diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18945-8.txt | 11410 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18945-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 214026 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18945-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 255781 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18945-h/18945-h.htm | 11581 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18945-h/images/fa_stokes.png | bin | 0 -> 29284 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18945.txt | 11410 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18945.zip | bin | 0 -> 213976 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
10 files changed, 34417 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18945-8.txt b/18945-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65d7eb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/18945-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11410 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robin, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +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: Robin + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: July 30, 2006 [EBook #18945] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBIN *** + + + + +Produced by Hilary Caws-Elwitt and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + ROBIN + + BY + FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT + + AUTHOR OF + "THE SHUTTLE" + "THE SECRET GARDEN" + "THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE OF COOMBE" + ETC. + + + NEW YORK + FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY + FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT + + COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY + THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +THE YEARS BEFORE + +Outline Arranged by Hamilton Williamson + +from + +_THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE OF COOMBE_ + + +In the years when Victorian standards and ideals began to dance an +increasingly rapid jig before amazed lookers-on, who presently found +themselves dancing as madly as the rest--in these years, there lived in +Mayfair, in a slice of a house, Robert Gareth-Lawless and his lovely +young wife. So light and airy was she to earthly vision and so +diaphanous the texture of her mentality that she was known as "Feather." + +The slice of a house between two comparatively stately mansions in the +"right street" was a rash venture of the honeymoon. + +Robert--well born, irresponsible, without resources--evolved a carefully +detailed method of living upon nothing whatever, of keeping out of the +way of duns, and telling lies with aptness and outward gaiety. But a +year of giving smart little dinners and going to smart big dinners ended +in a condition somewhat akin to the feat of balancing oneself on the +edge of a sword. + +Then Robin was born. She was an intruder and a calamity, of course. That +a Feather should become a parent gave rise to much wit of light weight +when Robin was exhibited in the form of a bundle of lace. + +It was the Head of the House of Coombe who asked: + +"What will you do with her?" + +"Do?" Feather repeated. "What is it people 'do' with babies? I don't +know. I wouldn't touch her for the world. She frightens me." + +Coombe said: + +"She is staring at me. There is antipathy in her gaze." He stared back +unwaveringly also, but with a sort of cold interest. + +"The Head of the House of Coombe" was not a title to be found in Burke +or Debrett. It was a fine irony of the Head's own. The peerage recorded +him as a marquis and added several lesser attendant titles. + +To be born the Head of the House is a weighty and awe-inspiring +thing--one is called upon to be an example. + +"I am not sure what I am an example of--or to," he said, on one +occasion, in his light, rather cold and detached way, "which is why I at +times regard myself in that capacity with a slightly ribald lightness." + +A reckless young woman once asked him: + +"Are you as wicked as people say you are?" + +"I really don't know. It is so difficult to decide," he answered. +"Perhaps I am as wicked as I know how to be. And I may have painful +limitations or I may not." + +He had reached the age when it was safe to apply to him that vague term +"elderly," and marriage might have been regarded as imperative. But he +had remained unmarried and seemed to consider his abstinence entirely +his own affair. + +Courts and capitals knew him, and his opportunities were such as gave +him all ease as an onlooker. He saw closely those who sat with knit +brows and cautiously hovering hand at the great chess-board which is +formed by the map of Europe. + +As a statesman or a diplomat he would have gone far, but he had been too +much occupied with Life as an entertainment, too self-indulgent for work +of any order. Having, however, been born with a certain type of brain, +it observed and recorded in spite of him, thereby adding flavour and +interest to existence. But that was all. + +Texture and colour gave him almost abnormal pleasure. For this reason, +perhaps, he was the most perfectly dressed man in London. + +It was at a garden-party that he first saw Feather. When his eyes fell +upon her, he was talking to a group of people and he stopped speaking. +Some one standing quite near him said afterwards that he had, for a +second or so, became pale--almost as if he saw something which +frightened him. He was still rather pale when Feather lifted her eyes to +him. But he had not talked to her for fifteen minutes before he knew +that there was no real reason why he should ever again lose his colour +at the sight of her. He had thought, at first, there was. + +This was the beginning of an acquaintance which gave rise to much +argument over tea-cups regarding the degree of Coombe's interest in her. +Remained, however, the fact that he managed to see a great deal of her. +Feather was guilelessly doubtless concerning him. She was quite sure +that he was in love with her, and very practically aware that the more +men of the class of the Head of the House of Coombe who came in and out +of the slice of a house, the more likely the dwellers in it were to get +good invitations and continued credit. + +The realisation of these benefits was cut short. Robert, amazingly and +unnaturally, failed her by dying. He was sent away in a hearse and the +tiny house ceased to represent hilarious little parties. + +Bills were piled high everywhere. The rent was long overdue and must be +paid. She had no money to pay it, none to pay the servants' wages. + +"It's awful--it's awful--it's awful!" broke out between her sobs. + +From her bedroom window--at evening--she watched "Cook," the smart +footman, the nurse, the maids, climb into four-wheelers and be driven +away. + +"They're gone--all of them!" she gasped. "There's no one left in the +house. It's empty!" + +Then was Feather seized with a panic. She had something like hysterics, +falling face downward upon the carpet and clutching her hair until it +fell down. She was not a person to be judged--she was one of the +unexplained incidents of existence. + +The night drew in more closely. A prolonged wailing shriek tore through +the utter soundlessness of the house. It came from the night-nursery. It +was Robin who had wakened and was screaming. + +"I--I _won't_!" Feather protested, with chattering teeth. "I won't! I +_won't_!" + +She had never done anything for the child since its birth. To reach her +now, she would be obliged to go out into the dark--past Robert's +bedroom--_the_ room. + +"I--I couldn't--even if I wanted to!" she quaked. "I daren't! I +daren't! I wouldn't do it--for a _million pounds_!" + +The screams took on a more determined note. She flung herself on her +bed, burrowing her head under the coverings and pillows she dragged over +her ears to shut out the sounds. + + * * * * * + +Feather herself had not known, nor in fact had any other human being +known why Lord Coombe drifted into seeming rather to follow her about. +But there existed a reason, and this it was, and this alone, which +caused him to appear--the apotheosis of exquisite fitness in form--at +her door. + +He listened while she poured it all forth, sobbing. Her pretty hair +loosened itself and fell about her in wild but enchanting disorder. + +"I would do anything--_any one_ asked me, if they would take care of +me." + +A shuddering knowledge that it was quite true that she would do anything +for any man who would take care of her produced an effect on him nothing +else would have produced. + +"Do I understand," he said, "that you are willing that _I_ should +arrange this for you?" + +"Do you mean--really?" she faltered. "Will you--will you--?" + +Her uplifted eyes were like a young angel's brimming with crystal drops +which slipped--as a child's tears slip--down her cheeks. + + * * * * * + +The florist came and refilled the window-boxes of the slice of a house +with an admirable arrangement of fresh flowers. It became an +established fact that the household had not fallen to pieces, and its +frequenters gradually returned to it, wearing, indeed, the air of people +who had never really remained away from it. + +As a bird in captivity lives in its cage and, perhaps, believes it to be +the world, Robin lived in her nursery. She was put to bed and taken up, +she was fed and dressed in it, and once a day she was taken out of it +downstairs and into the street. That was all. + +It is a somewhat portentous thing to realise that a newborn human +creature can only know what it is taught. To Robin the Lady Downstairs +was merely a radiant and beautiful being of whom one might catch a +glimpse through a door, or if one pressed one's face against the window +pane at the right moment. On the very rare occasions when the Lady +appeared on the threshold of the day-nursery, Robin stood and stared +with immense startled eyes and answered in a whisper the banal little +questions put to her. + +So she remained unaware of mothers and unaware of affection. She never +played with other children. Andrews, her nurse--as behooved one employed +in a house about which there "was talk" bore herself with a lofty and +exclusive air. + +"My rule is to keep myself to myself," she said in the kitchen, "and to +look as if I was the one that would turn up noses, if noses was to be +turned up. There's those that would snatch away their children if I let +Robin begin to make up to them." + +But one morning, when Robin was watching some quarrelsome sparrows, an +old acquaintance surprised Andrews by appearing in the Gardens and +engaged her in a conversation so delightful that Robin was forgotten to +the extent of being allowed to follow her sparrows round a clump of +shrubbery out of sight. + +It was while she watched them that she heard footsteps that stopped near +her. She looked up. A big boy in Highland kilts and bonnet and sporan +was standing by her. He spread and curved his red mouth, then began to +run and prance round in a circle, capering like a Shetland pony to +exhibit at once his friendliness and his prowess. After a minute or two +he stopped, breathing fast and glowing. + +"My pony in Scotland does that. His name is Chieftain. I'm called Donal. +What are you called?" + +"Robin," she answered, her lips and voice trembling with joy. He was so +beautiful. + +They began to play together while Andrews' friend recounted intimate +details of a country house scandal. + +Donal picked leaves from a lilac bush. Robin learned that if you laid a +leaf flat on the seat of a bench you could prick beautiful patterns on +the leaf's greenness. Donal had--in his rolled down stocking--a little +dirk. He did the decoration with the point of this while Robin looked +on, enthralled. + +Through what means children so quickly convey to each other the entire +history of their lives is a sort of occult secret. Before Donal was +taken home, Robin knew that he lived in Scotland and had been brought to +London on a visit, that his other name was Muir, that the person he +called "mother" was a woman who took care of him. He spoke of her quite +often. + +"I will bring one of my picture-books to-morrow," he said grandly. "Can +you read at all?" + +"No," answered Robin, adoring him. "What are picture books?" + +"Haven't you any?" he blurted out. + +She lifted her eyes to the glowing blueness of his and said quite +simply, "I haven't anything." + +His old nurse's voice came from the corner where she sat. + +"I must go back to Nanny," he said, feeling, somehow, as if he had been +running fast. "I'll come to-morrow and bring _two_ picture books." + +He put his strong little eight-year-old arms round her and kissed her +full on the mouth. It was the first time, for Robin. Andrews did not +kiss. There was no one else. + +"Don't you like to be kissed?" said Donal, uncertain because she looked +so startled and had not kissed him back. + +"Kissed," she repeated, with a small caught breath. "Ye--es." She knew +now what it was. It was being kissed. She drew nearer at once and lifted +up her face as sweetly and gladly as a flower lifts itself to the sun. +"Kiss me again," she said, quite eagerly. And this time, she kissed too. +When he ran quickly away, she stood looking after him with smiling, +trembling lips, uplifted, joyful--wondering and amazed. + +The next morning Andrews had a cold and her younger sister Anne was +called in to perform her duties. The doctor pronounced the cold serious, +and Andrews was confined to her bed. Hours spent under the trees reading +were entirely satisfactory to Anne. And so, for two weeks, the +soot-sprinkled London square was as the Garden of Eden to Donal and +Robin. + +In her fine, aloof way, Helen Muir had learned much in her stays in +London and during her married life--in the exploring of foreign cities +with her husband. She was not proud of the fact that in the event of the +death of Lord Coombe's shattered and dissipated nephew her son would +become heir presumptive to Coombe Court. She had not asked questions +about Coombe. It had not been necessary. Once or twice she had seen +Feather by chance. She was to see her again--by Feather's intention. + +With Donal prancing at her side, Mrs. Muir went to the Gardens to meet +the child Nanny had described as "a bit of witch fire dancing--with her +colour and her big silk curls in a heap, and Donal staring at her like a +young man at a beauty." + +Robin was waiting behind the lilac bushes and her nurse was already deep +in the mystery of "Lady Audley." + +"There she is!" cried Donal, as he ran to her. "My mother has come with +me. This is Robin, mother! This is Robin." + +Her exquisiteness and physical brilliancy gave Mrs. Muir something not +unlike a slight shock. Oh! No wonder, since she was like that. She +stooped and kissed the round cheek delicately. She took the little hand +and they walked round the garden, then sat on a bench and watched the +children "make up" things to play. + +A victoria was driving past. Suddenly a sweetly hued figure spoke to the +coachman. "Stop here," she said. "I want to get out." + +Robin's eyes grew very round and large and filled with a worshipping +light. + +"It is," she gasped, "the Lady Downstairs!" + +Feather floated near to the seat and paused, smiling. "Where is your +nurse, Robin?" she asked. + +"She is only a few yards away," said Mrs. Muir. + +"So kind of you to let Robin play with your boy. Don't let her bore you. +I am Mrs. Gareth-Lawless." + +There was a little silence, a delicate little silence. + +"I recognized you as Mrs. Muir at once," added Feather, unperturbed and +smiling brilliantly. "I saw your portrait at the Grovenor." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Muir, gently. + +"I wanted very much to see your son; that was why I came." + +"Yes," still gently from Mrs. Muir. + +"Because of Coombe, you know. We are such old friends. How queer that +the two little things have made friends too. I didn't know." + +She bade them good-bye and strayed airily away. + +And that night Donal was awakened, was told that "something" had +happened, that they were to go back to Scotland. He was accustomed to do +as he was told. He got out of bed and began to dress, but he swallowed +very hard. + +"I shall not see Robin," he said in a queer voice. "She won't find me +when she goes behind the lilac bushes. She won't know why I don't come." +Then, in a way that was strangely grown up: "She has no one but me to +remember." + + * * * * * + +The next morning a small, rose-coloured figure stood still for so long +in the gardens that it began to look rigid and some one said, "I wonder +what that little girl is waiting for." + +A child has no words out of which to build hopes and fears. Robin could +only wait in the midst of a slow dark rising tide of something she had +no name for. Suddenly she knew. He was _gone_! She crept under the +shrubbery. She cried, she sobbed. If Andrews had seen her she would have +said she was "in a tantrum." But she was not. Her world had been torn +away. + + * * * * * + +Five weeks later Feather was giving a very little dinner in the slice of +a house. There was Harrowby, a good looking young man with dark eyes, +and the Starling who was "emancipated" and whose real name was Miss +March. The third diner was a young actor with a low, veiled +voice--Gerald Vesey--who adored and understood Feather's clothes. + +Over coffee in the drawing-room Coombe joined them just at the moment +that Feather was "going to tell them something to make them laugh." + +"Robin is in love!" she cried. "She is five years old and she has been +deserted and Andrews came to tell me she can neither eat nor sleep. The +doctor says she has had a shock." + +Coombe did not join in the ripple of laughter, but he looked interested. + +"Robin is a stimulating name," said Harrowby. "_Is_ it too late to let +us see her?" + +"They usually go to sleep at seven, I believe," remarked Coombe, "but of +course I am not an authority." + +Robin was not asleep, though she had long been in bed with her eyes +closed. She had heard Andrews say to her sister Anne: + +"Lord Coombe's the reason. She does not want her boy to see or speak to +him, so she whisked him back to Scotland." + +"Is Lord Coombe as bad as they say?" put in Anne, with bated breath. + +"As to his badness," Robin heard Andrews answer, "there's some that +can't say enough against him. It's what he is in this house that does +it. She won't have her boy playing with a child like Robin." + +Then--even as there flashed upon Robin the revelation of her own +unfitness--came a knock at the door. + +She was taken up, dressed in her prettiest frock and led down the narrow +stairway. She heard the Lady say: + +"Shake hands with Lord Coombe." + +Robin put her hand behind her back--she who had never disobeyed since +she was born! + +"Be pretty mannered, Miss Robin my dear," Andrews instructed, "and shake +hands with his Lordship." + +Each person in the little drawing-room saw the queer flame in the +child-face. She shrilled out her words: + +"Andrews will pinch me--Andrews will pinch me! But--No--No!" + +She kept her hands behind her back and hatred surged up in her soul. + +In spite of her tender years, the doctor held to the theory that Robin +had suffered a shock; she must be taken away to be helped by the bracing +air of the Norfolk coast. Before she went, workmen were to be seen +coming in and out of the house. When she returned to London, she was led +into rooms she had never been in before--light and airy rooms with +pretty walls and furniture. + +It was "a whim of Coombe's," as Feather put it, that she should no +longer occupy the little dog-kennels of nurseries, so these new +apartments had been added in the rear. A whim of his also that Andrews, +whose disciplinary methods included pinching, should be dismissed and +replaced by Dowson, a motherly creature with a great deal of common +sense. Robin's lonely little heart opened to her new nurse, who became +in time her "Dowie." + +It was Dowson who made it clear to Lord Coombe, at length, that Robin +had reached the age when she needed a governess, and it was he who said +to Feather a few days later: + +"A governess will come here to-morrow at eleven o'clock. She is a +Mademoiselle Vallé. She is accustomed to the education of young +children. She will present herself for your approval." + +"What on earth can it matter?" Feather cried. + +"It does not matter to you," he answered. "It chances for the time being +to matter to _me_." + +Mademoiselle Vallé was an intelligent, mature French woman, with a +peculiar power to grasp an intricate situation. She learned to love the +child she taught--a child so strangely alone. As time went on she came +to know that Robin was to receive every educational advantage, every +instruction. In his impersonal, aloof way Coombe was fixed in his +intention to provide her with life's defences. As she grew, graceful as +a willow wand, into a girlhood startlingly lovely, she learned modern +languages, learned to dance divinely. + +And all the while he was deeply conscious that her infant hatred had not +lessened--that he could show her no reason why it should. + +There were black hours when she was in deadly peril from a human beast, +mad with her beauty. Coombe had almost miraculously saved her, but her +detestation of him still held. + +Her one thought--her one hope--was to learn--learn, so that she might +make her own living. Mademoiselle Vallé supported her in this, and +Coombe understood. + + * * * * * + +In one of the older London squares there was a house upon the broad +doorsteps of which Lord Coombe stood oftener than upon any other. The +old Dowager Duchess of Darte, having surrounded herself with almost +royal dignity, occupied that house in an enforced seclusion. She was a +confirmed rheumatic invalid, but her soul was as strong as it was many +years before, when she had given its support to Coombe in his unbearable +hours. She had poured out her strength in silence, and in silence he had +received it. She saved him from slipping over the verge of madness. + +But there came a day when he spoke to her of this--of the one woman he +had loved, Princess Alixe of X----: + +"There was never a human thing so transparently pure, and she was the +possession of a brute incarnate. She shook with terror before him. He +killed her." + +"I believe he did," she said, unsteadily. "He was not received here at +Court afterward." + +"He killed her. But she would have died of horror if he had not struck +her a blow. I saw that. I was in attendance on him at Windsor." + +"When I first knew you," the Duchess said gravely. + +"There was a night--I was young--young--when I found myself face to face +with her in the stillness of the wood. I went quite mad for a time. I +threw myself face downward on the earth and sobbed. She knelt and prayed +for her own soul as well as mine. I kissed the hem of her dress and +left her standing--alone." + +After a silence he added: + +"It was the next night that I heard her shrieks. Then she died." + +The Duchess knew what else had died: the high adventure of youth and joy +of life in him. + +On a table beside her winged chair were photographs of two women, who, +while obviously belonging to periods of some twenty years apart, were in +face and form so singularly alike that they might have been the same +person. One was the Princess Alixe of X---- and the other--Feather. + +"The devil of chance," Coombe said, "sometimes chooses to play tricks. +Such a trick was played on me." + +It was the photograph of Feather he took up and set a strange +questioning gaze upon. + +"When I saw this," he said, "this--exquisitely smiling at me in a sunny +garden--the tomb opened under my feet and I stood on the brink of +it--twenty-five again." + +He made clear to her certain facts which most persons would have +ironically disbelieved. He ended with the story of Robin. + +"I am determined," he explained, "to stand between the child and what +would be inevitable. Her frenzy of desire to support herself arises from +her loathing of the position of accepting support from me. I sympathise +with her entirely." + +"Mademoiselle Vallé is an intelligent woman," the Duchess said. "Send +her to me; I shall talk to her. Then she can bring the child." + +And so it was arranged that Robin should be taken into the house in the +old fashioned square to do for the Duchess what a young relative might +have done. And, a competent person being needed to take charge of the +linen, "Dowie" would go to live under the same roof. + +Feather's final thrust in parting with her daughter was: + +"Donal Muir is a young man by this time. I wonder what his mother would +do now if he turned up at your mistress' house and began to make love to +you." She laughed outright. "You'll get into all sorts of messes but +that would be the nicest one!" + + * * * * * + +The Duchess came to understand that Robin held it deep in her mind that +she was a sort of young outcast. + +"If she consorted," she thought, "with other young things and shared +their pleasures she would forget it." + +She talked the matter over with her daughter, Lady Lothwell. + +"I am not launching a girl in society," she said, "I only want to help +her to know a few nice young people. I shall begin with your children. +They are mine if I am only a grandmother. A small dinner and a small +dance--and George and Kathryn may be the beginning of an interesting +experiment." + + * * * * * + +The Duchess was rarely mistaken. The experiment was interesting. For +George--Lord Halwyn--it held a certain element of disaster. It was he +who danced with Robin first. He had heard of the girl who was a sort of +sublimated companion to his grandmother. He had encountered companions +before. This one, as she flew like a blown leaf across the floor and +laughed up into his face with wide eyes produced a new effect and was a +new kind. + +He led her to the conservatory. He was extremely young and his fleeting +emotions had never known a tight rein. An intoxicating hot-house perfume +filled his nostrils. Suddenly he let himself go and was kissing the warm +velvet of her slim little neck. + +"You--you--you've spoiled everything in the world!" she cried. +"Now"--with a desolate, horrible little sob--"now I can only go +back--_back_." She spoke as if she were Cinderella and he had made the +clock strike twelve. Her voice had absolute grief in it. + +"I say,"--he was contrite--"don't speak like that. I beg pardon. I'll +grovel. Don't-- Oh, Kathryn! Come here!" + +This last because his sister had suddenly appeared. + +Kathryn bore Robin away. Boys like George didn't really matter, she +pointed out, though of course it was bad manners. She had been kissed +herself, it seemed. As they walked between banked flowers she added: + +"By the way, somebody important has been assassinated in one of the +Balkan countries. Lord Coombe has just come in and is talking it over +with grandmamma." + +As they neared the entrance to the ballroom she paused with a new kind +of impish smile. + +"The very best looking boy in all England," she said, "is dancing with +Sara Studleigh. He dropped in by chance to call and grandmamma made him +stay. His name is Donal Muir. He is Lord Coombe's heir. Here he comes. +Look!" + +He was now scarcely two yards away. Almost as if he had been called he +turned his eyes toward Robin and straight into hers they +laughed--straight into hers. + +The incident of their meeting was faultlessly correct; also, when Lady +Lothwell appeared, she presented him to Robin as if the brief ceremony +were one of the most ordinary in existence. + +They danced for a time without a word. She wondered if he could not feel +the beating of her heart. + +"That--is a beautiful waltz," he said at last, as if it were a sort of +emotional confidence. + +"Yes," she answered. Only, "Yes." + +Once round the great ballroom, twice, and he gave a little laugh and +spoke again. + +"I am going to ask you a question. May I?" + +"Yes." + +"Is your name Robin?" + +"Yes." She could scarcely breathe it. + +"I thought it was. I hoped it was--after I first began to suspect. I +_hoped_ it was." + +"It is--it is." + +"Did we once play together in a garden?" + +"Yes--yes." + +Back swept the years, and the wonderful happiness began again. + + * * * * * + +In the shining ballroom the music rose and fell and swelled again into +ecstasy as he held her white young lightness in his arm and they swayed +and darted and swooped like things of the air--while the old Duchess and +Lord Coombe looked on almost unseeing and talked in murmurs of +Sarajevo. + + + + +ROBIN + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was a soft starlit night mystically changing into dawn when Donal +Muir left the tall, grave house on Eaton Square after the strangely +enchanted dance given by the old Dowager Duchess of Darte. A certain +impellingness of mood suggested that exercise would be a good thing and +he decided to walk home. It was an impellingness of body as well as +mind. He had remained later than the relative who had by chance been +responsible for his being brought, an uninvited guest, to the party. The +Duchess had not known that he was in London. It may also be accepted as +a fact that to this festivity given for the pleasure of Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless' daughter, she might not have chosen to assume the +responsibility of extending him an invitation. She knew something of his +mother and had sometimes discussed her with her old friend, Lord Coombe. +She admired Helen Muir greatly and was also much touched by certain +aspects of her maternity. What Lord Coombe had told her of the meeting +of the two children in the Gardens, of their innocent child passion of +attraction for each other, and of the unchildlike tragedy their enforced +parting had obviously been to both had at once deeply interested and +moved her. Coombe had only been able to relate certain surface incidents +connected with the matter, but they had been incidents not easy to +forget and from which unusual things might be deduced. No! She would +not have felt prepared to be the first to deliberately throw these two +young people across each other's paths at this glowing moment of their +early blooming--knowing as she did Helen Muir's strongly anxious desire +to keep them apart. + +She had seen Donal Muir several times as the years had passed and had +not been blind to the physical beauty and allure of charm the rest of +the world saw and proclaimed with suitable adjectives. When the intimate +friend who was his relative appeared with him in her drawing-room and +she found standing before her, respectfully appealing for welcome with a +delightful smile, this quite incomparably good-looking young man, she +was conscious of a secret momentary disturbance and a recognition of the +fact that something a shade startling had happened. + +"When a thing of the sort occurs entirely without one's aid and rather +against one's will--one may as well submit," she said later to Lord +Coombe. "Endeavouring to readjust matters is merely meddling with Fate +and always ends in disaster. As an incident, I felt there was a hint in +it that it would be the part of wisdom to leave things alone." + +She had watched the two dancing with a kind of absorption in her gaze. +She had seen them go out of the room into the conservatory. She had +known exactly when they had returned and, seeing the look on their young +faces, had understood why the eyes of the beholders followed them. + +When Lord Coombe came in with the ominous story of the assassination at +Sarajevo, all else had been swept from her mind. There had been place in +her being for nothing but the shock of a monstrous recognition. She had +been a gravely conscious looker-on at the slow but never ceasing growth +of a world peril for too many years not to be widely awake to each sign +of its development. + +"Servia, Russia, Austria, Germany. It will form a pretext and a clear +road to France and England," Lord Coombe had said. + +"A broad, clear road," the Duchess had agreed breathlessly--and, while +she gazed before her, ceased to see the whirl of floating and fluttering +butterfly-wings of gauze or to hear the music to whose measure they +fluttered and floated. + +But no sense of any connection with Sarajevo disturbed the swing of the +fox trot or the measure of the tango, and when Donal Muir walked out +into the summer air of the starlit street and lifted his face, because +already a faint touch of primrose dawn was showing itself on the eastern +sky, in his young world there was only recognition of a vague tumult of +heart and brain and blood. + +"What's the matter?" he was thinking. "What have I been doing-- What +have I been saying? I've been like a chap in a dream. I'm not awake +yet." + +All that he had said to the girl was a simple fact. He had exaggerated +nothing. If, in what now seemed that long-ago past, he had not been a +sturdy, normal little lad surrounded by love and friendliness, with his +days full of healthy play and pleasure, the child tragedy of their being +torn apart might have left ugly marks upon his mind, and lurked there, a +morbid memory. And though, in time, rebellion and suffering had died +away, he had never really forgotten. Even to the cricket-playing, +larking boy at Eton there had now and then returned, with queer +suddenness, recollections which gave him odd moments of resurrected +misery. They passed away, but at long intervals they came back and +always with absolute reality. At Oxford the intervals had been longer +but a certain picture was one whose haunting never lost its clearness. +It was a vision of a colour-warm child kneeling on the grass, her eyes +uplifted, expressing only a lonely patience, and he could actually hear +her humble little voice as she said: + +"I--I haven't anything." And it always roused him to rage. + +Then there was the piteous break in her voice when she hid her eyes with +her arm and said of her beast of a mother: + +"She--doesn't _like_ me!" + +"Damn! Damn!" he used to say every time the thing came back. "Oh! +damn!--damn!" And the expletive never varied in its spontaneity. + + * * * * * + +As he walked under the primrose sky and breathed in the faint fragrant +stir of the freshening morning air, he who had always felt joyously the +sense of life knew more than ever before the keen rapture of living. The +springing lightness of his own step as it rang on the pavement was part +of it. It was as though he were still dancing and he almost felt +something warm and light in his arm and saw a little head of dark silk +near his breast. + +Throughout his life he had taken all his joys to his closest companion +and nearest intimate--his mother. Theirs had not been a common life +together. He had not even tried to explain to himself the harmony and +gaiety of their nearness in which there seemed no separation of years. +She had drawn and held him to the wonder of her charm and had been the +fine flavour of his existence. It was actually true that he had so far +had no boyish love affairs because he had all unconsciously been in love +with the beautiful completeness of her. + +Always when he returned home after festivities, he paused for a moment +outside her bedroom door because he so often found her awake and waiting +to talk to him if he were inclined to talk--to listen--to laugh +softly--or perhaps only to say good-night in her marvel of a voice--a +marvel because its mellow note held such love. + +This time when, after entering the house and mounting the stairs he +reached her door, he found it partly open. + +"Come in," he heard her say. "I went to sleep very early and awakened +half an hour ago. It is really morning." + +She was sitting up in a deep chair by the window. + +"Let me look at you," she said with a little laugh. "And then kiss me +and go to bed." + +But even the lovely, faint early light revealed something to her. + +"You walk like a young stag on the hillside," she said. "You don't want +to go to sleep at all. What is it?" + +He sat on a low ottoman near her and laughed a little also. + +"I don't know," he answered, "but I'm wide awake." + +The English summer dawn is of a magical clear light and she could see +him well. She had a thrilled feeling that she had never quite known +before what a beautiful thing he was--how perfect and shining fair in +his boy manhood. + +"Mother," he said, "you won't remember perhaps--it's a queer thing that +I should myself--but I have never really forgotten. There was a child I +played with in some garden when I was a little chap. She was a beautiful +little thing who seemed to belong to nobody--" + +"She belonged to a Mrs. Gareth-Lawless," Helen interpolated. + +"Then you do remember?" + +"Yes, dear. You asked me to go to the Gardens with you to see her. And +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless came in by chance and spoke to me." + +"And then we had suddenly to go back to Scotland. I remember you wakened +me quite early in the morning--I thought it was the middle of the +night." He began to speak rather slowly as if he were thinking it over. +"You didn't know that, when you took me away, it was a tragedy. I had +promised to play with her again and I felt as if I had deserted her +hideously. It was not the kind of a thing a little chap usually +feels--it was something different--something more. And to-night it +actually all came back. I saw her again, mother." + +He was so absorbed that he did not take in her involuntary movement. + +"You saw her again! Where?" + +"The old Duchess of Darte was giving a small dance for her. Hallowe took +me--" + +"Does the Duchess know Mrs. Gareth-Lawless?" Helen had a sense of +breathlessness. + +"I don't quite understand the situation. It seems the little thing +insists on earning her own living and she is a sort of companion and +secretary to the Duchess. Mother, she is just the same!" + +The last words were a sort of exclamation. As he uttered them, there +came back to her the day when--a little boy--he had seemed as though he +were speaking as a young man might have spoken. Now he was a young man, +speaking almost as if he were a little boy--involuntarily revealing his +exaltation. + +As she had felt half frightened years before, so she felt wholly +frightened now. He was not a little boy any longer. She could not sweep +him away in her arms to save him from danger. Also she knew more of the +easy, fashionably accepted views of the morals of pretty Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless, still lightly known with some cynicism as "Feather." She +knew what Donal did not. His relationship to the Head of the House of +Coombe made it unlikely that gossip should choose him as the exact young +man to whom could be related stories of his distinguished relative, Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless and her girl. But through the years Helen Muir had +unavoidably heard things she thought particularly hideous. And here the +child was again "just the same." + +"She has only grown up." His laugh was like a lightly indrawn breath. +"Her cheek is just as much like a rose petal. And that wonderful little +look! And her eyelashes. Just the same! Do girls usually grow up like +that? It was the look most. It's a sort of asking and giving--both at +once." + +There it was! And she had nothing to say. She could only sit and look at +him--at his beautiful youth all alight with the sudden flame of that +which can set a young world on fire and sweep on its way either carrying +devastation or clearing a path to Paradise. + +His own natural light unconsciousness was amazing. He only knew that he +was in delightful high spirits. The dancing, the music, the early +morning were, he thought, accountable for it. + +She bent forward to kiss his cheek and she patted his hand. + +"My dear! My dear!" she said. "How you have enjoyed your evening!" + +"There never was anything more perfect," with the light laugh again. +"Everything was delightful--the rooms, the music, the girls in their +pretty frocks like a lot of flowers tossed about. She danced like a bit +of thistledown. I didn't know a girl could be so light. The back of her +slim little neck looks as fine and white and soft as a baby's. I am so +glad you were awake. Are you sure you don't want to go to sleep again?" +suddenly. + +"Not in the least. Look at the sun beginning to touch the tips of the +little white clouds with rose. That stir among the leaves of the plane +trees is the first delicious breath of the morning. Go on and tell me +all about the party." + +"It's a perfect time to talk," he laughed. + +And there he sat and made gay pictures for her of what he had seen and +done. He thought he was giving her mere detail of the old Duchess' +dance. He did not know that when he spoke of new tangos, of flowers, of +music and young nymphs like tossed blossoms, he never allowed her for a +moment to lose sight of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless' girl. She was the light +floating over his vision of the happy youth of the assembly--she was the +centre--the beginning and the ending of it all. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +If some uncomplex minded and even moderately articulate man or woman, +living in some small, ordinary respectable London house and going about +his or her work in the customary way, had been prompted by chance upon +June 29th, 1914, to begin to keep on that date a day-by-day diary of his +or her ordinary life, the effects of huge historic events, as revealed +by the every-day incidents to be noted in the streets, to be heard in +his neighbours' houses as well as among his fellow workers, to be read +in the penny or half-penny newspapers, would have resulted--if the +record had been kept faithfully and without any self-conscious sense of +audience--between 1914 and 1918 in the gradual compiling of a human +document of immense historical value. Compared with it, the diaries of +Defoe and Pepys would pale and be flavourless. But it must have been +begun in June, 1914, and have been written with the casualness of that +commonplace realism which is the most convincing realism of all. It is +true that the expression of the uncomplex mind is infrequently +articulate, but the record which would bring home the clearest truth +would be the one unpremeditatedly depicting the effect produced upon the +wholly unprepared and undramatic personality by the monstrous drama, as +the Second Deluge rose for its apparent overwhelming, carrying upon its +flood old civilisations broken from anchor and half submerged as they +tossed on the rising and raging waves. Such a priceless treasure as +this might have been the quite unliterary and unromantic diary of +any--say, Mr. James Simpson of any house number in any respectable side +street in Regents Park, or St. Johns Wood or Hampstead. One can easily +imagine him, sitting in his small, comfortable parlour and bending over +his blotting-pad in unilluminated cheerful absorption after his day's +work. It can also without any special intellectual effort be imagined +that the record might have begun with some such seemingly unprophetic +entry as follows:-- + +"June 29th, 1914. I made up my mind when I was at the office to-day that +I would begin to keep a diary. I have thought several times that I +would, and Harriet thinks it would be a good thing because we should +have it to refer to when there was any little dispute about dates and +things that have happened. To-night seemed a good time because there is +something to begin the first entry with. Harriet and I spent part of the +evening in reading the newspaper accounts of the assassination of the +Austrian Archduke and his wife. There seems to be a good deal of +excitement about it because he was the next heir to the Austrian throne. +The assassination occurred in Bosnia at a place called Sarajevo. +Crawshaw, whose desk is next to mine in the office, believes it will +make a nice mess for the Bosnians and Servians because they have been +rather troublesome about wanting to be united into one country instead +of two, and called Greater Serbia. That seems a silly sort of reason for +throwing bombs and killing people. But foreigners have a way of thinking +bombs settle everything. Harriet brought out her old school geography +and we looked up Sarajevo on the map of Austria-Hungary. It was hard to +find because the print was small and it was spelt Saraievo--without any +j in it. It was just on the line between Bosnia and Servia and the +geography said it was the chief city in Bosnia. Harriet said it was a +queer thing how these places on maps never seemed like real places when +you looked them up and just read their names and yet probably the people +in them were as real to themselves as we were, and there were streets in +them as real as Lupton Street where we were sitting, finding them on the +map on the sitting-room table. I said that bombs were pretty real things +and the sound of this one when it exploded seemed to have reached a long +way to judge from the newspapers and the talk in London. Harriet said my +putting it like that gave her a queer feeling--almost as if she had +heard it and it had made her jump. Somehow it seemed something like it +to me. At any rate we sat still a minute or two, thinking it over. Then +Harriet got up and went into the kitchen and made some nice toasted +cheese for our supper before we went to bed." + +Men of the James Simpson type were among the many who daily passed +Coombe House on their way to and from their office work. Some of them no +doubt caught sight of Lord Coombe himself as he walked or drove through +the entrance gates. Their knowledge of him was founded upon rumoured +stories, repeated rather privately among themselves. He was a great +swell and there weren't many shady things he hadn't done and didn't know +the ins and outs of, but his remoteness from their own lives rendered +these accepted legends scarcely prejudicial. The perfection of his +clothes, and his unusual preservation of physical condition and good +looks, also his habit of the so-called "week-end" continental journeys, +were the points chiefly recalled by the incidental mention of his name. + +If James Simpson, on his way home to Lupton Street with his friend +Crawshaw, chanced to see his lordship's car standing before his door a +few days after the bomb throwing in Sarajevo, he might incidentally have +referred to him somewhat in this wise:-- + +"As we passed by Coombe House the Marquis of Coombe came out and got +into his car. There were smart leather valises and travelling things in +it and a rug or so, as if he was going on some journey. He is a fine +looking man for one that's lived the life he has and reached his age. I +don't see how he's done it, myself. When I said to Crawshaw that it +looked as if he was going away for the week end, Crawshaw said that +perhaps he was taking Saturday to Monday off to run over to talk to the +Kaiser and old Franz Josef about the Sarajevo business, and he might +telephone to the Czar about it because he's intimate with them all, and +the whole lot seem to be getting mixed up in the thing and writing +letters and sending secret telegrams. It seems to be turning out, as +Crawshaw said it would, into a nice mess for Servia. Austria is making +it out that the assassination really was committed to stir up trouble, +and says it wasn't done just by a crazy anarchist, but by a secret +society working for its own ends. Crawshaw came in to supper and we +talked it all over. Harriet gave us cold beef and pickled onions and +beer, and we looked at the maps in the old geography again. We got quite +interested in finding places. Bosnia and Servia (it's often spelled +Serbia) are close up against Austria-Hungary, and Germany and Russia are +close against the other side. They can get into each other's countries +without much travelling. I heard to-day that Russia will have to help +Servia if she has a row with Austria. Crawshaw says that will give +Germany the chance she's been waiting for and that she will try to get +through Belgium to England. He says she hates England. Harriet began to +look pale as she studied the map and saw how little Belgium was and that +the Channel was so narrow. She said she felt as if England had been +silly to let herself get so slack and she almost wished she hadn't +looked at the geography. She said she couldn't help thinking how awful +it would be to see the German army marching up Regent Street and camping +in Hyde Park, and who in goodness' name knew what they might do to +people if they hated England so? She actually looked as if she would +have cried if Crawshaw and I hadn't chaffed her and made her laugh by +telling her we would join the army; and Crawshaw began to shoulder arms +with the poker and I got my new umbrella." + +In this domesticated and almost comfortable fashion did the greatest +tragedy the human race has known since the beginning of the world +gradually prepare its first scenes and reveal glimpses of itself, as the +curtain of Time was, during that June, slowly raised by the hand of +Fate. + +This is not what is known as a "war story." It is not even a story of +the War, but a relation of incidents occurring amidst and resulting from +the strenuousness of a period to which "the War" was a background so +colossal that it dwarfed all events, except in the minds of those for +whom such events personally shook and darkened or brightened the world. +Nothing can dwarf personal anguish at its moment of highest power; to +the last agony and despairing terror of the heart-wrung the cataclysm +of earthquake, tornado, shipwreck is but the awesome back drop of the +scene. + +Also--incidentally--the story is one of the transitions in, and +convulsive changes of, points of view produced by the convulsion itself +which flung into new perspective the whole surface of the earth and the +races existing upon it. + +The Head of the House of Coombe had, as he said, been born at once too +early and too late to admit of any fixed establishment of tastes and +ideals. His existence had been passed in the transition from one era to +another--the Early Victorian, under whose disappearing influences he had +spent his youth; the Late Victorian and Edwardian, in whose more rapidly +changing atmosphere he had ripened to maturity. He had, during this +transition, seen from afar the slow rising of the tidal wave of the +Second Deluge; and in the summer days of 1914 he heard the first low +roaring of its torrential swell, and visualised all that the +overwhelming power of its bursting flood might sweep before it and bury +forever beneath its weight. + +He made seemingly casual crossings of the Channel and journeys which +were made up of the surmounting of obstacles, and when he returned, +brought with him a knowledge of things which it would have been unwise +to reveal carelessly to the general public. The mind of the general +public had its parallel, at the moment, in the temperature of a patient +in the early stages of, as yet, undiagnosed typhoid or any other fever. +Restless excitement and spasmodic heats and discomforts prompted and +ruled it. Its tendency was to nervous discontent and suspicious +fearfulness of approaching, vaguely formulated, evils. These risings of +temperature were to be seen in the very streets and shops. People were +talking--talking--talking. Ordinary people, common people, all kinds of +classes. The majority of them did not know what they were talking +about; most of them talked either uneducated, frightened or blustering +nonsense, but everybody talked more or less. Enormous numbers of +newspapers were bought and flourished about, or pored over anxiously. +Numbers of young Germans were silently disappearing from their places in +shops, factories and warehouses. That was how Germany showed her +readiness for any military happening. Her army was already trained and +could be called from any country and walk in life. A mysterious unheard +command called it and it was obliged to obey. The entire male population +of England had not been trained from birth to regard itself as an +immense military machine, ready at any moment for action. The James +Simpson type of Englishman indulged in much discussion of the pros and +cons of enforced military training of youth. Germany's well known +contempt of the size and power of the British Army took on an aspect +which filled the James Simpsons with rage. They had not previously +thought of themselves as martial, because middle-class England was +satisfied with her belief in her strength and entire safety. Of course +she was safe. She always had been. Britannia Rules the Waves and the +James Simpsons were sure that incidentally she ruled everything else. +But as there stole up behind the mature Simpsons the haunting +realization that, if England was "drawn in" to a war, it would be the +young Simpsons who must gird their loins and go forth to meet Goliath in +his armour, with only the sling and stone of untrained youth and valour +as their weapon, there were many who began to feel that even +inconvenient drilling and discipline might have been good things. + +"There is something quite thrilling in going about now," said Feather to +Coombe, after coming in from a shopping round, made in her new electric +brougham. "One doesn't know what it is, but it's in the air. You see it +in people's faces. Actually shop girls give one the impression of just +having stopped whispering together when you go into a place and ask for +something. A girl who was trying on some gloves for me--she was a thin +girl with prominent watery eyes--had such a frightened look, that I said +to her, just to see what she would say--'I wonder what would happen to +the shops if England got into war?' She turned quite white and answered, +'Oh, Madam, I can't bear to think of it. My favourite brother's a +soldier. He's such a nice big fellow and we're so fond of him. And he's +always talking about it. He says Germany's not going to let England keep +out. We're so frightened--mother and me.' She almost dropped a big tear +on my glove. It _would_ be quite exciting if England did go in." + +"It would," Coombe answered. + +"London would be crowded with officers. All sorts of things would have +to be given for them--balls and things." + +"Cannon balls among other things," said Coombe. + +"But we should have nothing to do with the cannon balls, thank +goodness," exhilaration sweeping her past unpleasant aspects. "One would +be sorry for the Tommies, of course, if the worst came to the worst. But +I must say army and navy men are more interesting than most civilians. +It's the constant change in their lives, and their having to meet so +many kinds of people." + +"In actual war, men who are not merely 'Tommies' actually take part," +Coombe suggested. "I was looking at a ball-room full of them the night +after the news came from Sarajevo. Fine, well-set-up youngsters dancing +with pretty girls. I could not help asking myself what would have +happened to them before the German army crossed the Channel--if they +were not able to prevent the crossing. And what would happen to the +girls after its crossing, when it poured over London and the rest of +England in the unbridled rage of drunken victory." + +He so spoke because beneath his outward coldness he himself felt a +secret rage against this lightness which, as he saw things, had its +parallel in another order of trivial unawareness in more important +places and larger brains. Feather started and drew somewhat nearer to +him. + +"How hideous! What do you mean! Where was the party?" she asked. + +"It was a small dance given by the Duchess, very kindly, for Robin," he +answered. + +"For Robin!" with open eyes whose incredulity held irritation. "The old +Duchess giving parties to her 'useful companion' girl! What nonsense! +Who was there?" sharply. + +"The young fellows who would be first called on if there was war. And +the girls who are their relatives. Halwyn was there--and young Dormer +and Layton--they are all in the army. The cannon balls would be for them +as well as for the Tommies of their regiments. They are spirited lads +who wouldn't slink behind. They'd face things." + +Feather had already forgotten her moment's shock in another thought. + +"And they were invited to meet Robin! Did they dance with her? Did she +dance much? Or did she sit and stare and say nothing? What did she +wear?" + +"She looked like a very young white rose. She danced continually. There +was always a little mob about her when the music stopped. I do not think +she sat at all, and it was the young men who stared. The only dance she +missed--Kathryn told her grandmother--was the one she sat out in the +conservatory with Donal Muir." + +At this Feather's high, thin little laugh broke forth. + +"He turned up there? Donal Muir!" She struck her hands lightly together. +"It's too good to be true!" + +"Why is it too good to be true?" he inquired without enthusiasm. + +"Oh, don't you see? After all his mother's airs and graces and running +away with him when they were a pair of babies--as if Robin had the +plague. I was the plague--and so were you. And here the old Duchess +throws them headlong at each other--in all their full bloom--into each +other's arms. I did not do it. You didn't. It was the stuffiest old +female grandee in London, who wouldn't let _me_ sweep her front +door-steps for her--because I'm an impropriety." + +She asked a dozen questions, was quite humorous over the picture she +drew of Mrs. Muir's consternation at the peril her one ewe lamb had been +led into by her highly revered friend. + +"A frightfully good-looking, spoiled boy like that always plunges +headlong into any adventure that attracts him. Women have always made +love to him and Robin will make great eyes, and blush and look at him +from under her lashes as if she were going to cry with joy--like Alice +in the Ben Bolt song. She'll 'weep with delight when he gives her a +smile and tremble with fear at his frown.' His mother can't stop it, +however furious she may be. Nothing can stop that sort of thing when it +once begins." + +"If England declares war Donal Muir will have more serious things to do +than pursue adventures," was Coombe's comment. He looked serious himself +as he said the words, because they brought before him the bodily +strength and beauty of the lad. He seemed suddenly to see him again as +he had looked when he was dancing. And almost at the same moment he saw +other scenes than ball-rooms and heard sounds other than those drawn +forth by musicians screened with palms. He liked the boy. He was not his +son, but he liked him. If he had been his son, he thought--! He had been +through the monster munition works at Essen several times and he had +heard technical talks of inventions, the sole reason for whose presence +in the world was that they had the power to blow human beings into +unrecognisable, ensanguined shreds and to tear off limbs and catapult +them into the air. He had heard these powers talked of with a sense of +natural pride in achievement, in fact with honest and cheerful self +gratulation. + +He had known Count Zeppelin well and heard his interesting explanation +of what would happen to a thickly populated city on to which bombs were +dropped. + +But Feather's view was lighter and included only such things as she +found entertaining. + +"If there's a war the heirs of great families won't be snatched at +first," she quite rattled on. "There'll be a sort of economising in that +sort of thing. Besides he's very young and he isn't in the Army. He'd +have to go through some sort of training. Oh, he'll have time! And +there'll be so much emotion and excitement and talk about parting +forever and 'This may be the last time we ever meet' sort of thing that +every boy will have adventure--and not only boys. When I warned Robin, +the night before she went away, I did not count on war or I could have +said more--" + +"What did you warn her of?" + +"Of making mistakes about the men who would make love to her. I warned +her against imagining she was as safe as she would be if she were a +daughter of the house she lived in. I knew what I was talking about." + +"Did she?" was Coombe's concise question. + +"Of course she did--though of course she pretended not to. Girls always +pretend. But I did my duty as a parent. And I told her that if she got +herself into any mess she mustn't come to me." + +Lord Coombe regarded her in silence for a moment or so. It was one of +the looks which always made her furious in her small way. + +"Good morning," he said and turned his back and walked out of the room. +Almost immediately after he had descended the stairs she heard the front +door close after him. + +It was the kind of thing which made her feel her utter helplessness +against him and which enraged all the little cat in her being. She +actually ground her small teeth. + +"I was quite right," she said. "It's her affair to take care of herself. +Would he want her to come to _him_ in any silly fix? I should like to +see her try it." + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Robin sat at the desk in her private room and looked at a key she held +in her hand. She had just come upon it among some papers. She had put it +into a narrow lacquered box when she arranged her belongings, after she +left the house in which her mother continued to live. It was the key +which gave entrance to the Gardens. Each householder possessed one. She +alone knew why she rather timidly asked her mother's permission to keep +this one. + +"One of the first things I seem to remember is watching the gardeners +planting flowers," Robin had said. "They had rows of tiny pots with +geraniums and lobelia in them. I have been happy there. I should like to +be able to go in sometimes and sit under the trees. If you do not +mind--" + +Feather did not mind. She herself was not in the least likely to be +seized with a desire to sit under trees in an atmosphere heavy with +nursemaids and children. + +So Robin had been allowed to keep the key and until to-day she had not +opened the lacquer box. Was it quite by accident that she had found it? +She was not quite sure it was and she was asking herself questions, as +she sat looking at it as it lay in her palm. + +The face of the whole world had changed since the night when she had sat +among banked flowers and palms and ferns, and heard the splashing of the +fountain and the sound of the music and dancing, and Donal Muir's voice, +all at the same time. That which had happened had made everybody and +everything different; and, because she lived in this particular house +and saw much of special people, she realised that the growing shudder +in the life about her was only the first convulsive tremor of an +earthquake. The Duchess began to have much more for her to do. She +called on her to read special articles in the papers, and to make notes +and find references. Many visitors came to the house to discuss, to +plan, to prepare for work. A number of good-looking, dancing boys had +begun to come in and out in uniform, and with eager faces and a +businesslike military air which oddly transformed them. The recalcitrant +George was more transformed than any of the rest. His eyes looked almost +fierce in their anxious intensity, his voice had taken on a somewhat +hard defiant ring. It could not be possible that he had ever done that +silly thing by the fountain and that she had splashed him from head to +foot. It was plain that there were young soldiers who were straining at +leashes, who were restless at being held back by the bindings of red +tape, and who every hour were hearing things--true or untrue--which +filled them with blind fury. As days passed Robin heard some of these +things--stories from Belgium--which caused her to stare straight before +her, blanched with horror. It was not only the slaughter and +helplessness which pictured itself before her--it was stories half +hinted at about girls like herself--girls who were trapped and +overpowered--carried into lonely or dark places where no one could hear +them. Sometimes George and the Duchess forgot her because she was so +quiet--people often forgot everything but their excitement and +wrath--and every one who came in to talk, because the house had become a +centre of activities, was full of new panics or defiances or rumours of +happenings or possibilities. + +The maelstrom had caught Robin herself in its whirling. She realised +that she had changed with the rest. She was no longer only a girl who +was looked at as she passed along the street and who was beginning to be +happy because she could earn her living. What was every girl in these +days? How did any girl know what lay before her and those who protected +the land she lived in? What could a girl do but try in some way to +help--in any way to help the fight and the fighters. She used to lie +awake and think of the Duchess' plans and concentrate her thought on the +mastering of details. There was no hour too early or too late to find +her ready to spring to attention. The Duchess had set her preparations +for future possibilities in train before other women had quite begun to +believe in their existence. Lady Lothwell had at first laughed quite +gaily at certain long lists she found her mother occupied with--though +this, it is true, was in early days. + +But Robin, even while whirled by the maelstrom, could not cease thinking +certain vague remote thoughts. The splashing of fountains among flowers, +and the sound of music and dancing were far away--but there was an echo +to which she listened unconsciously as Donal Muir did. Something she +gave no name to. But as the, as yet unheard, guns sent forth vibrations +which reached far, there rose before her pictures of columns of marching +men--hundreds, thousands, young, erect, steady and with clear +eyes--marching on and on--to what--to what? Would _every_ man go? Would +there not be some who, for reasons, might not be obliged--or able--or +ready--until perhaps the, as yet hoped for, sudden end of the awful +thing had come? Surely there would be many who would be too young--or +whose youth could not be spared because it stood for some power the +nation needed in its future. + +She had taken out and opened the lacquered box while thinking these +things. She was thinking them as she looked at the key in her hand. + +"It is not quiet anywhere now," she said to herself. "But there will be +some corner under a tree in the Gardens where it will _seem_ quiet if +one sits quite still there. I will go and try." + +There were very few nursemaids with their charges in the place when she +reached it about an hour later. + +The military element filling the streets engendered a spirit of caution +with regard to nursemaids in the minds of their employers. Even those +who were not young and good-looking were somewhat shepherded. The two or +three quite elderly ones in the Gardens cast serious glances at the girl +who walked past them to a curve in the path where large lilac bushes and +rhododendrons made a sort of nook for a seat under a tree. + +They could not see her when she sat down and laid her book beside her on +the bench. She did not even open it, but sat and looked at the greenery +of the shrubs before her. She was very still, and she looked as if she +saw more than mere leaves and branches. + +After a few minutes she got up slowly and went to a tall bush of lilac. +She plucked several leaves and carried them back to her bench, somewhat +as if she were a girl moving in a dream. Then, with a tiny shadow of a +smile, she took a long pin from under the lapel of her coat and, leaning +forward, began to prick out a pattern on the leaf she had laid on the +wooden seat. She was in the midst of doing it--had indeed decorated two +or three--when she found herself turning her head to listen to +something. It was a quick, buoyant marching step--not a nursemaid's, not +a gardener's, and it was coming towards her corner as if with +intention--and she suddenly knew that she was listening as if the +intention concerned herself. This was only because there are +psychological moments, moods, conditions at once physical and mental +when every incident in life assumes the significance of +intention--because unconsciously or consciously one is _waiting_. + +Here was a crisp tread somehow conveying a suggestion of familiar happy +eagerness. The tall young soldier who appeared from behind the clump of +shrubs and stood before her with a laughing salute had evidently come +hurriedly. And the hurry and laughter extraordinarily brought back the +Donal who had sprung upon her years ago from dramatic ambush. It was +Donal Muir who had come. + +"I saw you from a friend's house across the street," he said. "I +followed you." + +He made no apology and it did not even cross her mind that apology was +conventionally necessary. He sat down beside her and his effect--though +it did not express itself physically--was that of one who was breathing +quickly. The clear blueness of his gaze seemed to enfold and cover her. +The wonderfulness of him was the surrounding atmosphere she had felt as +a little child. + +"The whole world is rocking to and fro," he said. "It has gone mad. We +are all mad. There is no time to wait for anything." + +"I know! I know!" she whispered, because her pretty breast was rising +and falling, and she had scarcely breath left to speak with. + +Even as he looked down at her, and she up at him, the colour and +laughter died out of him. Some suddenly returning memory brought a black +cloud into his eyes and made him pale. He caught hold of both her hands +and pressed them quite hard against his bowed face. He did not kiss them +but held them against his cheek. + +"It is terrible," he said. + +Without being told she knew what he meant. + +"You have been hearing new horrible things?" she said. What she guessed +was that they were the kind of things she had shuddered at, feeling her +blood at once hot and cold. He lifted his face but did not release her +hands. + +"At my friend's house. A man had just come over from Holland," he shook +himself as if to dismiss a nightmare. "I did not come here to say such +things. The enormous luck of catching sight of you, by mere chance, +through the window electrified me. I--I came because I was catapulted +here." He tried to smile and managed it pretty well. "How could I stay +when--there you were! Going into the same garden!" He looked round him +at the greenness with memory awakening. "It's the same garden. The +shrubs have grown much bigger and they have planted some new ones--but +it is the same garden." His look came back to her. "You are the same +Robin," he said softly. + +"Yes," she answered, as she had always answered "yes" to him. + +"You are the same little child," he added and he lifted her hands again, +but this time he kissed them as gently as he had spoken. "God! I'm +glad!" And that was said softly, too. He was not a man of thirty or +forty--he was a boy of twenty and his whole being was vibrating with the +earthquake of the world. + +That he vaguely recognised this last truth revealed itself in his next +words. + +"It would have taken me six months to say this much to you--to get this +far--before this thing began," he said. "I daren't have run after you in +the street. I should have had to wait about and make calls and ask for +invitations to places where I might see you. And when we met we should +have been polite and have talked all round what we wanted to say. It +would have been cheek to tell you--the second time we met--that your +eyes looked at me just as they did when you were a little child. I +should have had to be decently careful because you might have felt shy. +You don't feel shy now, do you? No, you don't," in caressing conviction +and appeal. + +"No--no." There was the note of a little mating bird in the repeated +word. + +This time he spread one of her hands palm upward on his own larger one. +He looked down at it tenderly and stroked it as he talked. + +"It is because there is no time. Things pour in upon us. We don't know +what is before us. We can only be sure of one thing--that it may be +death or wounds. I don't know when they'll think me ready to be sent +out--or when they'll be ready to send me and other fellows like me. But +I shall be sent. I am sitting in a garden here with you. I'm a young +chap and big and strong and I love life. It is my duty as a man to go +and kill other young chaps who love it as much as I do. And they must do +their best to kill me, 'Gott strafe England,' they're saying in +Germany--I understand it. Many a time it's in me to say, 'Gott strafe +Germany.'" + +He drew in his breath sharply, as if to pull himself together, and was +still a moment. The next he turned upon her his wonderful boy's smile. +Suddenly there was trusting appeal in it. + +"You don't mind my holding your hand and talking like this, do you? Your +eyes are as soft as--I've seen fawns cropping among the primroses with +eyes that looked like them. But yours _understand_. You don't mind my +doing this?" he kissed her palm. "Because there is no time." + +Her free hand caught at his sleeve. + +"No," she said. "You're going--you're _going_!" + +"Yes," he answered. "And you wouldn't hold me back." + +"No! No! No! No!" she cried four times, "Belgium! Belgium! Oh! Belgium!" +And she hid her eyes on his sleeve. + +"That's it--Belgium! There has been war before, but this promises from +the outset to be something else. And they're coming on in their +millions. We have no millions--we have not even guns and uniforms +enough, but we've got to stop them, if we do it with our bare hands and +with walls of our dead bodies. That was how Belgium held them back. Can +England wait?" + +"You can't wait!" cried Robin. "No man can wait." + +How he glowed as he looked at her! + +"There. That shows how you understand. See! That's what draws me. That's +why, when I saw you through the window, I had to follow you. It wasn't +only your lovely eyes and your curtains of eyelashes and because you are +a sort of rose. It is you--you! Whatsoever you said, I should know the +meaning of, and what I say you will always understand. It's as if we +answered each other. That's why I never forgot you. It's why I waked up +so when I saw you at the Duchess'." He tried to laugh, but did not quite +succeed. "Do you know I have never had a moment's real rest since that +night--because I haven't seen you." + +"I--" faltered Robin, "have wondered and wondered--where you were." + +All the forces of nature drew him a little nearer to her--though the +gardener who clumped past them dully at the moment only saw a +particularly good-looking young soldier, apparently engaged in agreeable +conversation with a pretty girl who was not a nursemaid. + +"Did you come here because of that?" he asked with frank anxiety. "Do +you come here often and was it just chance? Or did you come because you +were wondering?" + +"I didn't exactly know--at first. But I know now. I have not been here +since I went to live in Eaton Square," she gave back to him. Oh! how +good and beautiful his asking eyes were! It was as he drew even a little +nearer that he saw for the first time the pricked lilac leaves lying on +the bench beside her. + +"Did you do those?" he said suddenly quite low. "Did you?" + +"Yes," as low and quite sweetly unashamed. "You taught me--when we +played together." + +The quick emotion in his flushing face could scarcely be described. + +"How lovely--how _lovely_ you are!" he exclaimed, almost under his +breath. "I--I don't know how to say what I feel--about your remembering. +You little--little thing!" This last because he somehow strangely saw +her five years old again. + +It was a boy's unspoiled, first love making--the charming outburst of +young passion untrained by familiar use to phrases. It was like the +rising of a Spring freshet and had the same irresistible power. + +"May I have them? Will you give them to me with your own little hand?" + +The happy glow of her smiling, as she picked them up and laid them, one +by one, on his open extended palm, was as the glow of the smiling of +young Eve. The dimples playing round her mouth and the quiver of her +lashes, as she lifted them to laugh into his eyes, were an actual peril. + +"Must I give you the pin too?" she said. + +"Yes--everything," he answered in a sort of helpless joy. "I would carry +the wooden bench away with me if I could. But they would stop me at the +gate." They were obliged to treat something a little lightly because +everything seemed tensely tremulous. + +"Here is the pin," she said, taking it from under the lapel of her coat. +"It is quite a long one." She looked at it a moment and then ended in a +whisper. "I must have known why I was coming here--because, you see, I +brought the pin." And her eyelashes lifted themselves and made their +circling shadows again. + +"Then I must have the pin. And it will be a talisman. I shall have a +little flat case made for the leaves and the sacred pin shall hold it +together. When I go into battle it will keep me safe. Bullets and +bayonets will glance aside." He said it, as he laid the treasure away in +his purse, and he did not see her face as he spoke of bullets and +bayonets. + +"I am a Highlander," he said next and for the moment he looked as if he +saw things far away. "In the Highlands we believe more than most people +do. Perhaps that's why I feel as if we two are not quite like other +people,--as if we had been something--I don't know what--to each other +from the beginning of time--since the 'morning stars first sang +together.' I don't know exactly what that means, or how stars sing--but +I like the sound of it. It seems to mean something I mean though I don't +know how to say it." He was not in the least portentous or solemn, but +he was the most strongly feeling and _real_ creature she had ever heard +speaking to her and he swept her along with him, as if he had indeed +been the Spring freshet and she a leaf. "I believe," here he began to +speak slowly as if he were thinking it out, "that there was +something--that meant something--in the way we two were happy together +and could not bear to be parted--years ago when we were nothing but +children. Do you know that, little chap as I was, I never stopped +thinking of you day and night when we were not playing together. I +_couldn't_!" + +"Neither could I stop thinking," said Robin. "I had dreams about seeing +your eyes looking at me. They were blue like clear water in summer. They +were always laughing. I always _wanted_ them to look at me! They--they +are the same eyes now," in a little rush of words. + +Their blueness was on hers--in the very deeps of their uplifted +liquidity. + +"God! I'm _glad_!" his voice was on a hushed note. + +There has never been a limner through all the ages who has pictured--at +such a moment--two pairs of eyes reaching, melting into, lost in each +other in their human search for the longing soul drawing together human +things. Hand and brush and colour cannot touch That which Is and Must +Be--in its yearning search for the spirit which is its life on earth. +Yet a boy and girl were yearning towards it as they sat in mere mortal +form on a bench in a London square. And neither of them knew more than +that they wondered at and adored the beauty in each other's eyes. + +"I didn't know what a little chap I was," he said next. "I'd had a +splendid life for a youngster and I was big for my age and ramping with +health and strength and happiness. You seemed almost a baby to me, +but--it was the way you looked at me, I think--I wanted to talk to you, +and please you and make you laugh. You had a red little mouth with deep +dimples that came and went near the corners. I liked to see them +twinkle." + +"You told me," she laughed, remembering. "You put the point of your +finger in them. But you didn't hurt me," in quick lovely reassuring. +"You were not a rough little boy." + +"I wouldn't have hurt you for worlds. I didn't even know I was cheeky. +The dimples were so deep that it seemed quite natural to poke at +them--like a sort of game." + +"We laughed and laughed. It _was_ a sort of game. I sat quite still and +let you make little darts at them," Robin assisted him. "We laughed like +small crazy things. We almost had child hysterics." + +The dimples showed themselves now and he held himself in leash. + +"You did everything I wanted you to do," he said, "and I suppose that +made me feel bigger and bigger." + +"_I_ thought you were big. And I had never seen anything so wonderful +before. You knew everything in the world and I knew nothing. Don't you +remember," with hesitation--as if she were almost reluctant to recall +the memory of a shadow into the brightness of the moment--"I told you +that I had nothing--and nobody?" + +All rushed back to him in a warm flow. + +"That was it," he said. "When you said that I felt as if some one had +insulted and wronged something of my own. I remember I felt hot and +furious. I wanted to give you things and fight for you. I--caught you in +my arms and squeezed you." + +"Yes," Robin answered. + +"It was because of--that time when the morning stars first sang +together," he answered smiling, but still as _real_ as before. "It +wasn't a stranger child I wanted to take care of. It was some one I +had--belonged to--long--long and long. I'm a Highlander and I know it's +true. And there's another thing I know," with a sudden change almost to +boyish fierceness, "you are one of the things I'm going to face cannon +and bayonets for. If there were nothing else and no one else in England, +I should stand on the shore and fight until I dropped dead and the whole +Hun mass surged over me before they should reach you." + +"Yes," whispered Robin, "I know." + +They both realised that the time had come when they must part, and when +he lifted again the hand nearest to him, it was with the gesture of one +who had reached the moment of farewell. + +"It's our garden," he said. "It's the _same_ garden. Just because there +is no time--may I see you here again? I can't go away without knowing +that." + +"I will come," she answered, "whenever the Duchess does not need me. You +see I belong to nobody but myself." + +"I belong to people," he said, "but I belong to myself too." He paused a +second or so and a strange half puzzled expression settled in his eyes. +"It's only fair that a man who's looking the end of things straight in +the face should have something for himself--to himself. If it's only a +heavenly hour now and then. Before things stop. There's such a lot of +life--and such a lot to live for--forever if one could. And a smash--or +a crash--or a thrust--and it's over! Sometimes I can hardly get hold of +it." + +He shook his head as he rose and stood upright, drawing his splendid +young body erect. + +"It's only fair," he said. "A chap's so strong and--and ready for +living. Everything's surging through one's mind and body. One can't go +out without having _something_--of one's own. You'll come, won't +you--just because there's no time? I--I want to keep looking into your +eyes." + +"I want you to look into them," said Robin. "I'll come." + +He stood still a moment looking at her just as she wanted him to look. +Then after a few more words he bent low and kissed her hands and then +stood straight again and saluted and went away. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +There was one facet of the great stone of War upon which many strange +things were written. They were not the things most discussed or +considered. They were results--not causes. But for the stress of mental, +spiritual and physical tempest-of-being the colossal background of storm +created, many of them might never have happened; but the consequences of +their occurrence were to touch close, search deep, and reach far into +the unknown picture of the World the great War might leave in fragments +which could only be readjusted by centuries of time. + +The interested habit of observation of, and reflection on, her kind +which knew no indifferences, in the mind of the Duchess of Darte, +awakened by stages to the existence of this facet and to the moment of +the writings thereupon. + +"It would seem almost as if Nature--Fate--had meant to give a new +impulse to the race--to rouse human creatures to new moods, to thrust +them into places where they see new things. Men and women are being +dragged out of their self-absorbed corners and stirred up and shaken. +Emotions are being roused in people who haven't known what a real +emotion was. Middle-aged husbands and wives who had sunk into +comfortable acceptance of each other and their boys and girls are being +dragged out of bed, as it were, and wakened up and made to stand on +their feet and face unbelievable possibilities. If you have boys old +enough to be soldiers and girls old enough to be victims--your life +makes a sort of _volte face_ and everyday, worldly comforts and +successes or little failures drop out of your line of sight, and change +their values. Mothers are beginning to clutch at their sons; and even +self-centred fathers and selfish pretty sisters look at their male +relatives with questioning, with a hint of respect or even awe in it. +Perhaps the women feel it more than the men. Good-looking, light-minded, +love-making George has assumed a new aspect to his mother and to +Kathryn. They're secretly yearning over him. He has assumed a new aspect +to me. I yearn over him myself. He has changed--he has suddenly grown +up. Boys are doing it on every hand." + +"The youngest youngster vibrates with the shock of cannon firing, even +though the sound may not be near enough to be heard," answered Coombe. +"We're all vibrating unconsciously. We are shuddering consciously at the +things we hear and are mad to put a stop to, before they go further." + +"Innocent little villages full of homes torn and trampled under foot and +burned!" the Duchess almost cried out. "And worse things than +that--worse things! And the whole monstrosity growing more huge and +throwing out new and more awful tentacles every day." + +"Every hour. No imagination has yet conceived what it may be." + +"That is why the poor human things are clutching at each other, and +finding values and attractions where they did not see them before. +Colonel Marion and his wife were here yesterday. He is a stout man over +fifty and has a red face and prominent eyes. His wife has been so +occupied with herself and her children that she had almost forgotten he +existed. She looked at and listened to him as if she were a bride." + +"I have seen changes of that sort myself," said Coombe. "He is more +alive himself. He has begun to be of importance. And men like him have +been killed already--though the young ones go first." + +"The young ones know that, and they clutch the most frantically. That is +what I am seeing in young eyes everywhere. Mere instinct makes it +so--mere uncontrollable instinct which takes the form of a sort of +desperateness at facing the thousand chances of death before they have +lived. They don't know it isn't actual fear of bullets and shrapnel. +Sometimes they're afraid it's fear and it makes them sick at themselves +and determined to grin and hide it. But it isn't fear--it's furious +Nature protesting." + +"There are hasty bridals and good-bye marriages being made in all +ranks," Coombe put in. "They are inevitable." + +"God help the young things--those of them who never meet again--and +perhaps, also, some of those who do. The nation ought to take care of +the children. If there is a nation left, God knows they will be needed," +the Duchess said. "One of my footmen who 'joined up' has revealed an +unsuspected passion for a housemaid he used to quarrel with, and who +seemed to detest him. I have three women in my household who have +soldier lovers in haste to marry them. I shall give them my blessing and +take care of the wives when they are left behind. One can be served by +old men and married women--and one can turn cottages into small +orphanages if the worst happens." + +There was a new vigour in her splendid old face and body. + +"There is a reason now why I am the Dowager Duchess of Darte," she went +on, "and why I have money and houses and lands. There is a reason why I +have lived when it sometimes seemed as if my usefulness was over. There +are uses for my money--for my places--for myself. Lately I have found +myself saying, as Mordecai said to Esther, 'Who knowest whether thou art +not come to the kingdom for such a time as this.' A change is taking +place in me too. I can do more because there is so much more to do. I +can even use my hands better. Look at them." + +She held them out that he might see them--her beautiful old-ivory +fingers, so long stiffened by rheumatism. She slowly opened and shut +them. + +"I can move them more--I have been exercising them and having them +rubbed. I want to be able to knit and sew and wait on myself and perhaps +on other people. Because I have been a rich, luxurious old woman it has +not occurred to me that there were rheumatic old women who were forced +to do things because they were poor--the things I never tried to do. I +have begun to try." + +She let her hands fall on her lap and sat gazing up at him with a rather +strange expression. + +"Do you know what I have been doing?" she said. "I have been praying to +God--for a sort of miracle. In their terror people are beginning to ask +their Deity for things as they have never done it before. We are most of +us like children waking in horror of the black night and shrieking for +some one to come--some one--any one! Each creature cries out to his own +Deity--the God his own need has made. Most of us are doing it in +secret--half ashamed to let it be known. We are abject things. Mothers +and fathers are doing it--young lovers and husbands and wives." + +"What miracle are you asking for?" + +"For power to do things I have not done for years. I want to walk--to +stand--to work. If under the stress of necessity I begin to do all +three, my doctors will say that mental exaltation and will power have +caused the change. It may be true, but mental exaltation and will power +are things of the soul not of the body. Anguish is actually forcing me +into a sort of practical belief. I am trying to 'have faith even as a +grain of mustard seed' so that I may say unto my mountain, 'Remove hence +to yonder place and it shall be removed.'" + +"'The things which I do, ye shall do also and even greater things than +these shall ye do.'" Coombe repeated the words deliberately. "I heard an +earnest middle-aged dissenter preach a sermon on that text a few days +ago." + +"What?"--his old friend leaned forward. "Are _you_ going to hear +sermons?" + +"I am one of the children, I suppose. Though I do not shriek aloud, +probably something shrieks within me. I was passing a small chapel and +heard a singular voice. I don't know exactly why I went into the place, +but when I sat down inside I felt the tension of the atmosphere at once. +Every one looked anxious or terrified. There were pale faces and stony +or wild eyes. It did not seem to be an ordinary service and voices kept +breaking out with spasmodic appeals, 'Almighty God, look down on us!' +'Oh, Christ, have mercy!' 'Oh, God, save us!' One woman in black was +rocking backwards and forwards and sobbing over and over again, 'Oh, +Jesus! Jesus! Oh, Lord Jesus!'" + +"Part of her body and soul was lying done to death in some field--or by +some roadside," said the Duchess. "She could not pray--she could only +cry out. I can hear her, 'Oh, Lord Jesus!'" + +Later came the morning when the changed George came to say good-bye. He +was wonderfully good-looking in his khaki and seemed taller and more +square of jaw. He made a few of the usual young jokes which were +intended to make things cheerful and to treat affectionate fears +lightly, but his good-natured blue eye held a certain deadly quiet in +its depths. + +His mother and Kathryn were with him, and it was while they were +absorbed in anxious talk with the Duchess that he walked over to where +Robin sat and stood before her. + +"Will you come into the library and let me say something to you? I don't +want to go away without saying it," he put it to her. + +The library was the adjoining room and Robin rose and went with him +without any comment or question. Already the time had come when +formalities had dropped away and people did not ask for trivial +explanations. The pace of events had become too rapid. + +"There are a lot of chances when a man goes out--that he won't come +back," he said, still standing after she had taken a place in the +window-seat he guided her to. "There are not as many as one's friends +can't help thinking--but there are enough to make him feel he'd like to +leave things straight when he goes. What I want you to let me say is, +that the minute I had made a fool of myself the night of the dance, I +knew what an ass I had been and I was ready to grovel." + +Robin's lifted face was quite gentle. Suddenly she was thinking +self-reproachingly, "Oh, poor boy--poor boy!" + +"I flew into a temper and would not let you," she answered him. "It +_was_ temper--but there were things you didn't know. It was not your +fault that you didn't." The square, good-natured face flushed with +relief, and George's voice became even slightly unsteady. + +"That's kind of you," he said, "it's _kind_ and I'm jolly grateful. +Things mean a lot just now--with all one's people in such a state and +trying so pluckily to hide it. I just wanted to make sure that you knew +that _I_ knew that the thing only happened because I was a silly idiot +and for no other reason. You will believe me, won't you, and won't +remember it if you ever remember me?" + +"I shall remember you--and it is as if--that had never happened at all." + +She put out, as she got up, such a kind hand that he grasped it almost +joyously. + +"You have made it awfully easy for me. Thank you, Miss Lawless." He +hesitated a second and then dropped his voice. "I wonder if I dare--I +wonder if it would be cheek--and impudence if I said something else?" + +"Scarcely anything seems cheek or impudence now," Robin answered with +simple sadness. "Nothing ordinary seems to matter because _everything_ +is of so much importance." + +"I feel as if what I wanted to say was one of the things that _are_ +important. I don't know what--older people--or safe ones--would think +about it, but--" He broke off and began again. "To _us_ young ones who +are facing-- It's the only big thing that's left us--in our bit of the +present. We can only be sure of to-day--" + +"Yes--yes," Robin cried out low. "Only to-day--just to-day." She even +panted a little and George, looking into her eyes, knew that he might +say anything, because for a reason she was one of the girls who in this +hour could understand. + +"Perhaps you don't know where our house is," he said quite quickly. "It +is one of those in the Square--facing the Gardens. I might have played +with you there when I was a little chap--but I don't think I did." + +"Nobody did but Donal," she said, quickly also. How did she know that he +was going to say something to her about Donal? + +"I gave him the key to the Gardens that day," he hurried on. "I was at +the window with him when he saw you. I understood in a minute when I saw +his face and he'd said half a dozen words to me. I gave him my key. He +has got it now." He actually snatched at both her hands and gripped +them. It was a _grip_ and his eyes burned through a sort of sudden +moisture. "We can't stay here and talk. But I couldn't _not_ say it! Oh, +I say, be _good_ to him! You would, if he had only a day to live because +some damned German bullet had struck him. You're life--you're +youngness--you're _to-day_! Don't say 'No' to _anything_ he asks of +you--for God's sake, don't." + +"I'd give him my heart in his two hands," gasped Robin. "I couldn't give +him my soul because it was always his." + +"God take care of the pair of you--and be good to the rest of us," +whispered George, wringing her hands hard and dropping them. + +That was how he went away. + +A few weeks later he was lying, a mangled object, in a field in +Flanders. One of thousands--living, laughing, good as honest bread is +good; the possible passer-on of life and force and new thinking for new +generations--one of hundreds of thousands--one of millions before the +end came--nice, healthy, normal-minded George, son and heir of a house +of decent nobles. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +And still youth marched away, and England seemed to swarm with soldiers +and, at times, to hear and see nothing but marching music and marching +feet, though life went on in houses, shops, warehouses and offices, and +new and immense activities evolved as events demanded them. Many of the +new activities were preparations for the comfort and care of soldiers +who were going away, and for those who would come back and would need +more care than the others. Women were doing astonishing work and +revealing astonishing power and determination. The sexes mingled with a +businesslike informality unknown in times of peace. Lovely girls went in +and out of their homes, and from one quarter of London to another +without question. They walked with a brisk step and wore the steady +expression of creatures with work in view. Slim young war-widows were to +be seen in black dresses and veiled small hats with bits of white crape +inside their brims. Sometimes their little faces were awful to behold, +but sometimes they wore a strained look of exaltation. + +The Dowager Duchess of Darte was often absent from Eaton Square. She was +understood to be proving herself much stronger than her friends had +supposed her to be. She proved it by doing an extraordinary amount of +work. She did it in her house in Eaton Square--in other people's houses, +in her various estates in the country, where she prepared her villagers +and tenants for a future in which every farm house and cottage must be +as ready for practical service as her own castle or manor house. Darte +Norham was no longer a luxurious place of residence but a potential +hospital for wounded soldiers; so was Barons Court and the beautiful old +Dower House at Malworth. + +Sometimes Robin was with her, but oftener she remained at Eaton Square +and wrote letters and saw busy people and carried out lists of orders. + +It was not every day or evening that she could easily find time to go +out alone and make her way to the Square Gardens and in fact it was not +often to the Gardens she went. There were so many dear places where +trees grew and made quiet retreats--all the parks and heaths and green +suburbs--and everywhere pairs walked or sat and talked, and were frankly +so wholly absorbed in the throb of their own existences that they had no +interest in, or curiosity concerning, any other human beings. + +"Ought I to ask you to come and meet me--as if you were a little +housemaid meeting her life-guardsman?" Donal had said feverishly the +second time they met. + +A sweet flush ran up to the roots of her hair and even showed itself on +the bit of round throat where her dress was open. + +"Yes, you ought," she answered. "There are no little housemaids and +life-guardsmen now. It seems as if there were only--people." + +The very sound of her voice thrilled him--everything about her thrilled +him--the very stuff her plain frock was made of, the small hat she wore, +her way of moving or quiet sitting down near him, but most of all the +lift of her eyes to his--because there was no change in it and the eyes +expressed what they had expressed when they had first looked at him. It +was a thing which moved him to-day exactly as it had moved him when he +was too young to explain its meaning and appeal. It was the lovely faith +and yearning acceptance of him as a being whose perfection could not be +questioned. There was in it no conscious beguiling flattery or +appraisement--it was pure acceptance and sweet waiting for what he had +to give. He sometimes found himself trembling with his sense of its +simple unearthliness. + +Few indeed were the people who at this time were wholly normal. The +whole world seemed a great musical instrument, overstrung and giving out +previously unknown harmonies and inharmonies. Amid the thunders of great +crashing discords the individual note was almost unheard--but the +individual note continued its vibrations. + +The tone which expressed Donal Muir--in common with many others of his +age and sex--was a novel and abnormal one. His being no longer sang the +healthy human song of mere joy in life and living. A knowledge of +cruelty and brutal force, of helplessness and despair, grew in him day +by day. Causes for gay good cheer and laughter were swept away, leaving +in their places black facts and needs to gaze at with hard eyes. + +"Do you see how everything has _stopped_--how nothing can go on?" he +said to Robin on their second meeting in the Gardens. "The things we +used to fill our time and amuse ourselves with--dancing and tennis and +polo and theatres and parties--how jolly and all right they were in +their day, but how futile they seem just now. How could one even stand +talk of them! There is only one thing." + +The blue of his eyes grew dark. + +"It is as if a gigantic wall were piling itself up between us and Life," +he went on. "That is how I see it--a wall piling itself higher every +hour. It's built of dead things and maimed and tortured ones. It's +building itself of things you can't speak of. It stands between all the +world and living--mere living. We can't go on till we've stormed it and +beaten it down--or added our bodies to it. If it isn't beaten down it +will rise to heaven itself and shut it out--and that will be the end of +the world." He shook his head in sudden defiant bitterness. "If it can't +be beaten down, better the world _should_ come to an end." + +Robin put out her hand and caught his sleeve. + +"It will be beaten down," she cried. "You--_you_--and others like you--" + +"It will be," he said. "And it's because, when men read the day's news, +almost every single one of them feels something leaping up in him that +seems strong enough to batter it to earth single-handed." + +But he gently put out his own hand and took in it the slim gloved one +and looked down at it, as if it were something quite apart and +wonderful--rather as if hands were rare and he had not often seen one +before. + +There was much sound of heavy traffic on the streets. The lumbering of +army motor trucks and vans, the hurry of ever-passing feet and vehicles, +changed the familiar old-time London roar, which had been as that of low +and distant thunder, into the louder rumbling of a storm which had drawn +nearer and was spending its fury within the city's streets themselves. +Just at this moment there arose the sound of some gigantic loaded thing, +passing with unearthly noises, and high above it pierced the shrilling +of fifes. + +Robin glanced about the empty garden. + +"The noise seems to shut us in. How deserted the Gardens look. I feel as +if we were in another world. We are shut in--and shut out," she +whispered. + +He whispered also. He still looked down at the slim gloved hand as if it +had some important connection with the moment. + +"We have so few minutes together," he said. "And I have thought of so +many things I must say to you. I cannot stop thinking about you. I think +of you even when I am obliged to think of something else at the same +time. I am in a sort of tumult every moment I am away from you." He +stopped suddenly and looked up. "I am speaking as if I had been with you +a score of times. I haven't, you know. I have only seen you once since +the dance. But it is as if we had met every day--and it's true--I am in +a sort of tumult. I think thousands of new things and I feel as if I +_must_ tell you of them all." + +"I--think too," said Robin. Oh! the dark dew of her imploring eyes! Oh! +the beat of the little pulse he could actually see in her soft bare +throat. He did not even ask himself what the eyes implored for. They had +always looked like that--as if they were asking to be allowed to be +happy and to love all kind things on earth. + +"One of the new things I cannot help thinking about--it's a queer thing +and I must tell you about it. It's not like me and yet it's the +strongest feeling I ever had. Since the War has changed everything and +everybody, all one's feelings have grown stronger. I never was furious +before--and I've been furious. I've felt savage. I've raged. And the +thing I'm thinking of is like a kind of obsession. It's this--" he +caught her hands again and held her face to face with him. "I--I want to +have you to myself," he exclaimed. + +She did not try to move. She only gazed at him. + +"Nobody else _has_ me--at all," she answered. "No one wants me." + +The colour ran up under his fine skin. + +"What I mean is a little different. Perhaps you mayn't understand it. I +want this--our being together in this way--our understanding and +talking--to be something that belongs to _us_ and to no one else. It's +too sudden and wonderful for any one but ourselves to understand. Nobody +else _could_ understand it. Perhaps we don't ourselves--quite! But I +know what it does to _me_. I can't bear the thought of other people +spoiling the beauty of it by talking it over and looking on." He +actually got up and began to walk about. "Oh, I _ought_ to have +something of my own--before it's all over--I ought! I want this miracle +of a thing--for my own." + +He stopped and stood before her. + +"My mother is the most beloved creature in the world. I have always told +her everything. She has always cared. I don't know why I have not told +her about--this--but I haven't and I don't want to--now. That is part of +the strange thing. I do not want to tell her--even the belovedest woman +that ever lived. I want it for myself. Will you let me have it--will you +help me to keep it?" + +"Like a secret?" said Robin in her soft note. + +"No, not a secret. A sort of sacred, heavenly unbelievable thing we own +together." + +"I understand," was Robin's answer. "It does not seem strange to me. I +have thought something like that too--almost exactly like." + +It did not once occur to them to express, even to themselves, in any +common mental form the fact that they were "in love" with each other. +The tide which swept them with it had risen ages before and bore them on +its swelling waves as though they were leaves. + +"No one but ourselves will know that we meet," she went on further. "I +may come and go as I like in these hurried busy hours. Even Lady Kathryn +is as free as if she were a shop girl. It is as you said before--there +is no time to be curious and ask questions. And even Dowie has been +obliged to go to her cousin's widow whose husband has just been killed." + +Shaken, thrilled, exalted, Donal sat down again and talked to her. +Together they made their plans for meeting, as they had done when +Andrews had slackened her guard. There was no guard to keep watch on +them now. And the tide rose hour by hour. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Aunts and cousins and more or less able relatives were largely drawn on +in these days of stress and need, and Dowie was an efficient person. The +cousin whose husband had been killed in Belgium, leaving a young widow +and two children scarcely younger and more helpless than herself, had no +relation nearer than Dowie, and had sent forth to the good woman a +frantic wail for help in her desolation. The two children were, of +course, on the point of being added to by an almost immediately +impending third, and the mother, being penniless and prostrated, had +remembered the comfortable creature with her solid bank account of +savings and her good sense and good manners and knowledge of a world +larger than the one into which she had been born. + +"You're settled here, my lamb," Dowie had said to Robin. "It's more like +your own home than the other place was. You're well and safe and busy. I +must go to poor Henrietta in Manchester. That's my bit of work, it +seems, and thank God I'm able to do it. She was a fine girl in a fine +shop, poor Henrietta, and she's not got any backbone and her children +are delicate--and another coming. Well, well! I do thank God that you +don't need your old Dowie as you did at first." + +Thus she went away and in her own pleasant rooms in the big house, now +so full of new activities, Robin was as unwatched as if she had been a +young gull flying in and out of its nest in a tall cliff rising out of +the beating sea. + +Her early fever of anxiety never to lose sight of the fact that she was +a paid servitor had been gradually assuaged by the delicate adroitness +of the Duchess and by the aid of soothing time. While no duty or service +was forgotten or neglected, she realised that life was passed in an +agreeable freedom which was a happy thing. Certain hours and days were +absolutely her own to do what she chose with. She had never asked for +such privileges, but the Duchess with an almost imperceptible adjustment +had arranged that they should be hers. Sometimes she had taken Dowie +away on little holidays to the sea side, often she spent hours in +picture galleries or great libraries or museums. In attendance on the +Duchess she had learned to know all the wonders and picturesqueness of +her London and its environments, and often with Dowie as her companion +she wandered about curious and delightful places and, pleased as a +child, looked in at her kind at work or play. + +While nations shuddered and gasped, cannon belched forth, thunder and +flaming, battleships crashed together and sudden death was almost as +unintermitting as the ticking of the clock, among the thousands of +pairing souls and bodies drawn together in a new world where for the +time being all sound was stilled but the throb of pulsing hearts, there +moved with the spellbound throng one boy and girl whose dream of being +was a thing of entrancement. + +Every few days they met in some wonderfully chosen and always quiet +spot. Donal knew and loved the half unknown remote corners of the older +London too. There were dim gardens behind old law courts, bits of mellow +old enclosures and squares seemingly forgotten by the world, there were +the immensities of the great parks where embowered paths and corners +were at certain hours as unexplored as the wilderness. When the Duchess +was away or a day of holiday came, there were, more than once, a few +hours on the river where, with boat drawn up under enshrouding trees, +green light and lapping water, sunshine and silence, rare swans sailing +serenely near as if to guard them made the background to the thrill of +heavenly young wonder and joy. + +It was always the same. Each pair of eyes found in the beauty of the +other the same wonder and, through that which the being of each +expressed, each was shaken by the same inward thrill. Sometimes they +simply sat and gazed at each other like happy amazed children scarcely +able to translate their own delight. Their very aloofness from the +world--its unawareness of their story's existence made for the +perfection of all they felt. + +"It could not be like this if any one but ourselves even _knew_," Donal +said. "It is as if we had been changed into spirits and human beings +could not see us." + +There was seldom much leisure in their meetings. Sometimes they had only +a few minutes in which to exchange a word or so, to cling to each +other's hands. But even in these brief meetings the words that were said +were food for new life and dreams when they were apart. And the tide +rose. + +But it did not overflow until one early morning when they met in a +gorse-filled hollow at Hampstead, each looking at the other pale and +stricken. In Robin's wide eyes was helpless horror and Donal knew too +well what she was going to say. + +"Lord Halwyn is killed!" she gasped out. "And four of his friends! We +all danced the tango together--and that new kicking step!" She began to +sob piteously. Somehow it was the sudden memory of the almost comic +kicking step which overwhelmed her with the most gruesome sense of +awfulness--as if the world had come to an end. + +"It was new--and they laughed so! They are killed!" she cried beating +her little hands. He had just heard the same news. Five of them! And he +had heard details she had been spared. + +He was as pale as she. He stood before her quivering, hot and cold. +Until this hour they had been living only through the early growing +wonder of their dream; they had only talked together and exquisitely +yearned and thrilled at the marvel of every simple word or hand-touch or +glance, and every meeting had been a new delight. But now suddenly the +being of each shook and called to the other in wild need of the nearer +nearness which is comfort and help. It was early--early morning--the +heath spread about them wide and empty, and at that very instant a +skylark sprang from its hidden nest in the earth and circled upward to +heaven singing as to God. + +"They will take _you_!" she wailed. "_You--you!_" And did not know that +she held out her arms. + +But he knew--with a great shock of incredible rapture and tempestuous +answering. He caught her softness to his thudding young chest and kissed +her sobbing mouth, her eyes, her hair, her little pulsing throat. + +"Oh, little love," he himself almost sobbed the words. "Oh, little +lovely love!" + +She melted into his arms like a weeping child. It was as if she had +always rested there and it was mere Nature that he should hold and +comfort her. But he had never heard or dreamed of the possibility of +such anguish as was in her sobbing. + +"They will take you!" she said. "And--you danced too. And I must not +hold you back! And I must stay here and wait and wait--and _wait_--until +some day--! Donal! Donal!" + +He sat down with her amongst the gorse and held her on his knee as if +she had been six years old. She did not attempt to move but crouched +there and clung to him with both hands. She remembered only one +thing--that he must go! And there were cannons--and shells singing and +screaming! And boys like George in awful heaps. No laughing face as it +had once looked--all marred and strange and piteously lonely as they +lay. + +It took him a long time to calm her terror and woe. When at last he had +so far quieted her that her sobs came only at intervals she seemed to +awaken to sudden childish awkwardness. She sat up and shyly moved. "I +didn't mean--I didn't know--!" she quavered. "I am--I am sitting on your +knee like a baby!" But he could not let her go. + +"It is because I love you so," he answered in his compelling boy voice, +holding her gently. "Don't move--don't move! There is no time to think +and wait--or care for anything--if we love each other. We _do_ love each +other, don't we?" He put his cheek against hers and pressed it there. +"Oh, say we do," he begged. "There is no time. And listen to the skylark +singing!" + +The butterfly-wing flutter of her lashes against his cheek as she +pressed the softness of her own closer, and the quick exquisite +indrawing of her tender, half-sobbing childish breath were unspeakably +lovely answering things--though he heard her whisper. + +"Yes, Donal! Donal!" And again, "Donal! Donal!" + +And he held her closer and kissed her very gently again. And they sat +and whispered that they loved each other and had always loved each other +and would love each other forever and forever and forever. Poor enrapt +children! It has been said before, but they said it again and yet again. +And the circling skylark seemed to sing at the very gates of God's +heaven. + +So the tide rose to its high flowing. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The days of gold which linked themselves one to another with strange +dawns of pearl and exquisite awakenings, each a miracle, the gemmed +night whose blue darkness seemed studded with myriads of new stars, the +noons whose heats or rains were all warm scents of flowers and fragrant +mists, wrought themselves into a chain of earthly beauty. The hour in +which the links must break and the chain end was always a faint spectre +veiled by kindly mists which seemed to rise hour by hour to soften and +hide it. + +But often in those days did it occur that the hurrying and changing +visitors to the house in Eaton Square, glancing at Robin as she sat +writing letters, or as she passed them in some hall or room, found +themselves momentarily arrested in an almost startled fashion by the +mere radiance of her. + +"She is lovelier every time one turns one's head towards her," the +Starling said--the Starling having become a vigorous worker and the +Duchess giving welcome to any man, woman or child who could be counted +on for honest help. "It almost frightens me to see her eyes when she +looks up suddenly. It is like finding one's self too close to a star. A +star in the sky is all very well--but a star only three feet away from +one is a kind of shock. What has happened to the child?" + +She said it to Gerald Vesey who between hours of military training was +helping Harrowby to arrange a matinee for the benefit of the Red Cross. +Harrowby had been rejected by the military authorities on account of +defective sight and weak chest but had with a promptness unexpected by +his friends merged himself into unprominent, useful hard work which +frequently consisted of doing disagreeable small jobs men of his type +generally shied away from. + +"Something has happened to her," answered Vesey. "She has the flight of +a skylark let out of a cage. Her moving is flight--not ordinary walking. +I hope her work has kept her away from--well, from young gods and +things." + +"The streets are full of them," said Harrowby, "marching to defy death +and springing to meet glory--marching not walking. Young Mars and Ajax +and young Paris with Helen in his eyes. She might be some youngster's +Helen! Why do you hope her work has kept her away?" + +Vesey shook his Greek head with a tragic bitterness. + +"Oh! I don't know," he groaned. "There's too much disaster piled high +and staring in every one of their flushing rash young faces. On they go +with their heads in the air and their hearts thumping, and hoping and +refusing to believe in the devil and hell let loose--and the whole thing +stares and gibbers at them." + +But each day her eyes looked larger and more rapturously full of +heavenly glowing, and her light movements were more like bird flight, +and her swiftness and sweet readiness to serve delighted and touched +people more, and they spoke oftener to and of her, and felt actually a +thought uplifted from the darkness because she was like pure light's +self. + +Lord Coombe met her in the street one evening at twilight and he stopped +to speak to her. + +"I have just come from Darte Norham," he said to her. "The Duchess +asked me to see you personally and make sure that you do not miss Dowie +too much--that you are not lonely." + +"I am very busy and am very well taken care of," was her answer. "The +servants are very attentive and kind. I am not lonely at all, thank you. +The Duchess is very good to me." + +Donal evidently knew nothing of her reasons for disliking Lord Coombe. +She could not have told him of them. He did not dislike his relative +himself and in fact rather liked him in spite of the frigidity he +sometimes felt. He, at any rate, admired his cold brilliance of mind. +Robin could not therefore let herself detest the man and regard him as +an enemy. But she did not like the still searching of the grey eyes +which rested on her so steadily. + +"The Duchess wished me to make sure that you did not work too +enthusiastically. She desires you to take plenty of exercise and if you +are tired to go into the country for a day or two of fresh air and rest. +She recommends old Mrs. Bennett's cottage at Mersham Wood. The place is +quite rustic though it is near enough to London to be convenient. You +might come and go." + +"She is too kind--too kind," said Robin. "Oh! _how_ kind to think of me +like that. I will write and thank her." + +The sweet gratitude in her eyes and voice were touching. She could not +speak steadily. + +"I may tell her then that you are well taken care of and that you are +happy," the grey eyes were a shade less cold but still searching and +steady. "You look--happy." + +"I never was so happy before. Please--please tell her that when you +thank her for me," was Robin's quite yearning little appeal. She held +out her hand to him for the first time in her life. "Thank you, Lord +Coombe, for so kindly delivering her beautiful message." + +His perfect manner did not record any recognition on his part of the +fact that she had done an unexpected thing. But as he went on his way he +was thinking of it. + +"She is very happy for some reason," he thought. "Perhaps the rush and +excitement of her new work exalts her. She has the ecstasied air of a +lovely child on her birthday--with all her world filled with petting and +birthday gifts." + +The Duchess evidently extended her care to the extent of sending special +messages to Mrs. James, the housekeeper, who began to exercise a +motherly surveillance over Robin's health and diet and warmly to +advocate long walks and country visits to the cottage at Mersham Wood. + +"Her grace will be really pleased if you take a day or two while she's +away. She's always been just that interested in those about her, Miss," +Mrs. James argued. "She wouldn't like to come back and find you looking +tired or pale. Not that there's much danger of that," quite beamingly. +"For all your hard work, I must say you look--well, you look as I've +never seen you. And you always had a colour like a new-picked rose." + +The colour like a new-picked rose ran up to the rings of hair on the +girl's forehead as if she were made a little shy. + +"It is because her grace has been so good--and because every one is so +kind to me," she said. "Kindness makes me happy." + +She was so happy that she was never tired and was regarded as a young +wonder in the matter of work and readiness and exactitude. Her accounts, +her correspondence, her information were always in order. When she took +the prescribed walks and in some aloof path or corner met the strong, +slim khaki-clad figure, they walked or stood or sat closely side by side +and talked of many things--though most of all they dwelt on one. She +could ask Donal questions and he could throw light on such things as +young soldiers knew better than most people. She came into close +touch--a shuddering touch sometimes it was--with needs and facts +concerning marchings and trenches and attacks and was therefore able to +visualise and to speak definitely of necessities not always understood. + +"How did you find that out?" little black-clad Lady Kathryn asked her +one day. "I wish I had known it before George went away." + +"A soldier told me," was her answer. "Soldiers know things we don't." + +"The world is made of soldiers now," said Kathryn. "And one is always +talking to them. I shall begin to ask them questions about small things +like that." + +It was the same morning that as they stood alone together for a few +minutes Kathryn suddenly put her hand upon Robin's shoulder. + +"You never--_never_ feel the least angry--when you remember about +George--the night of the dance," she pleaded shakily. "Do you, Robin? +You couldn't _now_! Could you?" + +Tears rushed into Robin's eyes. + +"Never--never!" she said. "I always remember him--oh, quite differently! +He----" she hesitated a second and began again. "He did something--so +wonderfully kind--before he went away--something for me. That is what I +remember. And his nice voice--and his good eyes." + +"Oh! he _was_ good! He was!" exclaimed Kathryn in a sort of despairing +impatience. "So many of them are! It's awful!" And she sat down in the +nearest chair and cried hopelessly into her crushed handkerchief while +Robin tried to soothe--not to comfort her. There was no comfort to +offer. And behind the rose tinted mists her own spectre merely pretended +to veil itself. + + * * * * * + +When she lay in bed at night in her quiet room she often lay awake long +and long for pure bliss. The world in which people were near--_near_--to +one another and loved each other, the world Donal had always belonged to +even when he was a little boy, she now knew and lived in. There was no +loneliness in it. If there was pain or trouble some one who loved you +was part of it and you, and so you could bear it. All the radiant +mornings and heavenly nights, all the summer scents of flowers or hay or +hedges in bloom, or new rain on the earth, were things felt just as that +other one felt them and drew in their delights--exactly in the same way. +Once in the night stillness of a sweet dark country lane she had stood +in the circle of Donal's arm, her joyous, warm young breast against his +and they had heard together the singing of a nightingale in a thicket. + +"Let us stand still," he had whispered close to her ear. "Let us not +speak a word--not a word. Oh! little lovely love! Let us only +_listen_--and be happy!" + +Almost every day there were marvels like this. And when they were apart +she could not forget them but walked like a spirit strayed on to earth +and unknowing of its radiance. This was why people glanced at her +curiously and were sometimes vaguely troubled. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The other woman who loved and was loved by him moved about her world in +these days with a face less radiant than the one people turned to look +at in the street or in its passing through the house in Eaton Square. +Helen Muir's eyes were grave and pondered. She had always known of the +sometime coming of the hour in which would rise the shadow--to him a +cloud of rapture--which must obscure the old clearness of vision which +had existed between them. She had been too well balanced of brain to +allow herself to make a tragedy of it or softly to sentimentalise of +loss. It was mere living nature that it should be so. He would be as +always, a beloved wonder of dearness and beauty when his hour came and +she would look on and watch and be so cleverly silent and delicately +detached from his shy, aloof young moods, his funny, dear involuntary +secrets and reserves. But at any moment--day or night--at any elate +emotional moment _ready_! + +She had the rare accomplishment of a perfect knowledge of _how to wait_, +and to wait--if necessary--long. When the first golden down had shown +itself on his cheek and lip she had not noticed it too much and when his +golden soprano voice began to change to a deeper note and annoyed him +with its uncertainties she had spared him awkwardness by making him feel +the transition a casual natural thing, instead of a personal and +characteristic weakness. She had loved every stage of innocence and +ignorance and adorable silliness he had passed through and he had grown +closer to her through the medium of each, because nothing in life was +so clear as her lovely wiseness and fine perceptive entirety of sympathy +and poise. + +"I never have to explain really," he said more than once. "You would +understand even if I were an idiot or a criminal. And you'd understand +if I were an archangel." + +With a deep awareness she knew that, when she first realised that the +shadow was rising, it would be different. She would have to watch it +with an aloofness more delicate and yet more warmly sensitive than any +other. In the days when she first thought of him as like one who is +listening to a far-off sound, it seemed possible that in the clamour of +louder echoes this one might lose itself and at last die away even from +memory. It was youth's way to listen and youth's way to find it easy to +forget. He heard many reverberations in these days and had much reason +for thought and action. He thought a great deal, he worked +energetically, he came and went, he read and studied, he obeyed orders +and always stood ready for new ones. Her pride in his vigorous +initiative and practical determination was a glowing flame in her heart. +He meant to be no toy soldier. + +As she became as practical a worker as he was, they did much together +and made plans without ceasing. When he was away she was always doing +things in which he was interested and when he returned he always brought +to her suggestions for new service or the development of the old. But as +the days passed and became weeks she knew that the far-off sound was +still being listened to. She could not have told how--but she knew. And +she saw the beloved dearness and beauty growing in him. He came into the +house each day in his khaki as if khaki were a shining thing. When he +laughed, or sat and smiled, or dreamed--forgetting she was there--her +very heart quaked with delight in him. Another woman than Robin counted +over his charms and made a tender list of them, wondering at each one. +As a young male pheasant in mating time dons finer gloss and brilliancy +of plumage, perhaps he too bloomed and all unconscious developed added +colour and inches and gallant swing of tread. As people turned half +astart to look at Robin bending over her desk or walking about among +them in her modest dress, so also did they turn to look after him as he +went in springing march along the streets. + +"Some day he will begin to tell me," Helen used to say to herself at +night. "He may only _begin_--but perhaps it will be to-morrow." + +It was not, however, to-morrow--or to-morrow. And in the midst of his +work he still listened. As he sat and dreamed he listened and sometimes +he was very deep in thought--sitting with his arms folded and his eyes +troubled and questioning of the space into which he looked. The time was +really not very long, but it began to seem so to her. + +"But some day--soon--he will tell me," she thought. + + * * * * * + +One afternoon Donal walked into a room where a number of well-dressed +women were talking, drinking tea and knitting or crocheting. It had +begun already to be the fashion for almost every woman to carry on her +arm a work bag and produce from its depths at any moment without warning +something she was making. In the early days the bag was usually highly +decorated and the article being made was a luxury. Only a few serious +and pessimistic workers had begun to produce plain usefulness and in +this particular Mayfair drawing-room "the War" as yet seemed to present +itself rather as a dramatic and picturesque social asset. A number of +good-looking young officers moved about or sat in corners being petted +and flirted with, while many of the women had the slightly elated +excitement of air produced in certain of their sex by the marked +preponderance of the presence of the masculine element. It was a thing +which made for high spirits and laughs and amiable semi-caressing chaff. +The women who in times of peace had been in the habit of referring to +their "boys" were in these days in great form. + +Donal had been taken to the place by an amusement-loving acquaintance +who professed that a special invitation made it impossible to pass by +without dropping in. The house was Mrs. Erwyn's and had already +attracted attention through the recent _débuts_ of Eileen and Winifred +who had grown up very pretty and still retained their large, curious +eyes and their tendency to giggle musically. + +In very short and slimly alluring frocks they were assisting their +mother in preparing young warriors for the seat of war by giving them +chocolate in egg-shell cups and little cakes. Winifred carried a coral +satin work-bag embroidered with carnations and was crocheting a silk +necktie peculiarly suited to fierce onslaught on the enemy. + +"Oh!" she gasped, clutching in secret at Eileen's sleeve when Donal +entered the room. "There he is! Jack said he would make him come! Just +_look_ at him!" + +"Gracious!" ejaculated Eileen. "I daren't look! It's not safe!" + +They looked, however, to their irresistible utmost when he came to make +his nice, well-behaved bow to his hostess. + +"I love his bow," Eileen whispered. "It is such a beautiful _tall_ bow. +And he looks as good as he is beautiful." + +"Oh! not _good_ exactly!" protested Winifred. "Just _sweet_--as if he +thinks you are quite as nice as himself." + +He was taken from one group to another and made much of and flattered +quite openly. He was given claret cup and feathery sandwiches and asked +questions and given information. He was chattered to and whispered about +and spent half an hour in a polite vortex of presentation. He was not as +highly entertained as his companion was because he was thinking of +something else--of a place which seemed incredibly far away from London +drawing-rooms--even if he could have convinced himself that it existed +on the same earth. The trouble was that he was always thinking of this +place--and of others. He could not forget them even in the midst of any +clamour of life. Sometimes he was afraid he forgot where he was and +might look as if he were not listening to people. There were moments +when he caught his breath because of a sudden high throb of his heart. +How could he shut out of his mind that which seemed to _be_ his +mind--his body--the soul of him! + +It was at a moment when he was thinking of this with a sudden sense of +disturbance that a silver toned voice evidently speaking to him +attracted his attention. + +The voice was of silver and the light laugh was silvery. + +"You look as if you were not thinking of any of us," the owner said. + +He turned about to find himself looking at one of the prettiest of the +filmily dressed creatures in the room. Her frock was one of the briefest +and her tiny heels the highest and most slender. The incredible foot and +ankle wore a flesh silk stocking so fine that it looked as though they +were bare--which was the achievement most to be aspired to. Every atom +of her was lovely and her small deep-curved mouth and pure large eyes +were like an angel's. + +"I believe you remember me!" she said after a second or so in which they +held each other's gaze and Donal knew he began to flush slowly. + +"Yes," he answered. "I do--now I have looked again. You were--The Lady +Downstairs." + +She flung out the silver laugh again. + +"After all these years! After one has grown old and withered and +wrinkled--and has a grown-up daughter." + +He answered with a dazzling young-man-of-the-world bow and air. He had +not been to Eton and Oxford and touched the outskirts of two or three +London seasons, as a boy beauty and a modest Apollo Belvidere in his +teens, without learning a number of pleasant little ways. + +"You are exactly as you were the morning you came into the Gardens +dressed in crocuses and daffodils. I thought they were daffodils and +crocuses. I said so to my mother afterwards." + +He did not like her but he knew how her world talked to her. And he +wanted to hear her speak--The Lady Downstairs--who had not "liked" the +soft-eyed, longing, warm little lonely thing. + +"All people say of you is entirely true," she said. "I did not believe +it at first but I do now." She patted the seat of the small sofa she had +dropped on. "Come and sit here and talk to me a few minutes. Girls will +come and snatch you away presently but you can spare about three +minutes." + +He did as he was told and wondered as he came nearer to the shell +fineness of her cheek and her seraphic smile. + +"I want you to tell me something about my only child," she said. + +He hoped very much that he did not flush in his sometimes-troublesome +blond fashion then. He hoped so. + +"I shall be most happy to tell you anything I have the honour of +knowing," he answered. "Only ask." + +"You would be capable of putting on a touch of Lord Coombe's little +stiff air--if you were not so young and polite," she said. "It was Lord +Coombe who told me about the old Duchess' dance--and that you tangoed or +swooped--or kicked with my Robin. He said both of you did it +beautifully." + +"Miss Gareth-Lawless did--at least." + +He was looking down and so did not chance to see the look of a little +cat which showed itself in her quick side glance. + +"She is not my Robin now. She belongs to the Dowager Duchess of +Darte--for a consideration. She is one of the new little females who are +obstinately determined to earn an honest living. I haven't seen her for +months--perhaps years. Is she pretty?" The last three words came out +like the little cat's pounce on a mouse. Donal even felt momentarily +startled. + +But he remained capable of raising clear eyes to hers and saying, "She +was prettier than any one else at the Duchess' house that night. Far +prettier." + +"Have you never seen her since?" + +This was a pounce again and he was quite aware of it. + +"Yes." + +Feather gurgled. + +"That was really worthy of Lord Coombe," she said. "I wasn't being +pushing, really, Mr. Muir. If any one asks you your intentions it will +be the Dowager--not little Miss Gareth-Lawless' mother. I never +pretended to chaperon Robin. She might run about all over London without +my asking any questions. I am afraid I am not much of a mother. I am not +in the least like yours." + +"Like mine?" He wondered why his mother should be so suddenly dragged +in. + +She laughed with a bright air of being much entertained. + +"Do you remember how Mrs. Muir whisked you away from London the day +after she found out that you were playing with my vagabond of a +Robin--unknowing of your danger? There was a mother for you! It nearly +killed my little pariah." + +She rose and held out her hand. + +"I have not really had my three minutes, but 'I must not detain you any +longer,' as Royal Highnesses say. I must go." + +"Why?" he ejaculated with involuntary impatience. + +"Because Eileen Erwyn is standing with her back markedly turned towards +us, pretending to talk. I know the expression of her little ears and she +has just laid them back close to her head, which means business. Why do +you all at once look _quite_ like Lord Coombe?" Perhaps he did look a +trifle like his relative. He had risen to his feet. + +"I was not aware that I was whisked away from London," he said. + +"I was," with pretty impudence. "You were bundled back to Scotland +almost before daylight. Lord Coombe knew about it. We laughed immensely +together. It was a great joke because Robin fainted and fell into the +mud, or something of the sort, when you didn't turn up the next morning. +She almost pined away and died of grief, tiresome little thing! I told +you Eileen was preparing to assault. Here she is! Hordes of girls will +now advance upon you. So glad to have had you even for a few treasured +seconds. _Good_ afternoon." + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was not a long time before he had left the house, but it seemed long +and as if he had thought a great many rather incoherent things before he +had reached the street and presently parted from his gay acquaintance +and was on his way to his mother's house where she was spending a week, +having come down from Scotland as she did often. + +He walked all the way home because he wanted movement. He also wanted +time to think things over because the intensity of his own mood troubled +him. It was new for him to think much about himself, but lately he had +found himself sometimes wondering at, as well as shaken by, emotional +mental phases through which he passed. A certain moving fancy always +held its own in his thoughts--as a sort of background to them. It was in +his feeling that he was in those weeks a Donal Muir who was unknown and +unseen by the passing world. No one but himself--and Robin--could know +the meaning, the feeling, the nature of this Donal. It was as if he +lived in a new Dimension of whose existence other people did not know. +He could not have explained because it would not have been understood. +He could vaguely imagine that effort at explanation would end--even +begin--by being so clumsy that it would be met by puzzled or unbelieving +smiles. + +To walk about--to sleep--to awaken surrounded by rarefied light and air +in which no object or act or even word or thought wore its past familiar +meaning, or to go about the common streets, feeling as though somehow +one were apart and unseen, was a singular thing. Having had a youth +filled with quite virile pleasures and delightful emotions--and to be +lifted above them into other air and among other visions--was, he told +himself, like walking in a dream. To be filled continually with one +thought, to rebel against any obstacle in the path to one desire, and +from morning until night to be impelled by one eagerness for some moment +or hour for which there was reason enough for its having place in the +movings of the universe, if it brought him face to face with what he +must stand near to--see--hear--perhaps touch. + +It was because of the world's madness, because of the human fear and +weeping everywhere, because of the new abysses which seemed to yawn +every day on every side, that both soul and senses were so abnormally +overstrung. He was overwhelmed by exquisite compassions in his thoughts +of Robin, he was afraid for her youngness, her sweetness, the innocent +defencelessness which was like a child's. He was afraid of his own young +rashness and the entrancement of the dream. The great lunging chariot of +War might plunge over them both. + +But never for one moment could he force himself to regret or repent. +Boys in their twenties already lay in their thousands on the fields over +there. And she would far, far rather remember the kind hours and know +that they were hidden in his heart for him to remember as he died--if he +died! She had lain upon his breast holding him close and fast and she +had sobbed hard--hard--but she had said it again and again and over and +over when he had asked her. + +It was this aspect of her and things akin to it which had risen in his +incoherent thoughts when he was manoeuvering to get away from the +drawing-room full of chattering people. He knew himself overwhelmed +again by the exquisite compassion because the thing Mrs. Gareth-Lawless +had told him had brought back all the silent anguish of impotent +childish rebellion the morning when he had been awakened before the day, +and during the day when he had thought his small breast would burst as +the train rushed on with him--away--away! + +And Robin had told him the rest--sitting one afternoon in the same chair +with him--a roomy, dingy red arm-chair in an old riverside inn where +they had managed to meet and had spent a long rainy day together. She +had told him--in a queer little strained voice--about the waiting--and +waiting--and waiting. And about the certainty of her belief in his +coming. And the tiny foot which grew numb. And the slow lump climbing in +her throat. And the rush under the shrubs--and the beating hands--and +cries--and of the rose dress and socks and crushed hat covered with mud. +She had not been piteous or dramatic. She had been so simple that she +had broken his heart in two and he had actually hidden his face in her +hair. + +"Oh! Donal, dear. You're crying!" she had said and she had broken down +too and for a few seconds they had cried together rocking in each +other's arms, while the rain streamed down the window panes and +beautifully shut them in, since there are few places more enclosing than +the little, dingy private parlour of a remote English inn on a +ceaselessly rainy day. + +It had all come back before he reached the house in Kensington whose +windows looked into the thick leaves of the plane trees. And at the same +time he knew that the burning anger which kept rising in him was perhaps +undue and not quite fair. But he was thinking it had _not_ been mere +cruel chance--it could have been helped--it need never have been! It +had been the narrow cold hard planning of grown-up people who knew that +they were powerful enough to enforce any hideous cruelty on creatures +who had no defence. He actually found his heated mind making a statement +of the case as wild as this and its very mercilessness of phrase checked +him. The grown-up person had been his mother--his long-beloved--and he +was absolutely calling her names. He pulled himself up vigorously and +walked very fast. But the heat did not quite die down and other thoughts +surged up in spite of his desire to keep his head and be reasonably +calm. There _had_ been a certain narrowness in the tragic separation of +two happy children if the only reason for it had been that the mother of +one was a pretty, frivolous, much gossiped about woman belonging to a +rather too rapid set. And if it had been a reason then, how would it +present itself now? What would happen to an untouched dream if argument +and disapproval crashed into it? If his first intensely passionate +impulse had been his desire to save it even from the mere touch of +ordinary talk and smiling glances because he had felt that they would +spoil the perfect joy of it, what would not open displeasure and +opposition make of the down on the butterfly's wing--the bloom on the +peach? It was not so he phrased in his thoughts the things which +tormented him, but the figures would have expressed his feeling. What if +his mother were angry--though he had never seen her angry in his life +and could only approach the idea because he had just found out that she +had once been cruel--yes, it had been cruel! What if Coombe actually +chose to interfere. Coombe with his unmoving face, his perfection of +exact phrase and his cold almost inhuman eye! After all the matter +concerned him closely. + +"While Houses threaten to crumble and Heads may fall into the basket +there are things we must remember until we disappear," he had said not +long ago with this same grey eye fixed on him. "I have no son. If +Marquisates continue to exist you will be the Head of the House of +Coombe." + +What would _he_ make of a dream if he handled it? What would there be +left? Donal's heart burned in his side when he recalled Feather's +impudent little laugh as she had talked of her "vagabond Robin," her +"small pariah." He was a boy entranced and exalted by his first passion +and because he was a sort of young superman it was not a common one, +though it shared all the unreason and impetuous simplicities of the most +rudimentary of its kind. He could not think very calmly or logically; +both the heaven and the earth in him swept him along as with the rush of +the spheres. It was Robin who was foremost in all his thoughts. It was +because she was so apart from all the world that it had seemed beautiful +to keep her so in his heart. She had always been so aloof a little +creature--so unclaimed and naturally left alone. Perhaps that was why +she had retained through the years the untouched look which he had +recognised even at the dance, in the eyes which only waited exquisitely +for kindness and asked for love. No one had ever owned her, no one +really knew her--people only saw her loveliness--no one knew her but +himself--the little beautiful thing--his own--his _own_ little thing! +Nothing on earth should touch her! + +Because his thinking ended--as it naturally always did--in such +thoughts as these last, he was obliged to turn back when he saw the +plane trees and walk a few hundred feet in the opposite direction to +give himself time. He even turned a corner and walked down another +street. It was just as he turned that poignant chance brought him face +to face with a girl in deep new mourning with the border of white crępe +in the brim of her close hat. Her eyes were red and half-closed with +recent crying and she had a piteous face. He knew what it all meant and +involuntarily raised his hand in salute. He scarcely knew he did it and +for a second she seemed not to understand. But the next second she burst +out crying and hurriedly took out her handkerchief and hid her face as +she passed. One of the boys lying on the blood-wet mire in Flanders, was +Donal's bitter thought, but he had had his kind hours to recall at the +last moment--and even now she had them too. + +Helen Muir from her seat at the window looking into the thick leafage of +the trees saw him turn at the entrance and heard him mount the steps. +The days between them and approaching separation were growing shorter +and shorter. She thought this every morning when she awakened and +realised anew that the worst of it all was that neither knew how short +they were and that the thing which was to happen would be sudden--as +death is always sudden however long one waits. He had never reached even +that _beginning_ of the telling--whatsoever he had to tell. Perhaps it +was coming now. She had tried to prepare herself by endeavouring to +imagine how he would look when he began--a little shy--even a little +lovably awkward? But his engaging smile--his quite darling smile--would +show itself in spite of him as it always did. + +But when he came into the room his look was a new one to her. It was +not happy--it was not a free look. There was something like troubled +mental reservation in it--and when had there ever been mental +reservation between them? Oh, no--that must not--must not be _now_! Not +now! + +He sat down with his cap in his hand as if he had forgotten to lay it +aside or as if he were making a brief call. + +"What has happened, Donal?" she said. "Have you come to tell me that--?" + +"No, not that--though that may come any moment now. It is something +else." + +"What else?" + +"I don't know how to begin," he said. "There has never been anything +like this before. But I must know from you that a--silly woman--has not +been telling me spiteful lies. She is the kind of woman who would say +anything it amused her to say." + +"What was it she said?" + +"I was dragged into a house by Clonmel. He said he had promised to drop +in to tea. There were a lot of people. Mrs. Gareth-Lawless was there and +began to talk to me." + +"Why did you think she might be telling you spiteful lies?" + +"That is it," he broke out miserably impetuous. "Perhaps it may all seem +childish and unimportant to you. But you have always been perfect. You +were the one perfect being. I have never doubted you--" + +"Do you doubt me now?" + +"Perhaps no one but myself could realise that a sort of sore spot--yes, +a sore spot--was left in my mind for years because of a wretched thing +which happened when I was a child. _Did_ you deliberately take me back +to Scotland so suddenly that early morning? Was it a thing which could +have been helped?" + +"I thought not, Donal. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps I was right." + +"Was it because you wanted to separate me from a child I was fond of?" + +"Yes." + +"And your idea was that because her mother was a flighty woman with bad +taste and the wrong surrounding her poor little girl would contaminate +me?" + +"It was because her mother was a light woman and all her friends were +like her. And your affection for the child was not like a child's +affection." + +"No, it wasn't," he said and he leaned forward with his forehead in his +hands. + +"I wanted to put an end to it before it was too late. I saw nothing but +pain in it for you. It filled me with heart-broken fear to think of the +girl such a mother and such a life would make." + +"She was such a little thing--" said Donal, "--such a tender mite of a +thing! She's such a little thing even now." + +"Is she?" said Helen. + +Now she knew he would not tell her. And she was right. Up to that +afternoon there had always been the chance that he would. Night after +night he had been on the brink of telling her of the dream. Only as the +beauty and wonder of it grew he had each day given himself another day, +and yet another and another. But he had always thought the hour would +come and he had been sure she would not grudge him a moment he had held +from her. Now he shut everything within himself. + +"I wish you had not done it. It was a mistake," was all he said. +Suddenly he felt thrown back upon himself, heartsick and cold. For the +first time in his life he could not see her side of the question. The +impassioned egotism of first love overwhelmed him. + +"You met her on the night of the old Duchess' dance," Helen said. + +"Yes." + +"You have met her since?" + +"Yes." + +"It is useless for older people to interfere," she said. "We have loved +each other very much. We have been happy together. But I can do nothing +to help you. Oh! Donal, my own dear!" + +Her involuntary movement of putting her hand to her throat was a piteous +gesture. + +"You are going away," she pleaded. "Don't let anything come between +us--not _now_! It is not as if you were going to stay. When you come +back perhaps--" + +"I may never come back," he answered and as he said it he saw again the +widowed girl who had hurried past him crying because he had saluted her. +And he saw Robin as he had seen her the night before--Robin who belonged +to no one--whom no one missed at any time when she went in or out--who +could come and go and meet a man anywhere as if she were the only little +soul in London. And yet who had always that pretty, untouched air. + +"I only wanted to be sure. It was a mistake. We will never speak of it +again," he added. + +"If it was a mistake, forgive it. It was only because I could not hear +that your life should not be beautiful. These are not like other days. +Oh! Donal my dear, my dear!" And she broke into weeping and took him in +her arms and he held her and kissed her tenderly. But whatsoever +happened--whatsoever he did he knew that if he was to save and hold his +bliss to the end he could not tell her now. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mrs. Bennett's cottage on the edge of Mersham Wood seemed to Robin when +she first saw it to be only a part of a fairy tale. It is true that only +in certain bits of England and in pictures in books of fairy tales did +one see cottages of its kind, and in them always lived with their +grandmothers--in the fairy stories as Robin remembered--girls who would +in good time be discovered by wandering youngest sons of fairy story +kings. The wood of great oaks and beeches spread behind and at each side +of it and seemed to have no end in any land on earth. It nestled against +its primćval looking background in a nook of its own. Under the broad +branches of the oaks and beeches tall ferns grew so thick that they +formed a forest of their own--a lower, lighter, lacy forest where +foxglove spires pierced here and there, and rabbits burrowed and sniffed +and nibbled, and pheasants hid nests and sometimes sprang up rocketting +startlingly. Birds were thick in the wood and trilled love songs, or +twittered and sang low in the hour before their bedtime, filling the +twilight with clear adorable sounds. The fairy-tale cottage was +whitewashed and its broad eaved roof was thatched. Hollyhocks stood in +haughty splendour against its walls and on either side its path. The +latticed windows were diamond-paned and their inside ledges filled with +flourishing fuchsias and trailing white campanula, and mignonette. The +same flowers grew thick in the crowded blooming garden. And there were +nests in the hawthorn hedge. And there was a small wicket gate. + +When Robin caught sight of it she wondered--for a moment--if she were +going to cry. Only because it was part of the dream and could be nothing +else--unless one wakened. + +On the tiny porch covered with honeysuckle in bloom, a little, old fairy +woman was sitting knitting a khaki sock very fast. She wore a clean +print gown and a white apron and a white cap with a frilled border. She +had a stick and a nutcracker face and a pair of large iron bowed +spectacles. She was so busy that she did not seem to hear Robin as she +walked up the path between the borders of pinks and snapdragons, but +when she was quite close to her she glanced up. + +Robin thought she looked almost frightened when she saw her. She got up +and made an apologetic curtsey. + +"Eh!" she ejaculated, "to think of me not hearing you. I do beg your +pardon, Miss, I do that. I was really waiting here to be ready for you." + +"Thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Bennett," Robin answered in a sweet hurry to +reassure her. "I hope you are very well." And she held out her hand. + +Mrs. Bennett had only been shocked at her own apparent inattention to +duty. She was not really frightened and her nutcracker face illuminated +itself with delighted smiles. + +"I don't hear very well at the best of times," she said. "And I've got a +bit of a cold. Just worry, Miss, just worry it is--along of this 'ere +war and my grandsons going marching off every few days seems like. Dick, +that's the youngest as was always my pet, he's the last and he'll be off +any minute--and these is his socks." + +Robin actually picked up a sock and patted it softly--with a childish +quiver of her chin. It seemed alive. + +"Yes, yes!" she said. "Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" + +Mrs. Bennett winked tears out of her eyes hastily. + +"Me being hard of hearing is no excuse for me talking about myself first +thing. Dick, he's an Englishman--and they're all Englishmen--and it's +Englishmen that's got to stand up and do their duty--same as they did at +Waterloo." She swallowed valiantly the lump in her throat. "Her grace +wrote to me about you, Miss, with her own kind hand. She said the +cottage was so quiet and pretty you wouldn't mind it being little--and +me being a bit deaf." + +"I shall mind nothing," said Robin. She raised her voice and tried to +speak very distinctly so as to make sure that the old fairy woman would +hear her. "It is the most beautiful cottage I ever saw in my life. It is +like a cottage in a fairy story." + +"That's what the vicar says, Miss, my dear," was Mrs. Bennett's cheerful +reply. "He says it ought to be hid some way because if the cheap +trippers found it out they'd wear the life out of me with pestering me +to give 'em six-penny teas. They'd get none from me!" quite fiercely. +"Her grace give it to me her own self and it's on Mersham land and not a +lawyer on earth could put me out." + +She became quite active and bustling--picking a spray of honeysuckle and +a few sprigs of mignonette from near the doorway and handing them to +Robin. + +"Your room's full of 'em," she said, "them and musk and roses. You'll +sleep and wake in the midst of flowers and birds singing and bees +humming. And I can give you rich milk and home-baked bread, God bless +you! You _are_ welcome. Come in, my pretty dear--Miss." + +The girl came down from London to the cottage on the wood's edge several +times during the weeks that followed. It was easy to reach and too +beautiful and lone and strange to stay away from. The War ceased where +the wood began. Mrs. Bennett delighted in her and, regarding the Duchess +as a sort of adored deity, would have served her lodger on bended knee +if custom had permitted. Robin could always make her hear, and she sat +and listened so tenderly to her stories of her grandsons that there grew +up between them an absolute affection. + +"And yet we don't see each other often," the old fairy woman had said. +"You flit in like, and flit away again as if you was a butterfly, I +think sometimes when I'm sitting here alone. When you come to stay +you're mostly flitting about the wood and I only see you bit by bit. But +I couldn't tell you, Miss, my dear, what it's like to me. You do love +the wood, don't you? It's a fairy place too--same as this is." + +"It's all fairy, Mrs. Bennett," Robin said. "Perhaps I am a fairy too +when I am here. Nothing seems quite earthly." + +She bent forward suddenly and took the old face in her hands and kissed +it. + +"Eh! I shouldn't wonder," the old fairy woman chuckled sweetly. "I used +to hear tales of fairies in Devonshire in my young days. And you do look +like something witched--but you've been witched for happiness. Babies +look that way for a bit sometimes--as if they brought something with +them when they come to earth." + +"Yes," answered Robin. "Yes." + +It was true that she only flitted in and out, and that she spent hours +in the depths of the wood, and always came back as if from fairy land. + +Once she had a holiday of nearly a week. She came down from town one +afternoon in a pretty white frock and hat and white shoes and with an +air of such delicate radiance about her that Mrs. Bennett would have +clutched her to her breast, but for long-ago gained knowledge of the +respect due to those connected with great duchesses. + +"Like a new young bride you look, my pretty dear--Miss," she cried out +when she first saw her as she came up the path between the hollyhocks in +the garden. "God's surely been good to you this day. There's something +like heaven in your face." Robin stood still a moment looking like the +light at dawn and breathing with soft quickness as if she had come in +haste. + +"God has been good to me for a long time," she said. + + * * * * * + +In the deep wood she walked with Donal night after night when the +stillness was like heaven itself. Now and then a faint rustle among the +ferns or the half awakened movement and sleepy note of a bird in the +leaves slightly stirred the silence, but that was all. Lances of +moonlight pierced through the branches and their slow feet made no sound +upon the thick moss. Here and there pale foxglove spires held up their +late blossoms like flower spirits in the dim light. + +Donal thought--the first night she came to him softly through the +ferns--that her coming was like that of some fair thing not of earth--a +vision out of some old legend or ancient poem of faëry. But he marched +towards her, soldierly--like a young Lohengrin whose silver mail had +changed to khaki. There was no longer war in the world--there never had +been. + +"I brought it with me," he said and took her close in his arms. For a +few minutes the wood seemed more still than before. + +"Do you hear my heart beat?" he said at last. + +"I feel it. Do you hear mine?" she whispered. + +"We love each other so!" he breathed. "We love each other so!" + +"Yes," she answered. "Yes." + +Did every one who saw him know how beautiful he was? Oh his smile that +loved her so and made her feel there was no fear or loneliness left on +earth! He was so tall and straight and strong--a young soldier statue! +When he laughed her heart always gave a strange little leap. It was such +a lovely sound. His very hands were beautiful--with long, strong smooth +fingers and smooth firm palms. Oh! Donal! Donal! And while she smiled as +a little angel might smile, small sobs of joy filled her throat. + +They sat together among the ferns, close side by side. He showed her the +thing he had brought with him. It was a very slender chain of gold with +a plain gold ring hung on it. He put the chain around her neck but +slipped the ring on her finger and kissed it again and again. + +"Wear it when we are together," he whispered. "I want to see it. It +makes you mine as much as if I had put it on in a church with a huge +organ playing." + +"I should be yours without it," answered Robin. "I _am_ yours." + +"Yes," he whispered again. "You are mine. And I am yours. It always was +so--since the morning stars sang together." + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"There are more women than those in Belgium who are being swept over by +the chariots of war and trampled on by marching feet," the Duchess of +Darte said to a group of her women friends on a certain afternoon. + +The group had met to work and some one had touched on a woeful little +servant-maid drama which had painfully disclosed itself in her +household. A small, plain kitchen maid had "walked out" in triumphant +ecstasy with a soldier who, a few weeks after bidding her good-bye, had +been killed in Belgium. She had been brought home to her employer's +house by a policeman who had dragged her out of the Serpentine. An old +story had become a modern one. In her childish ignorance and terror of +her plight she had seen no other way, but she had not had courage to +face more than very shallow water, with the result of finding herself +merely sticking in the mud and wailing aloud. + +"The policeman was a kind-hearted, sensible fellow," said the relator of +the incident. "He had a family of his own and what he said was 'She +looked such a poor little drowned rat of a thing I couldn't make up my +mind to run her in, ma'am. This 'ere war's responsible for a lot more +than what the newspapers tell about. Young chaps in uniform having to +brace up and perhaps lying awake in the night thinking over what the +evening papers said--and young women they've been sweet-heartin' +with--they get wild, in a way, and cling to each other and feel +desperate--and he talks and she cries--and he may have his head blown +off in a week's time. And who wonders that there's trouble.' Do you know +he actually told me that there were a number of girls he was keeping a +watch on. He said he'd begun to recognise a certain look in their eyes +when they walked alone in the park. He said it was a 'stark, frightened +look.' I didn't know what he meant, but it gave me a shudder." + +"I think I know," said the Duchess. "Poor, wretched children! There +ought to be a sort of moratorium in the matter of social laws. The old +rules don't hold. We are facing new conditions. This is a thing for +women to take in hand, practically, as they are taking in hand other +work. It must be done absolutely without prejudice. There is no time to +lecture or condemn or even deplore. There is only time to try to heal +wounds and quiet maddening pain and save life." + +Lady Lothwell took the subject up. + +"In the country places and villages, where the new army is swarming to +be billeted, the clergymen and their wives are greatly agitated. Even in +times of peace one's vicar's wife tells one stories in shocked whispers +of 'immorality'--though the rustic mind does not seem to regard it as +particularly immoral. An illegal baby is generally accepted with simple +resignation or merely a little fretful complaint even in quite decent +cottages. It is called--rather prettily, I think--'a love child' and the +nicer the grandparents are, the better they treat it. Mrs. Gracey, the +wife of our rector at Mowbray Wells told me a few days ago that she and +her husband were quite in despair over the excited, almost lawless, +holiday air of the village girls. There are so many young men about and +uniforms have what she calls 'such a dreadful effect.' Giddy and +unreliable young women are wandering about the lanes and fields with +stranger sweethearts at all hours. Even girls who have been good +Sunday-school scholars are becoming insubordinate. She did not in the +least mean to be improperly humorous--in fact she was quite tragic when +she said that the rector felt that he ought to marry, on the spot, every +rambling couple he met. He had already performed the ceremony in a +number of cases when he felt it was almost criminally rash and idiotic, +or would have been in time of peace." + +"That was what I meant by speaking of the women who were being swept +over by the chariot of war," said the Duchess. "It involves issues the +women who can think must hold in their minds and treat judicially. One +cannot moralise and be shocked before an advancing tidal wave. It has +always been part of the unreason and frenzy of times of war. When Death +is near, Life fights hard for itself. It does not care who or what it +strikes." + + * * * * * + +The tidal wave swept on and the uninitiated who formed the mass of +humanity in every country in the world, reading with feverish anxiety +almost hourly newspaper extras every day, tried to hide a secret fear +that no one knew what was really happening or could trust to the +absolute truth of any spoken or published statement. The exultant hope +of to-day was dashed to-morrow. The despair of the morning was lightened +by gleams of hope before night closed, and was darkened and lightened +again and again. Great cities and towns aroused themselves from a +half-somnolent belief in security. Village by village England awakened +to what she faced in common with an amazed and half incredulous world. +The amazement and incredulity were founded upon a certain mistaken +belief in a world predominance of the laws of decency and civilisation. +The statement of piety and morality that the world in question was a +bad one, filled with crime, had somehow so far been accepted with a +guileless reservation in the matter of a ruling majority whose lapses +from virtue were at least not openly vaunted treachery, blows struck at +any unprepared back presenting itself, merciless attacks on innocence +and weakness, and savage gluttings of lust, of fury, with exultant pćans +of self-glorification and praise of a justly applauding God. Before such +novelty of onslaught the British mind had breathless moments of feeling +itself stupid and incapably aghast. But after its first deep draughts of +the cup of staggering the nation braced up a really muscular back and +stood upon hard, stout legs and firm feet, immovable and fixed on solid +British earth. + +Incompetent raw troops gathered from fields, shops and desks, half +trained, half clad, half armed, according to pessimistic report, fared +forth across the narrow Channel and did strangely competent things--this +being man's way when in dire moments needs must be. Riff-raff exalted +itself and also died competently enough. The apparently aimless male +offspring of the so-called useless rich and great died competently +enough with the rest. The Roll of Honour raked fore and aft. The +youngsters who had tangoed best and had shone in _cabarets_ were swept +away as grass by scythes. + +"Will any one be left?" white Robin shuddered, clinging to Donal in the +wood at night. "Every day there are new ones. Almost every one who has +gone! Kathryn says that no one--_no one_ will ever come back!" + +"Hush--sh! Hush--sh!" whispered Donal. "Hush--sh! little lovely love!" +And his arms closed so tightly around her that she could for a few +moments scarcely breathe. + +The Duchess had much work for her to do and was glad to see that the +girl looked well and untired. When she was at home in Eaton Square her +grace was even more strict about the walks and country holidays than she +had been when she was away. + +"Health and strength were never so much needed," she said. "We must keep +our bodies in readiness for any test or strain." + +This notwithstanding, there was at last a morning when Robin looked as +though she had not slept well. It was so unusual a thing that the +Duchess spoke of it. + +"I hope you have not been sitting up late at your work?" she said. + +"No. Thank you," Robin answered. "I went to bed last night at ten +o'clock." + +The Duchess looked at her seriously. Never before had she seen her with +eyes whose misted heaviness suggested tears. Was it possible that there +seemed something at once strained and quivering about her mouth--as if +she were making an effort to force the muscles to hold it still. + +"I hope you would tell me if you had a headache. You must, you know, my +dear." + +Robin's slight movement nearer to her had the air of being almost +involuntary--as if it were impelled by an uncontrollable yearning to be +a little near _something_--some one. The strained and quivering look was +even more noticeable and her lifted eyes singularly expressed something +she was trying to hold back. + +"Thank you--indeed!" she said. "But it isn't headache. It is--things I +could not help thinking about in the night." + +The Duchess took her hand and patted it with firm gentleness. + +"You mustn't, my dear. You must try hard _not_ to do it. We shall be of +no use if we let our minds go. We must try to force ourselves into a +sort of deafness and blindness in certain directions. I am trying--with +all my might." + +"I know I must," Robin answered not too steadily. "I must--more than +most people. I'm not brave and strong. I'm weak and cowardly--cowardly." +Her breath caught itself and she went on quickly, "Work helps more than +anything else. I want to _work_ all the time. Please may I begin the +letters now?" + +She was bending over her desk when Lord Coombe came in earlier than was +his custom. The perfection of his dress, his smooth creaselessness and +quiet harmony of color and line seemed actually to add to the aged look +of his face. His fine rigidity was worn and sallowed. After his greeting +phrases he stood for a space quite silent while the Duchess watched him +as if waiting. + +"He has gone?" she said presently. She spoke in quite a low voice, but +it reached Robin's desk. + +"Yes. At dawn. The suddenness and secrecy of these goings add to the +poignancy of them. I saw him but he did not see me. I found out the hour +and made an effort. He is not my boy, but I wanted to _look_ at him. It +was perhaps for the last time. Good God! What a crime!" + +He spoke low himself and rather quickly and with a new tone in his +voice--as if he had been wrenched and was in pain. + +"I am not in a heroic mood. I was only sick and furious when I watched +them go by. They were a handsome, clean-built lot. But he stood out--the +finest among them. His mere beauty and strength brought hideous +thoughts into one's mind--thoughts of German deviltries born of hell." + +Robin was looking at her hand which had stopped writing. She could not +keep it still. She must get up and go to her own rooms. Would her knees +shake under her like that when she tried to stand on her feet? The low +talking went on and she scarcely heard what was said. She and Donal had +always known this was coming; they had known it even the first day they +had talked together in the Garden. The knowledge had been the spectre +always waiting hidden at some turn in the path ahead. That was why they +had been so frightened and desperate and hurried. They had clung +together and shut their eyes and caught at the few hours--the few +heavenly hours. He had said it would come suddenly. But she had not +thought it would be as sudden as this. Last night a soldier had brought +a few wild, passionate blotted lines to her. Yes, they had been blotted +and blistered. She pushed her chair back and began to rise from it. + +There had been a few seconds of dead silence. Lord Coombe had been +standing thinking and biting his lip. "He is gone!" he said. "_Gone!_" + +They did not notice Robin as she left the room. Outside the door she +stood in the hall and looked up the staircase piteously. It looked so +long and steep that she felt it was like a path up a mountain. But she +moved towards the bottom step and began to climb stair by stair--stair +by stair--dragging at the rail of the balustrade. + +When she reached her room she went in and shut the door. She fell down +upon the floor and sat there. Long ago his mother had taken him away +from her. Now the War had taken him. The spectre stood straight in the +path before her. + +"It was such a short time," she said, shaking. "And he is gone. And the +fairy wood is there still--and the ferns!--All the nights--always!" + +And what happened next was not a thing to be written about--though at +the time the same thing was perhaps at that very hour happening in +houses all over England. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The effect of something like unreality produced in the mind of the +mature and experienced by a girl creature, can only be equaled by the +intensity of the sense of realness in the girl herself. That centre of +the world in which each human being exists is in her case more +poignantly a centre than any other. She passes smiling or serious, a +thing of untried eyes and fair unmarked smoothness of texture, and +onlookers who have lived longer than she know that the unmarked +untriedness is a sign that so far "nothing" has happened in her life and +in most cases believe that "nothing" is happening. They are quite sure +they know--long after the thing has ceased to be true. The surface of +her is so soft and fair, and its lack of any suggestion of abysses or +chasms seems to make them incredible things. But the centre of the world +contains all things and when one is at the beginning of life and sees +them for the first time they assume strange proportions. It enters a +room, it talks lightly or sweetly, it whirls about in an airy dance, +this pretty untested thing; and, among those for whom the belief in the +reality of strange proportions has modified itself through long +experience, only those of the thinking habit realise that at any moment +the testing--the marking with deep scores may begin or has perhaps begun +already. At eighteen or twenty a fluctuation of flower-petal tint which +may mean an imperfect night can signify no really important cause. What +could eighteen or twenty have found to think about in night watches? But +in its centre of the world as it stands on the stage with the curtain +rolling up, those who have lived longer--so very long--are only the dim +audience sitting in the shadowy auditorium looking on at passionately +real life with which they have really nothing whatever to do, because +what they have seen is past and what they have learned has lost its +importance and meaning with the changing of the years. The lying awake +and tossing on pillows--if lying awake there is--has its cause in _real_ +joys--or griefs--not in things atrophied by time. So it seems on the +stage, in the first act. If the curtain goes down on anguish and despair +it seems equally the pitiless truth that it can never rise again; the +play is ended; the lights go out forever; the theatre crumbles to dust; +the world comes to an end. But the dim audience sitting in the shadow do +not generally know this. + +To those who came in and out of the house in Eaton Square the figure +sitting at the desk writing letters or taking orders from the Duchess +was that of the unconsidered and unreal girl. Among the changing groups +of women with intensely absorbed and often strained faces the +kind-hearted observing ones were given to noticing Robin and speaking to +her almost affectionately because she was so attractive an object as +well as so industriously faithful to her work. Girls who were +Jacqueminot-rose flushed and who looked up to answer people with eyes +like an antelope's were not customarily capable of concentrating their +attention entirely upon brief letters of request and lists of +necessaries for hospitals and comfort kits. This type was admitted to be +frequently found readier for service in the preparation of +entertainments "for the benefit of"--more especially when such benefits +took the form of dancing. But the Duchess' little Miss Lawless came and +went on errands, wasting no time. She never forgot things or was slack +in any way. Her antelope eyes expressed a kind of yearning eagerness to +do all she could without a moment's delay. + +"She works as if it were a personal thing with her," Lady Lothwell once +said thoughtfully. "I have seen girls wear that look when they are war +brides or have lovers or brothers at the front." + +But she remained to the world generally only a rather specially lovely +specimen of the somewhat unreal young being with whom great agonies and +terrors had but little to do. + +On a day when the Duchess had a cold and was obliged to remain in her +room Robin was with her, writing and making notes of instruction at her +bedside. In the afternoon a cold and watery sun making its way through +the window threw a chill light on her as she drew near with some papers +in her hand. It was the revealing of this light which made the Duchess +look at her curiously. + +"You are not quite as blooming as you were, my child," she said. "About +two months ago you were particularly blooming. Lady Lothwell and Lord +Coombe and several other people noticed it. You have not been taking +your walks as regularly as you did. Let me look at you." She took her +hand and drew her nearer. "No. This will not do." + +Robin stood very still. + +"How could _any_ one be blooming!" broke from her. + +"You are thinking about things in the night again," said the Duchess. + +"Yes," said Robin. "Every night. Sometimes all night." + +The Duchess watched her anxiously. + +"It's so--lonely!" There was a hint of hysteric breakdown in the +exclamation. "How can I--_bear_ it!" She turned and went back to her +writing table and there she sat down and hid her face, trembling in an +extraordinary way. + +"You are as unhappy as that?" said the Duchess. "And you are _lonely_?" + +"All the world is lonely," Robin cried--not weeping, only shaking. +"Everything is left to itself to suffer. God has gone away." + +The Duchess trembled a little herself. She too had hideously felt +something like the same thing at times of late. But this soft shaking +thing--! There shot into her mind like a bolt a sudden thought. Was this +something less inevitable--something more personal? She wondered what +would be best to say. + +"Even older people lose their nerve sometimes," she decided on at last. +"When you said that work was the greatest help you were right. Work--and +as much sleep as one can get, and walking and fresh air. And we must +help each other--old and young. I want you to help _me_, child. I need +you." + +Robin stood up and steadied herself somehow. She took up a letter in a +hand not yet quite still. + +"Please need me," she said. "Please let me do everything--anything--and +never stop. If I never stop in the day time perhaps I shall sleep better +at night." + +As there came surging in day by day bitter and cruel waves of war +news--stories of slaughter by land and sea, of massacre in simple +places, of savagery wrought on wounded men and prisoners in a +hydrophobia of hate let loose, it was ill lying awake in the dark +remembering loved beings surrounded by the worst of all the world has +ever known. Robin was afraid to look at the newspapers which her very +duties themselves obliged her to familiarise herself with, and she could +not close her ears. With battleship raids on harmless coast towns, +planned merely to the end of the wanton killing of such unconsidered +trifles of humanity as little children and women and men at their +every-day work, the circle of horror seemed to draw itself in closely. + +Zeppelin raids leaving fragments of bodies on pavements and broken +things under fallen walls, were not so near as the women who dragged +themselves back to their work with death in their faces written +large--the death of husband or son or lover. These brought realities +close indeed. + +"I don't know how he died," one of them said to the Duchess. "I don't +know how long it took him to die. I don't want to be told. I am glad he +is dead. Yes, I am glad. I wish the other two were dead too. I'm not +splendid and heroic. I thought I was at first, but I couldn't keep it +up--after I heard about Mrs. Foster's boy. If I believed there was +anything to thank, I should say 'Thank God I have no more sons.'" + +That night Robin lay in the dark thinking of the dream. Had there been a +dream--or had it only been like the other things one dreamed about? +Sometimes an eerie fearfulness beset her vaguely. If there were letters +each day! But letters belonged to a time when rivers of blood did not +run through the world. She sat up in bed and clasped her hands round her +knees gazing into the blackness which seemed to enclose and shut her in. +It _had_ been true! She could see the wood and the foxglove spires +piercing the ferns. She could hear the ferns rustle and the little bird +sounds and stirrings. And oh! she could hear Donal whispering. "Can you +hear my heart beat?" + +He had said it over and over again. His heart seemed to be so big and to +beat so strongly. She had thought it was because he was so big and +marvellous himself. It had been rapture to lay her cheek and ear against +his breast and listen. Everything had been so still. They had been so +still--so still themselves for pure joy in their close, close nearness. +Yes, the dream had been true. But here she sat in the dark and +Donal--where was Donal? Where millions of men were marching, +marching--only to kill each other--thinking of nothing but killing. +Donal too. He must kill. If he were a brave soldier he must only think +of killing and not be afraid because at any moment he might be killed +too. She clutched her knees and shuddered, feeling her forehead grow +damp. Donal killing a man--perhaps a boy like himself--a boy who might +have a dream of his own! How would his blue eyes look while he was +killing a man? Oh! No! No! No! Not Donal! + +With her forehead still damp and her hands damp also she found herself +getting out of bed and walking up and down in the dark. She was wringing +her hands and sobbing. She must not think of things like these. She must +shut them out of her mind and think only of the dream. It had been +true--it had! And then the strange thought came to her that out of all +the world only he and she had known of their dreaming. And if he never +came back--! (Oh! please, God, let him come back!) no one need ever +know. It was their own, own dream and how could she bear to speak of it +to any one and why should she? He had said he wanted to have this one +thing of his very own before his life ended--if it was going to end. If +it ended it would be his sacred secret and hers forever. She might live +to be an old woman with white hair and no one would ever guess that +since the morning stars sang together they two had belonged to each +other. + +Night after night she lay awake with thoughts like these. Through the +waiting days she began to find an anguished comfort in the feeling that +she was keeping their secret for him and that no one need ever know. +More than once she went on quietly with her writing when people stood +near her and spoke of him and his regiment, which every one was +interested in because he was so handsome and so young and new to the +leading of men. There were rumours that he must have been plunged into +fierce fighting though definite news did not come through without delay. + +"Boys like that," she heard. "They ought to be kept at home. All the +greatest names will be extinct. And they are the splendid, silly ones +who expose themselves most. Young Lord Elphinstowe a week ago--the last +of his line! Scarcely a fragment of him to put together." There were +women who had a hysterical desire to talk about such things and make +gruesome pictures even of slightly founded stories. But when she heard +them she did not even lift her eyes from her work. + +One marked feature of their meetings--though they themselves had not +marked it--had been that they had never talked of the future. It had +been as though there were no future. To live perfectly through the few +hours--even for the one hour or half hour they could snatch--was all +that they could plan and hope for. Could they meet to-morrow in this +place or that? When they met were they quite safe and blissfully alone? +The spectre had always been waiting and they had always been trying to +forget it. Each meeting had seemed so brief and crowded and breathlessly +sweet. + +Only a boy and a girl could have so lost sight of all but their hour and +perhaps also only this boy and girl, because their hour had struck at a +time when all futures seemed to hold only chances that at any moment +might come to an end. + +"Do you hear my heart beat? There is no time--no time!" these two things +had been the beginning, the middle and the end. + +Sometimes Robin went and sat in the Gardens and one day in coming out +she met her mother whom she had not seen for months. Feather had been +exultingly gay and fashionably patriotic and she was walking round the +corner to a meeting to be held at her club. The khaki colouring of her +coat and brief skirt and cap added to their military air with pipings +and cords and a small upright feather of scarlet. She wore a badge and a +jewelled pin or so. She was about to pass Robin unrecognised but took a +second glance at her and stopped. + +"I didn't know you," she exclaimed. "What is the matter?" + +"Nothing--thank you," Robin answered pausing. + +"Something _is_! You are losing your looks. Is your mistress working you +to death?" + +"The Duchess is very kind indeed. She is most careful that I don't do +too much. I like my work more every day." + +Feather took her in with a sharp scrutinising. She seemed to look her +over from her hat to her shoes before she broke into her queer little +critical laugh. + +"Well, I can't congratulate her on the result. You are thin. You've lost +your colour and your mouth is beginning to drag at the corners." And she +nodded and marched away, the high heels of her beautiful small brown +boots striking the pavement with a military click. + +As she had dressed in the morning Robin had wondered if she was mistaken +in thinking that the awful nights had made her look different. + +If there had been letters to read--even a few lines such as are all a +soldier may write--to read over and over again, to hide in her breast +all day, to kiss and cry over and lay her cheek upon at night. Such a +small letter would have been such a huge comfort and would have made the +dream seem less far away. But everybody waited for letters--and waited +and waited. And sometimes they went astray or were lost forever and +people were left waiting. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +But there were no letters. And she was obliged to sit at her desk in the +corner and listen to what people said about what was happening, and now +and then to Lord Coombe speaking in low tones to the Duchess of his +anxiety and uncertainty about Donal. Anxiety was increasing on every +side and such of the unthinking multitude as had at last ceased to +believe that one magnificent English blow would rid the earth of +Germany, had begun to lean towards belief in a vision of German millions +adding themselves each day to other millions advancing upon France, +Belgium, England itself, a grey encroaching mass rolling forward and +ever forward, overwhelming even neutral countries until not only Europe +but the whole world was covered, and the mailed fist beat its fragments +into such dust as it chose. Even those who had not lost their heads and +who knew more than the general public, wore grave faces because they +felt they knew too little and could not know more. Coombe's face was +hard and grey many days. + +"It seems as if one lost them in the flood sometimes," Robin heard him +say to the Duchess. "I saw his mother yesterday and could give her no +definite news. She believes that he is where the worst fighting is going +on. I could not tell her he was not." + +As, when they had been together, the two had not thought of any future, +so, now Robin was alone, she could not think of any to-morrow--perhaps +she would not. She lived only in the day which was passing. She rose, +dressed and presented herself to the Duchess for orders; she did the +work given her to do, she saw the day gradually die and the lights +lighted; she worked as long as she was allowed to do so--and then the +day was over and she climbed the staircase to her room. + +Sometimes she sat and wrote letters to Donal--long yearning letters, but +when they were written she tore them into pieces or burned them. If they +were to keep their secret she could not send such letters because there +were so many chances that they would be lost. Still there was a hopeless +comfort in writing them, in pouring out what she would not have written +even if she had been sure that it would reach him safely. No girl who +loved a man who was at the Front would let him know that it seemed as if +her heart were slowly breaking. She must be brave--brave! But she was +not brave, that she knew. The news from the Front was worse every day; +there were more women with awful faces; some workers had dropped out and +came no more. One of them who had lost three sons in one battle had died +a few days after the news arrived because the shock had been too great +for her strength to endure. There were new phases of anguish on all +sides. She did all she was called on to do with a secret passion of +eagerness; each smallest detail was the sacred thing. She begged the +Duchess to allow her to visit and help the mothers of sons who were +fighting--or wounded or missing. That made her feel nearer to things she +wanted to feel near to. When they cried or told her stories, she could +understand. When she worked she might be doing things which might +somehow reach Donal or boys like Donal. + +Howsoever long her life was she knew one thing would never be blotted +out by time--the day she went down to Mersham Wood to see Mrs. Bennett, +whose three grandsons had been killed within a few days of each other. +She had received the news in one telegram. There was no fairy wood any +longer, there were only bare branched trees standing holding out naked +arms to the greyness of the world. They looked as if they were +protesting against something. The grass and ferns were brown and sodden +with late rains and there were no hollyhocks and snapdragons in the +cottage garden--only on either side of the brick path dead brown stalks, +some of them broken by the wind. Things had not been neatly cut down and +burned and swept away. The grandsons had made the garden autumn-tidy +every year before this one. + +The old fairy woman sat on a clean print-covered arm chair by a very +small fire. She had a black print dress on and a black shawl and a black +ribbon round her cap. Her Bible lay on a little table near her but it +was closed. + +"Don't get up, please, Mrs. Bennett," Robin said when she lifted the +latch and entered. + +The old fairy woman looked at her in a dazed way. + +"I'm so eye-dimmed with crying that I can scarcely see," she said. + +Robin came to her and knelt down on the hearth. + +"I'm your lodger," she faltered, "who--who used to love the fairy wood +so." + +She had not known what she would say when she spoke first but she had +certainly not thought of saying anything like this. And she certainly +had not known that she would suddenly find herself overwhelmed by a +rising tidal wave of unbearable woe and drop her face on to the old +woman's lap with wild sobbing. She had not come down from London to do +this--but away from the world--in the clean, still little cottage room +which seemed to hold only grief and silence and death the wave rose and +broke and swept her with it. + +Mrs. Bennett only gave herself up to the small clutching hands and sat +and shivered. + +"No one--will come in--will they?" Robin was gasping. "There is no one +to hear, is there?" + +"No one on earth," said the old fairy woman. "Quiet and loneliness are +left if there's naught else." + +What she thought it would be hard to say. The blow which had come to her +at the end of a long life had, as it were, felled her as a tree might +have been felled in Mersham Wood. As the tree might have lain for a +short time with its leaves still seeming alive on its branches so she +seemed living. But she had been severed from her root. She listened to +the girl's sobbing and stroked her hair. + +"Don't be afraid. There's no one left to hear but the walls and the bare +trees in the wood," she said. + +Robin sobbed on. + +"You've a kind heart, but you're not crying for me," she said next. +"You've a black trouble of your own. There's few that hasn't these days. +And it's worse for the young that's got to live through it and after it. +When Mary Ann comes to see after me to-morrow morning I may be lying +dead, thank God. But you're a child." The small clutching hands clutched +more piteously because it was so true--so true. Whatsoever befell there +were all the long, long years to come--with only the secret left and the +awful fear that sometime she might begin to be afraid that it was not a +real thing--since no one had ever known or ever would know and since she +could never speak of it or hear it spoken of. + +"I'm so afraid," she shuddered at last in a small low voice. "I'm so +_lonely_!" The old fairy woman's stroking hand stopped short. + +"Is there--anything--you'd like to tell me--anything in the world?" she +asked tremulously. "There's nothing I'd mind." + +The pretty head on her lap shook itself to and fro. + +"No! No! No! No!" the small choked voice gave out. "Nothing--nothing! +Nothing. That's why it's so lonely." + +As she had waited alone through the night in her cradle, as she had +watched the sparrows on the roofs above her in the nursery, as she had +played alone until Donal came, so it was her fate to be alone now. + +"But you came away from London because there were too many people there +and you wanted to be in a place where there was nothing but an empty +cottage and an old woman. Some would call it lonelier here." + +"The wood is here--the fairy wood!" she cried and her sobbing broke +forth tenfold more bitterly. + +Mrs. Bennett had seen in her day much of the troubles of others and many +of the things she had seen had been the troubles of women who were +young. Sometimes it had been possible to help them, sometimes it had +not, but in any case she had always known that help could be given only +if one asked careful questions. The old established rules with regard to +one's behaviour in connection with duchesses and their belongings had +strangely faded away since the severing of her root as all things on +earth had faded and lost consequence. She remembered no rules as she +bent her head over the girl and almost whispered to her. + +"I won't ask no questions after this one, Miss dear," she said quaking. +"But was there ever--a young gentleman--in the wood?" + +"No! No! No! No!" four times again Robin cried it. "Never! Never!" And +she lifted her face and let her see it white and streaming and with eyes +which desperately defied and as they defied implored for love and aid +and mercy. + +The old fairy woman's nutcracker mouth trembled. It mumbled pathetically +before she was able to control it. She knew she had heard this kind of +thing before though in cases with which great ladies had nothing +whatever to do. And at the same time there was something in this case +that was somehow different. + +"I don't know what to say or do," she faltered helplessly. "With the +world like this--we've got to try to comfort each other--and we don't +know how." + +"Let me come into your arms," said Robin like a child. "Hold me and let +me hold you." She crept near and folding soft arms about the old figure +laid her cheek against the black shawl. "Let us cry. There's nothing for +either of us to do but cry until our hearts break in two. We are all +alone and no one can hear us." + +"There's naught but the wood outside," moaned the old fairy woman. + +The voice against the shawl was a moan also. + +"Perhaps the wood hears us--perhaps it hears. Oh! me! Oh! me!" + + * * * * * + +When she reached London she saw that there were excited groups of people +talking together in the streets. Among them were women who were crying, +or protesting angrily or comforting others. But she had seen the same +thing before and would not let herself look at people or hear anything +she could shut her ears against. Some new thing had happened, perhaps +the Germans had taken some important town and wreaked their vengeance on +the inhabitants, perhaps some new alarming move had been made and +disaster stared the Allies in the face. She staggered through the crowds +in the station and did not really know how she reached Eaton Square. + +Half an hour later she was sitting at her desk quiet and neat in her +house dress. She had told the Duchess all she could tell her of her +visit to old Mrs. Bennett. + +"We both cried a good deal," she explained when she saw her employer +look at her stained eyes. "She keeps remembering what they were like +when they were babies--how rosy and fat they were and how they learned +to walk and tumbled about on her little kitchen floor. And then how big +they grew and how fine they looked in their khaki. She says the worst +thing is wondering how they look now. I told her she mustn't wonder. She +mustn't think at all. She is quite well taken care of. A girl called +Mary Ann comes in three times a day to wait on her--and her daughter +comes when she can but her trouble has made her almost wander in her +mind. It's because they are _all_ gone. When she comes in she forgets +everything and sits and says over and over again, 'If it had only been +Tom--or only Tom and Will--or if it had been Jem--or only Jem and +Tom--but it's Will--and Jem--and Tom,'--over and over again. I am not at +all sure I know how to comfort people. But she was glad I came." + +When Lord Coombe came in to make his daily visit he looked rigid +indeed--as if he were stiff and cold though it was not a cold night. + +He sat down by the Duchess and took a telegram from his pocket. Glancing +up at him, Robin was struck by a whiteness about his mouth. He did not +speak at once. It was as though even his lips were stiff. + +"It has come," he said at last. "Killed. A shell." The Duchess repeated +his words after him. Her lips seemed stiff also. + +"Killed. A shell." + +He handed the telegram to her. It was the customary officially +sympathetic announcement. She read it more than once. Her hands began to +tremble. But Coombe sat with face hidden. He was bowed like an old man. + +"A shell," he said slowly as if thinking the awful thing out. "That I +heard unofficially." Then he added a strange thing, dragging the words +out. "How could that--be blown to atoms?" + +The Duchess scarcely breathed her answer which was as strange as his +questioning. + +"Oh! How _could_ it!" + +She put out her shaking hand and touched his sleeve, watching his face +as if something in it awed her. + +"You _loved_ him?" She whispered it. But Robin heard. + +"I did not know I had loved anything--but I suppose that has been it. +His physical perfection attracted me at first--his extraordinary +contrast to Henry. It was mere pride in him as an heir and successor. +Afterwards it was a _beautiful_ look his young blue eyes had. Beautiful +seems an unmasculine word for such a masculine lad, but no other word +expresses it. It was a sort of valiant brightness and joy in living and +being friends with the world. I saw it every time he came to talk to me. +I wished he were my son. I even tried to think of him as my son." He +uttered a curious low sound like a sudden groan, "My son has been +killed." + + * * * * * + +When he was about to leave the house and stood in the candle-lighted +hall he was thinking of many dark things which passed unformedly through +his mind and made him move slowly. He was slow in his movements as the +elderly maid servant assisted him to put on his overcoat, and he was as +slowly drawing on his gloves when his eyes--slow also--travelled up the +staircase and stopped at the first landing, where he seemed to see an +indefinite heap of something lying. + +"Am I mistaken or is--something--lying on the landing?" he said to the +woman. + +The fact that he was impelled to make the inquiry seemed to him part of +his abnormal state of mind. What affair of his after all were curiously +dropped bundles upon his hostess' staircase? But-- + +"Please go and look at it," he added, and the woman gave him a troubled +look and went up the stairs. + +He himself was only a moment behind her. He actually found himself +following her as if he were guessing something. When the maid cried out, +he vaguely knew what he had been guessing. + +"Oh!" the woman gasped, bending down. "It's poor little Miss Lawless! +Oh, my lord," wildly after a nearer glance, "She looks as if she was +dead!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +"Now no one will ever know." + +Robin waking from long unconsciousness found her mind saying this before +consciousness which was clear had actually brought her back to the +world. + +"Now no one will ever know--ever." + +She seemed to have been away somewhere in the dark for a very long time. +She was too tired to try to remember what had happened before she began +to climb the staircase, which grew steeper and longer as she dragged +herself from step to step. But in the back of her mind there was one +particular fact she knew without trying to remember how she learned it. +A shell had fallen somewhere and when it had burst Donal was "blown to +atoms." How big were atoms--how small were they? Several times when she +reached this point she descended into the abyss of blackness and fainted +again, though people were doing things to her and trying to keep her +awake in ways which troubled her greatly. Why should they disturb her so +when sinking into blackness was better? + +"Now no one will ever know." + +She was lying in her bed in her own room. Some one had undressed her. It +was a nice room and very quiet and there was only a dim light burning. +It was a long time before she came back, after one of the descents into +the black abyss, and became slowly aware that Something was near her +bed. She did not actually see it because at first she could not have +lifted or turned her eyes. She could only lie still. But she knew that +it was near her and she wished it were not. At last--by degrees it +ceased to be a mere _thing_ and evolved into a person. It was a man who +was holding her wrist and watching her quietly and steadily--as if he +had been doing it for some time. No one else was in the room. The people +who had been disturbing her by doing things had gone away. + +"Now," she whispered dragging out word after word, "no one +will--ever--ever know." But she was not conscious she had said it even +in a whisper which could be heard. She thought the thing had only passed +again through her mind. + +"Donal! Blown--to--atoms," she said in the same way. "How small is--an +atom?" She was sinking into the blackness again when the man dropped her +wrist quickly and did something to her which brought her back. + +"Don't!" she moaned. "Please--don't." + +But he would not let her go. + + * * * * * + +Perhaps days and nights passed--or perhaps only one day and night before +she found herself still lying in her bed but feeling somehow more awake +when she opened her eyes and found the same man sitting close to her +holding her wrist again. + +"I am Dr. Redcliff," he said in a quiet voice. "You are much better. I +want to ask you some questions. I will not tire you." + +He began to ask her questions very gently as if he did not wish to alarm +or disturb her. She had been found in a dead faint lying on the landing. +She had remained unconscious for an abnormally long time. When she had +been brought out of one faint she had fallen into another and this had +happened again and again. The indication was that she had been struck +down by some shock. In examining her he had found that she was +underweight. He wished to discover if she had been secretly working too +late at night in her deep interest in what she was doing. What exactly +had her diet been? Had she taken enough exercise in the open air? How +had she slept? The Duchess was seriously anxious. + +They were the questions doctors always asked people except that he +seemed more desirous of being sure of the amount of exercise she had +taken than about anything else. He was specially interested in the times +when she had been in the country. She was obliged to tell him she had +always been alone. He thought it would have been better if she had had +some companion. Once when he was asking her about her visits to Mrs. +Bennett's cottage the blackness almost engulfed her again. But he was +watching her very closely and perhaps seeing her turn white--gave her +some stimulant in time. He had a clever face which was not unkind, but +she wished that it had not had such a keenly watchful look. More than +once the watchfulness tired her and she closed her eyes because she did +not want him to look into them--as if he were asking questions which +were not altogether doctors' questions. + +When he left her and went downstairs to talk to the Duchess he asked a +good many quiet questions again. He was a man whose intense interest in +his profession did not confine itself wholly to its scientific aspect. +An extraordinarily beautiful child swooning into death was not a mere +pathological incident to him. And he knew many strange things brought +about by the abnormal conditions of war. He himself was conscious of +being overstrung with the rest of a tormented world. + +He knew of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless and he had heard more stories of her +household, her loveliness and Lord Coombe than he had time to remember. +He had, of course, heard the unsavoury rumours of the child who was +being brought up for some nefarious object. As he knew Lord Coombe +rather well he did not believe stories about him which went beyond a +certain limit. Not until he had talked to the Duchess for some time did +he discover that the hard-smitten child lying half-lifeless in her bed +was the very young heroine of the quite favourite scandal. The knowledge +gave him furiously to think. It was Coombe who had interested the +Duchess in her. The Duchess had no doubt taken her under her protection +for generously benign reasons. He pursued his questioning delicately. + +"Has she had any young friends? She seems to have taken her walks alone +and even to have gone into the country by herself." + +"The life of the young people in its ordinary sense of companionship and +amusement has been stopped by the War. There may be some who go on in +the old way but she has not been one of them," the Duchess said. + +"Visits to old women in remote country places are not stimulating +enough. Has she had _no_ companions?" + +"I tried--" said the Duchess wearily. She was rather pale herself. "The +news of the Sarajevo tragedy arrived on the day I gave a small dance for +her--to bring some young people together." Her waxen pallor became even +more manifest. "How they danced!" she said woefully. "What living things +they were! Oh!" the exclamation broke forth at a suddenly overwhelming +memory. "The beautiful boy--the splendid lad who was blown to atoms--the +news came only yesterday--was there dancing with the rest!" + +Dr. Redcliff leaned forward slightly. + +"To hear that _any_ boy has been blown to atoms is a hideous thing," he +said. "Who brought the news? Was Miss Lawless in the room when it was +brought?" + +"I think so though I am not sure. She comes in and goes out very +quietly. I am afraid I forgot everything else. The shock was a great +one. My old friend Lord Coombe brought the news. The boy would have +succeeded him. We hear again and again of great families becoming +extinct. The house of Coombe has not been prolific. The War has taken +its toll. Donal Muir was the last of them. One has felt as though it was +of great importance that--that a thing like that should be carried on." +She began to speak in a half-numbed introspective way. "What does it +matter really? Only one boy of thousands--perhaps hundreds of thousands +before it is over? But--but it's the youngness--the power--the potential +meaning--wasted--torn--scattered in fragments." She stopped and sat +quite still, gazing before her as though into space. + +"She is very young. She has been absorbed in war work and living in a +highly charged atmosphere for some time." Dr. Redcliff said presently, +"If she knew the poor lad--" + +"She did not really know him well, though they had met as children. They +danced together that night and sat and talked in the conservatory. But +she never saw him again," the Duchess explained. + +"It might have been too much, even if she did not know him well. We must +keep her quiet," said Dr. Redcliff. + +Very shortly afterwards he rose and went away. + +An hour later he was sitting in a room at Coombe House alone with Lord +Coombe. It was the room in which Mademoiselle Vallé had found his +lordship on the night of Robin's disappearance. No one knew now where +Mademoiselle was or if she were still alive. She had been living with +her old parents in a serene Belgian village which had been destroyed by +the Germans. Black tales had been told of which Robin had been allowed +to hear nothing. She had been protected in many ways. + +Though they had not been intimates the two men knew each other well. To +each individually the type of the other was one he could understand. It +was plain to Lord Coombe that Redcliff found his case of rather special +interest, which he felt was scarcely to be wondered at. As he himself +had seen the too slender prostrate figure and the bloodless small face +with its curtain of lashes lying too heavily close to the cold cheek, he +had realised that their helpless beauty alone was enough to arrest more +than ordinary attention. She had, as the woman had cried out, looked as +if she were dead, and dead loveliness is a reaching power. + +Dr. Redcliff spoke of her thoughtfully and with a certain gentleness. He +at first included her with many other girls, the changes in whose +methods of life he had been observing. + +"The closed gates in their paths are suddenly thrown open for them +because no one has to lock and unlock them," he said. "It produces +curious effects. The light-minded ones take advantage of the fact and +find dangerous amusement in it sometimes. The serious ones go about the +work they have taken in hand. Miss Lawless is, I gather, one of the +thinking and feeling ones and has gone about a great deal." + +"Yes. The Duchess has tried to save her from her own ardour, but perhaps +she has worked too steadily." + +"Has the Duchess always known where she has gone and what people she has +seen?" + +"That would have been impossible. She wished her to feel free and if we +had not wished it, one can see that it would not have been possible to +stand guard over her. Neither was it necessary." + +But he began to listen with special attention. There awakened in his +mind the consciousness that he was being asked questions which suggested +an object. The next one added to his awakening sense of the thing. + +"Her exercise and holidays were always taken alone?" Redcliff said. + +"The Duchess believed so." + +"She has evidently been living under a poignant strain and some ghastly +shock has struck her down. I think she must have been in the room when +you brought the news of young Muir's terrible death." + +"She was," said Coombe. "I saw her and then forgot." + +"I thought so," Redcliff went on. "She cried out several times, 'Blown +to atoms--atoms! Donal!' She was not conscious of the cries." + +"Are you sure she said 'Donal'?" Coombe asked. + +"Quite sure. It was that which set me thinking. I have thought a great +deal. She has touched me horribly. The mere sight of her was enough. +There is desolation in her childlikeness." + +Lord Coombe sat extremely still. The room was very silent till Redcliff +went on in dropped voice. + +"There was another thing she said. She whispered it brokenly word by +word. She did not know that, either. She whispered, 'Now--no one--will +ever--know--ever.'" + +Lord Coombe still sat silent. What he was thinking could not be read in +his face but being a man of astute perception and used to the study of +faces Dr. Redcliff knew that suddenly some startling thought had leaped +within him. + +"You were right to come to me," he said. "What is it you--suspect?" + +That Dr. Redcliff was almost unbearably moved was manifest. He was not a +man of surface emotions but his face actually twitched and he hastily +gulped something down. + +"She is a heartbreakingly beautiful thing," he said. "She has been +left--through sheer kindness--in her own young hands. They were too +young--and these are hours of cataclysm. She knows nothing. She does not +know that--she will probably have a child." + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The swiftness of the process by which the glowing little Miss Lawless, +at whom people had found themselves involuntarily looking so often, +changed from a rose of a girl into something strangely like a small +waxen image which walked, called forth frequent startled comment. She +was glanced at even oftener than ever. + +"Is she going into galloping consumption? Her little chin has grown +quite pointed and her eyes are actually frightening," was an early +observation. But girls who are going into galloping consumption cough +and look hectic and are weaker day by day and she had no cough, nor was +she hectic and, though it was known that Dr. Redcliff saw her +frequently, she insisted that she was not ill and begged the Duchess to +let her go on with her work. + +"But the _done-for_ woe in her face is inexplicable--in a girl who has +had no love affairs and has not even known any one who could have +flirted with her and ridden away. The little thing's _done for_. It +cries out aloud. I can't bear to look at her," one woman protested. + +"I shall send her away if she does not improve," the Duchess said. "She +shall go to some remote place in the Highlands and she shall not be +allowed to remember that there is a war in the world. If I can manage to +send her old nurse Dowie with her she will stand guard over her like an +old shepherd." + +She also had been struck by the look which had been spoken of as +"done-for." Girls did not look like that for any common reason. She +asked herself questions and with great care sat on foot a gradual and +delicate cross-examination of Robin herself. But she discovered no +reason common or uncommon for the thing she recognised each time she +looked at her. It was inevitable that she should talk to Lord Coombe but +she met in him a sort of barrier. She could not avoid seeing that he was +preoccupied. She remotely felt that he was turning over in his mind +something which precluded the possibility of his giving attention to +other questions. + +"I almost feel as if your interest in her had lapsed," she said at last. + +"No. It has taken a--an entirely new form," was his answer. + +It was when his glance encountered hers after he said this that each +regarded the other with a slow growing anxiousness. Something came to +life in each pair of eyes and it was something disturbed and reluctant. +The Duchess spoke first. + +"She has had no companions," she said painfully. "The War put an end to +what I thought I might do for her. There has been _nobody_." + +"At present it is a curious fact that in one sense we know very little +of each other's lives," he answered. "The old leisurely habit of +observing details no longer exists. As Redcliff said in speaking of +her--and girls generally--all the gates are thrown wide open." + +The Duchess was very silent for a space before she made her reply. + +"Yes." + +"You do not know her mother?" + +"No." + +"Two weeks ago she gave me something to reflect on. Her feeling for her +daughter is that of a pretty cat-like woman for something enragingly +younger than herself. She always resented her. She was infuriated by +your interest in her. She said to me one afternoon, 'I hope the Duchess +is still pleased with her companion. I saw her to-day in Bond Street and +she looked like a housemaid I once had to dismiss rather suddenly. I am +glad she is in her grace's house and not in mine.'" + +After a few seconds-- + +"_I_ am glad she is in my house and not in hers," the Duchess said. + +"After I had spoken to her at some length and she had quite lost her +temper, she added 'You evidently don't know that she has been meeting +Donal Muir. He told me so himself at the Erwyn's. I asked him if he had +seen her since the dance and he owned that he had--and then was cross at +himself for making the slip. I did not ask him how _often_ he had met +her. He would not have told me. But if he met her once he met her as +often as he chose.' She was not lying when she said it. I know her. I +have been thinking constantly ever since." There was a brief silence +between them; then he proceeded. "Robin worshipped him when she was a +mere baby. They were very beautiful together on the night of the dance. +She fainted on the stairway after hearing of his death. She had been +crawling up to hide herself in her room, poor child! It is one of the +tragedies. Perhaps you and I together--" + +The Duchess was seeing again the two who had come forth shining from the +conservatory. She continued to see them as Lord Coombe went on speaking, +telling her what Dr. Redcliff had told him. + + * * * * * + +On her part Robin scarcely understood anything which was happening +because nothing seemed to matter. On the morning when the Duchess told +her that Dr. Redcliff wished to see her alone that fact mattered as +little as the rest. She was indifferently conscious that the Duchess +regarded her in an anxious kind way, but if she had been unkind instead +of kind that would have meant nothing. There was only room for one thing +in the world. She wondered sometimes if she were really dead--as Donal +was--and did not know she was so. Perhaps after people died they walked +about as she did and did not understand that others could not see them +and they were not alive. But if she were dead she would surely see +Donal. + +Before she went to Dr. Redcliff the Duchess took her hand and held it +closely in both her own. She looked at her with a curious sort of +pitifulness--as if she were sorry. + +"My poor child," she said. "Whatsoever he tells you don't be frightened. +Don't think you are without friends. I will take care of you." + +"Thank you," she said. "I don't think anything would frighten me. +Nothing seems frightening--now." After which she went into the room +where Dr. Redcliff was waiting for her. + + * * * * * + +The Duchess sat alone and thought deeply. What she thought of chiefly +was the Head of the House of Coombe. She had always known that more than +probably his attitude towards a circumstance of this sort would not even +remotely approach in likeness that of other people. His point of view +would detach itself from ordinary theories of moralities and +immoralities. He would see with singular clearness all sides of the +incident. He would not be indignant, or annoyed or embarrassed. He had +had an interest in Robin as a creature representing peculiar loveliness +and undefended potentialities. Sometimes she had felt that this had even +verged on a tenderness of which he was himself remotely, if at all, +conscious. Concerning the boy Donal she had realised that he felt +something stronger and deeper than any words of his own had at any time +expressed. He had believed fine things of him and had watched him +silently. He had wished he had been his own flesh and blood. Perhaps he +had always felt a longing for a son who might have been his companion as +well as his successor. Who knew whether a thwarted paternal instinct +might not now be giving him such thinking to do as he might have done if +Donal Muir had been the son of his body--dead on the battlefield but +leaving behind him something to be gravely considered? What would a man +think--what would a man _do_ under such circumstances? + +"One might imagine what some men would do--but it would depend entirely +upon the type," she thought. "What he will do will be different. It +might seem cold; it might be merely judicial--but it might be +surprising." + +She was quite haunted by the haggard look of his face as he had +exclaimed: + +"I wish to God I had known him better! I wish to God I had talked to him +more!" + +What he had done this morning was to go to Mersham Wood to see Mrs. +Bennett. There were things it might be possible to learn by amiable and +carefully considered expression of interest in her loss and loneliness. +Concerning such things as she did not already know she would learn +nothing from his conversation, but concerning such things as she had +become aware of he would learn everything without alarming her. + +"If those unhappy children met at her cottage and wandered about in +Mersham Wood together the tragedy is understandable." + +The Duchess' thinking ended pityingly because just at this time it was +that Robin opened the door and stood looking at her. + +It seemed as though Dr. Redcliff must have talked to her for a long +time. But she had on her small hat and coat and what the Duchess seemed +chiefly to see was the wide darkness of her eyes set in a face suddenly +pinched, small and snow white. She looked like a starved baby. + +"Please," she said with her hands clasped against her chest, +"please--may I go to Mersham Wood?" + +"To--Mersham Wood," the Duchess felt aghast--and then suddenly a flood +of thought rushed upon her. + +"It is not very far," the little gasping voice uttered. "I must go, +please! Oh! I must! Just--to Mersham Wood!" + +Something almost uncontrollable rose in the Duchess' throat. + +"Child," she said. "Come here!" + +Robin went to her--oh, poor little soul!--in utter obedience. As she +drew close to her she went down upon her knees holding up her hands like +a little nun at prayer. + +"_Please_ let me go," she said again. "Only to Mersham Wood." + +"Stay here, my poor child and talk to me," the Duchess said. "The time +has come when you must talk to some one." + +"When I come back--I will try. I--I want to ask--the Wood," said Robin. +She caught at a fold of the Duchess' dress and went on rapidly. + +"It is not far. Dr. Redcliff said I might go. Mrs. Bennett is there. She +loves me." + +"Are you going to talk to Mrs. Bennett?" + +"No! No! No! No! Not to any one in the world." + +Hapless young creatures in her plight must always be touching, but her +touchingness was indescribable--almost unendurable to the ripe aged +woman of the world who watched and heard her. It was as if she knew +nothing of the meaning of things--as if some little spirit had been torn +from heaven and flung down upon the dark earth. One felt that one must +weep aloud over the exquisite incomprehensible remoteness of her. And it +was so awfully plain that there was some tragic connection with the Wood +and that her whole soul cried out to it. And she would not speak to any +one in the world. Such things had been known. Was the child's brain +wavering? Why not? All the world was mad was the older woman's thought, +and she herself after all the years, had for this moment no sense of +balance and felt as if all old reasons for things had been swept away. + +"If you will come back," she said. "I will let you go." + +After the poor child had gone there formulated itself in her mind the +thought that if Lord Coombe and Mrs. Bennett met her together some +clarity might be reached. But then again she said to herself, "Oh why, +after all, should she be asked questions? What can it matter to the rest +of the woeful world if she hides it forever in her heart?" + +And she sat with drooped head knowing that she was tired of living +because some things were so helpless. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +The Wood was gradually growing darker. It had been almost brilliant +during a part of the afternoon because the bareness of the branches let +in the wintry sun. There were no leaves to keep it out and there had +been a rare, chill blue sky. All seemed cold blue sky where it was not +brown or sodden yellow fern and moss. The trunks of the trees looked +stark and the tall, slender white stems of the birches stood out here +and there among the darker growth like ghosts who were sentinels. It was +always a silent place and now its stillness seemed even added to by the +one sound which broke it--the sound of sobbing--sobbing--sobbing. + +It had been going on for some time. There had stolen through the narrow +trodden pathway a dark slight figure and this had dropped upon the +ground under a large tree which was one of a group whose branches had +made a few months ago a canopy of green where birds had built nests and +where one nightingale had sung night after night to the moon. + +Later--Robin had said to herself--she would go to the cottage, and she +would sit upon the hearth and lay her head on Mrs. Bennett's knee and +they would cling together and sob and talk of the battlefields and the +boys lying dead there. But she had no thought of saying any other thing +to her, because there was nothing left to say. She had said nothing to +Dr. Redcliff; she had only sat listening to him and feeling her eyes +widening as she tried to follow and understand what he was saying in +such a grave, low-toned cautious way--as if he himself were almost +afraid as he went on. What he said would once have been strange and +wonderful, but now it was not, because wonder had gone out of the +world. She only seemed to sit stunned before the feeling that now the +dream was not a sacred secret any longer and there grew within her, as +she heard, a wild longing to fly to the Wood as if it were a living +human thing who would hear her and understand--as if it would be like +arms enclosing her. Something would be there listening and she could +talk to it and ask it what to do. + +She had spoken to it as she staggered down the path--she had cried out +to it with wild broken words, and then when she heard nothing she had +fallen down upon the earth and the sobbing--sobbing--had begun. + +"Donal!" she said. "Donal!" And again, "Donal!" over and over. But +nothing answered, for even that which had been Donal--with the heavenly +laugh and the blue in his gay eyes and the fine, long smooth hands--had +been blown to fragments in a field somewhere--and there was nothing +anywhere. + + * * * * * + +She had heard no footsteps and she was sobbing still when a voice spoke +at her side--the voice of some one standing near. + +"It is Donal you want, poor child--no one else," it said. + +That it should be this voice--Lord Coombe's! And that amazing as it was +to hear it, she was not amazed and did not care! Her sobbing ceased so +far as sobbing can cease on full flow. She lay still but for low +shuddering breaths. + +"I have come because it is Donal," he said. "You told me once that you +had always hated me. Hatred is useless now. Don't feel it." + +But she did not answer. + +"You probably will not believe anything I say. Well I must speak to you +whether you believe me or not." + +She lay still and he himself was silent. His voice seemed to be a sudden +thing when he spoke. + +"I loved him too. I found it out the morning I saw him march away." + +He had seen him! Since she had looked at his beautiful face this man had +looked at it! + +"You!" She sat up on the earth and gazed, swaying. So he knew he could +go on. + +"I wanted a son. I once lay on the moss in a wood and sobbed as you have +sobbed. _She_ was killed too." + +But Robin was thinking only of Donal. + +"What--was his face like? Did you--see him near?" + +"Quite near. I stood on the street. I followed. He did not see me. He +saw nothing." + +The sobbing broke forth again. + +"Did--did his eyes look as if he had been crying? He did cry--he did!" + +The Head of the House of Coombe showed no muscular facial sign of +emotion and stood stiffly still. But what was this which leaped scalding +to his glazed eyes and felt hot? + +"Yes," he answered huskily. "I saw--even as he marched past--that his +eyes were heavy and had circles round them. There were other eyes like +his--some were boys' eyes and some were the eyes of men. They held their +heads up--but they had all said 'Good-bye'--as he had." + +The Wood echoed to a sound which was a heart-wrung wail and she dropped +forward on the moss again and lay there. + +"He said, 'Oh, let us cry--together--together! Oh little--lovely love'!" + +She who would have borne torment rather than betray the secret of the +dream, now that it could no longer be a secret lay reft of all but +memories and the wild longing to hold to her breast some shred which was +her own. He let her wail, but when her wailing ceased helplessly he bent +over her. + +"Listen to me," he said. "If Donal were here he would tell you to +listen. You are a child. You are too young to know what has come upon +you--both." + +She did not speak. + +"You were both too young--and you were driven by fate. If he had been +more than a boy--and if he had not been in a frenzy--he would have +remembered. He would have thought--" + +Yes--yes! She knew how young! But oh, what mattered youth--or +thought--or remembering! Her small hand beat in soft impatience on the +ground. + +He was--strangely--on one knee beside her, his head bent close, and in +his voice there was a new strong insistence--as if he would not let her +alone-- Oh! Donal! Donal! + +"He would have remembered--that he might leave a child!" + +His voice was almost hard. She did not know that in his mind was a +memory which now in secret broke him--a memory of a belief which was a +thing he had held as a gift--a certain faith in a clear young highness +and strength of body and soul in this one scion of his house, which even +in youth's madness would have _remembered_. If the lad had been his own +son he might have felt something of the same pang. + +His words brought back what she had heard Redcliff say to her earlier in +the day--the thing which had only struck her again to the earth. + +"It--will have--no father," she shuddered. "There is not even a grave." + +He put his hand on her shoulder--he even tried to force her to lift her +head. + +"It _must_ have a father," he said, harshly. "Look at me. It _must_." + +Stupefied and lost to all things as she was, she heard something in his +harshness she could not understand and was startled by. Her small +starved face stared at him piteously. There was no one but herself left +in the world. + +"There is no time--" he broke forth. + +"He said so too," she cried out. "There was no time!" + +"But he should have remembered," the harsh voice revealed more than he +knew. "He could have given his child all that life holds that men call +happiness. How could even a lad forget! He loved you--you loved him. If +he had married you--" + +He stopped in the midst of the words. The little starved face stared at +him with a kind of awfulness of woe. She spoke as if she scarcely knew +the words she uttered, and not, he saw, in the least as if she were +defending herself--or as if she cared whether he believed her or not--or +as if it mattered. + +"Did you--think we were--not married?" the words dragged out. + +Something turned over in his side. He had heard it said that hearts did +such things. It turned--because she did not care. She knew what love and +death were--what they _were_--not merely what they were called--and life +and shame and loss meant nothing. + +"Do you know what you are saying?" he heard the harshness of his voice +break. "For God's sake, child, let me hear the truth." + +She did not even care then and only put her childish elbows on her knees +and her face in her hands and wept and wept. + +"There was--no time," she said. "Every day he said it. He knew--he +_knew_. Before he was killed he wanted _something_ that was his own. It +was our secret. I wanted to keep it his secret till I died." + +"Where," he spoke low and tensely, "were you married?" + +"I do not know. It was a little house in a poor crowded street. Donal +took me. Suddenly we were frightened because we thought he was to go +away in three days. A young chaplain who was going away too was his +friend. He had just been married himself. He did it because he was sorry +for us. There was no time. His wife lent me a ring. They were young too +and they were sorry." + +"What was the man's name?" + +"I can't remember. I was trembling all the time. I knew nothing. That +was like a dream too. It was all a dream." + +"You do not remember?" he persisted. "You were married--and have no +proof." + +"We came away so quickly. Donal held me in his arm in the cab because I +trembled. Donal knew. Donal knew everything." + +He was a man who had lived through tragedy but that had been long ago. +Since then he had only known the things of the world. He had seen +struggles and tricks and paltry craftiness. He had known of women caught +in traps of folly and passion and weakness and had learned how terror +taught them to lie and shift and even show abnormal cleverness. Above +all he knew exactly what the world would say if a poor wretch of a girl +told a story like this of a youngster like Donal--when he was no longer +on earth to refute it. + +And yet if these wild things were true, here in a wintry wood she sat a +desolate and undefended thing--with but one thought. And in that which +was most remote in his being he was conscious that he was for the moment +relieved because even worldly wisdom was not strong enough to overcome +his desire to believe in a certain thing which was--that the boy would +have played fair even when his brain whirled and all his fierce youth +beset him. + +As he regarded her he saw that it would be difficult to reach her mind +which was so torn and stunned. But by some method he must reach it. + +"You must answer all the questions I ask," he said. "It is for Donal's +sake." + +She did not lift her face and made no protest. + +He began to ask such questions as a sane man would know must be answered +clearly and as he heard her reply to each he gradually reached the +realisation of what her empty-handed, naked helplessness confronted. +That he himself comprehended what no outsider would, was due to his +memories of heart-wrung hours, of days and nights when he too had been +unable to think quite sanely or to reason with a normal brain. Youth is +a remorseless master. He could see the tempest of it all--the hours of +heaven--and the glimpses of hell's self--on whose brink the two had +stood clinging breast to breast. With subtle carefulness he slowly +gleaned it all. He followed the rising of the tide which at first had +borne them along unquestioning. They had not even asked where they were +going because the way led through young paradise. Then terror had +awakened them. There had come to them the news of death day after +day--lads they knew and had seen laughing a few weeks before--Halwyn, +Meredith, Jack or Harry or Phil. A false rumour of a sudden order to the +Front and they had stood and gazed into each other's eyes in a fateful +hour. Robin did not know of the picture her disjointed, sobbed-forth +sentences and words made clear. Coombe could see the lad as he stood +before her in this very Wood and then went slowly down upon his knees +and kissed her small feet in the moss as he made his prayer. There had +been something rarely beautiful in the ecstasy of his tenderness--and +she had given herself as a flower gives itself to be gathered. She +seemed to have seen nothing, noted nothing, on the morning of the mad +marriage, but Donal, who held her trembling in his arms as they drove +through the crowded streets in the shabby neighbourhood she had never +seen before, to the house crowded between others all like itself. She +had actually not heard the young chaplain's name in her shyness and +tremor. He would scarcely have been an entity but for the one moving +fact that he himself had just hastily married a girl he adored and must +leave, and so sympathised and understood the stress of their hour. On +their way home they had been afraid of chance recognition and had tried +to shield themselves by sitting as far back as possible in the cab. + +"I could not think. I could not see. It was all frightening--and +unreal." + +She had not dreamed of asking questions. Donal had taken care of her and +tried to help her to be less afraid of seeing people who might recognise +her. She had tilted her hat over her face and worn a veil. She had gone +home to Eaton Square--and then in the afternoon to the cottage at +Mersham Wood. + +They had not written letters to each other. Robin had been afraid and +they had met almost every day. Once Lord Coombe thought himself on the +track of some clue when she touched vaguely on some paper Donal had +meant to send her and had perhaps forgotten in the haste and pressure of +the last few hours because his orders had been so sudden. But there was +no trace. There had been something he wished her to have. But if this +had meant that his brain had by chance cleared to sane reasoning and he +had, for a few moments touched earth and intended to send her some proof +which would be protection if she needed it--the moment had been too late +and, at the last, action had proved impossible. And Death had come so +soon. It was as though a tornado had swept him out of her arms and +dashed him broken to earth. And she was left with nothing because she +asked nothing--wanted nothing. + +The obviousness of this, when he had ended his questioning and exhausted +his resources, was a staggering thing. + +"Do you know," he said grimly, after it was all over, "--that no one +will believe you?" + +"Donal knew," she said. "There is no one--no one else." + +"You mean that there is no one whose belief or disbelief would affect +you?" + +The Wood was growing darker still and she had ceased crying and sat +still like a small ghost in the dim light. + +"There never _was_ any one but Donal, you know," she said. To all the +rest of the world she was as a creature utterly unawake and to a man who +was of the world and who had lived a long life in it the contemplation +of her was a strange and baffling thing. + +"You do not ask whether _I_ believe you?" he spoke quite low. + +The silence of the darkening wood was unearthly and her dropped word +scarcely stirred it. + +"No." She had never even thought of it. + +He himself was inwardly shaken by his own feeling. + +"I will believe you if--you will believe me," was what he said, a +singular sharp new desire impelling him. + +She merely lifted her face a little so that her eyes rested upon him. + +"Because of this tragic thing you must believe me. It will be necessary +that you should. What you have thought of me with regard to your mother +is not true. You believed it because the world did. Denial on my part +would merely have called forth laughter. Why not? When a man who has +money and power takes charge of a pretty, penniless woman and pays her +bills, the pose of Joseph or Galahad is not a good one for him. My +statement would no more have been believed than yours will be believed +if you can produce no proof. What you say is what any girl might say in +your dilemma, what I should have said would have been what any man might +have said. But--I believe you. Do you believe _me_?" + +She did not understand why suddenly--though languidly--she knew that he +was telling her a thing which was true. It was no longer of consequence +but she knew it. And if it was true all she had hated him for so long +had been founded on nothing. He had not been bad--he had only _looked_ +bad and that he could not help. But what did that matter, either? She +could not feel even sorry. + +"I will--try," she answered. + +It was no use as yet, he saw. What he was trying to deal with was in a +new Dimension. + +He held out his hands and helped her to her feet. + +"The Wood is growing very dark," he said. "We must go. I will take you +to Mrs. Bennett's and you can spend the night with her." + +The Wood was growing dark indeed. He was obliged to guide her through +the closeness of the undergrowth. They threaded their way along the +narrow path and the shadows seemed to close in behind them. Before they +reached the end which would have led them out into the open he put his +hand on her shoulder and held her back. + +"In this Wood--even now--there is Something which must be saved from +suffering. It is helpless--it is blameless. It is not you--it is not +Donal. God help it." + +He spoke steadily but strangely and his voice was so low that it was +almost a whisper--though it was not one. For the first time she felt +something stir in her stunned mind--as if thought were wakening--fear--a +vague quaking. Her wan small face began to wonder and in the dark +roundness of her eyes a question was to be seen like a drowned thing +slowly rising from the deeps of a pool. But she asked no question. She +only waited a few moments and let him look at her until she said at last +in a voice as near a whisper as his own. + +"I--will believe you." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +He was alone with the Duchess. The doors were closed, and the world shut +out by her own order. She leaned against the high back of her chair, +watching him intently as she listened. He walked slowly up and down the +room with long paces. He had been doing it for some time and he had told +her from beginning to end the singular story of what had happened when +he found Robin lying face downward on the moss in Mersham Wood. + +This is what he was saying in a low, steady voice. + +"She had not once thought of what most women would have thought of +before anything else. If I were speaking to another person than yourself +I should say that she was too ignorant of the world. To you I will say +that she is not merely a girl--she is the unearthly luckless embodiment +of the pure spirit of Love. She knew only worship and the rapt giving of +gifts. Her unearthliness made him forget earth himself. Folly and +madness of course! Incredible madness--it would seem to most people--a +decently intelligent lad losing his head wholly and not regaining his +senses until it was too late to act sanely. But perhaps not quite +incredible to you and me. There must have been days which seemed to +him--and lads like him--like the last hours of a condemned man. In the +midst of love and terror and the agony of farewells--what time was there +for sanity?" + +"You _believe_ her?" the Duchess said. + +"Yes," impersonally. "In spite of the world, the flesh and the devil. I +also know that no one else will. To most people her story will seem a +thing trumped up out of a fourth rate novel. The law will not listen to +it. You will--when you see her unawakened face." + +"I have seen it," was the Duchess' interpolation. "I saw it when she +went upon her knees and prayed that I would let her go to Mersham Wood. +There was something inexplicable in her remoteness from fear and shame. +She was only woe's self. I did not comprehend. I was merely a baffled +old woman of the world. Now I begin to see. I believe her as you do. The +world and the law will laugh at us because we have none of the accepted +reasons for our belief. But I believe her as you do--absurd as it will +seem to others." + +"Yes, it will seem absurd," Coombe said slowly pacing. "But here she +is--and here _we_ are!" + +"What do you see before us?" she asked of his deep thought. + +"I see a helpless girl in a dark plight. As far as knowledge of how to +defend herself goes, she is as powerless as a child fresh from a +nursery. She lives among people with observing eyes already noting the +change in her piteous face. Her place in your house makes her a centre +of attention. The observation of her beauty and happiness has been +good-natured so far. The observation will continue, but in time its +character will change. I see that before anything else." + +"It is the first thing to be considered," she answered. + +"The next--" she paused and thought seriously, "is her mother. Perhaps +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless has sharp eyes. She said to you something rather +vulgarly hideous about being glad her daughter was in my house and not +in hers." + +"Her last words to Robin were to warn her not to come to her for refuge +'if she got herself into a mess.' She is in what Mrs. Gareth-Lawless +would call 'a mess.'" + +"It is what a good many people would call it," the Duchess said. "And +she does not even know that her tragedy would express itself in a mere +vulgar colloquialism with a modern snigger in it. Presently, poor child, +when she awakens a little more she will begin to go about looking like a +little saint. Do you see that--as I do?" + +She thought he did and that he was moved by it though he did not say so. + +"I am thinking first of her mother. Mrs. Gareth-Lawless must see and +hear nothing. She is not a criminal or malignant creature, but her light +malice is capable of playing flimsily with any atrocity. She has not +brain enough to know that she can be atrocious. Robin can be protected +only if she is shut out of the whole affair. She was simply speaking the +truth when she warned the girl not to come to her in case of need." + +"For a little longer I can keep her here," the Duchess said. "As she +looks ill it will not be unnatural that the doctor should advise me to +send her away from London. It is not possible to remember anything long +in the life we live now. She will be forgotten in a week. That part of +it will be simple." + +"Yes," he answered. "Yes." + +He paced the length of the room twice--three times and said nothing. She +watched him as he walked and she knew he was going to say more. She also +wondered what curious thing it might be. She had said to herself that +what he said and did would be entirely detached from ordinary or archaic +views. Also she had guessed that it might be extraordinary--perhaps as +extraordinary as his long intimacy with Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. Was there a +possibility that he was going to express himself now? + +"But that is not all," he said at last and he ended his pondering walk +by coming nearer to her. He sat down and touched the newspapers lying on +the table. + +"You have been poring over these," he said, "and I have been doing the +same thing. I have also been talking to the people who know things and +to those who ought to know them but don't. Just now the news is worse +each day. In the midst of the roar and thunder of cataclysms to talk +about a mere girl 'in trouble' appears disproportionate. But because our +world seems crumbling to pieces about us she assumes proportions of her +own. I was born of the old obstinate passions of belief in certain +established things and in their way they have had their will of me. +Lately it has forced itself upon me that I am not as modern as I have +professed to be. The new life has gripped me, but the old has not let me +go. There are things I cannot bear to see lost forever without a +struggle." + +"Such as--" she said it very low. + +"I conceal things from myself," he answered, "but they rise and confront +me. There were days when we at least believed--quite obstinately--in a +number of things." + +"Sometimes quite heroically," she admitted. "'God Save the Queen' in its +long day had actual glow and passion. I have thrilled and glowed myself +at the shouting song of it." + +"Yes," he drew a little nearer to her and his cold face gained a slight +colour. "In those days when a son--or a grandson--was born to the head +of a house it was a serious and impressive affair." + +"Yes." And he knew she at once recalled her own son--and George in +Flanders. + +"It meant new generations, and generations counted for decent dignity as +well as power. A farmer would say with huge pride, 'Me and mine have +worked the place for four generations,' as he would say of the owner of +the land, 'Him and his have held it for six centuries.' Centuries and +generations are in danger of no longer inspiring special reverence. It +is the future and the things to be which count." + +"The things to be--yes," the Duchess said and knew that he was drawing +near the thing he had to say. + +"I suppose I was born a dogged sort of devil," he went on almost in a +monotone. "The fact did not manifest itself to me until I came to the +time when--all the rest of me dropped into a bottomless gulf. That +perhaps describes it. I found myself suddenly standing on the edge of +it. And youth, and future, and belief in the use of hoping and real +enjoyment of things dropped into the blackness and were gone while I +looked on. If I had not been born a dogged devil I should have blown my +brains out. If I had been born gentler or kinder or more patient I +should perhaps have lived it down and found there was something left. A +man's way of facing things depends upon the kind of thing he was born. I +went on living _without_--the rest of myself. I closed my mouth and not +only my mouth but my life--as far as other men and women were concerned. +When I found an interest stirring in me I shut another door--that was +all. Whatsoever went on did it behind a shut door." + +"But there were things which went on?" the Duchess gently suggested. + +"In a hidden way--yes. That is what I am coming to. When I first saw +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless sitting under her tree--" He suddenly stopped. "No," +harshly, "I need not put it into words to _you_." Then a pause as if for +breath. "She had a way of lifting her eyes as a very young angel +might--she had a quivering spirit of a smile--and soft, deep curled +corners to her mouth. You saw the same things in the old photograph you +bought. The likeness was--Oh! it was hellish that such a resemblance +could be! In less than half an hour after she spoke to me I had shut +another door. But I was obliged to go and _look_ at her again and again. +The resemblance drew me. By the time her husband died I knew her well +enough to be sure what would happen. Some man would pick her up and +throw her aside--and then some one else. She could have held nothing +long. She would have passed from one hand to another until she was +tossed into the gutter and swept away--quivering spirit of a smile and +all of it. I could not have shut any door on that. I prevented it--and +kept her clean--by shutting doors right and left. I have watched over +her. At times it has bored me frightfully. But after a year or +so--behind another door I had shut the child." + +"Robin? I had sometimes thought so," said the Duchess. + +"I did not know why exactly. It was not affection or attraction. It was +a sort of resentment of the beastly unfairness of things. The bottomless +gulf seemed to yawn in her path when she was nothing but a baby. +Everything was being tossed into it before she had taken a step. I began +to keep an eye on her and prevent things--or assist them. It was more +fury than benevolence, but it has gone on for years--behind the shut +door." + +"Are you quite sure you have been entirely free from all affection for +her?" The Duchess asked the question impersonally though with a degree +of interest. + +"I think so. I am less sure that I have the power to feel what is called +'affection' for any one. I think that I have felt something nearer it +for Donal--and for you--than for any one else. But when the child talked +to me in the wood I felt for the first time that I wished her to know +that my relation to her mother was not the reason for her hating me +which she had believed." + +"She shall be made to understand," said the Duchess. + +"She must," he said, "_because of the rest_." + +The last four words were, as it were, italicised. Now, she felt, she was +probably about to hear the chief thing he had been approaching. So she +waited attentively. + +"Behind a door has been shut another thing," he said and he endeavoured +to say it with his usual detached rigidity of calm, but did not wholly +succeed. "It is the outcome of the generations and the centuries at +present diminishing in value and dignity. The past having had its will +of me and the present and future having gripped me--if I had had a +son--" + +As if in a flash she saw as he lingered on the words that he was +speaking of a thing of which he had secretly thought often and much, +though he had allowed no human being to suspect it. She had not +suspected it herself. In a secretive, intense way he had passionately +desired a son. + +"If you had had a son--" she repeated. + +"He would have stood for both--the past and the future--at the +beginning of a New World," he ended. + +He said it with such deliberate meaning that the magnitude of his +possible significance caused her to draw a sudden breath. + +"Is it going to be a New World?" she said. + +"It cannot be the old one. I don't take it upon myself to describe the +kind of world it will be. That will depend upon the men and women who +build it. Those who were born during the last few years--those who are +about to be born now." + +Then she knew what he was thinking of. + +"Donal's child will be one of them," she said. + +"The Head of the House of Coombe--if there is a Head who starts +fair--ought to have quite a lot to say--and do. Howsoever black things +look," obstinately fierce, "England is not done for. At the worst no +real Englishman believes she can be. She _can't_! You know the old +saying, 'In all wars England loses battles, but she always wins one--the +last one.' She always will. Afterwards she must do her bit for the New +World." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +This then was it--the New World and the human creatures who were to +build it, the unborn as well as those now in their cradles or tottering +in their first step on the pathway leading to the place of building. Yet +he himself had no thought of there being any touch of heroic splendour +in his way of looking at it. He was not capable of drama. Behind his +shut doors of immovability and stiff coldness, behind his cynic habit of +treating all things with detached lightness, the generations and the +centuries had continued their work in spite of his modernity. His +British obstinacy would not relinquish the long past he and his had +seemed to _own_ in representing it. He had loved one woman, and one +only--with a love like a deep wound; he had longed for a son; he had +stubbornly undertaken to protect a creature he felt life had treated +unfairly. The shattering of the old world had stirred in him a powerful +interest in the future of the new one whose foundations were yet to be +laid. The combination of these things might lead to curious +developments. + +They sat and talked long and the developments were perhaps more unusual +than she had imagined they might be. + +"If I had been able to express the something which approached affection +which I felt for Donal, he would have found out that my limitations were +not deliberately evil proclivities," was one of the things he said. "One +day he would have ended by making a clean breast of it. He was afraid of +me. I suspect he was afraid of his mother--fond as they were of each +other. I should have taken the matter in hand and married the pair of +them at once--quietly if they preferred it, but safely and sanely. God +knows I should have comprehended their wish to keep a roaring world out +of their paradise. It _was_ paradise!" + +"How you believe her!" she exclaimed. + +"She is not a trivial thing, neither was he. If I did _not_ believe her +I should know that he _meant_ to marry her, even if fate played them +some ghastly trick and there was not time. Another girl's consciousness +of herself might have saved her, but she had no consciousness but his. +If--if a son is born he should be what his father would have been after +my death." + +"The Head of the House," the Duchess said. + +"It is a curious thing," he deliberated, "that now there remains no +possible head but what is left of myself--it ceases to seem the mere +pompous phrase one laughed at--the Head of the House of Coombe. Here I, +of all men, sit before you glaring into the empty future and demanding +one. There ought to have been more males in the family. Only four were +killed--and we are done for." + +"If you had seen them married before he went away--" she began. + +He rose to his feet as if involuntarily. He looked as she had never seen +him look before. + +"Allow me to make a fantastic confession to you," he said. "It will open +doors. If all were as the law foolishly demands it should be--if she +were safe in the ordinary way--absurdly incredible or not as the +statement may seem--I should now be at her feet." + +"At her feet!" she said slowly, because she felt herself facing actual +revelation. + +"Her child would be to me the child of the son who ought to have been +born to me a life time ago. God, how I have wanted him! Robin would seem +to be what another Madonna-like young creature might have been if she +had been my wife. She would not know that she was a little saint on an +altar. She would be the shrine of the past and the future. In my +inexpressive way I should be worshipping before her. That her possible +son would rescue the House of Coombe from extinction would have meant +much, but it would be a mere detail. Now you understand." + +Yes. She understood. Things she had never comprehended and had not +expected to comprehend explained themselves with comparative clearness. +He proceeded with a certain hard distinctness. + +"The thing which grips me most strongly is that this one--who is one of +those who have work before them--shall not be handicapped. He shall not +begin life manacled and shamed by illegitimacy. He shall begin it with +the background of all his father meant to give him. The law of England +will not believe in his claims unless they can be proven. She can prove +nothing. I can prove nothing for her. If she had been a little female +costermonger she would have demanded her 'marriage lines' and clung to +them fiercely. She would have known that to be able to flaunt them in +the face of argument was indispensable." + +"She probably did not know that there existed such documents," the +Duchess said. "Neither of the pair knew anything for the time but that +they were wild with love and were to be torn apart." + +"Therefore," he said with distinctness even clearer and harder, "she +must possess indisputable documentary evidence of marriage before the +child is born--as soon as possible." + +"Marriage!" she hesitated aghast. "But _who_ will--?" + +"I," he answered with absolute rigidity. "It will be difficult. It must +be secret. But if it can be done--when his time comes the child can look +his new world in the face. He will be the Head of the House of Coombe +when it most needs a strong fellow who has no cause to fear anything and +who holds money and power in his hands." + +"You propose to suggest that she shall marry _you_?" she put it to him. + +"Yes. It will be the devil's own job," he answered. "She has not begun +to think of the child yet--and she has abhorred me all her life. To her +the world means nothing. She does not know what it can do to her and she +would not care if she did. Donal was her world and he is gone. But you +and I know what she does not." + +"So this is what you have been thinking?" she said. It was indeed an +unarchaic point of view. But even as she heard him she realised that it +was the almost inevitable outcome--not only of what was at the moment +happening to the threatened and threatening world, but of his singularly +secretive past--of all the things he had hidden and also of all the +things he had professed not to hide but had baffled people with. + +"Since the morning Redcliff dropped his bomb I have not been able to +think of much else," he said. "It was a bomb, I own. Neither you nor I +had reason for a shadow of suspicion. My mind has a trick of dragging +back to me a memory of a village girl who was left as--as she is. She +said her lover had married her--but he went away and never came back. +The village she lived in was a few miles from Coombe Keep and she gave +birth to a boy. His childhood must have been a sort of hell. When other +boys had rows with him they used to shout 'Bastard' after him in the +street. He had a shifty, sickened look and when he died of measles at +seven years old no doubt he was glad of it. He used to run crying to his +wretched mother and hide his miserable head in her apron." + +"It sounds unendurable," the Duchess said sharply. + +"I can defy the world as she cannot," he said with dangerous calm. "I +can provide money for her. She may be hidden away. But only one thing +will save her child--Donal's child--from being a sort of outcast and +losing all he should possess--a quick and quiet marriage which will put +all doubt out of the question." + +"And you know perfectly well what the general opinion will be with +regard to yourself?" + +"Damned well. A debauched old degenerate marrying the daughter of his +mistress because her eighteen years attracts his vicious decrepitude. My +absolute indifference to that, may I say, can not easily be formulated. +_She_ shall be spared as much as possible. The thing can be kept secret +for years. She can live in entire seclusion. No one need be told until I +am dead--or until it is necessary for the boy's sake. By that time +perhaps changes in opinion will have taken place. But now--as is the cry +of the hour--there is no time. She said that Donal said it too." He +stood still for a few moments and looked at the floor. "But as I said," +he terminated, "it will be the devil's own job. When I first speak to +her about it--she will almost be driven mad." + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Robin had spent the night at the cottage and Mrs. Bennett had been very +good to her. They had sat by the fire together for a long time and had +talked of the dead boys on the battlefield, while Robin's head had +rested against the old fairy woman's knee and the shrivelled hand had +stroked and patted her tremulously. It had been nearing dawn when the +girl went to bed and at the last Mrs. Bennett had held on to her dress +and asked her a pleading question. + +"Isn't there anything you'd like me to do for you--anything on earth, +Miss, dear? Sometimes there's things an old woman can do that young ones +can't. If there was anything you'd like to tell me about--that I could +keep private--? It'd be as safe with me as if I was a dumb woman. And it +might just happen that--me being so old--I might be a help some way." +She was giving her her chance, as in the course of her long life she had +given it to other poor girls she loved less. One had to make ways and +open gates for them. + +But Robin only kissed her as lovingly as a child. + +"I don't know what is going to happen to me," she said. "I can't think +yet. I may want to ask you to let me come here--if--if I am frightened +and don't know what to do. I know you would let me come and--talk to +you--?" + +The old fairy woman almost clutched her in enfolding arms. Her answer +was a hoarse and trembling whisper. + +"You come to me, my poor pretty," she said. "You come to me day or +night--_whatsoever_. I'm not so old but what I can do anything--you want +done." + +The railroad journey back to London seemed unnaturally long because her +brain began to work when she found herself half blindly gazing at the +country swiftly flying past the carriage window. Perhaps the anxiousness +in Mrs. Bennett's face had wakened thought in connecting itself with +Lord Coombe's words and looks in the wood. + +When the door of the house in Eaton Square opened for her she was +conscious of shrinking from the sympathetic eyes of the war-substituted +woman-servant who was the one who had found her lying on the landing. +She knew that her face was white and that her eyelids were stained and +heavy and that the woman saw them and was sorry for her. + +The mountain climb of the stairs seemed long and steep but she reached +her room at last and took off her hat and coat and put on her house +dress. She did it automatically as if she were going downstairs to her +work, as though there had been no break in the order of her living. + +But as she was fastening the little hooks and buttons her stunned brain +went on with the thought to which it had begun to awaken in the train. +Since the hour when she had fallen unconscious on the landing she had +not seemed to think at all. She had only _felt_ things which had nothing +to do with the real world. + +There was a fire in the grate and when the last button was fastened she +sat down on a seat before it and looked into the redness of the coals, +her hands loosely clasped on her knee. She sat there for several minutes +and then she turned her head and looked slowly round the room. She did +it because she was impelled by a sense of its emptiness--by the fact +that she was quite alone in it. There was only herself--only Robin in +it. + +That was her first feeling--the aloneness--and then she thought of +something else. She seemed to feel again the hand of Lord Coombe on her +shoulder when he held her back in the darkened wood and she could hear +his almost whispered words. + +"In this Wood--even now--there is Something which must be saved from +suffering. It is helpless--it is blameless. It is not you--it is not +Donal--God help it." + +Then she was not alone--even as she sat in the emptiness of the room. +She put up her hands and covered her face with them. + +"What--will happen?" she murmured. But she did not cry. + +The deadliness of the blow which had stupefied her still left her barely +conscious of earthly significances. But something of the dark mistiness +was beginning to lift slowly and reveal to her vague shadows and shapes, +as it were. If no one would believe that she was married to Donal, then +people would think that she had been the kind of girl who is sent away +from decent houses, if she is a servant, and cut off in awful disgrace +from her family and never spoken to again, if she belongs to the upper +classes. Books and Benevolent Societies speak of her as "fallen" and +"lost." Her vision of such things was at once vague and primitive. It +took the form of pathetic fictional figures or memories of some hushed +rumour heard by mere chance, rather than of anything more realistic. She +dropped her hands upon her lap and looked at the fire again. + +"Now I shall be like that," she said listlessly. "And it does not +matter. Donal knew. And I do not care--I do not care." + +"The Duchess will send me away," she whispered next. "Perhaps she will +send me away to-day. Where shall I go!" The hands on her lap began to +tremble and she suddenly felt cold in spite of the fire. The sound of a +knock on the door made her start to her feet. The woman who had looked +sorry for her when she came in had brought a message. + +"Her grace wishes to see you, Miss," she said. + +"Thank you," Robin answered. + +After the servant had gone away she stood still a moment or so. + +"Perhaps she is going to tell me now," she said to the empty room. + + * * * * * + +Two aspects of her face rose before the Duchess as the girl entered the +room where she waited for her with Lord Coombe. One was that which had +met her glance when Mademoiselle Vallé had brought her charge on her +first visit. She recalled her impression of the childlikeness which +seemed all the dark dew of appealing eyes, which were like a young doe's +or a bird's rather than a girl's. The other was the star-like radiance +of joy which had swept down the ballroom in Donal's arms with dancing +whirls and swayings and pretty swoops. About them had laughed and +swirled the boys now lying dead under the heavy earth of Flemish fields. +And Donal--! + +This face looked small and almost thin and younger than ever. The eyes +were like those of a doe who was lost and frightened--as if it heard +quite near it the baying of hounds, but knew it could not get away. + +She hesitated a moment at the door. + +"Come here, my dear," the Duchess said. + +Lord Coombe stood by a chair he had evidently placed for her, but she +did not sit down when she reached it. She hesitated again and looked +from one to the other. + +"Did you send for me to tell me I must go away?" she said. + +"What do you mean, child?" said the Duchess. + +"Sit down," Lord Coombe said and spoke in an undertone rapidly. "She +thinks you mean to turn her out of the house as if she were a +kitchen-maid." + +Robin sat down with her listless small hands clasped in her lap. + +"Nothing matters at all," she said, "but I don't know what to do." + +"There is a great deal to do," the Duchess said to her and she did not +speak as if she were angry. Her expression was not an angry one. She +looked as if she were wondering at something and the wondering was +almost tender. + +"We know what to do. But it must be done without delay," said Lord +Coombe and his voice reminded her of Mersham Wood. + +"Come nearer to me. Come quite close. I want--" the Duchess did not +explain what she wanted but she pointed to a small square ottoman which +would place Robin almost at her knee. Her own early training had been of +the statelier Victorian type and it was not easy for her to deal freely +with outward expression of emotion. And here emotion sprang at her +throat, so to speak, as she watched this childish thing with the +frightened doe's eyes. The girl had been an inmate of her house for +months; she had been kind to her and had become fond of her, but they +had never reached even the borders of intimacy. + +And yet emotion had seized upon her and they were in the midst of +strange and powerful drama. + +Robin did as she was told. It struck the Duchess that she always did as +she was told and she spoke to her hoping that her voice was not +ungentle. + +"Don't look at me as if you were afraid. We are going to take care of +you," she said. + +But the doe's eyes were still great with hopeless fearfulness. + +"Lord Coombe said--that no one would believe me," Robin faltered. "He +thought I was not married to Donal. But I was--I was. I _wanted_ to be +married to him. I wanted to do everything he wanted me to do. We loved +each other so much. And we were afraid every one would be angry. And so +many were killed every day--and before he was killed--Oh!" with a sharp +little cry, "I am glad--I am glad! Whatever happens to me I am _glad_ I +was married to him before he was killed!" + +"You poor children!" broke from the Duchess. "You poor--poor mad young +things!" and she put an arm about Robin because the barrier built by +lack of intimacy was wholly overthrown. + +Robin trembled all over and looked up in her face. + +"I may begin to cry," she quavered. "I do not want to trouble you by +beginning to cry. I must not." + +"Cry if you want to cry," the Duchess answered. + +"It will be better," said Lord Coombe, "if you can keep calm. It is +necessary that you should be calm enough to think--and understand. Will +you try? It is for Donal's sake." + +"I will try," she answered, but her amazed eyes still yearningly +wondered at the Duchess. Her arm had felt almost like Dowie's. + +"Which of us shall begin to explain to her?" the Duchess questioned. + +"Will you? It may be better." + +They were going to take care of her. She was not to be turned into the +street--though perhaps if she were turned into the street without money +she would die somewhere--and that would not matter because she would be +thankful. + +The Duchess took one of her hands and held it on her knee. She looked +kind still but she was grave. + +"Do not be frightened when I tell you that most people will _not_ +believe what you say about your marriage," she said. "That is because it +is too much like the stories other girls have told when they were in +trouble. It is an easy story to tell when a man is dead. And in Donal's +case so much is involved that the law would demand proofs which could +not be denied. Donal not only owned the estate of Braemarnie, but he +would have been the next Marquis of Coombe. You have not remembered this +and--" more slowly and with a certain watchful care--"you have been too +unhappy and ill--you have not had time to realise that if Donal has a +son--" + +She heard Robin's caught breath. + +"What his father would have inherited he would inherit also. Braemarnie +would be his and in his turn he would be the Marquis of Coombe. It is +because of these important things that it would be said that it would be +immensely to your interest to insist that you were married to Donal Muir +and the law would not allow of any shade of doubt." + +"People would think I wanted the money and the castles--for myself?" +Robin said blankly. + +"They would think that if you were a dishonest woman--you wanted all you +could get. Even if you were not actually dishonest they would see you +would want it for your son. You might think it ought to be his--whether +his father had married you or not. Most women love their children." + +Robin sat very still. The stunned brain was slowly working for itself. + +"A child whose mother seems bad--is very lonely," she said. + +"It is not likely to have many friends." + +"It seems to belong to no one. It _must_ be unhappy. If--Donal's mother +had not been married--even he would have been unhappy." + +No one made any reply. + +"If he had been poor it would have made it even worse. If he had +belonged to nobody and had been poor too--! How could he have borne it!" + +Lord Coombe took the matter up gently, as it were removing it from the +Duchess' hands. + +"But he had everything he wished for from his birth," he said. "He was +always happy. I like to remember the look in his eyes. Thank God for +it!" + +"That beautiful look!" she cried. "That beautiful laughing look--as if +all the world were joyful!" + +"Thank God for it," Coombe said again. "I once knew a wretched village +boy who had no legal father though his mother swore she had been +married. His eyes looked like a hunted ferret's. It was through being +shamed and flouted and bullied. The village lads used to shout 'Bastard' +after him." + +It was then that the baying of the hounds suddenly seemed at hand. The +large eyes quailed before the stark emptiness of the space they gazed +into. + +"What shall I do--what shall I do?" Robin said and having said it she +did not know that she turned to Lord Coombe. + +"You must try to do what we tell you to do--even if you do not wish to +do it," he said. "It shall be made as little difficult for you as is +possible." + +The expression of the Duchess as she looked on and heard was a changing +one because her mind included so many aspects of the singular situation. +She had thought it not unlikely that he would do something unusual. +Could anything much more unusual have been provided than that a man, who +had absolute splendour of rank and wealth to offer, should for strange +reasons of his own use the tact of courts and the fine astuteness of +diplomatists in preparing the way to offer marriage to a penniless, +friendless and disgraced young "companion" in what is known as +"trouble"? It was because he was himself that he understood what he was +dealing with--that splendour and safety would hold no lure, that +protection from disgrace counted as nothing, that only one thing had +existence and meaning for her. And even as this passed through her mind, +Robin's answer repeated it. + +"I will do it whether it is difficult or not," she said, "but--" she +actually got up from her ottoman with a quiet soft movement and stood +before them--not a defiant young figure, only simple and elementally +sweet-- "I am not ashamed," she said. "I am not ashamed and _I_ do not +matter at all." + +There was that instant written upon Coombe's face--so far at least as +his old friend was concerned--his response to the significance of this. +It was the elemental thing which that which moved him required; it was +what the generations and centuries of the house of Coombe required--a +primitive creature unashamed and with no cowardice or weak vanity +lurking in its being. The Duchess recognised it in the brief moment of +almost breathless silence which followed. + +"You are very splendid, child," he said after it, "though you are not at +all conscious of it." + +"Sit down again." The Duchess put out a hand which drew Robin still +nearer to her. "Explain to her now," she said. + +Robin's light soft body rested against her when it obeyed. It responded +to more than the mere touch of her hand; its yielding was to something +which promised kindness and even comfort--that something which Dowie and +Mademoiselle had given in those days which now seemed to have belonged +to another world. But though she leaned against the Duchess' knee she +still lifted her eyes to Lord Coombe. + +"This is what I must ask you to listen to," he said. "We believe what +you have told us but we know that no one else will--without legal proof. +We also know that some form may have been neglected because all was done +in haste and ignorance of formalities. You can give no clue--the +ordinary methods of investigation are in confusion as the whole country +is. This is what remains for us to face. _You_ are not ashamed, but if +you cannot prove legal marriage Donal's son will know bitter +humiliation; he will be robbed of all he should possess--his life will +be ruined. Do you understand?" + +"Yes," she answered without moving her eyes from his face. She seemed to +him again as he stood before her in the upper room of Lady Etynge's +house when, in his clear aloof voice, he had told her that he had come +to save her. He had saved her then, but now it was not she who needed +saving. + +"There is only one man who can give Donal's child what his father would +have given him," he went on. + +"Who is he?" she asked. + +"I am the man," he answered, and he stood quite still. + +"How--can you do it?" she asked again. + +"I can marry you," his clear, aloof voice replied. + +"You!--You!--You!" she only breathed it out--but it was a cry. + +Then he held up his hand as if to calm her. + +"I told you in the wood that hatred was useless now and that your reason +for hating me had no foundation. I know how you will abhor what I +suggest. But it will not be as bad as it seems. You need not even endure +the ignominy of being known as the Marchioness of Coombe. But when I am +dead Donal's son will be my successor. It will not be held against him +that I married his beautiful young mother and chose to keep the matter a +secret. I have long been known as a peculiar person given to arranging +my affairs according to my own liking. The Head of the House of +Coombe"--with an ironic twitch of the mouth--"will have the law on his +side and will not be asked for explanations. A romantic story will add +to public interest in him. If your child is a daughter she will be +protected. She will not be lonely, she will have friends. She will have +all the chances of happiness a girl naturally longs for--all of them. +Because you are her mother." + +Robin rose and stood before him as involuntarily as she had risen +before, but now she looked different. Her hands were wrung together and +she was the blanched embodiment of terror. She remembered things +Fräulein Hirsh had said. + +"I could not marry you--if I were to be killed because I didn't," was +all she could say. Because marriage had meant only Donal and the dream, +and being saved from the world this one man had represented to her girl +mind. + +"You say that because you have no doubt heard that it has been rumoured +that I have a depraved old man's fancy for you and that I have always +hoped to marry you. That is as false as the other story I denied. I am +not in love with you even in an antediluvian way. You would not marry me +for your own sake. That goes without saying. But I will repeat what I +said in the Wood when you told me you would believe me. There is +Something--not you--not Donal--to be saved from suffering." + +"That is true," the Duchess said and put out her hand as before. "And +there is something longer drawn out and more miserable than mere +dying--a dreary outcast sort of life. We know more about such things +than you do." + +"You may better comprehend my action if I add a purely selfish reason +for it," Coombe went on. "I will give you one. I do not wish to be the +last Marquis of Coombe." + +He took from the table a piece of paper. He had actually made notes upon +it. + +"Do not be alarmed by this formality," he said. "I wish to spare words. +If you consent to the performance of a private ceremony you will not be +required to see me again unless you yourself request it. I have a quiet +place in a remote part of Scotland where you can live with Dowie to take +care of you. Dowie can be trusted and will understand what I tell her. +You will be safe. You will be left alone. You will be known as a young +widow. There are young widows everywhere." + +Her eyes had not for a moment left his. By the time he had ended they +looked immense in her thin and white small face. Her old horror of him +had been founded on a false belief in things which had not existed, but +a feeling which has lasted almost a lifetime has formed for itself an +atmosphere from whose influence it is not easy to escape. And he stood +now before her looking as he had always looked when she had felt him to +be the finely finished embodiment of evil. But-- + +"You are--doing it--for Donal," she faltered. + +"You yourself would be doing it for Donal," he answered. + +"Yes. And--I do not matter." + +"Donal's wife and the mother of Donal's boy or girl matters very much," +he gave back to her. He did not alter the impassive aloofness of his +manner, knowing that it was better not to do so. An astute nerve +specialist might have used the same method with a patient. + +There was a moment or so of silence in which the immense eyes gazed +before her almost _through_ him--piteously. + +"I will do anything I am told to do," she said at last. After she had +said it she turned and looked at the Duchess. + +The Duchess held out both her hands. They were held so far apart that it +seemed almost as if they were her arms. Robin swept towards the broad +footstool but reaching it she pushed it aside and knelt down laying her +face upon the silken lap sobbing soft and low. + +"All the world is covered with dead--beautiful boys!" her sobbing said. +"All alone and dead--dead!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +No immediate change was made in her life during the days that followed. +She sat at her desk, writing letters, referring to notes and lists and +answering questions as sweetly and faithfully as she had always done +from the first. She tried to remember every detail and she also tried to +keep before her mind that she must not let people guess that she was +thinking of other things--or rather trying not to think of them. It was +as though she stood guard over a dark background of thought, of which +others must know nothing. It was a background which belonged to herself +and which would always be there. Sometimes when she lifted her eyes she +found the Duchess looking at her and then she realised that the Duchess +knew it was there too. + +She began to notice that almost everybody looked at her in a kindly +slightly troubled way. Very important matrons and busy excited girls who +ran in and out on errands had the same order of rather evasive glance. + +"You have no cough, my dear, have you?" more than one amiable grand lady +asked her. + +"No, thank you--none at all," Robin answered and she was nearly always +patted on the shoulder as her questioner left her. + +Kathryn sitting by her desk one morning, watching her as she wrote a +note, suddenly put her hand out and stopped her. + +"Let me look at your wrist, Robin," she said and she took it between her +fingers. + +"Oh! What a little wrist!" she exclaimed. "I--I am sure Grandmamma has +not seen it. Grandmamma--" aloud to the Duchess, "_Have_ you seen +Robin's wrist? It looks as if it would snap in two." + +There were only three or four people in the room and they were all +intimates and looked interested. + +"It is only that I am a little thin," said Robin. "Everybody is thinner +than usual. It is nothing." + +The Duchess' kind look somehow took in those about her in her answer. + +"You are too thin, my dear," she said. "I must tell you frankly, +Kathryn, that you will be called upon to take her place. I am going to +send her away into the wilds. The War only ceases for people who are +sent into wild places. Dr. Redcliff is quite fixed in that opinion. +People who need taking care of must be literally hidden away in corners +where war vibrations cannot reach them. He has sent Emily Clare away and +even her friends do not know where she is." + +Later in the day Lady Lothwell came and in the course of a few minutes +drew near to her mother and sat by her chair rather closely. She spoke +in a lowered voice. + +"I am so glad, mamma darling, that you are going to send poor little +Miss Lawless into retreat for a rest cure," she began. "It's so tactless +to continually chivy people about their health, but I own that I can +scarcely resist saying to the child every time I see her, 'Are you any +better today?' or, 'Have you any cough?' or, 'How is your appetite?' I +have not wanted to trouble you about her but the truth is we all find +ourselves talking her over. The point of her chin is growing actually +sharp. What is Mrs. Gareth-Lawless doing?" curtly. + +"Giving dinners and bridge parties to officers on leave. Robin never +sees her." + +"Of course the woman does not want her about. She is too lovely for +officers' bridge parties," rather sharply again. + +"Mrs. Gareth-Lawless is not the person one would naturally turn to for +sympathy in trouble. Illness would present itself to her mind as a sort +of outrage." The Duchess herself spoke in a low tone and her eyes +wandered for a moment or so to the corner where Robin sat among her +papers. + +"She is a sensitive child," she said, "and I have not wanted to alarm +her by telling her she must give up the work her heart is in. I have +seen for some time that she must have an entire holiday and that she +must leave London behind her utterly for a while. Dr. Redcliff knows of +the right remote sort of place for her. It is really quite settled. She +will do as I advise her. She is very obedient." + +"Mamma," murmured Lady Lothwell who was furtively regarding Robin +also--and it must be confessed with a dewy eye--"I suppose it is because +I have Kathryn--but I feel a sort of pull at my heart when I remember +how the little thing _bloomed_ only a few months ago! She was radiant +with life and joy and youngness. It's the contrast that almost frightens +one. Something has actually gone. Does Doctor Redcliff think--_Could_ +she be going to die? Somehow," with a tremulous breath, "one always +thinks of death now." + +"No! No!" the Duchess answered. "Dr. Redcliff says she is not in real +danger. Nourishment and relaxed strain and quiet will supply what she +needs. But I will ask you, Millicent, to explain to people. I am too +tired to answer questions. I realise that I have actually begun to love +the child and I don't want to hear amiable people continuously +suggesting the probability that she is in galloping consumption--and +proposing remedies." + +"Will she go soon?" Lady Lothwell asked. + +"As soon as Dr. Redcliff has decided between two heavenly little +places--one in Scotland and one in Wales. Perhaps next week or a week +later. Things must be prepared for her comfort." + +Lady Lothwell went home and talked a little to Kathryn who listened with +sympathetic intelligence. + +"It would have been better not to have noticed her poor little wrists," +she said. "Years ago I believe that telling people that they looked ill +and asking anxiously about their symptoms was regarded as a form of +affection and politeness, but it isn't done at all now." + +"I know, mamma!" Kathryn returned remorsefully. "But somehow there was +something so pathetic in her little thin hand writing so fast--and the +way her eyelashes lay on a sort of hollow of shadow instead of a soft +cheek-- I took it in suddenly all at once-- And I almost burst out +crying without intending to do it. Oh, mamma!" throwing out her hand to +clutch her mother's, "Since--since George--! I seem to cry so suddenly! +Don't--don't you?" + +"Yes--yes!" as they slipped into each other's arms. "We all +do--everybody--everybody!" + +Their weeping was not loud but soft. Kathryn's girl voice had a low +violin-string wail in it and was infinitely touching in its innocent +love and pity. + +"It's because one feels as if it _couldn't_ be true--as if he _must_ be +somewhere! George--good nice George. So good looking and happy and silly +and dear! And we played and fought together when we were children. Oh! +To _kill_ George--George!" + +When they sat upright again with wet eyes and faces Kathryn added, + +"And he was only _one_! And that beautiful Donal Muir who danced with +Robin at Grandmamma's party! And people actually _stared_ at them, they +looked so happy and beautiful." She paused and thought a moment. "Do you +know, mamma, I couldn't help believing he would fall in love with her if +he saw her often--and I wondered what Lord Coombe would think. But he +never did see her again. And now--! You know what they said about--not +even _finding_ him!" + +"It is better that they did not meet again. If they had it would be easy +to understand why the poor girl looks so ill." + +"Yes, I'm glad for her that it isn't that. That would have been much +worse. Being sent away to quiet places to rest might have been no good." + +"But even as it is, mamma is more anxious I am sure than she likes to +own to herself. You and I must manage to convey to people that it is +better not even to verge on making fussy inquiries. Mamma has too many +burdens on her mind to be as calm as she used to be." + +It was an entirely uncomplicated situation. It became understood that +the Duchess had become much attached to her companion as a result of her +sweet faithfulness to her work. She and Dr. Redcliff had taken her in +charge and prepared for her comfort and well-being in the most complete +manner. A few months would probably end in a complete recovery. There +were really no special questions even for the curious to ask and no one +was curious. There was no time for curiosity. So Robin disappeared from +her place at the small desk in the corner of the Duchess' sitting room +and Kathryn took her place and used her pen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +In the front window of one of the row of little flat-faced brick houses +on a narrow street in Manchester, Dowie sat holding Henrietta's new baby +upon her lap. They were what is known as "weekly" houses, their rent +being paid by the week and they were very small. There was a parlour +about the size of a compartment in a workbox, there was a still smaller +room behind it which was called a dining room and there was a diminutive +kitchen in which all the meals were eaten unless there was "company to +tea" which in these days was almost unknown. Dowie had felt it very +small when she first came to it from the fine spaces and heights of the +house in Eaton Square and found it seemingly full of very small children +and a hysterically weeping girl awaiting the impending arrival of one +who would be smaller than the rest. + +"You'll never stay here," said Henrietta, crying and clutching the +untidy half-buttoned front of her blouse. "You come straight from +duchesses and grandeur and you don't know how people like us live. How +can you stand us and our dirt, Aunt Sarah Ann?" + +"There needn't be dirt, Henrietta, my girl," said Dowie with quite +uncritical courage. "There wouldn't be if you were yourself, poor lass. +I'm not a duchess, you know. I've only been a respectable servant. And +I'm going to see you through your trouble." + +Her sober, kindly capableness evolved from the slovenly little house and +the untended children, from the dusty rooms and neglected kitchen the +kind of order and neatness which had been plain to see in Robin's more +fortune-favoured apartment. The children became as fresh and neat as +Robin's nursery self. They wore clean pinafores and began to behave +tidily at table. + +"I don't know how you do it, Aunt Sarah Ann," sighed Henrietta. But she +washed her blouse and put buttons on it. + +"It's just seeing things and picking up and giving a touch here and +there," said Dowie. She bought little comforts almost every day and +Henrietta was cheered by cups of hot tea in the afternoon and found +herself helping to prepare decent meals and sitting down to them with +appetite before a clean tablecloth. She began to look better and +recovered her pleasure in sitting at the front window to watch the +people passing by and notice how many new black dresses and bonnets went +to church each Sunday. + +When the new baby was born there was neither turmoil nor terror. + +"Somehow it was different from the other times. It seemed sort of +natural," Henrietta said. "And it's so quiet to lie like this in a +comfortable clean bed, with everything in its place and nothing upset in +the room. And a bright bit of fire in the grate--and a tidy, swept-up +hearth--and the baby breathing so soft in his flannels." + +She was a pretty thing and quite unfit to take care of herself even if +she had had no children. Dowie knew that she was not beset by +sentimental views of life and that all she wanted was a warm and +comfortable corner to settle down into. Some masculine creature would be +sure to begin to want her very soon. It was only to be hoped that youth +and flightiness would not descend upon her--though three children might +be supposed to form a barrier. But she had a girlish figure and her hair +was reddish gold and curly and her full and not too small mouth was red +and curly also. The first time she went to church in her little widow's +bonnet with the reddish gold showing itself under the pathetic little +white crępe border, she was looked at a good deal. Especially was she +looked at by an extremely respectable middle-aged widower who had been a +friend of her dead husband's. His wife had been dead six years, he had a +comfortable house and a comfortable shop which had thriven greatly +through a connection with army supplies. + +He came to see Henrietta and he had the good sense to treat Dowie as if +she were her mother. He explained himself and his circumstances to her +and his previous friendship for her nephew. He asked Dowie if she +objected to his coming to see her niece and bringing toys to the +children. + +"I'm fond of young ones. I wanted 'em myself. I never had any," he said +bluntly. "There's plenty of room in my house. It's a cheerful place with +good solid furniture in it from top to bottom. There's one room we used +to call 'the Nursery' sometimes just for a joke--not often. I choked up +one day when I said it and Mary Jane burst out crying. I could do with +six." + +He was stout about the waist but his small blue eyes sparkled in his red +face and Henrietta's slimness unromantically but practically approved of +him. + +One evening Dowie came into the little parlour to find her sitting upon +his knee and he restrained her when she tried to rise hastily. + +"Don't get up, Hetty," he said. "Your Aunt Sarah Ann'll understand. +We've had a talk and she's a sensible woman. She says she'll marry me, +Mrs. Dowson--as soon as it's right and proper." + +"Yes, we've had a talk," Dowie replied in her nice steady voice. "He'll +be a good husband to you, Henrietta--kind to the children." + +"I'd be kind to them even if she wouldn't marry me," the stout lover +answered. "I want 'em. I've told myself sometimes that I ought to have +been the mother of six--not the father but the mother. And I'm not +joking." + +"I don't believe you are, Mr. Jenkinson," said Dowie. + + * * * * * + +As she sat before the window in the scrap of a parlour and held the +sleeping new baby on her comfortable lap, she was thinking of this and +feeling glad that poor Jem's widow and children were so well provided +for. It would be highly respectable and proper. The ardour of Mr. +Jenkinson would not interfere with his waiting until Henrietta's weeds +could be decorously laid aside and then the family would be joyfully +established in his well-furnished and decent house. During his probation +he would visit Henrietta and bring presents to the children and +unostentatiously protect them all and "do" for them. + +"They won't really need me now that Henrietta's well and cheerful and +has got some one to make much of her and look after her," Dowie +reflected, trotting the baby gently. "I can't help believing her grace +would take me on again if I wrote and asked her. And I should be near +Miss Robin, thank God. It seems a long time since--" + +She suddenly leaned forward and looked up the narrow street where the +wind was blowing the dust about and whirling some scraps of paper. She +watched a moment and then lifted the baby and stood up so that she +might make more sure of the identity of a tall gentleman she saw +approaching. She only looked at him for a few seconds and then she left +the parlour quickly and went to the back room where she had been aware +of Mr. Jenkinson's voice rumbling amiably along as a background to her +thoughts. + +"Henrietta," she said, "his lordship's coming down the street and he's +coming here. I'm afraid something's happened to Miss Robin or her grace. +Perhaps I'm needed at Eaton Square. Please take the baby." + +"Give him to me," said Jenkinson and it was he who took him with quite +an experienced air. + +Henrietta was agitated. + +"Oh, my goodness! Aunt Sarah Ann! I feel all shaky. I never saw a +lord--and he's a marquis, isn't it? I shan't know what to do." + +"You won't have to do anything," answered Dowie. "He'll only say what +he's come to say and go away." + +She went out of the room as quickly as she had come into it because she +heard the sound of the cheap little door knocker. She was pale with +anxiety when she opened the door and Lord Coombe saw her troubled look +and understood its reason. + +"I am afraid I have rather alarmed you, Dowie," he said as he stepped +into the narrow lobby and shook hands with her. + +"It's not bad news of her grace or Miss Robin?" she faltered. + +"I have come to ask you to come back to London. Her grace is well but +Miss Robin needs you," was what he said. + +But Dowie knew the words did not tell her everything she was to hear. +She took him into the parlour for which she realised he was much too +tall. When she discreetly closed the door after he had entered, he said +seriously, "Thank you," before he seated himself. And she knew that this +meant that they must be undisturbed. + +"Will you sit down too," he said as she stood a moment waiting +respectfully. "We must talk together." + +She took a chair opposite to him and waited respectfully again. Yes, he +had something grave on his mind. He had come to tell her something--to +ask her questions perhaps--to require something of her. Her superiors +had often required things of her in the course of her experience--such +things as they would not have asked of a less sensible and reliable +woman. And she had always been ready. + +When he began to talk to her he spoke as he always did, in a tone which +sounded unemotional but held one's attention. But his face had changed +since she had last seen it. It had aged and there was something +different in the eyes. That was the War. Since the War began so many +faces had altered. + +During the years in the slice of a house he had never talked to her very +much. It was with Mademoiselle he had talked and his interviews with her +had not taken place in the nursery. How was it then that he seemed to +know her so well. Had Mademoiselle told him that she was a woman to be +trusted safely with any serious and intimate confidence--that being +given any grave secret to shield, she would guard it as silently and +discreetly as a great lady might guard such a thing if it were personal +to her own family--as her grace herself might guard it. That he knew +this fact without a shadow of doubt was subtly manifest in every word he +spoke, in each tone of his voice. There was strange dark trouble to +face--and keep secret--and he had come straight to her--Sarah Ann +Dowson--because he was sure of her and knew her ways. It was her _ways_ +he knew and understood--her steadiness and that she had the kind of +manners that keep a woman from talking about things and teach her how to +keep other people from being too familiar and asking questions. And he +knew what that kind of manners was built on--just decent faithfulness +and honest feeling. He didn't say it in so many words, of course, but as +Dowie listened it was exactly as if he said it in gentleman's language. + +England was full of strange and cruel tragedies. And they were not all +tragedies of battle and sudden death. Many of them were near enough to +seem even worse--if worse could be. Dowie had heard some hints of them +and had wondered what the world was coming to. As her visitor talked her +heart began to thump in her side. Whatsoever had happened was no secret +from her grace. And together she and his lordship were going to keep it +a secret from the world. Dowie could scarcely have told what phrase or +word at last suddenly brought up before her a picture of the nursery in +the house in Mayfair--the feeling of a warm soft childish body pressed +close to her knee, the look of a tender, dewy-eyed small face and the +sound of a small yearning voice saying: + +"I want to _kiss_ you, Dowie." And so hearing it, Dowie's heart cried +out to itself, "Oh! Dear Lord!" + +"It's Miss Robin that trouble's come to," involuntarily broke from her. + + +"A trouble she must be protected in. She cannot protect herself." For a +few seconds he sat and looked at her very steadily. It was as though he +were asking a question. Dowie did not know she was going to rise from +her chair. But for some reason she got up and stood quite firmly before +him. And her good heart went thump-thump-thump. + +"Your lordship," she said and in spite of the thumping her voice +actually did not shake. "It was one of those War weddings. And perhaps +he's dead." + +Then it was Lord Coombe who left his chair. + +"Thank you, Dowie," he said and before he began to walk up and down the +tiny room she felt as if he made a slight bow to her. + +She had said something that he had wished her to say. She had removed +some trying barrier for him instead of obliging him to help her to cross +it and perhaps stumbling on her way. She had neither stumbled nor +clambered, she had swept it away out of his path and hers. That was +because she knew Miss Robin and had known her from her babyhood. + +Though for some time he walked to and fro slowly as he talked she saw +that it was easier for him to complete the relation of his story. But as +it proceeded it was necessary for her to make an effort to recall +herself to a realisation of the atmosphere of the parlour and the narrow +street outside the window--and she was glad to be assisted by the +amiable rumble of Mr. Jenkinson's voice as heard from the back room when +she found herself involuntarily leaning forward in her chair, vaguely +conscious that she was drawing short breaths, as she listened to what he +was telling her. The things she was listening to stood out from a +background of unreality so startling. She was even faintly tormented by +shadowy memories of a play she had seen years ago at Drury Lane. And +Drury Lane incidents were of a world so incongruously remote from the +house in Eaton Square and her grace's clever aquiline ivory face--and +his lordship with his quiet bearing and his unromantic and elderly, +tired fineness. And yet he was going to undertake to do a thing which +was of the order of deed the sober everyday mind could only expect from +the race of persons known as "heroes" in theatres and in books. And he +was noticeably and wholly untheatrical about it. His plans were those of +a farseeing and practical man in every detail. To Dowie the working +perfection of his preparations was amazing. They included every +contingency and seemed to forget nothing and ignore no possibility. He +had thought of things the cleverest woman might have thought of, he had +achieved effects as only a sensible man accustomed to power and +obedience could have achieved them. And from first to last he kept +before Dowie the one thing which held the strongest appeal. In her +helpless heartbreak and tragedy Robin needed her as she needed no one +else in the world. + +"She is so broken and weakened that she may not live," he said in the +end. "No one can care for her as you can." + +"I can care for her, poor lamb. I'll come when your lordship's ready for +me, be it soon or late." + +"Thank you, Dowie," he said again. "It will be soon." + +And when he shook hands with her and she opened the front door for him, +she stood and watched him, thinking very deeply as he walked down the +street with the wind-blown dust and scraps of paper whirling about him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +In little more than two weeks Dowie descended from her train in the +London station and took a hansom cab which carried her through the +familiar streets to Eaton Square. She was comforted somewhat by the mere +familiarity of things--even by the grade of smoke which seemed in some +way to be different from the smoke of Manchester's cotton factory +chimneys--by the order of rattle and roar and rumble, which had a +homelike sound. She had not felt at home in Manchester and she had not +felt quite at home with Henrietta though she had done her duty by her. +Their worlds had been far apart and daily adjustment to circumstances is +not easy though it may be accomplished without the betrayal of any +outward sign. His lordship's summons had come soon, as he had said it +would, but he had made it possible for her to leave in the little house +a steady and decent woman to take her place when she gave it up. + +She had made her journey from the North with an anxiously heavy heart in +her breast. She was going to "take on" a responsibility which included +elements previously quite unknown to her. She was going to help to hide +something, to live with a strange secret trouble and while she did so +must wear her accustomed, respectable and decorous manner and aspect. +Whatsoever alarmed or startled her, she must not seem to be startled or +alarmed. As his lordship had carried himself with his usual bearing, +spoken in his high-bred calm voice and not once failed in the +naturalness of his expression--even when he had told her the whole +strange plan--so she must in any circumstances which arose and in any +difficult situation wear always the aspect of a well-bred and trained +servant who knew nothing which did not concern her and did nothing +which ordinary domestic service did not require that she should do. She +must always seem to be only Sarah Ann Dowson and never forget. But +delicate and unusual as this problem was, it was not the thing which +made her heart heavy. Several times during her journey she had been +obliged to turn her face towards the window of the railway carriage and +away from her fellow passengers so that she might very quickly and +furtively touch her eyes with her handkerchief because she did not want +any one to see the tear which obstinately welled up in spite of her +efforts to keep it back. + +She had heard of "trouble" in good families, had even been related to +it. She knew how awful it was and what desperate efforts were made, what +desperate means resorted to, in the concealment of it. And how difficult +and almost impossible it was to cope with it and how it seemed sometimes +as if the whole fabric of society and custom combined to draw attention +to mere trifles which in the end proved damning evidence. + +And it was Miss Robin she was going to--her own Miss Robin who had never +known a child of her own age or had a girl friend--who had been cut off +from innocent youth and youth's happiness and intimacies. + +"It's been one of those poor mad young war weddings," she kept saying to +herself, "though no one will believe her. If she hadn't been so ignorant +of life and so lonely! But just as she fell down worshipping that dear +little chap in the Gardens because he was the first she'd ever +seen--it's only nature that the first beautiful young thing her own age +that looked at her with love rising up in him should set it rising in +her--where God had surely put it if ever He put love as part of life in +any girl creature His hand made. But Oh! I can _see_ no one will +believe her! The world's heart's so wicked. I know, poor lamb. Her Dowie +knows. And her left like this!" + +It was when her thoughts reached this point that the tear would gather +in the corner of her eye and would have trickled down her cheek if she +had not turned away towards the window. + +But above all things she told herself she must present only Dowie's face +when she reached Eaton Square. There were the servants who knew nothing +and must know nothing but that Mrs. Dowson had come to take care of poor +Miss Lawless who had worked too hard and was looking ill and was to be +sent into the country to some retreat her grace had chosen because it +was far enough away to allow of her being cut off from war news and +work, if her attendants were faithful and firm. Every one knew Mrs. +Dowson would be firm and faithful. Then there were the ladies who went +in and out of the house in these days. If they saw her by any chance +they might ask kind interested questions about the pretty creature they +had liked. They might inquire as to symptoms, they might ask where she +was to be taken to be nursed. Dowie knew that after she had seen Robin +herself she could provide suitable symptoms and she knew, as she knew +how to breathe and walk, exactly the respectful voice and manner in +which she could make her replies and how natural she could cause it to +appear that she had not yet been told their destination--her grace being +still undecided. Dowie's decent intelligence knew the methods of her +class and their value when perfectly applied. A nurse or a young lady's +maid knew only what she was told and did not ask questions. + +But what she thought of most anxiously was Robin herself. His lordship +had given her no instructions. Part of his seeming to understand her was +that he had seemed to be sure that she would know what to say and what +to leave unsaid. She was glad of that because it left her free to think +the thing over and make her own quiet plans. She drew more than one +tremulous sigh as she thought it out. In the first place--little Miss +Robin seemed like a baby to her yet! Oh, she _was_ a baby! Little Miss +Robin just in her teens and with her childish asking eyes and her soft +childish mouth! Her a young married lady and needing to be taken care +of! She was too young to be married--if it was ever so! And if +everything had been done all right and proper with wedding cake and +veil, orange blossoms and St. George's, Hanover Square, she still would +have been too young and would have looked almost cruelly like a child. +And at a time such as this Dowie would have known she was one to be +treated with great delicacy and tender reserve. But as it was--a little +shamed thing to be hidden away--to be saved from the worst of fates for +any girl--with nothing in her hand to help her--how would it be wisest +to face her, how could one best be a comfort and a help? + +How the sensible and tender creature gave her heart and brain to her +reflections! How she balanced one chance and one emotion against +another! Her conclusion was, as Coombe had known it would be, drawn from +the experience of practical wisdom and an affection as deep as the +experience was broad. + +"She won't be afraid of Dowie," she thought, "if it's just Dowie that +looks at her exactly as she always did. In her little soul she may be +frightened to death but if it's only Dowie she sees--not asking +questions or looking curious and unnatural, she'll get over it and know +she's got something to hold on to. What she needs is something she can +hold on to--something that won't tremble when she does--and that looks +at her in the way she was used to when she was happy and safe. What I +must do with her is what I must do with the others--just look and talk +and act as Dowie always did, however hard it is. Perhaps when we get +away to the quiet place we're going to hide in, she may begin to want to +talk to me. But not a question do I ask or look until she's ready to +open her poor heart to me." + + * * * * * + +She had herself well under control when she reached her destination. She +had bathed her face and freshened herself with a cup of hot tea at the +station. She entered the house quite with her usual manner and was +greeted with obvious welcome by her fellow servants. They had missed her +and were glad to see her again. She reported herself respectfully to +Mrs. James in the housekeeper's sitting room and they had tea again and +a confidential talk. + +"I'm glad you could leave your niece, Mrs. Dowson," the housekeeper +said. "It's high time poor little Miss Lawless was sent away from +London. She's not fit for war work now or for anything but lying in bed +in a quiet place where she can get fresh country air and plenty of fresh +eggs, and good milk and chicken broth. And she needs a motherly woman +like you to watch her carefully." + +"Does she look as delicate as all that?" said Dowie concernedly. + +"She'll lie in the graveyard in a few months if something's not done. +I've seen girls look like her before this." And Mrs. James said it +almost sharply. + +But even with this preparation and though Lord Coombe had spoken +seriously of the state of the girl's health, Dowie was not ready to +encounter without a fearful sense of shock what she confronted a little +later when she went to Robin's sitting room as she was asked to. + +When she tapped upon the door and in response to a faint sounding "Come +in" entered the pretty place, Robin rose from her seat by the fire and +came towards her holding out her arms. + +"I'm so glad you came, Dowie dear," she said, "I'm _so_ glad." She put +the arms close round Dowie's neck and kissed her and held her cheek +against the comfortable warm one a moment before she let go. "I'm so +_glad_, dear," she murmured and it was even as she felt the arms close +about her neck and the cheek press hers that Dowie caught her breath and +held it so that she might not seem to gasp. They were such thin frail +arms, the young body on which the dress hung loose was only a shadow of +the round slimness which had been so sweet. + +But it was when the arm released her and they stood apart and looked at +each other that she felt the shock in full force while Robin continued +her greetings. + +"Did you leave Henrietta and the children quite well?" she was saying. +"Is the new baby a pretty one?" + +Dowie had not been one of those who had seen the gradual development of +the physical change in her. It came upon her suddenly. She had left a +young creature all softly rounded girlhood, sweet curves and life glow +and bloom. She found herself holding a thin hand and looking into a +transparent, sharpened small face whose eyes were hollowed. The silk of +the curls on the forehead had a dankness and lifelessness which almost +made her catch her breath again. Like Mrs. James she herself had more +than once had the experience of watching young creatures slip into what +the nurses of her day called "rapid decline" and she knew all the +piteous portents of the early stages--the waxen transparency of +sharpened features and the damp clinging hair. These two last were to +her mind the most significant of the early terrors. + +And in less than five minutes she knew that the child was not going to +talk about herself and that she had been right in making up her own mind +to wait. Whatsoever the strain of silence, there would be no speech now. +The piteous darkness of her eye held a stillness that was +heart-breaking. It was a stillness of such touching endurance of +something inevitable. Whatsoever had happened to her, whatsoever was +going to happen to her, she would make no sound. She would outwardly be +affectionate, pretty-mannered Miss Robin just as Dowie herself would +give all her strength to trying to seem to be nothing and nobody but +Dowie. And what it would cost of effort to do it well! + +When they sat down together it was because she drew Robin by the thin +little hand to an easy chair and she still held the thin hand when she +sat near her. + +"Henrietta's quite well, I'm glad to say," she answered. "And the baby's +a nice plump little fellow. I left them very comfortable--and I think in +time Henrietta will be married again." + +"Married again!" said Robin. "Again!" + +"He's a nice well-to-do man and he's fond of her and he's fond of +children. He's never had any and he's always wanted them." + +"Has he?" Robin murmured. "That's very nice for Henrietta." But there +was a shadow in her eyes which was rather like frightened bewilderment. + +Dowie still holding the mere nothing of a hand, stroked and patted it +now and then as she described Mr. Jenkinson and the children and the +life in the house in Manchester. She wanted to gain time and commonplace +talk helped her. + +"She won't be married again until her year's up," she explained. "And +it's the best thing she could do--being left a young widow with children +and nothing to live on. Mr. Jenkinson can give her more than she's ever +had in the way of comforts." + +"Did she love poor Jem very much?" Robin asked. + +"She was very much taken with him in her way when she married him," +Dowie said. "He was a cheerful, joking sort of young man and girls like +Henrietta like jokes and fun. But they were neither of them romantic and +it had begun to be a bit hard when the children came. She'll be very +comfortable with Mr. Jenkinson and being comfortable means being +happy--to Henrietta." + +Then Robin smiled a strange little ghost of a smile--but there were no +dimples near it. + +"You haven't told me that I am thin, Dowie," she said. "I know I am +thin, but it doesn't matter. And I am glad you kissed me first. That +made me sure that you were Dowie and not only a dream. Everything has +been seeming as if it were a dream--everything--myself--everybody--even +you--_you_!" And the small hand clutched her hard. + +A large lump climbed into Dowie's throat but she managed it bravely. + +"It's no use telling people they're thin," she answered with stout good +cheer. "It doesn't help to put flesh on them. And there are a good many +young ladies working themselves thin in these days. You're just one of +them that's going to be taken care of. I'm not a dream, Miss Robin, my +dear. I'm just your own Dowie and I'm going to take care of you as I did +when you were six." + +She actually felt the bones of the small hand as it held her own still +closer. It began to tremble because Robin had begun to tremble. But +though she was trembling and her eyes looked very large and frightened, +the silence was still deep within them. + +"Yes," the low voice faltered, "you will take care of me. Thank you, +Dowie dear. I--must let people take care of me. I know that. I am like +Henrietta." + +And that was all. + + * * * * * + +"She's very much changed, your grace," Dowie said breathlessly when she +went to the Duchess afterwards. There had been no explanation or going +into detail but she knew that she might allow herself to be breathless +when she stood face to face with her grace. "Does she cough? Has she +night sweats? Has she any appetite?" + +"She does not cough yet," the Duchess answered, but her grave eyes were +as troubled as Dowie's own. "Doctor Redcliff will tell you everything. +He will see you alone. We are sending her away with you because you love +her and will know how to take care of her. We are very anxious." + +"Your grace," Dowie faltered and one of the tears she had forced back +when she was in the railway carriage rose insubordinately and rolled +down her cheek, "just once I nursed a young lady who--looked as she does +now. I did my best with all my heart, the doctors did their best, +everybody that loved her did their best--and there were a good many. We +watched over her for six months." + +"Six months?" the Duchess' voice was an unsteady thing. + +"At the end of six months we laid her away in a pretty country +churchyard, with flowers heaped all over her--and her white little hands +full of them. And she hadn't--as much to contend with--as Miss Robin +has." + +And in the minute of dead silence which followed more tears fell. No one +tried to hold them back and some of them were the tears of the old +Duchess. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +There are old and forgotten churches in overgrown corners of London +whose neglected remoteness suggests the possibility of any +ecclesiastical ceremony being performed quite unobserved except by the +parties concerned in it. If entries and departures were discreetly +arranged, a baptismal or a marriage ceremony might take place almost as +in a tomb. A dark wet day in which few pass by and such as pass are +absorbed in their own discomforts beneath their umbrellas, offers a +curiously entire aloofness of seclusion. In the neglected graveyards +about them there is no longer any room to bury any one in the damp black +earth where the ancient tombs are dark with mossy growth and mould, +heavy broken slabs slant sidewise perilously, sad and thin cats prowl, +and from a soot-blackened tree or so the rain drops with hollow, +plashing sounds. + +The rain was so plashing and streaming in rivulets among the mounds and +stones of the burial ground of one of the most ancient and forgotten +looking of such churches, when on a certain afternoon there came to the +narrow soot-darkened Vicarage attached to it a tall, elderly man who +wished to see and talk to the Vicar. + +The Vicar in question was an old clergyman who had spent nearly fifty +years in the silent, ecclesiastical-atmosphered small house. He was an +unmarried man whose few relatives living in the far North of England +were too poor and unenterprising to travel to London. His days were +spent in unsatisfactory work among crowded and poverty-stricken human +creatures before whom he felt helpless because he was an unpractical old +Oxford bookworm. He read such services as he held in his dim church, to +empty pews and echoing hollowness. He was nevertheless a deeply thinking +man who was a gentleman of a scarcely remembered school; he was a +peculiarly silent man and of dignified understanding. Through the long +years he had existed in detached seclusion in his corner of his world +around which great London roared and swept almost unheard by him in his +remoteness. + +When the visitor's card was brought to him where he sat in his dingy, +book-packed study, he stood--after he had told his servant to announce +the caller--gazing dreamily at the name upon the white surface. It was a +stately name and brought back vague memories. Long ago--very long ago, +he seemed to recall that he had slightly known the then bearer of it. He +himself had been young then--quite young. The man he had known was dead +and this one, his successor, must by this time have left youth behind +him. What had led him to come? + +Then the visitor was shown into the study. The Vicar felt that he was a +man of singular suggestions. His straight build, his height, his +carriage arrested the attention and the clear cut of his cold face held +it. One of his marked suggestions was that there was unusual lack of +revelation in his rather fine almond eye. It might have revealed much +but its intention was to reveal nothing but courteous detachment from +all but well-bred approach to the demand of the present moment. + +"I think I remember seeing you when you were a boy, Lord Coombe," the +Vicar said. "My father was rector of St. Andrews." St. Andrews was the +Norman-towered church on the edge of the park enclosing Coombe Keep. + +"I came to you because I also remembered that," was Coombe's reply. + +Their meeting was a very quiet one. But every incident of life was +quiet in the Vicarage. Only low sounds were ever heard, only almost +soundless movements made. The two men seated themselves and talked +calmly while the rain pattered on the window panes and streaming down +them seemed to shut out the world. + +What the Vicar realised was that, since his visitor had announced that +he had come because he remembered their old though slight acquaintance, +he had obviously come for some purpose to which the connection formed a +sort of support or background. This man, whose modernity of bearing and +externals seemed to separate them by a lifetime of experience, clearly +belonged to the London which surrounded and enclosed his own silences +with civilised roar and the tumult of swift passings. On the surface the +small, dingy book-crammed study obviously held nothing this outer world +could require. The Vicar said as much courteously and he glanced round +the room as he spoke, gently smiling. + +"But it is exactly this which brings me," Lord Coombe answered. + +With great clearness and never raising the note of quiet to which the +walls were accustomed, he made his explanation. He related no incidents +and entered into no detail. When he had at length concluded the +presentation of his desires, his hearer knew nothing whatever, save what +was absolutely necessary, of those concerned in the matter. Utterly +detached from all curiosities as he was, this crossed the Vicar's mind. +There was a marriage ceremony to be performed. That only the contracting +parties should be aware of its performance was absolutely necessary. +That there should be no chance of opportunity given for question or +comment was imperative. Apart from this the legality of the contract was +all that concerned those entering into it; and that must be assured +beyond shadow of possible doubt. + +In the half-hidden and forgotten old church to which the Vicarage was +attached such a ceremony could obviously be performed, and to an +incumbent detached from the outer world, as it were, and one who was +capable of comprehending the occasional gravity of reasons for silence, +it could remain so long as was necessary a confidence securely guarded. + +"It is possible," the Vicar said at the end of the explanation. "I have +performed the ceremony before under somewhat similar circumstances." + +A man of less breeding and with even normal curiosities might have made +the mistake of asking innocent questions. He asked none except such as +related to the customary form of procedure in such matters. He did not, +in fact, ask questions of himself. He was also fully aware that Lord +Coombe would have given no answer to any form of inquiry. The marriage +was purely his own singular affair. It was he himself who chose in this +way to be married--in a forgotten church in whose shadowy emptiness the +event would be as a thing brought to be buried unseen and unmarked by +any stone, but would yet be a contract binding in the face and courts of +the world if it should for any reason be exhumed. + +When he rose to go and the Vicar rose with him, there was a moment of +pause which was rather curious. The men's eyes met and for a few moments +rested upon each other. The Vicar's were still and grave, but there was +a growth of deep feeling in them. This suggested a sort of profound +human reflection. + +Lord Coombe's expression itself changed a shade. It might perhaps be +said that his eyes had before this moment scarcely seemed to hold +expression. + +"She is very young," he said in an unusual voice. "In +this--holocaust--she needs protection. I can protect her." + +"It is a holocaust," the Vicar said, "--a holocaust." And singularly the +words seemed an answer. + + * * * * * + +On a morning of one of London's dark days when the rain was again +splashing and streaming in rivulets among the mounds and leaning and +tumbling stones of the forgotten churchyard, there came to the church +three persons who if they had appeared in more frequented edifices would +have attracted some attention without doubt, unnoticeably as they were +dressed and inconspicuous as was their manner and bearing. + +They did not all three present themselves at the same time. First there +appeared the tall elderly man who had visited and conferred with the +Vicar. He went at once to the vestry where he spent some time with the +incumbent who awaited him. + +Somewhat later there stepped through the little arched doorway a +respectable looking elderly woman and a childlike white-faced girl in a +close black frock. That the church looked to them so dark as to be +almost black with shadows was manifest when they found themselves inside +peering into the dimness. The outer darkness seemed to have crowded +itself through the low doorway to fill the groined arches with gloom. + +"Where must we go to, Dowie?" Robin whispered holding to the warm, stout +arm. + +"Don't be timid, my dearie," Dowie whispered back. "His lordship will be +ready for us now we've come." + +His lordship was ready. He came forward to meet them and when he did so, +Robin knew--though he seemed to be part of the dimness and to come out +of a dream--that she need feel no further uncertainties or fears. That +which was to take place would move forward without let or hindrance to +its end. That was what one always felt in his presence. + +In a few minutes they were standing in a part of the church which would +have seemed darker than any other shadow-filled corner but that a dim +light burned on a small altar and a clergyman whose white vestments made +him look wraithlike and very tall waited before it and after a few +moments of solemn silence began to read from the prayer book he held in +his hand. + +There were strange passings and repassings through Robin's mind as she +made her low responses--memories of the hours when she had asked herself +if she were still alive--if she were not dead as Donal was, but walking +about without having found it out. It was as though this must be true +now and her own voice and Lord Coombe's and the clergyman's only ghosts' +voices. They were so low and unlike real voices and when they floated +away among the shadows, low ghastly echoes seemed to float with them. + +"I will," she heard herself say, and also other things the clergyman +told her to repeat after him and when Lord Coombe spoke she could +scarcely understand because it was all like a dream and did not matter. + +Once she turned so cold and white and trembled so that Dowie made an +involuntary movement towards her, but Lord Coombe's quiet firmness held +her swaying body and though the clergyman paused a moment the trembling +passed away and the ceremony went on. She had begun to tremble because +she remembered that the other marriage had seemed like a dream in +another world than this--a world which was so alive that she had +trembled and thrilled with exquisite living. And because Donal knew how +frightened she was he had stood so close to her that she had felt the +dear warmness of his body. And he had held her hand quite tight when he +took it and his "I will" had been beautiful and clear. And when he had +put on the borrowed ring he had drawn her eyes up to the blue tarn of +his own. Donal was killed! Perhaps the young chaplain had been killed +too. And she was being married to Lord Coombe who was an old man and did +not stand close to her, whose hand scarcely held hers at all--but who +was putting on a ring. + +Her eyes--her hunted young doe's eyes--lifted themselves. Lord Coombe +met them and understood. Strangely she knew he understood--that he knew +what she was thinking about. For that one moment there came into his +eyes a look which might not have been his own, and vaguely she knew that +it held strange understanding and he was sorry for her--and for Donal +and for everything in the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +The little feudal fastness in the Highlands which was called Darreuch +Castle--when it was mentioned by any one, which was rarely--had been +little more than a small ruin when Lord Coombe inherited it as an +unconsidered trifle among more imposing and available property. It had +indeed presented the aspect not so much of an asset as of an entirely +useless relic. The remote and--as far as record dwelt on him--obviously +unnotable ancestor who had built it as a stronghold in an almost +unreachable spot upon the highest moors had doubtlessly had picturesque +reasons for the structure, but these were lost in the dim past and +appeared on the surface, unexplainable to a modern mind. Lord Coombe +himself had not explained an interest he chose to feel in it, or his own +reasons for repairing it a few years after it came into his possession. +He rebuilt certain breaches in the walls and made certain rooms +sufficiently comfortable to allow of his spending a few nights or weeks +in it at rare intervals. He always went alone, taking no servant with +him, and made his retreat after his own mood, served only by the farmer +and his wife who lived in charge from year's end to year's end, herding +a few sheep and cultivating a few acres for their own needs. + +They were a silent pair without children and plainly not feeling the +lack of them. They had lived in remote moorland places since their +birth. They had so little to say to each other that Lord Coombe +sometimes felt a slight curiosity as to why they had married instead of +remaining silent singly. There was however neither sullenness nor +resentment in their lack of expression. Coombe thought they liked each +other but found words unnecessary. Jock Macaur driving his sheep to fold +in the westering sun wore the look of a man not unpleased with life and +at least undisturbed by it. Maggy Macaur doing her housework, churning +or clucking to her hens, was peacefully cheerful and seemed to ask no +more of life than food and sleep and comfortable work which could be +done without haste. There were no signs of knowledge on her part or +Jock's of the fact that they were surrounded by wonders of moorland and +hillside colour and beauty. Sunrise which leaped in delicate flames of +dawn meant only that they must leave their bed; sunset which lighted the +moorland world with splendour meant that a good night's sleep was +coming. + +Jock had heard from a roaming shepherd or so that the world was at war +and that lads were being killed in their thousands. One good man had +said that the sons of the great gentry were being killed with the rest. +Jock did not say that he did not believe it and in fact expressed no +opinion at all. If he and Maggy gave credit to the story, they were +little disturbed by any sense of its reality. They had no neighbours and +their few stray kinfolk lived at remote distances and were not given to +visits or communications. There had been vague rumours of far away wars +in the years past, but they had assumed no more reality than legends. +This war was a shadow too and after Jock came home one night and +mentioned it as he might have mentioned the death of a cow or the buying +of a moor pony the subject was forgotten by both. + +"His lordship" it was who reminded them of it. He even bestowed upon the +rumour a certain reality. He appeared at the stout little old castle one +day without having sent them warning, which was unusual. He came to give +some detailed orders and to instruct them in the matter of changes. He +had shown forethought in bringing with him a selection of illustrated +newspapers. This saved time and trouble in the matter of making the +situation clear. The knowledge which conveyed itself to Maggy and Jock +produced the effect of making them even more silent than usual if such a +condition were possible. They stared fixedly and listened with respect +but beyond a rare "Hech!" they had no opinion to express. It became +plain that the war was more than a mere rumour-- The lads who had been +blown to bits or bayoneted! The widows and orphans that were left! Some +of the youngest of the lads had lost their senses and married young +things only to go off to the ill place folk called "The Front" and leave +them widows in a few days' or weeks' time. There were hundreds of bits +of girls left lonely waiting for their bairns to come into the +world--Some with scarce a penny unless friends took care of them. There +was a bit widow in her teens who was a distant kinswoman of his +lordship's, and her poor lad was among those who were killed. He had +been a fine lad and he would never see his bairn. The poor young widow +had been ill with grief and the doctors said she must be hidden away in +some quiet place where she would never hear of battles or see a +newspaper. She must be kept in peace and taken great care of if she was +to gain strength to live through her time. She had no family to watch +over her and his lordship and an old lady who was fond of her had taken +her trouble in hand. The well-trained woman who had nursed her as a +child would bring her to Darreuch Castle and there would stay. + +His lordship had been plainly much interested in the long time past when +he had put the place in order for his own convenience. Now he seemed +even more interested and more serious. He went from room to room with a +grave face and looked things over carefully. He had provided himself +with comforts and even luxuries before his first coming and they had +been of the solid baronial kind which does not deteriorate. It was a +little castle and a forgotten one, but his rooms had beauty and had not +been allowed to be as gloomy as they might have been if stone walls and +black oak had not been warmed by the rich colours of tapestry and +pictures which held light and glow. But other things were coming from +London. He himself would wait to see them arrive and installed. The +Macaurs wondered what more the "young leddy" and her woman could want +but took their orders obediently. Her woman's name was Mrs. Dowson and +she was a quiet decent body who would manage the household. That the +young widow was to be well taken care of was evident. A doctor was to +ride up the moorland road each day to see her, which seemed a great +precaution even though the Macaurs did not know that he had consented to +live temporarily in the locality because he had been well paid to do so. +Lord Coombe had chosen him with as discreet selection as he had used in +his choice of the vicar of the ancient and forsaken church. A rather +young specialist who was an enthusiast in his work and as ambitious as +he was poor, could contemplate selling some months of his time for value +received if the terms offered were high enough. That silence and +discretion were required formed no objections. + + * * * * * + +The rain poured down on the steep moorland road when the carriage slowly +climbed it to the castle. Robin, seeming to gaze out at the sodden +heath, did not really see it because she was thinking of Dowie who sat +silently by her side. Dowie had taken her from the church to the station +and they had made the long journey together. They had talked very little +in the train though Dowie had been tenderly careful and kind. Robin knew +she would ask no questions and she dully felt that the blows which were +falling on everybody every day must have stunned her also. What she +herself was thinking as she seemed to gaze at the sodden heather was a +thing of piteous and helpless pain. She was achingly wondering what +Dowie was thinking--what she knew and what she thought of the girl she +had taken such care of and who was being sent away to be hidden in a +ruined castle whose existence was a forgotten thing. The good +respectable face told nothing but it seemed to be trying to keep itself +from looking too serious; and once Robin had thought that it looked as +if Dowie might suddenly have broken down if she would have allowed +herself but she would not allow herself. + +The truth was that the two or three days at Eaton Square had been very +hard for Dowie to manage perfectly. To play her accepted part before her +fellow servants required much steady strength. They were all fond of +"poor little Miss Lawless" and had the tendency of their class to +discuss and dwell upon symptoms with sympathetic harrowingness of +detail. It seemed that all of them had had some friend or relative who +had "gone off in a quick decline. It's strange how many young people +do!" A head housemaid actually brought her heart into her throat one +afternoon by saying at the servants' hall tea: + +"If she was one of the war brides, I should say she was just like my +cousin Lucy--poor girl. She and her husband were that fond of each other +that it was a pleasure to see them. He was killed in an accident. She +was expecting. And they'd been that happy. She went off in three +months. She couldn't live without him. She wasn't as pretty as Miss +Lawless, of course, but she had big brown eyes and it was the way they +looked that reminded me. Quick decline always makes people's eyes look +big and--just as poor little Miss Lawless does." + +To sit and eat buttered toast quietly and only look normally sad and +slowly shake one's head and say, "Yes indeed. I know what you mean, Miss +Tompkins," was an achievement entitled to much respect. + +The first night Dowie had put her charge to bed and had seen the faint +outline under the bedclothes and the sunken eyes under the pale closed +lids whose heaviness was so plain because it was a heaviness which had +no will to lift itself again and look at the morning, she could scarcely +bear her woe. As she dressed the child when morning came and saw the +delicate bones sharply denoting themselves, and the hollows in neck and +throat where smooth fairness had been, her hands almost shook as she +touched. And hardest of all to bear was the still, patient look in the +enduring eyes. She was being patient--_patient_, poor lamb, and only God +himself knew how she cried when she was left alone in her white bed, the +door closed between her and all the house. + +"Does she think I am wicked?" was what was passing through Robin's mind +as the carriage climbed the moor through the rain. "It would break my +heart if Dowie thought I was wicked. But even that does not matter. It +is only _my_ heart." + +In memory she was looking again into Donal's eyes as he had looked into +hers when he knelt before her in the wood. Afterwards he had kissed her +dress and her feet when she said she would go with him to be married so +that he could have her for his own before he went away to be killed. + +It would have been _his_ heart that would have been broken if she had +said "No" instead of whispering the soft "Yes" of a little mating bird, +which had always been her answer when he had asked anything of her. + +When the carriage drew up at last before the entrance to the castle, the +Macaurs awaited them with patient respectful faces. They saw the "decent +body" assist with care the descent of a young thing the mere lift of +whose eyes almost caused both of them to move a trifle backward. + +"You and Dowie are going to take care of me," she said quiet and low and +with a childish kindness. "Thank you." + +She was taken to a room in whose thick wall Lord Coombe had opened a +window for sunlight and the sight of hill and heather. It was a room +warm and full of comfort--a strange room to find in a little feudal +stronghold hidden from the world. Other rooms were near it, as +comfortable and well prepared. One in a tower adjoining was hung with +tapestry and filled with wonderful old things, uncrowded and harmonious +and so arranged as to produce the effect of a small retreat for rest, +the reading of books or refuge in stillness. + +When Robin went into it she stood for a few moments looking about +her--looking and wondering. + +"Lord Coombe remembers everything," she said very slowly at last, +"--everything. He remembers." + +"He always did remember," said Dowie watching her. "That's it." + +"I did not know--at first," Robin said as slowly as before. "I do--now." + +In the evening she sat long before the fire and Dowie, sewing near her, +looked askance now and then at her white face with the lost eyes. It was +Dowie's own thought that they were "lost." She had never before seen +anything like them. She could not help glancing sideways at them as they +gazed into the red glow of the coal. What was her mind dwelling on? Was +she thinking of words to say? Would she begin to feel that they were far +enough from all the world--remote and all alone enough for words not to +be sounds too terrible to hear even as they were spoken? + +"Oh! dear Lord," Dowie prayed, "help her to ease her poor, timid young +heart that's so crushed with cruel weight." + +"You must go to bed early, my dear," she said at length. "But why don't +you get a book and read?" + +The lost eyes left the fire and met hers. + +"I want to talk," Robin said. "I want to ask you things." + +"I'll tell you anything you want to know," answered Dowie. "You're only +a child and you need an older woman to talk to." + +"I want to talk to you about--_me_," said Robin. She sat straight in her +chair, her hands clasped on her knee. "Do you know about--me, Dowie?" +she asked. + +"Yes, my dear," Dowie answered. + +"Tell me what Lord Coombe told you." + +Dowie put down her sewing because she was afraid her hands would tremble +when she tried to find the proper phrase in which to tell as briefly as +she could the extraordinary story. + +"He said that you were married to a young gentleman who was killed at +the Front--and that because you were both so young and hurried and upset +you perhaps hadn't done things as regular as you thought. And that you +hadn't the papers you ought to have for proof. And it might take too +much time to search for them now. And--and--Oh, my love, he's a good +man, for all you've hated him so! He won't let a child be born with +shame to blight it. And he's given you and it--poor helpless +innocent--his own name, God bless him!" + +Robin sat still and straight, with clasped hands on her knee, and her +eyes more lost than before, as she questioned Dowie remorselessly. There +was something she must know. + +"He said--and the Duchess said--that no one would believe me if I told +them I was married. Do _you_ believe me, Dowie? Would Mademoiselle +believe me--if she is alive--for Oh! I believe she is dead! Would you +_both_ believe me?" + +Dowie's work fell upon the rug and she held out both her comfortable +nursing arms, choking: + +"Come here, my lamb," she cried out, with suddenly streaming eyes. "Come +and sit on your old Dowie's knee like you used to do in the nursery." + +"You _do_ believe me--you _do_!" As she had looked in the nursery +days--the Robin who left her chair and was swept into the well known +embrace--looked now. She hid her face on Dowie's shoulder and clung to +her with shaking hands. + +"I prayed to Jesus Christ that you would believe me, Dowie!" she cried. +"And that Mademoiselle would come if she is not killed. I wanted you to +_know_ that it was true--I wanted you to _know_!" + +"That was it, my pet lamb!" Dowie kept hugging her to her breast "We'd +both of us know! We know _you_--we do! No one need prove things to us. +We _know_!" + +"It frightened me so to think of asking you," shivered Robin. "When you +came to Eaton Square I could not bear it. If your dear face had looked +different I should have died. But I couldn't go to bed to-night without +finding out. The Duchess and Lord Coombe are very kind and sorry for me +and they say they believe me--but I can't feel sure they really do. And +nobody else would. But you and Mademoiselle. You loved me always and I +loved you. And I prayed you would." + +Dowie knew how Mademoiselle had died--of the heap of innocent village +people on which she had fallen bullet-riddled. But she said nothing of +her knowledge. + +"Mademoiselle would say what I do and she would stay and take care of +you as I'm going to do," she faltered. "God bless you for asking me +straight out, my dear! I was waiting for you to speak and praying you'd +do it before I went to bed myself. I couldn't have slept a wink if you +hadn't." + +For a space they sat silent--Robin on her knee like a child drooping +against her warm breast. Outside was the night stillness of the moor, +inside the night stillness held within the thick walls of stone rooms +and passages, in their hearts the stillness of something which yet +waited--unsaid. + +At last-- + +"Did Lord Coombe tell you who--he was, Dowie?" + +"He said perhaps you would tell me yourself--if you felt you'd like me +to know. He said it was to be as you chose." + +Robin fumbled with a thin hand at the neck of her dress. She drew from +it a chain with a silk bag attached. Out of the bag she took first a +small folded package. + +"Do you remember the dry leaves I wanted to keep when I was so little?" +she whispered woefully. "I was too little to know how to save them. And +you made me this tiny silk bag." + +Dowie's face was almost frightened as she drew back to look. There was +in her motherly soul the sudden sense of panic she had felt in the +nursery so long ago. + +"My blessed child!" she breathed. "Not that one--after all that time!" + +"Yes," said Robin. "Look, Dowie--look." + +She had taken a locket out of the silk bag and she opened it and Dowie +looked. + +Perhaps any woman would have felt what she felt when she saw the face +which seemed to laugh rejoicing into hers, as if Life were such a +supernal thing--as if it were literally the blessed gift of God as all +the ages have preached to us even while they have railed at the burden +of living and called it cruel nothingness. The radiance in the eyes' +clearness, the splendid strength and joy in being, could have built +themselves into nothing less than such beauty as this. + +Dowie looked at it in dead silence, her breast heaving fast. + +"Oh! blessed God!" she broke out with a gasp. "Did they kill--that!" + +"Yes," said Robin, her voice scarcely more than a breath, "Donal." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Dowie put her to bed as she had done when she was a child, feeling as if +the days in the nursery had come back again. She saw gradually die out +of the white face the unnatural restraint which she had grieved over. It +had suggested the look of a girl who was not only desolate but afraid +and she wondered how long she had worn it and what she had been most +afraid of. + +In the depths of her comfortable being there lay hidden a maternal +pleasure in the nature of her responsibility. She had cared for young +mothers before, and that she should be called to watch over Robin, whose +child forlornness she had rescued, filled her heart with a glowing. As +she moved about the room quietly preparing for the comfort of the night +she knew that the soft dark of the lost eyes followed her and that it +was not quite so lost as it had looked in the church and on their +singularly silent journey. + +When her work was done and she turned to the bed again Robin's arms were +held out to her. + +"I want to kiss you, Dowie--I want to kiss you," she said with just the +yearning dwelling on the one word, which had so moved the good soul long +ago with its innocent suggestion of tender reverence for some sacred +rite. + +Dowie hurriedly knelt by the bedside. + +"Never you be frightened, my lamb--because you're so young and don't +know things," she whispered, holding her as if she were a baby. "Never +you let yourself be frightened for a moment. Your own Dowie's here and +always will be--and Dowie knows all about it." + +"Until you took me on your knee to-night," very low and in broken +phrases, "I was so lonely. I was as lonely as I used to be in the old +nursery before you and Mademoiselle came. Afterwards--" with a shudder, +"there were so many long, long nights. There--always--will be so many. +One after every day. I lie in my bed in the dark. And there is +_Nothing_! Oh! Dowie, _let_ me tell you!" her voice was a sweet longing +wail. "When Donal came back all the world was full and shining and warm! +It was full. There was no loneliness anywhere. We wanted nothing but +each other. And when he was gone there was only emptiness! And I was not +alive and I could not think. I can scarcely think now." + +"You'll begin to think soon, my lamb," Dowie whispered. "You've got +something to think of. After a while the emptiness won't be so big and +black." + +She ventured it very carefully. Her wise soul knew that the Emptiness +must come first--the awful world-old Emptiness which for an +endless-seeming time nothing can fill-- And all smug preachers of the +claims of life and duty must be chary of approaching those who stand +desolate gazing into it. + +"I could only _remember_," the broken heart-wringing voice went on. "And +it seemed as if the remembering was killing me over and over again-- It +is like that now. But in the Wood Lord Coombe said something +strange--which seemed to make me begin to think a little. Only it was +like beginning to try to write with a broken arm. I can't go on--I can +only think of Donal-- And be lonely--lonely--lonely." + +The very words--the mere sound of them in her own ears made her voice +trail away into bitter helpless crying--which would not stop. It was the +awful weeping of utter woe and weakness whose convulsive sobs go on and +on until they almost cease to seem human sounds. Dowie's practical +knowledge told her what she had to face. This was what she had guessed +at when she had known that there had been crying in the night. Mere +soothing of the tenderest would not check it. + +"I had been lonely--always-- And then the loneliness was gone. And +then--! If it had never gone--!" + +"I know, my dear, I know," said Dowie watching her with practised, +anxious eye. And she went away for a few moments and came back with an +unobtrusive calming draught and coaxed her into taking it and sat down +and prayed as she held the little hands which unknowingly beat upon the +pillow. Something of her steadiness and love flowed from her through her +own warm restraining palms and something in her tender steady voice +spoke for and helped her--though it seemed long and long before the +cruelty of the storm had lessened and the shadow of a body under the +bed-clothes lay deadly still and the heavy eyelids closed as if they +would never lift again. + +Dowie did not leave her for an hour or more but sat by her bedside and +watched. Like this had been the crying in the night. And she had been +alone. + + * * * * * + +As she sat and watched she thought deeply after her lights. She did not +think only of the sweet shattered thing she so well loved. She thought +much of Lord Coombe. Being a relic of a class which may be regarded as +forever extinct, her views on the subject of the rights and +responsibilities of rank were of an unswerving reverence verging on the +feudal. Even in early days her perfection of type was rare. To her +unwavering mind the remarkable story she had become a part of was almost +august in its subjection of ordinary views to the future of a great +house and its noble name. With the world falling to pieces and great +houses crumbling into nothingness, that this one should be rescued from +the general holocaust was a deed worthy of its head. But where was there +another man who would have done this thing as he had done it--remaining +totally indifferent to the ignominy which would fall upon his memory in +the years to come when the marriage was revealed. That the explanation +of his action would always be believed to be an unseemly and shameful +one was to her respectable serving-class mind a bitter thing. That it +would always be contemptuously said that a vicious elderly man had +educated the daughter of his mistress, that he might marry her and leave +an heir of her blooming youth, was almost worse than if he had been +known to have committed some decent crime like honest murder. Even the +servants' hall in the slice of a house, discussing the ugly whisper had +somewhat revolted at it and thought it "a bit too steep even for these +times." But he had plainly looked the whole situation in the face and +had made up his mind to do what he had done. He hadn't cared for +himself; he had only cared that the child who was to be born should be +his legitimatised successor and that there should remain after him a +Head of the House of Coombe. That such houses should have heads to +succeed to their dignities was a simple reverential belief of Dowie's +and--apart from all other feeling--the charge she had undertaken wore to +her somewhat the aspect of a religious duty. His lordship was as one who +had a place on a sort of altar. + +"It's because he's so high in his way that he can bear it," was her +thought. "He's so high that nothing upsets him. He's above +things--that's what he is." And there was something else too--something +she did not quite follow but felt vaguely moved by. What was happening +to England came into it--and something else that was connected with +himself in some way that was his own affair. In his long talk with her +he had said some strange things--though all in his own way. + +"Howsoever the tide of war turns, men and women will be needed as the +world never needed them before," was one of them. "This one small +unknown thing I want. It will be the child of my old age. I _want_ it. +Her whole being has been torn to pieces. Dr. Redcliff says that she +might have died before this if her delicate body had not been stronger +than it looks." + +"She has never been ill, my lord," Dowie had answered, "--but she is ill +now." + +"Save her--save _it_ for me," he broke out in a voice she had never +heard and with a face she had never seen. + +That in this plainly overwrought hour he should allow himself a moment +of forgetfulness drew him touchingly near to her. + +"My lord," she said, "I've watched over her since she was five. I know +the ways young things in her state need to have about them to give them +strength and help. Thank the Lord she's one of the loving ones and if we +can hold her until she--wakes up to natural feelings she'll begin to try +to live for the sake of what'll need her--and what's his as well as +hers." + +Of this she thought almost religiously as she sat by the bedside and +watched. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The doctor rode up the climbing moorland road the next morning and paid +a long visit to his patient. He was not portentous in manner and he did +not confine his conversation to the subject of symptoms. He however +included something of subtle cross examination in his friendly talk. The +girl's thinness, her sometimes panting breath and the hollow eyes made +larger by the black ring of her lashes startled him on first sight of +her. He found that the smallness of her appetite presented to Dowie a +grave problem. + +"I'm trying to coax good milk into her by degrees. She does her best. +But she can't eat." When they were alone she said, "I shall keep her +windows open and make her rest on her sofa near them. I shall try to get +her to walk out with me if her strength will let her. We can go slowly +and she'll like the moor. If we could stop the awful crying in the +night-- It's been shaking her to pieces for weeks and weeks-- It's the +kind that there's no checking when it once begins. It's beyond her poor +bit of strength to hold it back. I saw how hard she tried--for my sake. +It's the crying that's most dangerous of all." + +"Nothing could be worse," the doctor said and he went away with a grave +face, a deeply troubled man. + +When Dowie went back to the Tower room she found Robin standing at a +window looking out on the moorside. She turned and spoke and Dowie saw +that intuition had told her what had been talked about. + +"I will try to be good, Dowie," she said. "But it comes--it comes +because--suddenly I know all over again that I can never _see_ him any +more. If I could only _see_ him--even a long way off! But suddenly it +all comes back that I can never _see_ him again--Never!" + +Later she begged Dowie not to come to her in the night if she heard +sounds in her room. + +"It will not hurt you so much if you don't see me," she said. "I'm used +to being by myself. When I was at Eaton Square I used to hide my face +deep in the pillow and press it against my mouth. No one heard. But no +one was listening as you will be. Don't come in, Dowie darling. Please +don't!" + +All she wanted, Dowie found out as the days went by, was to be quiet and +to give no trouble. No other desires on earth had been left to her. Her +life had not taught her to want many things. And now--: + +"Oh! please don't be unhappy! If I could only keep you from being +unhappy--until it is over!" she broke out all unconsciously one day. And +then was smitten to the heart by the grief in Dowie's face. + +That was the worst of it all and sometimes caused Dowie's desperate hope +and courage to tremble on the brink of collapse. The child was thinking +that before her lay the time when it would be "all over." + +A patient who held to such thoughts as her hidden comfort did not give +herself much chance. + +Sometimes she lay for long hours on the sofa by the open window but +sometimes a restlessness came upon her and she wandered about the empty +rooms of the little castle as though she were vaguely searching for +something which was not there. Dowie furtively followed her at a +distance knowing that she wanted to be alone. The wide stretches of the +moor seemed to draw her. At times she stood gazing at them out of a +window, sometimes she sat in a deep window seat with her hands lying +listlessly upon her lap but with her eyes always resting on the farthest +line of the heather. Once she sat thus so long that Dowie crept out of +the empty stone chamber where she had been waiting and went and stood +behind her. At first Robin did not seem conscious of her presence but +presently she turned her head. There was a faintly bewildered look in +her eyes. + +"I don't know why--when I look at the edge where the hill seems to +end--it always seems as if there might be something coming from the +place we can't see--" she said in a helpless-sounding voice. "We can +only see the sky behind as if the world ended there. But I feel as if +something might be coming from the other side. The horizon always looks +like that--now. There must be so much--where there seems to be nothing +more. I want to go." + +She tried to smile a little as though at her own childish fancifulness +but suddenly a heavy shining tear fell on her hand. And her head dropped +and she murmured, "I'm sorry, Dowie," as if it were a fault. + +The Macaurs watched her from afar with their own special order of silent +interest. But the sight of the slowly flitting and each day frailer +young body began to move them even to the length of low-uttered +expression of fear and pity. + +"Some days she fair frights me passing by so slow and thin in her bit +black dress," Maggy said. "She minds me o' a lost birdie fluttering +about wi' a broken wing. She's gey young she is, to be a widow +woman--left like that." + +The doctor came up the moor road every day and talked more to Dowie than +to his patient. As the weeks went by he could not sanely be hopeful. +Dowie's brave face seemed to have lost some of its colour at times. She +asked eager questions but his answers did not teach her any new thing. +Yet he was of a modern school. + +"There was a time, Mrs. Dowson," he said, "when a doctor believed--or +thought he believed--that healing was carried in bottles. For thinking +men that time has passed. I know very little more of such a case as this +than you know yourself. You are practical and kind and watchful. You are +doing all that can be done. So am I. But I am sorry to say that it seems +as if only a sort of miracle--! If--as you said once--she would 'wake +up'--there would be an added chance." + +"Yes, sir," Dowie answered. "If she would. But it seems as if her mind +has stopped thinking about things that are to come. You see it in her +face. She can only remember. The days are nothing but dreams to her." + +Dowie had written weekly letters to Lord Coombe in accordance with his +request. She wrote a good clear hand and her method was as clear as her +calligraphy. He invariably gathered from her what he most desired to +know and learned that her courageous good sense was plainly to be +counted upon. From the first her respectful phrases had not attempted to +conceal from him the anxiety she had felt. + +"It was the way she looked and that I hadn't expected to see such a +change, that took the strength out of me the first time I saw her. And +what your lordship had told me. It seemed as if the two things together +were too much for her to face. I watch over her day and night though I +try to hide from her that I watch so close. If she could be made to eat +something, and to sleep, and not to break her little body to pieces with +those dreadful fits of crying, there would be something to hold on to. +But I shall hold on to her, my lord, whether there is anything to hold +on to or not." + +He knew she would hold on but as the weeks passed and she faithfully +told him what record the days held he saw that in each she felt that she +had less and less to grasp. And then came a letter which plainly could +not conceal ominous discouragement in the face of symptoms not to be +denied--increasing weakness, even more rapid loss of weight, and less +sleep and great exhaustion after the convulsions of grief. + +"It couldn't go on and not bring on the worst. It is my duty to warn +your lordship," the letter ended. + +For she had not "wakened up" though somehow Dowie had gone on from day +to day wistfully believing that it would be only "Nature" that she +should. Dowie had always believed strongly in "Nature." But at last +there grew within her mind the fearsome thought that somehow the very +look of her charge was the look of a young thing who had done with +Nature--and between whom and Nature the link had been broken. + +There were beginning to be young lambs on the hillside and Jock Macaur +was tending them and their mothers with careful shepherding. Once or +twice he brought a newborn and orphaned one home wrapped in his plaid +and it was kept warm by the kitchen fire and fed with milk by Maggy to +whom motherless lambs were an accustomed care. + +There was no lamb in his plaid on the afternoon when he startled Dowie +by suddenly appearing at the door of the room where she sat sewing-- It +was a thing which had never happened before. He had kept as closely to +his own part of the place as if there had been no means of egress from +the rooms he and Maggy lived in. His face sometimes wore an anxious look +when he brought back a half-dead lamb, and now though his plaid was +empty his weather-beaten countenance had trouble in it--so much trouble +that Dowie left her work quickly. + +"I was oot o' the moor and I heard a lamb cryin'," he said uncertainly. +"I thought it had lost its mither. It was cryin' pitifu'. I searched an' +couldna find it. But the cryin' went on. It was waur than a lamb's +cry--It was waur--" he spoke in reluctant jerks. "I followed until I +cam' to it. There was a cluster o' young rowans with broom and gorse +thick under them. The cryin' was there. It was na a lamb cryin'. It was +the young leddy--lyin' twisted on the heather. I daurna speak to her. It +was no place for a man body. I cam' awa' to ye, Mistress Dowson. You an' +Maggy maun go to her. I'll follow an' help to carry her back, if ye need +me." + +Dowie's colour left her. + +"I thought she was asleep on her bed," she said. "Sometimes she slips +away alone and wanders about a bit. But not far and I always follow her. +To-day I didn't know." + + * * * * * + +The sound like a lost lamb's crying had ceased when they reached her. +The worst was over but she lay on the heather shut in by the little +thicket of gorse and broom--white and with heavily closed lids. She had +not wandered far and had plainly crept into the enclosing growth for +utter seclusion. Finding it she had lost hold and been overwhelmed. That +was all. But as Jock Macaur carried her back to Darreuch, Dowie followed +with slow heavy feet and heart. They took her to the Tower room and laid +her on her sofa because she had faintly whispered. + +"Please let me lie by the window," as they mounted the stone stairs. + +"Open it wide," she whispered again when Macaur had left them alone. + +"Are you--are you short of breath, my dear?" Dowie asked opening the +window very wide indeed. + +"No," still in a whisper and with closed eyes. "But--when I am not so +tired--I want to--look--" + +She was silent for a few moments and Dowie stood by her side and watched +her. + +"--At the end of the heather," the faint voice ended its sentence after +a pause. "I feel as if--something is there." She opened her eyes, +"Something--I don't know what. 'Something.' Dowie!" frightened, "Are +you--crying?" + +Dowie frankly and helplessly took out a handkerchief and sat down beside +her. She had never done such a thing before. + +"You cry yourself, my lamb," she said. "Let Dowie cry a bit." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +And the next morning came the "waking up" for which Dowie had so long +waited and prayed. But not as Dowie had expected it or in the way she +hard thought "Nature." + +She had scarcely left her charge during the night though she had +pretended that she had slept as usual in an adjoining room. She stole in +and out, she sat by the bed and watched the face on the pillow and +thanked God that--strangely enough--the child slept. She had not dared +to hope that she would sleep, but before midnight she became still and +fell into a deep quiet slumber. It seemed deep, for she ceased to stir +and it was so quiet that once or twice Dowie became a little anxious and +bent over her to look at her closely and listen to her breathing. But, +though the small white face was always a touching sight, it was no +whiter than usual and her breathing though low and very soft was +regular. + +"But where the strength's to come from the good God alone knows!" was +Dowie's inward sigh. + +The clock had just struck one when she leaned forward again. What she +saw would not have disturbed her if she had not been overstrung by long +anxiety. But now--after the woeful day--in the middle of the night with +the echo of the clock's solitary sound still in the solitary room--in +the utter stillness of moor and castle emptiness she was startled almost +to fright. Something had happened to the pitiful face. A change had come +over it--not a change which had stolen gradually but a change which was +actually sudden. It was smiling--it had begun to smile that pretty smile +which was a very gift of God in itself. + +Dowie drew back and put her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she said "Can she +be--going--in her sleep?" + +But she was not going. Even Dowie's fright saw that in a few moments +more. Was it possible that a mist of colour was stealing over the +whiteness--or something near colour? Was the smile deepening and growing +brighter? Was that caught breath something almost like a little sob of a +laugh--a tiny ghost of a sound more like a laugh than any other sound on +earth? + +Dowie slid down upon her knees and prayed devoutly--clutching at the +robe of pity and holding hard--as women did in crowds nearly two +thousand years ago. + +"Oh, Lord Jesus," she was breathing behind the hands which hid her +face--"if she can dream what makes her smile like that, let her go on, +Lord Jesus--let her go on." + +When she rose to her chair again and seated herself to watch it almost +awed, it did not fade--the smile. It settled into a still radiance and +stayed. And, fearful of the self-deception of longing as she was, Dowie +could have sworn as the minutes passed that the mist of colour had been +real and remained also and even made the whiteness a less deathly thing. +And there was such a naturalness in the strange smiling that it radiated +actual peace and rest and safety. When the clock struck three and there +was no change and still the small face lay happy upon the pillow Dowie +at last even felt that she dare steal into her own room and lie down for +a short rest. She went very shortly thinking she would return in half an +hour at most, but the moment she lay down, her tired eyelids dropped and +she slept as she had not slept since her first night at Darreuch Castle. + + * * * * * + +When she wakened it was not with a start or sense of anxiety even +though she found herself sitting up in the broad morning light. She +wondered at her own sense of being rested and really not afraid. She +told herself that it was all because of the smile she had left on +Robin's face and remembered as her own eyes closed. + +She got up and stole to the partly opened door of the next room and +looked in. All was quite still. Robin herself seemed very still but she +was awake. She lay upon her pillow with a long curly plait trailing over +one shoulder--and she was smiling as she had smiled in her +sleep--softly--wonderfully. "I thank God for that," Dowie thought as she +went in. + +The next moment her heart was in her throat. + +"Dowie," Robin said and she spoke as quietly as Dowie had ever heard her +speak in all their life together, "Donal came." + +"Did he, my lamb?" said Dowie going to her quickly but trying to speak +as naturally herself. "In a dream?" + +Robin slowly shook her head. + +"I don't think it was a dream. It wasn't like one. I think he was here. +God sometimes lets them come--just sometimes--doesn't he? Since the War +there have been so many stories about things like that. People used to +come to see the Duchess and sit and whisper about them. Lady Maureen +Darcy used to go to a place where there was a woman--quite a poor +woman--who went into a kind of sleep and gave her messages from her +husband who was killed at Ličge only a few weeks after they were +married. The woman said he was in the room and Lady Maureen was quite +sure it was true because he told her true things no one knew but +themselves. She said it kept her from going crazy. It made her quite +happy." + +"I've heard of such things," said Dowie, valiantly determined to keep +her voice steady and her expression unalarmed. "Perhaps they are true. +Now that the other world is so crowded with those that found themselves +there sudden--perhaps they are crowded so close to earth that they try +to speak across to the ones that are longing to hear them. It might be. +Lie still, my dear, and I'll bring you a cup of good hot milk to drink. +Do you think you could eat a new-laid egg and a shred of toast?" + +"I will," answered Robin. "I _will_." + +She sat up in bed and the faint colour on her cheeks deepened and spread +like a rosy dawn. Dowie saw it and tried not to stare. She must not seem +to watch her too fixedly--whatsoever alarming thing was happening. + +"I can't tell you all he said to me," she went on softly. "There was too +much that only belonged to us. He stayed a long time. I felt his arms +holding me. I looked into the blue of his eyes--just as I always did. He +was not dead. He was not an angel. He was Donal. He laughed and made me +laugh too. He could not tell me now where he was. There was a reason. +But he said he could come because we belonged to each other--because we +loved each other so. He said beautiful things to me--" She began to +speak very slowly as if in careful retrospection. "Some of them were +like the things Lord Coombe said. But when Donal said them they seemed +to go into my heart and I understood them. He told me things about +England--needing new souls and new strong bodies--he loved England. He +said beautiful--beautiful things." + +Dowie made a magnificent effort to keep her eyes clear and her look +straight. It was a soldierly thing to do, for there had leaped into her +mind memories of the fears of the great physician who had taken charge +of poor young Lady Maureen. + +"I am sure he would do that--sure of it," she said without a tremor in +her voice. "It's only things like that he's thought of his whole life +through. And surely it was love that brought him back to you--both." + +She wondered if she was not cautious enough in saying the last word. But +her fear was a mistake. + +"Yes--_both_," Robin gave back with a new high bravery. "Both," she +repeated. "He will never be dead again. And I shall never be dead. When +I could not think, it used to seem as if I must be--perhaps I was +beginning to go crazy like poor Lady Maureen. I have come alive." + +"Yes, my lamb," answered Dowie with fine courage. "You look it. We'll +get you ready for your breakfast now. I will bring you the egg and +toast--a nice crisp bit of hot buttered toast." + +"Yes," said Robin. "He said he would come again and I know he will." + +Dowie bustled about with inward trembling. Whatsoever strange thing had +happened perhaps it had awakened the stunned instinct in the +girl--perhaps some change had begun to take place and she _would_ eat +the bit of food. That would be sane and healthy enough in any case. The +test would be the egg and the crisp toast--the real test. Sometimes a +patient had a moment of uplift and then it died out too quickly to do +good. + +But when she had been made ready and the tray was brought Robin ate the +small breakfast without shrinking from it, and the slight colour did not +die away from her cheek. The lost look was in her eyes no more, her +voice had a new tone. The exhaustion of the night before seemed +mysteriously to have disappeared. Her voice was not tired and she +herself was curiously less languid. Dowie could scarcely believe the +evidence of her ears when, in the course of the morning, she suggested +that they should go out together. + +"The moor is beautiful to-day," she said. "I want to know it better. It +seems as if I had never really looked at anything." + +One of the chief difficulties Dowie often found she was called upon to +brace herself to bear was that in these days she looked so pathetically +like a child. Her small heart-shaped face had always been rather like a +baby's, but in these months of her tragedy, her youngness at times +seemed almost cruel. If she had been ten years old she could scarcely +have presented herself to the mature vision as a more touching thing. It +seemed incredible to Dowie that she should have so much of life and +suffering behind and before her and yet look like that. It was not only +the soft curve and droop of her mouth and the lift of her eyes--there +was added to these something as indescribable as it was heart-moving. It +was the thing before which Donal--boy as he was--had trembled with love +and joy. He had felt its tenderest sacredness when he had knelt before +her in the Wood and kissed her feet, almost afraid of his own voice when +he poured forth his pleading. There were times when Dowie was obliged to +hold herself still for a moment or so lest it should break down her +determined calm. + +It was to be faced this morning when Robin came down in her soft felt +hat and short tweed skirt and coat for walking. Dowie saw Mrs. Macaur +staring through a window at her, with slightly open mouth, as if +suddenly struck with amazement which held in it a touch of shock. Dowie +herself was obliged to make an affectionate joke. + +"Your short skirts make such a child of you that I feel as if I was +taking you out to walk in the park, and I must hold your hand," she +said. + +Robin glanced down at herself. + +"They do make people look young," she agreed. "The Lady Downstairs +looked quite like a little girl when she went out in them. But it seems +so long since I was little." + + * * * * * + +She walked with Dowie bravely though they did not go far from the +Castle. It happened that they met the doctor driving up the road which +twisted in and out among the heath and gorse. For a moment he looked +startled but he managed to control himself quickly and left his dogcart +to his groom so that he might walk with them. His eyes--at once grave +and keen--scarcely left her as he strolled by her side. + +When they reached the Castle he took Dowie aside and talked anxiously +with her. + +"There is a change," he said. "Has anything happened which might have +raised her spirits? It looks like that kind of thing. She mustn't do too +much. There is always that danger to guard against in a case of sudden +mental stimulation." + +"She had a dream last night," Dowie began. + +"A dream!" he exclaimed disturbedly. "What kind of dream?" + +"The dream did it. I saw the change the minute I went to her this +morning," Dowie answered. "Last night she looked like a dying +thing--after one of her worst breakdowns. This morning she lay there +peaceful and smiling and almost rosy. She had dreamed that she saw her +husband and talked to him. She believed it wasn't a common dream--that +it wasn't a dream at all. She believes he really came to her." + +Doctor Benton rubbed his chin and there was serious anxiety in the +movement. Lines marked themselves on his forehead. + +"I am not sure I like that--not at all sure. In fact I'm sure I don't +like it. One can't say what it may lead to. It would be better not to +encourage her to dwell on it, Mrs. Dowson." + +"The one thing that's in my mind, sir," Dowie's respectfulness actually +went to the length of hinting at firmness--"is that it's best not to +_dis_courage her about anything just now. It brought a bit of natural +colour to her cheeks and it made her eat her breakfast--which she hasn't +been able to do before. They _must_ be fed, sir," with the seriousness +of experience. "You know that better than I do." + +"Yes--yes. They must have food." + +"She suggested the going out herself," said Dowie. "I'd thought she'd be +too weak and listless to move. And they _ought_ to have exercise." + +"They _must_ have exercise," agreed Doctor Benton, but he still rubbed +his chin. "Did she seem excited or feverish?" + +"No, sir, she didn't. That was the strange thing. It was me that was +excited though I kept quiet on the outside. At first it frightened me. I +was afraid of--what you're afraid of, sir. It was only her _not_ being +excited--and speaking in her own natural voice that helped me to behave +as sense told me I ought to. She was _happy_--that's what she looked and +what she was." + +She stopped a moment here and looked at the man. Then she decided to go +on because she saw chances that he might, to a certain degree, +understand. + +"When she told me that he was not dead when she saw him, she said that +she was not dead any more herself--that she had come alive. If believing +it will keep her feeling alive, sir, wouldn't you say it would be a +help?" + +The Doctor had ceased rubbing his chin but he looked deeply thoughtful. +He had several reasons for thoughtfulness in connection with the matter. +In the present whirl of strange happenings in a mad war-torn world, +circumstances which would once have seemed singular seemed so no longer +because nothing was any longer normal. He realised that he had been by +no means told all the details surrounding this special case, but he had +understood clearly that it was of serious importance that this girlish +creature's child should be preserved. He wondered how much more the +finely mannered old family nurse knew than he did. + +"Her vitality must be kept up-- Nothing could be worse than inordinate +grief," he said. "We must not lose any advantage. But she must be +closely watched." + +"I'll watch her, sir," answered Dowie. "And every order you give I'll +obey like clockwork. Might I take the liberty of saying that I believe +it'll be best if you don't mention the dream to her!" + +"Perhaps you are right. On the whole I think you are. It's not wise to +pay attention to hallucinations." + +He did not mention the dream to Robin, but his visit was longer than +usual. After it he drove down the moor thinking of curious things. The +agonised tension of the war, he told himself, seemed to be developing +new phases--mental, nervous, psychic, as well as physiological. What +unreality--or previously unknown reality--were they founded upon? It was +curious how much one had begun to hear of telepathy and visions. He +himself had been among the many who had discussed the psychopathic +condition of Lady Maureen Darcy, whose black melancholia had been +dispersed like a cloud after her visits to a little sewing woman who +lived over an oil dealer's shop in the Seven Sisters Road. He also was a +war tortured man mentally and the torments he must conceal beneath a +steady professional calm had loosened old shackles. + +"Good God! If there is help of any sort for such horrors of despair let +them take it where they find it," he found himself saying aloud to the +emptiness of the stretches of heath and bracken. "The old nurse will +watch." + + * * * * * + +Dowie watched faithfully. She did not speak of the dream, but as she +went about doing kindly and curiously wise things she never lost sight +of any mood or expression of Robin's and they were all changed ones. On +the night after she had "come alive" they talked together in the Tower +room somewhat as they had talked on the night of their arrival. + +A wind was blowing on the moor and making strange sounds as it whirled +round the towers and seemed to cry at the narrow windows. By the fire +there was drawn a broad low couch heaped with large cushions, and Robin +lay upon them looking into the red hollow of coal. + +"You told me I had something to think of," she said. "I am thinking now. +I shall always be thinking." + +"That's right, my dear," Dowie answered her with sane kindliness. + +"I will do everything you tell me, Dowie. I will not cry any more and I +will eat what you ask me to eat. I will sleep as much as I can and I +will walk every day. Then I shall get strong." + +"That's the way to look at things. It's a brave way," Dowie answered. +"What we want most is strength and good spirits, my dear." + +"That was one of the things Donal said," Robin went on quite naturally +and simply. "He told me I need not be ill. He said a rose was not ill +when a new bud was blooming on it. That was one of the lovely things he +told me. There were so many." + +"It was a beautiful thing, to be sure," said Dowie. + +To her wholly untranscendental mind, long trained by patent facts and +duties, any suggestion of the occult was vaguely ominous. She had spent +her early years among people who regarded such things with terror. In +the stories of her youth those who saw visions usually died or met with +calamity. That their visions were, as a rule, gruesome and included pale +and ghastly faces and voices hollow with portent was now a supporting +recollection. "He was not dead. He was not an angel. He was Donal," +Robin had said in her undoubting voice. And she had stood the test--that +real test of earthly egg and buttered toast. Dowie was a sensible and +experienced creature and had been prepared before the doctor's +suggestion to lose no advantage. If the child began to sleep and eat her +food, and the fits of crying could be controlled, why should she not be +allowed to believe what supported her? When her baby came she'd forget +less natural things. Dowie knew how her eyes would look as she bent over +it--how they would melt and glow and brood and how her childish mouth +would quiver with wonder and love. Who knew but that the Lord himself +had sent her that dream to comfort her because she had always been such +a loving, lonely little thing with nothing but tender goodness in her +whole body and soul? She had never had an untender thought of anybody +but for that queer dislike to his lordship-- And when you came to think +of what had been forced into her innocent mind about him, who +wondered?-- And she was beginning to see that differently too, in these +strange days. She was nothing now but softness and sorrow. It seemed +only right that some pity should be shown to her. + +Dowie noticed that she did not stay up late that night and that when she +went to bed she knelt a long time by her bedside saying her prayers. Oh! +What a little girl she looked, Dowie thought,--in her white night gown +with her long curly plait hanging down her back tied with a blue ribbon! +And she to be the mother of a child--that was no more than one herself! + +When all the prayers were ended and Dowie came back to the room to tuck +her in, her face was marvellously still-looking and somehow remotely +sweet as if she had not quite returned from some place of wonderful +calm. + +She nestled into the softness of the pillow with her hand under her +cheek and her lids dropped quietly at once. + +"Good night, Dowie dear," she murmured. "I am going to sleep." + +To sleep in a moment or so Dowie saw she went--with the soft suddenness +of a baby in its cradle. + +But it could not be said that Dowie slept soon. She found herself lying +awake listening to the wind whirling and crying round the tower. The +sound had something painfully human in it which made her conscious of a +shivering inward tremor. + +"It sounds as if something--that has been hurt and is cold and lonely +wants to get in where things are human and warm," was her troubled +thought. + +It was a thought so troubled that she could not rest and in spite of her +efforts to lie still she turned from side to side listening in an +abnormal mood. + +"I'm foolish," she whispered. "If I don't get hold of myself I shall +lose my senses. I don't feel like myself. Would it be too silly if I got +up and opened a tower window?" + +She actually got out of her bed quietly and crept to the tower room and +opened one. The crying wind rushed in and past her with a soft cold +sweep. It was not a bitter wind, only a piteous one. + +"It's--it's come in," she said, quaking a little, and went back to her +bed. + +When she awakened in the morning she realised that she must have fallen +asleep as quickly as Robin had, for she remembered nothing after her +head had touched the pillow. The wind had ceased and the daylight found +her herself again. + +"It was silly," she said, "but it did something for me as silliness will +sometimes. Walls and shut windows are nothing to them. If he came, he +came without my help. But it pacified the foolish part of me." + +She went into Robin's room with a sense of holding her breath, but firm +in her determination to breathe and speak as a matter of fact woman +should. + +Robin was standing at her window already dressed in the short skirt and +soft hat. She turned and showed that her thin small face was radiant. + +"I have been out on the moor. I wakened just after sunrise, and I heard +a skylark singing high up in the sky. I went out to listen and say my +prayers," she said. "You don't know what the moor is like, Dowie, until +you stand out on it at sunrise." + +She met Dowie's approach half way and slipped her arms round her neck +and kissed her several times. Dowie had for a moment quailed before a +thought that she looked too much like a young angel, but her arms held +close and her kisses were warm and human. + +"Well, well!" Dowie's pats on her shoulder took courage. "That's a good +sign--to get up and dress yourself and go into the open air. It would +give you an appetite if anything would." + +"Perhaps I can eat two eggs this morning," with a pretty laugh. +"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" and she took off her hat and laid it aside +on the lounge as if she meant to go out again soon. + +Dowie tried not to watch her too obviously, but she could scarcely keep +her eyes from her. She knew that she must not ask her questions at the +risk of "losing an advantage." She had, in fact, never been one of the +women who must ask questions. There was however something eerie in +remembering her queer feeling about the crying of the wind, silly though +she had decided it to be, and something which made it difficult to go +about all day knowing nothing but seeing strange signs. She had been +more afraid for Robin than she would have admitted even to herself. And +when the girl sat down at the table by the window overlooking the moor +and ate her breakfast without effort or distaste, it was far from easy +to look quite as if she had been doing it every morning. + +Then there was the look in her eyes, as if she was either listening to +something or remembering it. She went out twice during the day and she +carried it with her even when she talked of other things. Dowie saw it +specially when she lay down on the big lounge to rest. But she did not +lie down often or long at a time. It was as though she was no longer +unnaturally tired and languid. She did little things for herself, moving +about naturally, and she was pleased when a messenger brought flowers, +explaining that his lordship had ordered that they should be sent every +other day from the nearest town. She spent an hour filling crystal bowls +and clear slim vases with them and the look never left her. + +But she said nothing until she went out with Dowie at sunset. They only +walked for a short time and they did not keep to the road but went on to +the moor itself and walked among the heath and bracken. After a little +while they sat down and gave themselves up to the vast silence with here +and there the last evening twitter of a bird in it. The note made the +stillness greater. The flame of the sky was beyond compare and, after +gazing at it for a while, Dowie turned a slow furtive look on Robin. + +But Robin was looking at her with clear soft naturalness--loving and +untroubled and kindly sweet. + +"He came back, Dowie. He came again," she said. And her voice was still +as natural as the good woman had ever known it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + + +But even after this Dowie did not ask questions. She only watched more +carefully and waited to be told what the depths of her being most +yearned to hear. The gradually founded belief of her careful prosaic +life prevented ease of mind or a sense of security. She could not be +certain that it would be the part of wisdom to allow herself to feel +secure. She did not wish to arouse Doctor Benton's professional anxiety +by asking questions about Lady Maureen Darcy, but, by a clever and +adroitly gradual system of what was really cross examination which did +not involve actual questions, she drew from him the name of the woman +who had been Lady Maureen's chief nurse when the worst seemed impending. +It was by fortunate chance the name of a woman she had once known well +during a case of dangerous illness in an important household. She +herself had had charge of the nursery and Nurse Darian had liked her +because she had proved prompt and intelligent in an alarming crisis. +They had become friends and Dowie knew she might write to her and ask +for information and advice. She wrote a careful respectful letter which +revealed nothing but that she was anxious about a case she had temporary +charge of. She managed to have the letter posted in London and the +answer forwarded to her from there. Nurse Darian's reply was generously +full for a hard-working woman. It answered questions and was friendly. +But the woman's war work had plainly led her to see and reflect upon the +opening up of new and singular vistas. + +"What we hear oftenest is that the whole world is somehow changing," she +ended by saying. "You hear it so often that you get tired. But something +_is_ happening--something strange-- Even the doctors find themselves +facing things medical science does not explain. They don't like it. I +sometimes think doctors hate change more than anybody. But the +cleverest and biggest ones talk together. It's this looking at a thing +lying on a bed alive and talking perhaps, one minute--and _gone out_ the +next, that sets you asking yourself questions. In these days a nurse +seems to see nothing else day and night. You can't make yourself believe +they have gone far-- And when you keep hearing stories about them coming +back--knocking on tables, writing on queer boards--just any way so that +they can get at those they belong to--! Well, I shouldn't be sure myself +that a comforting dream means that a girl's mind's giving away. Of +course a nurse is obliged to watch--But Lady Maureen found +_something_--And she _was_ going mad and now she is as sane as I am." + +Dowie was vaguely supported because the woman was an intelligent person +and knew her business thoroughly. Nevertheless one must train one's eyes +to observe everything without seeming to do so at all. + +Every morning when the weather was fine Robin got up early and went out +on the moor to say her prayers and listen to the skylarks singing. + +"When I stand and turn my face up to the sky--and watch one going higher +into heaven--and singing all the time without stopping," she said, "I +feel as if the singing were carrying what I want to say with it. +Sometimes he goes so high that you can't see him any more-- He's not +even a little speck in the highest sky-- Then I think perhaps he has +gone in and taken my prayer with him. But he always comes back. And +perhaps if I could understand he could tell me what the answer is." + +She ate her breakfast each day and was sweetly faithful to her promise +to Dowie in every detail. Dowie used to think that she was like a child +who wanted very much to learn her lesson well and follow every rule. + +"I want to be good, Dowie," she said once. "I should like to be very +good. I am so _grateful_." + +Doctor Benton driving up the moor road for his daily visits made careful +observation of every detail of her case and pondered in secret. The +alarming thinness and sharpening of the delicate features was he saw, +actually becoming less marked day by day; the transparent hands were +less transparent; the movements were no longer languid. + +"She spends most of the day out of doors when the weather's decent," +Dowie said. "She eats what I give her. And she sleeps." + +Doctor Benton asked many questions and the answers given seemed to +provide him with food for reflection. + +"Has she spoken of having had the dream again?" he inquired at last. + +"Yes, sir," was Dowie's brief reply. + +"Did she say it was the same dream?" + +"She told me her husband had come back. She said nothing more." + +"Has she told you that more than once?" + +"No, sir. Only once so far." + +Doctor Benton looked at the sensible face very hard. He hesitated before +he put his next question. + +"But you think she has seen him since she spoke to you? You feel that +she might speak of it again--at almost any time?" + +"She might, sir, and she might not. It may seem like a sacred thing to +her. And it's no business of mine to ask her about things she'd perhaps +rather not talk about." + +"Do you think that she believes that she sees her husband every night?" + +"I don't know _what_ I think, sir," said Dowie in honourable distress. + +"Well neither do I for that matter," Benton answered brusquely. "Neither +do thousands of other people who want to be honest with themselves. +Physically the effect of this abnormal fancy is excellent. If this goes +on she will end by being in a perfectly normal condition." + +"That's what I'm working for, sir," said Dowie. + +Whereupon Dr. Benton went away and thought still stranger and deeper +things as he drove home over the moor road which twisted through the +heather. + + * * * * * + +The next day's post delivered by Macaur himself brought as it did weekly +a package of books and carefully chosen periodicals. Robin had, before +this, not been equal even to looking them over and Dowie had arranged +them neatly on shelves in the Tower room. + +To-day when the package was opened Robin sat down near the table on +which they were placed and began to look at them. + +Out of the corner of her eye as she arranged books decorously on a shelf +Dowie saw the still transparent hand open first one book and then +another. At last it paused at a delicately coloured pamphlet. It was the +last alluring note of modern advertisement, sent out by a firm which +made a specialty of children's outfits and belongings. It came from an +elect and expensive shop which prided itself on its dainty presentation +of small beings attired in entrancing garments such as might have been +designed for fairies and elves. + +"If she begins to turn over the pages she'll go on. It'll be just +Nature," Dowie yearned. + +The awakening she had thought Nature would bring about was not like the +perilous miracle she had seen take place and had watched tremulously +from hour to hour. Dreams, however much one had to thank God for them, +were not exactly "Nature." They were not the blessed healing and +strengthening she felt familiar with. You were never sure when they +might melt away into space and leave only emptiness behind them. + +"But if she would wake up the other way it would be healthy--just +healthy and to be depended upon," was her thought. Robin turned over the +leaves in no hurried way. She had never carelessly turned over the +leaves of her picture books in her nursery. As she had looked at her +picture books she looked at this one. There were pages given to the +tiniest and most exquisite things of all, and it was the illustrations +of these, Dowie's careful sidelong eye saw she had first been attracted +by. + +"These are for very little--ones?" she said presently. + +"Yes. For the new ones," answered Dowie. + +There was moment or so of silence. + +"How little--how little!" Robin said softly. She rose softly and went to +her couch and lay down on it. She was very quiet and Dowie wondered if +she were thinking or if she were falling into a doze. She wished she had +looked at the pamphlet longer. As the weeks had gone by Dowie had even +secretly grieved a little at her seeming unconsciousness of certain +tender things. If she had only looked at it a little longer. + + * * * * * + +"Was there a sound of movement in the next room?" + +The thought awakened Dowie in the night. She did not know what the hour +was, but she was sure of the sound as soon as she was fully awake. Robin +had got up and was crossing the corridor to the Tower room. + +"Does she want something? What could she want? I must go to her." + +She must never quite lose sight of her or let her be entirely out of +hearing. Perhaps she was walking in her sleep. Perhaps the dream-- Dowie +was a little awed. Was he with her? In obedience to a weird impulse she +always opened a window in the Tower room every night before going to +bed. She had left it open to-night. + +It was still open when she entered the room herself. + +There was nothing unusual in the aspect of the place but that Robin was +there and it was just midnight. She was not walking in her sleep. She +was awake and standing by the table with the pamphlet in her hand. + +"I couldn't go to sleep," she said. "I kept thinking of the little +things in this book. I kept seeing them." + +"That's quite natural," Dowie answered. "Sit down and look at them a +bit. That'll satisfy you and you'll sleep easy enough. I must shut the +window for you." + +She shut the window and moved a book or so as if such things were +usually done at midnight. She went about in a quiet matter-of-fact way +which was even gentler than her customary gentleness because in these +days, while trying to preserve a quite ordinary demeanour, she felt as +though she must move as one would move in making sure that one would not +startle a bird one loved. + +Robin sat and looked at the pictures. When she turned a page and looked +at it she turned it again and looked at it with dwelling eyes. Presently +she ceased turning pages and sat still with the book open on her lap as +if she were thinking not only of what she held but of something else. + +When her eyes lifted to meet Dowie's there was a troubled wondering look +in them. + +"It's so strange--I never seemed to think of it before," the words came +slowly. "I forgot because I was always--remembering." + +"You'll think now," Dowie answered. "It's only Nature." + +"Yes--it's only Nature." + +The touch of her hand on the pamphlet was a sort of caress--it was a +touch which clung. + +"Dowie," timidly. "I want to begin to make some little clothes like +these. Do you think I can?" + +"Well, my dear," answered Dowie composedly--no less so because it was +past midnight and the stillness of moor and deserted castle rooms was +like a presence in itself. "I taught you to sew very neatly before you +were twelve. You liked to do it and you learned to make beautiful small +stitches. And Mademoiselle taught you to do fine embroidery. She'd +learned it in a convent herself and I never saw finer work anywhere." + +"I did like to do it," said Robin. "I never seemed to get tired of +sitting in my little chair in the bay window where the flowers grew, and +making tiny stitches." + +"You had a gift for it. Not all girls have," said Dowie. "Sometimes when +you were embroidering a flower you didn't want to leave it to take your +walk." + +"I am glad I had a gift," Robin took her up. "You see I want to make +these little things with my own hands. I don't want them sent up from +London. I don't want them bought. Look at this, Dowie." + +Dowie went to her side. Her heart was quickening happily as it beat. + +Robin touched a design with her finger. + +"I should like to begin by making that," she suggested. "Do you think +that if I bought one for a pattern I could copy it?" + +Dowie studied it with care. + +"Yes," she said. "You could copy it and make as many more as you liked. +They need a good many." + +"I am glad of that," said Robin. "I should like to make a great many." +The slim fingers slid over the page. "I should like to make that +one--and that--and that." Her face, bent over the picture, wore its +touching _young_ look thrilled with something new. "They are so +_pretty_--they are so pretty," she murmured like a dove. + +"They're the prettiest things in the world," Dowie said. "There never +was anything prettier." + +"It must be wonderful to make them and to know all the time you are +putting in the tiny stitches, that they are for something little--and +warm--and alive!" + +"Those that have done it never forget it," said Dowie. Robin lifted her +face, but her hands still held the book with the touch which clung. + +"I am beginning to realise what a strange life mine has been," she said. +"Don't you think it has, Dowie? I haven't known things. I didn't know +what mothers were. I never knew another child until I met Donal in the +Gardens. No one had ever kissed me until he did. When I was older I +didn't know anything about love and marrying--really. It seemed only +something one read about in books until Donal came. You and Mademoiselle +made me happy, but I was like a little nun." She paused a moment and +then said thoughtfully, "Do you know, Dowie, I have never touched a +baby?" + +"I never thought of it before," Dowie answered with a slightly caught +breath, "but I believe you never have." + +The girl leaned forward and her own light breath came a shade more +quickly, and the faint colour on her cheek flickered into a sweeter warm +tone. + +"Are they very soft, Dowie?" she asked--and the asking was actually a +wistful thing. "When you hold them do they feel very light--and +soft--and warm? When you kiss them isn't it something like kissing a +little flower?" + +"That's what it is," said Dowie firmly as one who knows. "A baby that's +loved and taken care of is just nothing but fine soft lawns and white +downiness with the scent of fresh violets under leaves in the rain." + +A vaguely dreamy smile touched Robin's face and she bent over the +pictures again. + +"I felt as if they must be like that though I had never held one," she +murmured. "And Donal--told me." She did not say when he had told her but +Dowie knew. And unearthly as the thing was, regarded from her +standpoint, she was not frightened, because she said mentally to +herself, what was happening was downright healthy and no harm could come +of it. She felt safe and her mind was at ease even when Robin shut the +little book and placed it on the table again. + +"I'll go to bed again," she said. "I shall sleep now." + +"To be sure you will," Dowie said. + +And they went out of the Tower room together, but before she followed +her Dowie slipped aside and quietly opened the window. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + + +Coombe House had been transformed into one of the most practical nursing +homes in London. The celebrated ballroom and picture gallery were filled +with cots; a spacious bedroom had become a perfectly equipped operating +room; nurses and doctors moved everywhere with quiet swiftness. Things +were said to be marvellously well done because Lord Coombe himself held +reins which diplomatically guided and restrained amateurishness and +emotional infelicities. + +He spent most of his time, when he was in the house, in the room on the +entrance floor where Mademoiselle had found him when she had come to him +in her search for Robin. + +He had faced ghastly hours there as the war news struck its hideous +variant note from day to day. Every sound which rolled through the +street had its meaning for him, and there were few which were not +terrible. They all meant inhuman struggle, inhuman suffering, inhuman +passions, and wounds or death. He carried an unmoved face and a +well-held head through the crowded thoroughfares. The men in the cots in +his picture gallery and his ballroom were the better for the outward +calm he brought when he sat and talked to them, but he often hid a mad +fury in his breast or a heavy and sick fatigue. + +Even in London a man saw and heard and was able, if he had an +imagination, to visualise too much to remain quite normal. He had seen +what was left of strong men brought back from the Front, men who could +scarcely longer be counted as really living human beings; he had talked +to men on leave who had a hideous hardness in their haggard eyes and who +did not know that they gnawed at their lips sometimes as they told the +things they had seen. He saw the people going into the churches and +chapels. He sometimes went into such places himself and he always found +there huddled forms kneeling in the pews, even when no service was being +held. Sometimes they were men, sometimes women, and often they writhed +and sobbed horribly. He did not know why he went in; his going seemed +only part of some surging misery. + +He heard weird stories again and again of occult happenings. He had been +told all the details of Lady Maureen's case and of a number of other +cases somewhat resembling it. He was of those who have advanced through +experience to the point where entire disbelief in anything is not easy. +This was the more so because almost all previously accepted laws had +been shaken as by an earthquake. He had fallen upon a new sort of book +drifting about. He had had such books put into his hands by +acquaintances, some of whom were of the impressionable hysteric order, +but many of whom were as analytically minded as himself. He found much +of such literature in the book shops. He began to look over the best +written and ended by reading them with deep attention. He was amazed to +discover that for many years profoundly scientific men had been +seriously investigating and experimenting with mysteries unexplainable +by the accepted laws of material science. They had discussed, argued and +written grave books upon them. They had been doing all this before any +society for psychical research had founded itself and the intention of +new logic was to be scientific rather than psychological. They had +written books, scattered through the years, on mesmerism, hypnosis, +abnormal mental conditions, the powers of suggestion, even unexplored +dimensions and in modern days psychotherapeutics. + +"What has amazed me is my own ignorance of the prolonged and serious +nature of the investigation of an astonishing subject," he said in +talking with the Duchess. "To realise that analytical minds have been +doing grave work of which one has known nothing is an actual shock to +one's pride. I suppose the tendency would have been to pooh-pooh it. The +cheap, modern popular form is often fantastic and crude, but there +remains the fact that it all contains truths not to be explained by the +rules we have always been familiar with." + +The Duchess had read the book he had brought her and held it in her +hands. + +"Perhaps the time has come, in which we are to learn the new ones," she +said. + +"Perhaps we are being forced to learn them--as a result of our +pooh-poohing," was his answer. "Some of us may learn that clear-cut +disbelief is at least indiscreet." + +Therefore upon a certain morning he sat long in reflection over a letter +which had arrived from Dowie. He read it a number of times. + + * * * * * + +"I don't know what your lordship may think," Dowie said and he felt she +held herself with a tight rein. "If I may say so, it's what's going to +come out of it that matters and not what any of us think of it. So far +it seems as if a miracle had happened. About a week ago she wakened in +the morning looking as I'd been afraid she'd never look again. There was +actually colour in her thin little face that almost made it look not so +thin. There was a light in her eyes that quite startled me. She lay on +her bed and smiled like a child that's suddenly put out of pain. She +said--quite quiet and natural--that she'd seen her husband. She said he +had _come_ and talked to her a long time and that it was not a dream, +and he was not an angel--he was himself. At first I was terrified by a +dreadful thought that her poor young mind had given way. But she had no +fever and she was as sweet and sensible as if she was talking to her +Dowie in her own nursery. And, my lord, this is what does matter. She +sat up and _ate her breakfast_ and said she would take a walk with me. +And walk she did--stronger and better than I'd have believed. She had a +cup of tea and a glass of milk and a fresh egg and a slice of hot +buttered toast. That's what I hold on to, my lord--without any thinking. +I daren't write about it at first because I didn't trust it to last. But +she has wakened in the same way every morning since. And she's eaten the +bits of nice meals I've put before her. I've been careful not to put her +appetite off by giving her more than a little at a time. And she's slept +like a baby and walked every day. I believe she thinks she sees Captain +Muir every night. I wouldn't ask questions, but she spoke of it once +again to me. + +"Your obedient servant, +SARAH ANN DOWSON." + +Lord Coombe sat in interested reflection. He felt curiously uplifted +above the rolling sounds in the street and the headlines of the pile of +newspapers on the table. + +"If it had not been for the tea and egg and buttered toast she would +have been sure the poor child was mad." He thought it out. "An egg and a +slice of buttered toast guarantee even spiritual things. Why not? We are +material creatures who have only material sight and touch and taste to +employ as arguments. I suppose that is why tables are tipped, and +banjos fly about for beginners. It's because we cannot see other things, +and what we cannot see-- Oh! fools that we are! The child said he was +not an angel--he was himself. Why not? Where did he come from? +Personally I believe that he _came_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + + +"It was Lord Coombe who sent the book," said Robin. + +She was sitting in the Tower room, watching Dowie open the packages +which had come from London. She herself had opened the one which held +the models and she was holding a tiny film of lawn and fine embroidery +in her hands. Dowie could see that she was quite unconscious that she +loosely held it against her breast as if she were nursing it. + +"It's his lordship's way to think of things," the discreet answer came +impersonally. + +Robin looked slowly round the small and really quite wonderful room. + +"You know I said that, the first night we came here." + +"Yes?" Dowie answered. + +Robin turned her eyes upon her. They were no longer hollowed, but they +still looked much too large. + +"Dowie," she said. "He _knows_ things." + +"He always did," said Dowie. "Some do and some don't." + +"He _knows_ things--as Donal does. The secret things you can't talk +about--the meaning of things." + +She went on as if she were remembering bit by bit. "When we were in the +Wood in the dark, he said the first thing that made my mind begin to +move--almost to think. That was because he _knew_. Knowing things made +him send the book." + +The fact was that he knew much of which it was not possible for him to +speak, and in passing a shop window he had been fantastically arrested +by a mere pair of small sleeves--the garment to which they belonged +having by chance so fallen that they seemed to be tiny arms holding +themselves out in surrendering appeal. They had held him a moment or so +staring and then he had gone into the shop and asked for their +catalogue. + +"Yes, he knew," Dowie replied. + +A letter had been written to London signed by Dowie and the models and +patterns had been sent to the village and brought to the castle by Jock +Macaur. Later there had come rolls of fine flannel and lawn, with +gossamer thread and fairy needles and embroidery floss. Then the sewing +began. + +Doctor Benton had gradually begun to look forward to his daily visits +with an interest stimulated by a curiosity become eager. The most casual +looker-on might have seen the change taking place in his patient day by +day and he was not a casual looker-on. Was the improvement to be relied +upon? Would the mysterious support suddenly fail them? + +"What in God's name should we do if it did?" he broke out unconsciously +aloud one day when Dowie and he were alone together. + +"If it did what, sir?" she asked. + +"If it stopped--the dream?" + +Dowie understood. By this time she knew that, when he asked questions, +took notes and was professionally exact, he had ceased to think of Robin +merely as a patient. She had touched him in some unusual way which had +drawn him within the circle of her innocent woe. He was under the spell +of her pathetic youngness which made Dowie herself feel as if they were +watching over a child called upon to bear something it was unnatural for +a child to endure. + +"It won't stop," she said obstinately, but she lost her ruddy colour +because she was not sure. + +But after the sewing began there grew up within her a sort of courage. +A girl whose material embodiment has melted away until she has worn the +aspect of a wraith is not restored to normal bloom in a week. But what +Dowie seemed to see was the lamp of life relighted and the first +flickering flame strengthening to a glow. The hands which fitted +together on the table in the Tower room delicate puzzles in bits of lawn +and paper, did not in these days tremble with weakness. Instead of the +lost look there had returned to the young doe's eyes the pretty trusting +smile. The girl seemed to smile as if to herself nearly all the time, +Dowie thought, and often she broke into a happy laugh at her own small +blunders--and sometimes only at the sweet littleness of the things she +was making. + +One fact revealed itself clearly to Dowie, which was that she had lost +all sense of the aspect which the dream must wear to others than +herself. This was because there had been no others than Dowie who had +uttered no suggestion of doubt and had never touched upon the subject +unless it had been first broached by Robin herself. She had hidden her +bewilderment and anxieties and had outwardly accepted the girl's own +acceptance of the situation. + +Of the incident of the sewing Lord Coombe had been informed later with +other details. + +"She sits and sews and sews," wrote Dowie. "She sewed beautifully even +before she was out of the nursery. I have never seen a picture of a +little saint sewing. If I had, perhaps I should say she looked like it." + +Coombe read the letter to his old friend at Eaton Square. + +There was a pause as he refolded it. After the silence he added as out +of deep thinking, "I wish that I could see her." + +"So do I," the Duchess said. "So do I. But if I were to go to her, +questioning would begin at once." + +"My going to Darreuch would attract no attention. It never did after the +first year. But she has not said she wished to see me. I gave my word. I +shall never see her again unless she asks me to come. She does not need +me. She has Donal." + +"What do you believe?" she asked. + +"What do _you_ believe?" he replied. + +After a moment of speculative gravity came her reply. + +"As without proof I believed in the marriage, so without proof I believe +that in some mysterious way he comes to her--God be thanked!" + +"So do I," said Coombe. "We are living in a changing world and new +things are happening. I do not know what they are, but they shake me +inwardly." + +"You want to see her because--?" the Duchess put it to him. + +"Perhaps I am changing with the rest of the world, or it may be that +instincts which have always been part of me have been shaken to the +surface of my being. Perhaps I was by nature an effusively affectionate +and domestic creature. I cannot say that I have ever observed any signs +of the tendency, but it may have lurked secretly within me." + +"It caused you to rescue a child from torment and watch over its +helplessness as if it had been your own flesh and blood," interposed the +Duchess. + +"It may have been. Who knows? And now the unnatural emotional upheaval +of the times has broken down all my artificialities. I feel old and +tired--perhaps childish. Shrines are being torn down and blown to pieces +all over the world. And I long for a quite simple shrine to cleanse my +soul before. A white little soul hidden away in peace, and sitting +smiling over her sewing of small garments is worth making a pilgrimage +to. Do you remember the childish purity of her eyelids? I want to see +them dropped down as she sews. I want to _see_ her." + +"Alixe--and her children--would have been your shrine." The Duchess +thought it out slowly. + +"Yes." + +He was the last of men to fall into an unconventional posture, but he +dropped forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees, his forehead in +his hands. + +"If she lives and the child lives I shall long intolerably to see them. +As her mother seemed to live in Alixe's exquisite body without its soul, +so Alixe's soul seems to possess this child's body. Do I appear to be +talking nonsense? Things without precedent have always been supposed to +be nonsense." + +"We are not so sure of that as we used to be," commented the Duchess. + +"I shall long to be allowed to be near them," he added. "But I may go +out of existence without seeing them at all. I gave my word." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + + +After the first day of cutting out patterns from the models and finely +sewing tiny pieces of lawn together, Dowie saw that, before going to her +bedroom for the night, Robin began to gather together all she had done +and used in doing her work. She had ordered from London one of the +pretty silk-lined lace-frilled baskets women are familiar with, and she +neatly folded and laid her sewing in it. She touched each thing with +fingers that lingered; she smoothed and once or twice patted something. +She made exquisitely orderly little piles. Her down-dropped white lids +quivered with joy as she did it. When she lifted them to look at Dowie +her eyes were like those of a stray young spirit. + +"I am going to take them into my room," she said. "I shall take them +every night. I want to keep them on a chair quite near me so that I can +put out my hand and touch them." + +"Yes, my lamb," Dowie agreed cheerfully. But she knew she was going to +hear something else. And this would be the third time. + +"I want to show them to Donal." The very perfection of her naturalness +gave Dowie a cold chill, even while she thanked God. She had shivered +inwardly when she had opened the Tower room window, and so she shivered +now despite her serene exterior. A simple unexalted body could not but +think of those fragments which were never even found. And she, standing +there with her lips and eyes smiling, just like any other radiant girl +mother whose young husband is her lover, enraptured and amazed by this +new miracle of hers! + +Robin touched her with the tip of her finger. + +"It can't be only a dream, Dowie," she said. "He's too real. I am too +real. We are too happy." She hesitated a second. "If he were here at +Darreuch in the daytime--I should not always know where he had been when +he was away. Only his coming back would matter. He can't tell me now +just where he comes from. He says 'Not yet.' But he comes. Every night, +Dowie." + + * * * * * + +Every day she sewed in the Tower room, her white eyelids drooping over +her work. Each night the basket was carried to her room. And each day +Dowie watched with amazement the hollows in her temples and cheeks and +under her eyes fill out, the small bones cover themselves, the thinned +throat grow round with young tissue and smooth with satin skin. Her hair +became light curled silk again; the faint colour deepened into the +Jacqueminot glow at which passers by had turned to look in the street +when she was little more than a baby. But she never talked of the dream. +The third time was the last for many weeks. + +Between Doctor Benton and Dowie there grew up an increased reserve +concerning the dream. Never before had the man encountered an experience +which so absorbed him. He was a student of the advanced order. He also +had seen the books which had fallen into the hands of Coombe--some the +work of scientific men--some the purely commercial outcome of the need +of the hour written by the jackals of the literary profession. He would +have been ready to sit by the bedside of his patient through the night +watching over her sleep, holding her wrist with fingers on her pulse. +Even his most advanced thinking involuntarily harked back to pulse and +temperature and blood pressure. The rapidity of the change taking place +in the girl was abnormal, but it expressed itself physically as well as +mentally. How closely involved physiology and psychology were after all! +Which was which? Where did one end and the other begin? Where was the +line drawn? Was there a line at all? He had seen no chances for the +apparently almost dying young thing when he first met her. She could not +have lived through what lay before her. She had had a dream which she +believed was real, and, through the pure joy and comfort of it, the life +forces had begun to flow through her being and combine to build actual +firm tissue and supply blood cells. The results were physical enough. +The inexplicable in this case was that the curative agency was that she +believed that her husband, who had been blown to atoms on the battle +field, came to her alive each night--talked with her--held her in warm +arms. Nothing else had aided her. And there you were--thrown upon +occultism and what not! + +He became conscious that, though he would have been glad to question +Dowie daily and closely, a certain reluctance of mind held him back. +Also he realised that, being a primitive though excellent woman, Dowie +herself was secretly awed into avoidance of the subject. He believed +that she knelt by her bedside each night in actual fear, but faithfully +praying that for some months at least the dream might be allowed to go +on. Had not he himself involuntarily said, + +"She is marvellously well. We have nothing to fear if this continues." + +It did continue and her bloom became a thing to marvel at. And not her +bloom alone. Her strength increased with her blooming until no one could +have felt fear for or doubt of her. She walked upon the moor without +fatigue, she even worked in a garden Jock Macaur had laid out for her +inside the ruined walls of what had once been the castle's banquet hall. +So much of her life had been spent in London that wild moor and sky and +the growing of things thrilled her. She ran in and out and to and fro +like a little girl. There seemed no limit to the young vigour that +appeared day by day to increase rather than diminish. + +"It's a wonderful thing and God be thankit," said Mrs. Macaur. + +Only Dowie in secret trembled sometimes before the marvel of her. As +Doctor Benton had imagined, she prayed forcefully. + +"Lord, forgive me if I am a sinner--but for Christ's sake don't take the +strange thing away from her until she's got something to hold on to. +What would she do-- What could she!" + +Robin came into the Tower room on a fair morning carrying her pretty +basket as she always did. She put it down on its table and went and +stood a few minutes at a window looking out. The back of her neck, Dowie +realised, was now as slenderly round and velvet white as it had been +when she had dressed her hair on the night of the Duchess' dance. Dowie +did not know that its loveliness had been poor George's temporary +undoing; she only thought of it as a sign of the wonderful change. It +had been waxen pallid and had shown piteous hollows. + +She turned about and spoke. + +"Dowie, dear, I am going to write to Lord Coombe." + +Dowie's heart hastened its beat and she herself being conscious of the +fact, hastened to answer in an unexcited manner. + +"That'll be nice, my dear. His lordship'll be glad to get the good news +you can give him." + +She asked herself if she would not perhaps tell her something--something +which would make the fourth time. + +"Perhaps he's asked her to do it," she thought. + +But Robin said nothing which could make a fourth time. After she had +eaten her breakfast she sat down and wrote a letter. It did not seem a +long one and when she had finished it she sent it to the post by Jock +Macaur. + + * * * * * + +There had been dark news both by land and sea that day, and Coombe had +been out for many hours. He did not return to Coombe House until late in +the evening. He was tired almost beyond endurance, and his fatigue was +not merely a thing of muscle and nerve. After he sat down it was some +time before he even glanced at the letters upon his writing table. + +There were always a great many and usually a number of them were +addressed in feminine handwriting. His hospital and other war work +brought him numerous letters from women. Even their most impatient +masculine opponents found themselves admitting that the women were being +amazing. + +Coombe was so accustomed to opening such letters that he felt no +surprise when he took up an envelope without official lettering upon it, +and addressed in a girlish hand. Girls were being as amazing as older +women. + +But this was not a letter about war work or Red Cross efforts. It was +Robin's letter. It was not long and was as simple as a school girl's. +She had never been clever--only exquisite and adorable, and never dull +or stupid. + +"Dear Lord Coombe, + +"You were kind enough to say that you would come to see me when I asked +you. Please will you come now? I hope I am not asking you to take a long +journey when you are engaged in work too important to leave. If I am +please pardon me, and I will wait until you are less occupied. + +"Robin." + +That was all. Coombe sat and gazed at it and read it several times. The +thing which had always touched him most in her was her simple obedience +to the laws about her. Curiously it had never seemed insipid--only a +sort of lovely desire to be in harmony with all near her--things and +people alike. It had been an innocent modesty which could not express +rebellion. Her lifelong repelling of himself had been her one variation +from type. Even that had been quiet except in one demonstration of her +babyhood when she had obstinately refused to give him her hand. When +Fate's self had sprung upon her with a wild-beast leap she had only lain +still and panted like a young fawn in the clutch of a lion. She had only +thought of Donal and his child. He remembered the eyes she had lifted to +his own when he had put the ring on her finger in the shadow-filled old +church--and he had understood that she was thinking of the warm young +hand clasp and the glow of eyes she had looked up into when love and +youth had stood in his place. + +The phrasing of the letter brought it all back. His precision of mind +and resolve would have enabled him to go to his grave without having +looked on her face again--but he was conscious that she was an integral +part of his daily thought and planning and that he longed inexpressibly +to see her. He sometimes told himself that she and the child had become +a sort of obsession with him. He believed that this was because Alixe +had shown the same soft obedience to fate, and the same look in her +sorrowful young eyes. Alixe had been then as she was now--but he had not +been able to save her. She had died and he was one of the few abnormal +male creatures who know utter loneliness to the end of life because of +utter loss. He knew such things were not normal. It had seemed that +Robin would die, though not as Alixe did. If she lived and he might +watch over her, there lay hidden in the back of his mind a vague feeling +that it would be rather as though his care of all detail--his power to +palliate--to guard--would be near the semblance of the tenderness he +would have shown to Alixe. His old habit of mind caused him to call it +an obsession, but he admitted he was obsessed. + +"I want to _see_ her!" he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + + +Many other thoughts filled his mind on his railroad journey to Scotland. +He questioned himself as to how deeply he still felt the importance of +there coming into the racked world a Head of the House of Coombe, how +strongly he was still inspired by the centuries old instinct that a +House of Coombe must continue to exist as part of the bulwarks of +England. The ancient instinct still had its power, but he was curiously +awakening to a slackening of the bonds which caused a man to specialise. +It was a reluctant awakening--he himself had no part in the slackening. +The upheaval of the whole world had done it and of the world England +herself was a huge part--small, huge, obstinate, fighting England. +Bereft of her old stately beauties, her picturesque splendours of habit +and custom, he could not see a vision of her, and owned himself desolate +and homesick. He was tired. So many men and women were tired--worn out +with thinking, fearing, holding their heads up while their hearts were +lead. When all was said and done, when all was over, what would the new +England want--what would she need? And England was only a part. What +would the ravaged world need as it lay--quiet at last--in ruins +physical, moral and mental? He had no answer. Wiser men than he had no +answer. Only time would tell. But the commonest brain cells in the +thickest skull could argue to the end which proved that only men and +women could do the work to be done. The task would be one for gods, or +demigods, or supermen--but there remained so far only men and women to +face it--to rebuild, to reinspire with life, to heal unearthly gaping +wounds of mind and soul. Each man or woman born strong and given the +chance to increase in vigour which would build belief in life and +living, in a future, was needed as breath and air are needed--even such +an one as in the past would have wielded a sort of unearned sceptre as a +Head of the House of Coombe. A man born a blacksmith, if he were of +like quality, would meet equally the world's needs, but each would be +doing in his way his part of that work which it seemed to-day only +demigod and superman could fairly confront. + +There was time for much thinking in long hours spent shut in a railroad +carriage and his mind was, in these days, not given to letting him rest. + +He had talked with many men back from the Front on leave and he had +always noted the marvel of both minds and bodies at the relief from +strain--from maddening noise, from sights of death and horror, from the +needs of decency and common comfort and cleanliness which had become +unheard of luxury. London, which to the Londoner seemed caught in the +tumult and turmoil of war, was to these men rest and peace. + +Coombe felt, when he descended at the small isolated station and stood +looking at the climbing moor, that he was like one of those who had left +the roar of battle behind and reached utter quiet. London was a world's +width away and here the War did not exist. In Flanders and in France it +filled the skies with thunders and drenched the soil with blood. But +here it was not. + +The partly rebuilt ruin of Darreuch rose at last before his view high on +the moor as he drove up the winding road. The space and the blue sky +above and behind it made it seem the embodiment of remote stillness. +Nothing had reached nor could touch it. It did not know that green +fields and deep woods were strewn with dead and mangled youth and all it +had meant of the world's future. Its crumbled walls and remaining grey +towers stood calm in the clear air and birds' nests were hidden safely +in their thick ivy. + +Robin was there and each night she believed that a dead man came to her +a seeming living being. He was not like Dowie, but his realisation of +the mystery of this thing touched his nerves as a wild unexplainable +sound heard in the darkness at midnight might have done. He wondered if +he should see some look which was not quite normal in her eyes and hear +some unearthly note in her voice. Physically the effect upon her had +been good, but might he not be aware of the presence of some mental +sign? + +"I think you'll be amazed when you see her, my lord," said Dowie, who +met him. "I am myself, every day." + +She led him up to the Tower room and when he entered it Robin was +sitting by a window sewing with her eyelids dropped as he had pictured +them. The truth was that Dowie had not previously announced him because +she had wanted him to come upon just this. + +Robin rose from her chair and laid her bit of sewing aside. For a moment +he almost expected her to make the little curtsey Mademoiselle had +taught her to make when older people came into the schoolroom. She +looked so exactly as she had looked before life had touched her. There +was very little change in her girlish figure; the child curve of her +cheek had returned; the Jacqueminot rose glowed on it and her eyes were +liquid wonders of trust. She came to him holding out both hands. + +"Thank you for coming," she said in her pretty way. "Thank you, Lord +Coombe, for coming." + +"Thank you, my child, for asking me to come," he answered and he feared +that his voice was not wholly steady. + +There was no mystic sign to be seen about her. The only mystery was in +her absolutely blooming health and naturalness and in the gentle and +clear happiness of her voice and eyes. She was not tired; she was not +dragged or anxious looking as he had seen even fortunate young wives and +mothers at times. There actually flashed back upon him the morning, +months ago, when he had met her in the street and said to himself that +she was like a lovely child on her birthday with all her gifts about +her. Her radiance had been quiet even then because she was always quiet. + +She led him to a seat near her window and she sat by him. + +"I put this chair here for you because it is so lovely to look out at +the moor," she said. + +That moved him to begin with. She had been thinking simply and kindly of +him even before he came. He had always been prepared for, waited upon +either with flattering attentions or ceremonial service, but the quiet +pretty things mothers and sisters and wives did had not been part of his +life and he had always noticed and liked them and sometimes wondered +that most men received them with a casual air. This small thing alone +caused the roar he had left behind to recede still farther. + +"I was afraid that you might be too busy to come," she went on. "You +see, I remembered how important the work was and that there are things +which cannot wait for an hour. I could have waited as long as you told +me to wait. But I am so _glad_ you could come!" + +"I will always come," was his answer. "I have helpers who could be +wholly trusted if I died to-night. I have thought of that. One must." + +She hesitated a moment and then said, "I am quite away here as you +wanted me to be. I see it was the only thing. I read nothing, hear +nothing. London--the War--" her voice fell a little. + +"They go on. Will you be kind to me and help me to forget them for a +while?" He looked through the window at the sky and the moor. "They are +not here--they never have been. The men who come back will do anything +to make themselves forget for a little while. This place makes me feel +that I am a man who has come back." + +"I will do anything--everything--you wish me to do," she said eagerly. +"Dowie wondered if you would not want to be very quiet and not be +reminded. I--wondered too." + +"You were both right. I want to feel that I am in another world. This +seems like a new planet." + +"Would you--" she spoke rather shyly, "would you be able to stay a few +days?" + +"I can stay a week," he answered. "Thank you, Robin." + +"I am so glad," she said. "I am so glad." + +So they did not talk about the War or about London, though she inquired +about the Duchess and Lady Lothwell and Kathryn. + +"Would you like to go out and walk over the moor?" she asked after a +short time. "It's so scented and sweet, and darling things scurry about. +I don't think they are really frightened, because I try to walk softly. +Sometimes there are nests with eggs or soft little things in them." + +They went out together and walked side by side, sometimes on the winding +road and sometimes through the heather. He found himself watching every +step she made and keeping his eye on the path ahead of them to make +sure she would avoid roughness or irregularities. In some inner part of +his being there remotely worked the thought that this was the way in +which he might have walked side by side with Alixe, watching over each +step taken by her sacred little feet. + +The day was a wonder of peace and relaxation to him. Farther and +farther, until lost in nothingness, receded the roar and the tensely +strung sense of waiting for news of unbearable things. As they went on +he realised that he need not even watch the path before her because she +knew it so well and her step was as light and firm as a young roe's. Her +very movements seemed to express the natural physical enjoyment of +exercise. + +He knew nothing of her mind but that Mademoiselle had told him that she +was intelligent. They had never talked together and so her mentality was +an unexplored field to him. She did not chatter. She said fresh +picturesque things about life on the moor, about the faithful silent +Macaurs, about Dowie, and now and then about something she had read. She +showed him beauties and small curious things she plainly loved. It +struck him that the whole trend of her being lay in the direction of +being fond of people and things--of loving and being happy,--and even +merry if life had been kind to her. Her soft laugh had a naturally merry +note. He heard it first when she held him quite still at her side as +they watched the frisking of some baby rabbits. + +There was a curious relief in realising, as the hours passed, that her +old dislike and dread of him had melted into nothingness like a mist +blown away in the night. She was thinking of him as if he were some +mature and wise friend who had always been kind to her. He need not +rigidly watch his words and hers. She was not afraid of him at all; +there was no shrinking in her eyes when they met his. If Alixe had had a +daughter who was his own, she might have lifted such lovely eyes to him. + +They lunched together and Dowie served them with deft ability and an +expression which Coombe was able to comprehend the at once watchful and +directing meaning of. It directed him to observation of Robin's appetite +and watched for his encouraged realisation of it as a supporting fact. + +He went to his own rooms in the afternoon that she might be alone and +rest. He read an old book for an hour and then talked with the Macaurs +about the place and their work and their new charge. He wanted to hear +what they were thinking of her. + +"It's wonderful, my lord!" was Mrs. Macaur's repeated contribution. "She +came here a wee ghost. She frighted me. I couldna see how she could go +through what's before her. I lay awake in my bed expectin' Mrs. Dowie to +ca' me any hour. An' betwixt one night and anither the change cam. She's +a well bairn--for woman she isna, puir wee thing! It's a wonder--a +wonder--a wonder, my lord!" + +When he saw Dowie alone he asked her a question. + +"Does she know that you have told me of the dream?" + +"No, my lord. The dream's a thing we don't talk about. She's only +mentioned it three times. It's in my mind that she feels it's too sacred +to be made common by words." + +He had wondered if Robin had been aware of his knowledge. After Dowie's +answer he wondered if she would speak to him about the dream herself. +Perhaps she would not. It might be that she had asked him to come to +Darreuch because her thought of him had so changed that she had +realised something of his grave anxiety for her health and a gentle +consideration had made her wish to give him the opportunity to see her +face to face. Perhaps she had intended only this. + +"I want to see her," he had said to himself. The relief of the mere +seeing had been curiously great. He had the relief of sinking, as it +were, into the deep waters of pure peace on this new planet. In this +realisation every look at the child's face, every movement she made, +every tone of her voice, aided. Did she know that she soothed him? Did +she intend to try to soothe? When they were together she gave him a +feeling that she was strangely near and soft and warm. He had felt it on +the moor. It was actually as if she wanted to be quieting to him--almost +as if she had realised that he had been stretched upon a mental rack +with maddening tumult all around him. It was part of her pretty thought +of him in the matter of the waiting chair and he felt it very sweet. + +But she had had other things in her mind when she had asked him to come. +This he knew later. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + + +After they had dined they sat together in the long Highland twilight +before her window in the Tower room where he had found her sitting when +he arrived. Her work basket was near her and she took a piece of sheer +lawn from it and began to embroider. And he sat and watched her draw +delicate threads through the tiny leaves and flowers she was making. So +he might have watched Alixe if she had been some unroyal girl given to +him in one of life's kinder hours. She seemed to draw near out of the +land of lost shadows as he sat in the clear twilight stillness and +looked on. As he might have watched Alixe. + +The silence, the paling daffodil tints of the sky, the non-existence of +any other things than calm and stillness seemed to fill his whole being +as a cup might be filled by pure water falling slowly. She said nothing +and did not even seem to be waiting for anything. It was he who first +broke the rather long silence and his voice was quite low. + +"Do you know you are very good to me?" he said. "How did you learn to be +so kind to a man--with your quietness?" + +He saw the hand holding her work tremble a very little. She let it fall +upon her knee, still holding the embroidery. She leaned forward slightly +and in her look there was actually something rather like a sort of timid +prayer. + +"Please let me," she said. "Please let me--if you can!" + +"Let you!" was all that he could say. + +"Let me try to help you to rest--to feel quiet and forget for just a +little while. It's such a small thing. And it's all I can ever _try_ to +do." + +"You do it very perfectly," he answered, touched and wondering. + +"You have been kind to me ever since I was a child--and I did not know," +she said. "Now I know, because I understand. Oh! _will_ you forgive me? +_Please_--will you?" + +"Don't, my dear," he said. "You were a baby. _I_ understood. That +prevented there being anything to forgive--anything." + +"I ought to have loved you as I loved Mademoiselle and Dowie." Her eyes +filled with tears. "And I think I hated you. It began with Donal," in a +soft wail. "I heard Andrews say that his mother wouldn't let him know me +because you were my mother's friend. And then as I grew older--" + +"Even if I had known what you thought I could not have defended myself," +he answered, faintly smiling. "You must not let yourself think of it. It +is nothing now." + +The hand holding the embroidery lifted itself to touch her breast. There +was even a shade of awe of him in her eyes. + +"It is something to me--and to Donal. You have never defended yourself. +You endure things and endure them. You watched for years over an +ignorant child who loathed you. It was not that a child's hatred is of +importance--but if I had died and never asked you to forgive me, how +could I have looked into Donal's eyes? I want to go down on my knees to +you!" + +He rose from his chair, and took in his own the unsteady hand holding +the embroidery. He even bent and lightly touched it with his lips, with +his finished air. + +"You will not die," he said. "And you will not go upon your knees. Thank +you for being a warm hearted child, Robin." + +But still her eyes held the touch of awe of him. + +"But what I have spoken of is the least." Her voice almost broke. "In +the Wood--in the dark you said there was something that must be saved +from suffering. I could not think then--I could scarcely care. But you +cared, and you made me come awake. To save a poor little child who was +not born, you have done something which will make people believe you +were vicious and hideous--even when all this is over forever and ever. +And there will be no one to defend you. Oh! What shall I do!" + +"There are myriads of worlds," was his answer. "And this is only one of +them. And I am only one man among the myriads on it. Let us be very +quiet again and watch the coming out of the stars." + +In the pale saffron of the sky which was mysteriously darkening, sparks +like deep-set brilliants were lighting themselves here and there. They +sat and watched them together for long. But first Robin murmured +something barely above her lowest breath. Coombe was not sure that she +expected him to hear it. + +"I want to be your little slave. Oh! Let me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + + +This was what she had been thinking of. This had been the meaning of the +tender thought for him he had recognised uncomprehendingly in her look: +it had been the cause of her desire to enfold him in healing and restful +peace. When he had felt that she drew so close to him that they were +scarcely separated by physical being, it was because she had suddenly +awakened to a new comprehension. The awakening must have been a sudden +one. He had known at the church that it had taken all her last remnant +of strength to aid her to lay her cold hand in his and he had seen +shrinking terror in her eyes when she lifted them to his as he put on +her wedding ring. He had also known perfectly what memory had beset her +at the moment and he had thrown all the force of his will into the look +which had answered her--the look which had told her that he understood. +Yes, the awakening must have been sudden and he asked himself how it had +come about--what had made all clear? + +He had never been a mystic, but during the cataclysmic hours through +which men were living, many of them stunned into half blindness and then +shocked into an unearthly clarity of thought and sight, he had come upon +previously unheard of signs of mysticism on all sides. People +talked--most of them blunderingly--of things they would not have +mentioned without derision in pre-war days. Premonitions, dreams, +visions, telepathy were not by any means always flouted with raucous +laughter and crude witticisms. Even unorthodox people had begun to hold +tentatively religious views. + +Was he becoming a mystic at last? As he walked by Robin's side on the +moor, as he dined with her, talked with her, sat and watched her at her +sewing, more than ever each hour he believed that her dream was no +ordinary fantasy of the unguided brain. She had in some strange way +seen Donal. Where--how--where he had come from--where he returned after +their meeting--he ceased to ask himself. What did it matter after all if +souls could so comfort and sustain each other? The blessedness of it was +enough. + +He wondered as Dowie had done whether she would reveal anything to him +or remain silent. There was no actual reason why she should speak. No +remotest reference to the subject would come from himself. + +It was in truth a new planet he lived on during this marvel of a week. +The child was wonderful, he told himself. He had not realised that a +feminine creature could be so exquisitely enfolding and yet leave a man +so wholly free. She was not always with him, but her spirit was so near +that he began to feel that no faintest wish could form itself within his +mind without her mysteriously knowing of its existence and realising it +while she seemed to make no effort. She did pretty things for him and +her gladness in his pleasure in them touched him to the core. He also +knew that she wished him to see that she was well and strong and never +tired or languid. There was, perhaps, one thing she could do for him and +she wanted to prove to him that he might be sure she would not fail him. +He allowed her to perform small services for him because of the dearness +of the smile it brought to her lips--almost a sort of mothering smile. +It was really true that she wanted to be his little slave and he had +imagination enough to guess that she comforted herself by saying the +thing to herself again and again; childlike and fantastic as it was. + +She taught him to sleep as he had not slept for a year; she gave him +back the power to look at his food without a sense of being repelled; +she restored to him the ability to sit still in a chair as though it +were meant to rest in. His nerves relaxed; his deadly fatigue left him; +and it was the quiet nearness of Robin that had done it. He felt younger +and knew that on his return to London he should be more inclined to +disbelieve exaggerated rumours than to believe them. + +On the evening before he left Darreuch they sat at the Tower window +again. She did not take her sewing from its basket, but sat very quietly +for a while looking at the purple folds of moor. + +"You will go away very early in the morning," she began at last. + +"Yes. You must promise me that you will not awaken." + +"I do not waken early. If I do I shall come to you, but I think I shall +be asleep." + +"Try to be asleep." + +He saw that she was going to say something else--something not connected +with his departure. It was growing in her eyes and after a silent moment +or so she began. + +"There is something I want to tell you," she said. + +"Yes?" + +"I have waited because I wanted to make sure that you could believe it. +I did not think you would not wish to believe it, but sometimes there +are people who _cannot_ believe even when they try. Perhaps once I +should not have been able to believe myself. But now--I _know_. And +to-night I feel that you are one of those who _can_ believe." + +She was going to speak of it. + +"In these days when all the forces of the world are in upheaval people +are learning that there are many new things to be believed," was his +answer. + +She turned towards him, extending her arms that he might see her well. + +"See!" she said, "I am alive again. I am alive because Donal came back +to me. He comes every night and when he comes he is not dead. Can you +believe it?" + +"When I look at you and remember, I can believe anything. I do not +understand. I do not know where he comes from--or how, but I believe +that in some way you see him." + +She had always been a natural and simple girl and it struck him that her +manner had never been a more natural one. + +"_I_ do not know where he comes from," the clearness of a bell in her +voice. "He does not want me to ask him. He did not say so but I know. +When he is with me we know things without speaking words. We only talk +of happy things. I have not told him that--that I have been unhappy and +that I thought that perhaps I was really dead. He made me understand +about you--but he does not know anything--else. Yes--" eagerly, eagerly, +"you are believing--you are!" + +"Yes--I am believing." + +"If everything were as it used to be--I should see him and talk to him +in the day time. Now I see him and talk to him at night instead. You +see, it is almost the same thing. But we are really happier. We are +afraid of nothing and we only tell each other of happy things. We know +how wonderful everything is and that it was _meant_ to be like that. You +don't know how beautiful it is when you only think and talk about joyful +things! The other things fly away. Sometimes we go out onto the moor +together and the darkness is not darkness--it is a soft lovely thing as +beautiful as the light. We love it--and we can go as far as we like +because we are never tired. Being tired is one of the things that has +flown away and left us quite light. That is why I feel light in the day +and I am never tired or afraid. I _remember_ all the day." + +As he listened, keeping his eyes on her serenely radiant face, he asked +himself what he should have been thinking if he had been a psychopathic +specialist studying her case. He at the same time realised that a +psychopathic specialist's opinion of what he himself--Lord +Coombe--thought would doubtless have been scientifically disconcerting. +For what he found that he thought was that, through some mysteriously +beneficent opening of portals kept closed through all the eons of time, +she who was purest love's self had strangely passed to places where +vision revealed things as they were created by that First Intention--of +which people sometimes glibly talked in London drawing-rooms. He had not +seen life so. He was not on her plane, but, as he heard her, he for the +time believed in its existence and felt a remote nostalgia. + +"Dowie is very brave and tries not to be frightened," she went on; "but +she is really afraid that something may happen to my mind. She thinks it +is only a queer dream which may turn out unhealthy. But it is not. It is +Donal." + +"Yes, it is Donal," he answered gravely. And he believed he was speaking +a truth, though he was aware of no material process of reasoning by +which such a conclusion could be reached. One had to overleap gaps--even +abysses--where material reasoning came to a full stop. One could only +argue that there might be yet unknown processes to be revealed. Mere +earthly invention was revealing on this plane unknown processes year by +year--why not on other planes? + +"I wanted to tell you because I want you to know everything about me. It +seems as if I belong to you, Lord Coombe," there was actual sweet +pleading in her voice. "You watched and made my life for me. I should +not have been this Robin if you had not watched. When Donal came back he +found me in the house you had taken me to because I could be safe in it. +Everything has come from you.... I am yours as well as Donal's." + +"You give me extraordinary comfort, dear child," he said. "I did not +know that I needed it, but I see that I did. Perhaps I have longed for +it without knowing it. You have opened closed doors." + +"I will do anything--everything--you wish me to do. I will _obey_ you +always," she said. + +"You are doing everything I most desire," he answered. + +"Then I will try more every day." + +She meant it as she had always meant everything she said. It was her +innocent pledge of faithful service, because, understanding at last, she +had laid her white young heart in gratitude at his feet. No living man +could have read her more clearly than this one whom half Europe had +secretly smiled at as its most finished debauchée. When she took her +pretty basket upon her knee and began to fold its bits of lawn +delicately for the night, he felt as if he were watching some stainless +acolyte laying away the fine cloths of an altar. + +Though no one would have accused him of being a sentimentalist or an +emotional man, his emotions overpowered him for once and swept doubt of +emotion and truth into some outer world. + + * * * * * + +The morning rose fair and the soft wind blowing across the gorse and +heather brought scents with it. Dowie waited upon him at his early +breakfast and took the liberty of indulging in open speech. + +"You go away looking rested, my lord," she respectfully ventured. "And +you leave us feeling safe." + +"Quite safe," he answered; "she is beautifully well." + +"That's it, my lord--beautifully--thank God. I've never seen a young +thing bloom as she does and I've seen many." + +The cart was at the door and he stood in the shadows of the hall when a +slight sound made him look up at the staircase. It was an ancient +winding stone descent with its feudal hand rope for balustrade. Robin +was coming down it in a loose white dress. Her morning face was +wonderful. It was inevitable that he should ask himself where she had +come from--what she had brought with her unknowing. She looked like a +white blossom drifting from the bough--like a feather from a dove's wing +floating downward to earth. But she was only Robin. + +"You awakened," he reproached her. + +She came quite near him. + +"I wanted to awake. Donal wanted me to." + +She had never been quite so near him before. She put out a hand and laid +it on the rough tweed covering his breast. + +"I wanted to see you. Will you come again--when you are tired? I shall +always be here waiting." + +"Thank you, dear child," he answered. "I will come as often as I can +leave London. This is a new planet." + +He was almost as afraid to move as if a bird had alighted near him. + +But she was not afraid. Her eyes were clear pools of pure light. + +"Before you go away--" she said as simply as she had said it to Dowie +years before, "--may I kiss you, Lord Coombe? I want to kiss you." + +His old friend had told him the story of Dowie and it had +extraordinarily touched him though he had said but little. And now it +repeated itself. He had never seen anything so movingly lovely in his +life as her sweet gravity. + +She lifted her slight arms and laid them around his neck as she kissed +him gently, as if she had been his daughter--his own daughter and +delight--whose mother might have been Alixe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + + +"It was the strangest experience of my existence. It seemed suddenly to +change me to another type of man." + +He said it to the Duchess as he sat with her in her private room at +Eaton Square. He had told her the whole story of his week at Darreuch +and she had listened with an interest at moments almost breathless. + +"Do you feel that you shall remain the new type of man, or was it only a +temporary phase?" she inquired. + +"I told her that I felt I was living on a new planet. London is the old +planet and I have returned to it. But not as I left it. Something has +come back with me." + +"It must have seemed another planet," the Duchess pondered. "The +stillness of huge unbroken moors--no war--no khaki in sight--utter peace +and remoteness. A girl brought back to life by pure love, drawing a +spirit out of the unknown to her side on earth." + +"She is like a spirit herself--but that she remains Robin--in an +extraordinary new blooming." + +"Yes, she remains Robin." The Duchess thought it out slowly. "Not once +did she disturb you or herself by remembering that you were her +husband." + +"A girl who existed on the old planet would have remembered, and I +should have detested her. To her, marriage means only Donal. The form we +went through she sees only as a supreme sacrifice I made for the sake of +Donal's child. If you could have heard her heart-wrung cry, 'There will +be no one to defend you! Oh! What shall I do!'" + +"The stainless little soul of her!" the Duchess exclaimed. "Her world +holds only love and tenderness. Her goodbye to you meant that in her +penitence she wanted to take you into it in the one way she feels most +sacred. She will not die. She will live to give you the child. If it is +a son there will be a Head of the House of Coombe." + +"On the new planet one ceases to feel the vital importance of 'houses,'" +Coombe half reflected aloud. + +"Even on the old planet," the Duchess spoke as a woman very tired, "one +is beginning to contemplate changes in values." + + * * * * * + +The slice of a house in Mayfair had never within the memory of man been +so brilliant. The things done in it were called War Work and +necessitated much active gaiety. Persons of both sexes, the majority of +them in becoming uniform, flashed in and out in high spirits. If you +were a personable and feminine creature, it was necessary to look as +much like an attractive boy as possible when you were doing War Work. If +one could achieve something like leggings in addition to a masculine cut +of coat, one could swagger about most alluringly. There were numbers of +things to be done which did not involve frumpish utilitarian costumes, +all caps and aprons. Very short skirts were the most utilitarian of +garments because they were easy to get about in. Smart military little +hats were utilitarian also--and could be worn at any inspiring angle +which would most attract the passing eye. Even before the War, shapely +legs, feet and ankles had begun to play an increasingly interesting part +in the scheme of the Universe--as a result of the brevity of skirts and +the prevalence of cabaret dancing. During the War, as a consequence of +the War Work done in such centres of activity as the slice of a house in +Mayfair, these attractive members were allowed opportunities such as the +world had not before contemplated. + +"Skirts must be short when people are doing real work," Feather said. +"And then of course one's shoes and stockings require attention. I'm not +always sure I like leggings however smart they are. Still I often wear +them--as a sort of example." + +"Of what?" inquired Coombe who was present + +"Oh, well--of what women are willing to do for their country--in time of +war. Wearing unbecoming things--and doing without proper food. These +food restrictions are enough to cause a revolution." + +She was specially bitter against the food restrictions. If there was one +thing men back from the Front--particularly officers--were entitled to, +it was unlimited food. The Government ought to attend to it. When a man +came back and you invited him to dinner, a nice patriotic thing it was +to restrict the number of courses and actually deny him savouries and +entrées because they are called luxuries. Who should have luxuries if +not the men who were defending England? + +"Of course the Tommies don't need them," she leniently added. "They +never had them and never will. But men who are officers in smart +regiments are starving for them. I consider that my best War Work is +giving as many dinner parties as possible, and paying as little +attention to food restrictions as I can manage by using my wits." + +For some time--in certain quarters even from early days--there had been +flowing through many places a current of talk about America. What was +she going to do? Was she going to do anything at all? Would it be +possible for her hugeness, her power, her wealth to remain inert in a +world crisis? Would she be content tacitly to admit the truth of old +accusations of commerciality by securing as her part in the superhuman +conflict the simple and unadorned making of money through the dire +necessities of the world? There was bitterness, there were sneers, +there were vague hopes and scathing injustices born of torment and +racking dread. Some few were patiently just, because they knew something +of the country and its political and social workings and were by chance +of those whose points of view included the powers and significances of +things not readily to be seen upon the surface of events. + +"If there were dollars to be made out of it, of course America would +rush in," was Feather's decision. "Americans never do anything unless +they can make dollars. I never saw a dollar myself, but I believe they +are made of green paper. It would be very exciting if they did rush in. +They would bring so much money and they spend it as if it were water. Of +course they haven't any proper army, so they'd have to build one up out +of all sorts of people." + +"Which was what we were obliged to do ourselves, by the way," Coombe +threw in as a contribution. + +"But they will probably have stockbrokers and Wall Street men for +officers. Then some of them might give one 'tips' about how to make +millions in 'corners.' I don't know what corners are but they make +enormities out of them. Starling!" with a hilarious tinkle of a laugh, +"you know that appallingly gorgeous house of Cherry Cheston's in Palace +Garden--did she ever tell you that it was the result of a 'tip' a queer +Chicago man managed for her? He liked her. He used to call her 'Cherry +Ripe' when they were alone. He was big and red and half +boyish--sentimental and half blustering. Cherry _was_ ripe, you know, +and he liked the ripe style. I should like to have a Chicago stockbroker +of my own. I wish the Americans _would_ come in!" + +The Dowager Duchess of Darte and Lord Coombe had been of those who had +begun their talk of this in the early days. + +"Personally I believe they will come in," Coombe had always said. And on +different occasions he had added reasons which, combined, formulated +themselves into the following arguments. "We don't really know much of +the Americans though they have been buying and selling and marrying us +for some time. Our insular trick of feeling superior has held us +mentally aloof from half the globe. But presumably the United States was +from the first, in itself, an ideal, pure and simple. It was. It is +asinine to pooh-pooh it. A good deal is said about that sort of thing in +their histories and speeches. They keep it before each other and it has +had the effect of suggesting ideals on all sides. Which has resulted in +laying a sort of foundation of men who believe in the ideals and would +fight for them. They are good fighters and, when the sincere ones begin, +they will plant their flag where the insincere and mere politicians will +be forced to stand by it to save their faces. A few louder brays from +Berlin, a few more threats of hoofs trampling on the Star Spangled +Banner and the fuse will be fired. An American fuse might turn out an +amazing thing--because the ideals do exist and ideals are inflammable." + +This had been in the early days spoken of. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + + +Harrowby and the rest did not carry on their War Work in the slice of a +house. It was of an order requiring a more serious atmosphere. Feather +saw even the Starling less and less. + +"Since the Dowager took her up she's far too grand for the likes of us," +she said. + +So to speak, Feather blew about from one place to another. She had never +found life so exciting and excitement had become more vitally necessary +to her existence as the years had passed. She still looked +extraordinarily youthful and if her face was at times rather marvelous +in its white and red, and her lips daring in their pomegranate scarlet, +the fine grain of her skin aided her effects and she was dazzlingly in +the fashion. She had never worn such enchanting clothes and never had +seemed to possess so many. + +"I twist my rags together myself," she used to laugh. "That's my gift. +Hélčne says I have genius. I don't mean that I sit and sew. I have a +little slave woman who does that by the day. She admires me and will do +anything that I tell her. Things are so delightfully scant and short now +that you can cut two or three frocks out of one of your old +petticoats--and mine were never very old." + +There was probably a modicum of truth in this--the fact remained that +the garments which were more scant and shorter than those of any other +feathery person were also more numerous and exquisite. Her patriotic +entertainment of soldiers who required her special order of support and +recreation was fast and furious. She danced with them at cabarets; she +danced as a nymph for patriotic entertainments, with snow-white bare +feet and legs and a swathing of Spring woodland green tulle and leaves +and primroses. She was such a success that important personages smiled +on her and asked her to appear under undreamed of auspices. Secretly +triumphant though she was, she never so far lost her head as to do +anything which would bore her or cause her to appear at less than an +alluring advantage. When she could invent a particularly unique and +inspiring shred of a garment to startle the public with, she danced for +some noble object and intoxicated herself with the dazzle of light and +applause. She found herself strung to her highest pitch of excitement by +the air raids, which in the midst of their terrors had the singular +effect of exciting many people and filling them with an insane +recklessness. Those so excited somehow seemed to feel themselves immune. +Feather chattered about "Zepps" as if bombs could only wreak their +vengeance upon coast towns and the lower orders. + +When Lord Coombe definitely refused to allow her to fit up the roof of +the slice of a house as a sort of luxurious Royal Box from which she and +her friends might watch the spectacle, she found among her circle +acquaintances who shared her thrills and had prepared places for +themselves. Sometimes she was even rather indecently exhilarated by her +sense of high adventure. The fact was that the excitement of the +seething world about her had overstrung her trivial being and turned her +light head until it whirled too fast. + +"It may seem horrid to say so and I'm not horrid--but I _like_ the war. +You know what I mean. London never was so thrilling--with things +happening every minute--and all sorts of silly solemn fads swept away so +that one can do as one likes. And interesting heroic men coming and +going in swarms and being so grateful for kindness and entertainment. +One is really doing good all the time--and being adored for it. I own I +like being adored myself--and of course one likes doing good. I never +was so happy in my life." + +"I used to be rather a coward, I suppose," she chattered gaily on +another occasion. "I was horribly afraid of things. I believe the War +and living among soldiers has had an effect on me and made me braver. +The Zepps don't frighten me at all--at least they excite me so that they +make me forget to be frightened. I don't know what they do to me +exactly. The whole thing gets into my head and makes me want to rush +about and _see_ everything. I wouldn't go into a cellar for worlds. I +want to _see_!" + +She saw Lord Coombe but infrequently at this time, the truth being that +her exhilaration and her War Work fatigued him, apart from which his +hours were filled. He also objected to a certain raffishness which in an +extremely mixed crowd of patriots rather too obviously "swept away silly +old fads" and left the truly advanced to do as they liked. What they +liked he did not and was wholly undisturbed by the circumstances of +being considered a rigid old fossil. Feather herself had no need of him. +An athletic and particularly well favoured young actor who shared her +thrills of elation seemed to permeate the atmosphere about her. He and +Feather together at times achieved the effect, between raids, of waiting +impatiently for a performance and feeling themselves ill treated by the +long delays between the acts. + +"Are we growing callous, or are we losing our wits through living at +such high temperature?" the Duchess asked. "There's a delirium in the +air. Among those who are not shuddering in cellars there are some who +seem possessed by a sort of light insanity, half defiance, half excited +curiosity. People say exultantly, 'I had a perfectly splendid view of +the last Zepp!' A mother whose daughter was paying her a visit said to +her, 'I wish you could have seen the Zepps while you were here. It is +such an experience.'" + +"They have not been able to bring about the wholesale disaster Germany +hoped for and when nothing serious happens there is a relieved feeling +that the things are futile after all," said Coombe. "When the results +are tragic they must be hushed up as far as is possible to prevent +panic." + + * * * * * + +Dowie faithfully sent him her private bulletin. Her first fears of peril +had died away, but her sense of mystification had increased and was more +deeply touched with awe. She opened certain windows every night and felt +that she was living in the world of supernatural things. Robin's eyes +sometimes gave her a ghost of a shock when she came upon her sitting +alone with her work in her idle hands. But supported by the testimony of +such realities as breakfasts, long untiring walks and unvarying blooming +healthfulness, she thanked God hourly. + +"Doctor Benton says plain that he has never had such a beautiful case +and one that promised so well," she wrote. "He says she's as strong as a +young doe bounding about on the heather. What he holds is that it's +natural she should be. He is a clever gentleman with some wonderful +comforting new ideas about things, my lord. And he tells me I need not +look forward with dread as perhaps I had been doing." + +Robin herself wrote to Coombe--letters whose tender-hearted +comprehension of what he was doing always held the desire to surround +him with the soothing quiet he had so felt when he was with her. What +he discovered was that she had been born of the elect,--the women who +know what to say, what to let others say and what to beautifully leave +unsaid. Her unconscious genius was quite exquisite. + +Now and then he made the night journey to Darreuch Castle and each time +she met him with her frank childlike kiss he was more amazed and +uplifted by her aspect. Their quiet talks together were wonderful things +to remember. She had done much fine and dainty work which she showed him +with unaffected sweetness. She told him stories of Dowie and +Mademoiselle and how they had taught her to sew and embroider. Once she +told him the story of her first meeting with Donal--but she passed over +the tragedy of their first parting. + +"It was too sad," she said. + +He noticed that she never spoke of sad and dark hours. He was convinced +that she purposely avoided them and he was profoundly glad. + +"I know," she said once, "that you do not want me to talk to you about +the War." + +"Thank you for knowing it," he answered. "I come here on a pilgrimage to +a shrine where peace is. Darreuch is my shrine." + +"It is mine, too," was her low response. + +"Yes, I think it is," his look at her was deep. Suddenly but gently he +laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"I beg you," he said fervently, "I _beg_ you never to allow yourself to +think of it. Blot the accursed thing out of the Universe while--you are +here. For you there must be no war." + +"How kind his face looked," was Robin's thought as he hesitated a +second and then went on: + +"I know very little of such--sacrosanct things as mothers and children, +but lately I have had fancies of a place for them where there are only +smiles and happiness and beauty--as a beginning." + +It was she who now put her hand on his arm. "Little Darreuch is like +that--and you gave it to me," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + + +Lord Coombe was ushered into the little drawing-room by an extremely +immature young footman who--doubtless as a consequence of his +immaturity--appeared upon the scene too suddenly. The War left one only +servants who were idiots or barely out of Board Schools, Feather said. +And in fact it was something suggesting "a scene" upon which Coombe was +announced. The athletic and personable young actor--entitled upon +programmes Owen Delamore--was striding to and fro talking excitedly. +There was theatrical emotion in the air and Feather, delicately flushed +and elate, was listening with an air half frightened, half pleased. The +immaturity of the footman immediately took fright and the youth turning +at once produced the fatal effect of fleeing precipitately. + +Mr. Owen Delamore suddenly ceased speaking and would doubtless have +flushed vividly if he had not already been so high of colour as to +preclude the possibility of his flushing at all. The scene, which was +plainly one of emotion, being intruded upon in its midst left him +transfixed on his expression of anguish, pleading and reproachful +protest--all thrilling and confusing things. + +The very serenity of Lord Coombe's apparently unobserving entrance was +perhaps a shock as well as a relief. It took even Feather two or three +seconds to break into her bell of a laugh as she shook hands with her +visitor. + +"Mr. Delamore is going over his big scene in the new play," she +explained with apt swiftness of resource. "It's very good, but it +excites him dreadfully. I've been told that great actors don't let +themselves get excited at all, so he ought not to do it, ought he, Lord +Coombe?" + +Coombe was transcendently well behaved. + +"I am a yawning abyss of ignorance in such matters, but I cannot agree +with the people who say that emotion can be expressed without feeling." +He himself expressed exteriorly merely intelligent consideration of the +idea. "That however may be solely the opinion of one benighted." + +It was so well done that the young athlete, in the relief of relaxed +nerves, was almost hysterically inclined to believe in Feather's adroit +statement and to feel that he really had been acting. He was at least +able to pull himself together, to become less flushed and to sit down +with some approach to an air of being lightly amused at himself. + +"Well it is proved that I am not a great actor," he achieved. "I can't +come anywhere near doing it. I don't believe Irving ever did--or +Coquelin. But perhaps it is one of my recommendations that I don't +aspire to be great. At any rate people only ask to be amused and helped +out just now. It will be a long time before they want anything else, +it's my opinion." + +They conversed amiably together for nearly a quarter of an hour before +Mr. Owen Delamore went on his way murmuring polite regrets concerning +impending rehearsals, his secret gratitude expressing itself in special +courtesy to Lord Coombe. + +As he was leaving the room, Feather called to him airily: + +"If you hear any more of the Zepps--just dash in and tell me!--Don't +lose a minute! Just dash!" + +When the front door was heard to close upon him, Coombe remarked +casually: + +"I will ask you to put an immediate stop to that sort of thing." + +He observed that Feather fluttered--though she had lightly moved to a +table as if to rearrange a flower in a group. + +"Put a stop to letting Mr. Delamore go over his scene here?" + +"Put a stop to Mr. Delamore, if you please." + +It was at this moment more than ever true that her light being was +overstrung and that her light head whirled too fast. This one particular +also overstrung young man had shared all her amusements with her and had +ended by pleasing her immensely--perhaps to the verge of inspiring a +touch of fevered sentiment she had previously never known. She told +herself that it was the War when she thought of it. She had however not +been clever enough to realise that she was a little losing her head in a +way which might not be to her advantage. For the moment she lost it +completely. She almost whirled around as she came to Coombe. + +"I won't," she exclaimed. "I won't!" + +It was a sort of shock to him. She had never done anything like it +before. It struck him that he had never before seen her look as she +looked at the moment. She was a shade too dazzlingly made up--she had +crossed the line on one side of which lies the art which is perfect. +Even her dress had a suggestion of wartime lack of restraint in its +style and colours. + +It was of a strange green and a very long scarf of an intensely vivid +violet spangled with silver paillettes was swathed around her bare +shoulders and floated from her arms. One of the signs of her excitement +was that she kept twisting its ends without knowing that she was +touching it. He noted that she wore a big purple amethyst ring--the +amethyst too big. Her very voice was less fine in its inflections and as +he swiftly took in these points Coombe recognised that they were the +actual result of the slight tone of raffishness he had observed as +denoting the character of her increasingly mixed circle. + +She threw herself into a chair palpitating in one of her rages of a +little cat--wreathing her scarf round and round her wrist and singularly +striking him with the effect of almost spitting and hissing out her +words. + +"I won't give up everything I like and that likes me," she flung out. +"The War has done something to us all. It's made us let ourselves go. +It's done something to me too. It's made me less frightened. I won't be +bullied into--into things." + +"Do I seem to bully you? I am sorry." + +The fact that she had let herself go with the rest of the world got the +better of her. + +"You have not been near me for weeks and now you turn up with your air +of a grand Bashawe and order people out of my house. You have not been +near me." + +The next instant it was as though she tore off some last shred of mental +veiling and threw it aside in her reckless mounting heat of temper. + +"Near me!" she laughed scathingly, "For the matter of that when have you +ever been _near_ me? It's always been the same. I've known it for years. +As the Yankees say, you 'wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole.' I'm +sick of it. What did you _do_ it for?" + +"Do what?" + +"Take possession of me as if I were your property. You never were in +love with me--never for a second. If you had been you'd have married +me." + +"Yes. I should have married you." + +"There was no reason why you should not. I was pretty. I was young. I'd +been decently brought up--and it would have settled everything. Why +_didn't_ you instead of letting people think I was your mistress when I +didn't count for as much as a straw in your life?" + +"You represented more than that," he answered. "Kindly listen to me." + +That she had lost her head completely was sufficiently manifested by the +fact that she had begun to cry--which made it necessary for her to use +her handkerchief with inimitable skill to prevent the tears from +encroaching on her brilliant white and rose. + +"If you had been in love with me--" she chafed bitterly. + +"On the morning some years ago when I came to you I made myself clear to +the best of my ability," he said. "I did not mention love. I told you +that I had no intention of marrying you. I called your attention to what +the world would assume. I left the decision to you." + +"What could I do--without a penny? Some other man would have had to do +it if you had not," the letting go rushed her into saying. + +"Or you would have been obliged to return to your parents in +Jersey--which you refused to contemplate." + +"Of course I refused. It would have been mad to do it. And there were +other people who would have paid my bills." + +"Solely because I knew that, I made my proposition. Being much older +than you I realised that other people might not feel the responsibility +binding--and permanent." + +She sat up and stared at him. There was no touch of the rancour of +recrimination in his presentation of detached facts. He _was_ different +from the rest. He was always better dressed and the perfection of his +impersonal manner belonged to a world being swept away. He made Mr. Owen +Delamore seem by contrast a bounder and an outsider. But the fact which +had in the secret places of her small mind been the fly in her +ointment--the one fact that he had never for a moment cared a straw for +her--caused her actually to hate him as he again made it, quite without +prejudice, crystal clear. It was true that he had more than kept his +word--that he had never broken a convention in his bearing towards +her--that in his rigid way he had behaved like a prince--but she had +been dirt under his feet--she had been dirt under his feet! She wanted +to rave like a fishwife--though there were no fishwives in Mayfair. + +It was at this very moment of climax that a sudden memory beset her. + +"Rob always said that if a woman who was pretty could see a man often +enough--again and again--he couldn't _help_ himself--unless there _was_ +some one else!" + +Her last words were fiercely accusing. She quite glared at him a few +seconds, her chest heaving pantingly. + +She suddenly sprang from her sofa and dashed towards a table where a +pile of photographs lay in an untidy little heap. She threw them about +with angrily shaking hands until at last she caught at one and brought +it back to him. + +"There _was_ some one else," she laughed shrilly. "You were in love with +that creature." + +It was one of the photographs of Alixe such as the Bond Street shop had +shown in its windows. + +She made a movement as if to throw it into the grate and he took it from +her hand, saying nothing whatever. + +"I'd forgotten about it until Owen Delamore reminded me only yesterday," +she said. "He's a romantic thing and he heard that you had been in +attendance and had been sent to their castle in Germany. He worked the +thing out in his own way. He said you had chosen me because I was like +her. I can see now! I _was_ like her!" + +"If you had been like her," his voice was intensely bitter, "I should +have asked you to be my wife. You are as unlike her as one human being +can be to another." + +"But I was enough like her to make you take me up!" she cried furiously. + +"I have neither taken you up nor put you down," he answered. "Be good +enough never to refer to the subject again." + +"I'll refer to any subject I like. If you think I shall not you are +mistaken. It will be worth talking about. An Early Victorian romance is +worth something in these days." + +The trend of her new circle had indeed carried her far. He was privately +appalled by her. She was hysterically, passionately spiteful--almost to +the point of malignance. + +"Do you realise that this is a scene? It has not been our habit to +indulge in scenes," he said. + +"I shall speak about it as freely as I shall speak about Robin," she +flaunted at him, wholly unrestrained. "Do you think I know nothing about +Robin? I'm an affectionate mother and I've been making inquiries. She's +not with the Dowager at Eaton Square. She got ill and was sent away to +be hidden in the country. Girls are, sometimes. I thought she would be +sent away somewhere, the day I met her in the street. She looked +exactly like that sort of thing. Where is she? I demand to know." + +There is nothing so dangerous to others as the mere spitefully malignant +temper of an empty headed creature giving itself up to its own weak +fury. It knows no restraint, no limit in its folly. In her fantastic +broodings over her daughter's undue exaltation of position Feather had +many times invented for her own entertainment little scenes in which she +could score satisfactorily. Such scenes had always included Coombe, the +Dowager, Robin and Mrs. Muir. + +"I am her mother. She is not of age. I _can_ demand to see her. I can +make her come home and stay with me while I see her through her +'trouble,' as pious people call it. She's got herself into trouble--just +like a housemaid. I knew she would--I warned her," and her laugh was +actually shrill. + +It was inevitable--and ghastly--that he should suddenly see Robin with +her white eyelids dropped over her basket of sewing by the window in the +Tower room at Darreuch. It rose as clear as a picture on a screen and he +felt sick with actual terror. + +"I'll go to the Duchess and ask her questions until she can't face me +without telling the truth. If she's nasty I'll talk to the War Work +people who crowd her house. They all saw Robin and the wide-awake ones +will understand when I'm maternal and tragic and insist on knowing. I'll +go to Mrs. Muir and talk to her. It will be fun to see her face and the +Duchess'." + +He had never suspected her of malice such as this. And even in the midst +of his ghastly dismay he saw that it was merely the malice of an angrily +spiteful selfish child of bad training and with no heart. There was +nothing to appeal to--nothing to arrest and control. She might repent +her insanity in a few days but for the period of her mood she would do +her senseless worst. + +"Your daughter has not done what you profess to believe," he said. "You +do not believe it. Will you tell me why you propose to do these things?" + +She had worked herself up to utter recklessness. + +"Because of _everything_," she spat forth. "Because I'm in a +rage--because I'm sick of her and her duchesses. And I'm most sick of +you hovering about her as if she were a princess of the blood and you +were her Grand Chamberlain. Why don't you marry her yourself--baby and +all! Then you'll be sure there'll be another Head of the House of +Coombe!" + +She knew then that she had raved like a fishwife--that, even though +there had before been no fishwives in Mayfair, he saw one standing +shrilling before him. It was in his eyes and she knew it before she had +finished speaking, for his look was maddening. It enraged her even +further and she shook in the air the hand with the big purple amethyst +ring, still clutching the end of the bedizened purple scarf. She was +intoxicated with triumph--for she had reached him. + +"I will! I will!" she cried. "I will--to-morrow!" + +"You will not!" his voice rang out as she had never heard it before. He +even took a step forward. Then came the hurried leap of feet up the +narrow staircase and Owen Delamore flung the door wide, panting: + +"You told me to dash in," he almost shouted. "They're coming! We can +rush round to the Sinclairs'. They're on the roof already!" + +She caught the purple scarf around her and ran towards him, for at this +new excitement her frenzy reached its highest note. + +"I will! I will!" she called back to Coombe as she fled out of the room +and she held up and waved at him again the hand with the big amethyst. +"I will, to-morrow!" + + * * * * * + +Lord Coombe was left standing in the garish, crowded little drawing-room +listening to ominous sounds in the street--to cries, running feet and +men on fleeing bicycles shouting warnings as they sped at top speed and +strove to clear the way. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +It was one of the raids which left hellish things behind it--things +hushed with desperate combined effort to restrain panic, but which +blighted the air people strove to breathe and kept men and women +shuddering for long after and made people waken with sharp cries from +nightmares of horror. Certain paled faces belonged to those who had seen +things and would never forget them. Others strove to look defiant and +cheerful and did not find it easy. Some tried to get past policemen to +certain parts of the city and some, getting past, returned livid and +less adventurous in spirit because they had heard things it was gruesome +to hear. Lord Coombe went the next morning to the slice of a house and +found the servants rather hysterical. Feather had not returned, but they +were not hysterical for that reason. She had probably remained at the +house to which she had gone to see the Zepps. After the excitement was +over, people like the Sinclairs were rather inclined to restore +themselves by making a night of it, so to speak. + +As "to-morrow" had now arrived, Lord Coombe wished to see her on her +return. He had in fact lain awake thinking of plans of defence but had +so far been able to decide on none. If there had been anything to touch, +to appeal to, there might have been some hope, but she had left taste +and fastidiousness scattered in shreds behind her. The War, as she put +it, had made her less afraid of life. She had in fact joined the army of +women who could always live so long as their beauty lasted. At the +beginning of her relations with Lord Coombe she had belonged in a sense +to a world which now no longer existed in its old form. Possibly there +would soon be neither courts nor duchesses and so why should anything +particularly matter? There were those who were taking cataclysms lightly +and she was among them. If her airy mind chanced to have veered and her +temper died down, money or jewels might induce her to keep quiet if one +could endure the unspeakable indignity of forcing oneself to offer +them. She would feel such an offer no indignity and would probably +regard it as a tremendous joke. But she could no more be trusted than a +female monkey or jackdaw. + +Lord Coombe sat among the gewgaws in the drawing room and waited because +he must see her when she came in and at least discover if the weather +cock had veered. + +After waiting an hour or more he heard a taxi arrive at the front door +and stop there. He went to the window to see who got out of the vehicle. +It gave him a slight shock to recognise a man he knew well. He wore +plain clothes, but he was a member of the police force. + +He evidently came into the house and stopped in the hall to talk to the +immature footman who presently appeared at the drawing-room door, +looking shaken because he had been questioned and did not know what it +portended. + +"What is the matter?" Lord Coombe assisted him with. + +"Some one who is asking about Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. He doesn't seem +satisfied with what I tell him. I took the liberty of saying your +lordship was here and perhaps you'd see him." + +"Bring him upstairs." + +It was in fact a man who knew Lord Coombe well enough to be aware that +he need make no delay. + +"It was one of the worst, my lord," he said in answer to Coombe's first +question. "We've had hard work--and the hardest of it was to hold +things--people--back." He looked hag-ridden as he went on without any +preparation. He was too tired for prefaces. + +"There was a lady who went out of here last night. She was with a +gentleman. They were running to a friend's house to see things from the +roof. They didn't get there. The gentleman is in the hospital delirious +to-day. He doesn't know what happened. It's supposed something +frightened her and she lost her wits and ran away. The gentleman tried +to follow her but the lights were out and he couldn't find her in the +dark streets. The running about and all the noises and crashes sent him +rather wild perhaps. Trying to find a frightened woman in the midst of +all that--and not finding her--" + +"What ghastly--damnable thing has happened?" Coombe asked with stiff +lips. + +"It's both," the man said, "--it's both." + +He produced a package and opened it. There was a torn and stained piece +of spangled violet gauze folded in it and on top was a little cardboard +box which he opened also to show a ring with a big amethyst in it set +with pearls. + +"Good God!" Coombe ejaculated, getting up from his chair hastily, "Oh! +Good God!" + +"You know them?" the man asked. + +"Yes. I saw them last night--before she went out." + +"She ran the wrong way--she must have been crazy with fright. This--" +the man hesitated a second here and pulled himself together, "--this is +all that was found except--" + +"Good God!" said Lord Coombe again and he walked to and fro rapidly, +trying to hold his body rigid. + +"The gentleman--his name is Delamore--went on looking--after the raid +was over. Some one saw him running here and there as if he had gone +crazy. He was found afterwards where he'd fainted--near a woman's hand +with this ring on and the piece of scarf in it. He's a strong young chap +but he'd fainted dead. He was carried to the hospital and to-day he's +delirious." + +"There--was nothing more?" shuddered Coombe. + +"Nothing, my lord." + + * * * * * + +Out of unbounded space embodied nothingness had seemed to float across +the world of living things, and into space the nothingness had +disappeared--leaving behind a trinket and a rent scrap of purple gauze. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + + +Six weeks later Coombe was driven again up the climbing road to +Darreuch. There was something less of colour than usual in his face, but +the slightly vivid look of shock observing persons had been commenting +upon had died out. As he had travelled, leaning back upon the cushions +of the railway carriage, he had kept his eyes closed for the greater +part of the journey. When at last he began to open them and look out at +the increasingly beautiful country he also began to look rested and +calm. He already felt the nearing peace of the shrine and added to it +was an immense relaxing and uplift. A girl of a type entirely different +from Robin's might, he knew, have made him feel during the past months +as if he were taking part in a melodrama. This she had wholly saved him +from by the clear simplicity of her natural acceptance of all things as +they were. She had taken and given without a word. He was, as it were, +going home to her now, as deeply thrilled and moved as a totally +different type of man might have gone--a man who was simpler. + +The things he might once have been and felt were at work within him. +Again he longed to see the girl--he _wanted_ to see her. He was going to +the castle in response to a telegram from Dowie. All was well over. She +was safe. For the rest, all calamity had been kept from her knowledge +and, as he had arranged it, the worst would never reach her. In course +of time she would learn all it was necessary that she should know of her +mother's death. + +When Mrs. Macaur led him to one of his own rooms she glowed red and +expectantly triumphant. + +"The young lady, your lordship--it was wonderfu'!" + +But before she had time to say more Dowie had appeared and her face was +smooth and serene to marvellousness. + +"The Almighty himself has been in this place, my lord," she said +devoutly. "I didn't send more than a word, because she's like a +schoolroom child about it. She wants to tell you herself." The woman was +quivering with pure joy. + +"May I see her?" + +"She's waiting, my lord." + +Honey scents of gorse and heather blew softly through the open windows +of the room he was taken to. He did not know enough of such things to be +at all sure what he had expected to see--but what he moved quickly +towards, the moment after his entrance, was Robin lying fair as a wild +rose on her pillows--not pale, not tragic, but with her eyes wide and +radiant as a shining child's. + +Her smiling made his heart stand still. He really could not speak. But +she could and turned back the covering to show him what lay in her soft +curved arm. + +"He is not like me at all," was her joyous exulting. "He is exactly like +Donal." + + * * * * * + +The warm, tender breathing, semi-dormant, scarcely sentient-seeming +thing might indeed have been the reincarnation of what had in the past +so peculiarly reached bodily perfection. Robin, who mysteriously knew +every line and curve of the new-born body, could point out how each limb +and feature was an embryonic replica. + +"Though he looks so tiny, he is not really little," was her lovely +yearning boast. "He is really very big. Dowie has known hundreds of +babies and they were none of them as big as he is. He is a giant--an +angel giant," burying her face in the soft red neck. + +"It seemed to change me into another type of man," Coombe once said to +the Duchess. + +The man into whom he had been transformed was he who lived through the +next few days at Darreuch even as though life were a kindly faithful +thing. Many other men, he told himself, must have lived as he did and he +wondered if any of them ever forgot it. It was a thing set apart. + +He sat by Robin's side; they talked together; he retired to his own +rooms or went out for a long walk, coming back to her to talk again, or +read aloud, or to consider with her the marvel of the small thing by her +side, examining curled hands and feet with curious interest. + +"But though they look so little, they are not really," she always said. +"See how long his fingers are and how they taper. And his foot is long, +too, and narrow and arched. Donal's was like it." + +"Was," she said, and he wondered if she might not feel a pang as he +himself did. + +He wondered often and sometimes, when he sat alone in his room at night, +found something more than wonder in his mind--something that, if she had +not forbidden it, would have been fear because of strange things he saw +in her. + +He could not question her. He dared not even remotely touch on the +dream. She was so well, her child was so well. She was as any young +mother might have been who could be serene in her husband's absence +because she knew he was safe and would soon return. + +"Is she always as calm?" he once asked Dowie. "Does she never seem to be +reminded of what would have been if he were alive?" + +Dowie shook her head and he saw that the old anxiousness came back upon +her. + +"My lord, she believes he _is_ alive when she sees him. That's what +troubles me even in my thankfulness. I don't understand, God help me! I +was afraid when she saw the child that it might all come over her again +in a way that would do her awful harm. But when I laid the little thing +down by her she just lay there herself and looked at it as if something +was uplifting her. And in a few seconds she whispered, 'He is like +Donal.' And then she said to herself, soft but quite clear, 'Donal, +Donal!' And never a tear rose. Perhaps," hesitating over it, "it's the +blessedness of _time_. A child's a wonderful thing--and so is time. +Sometimes," a queer sigh broke from her, "when I've been hard put to it +by trouble, I've said to myself, 'Well the Almighty did give us +_time_--whatever else he takes away.'" + +But Coombe mysteriously felt that it was not merely time which had +calmed her, though any explanation founded on material reasoning became +more remote each day. The thought which came to him at times had no +connection with temporal things. He found he was gravely asking himself +what aspect mere life would have worn if Alixe had come to him every +night in such form as had given him belief in the absolute reality of +her being. If he had been convinced that he heard the voice of Alixe--if +she had smiled and touched him with her white hands as she had never +touched him in life--if her eyes had been unafraid and they had spoken +together "only of happy things"--and had understood as one soul--what +could the mere days have held of hurt? There was only one possible reply +and it seemed to explain his feeling that she was sustained by something +which was not alone the mere blessedness of time. + +He became conscious one morning of the presence of a new expression in +her eyes. There was a brave radiance in them and, before, he had known +that in their radiance there had been no necessity for bravery. He felt +a subtle but curious difference. + +Her child had been long asleep and she lay like a white dove on her +pillows when he came to make his brief good-night visit. She was very +still and seemed to be thinking. Her touch on his arm was as the touch +of a butterfly when she at last put out her hand to him. + +"He may not come to-night," she said. + +He put his own hand over hers and hoped it was done quietly. + +"But to-morrow night?" trusting that his tone was quiet also. It must be +quiet. + +"Perhaps not for a good many nights. He does not know. I must not ask +things. I never do." + +"But it has been so wonderful that you know--" + +On what plane was he--on what plane was she? What plane were they +talking about with such undoubtingness? Heaven be praised his voice +actually sounded natural. + +"I do not know much--except that he is Donal. And I can never feel as if +I were dead again--never." + +"No," he answered. "Never!" + +She lay so still for a few minutes that if her eyes had not been open he +would have thought she was falling asleep. They were so dreamy that +perhaps she was falling asleep and he softly rose to leave her. + +"I think--he is trying to come nearer," she murmured. "Good-night, +dear." + + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + + +Ominous hours had come and gone; waves of gloom had surged in and +receded, but never receded far enough. It was as though the rising and +falling of some primćval storm was the background of all thought and +life and its pandemonium of sound foretold the far-off heaving of some +vast tidal wave, gathering its unearthly power as it swelled. + +Coombe talking to his close friend in her few quiet hours at Eaton +Square, found a support in the very atmosphere surrounding her. + +"The world at war creates a prehistoric uproar," he said. "The earth +called out of chaos to take form may have produced some such tempestuous +crash. But there is a far-off glow--" + +"You believe--something--I believe too. But the prehistoric darkness and +uproar are so appalling. One loses hold." The Duchess leaned forward her +voice dropping. "What do you know that I do not?" + +"The light usually breaks in the East," Coombe answered. + +"It is breaking in the West to-day. It has always been there and it has +been spreading from the first. At any moment it may set the sky aflame." + +For as time had gone on the world had beheld the colossal spectacle of a +huge nation in the melting pot. And, as it was as a nation the composite +result of the fusion of all the countries of the earth, the +breath-suspended lookers-on beheld it in effect, passionately +commercial, passionately generous, passionately sordid, passionately +romantic, chivalrous, cautious, limited, bounded. As American wealth and +sympathy poured in where need was most dire, bitterness became silent +through sheer discretion's sake, when for no more honest reason. As the +commercial tendency expressed itself in readiness and efficiency, +sneering condemnation had become less loud. + +"It will happen. It is the result of the ideals really," Coombe said +further. "And it will come to pass at the exact psychological moment. If +they had come in at the beginning they would have faced the first full +force of the monstrous tidal wave of the colossal German belief in its +own omnipotence--and they would have faced it unawakened, unenraged by +monstrosities and half incredulous of the truth. It was not even their +fight then--and raw fighters need a flaming cause. But the tower of +agonies has built itself to its tottering height before their blazing +eyes. Now it is their fight because it is the fight of the whole world. +Others have borne the first fierce heat and burden of the day, but they +will rush in young and untouched by calamity--bounding, shouting and +singing. They will come armed with all that long-borne horrors and +maddening human fatigue most need. I repeat--it will occur at the exact +psychological moment. They will bring red-hot blood and furious +unbounded courage-- And it will be the end." + +In fact Coombe waited with a tense sensation of being too tightly +strung. He had hours when he felt that something might snap. But nothing +must snap yet. He was too inextricably entangled in the arduous work +even to go to Darreuch for rest. He did not go for weeks. All was well +there however--marvellously well it seemed, even when he held in mind a +letter from Robin which had ended:-- + +"He has not come back. But I am not afraid. I promised him I would never +be afraid again." + +In dark and tired hours he steadied himself with a singular +half-realised belief that she would not--that somehow some strange thing +would be left to her, whatsoever was taken away. It was because he felt +as if he were nearing the end of his tether. He had become +hypersensitive to noises, to the sounds in the streets, to the strain +and grief in faces he saw as he walked or drove. + + * * * * * + +After lying awake all one night without a moment of blank peace he came +down pale and saw that his hand shook as he held his coffee cup. It was +a livid sort of morning and when he went out for the sake of exercise he +found he was looking at each of the strained faces as if it held some +answer to an unformed question. He realised that the tenseness of both +mind and body had increased. For no reason whatever he was restrung by a +sense of waiting for something--as if something were going to happen. + +He went back to Coombe House and when he crossed the threshold he +confronted the elderly unliveried man who had stood at his place for +years--and the usually unperturbed face was agitated so nearly to panic +that he stopped and addressed him. + +"Has anything happened?" + +"My lord--a Red Cross nurse--has brought"--he was actually quite +unsteady--too unsteady to finish, for the next moment the Red Cross +nurse was at his side--looking very whitely fresh and clean and with a +nice, serious youngish face. + +"I need not prepare you for good news--even if it is a sort of shock," +she said, watching him closely. "I have brought Captain Muir back to +you." + +"You have brought--?" he exclaimed. + +"He has been in one of the worst German prisons. He was left for dead on +the field and taken prisoner. We must not ask him questions. I don't +know why he is alive. He escaped, God knows how. At this time he does +not know himself. I saw him on the boat. He asked me to take charge of +him," she spoke very quickly. "He is a skeleton, poor boy. Come." + +She led the way to his own private room. She went on talking short +hurried sentences, but he scarcely heard her. This, then, was what he +had been waiting for. Why had he not known? This tremendous thing was +really not so tremendous after all because it had happened in other +cases before-- Yet he had never once thought of it. + +"He would not let his wife or his mother see him until he looked more +like himself," he heard the Red Cross nurse say as he entered the room. + +Donal was lying stretched at full length on a sofa. He looked abnormally +long, because he was so thin that he was, as the nurse had said, a +skeleton. His face was almost a death's head, but his blue eyes looked +out of their great hollow sockets clear as tarn water, and with the +smile which Coombe would not have forgotten howsoever long life had +dragged out. + +"Be very careful!" whispered the nurse. + +He knew he must be careful. Only the eyes were alive. The body was a +collapsed thing. He seemed scarcely breathing, his voice was a thread. + +"Robin!" Coombe caught as he bent close to him. "Robin!" + +"She is well, dear boy!" How his voice shook! "I have taken care of +her." + +The light leaped up into the blue for a second. The next the lids +dropped and the nurse sprang forward because he had slipped into a faint +so much like death that it might well have rent hope from a looker-on. + +For the next hour, and indeed for many following, there was unflagging +work to be done. The Red Cross Nurse was a capable, swiftly moving +woman, with her resources at her finger's ends, and her quick wits about +her. Almost immediately two doctors from the staff, in charge of the +rooms upstairs were on the spot and at work with her. By what +lightning-flashed sentences she conveyed to them, without pausing for a +second, the facts it was necessary for them to know, was +incomprehensible to Coombe, who could only stand afar off and wait, +watching the dead face. Its sunken temples, cheeks and eyes, and the +sharply carven bone outline were heart gripping. + +It seemed hours before one of the doctors as he bent over the couch +whispered, + +"The breathing is a little better--" + +It was not possible that he should be moved, but the couch was broad and +deeply upholstered and could be used temporarily as a bed. Every +resource of medical science was within reach. Nurse Jones, who had been +on her way home to take a rest, was so far ensnared by unusual interest +that she wished to be allowed to remain on duty. There were other nurses +who could be called on at any moment of either night or day. There were +doctors of indisputable skill who were also fired by the mere histrionic +features of the case. The handsome, fortunate young fellow who had been +supposed torn to fragments had by some incomprehensible luck been aided +to drag himself home--perhaps to die of pure exhaustion. + +Was it really hours before Coombe saw the closed eyes weakly open? But +the smile was gone and they seemed to be looking at something not in +the room. + +"They will come--in," the words dragged out scarcely to be heard. +"Jackson--said--said--they--would." The eyes dropped again and the +breathing was a mere flutter. + +Nurse Jones was in fact filled with much curiosity concerning and +interest in the Marquis of Coombe. She was a clever and well trained +person, but socially a simple creature, who in an inoffensive way "loved +a lord." If her work had not absorbed her she could not have kept her +eyes from this finely conventional and rather unbending-looking man +who--keeping himself out of the way of all who were in charge of the +seemingly almost dead boy--still would not leave the room, and watched +him with a restrained passion of such feeling as it was not natural to +see in the eyes of men. Marquis or not he had gone through frightful +things in his life and this boy meant something tremendous to him. If he +couldn't be brought back--! Despite the work her swift eye darted +sideways at the Marquis. + +When at length another nurse took her place and she was going out of the +room, he moved quickly towards her and spoke. + +"May I ask if I may speak to you alone for a few minutes? I have no +right to keep you from your rest. I assure you I won't." + +"I'll come," she answered. What she saw in the man's face was that, +because she had brought the boy, he actually clung to her. She had been +clung to many times before, but never by a man who looked quite like +this. There was _more_ than you could see. + +He led her to a smaller room near by. He made her sit down, but he did +not sit himself. It was plain that he did not mean to keep her from her +bed--though he was in hard case if ever man was. His very determination +not to impose on her caused her to make up her mind to tell him all she +could, though it wasn't much. + +"Captain Muir's mother believes that he is dead," he said. "It is plain +that no excitement must approach him--even another person's emotion. He +was her idol. She is in London. _Must_ I send for her--or would it be +safe to wait?" + +"There have been minutes to-day when if I'd known he had a mother I +should have said she must be sent for," was her answer. "To-night I +believe--yes, I _do_--that it would be better to wait and watch. Of +course the doctors must really decide." + +"Thank you. I will speak to them. But I confess I wanted to ask _you_." +How he did cling to her! + +"Thank you," he said again. "I will not keep you." + +He opened the door and waited for her to pass--as if she had been a +marchioness herself, she thought. In spite of his desperate eyes he +didn't forget a single thing. He so moved her that she actually turned +back. + +"You don't know anything yet-- Some one you're fond of coming back from +the grave must make you half mad to know how it happened," she said. "I +don't know much myself, but I'll tell you all I was able to find out. He +was light headed when I found him trying to get on the boat. When I +spoke to him he just caught my hand and begged me to stay with him. He +wanted to get to you. He'd been wandering about, starved and hiding. If +he'd been himself he could have got help earlier. But he'd been ill +treated and had seen things that made him lose his balance. He couldn't +tell a clear story. He was too weak to talk clearly. But I asked +questions now and then and listened to every word he said when he +rambled because of his fever. Jackson was a fellow prisoner who died of +hemorrhage brought on by brutality. Often I couldn't understand him, but +he kept bringing in the name of Jackson. One thing puzzled me very much. +He said several times 'Jackson taught me to dream of Robin. I should +never have seen Robin if I hadn't known Jackson.' Now 'Robin' is a boy's +name--but he said 'her' and 'she' two or three times as if it were a +girl's." + +"Robin is his wife," said Coombe. He really found the support of the +door he still held open, useful for the moment. + +An odd new interest sharpened in her eyes. + +"Then he's been dreaming of her." She almost jerked it out--as if in +sudden illumination almost relief. "He's been dreaming of her--! And it +may have kept him alive." She paused as if she were asking questions of +her own mind. "I wonder," dropped from her in slow speculation, "if she +has been dreaming of _him_?" + +"He was not dead--he was not an angel--he was Donal!" Robin had +persisted from the first. He had not been dead. In some incredibly +hideous German prison--in the midst of inhuman horrors and the blackness +of what must have been despair--he had been alive, and had dreamed as +she had. + +Nurse Jones looked at him, waiting. Even if nurses had not been, +presumably, under some such bond of honourable secrecy as constrained +the medical profession, he knew she was to be trusted. Her very look +told him. + +"She did dream of him," he said. "She was slipping fast down the slope +to death and he caught her back. He saved her life and her child's. She +was going to have a child." + +They were both quite silent for a few moments. The room was still. Then +the woman drew her hand with a quick odd gesture across her forehead. + +"Queer things happened in the last century, but queerer ones are going +to happen in this--if people will let them. Doctors and nurses see and +think a lot they can't talk about. They're always on the spot at what +seems to be the beginning and the ending. These black times have opened +up the ways. 'Queer things,' I said," with sudden forcefulness. "They're +not queer. It's only laws we haven't known about. It's the writing on +the scroll that we couldn't read. We're just learning the alphabet." +Then after a minute more of thought, "Those two--were they particularly +fond of each other--more to each other than most young couples?" + +"They loved each other the hour they first met--when they were little +children. It was an unnatural shock to them both when they were parted. +They seemed to be born mated for life." + +"That was the reason," she said quite relievedly. "I can understand +that. It's as orderly as the stars." Then she added with a sudden, +strong, quite normal conviction, and her tiredness seemed to drop from +her, "He won't die--that beautiful boy," she said. "He can't. It's not +meant. They're going on, those three. He's the most splendid human thing +I ever handled--skeleton as he is. His very bones are magnificent as he +lies there. And that smile of his that's deep in the blue his eyes are +made of--it can only flicker up for a second now--but it can't go out. +He's safe, even this minute, though you mayn't believe it." + +"I do believe it," Coombe said. + +And he stood there believing it, when she went through the open door and +left him. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + + +It was long before the dropped eyelids could lift and hold themselves +open for more than a few seconds and long before the eyes wore their old +clear look. The depths of the collapse after prolonged tortures of +strain and fear was such as demanded a fierce and unceasing fight of +skill and unswerving determination on the part of both doctors and +nurses. There were hours when what seemed to be strange, deathly drops +into abysses of space struck terror into most of those who stood by +looking on. But Nurse Jones always believed and so did Coombe. + +"You needn't send for his mother yet," she said without flinching. "You +and I know something the others don't know, Lord Coombe. That child and +her baby are holding him back though they don't know anything about it." + +It revealed itself to him that her interest in things occult and +apparently unexplained by material processes had during the last few +years intensely absorbed her in private. Her feeling, though intense, +was intelligent and her processes of argument were often convincing. He +became willing to answer her questions because he felt sure of her. He +lent her the books he had been reading and in her hard-earned hours of +leisure she plunged deep into them. + +"Perhaps I read sometimes when I ought to be sleeping, but it rests +me--I tell you it _rests_ me. I'm finding out that there's strength +outside of all this and you can draw on it. It's there waiting," she +said. "Everybody will know about its being there--in course of time." + +"But the time seems long," said Coombe. + +Concerning the dream she had many interesting theories. She was at first +disturbed and puzzled because it had stopped. She was anxious to find +out whether it had come back again, but, like Lord Coombe, she realised +that Robin's apparent calm must on no account be disturbed. If her +health-giving serenity could be sustained for a certain length of time, +the gates of Heaven would open to her. But at first Nurse Jones asked +herself and Lord Coombe some troubled questions. + +It came about at length that she appeared one night, in the room where +their first private talk had taken place and she had presented herself +on her way to bed, because she had something special to say. + +"It came to me when I awakened this morning as if it had been told to me +in the night. Things often seem to come that way. Do you remember, Lord +Coombe, that she said they only talked about happy things?" + +"Yes. She said it several times," Coombe answered. + +"Do you remember that he never told her where he came from? And she knew +that she must not ask questions? How _could_ he have told her of that +hell--how could he?" + +"You are right--quite!" + +"I feel sure I am. When he can talk he will tell you--if he remembers. I +wonder how much they remember--except the relief and the blessed +happiness of it? Lord Coombe, I believe as I believe I'm in this room, +that when he knew he was going to face the awful risk of trying to +escape, he knew he mustn't tell her. And he knew that in crawling +through dangers and hiding in ditches he could never be sure of being +able to lie down to sleep and concentrate on sending his soul to her. So +he told her that he might not come for some time. Oh, lord! If he'd been +caught and killed he could never-- No! No!" obstinately, "even then he +would have got back in some form--in some way. I've got to the point of +believing as much as that. He was hers!" + +"Yes. Yes. Yes," was all his slow answer. But there was deep thought in +each detached word and when she went away he walked up and down the room +with leisurely steps, looking down at the carpet. + + * * * * * + +As many hours of the day and night as those in authority would allow him +Lord Coombe sat and watched by Donal's bed. He watched from well hidden +anxiousness to see every subtle change recording itself on his being; he +watched from throbbing affection and longing to see at once any tinge of +growing natural colour, any unconscious movement perhaps a shade +stronger than the last. It was his son who lay there, he told himself, +it was the son he had remotely yearned for in his loneliness; if he had +been his father watching his sunk lids with bated breath, he would have +felt just these unmerciful pangs. + +He also watched because in the boy's hours of fevered unconsciousness he +could at times catch words--sometimes broken sentences, which threw +ghastly light upon things past. Sometimes their significance was such as +made him shudder. A condition the doctors most dreaded was one in which +monstrous scenes seem lived again--scenes in which cruelties and +maddening suffering and despairing death itself rose vividly from the +depth of subconsciousness and cried aloud for vengeance. Sometimes Donal +shuddered, tearing at his chest with both hands, more than once he lay +sobbing until only skilled effort prevented his sobs from becoming +choking danger. + +"It may be years after he regains his strength," the chief physician +said, "years before it will be safe to ask him for detail. On my own +part I would _never_ bring such horrors back to a man. You may have +noticed how the men who have borne most, absolutely refuse to talk." + +"It's an accursed fool who tries to make them," broke in one of the +younger men. "There was a fellow who had been pinned up against a barn +door and left to hang there--and a coarse, loud-mouthed lunatic asked +him to describe how it felt. The chap couldn't stand it. Do you know +what he did? He sprang at him and knocked him down. He apologized +afterwards and said it was his nerves. But there's not a man who was +there who will ever speak to that other brute again." + +The man whose name was Jackson seemed to be a clinging memory to the +skeleton when its mind wandered in the past Hades. He had been in some +way very close to the boy. He had died somehow--cruelly. There had been +blood--blood--and no one would help. Some devil had even laughed. When +that scene came back the doctors and nurses held their breath and +silently worked hard. Nothing seemed quite as heart-rending as what had +happened to Jackson. But there were endless other things to shudder at. + + * * * * * + +So the time passed and Nurse Jones found many times that she must stop +at his door on her way to her rest to say, "Don't look like that, Lord +Coombe. You need not send for his mother yet." + +Then at last--and it had been like travelling for months waterless in a +desert--she came in one day with a new and elate countenance. "Mrs. Muir +is a quiet, self-controlled woman, isn't she?" she asked. + +"Entirely self-controlled and very quiet," he answered. + +"Then if you will speak to Dr. Beresford about it I know he will allow +her to see Captain Muir for a few minutes. And, thank God, it's not +because if she doesn't see him now she'll never see him alive again. He +has all his life before him." + +"Please sit down, Nurse," Coombe spoke hastily and placed a chair as he +spoke. He did so because he had perceiving eyes. + +She sat down and covered her face with her apron for a moment. She made +no sound or movement, but caught a deep quick breath two or three times. +The relaxed strain had temporarily overpowered her. She uncovered her +face and got up almost immediately. She was not likely to give way +openly to her emotions. + +"Thank you, Lord Coombe," she said. "I've never had a case that gripped +hold of me as this has. I've often felt as though that poor half-killed +boy was more to me than he is. You might speak to Dr. Beresford now. +He's just gone in." + + * * * * * + +Therefore Lord Coombe went that afternoon to the house before which grew +the plane trees whose leaves had rustled in the dawn's first wind on the +morning Donal had sat and talked with his mother after the night of the +Dowager Duchess of Darte's dance. + +On his way his thoughts were almost uncontrollable things and he knew +the first demand of good sense was that he should control them. But he +was like an unbelievable messenger from another world--a dark world +unknown, because shadows hid it, and would not let themselves be pierced +by streaming human eyes. Donal was dead. This was what would fill this +woman's mind when he entered her house. Donal was dead. It was the +thought that had excluded all else from life for her, though he knew she +had gone on working as other broken women had done. What did people say +to women whose sons had been dead and had come back to life? It had +happened before. What _could_ one say to prepare them for the +transcendent shock of joy? What preparation could there be? + +"God help me!" he said to himself with actual devoutness as he stood at +the door. + +He had seen Helen Muir once or twice since the news of her loss had +reached her and she had looked like a most beautiful ghost and shadow of +herself. When she came into her drawing-room to meet him she was more of +a ghost and shadow than when they had last met and he saw her lips +quiver at the mere sight of him, though she came forward very quietly. + +Whatsoever helped him in response to his unconscious appeal brought to +him suddenly a wave of comprehension of her and of himself as creatures +unexpectedly near each other as they had never been before. The feeling +was remotely akin to what had been awakened in him by the pure gravity +and tenderness of Robin's baptismal good-bye kiss. He was human, she was +human, they had both been forced to bear suffering. He was bringing joy +to her. + +He met her almost as she entered the door. He made several quick steps +and he took both her hands in his and held them. It was a thing so +unheard of that she stopped and stood quite still, looking up at him. + +"Come and sit down here," he said, drawing her towards a sofa and he did +not let her hands go, and sat down at her side while she stared at him +and her breath began to come and go quickly. + +"What--?" she began, "You are changed--quite different--" + +"Yes, I am changed. Everything is changed--for us both!" + +"For us--" She touched her breast weakly. "For me--as well as you?" + +"Yes," he answered, and he still held her hands protectingly and kept +his altered eyes--the eyes of a strangely new man--upon her. They were +living, human, longing to help her--who had so long condemned him. His +hands were even warm and held hers as if to give her support. + +"You are a calm, well-balanced woman," he said. "And joy does not kill +people--even hurt them." + +There could be only one joy--only one! And she knew he knew there could +be no other. She sprang from her seat. + +"Donal!" she cried out so loud that the room rang. "Donal! Donal!" + +He was on his feet also because he still wonderfully did not let her go. + +"He is at my house. He has been there for weeks because we have had to +fight for his life. We should have called you if he had been dying. Only +an hour ago the doctor in charge gave me permission to come to you. You +may see him--for a few minutes." + +She began to tremble and sat down. + +"I shall be quiet soon," she said. "Oh, dear God! God! God! Donal!" + +Tears swept down her cheeks but he saw her begin to control herself even +the next moment. + +"May I speak to him at all?" she asked. + +"Kiss him and tell him you are waiting in the next room and can come +back any moment. What the hospital leaves free of Coombe House is at +your disposal." + +"God bless you! Oh, _forgive_ me!" + +"He escaped from a German prison by some miracle. He must be made to +forget. He must hear of nothing but happiness. There is happiness before +him--enough to force him to forget. You will accept anything he tells +you as if it were a natural thing?" + +"Accept!" she cried. "What would I _not_ accept, praising God! You are +preparing me for something. Ah! don't, don't be afraid! But--is it +maiming--darkness?" + +"No! No! It is a perfect thing. You must know it before you see him--and +be ready. Before he went to the Front he was married." + +"Married!" in a mere breath. + +Coombe went on in quick sentences. She must be prepared and she could +bear anything in the rapture of her joy. + +"He married in secret a lonely child whom the Dowager Duchess of Darte +had taken into her household. We have both taken charge of her since we +discovered she was his wife. We thought she was his widow. She has a +son. Before her marriage she was Robin Gareth-Lawless." + +"Ah!" she cried brokenly. "He would have told me--he wanted to tell +me--but he could not--because I was so hard! Oh! poor motherless +children!" + +"You never were hard, I could swear," Coombe said. "But perhaps you have +changed--as I have. If he had not thought I was hard he might have told +me-- Shall we go to him at once?" + +Together they went without a moment's delay. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + + +The dream had come back and Robin walked about the moor carrying her +baby in her arms, even though Dowie followed her. She laid him on the +heather and let him listen to the skylarks and there was in her face +such a look, that, in times past if she had seen it, Dowie would have +believed that it could only mean translation from earth. + +But when Lord Coombe came for a brief visit he took Dowie to walk alone +with him upon the moor. When they set out together she found herself +involuntarily stealing furtive sidelong glances at him. There was that +in his face which drew her eyes in spite of her. It was a look so +intense and new that once she caught her breath, trembling. It was then +that he turned to look at her and began to talk. He began--and went +on--and as she listened there came to her sudden flooding tears and more +than once a loud startled sob of joy. + +"But he begs that she shall not see him until he is less ghastly to +behold. He says the memory of such a face would tell her things she must +never know. His one thought is that she must not know. Things happen to +a man's nerves when he has seen and borne the ultimate horrors. Men have +gone mad under the prolonged torture. He sometimes has moments of +hideous collapse when he cannot shut out certain memories. He is more +afraid of such times than of anything else. He feels he must get hold of +himself." + +Dowie's step slackened until it stopped. Her almost awed countenance +told him what she felt she must know or perish. He felt that she had her +rights and one of them was the right to be told. She had been a strong +tower of honest faith and love. + +"My lord, might I ask if you have told him--all about it?" + +"Yes, Dowie," he answered. "All is well and no one but ourselves will +ever know. The marriage in the dark old church is no longer a marriage. +Only the first one--which he can prove--stands." + +The telling of his story to Donal had been a marvellous thing because he +had so controlled its drama that it had even been curiously undramatic. +He had made it a mere catalogued statement of facts. As Donal had lain +listening his heart had seemed to turn over in his breast. + +"If I had _known_ you!" he panted low. "If we had known each other! We +did not!" + +Later, bit by bit, he told him of Jackson--only of Jackson. He never +spoke of other things. When put together the "bit by bit" amounted to +this: + +"He was a queer, simple sort of American. He was full of ideals and a +kind of unbounded belief in his country. He had enlisted in Canada at +the beginning. He always believed America would come in. He was sure the +Germans knew she would and that was why they hated Americans. The more +they saw her stirred up, the more they hated the fellows they +caught--and the worse they treated them. They were hellish to Jackson!" + +He had stopped at this point and Coombe had noted a dreaded look dawning +in his eyes. + +"Don't go on, my boy. It's bad for you," he broke in. + +Donal shook his head a little as if to shake something away. + +"I won't go on with--that," he said. "But the dream--I must tell you +about that. It saved me from going mad--and Jackson did. He believed in +a lot of things I'd not heard of except as jokes. He called them New +Thought and Theosophy and Christian Science. He wasn't clever, but he +_believed_. And it helped him. When I'm stronger I'll try to tell you. +Subconscious mind and astral body came into it. I had begun to see +things--just through starvation and agony. I told him about Robin when I +scarcely knew what I was saying. He tried to hold me quiet by saying her +name to me over and over. He'd pull me up with it. He began to talk to +me about dreaming. When your body's not fed--you begin to see clear--if +your spirit is not held down." + +He was getting tired and panting a little. Coombe bent nearer to him. + +"I can guess the rest. I have been reading books on such subjects. He +told you how to concentrate on dreaming and try to get near her. He +helped you by suggestion himself--" + +"He used to lie awake night after night and do it--and I began to +dream-- No, it was not a dream. I believe I got to her-- He did it--and +they killed him!" + +"Hush! hush!" cried Coombe. "Of all men he would most ardently implore +you to hold yourself still--" + +Donal made some strange effort. He lay still. + +"Yes, he would! Yes--of all the souls in the other world he'd be +strongest. He saved me--he saved Robin--he saved the child--you--all of +us! Perhaps he's here now! He said he'd come if he could. He believed he +could." + +He lay quiet for a few seconds and then the Donal smile they had all +adored lighted up his face. + +"Jackson, old chap!" he said. "I can't see you--but I'll do what you +want me to do--I'll do it." + +He fainted the next minute and the doctors came to him. + +The facts which came later still were that Jackson had developed +consumption, and exposure and brutality had done their worst. And Donal +had seen his heart wringing end. + +"But he knew America would come in. I believed it too, because he did. +Just at the right time. 'All the rest have fought like mad till they're +tired--though they'll die fighting,' he said. 'America's not tired. +She's got everything and she sees red with frenzy at the bestiality. +She'll _burst_ in--just at the right time!' Jackson _knew_!" + + * * * * * + +"I must not go trembling to her," Donal said on the morning when at +last--long last, it seemed--he drove with Coombe up the moor road to +Darreuch. "But," bravely, "what does it matter? I'm trembling because +I'm going to her!" + +He had been talking about her for weeks--for days he had been able to +talk of nothing else-- Coombe had listened as if he heard echoes from a +past when he would have so talked and dared not utter a word. He had +talked as a boy lover talks--as a young bridegroom might let himself +pour his joy forth to his most sacredly trusted friend. + +Her loveliness, the velvet of her lifting eyes--the wonder of her +trusting soul--the wonder of her unearthly selfless sweetness! + +"It was always the same kind of marvel every time you saw her," he said +boyishly. "You couldn't believe there could be such sweetness on +earth--until you saw her again. Even her eyes and her little mouth and +her softness were like that. You had to tell yourself about them over +and over again to make them real when she wasn't there!" + +He was still thin, but the ghastly hollows had filled and his smile +scarcely left his face--and he had waited as long as he could. + +"And to see her with a little child in her arms!" he had murmured. +"Robin! Holding it--and being careful! And showing it to me!" + +After he first caught sight of the small old towers of Darreuch he could +not drag his eyes from them. + +"She's there! She's there! They're both there together!" he said over +and over. Just before they left the carriage he wakened as it were and +spoke to Coombe. + +"She won't be frightened," he said. "I told her--last night." + +Coombe had asked himself if he must go to her. But, marvellously even to +him, there was no need. + +When they stood in the dark little hall--as she had come down the stone +stairway on the morning when she bade him her sacred little good-bye, so +she came down again--like a white blossom drifting down from its +branch--like a white feather from a dove's wing.--But she held her baby +in her arms and to Donal her cheeks and lips and eyes were as he had +first seen them in the Gardens. + +He trembled as he watched her and even found himself +spellbound--waiting. + +"Donal! Donal!" + +And they were in his arms--the soft warm things--and he sat down upon +the lowest step and held them--rocking--and trembling still more--but +with the gates of peace open and earth and war shut out. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robin, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBIN *** + +***** This file should be named 18945-8.txt or 18945-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/4/18945/ + +Produced by Hilary Caws-Elwitt and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18945-8.zip b/18945-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c8a515e --- /dev/null +++ b/18945-8.zip diff --git a/18945-h.zip b/18945-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..376fddb --- /dev/null +++ b/18945-h.zip diff --git a/18945-h/18945-h.htm b/18945-h/18945-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9aa2e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/18945-h/18945-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11581 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Robin, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + p.center { text-align: center; } + p.c-small {text-align: center; + font-size: small; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr.chap { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + span.nobreak { + white-space: nowrap; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + ins.correction {border-bottom-style: dotted; + border-bottom-color: red; + border-bottom-width: 1px; + text-decoration: none; } + + .toc {font-size: smaller;} + +// --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robin, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +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: Robin + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: July 30, 2006 [EBook #18945] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBIN *** + + + + +Produced by Hilary Caws-Elwitt and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1> +ROBIN</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT</h2> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF<br /> +"THE SHUTTLE"<br /> +"THE SECRET GARDEN"<br /> +"THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE OF COOMBE"<br /> +ETC.</p> + +<p class="center"><img src="images/fa_stokes.png" height="233" width="190" alt="" /></p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> +FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY<br /> +PUBLISHERS +</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p class="c-small"> +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY<br /> +FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT<br /> +<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY<br /> +THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="c-small">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> + +<!-- TOC inserted for the use of the reader. --> +<p class="toc center"><ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Original text does not have a table of contents; inserted for the use of the reader.">Jump to chapters</ins></p> +<p class="toc center"> +<a href="#THE_YEARS_BEFORE"><b>THE YEARS BEFORE</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>I</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>II</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>III</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>IV</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>V</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>VI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>VII</b></a> <br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>VIII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>IX</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>X</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>XI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>XII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>XIII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>XIV</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>XV</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>XVI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>XVII</b></a> <br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>XVIII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>XIX</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>XX</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>XXI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>XXII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>XXIII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>XXIV</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>XXV</b></a> <br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>XXVI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>XXVII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>XXVIII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>XXIX</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>XXX</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"><b>XXXI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"><b>XXXII</b></a> <br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"><b>XXXIII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV"><b>XXXIV</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV"><b>XXXV</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI"><b>XXXVI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII"><b>XXXVII</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII"><b>XXXVIII</b></a> <br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX"><b>XXXIX</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL"><b>XL</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI"><b>XLI</b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII"><b>XLII</b></a> +</p> +<!-- End web version TOC. --> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_YEARS_BEFORE" id="THE_YEARS_BEFORE"></a>THE YEARS BEFORE</h2> + +<h3>Outline Arranged by Hamilton Williamson</h3> + +<h4>from</h4> + +<h3><i>THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE OF COOMBE</i></h3> + + +<p>In the years when Victorian standards and ideals began to dance an +increasingly rapid jig before amazed lookers-on, who presently found +themselves dancing as madly as the rest—in these years, there lived in +Mayfair, in a slice of a house, Robert Gareth-Lawless and his lovely +young wife. So light and airy was she to earthly vision and so +diaphanous the texture of her mentality that she was known as "Feather."</p> + +<p>The slice of a house between two comparatively stately mansions in the +"right street" was a rash venture of the honeymoon.</p> + +<p>Robert—well born, irresponsible, without resources—evolved a carefully +detailed method of living upon nothing whatever, of keeping out of the +way of duns, and telling lies with aptness and outward gaiety. But a +year of giving smart little dinners and going to smart big dinners ended +in a condition somewhat akin to the feat of balancing oneself on the +edge of a sword.</p> + +<p>Then Robin was born. She was an intruder and a calamity, of course. That +a Feather should become a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> parent gave rise to much wit of light weight +when Robin was exhibited in the form of a bundle of lace.</p> + +<p>It was the Head of the House of Coombe who asked:</p> + +<p>"What will you do with her?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" Feather repeated. "What is it people 'do' with babies? I don't +know. I wouldn't touch her for the world. She frightens me."</p> + +<p>Coombe said:</p> + +<p>"She is staring at me. There is antipathy in her gaze." He stared back +unwaveringly also, but with a sort of cold interest.</p> + +<p>"The Head of the House of Coombe" was not a title to be found in Burke +or Debrett. It was a fine irony of the Head's own. The peerage recorded +him as a marquis and added several lesser attendant titles.</p> + +<p>To be born the Head of the House is a weighty and awe-inspiring +thing—one is called upon to be an example.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure what I am an example of—or to," he said, on one +occasion, in his light, rather cold and detached way, "which is why I at +times regard myself in that capacity with a slightly ribald lightness."</p> + +<p>A reckless young woman once asked him:</p> + +<p>"Are you as wicked as people say you are?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know. It is so difficult to decide," he answered. +"Perhaps I am as wicked as I know how to be. And I may have painful +limitations or I may not."</p> + +<p>He had reached the age when it was safe to apply to him that vague term +"elderly," and marriage might have been regarded as imperative. But he +had remained unmarried and seemed to consider his abstinence entirely +his own affair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> + +<p>Courts and capitals knew him, and his opportunities were such as gave +him all ease as an onlooker. He saw closely those who sat with knit +brows and cautiously hovering hand at the great chess-board which is +formed by the map of Europe.</p> + +<p>As a statesman or a diplomat he would have gone far, but he had been too +much occupied with Life as an entertainment, too self-indulgent for work +of any order. Having, however, been born with a certain type of brain, +it observed and recorded in spite of him, thereby adding flavour and +interest to existence. But that was all.</p> + +<p>Texture and colour gave him almost abnormal pleasure. For this reason, +perhaps, he was the most perfectly dressed man in London.</p> + +<p>It was at a garden-party that he first saw Feather. When his eyes fell +upon her, he was talking to a group of people and he stopped speaking. +Some one standing quite near him said afterwards that he had, for a +second or so, became pale—almost as if he saw something which +frightened him. He was still rather pale when Feather lifted her eyes to +him. But he had not talked to her for fifteen minutes before he knew +that there was no real reason why he should ever again lose his colour +at the sight of her. He had thought, at first, there was.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of an acquaintance which gave rise to much +argument over tea-cups regarding the degree of Coombe's interest in her. +Remained, however, the fact that he managed to see a great deal of her. +Feather was guilelessly doubtless concerning him. She was quite sure +that he was in love with her, and very practically aware that the more +men of the class of the Head of the House of Coombe who came in and out +of the slice of a house,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> the more likely the dwellers in it were to get +good invitations and continued credit.</p> + +<p>The realisation of these benefits was cut short. Robert, amazingly and +unnaturally, failed her by dying. He was sent away in a hearse and the +tiny house ceased to represent hilarious little parties.</p> + +<p>Bills were piled high everywhere. The rent was long overdue and must be +paid. She had no money to pay it, none to pay the servants' wages.</p> + +<p>"It's awful—it's awful—it's awful!" broke out between her sobs.</p> + +<p>From her bedroom window—at evening—she watched "Cook," the smart +footman, the nurse, the maids, climb into four-wheelers and be driven +away.</p> + +<p>"They're gone—all of them!" she gasped. "There's no one left in the +house. It's empty!"</p> + +<p>Then was Feather seized with a panic. She had something like hysterics, +falling face downward upon the carpet and clutching her hair until it +fell down. She was not a person to be judged—she was one of the +unexplained incidents of existence.</p> + +<p>The night drew in more closely. A prolonged wailing shriek tore through +the utter soundlessness of the house. It came from the night-nursery. It +was Robin who had wakened and was screaming.</p> + +<p>"I—I <i>won't</i>!" Feather protested, with chattering teeth. "I won't! I +<i>won't</i>!"</p> + +<p>She had never done anything for the child since its birth. To reach her +now, she would be obliged to go out into the dark—past Robert's +bedroom—<i>the</i> room.</p> + +<p>"I—I couldn't—even if I wanted to!" she quaked. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> daren't! I +daren't! I wouldn't do it—for a <i>million pounds</i>!"</p> + +<p>The screams took on a more determined note. She flung herself on her +bed, burrowing her head under the coverings and pillows she dragged over +her ears to shut out the sounds.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Feather herself had not known, nor in fact had any other human being +known why Lord Coombe drifted into seeming rather to follow her about. +But there existed a reason, and this it was, and this alone, which +caused him to appear—the apotheosis of exquisite fitness in form—at +her door.</p> + +<p>He listened while she poured it all forth, sobbing. Her pretty hair +loosened itself and fell about her in wild but enchanting disorder.</p> + +<p>"I would do anything—<i>any one</i> asked me, if they would take care of +me."</p> + +<p>A shuddering knowledge that it was quite true that she would do anything +for any man who would take care of her produced an effect on him nothing +else would have produced.</p> + +<p>"Do I understand," he said, "that you are willing that <i>I</i> should +arrange this for you?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean—really?" she faltered. "Will you—will you—?"</p> + +<p>Her uplifted eyes were like a young angel's brimming with crystal drops +which slipped—as a child's tears slip—down her cheeks.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The florist came and refilled the window-boxes of the slice of a house +with an admirable arrangement of fresh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> flowers. It became an +established fact that the household had not fallen to pieces, and its +frequenters gradually returned to it, wearing, indeed, the air of people +who had never really remained away from it.</p> + +<p>As a bird in captivity lives in its cage and, perhaps, believes it to be +the world, Robin lived in her nursery. She was put to bed and taken up, +she was fed and dressed in it, and once a day she was taken out of it +downstairs and into the street. That was all.</p> + +<p>It is a somewhat portentous thing to realise that a newborn human +creature can only know what it is taught. To Robin the Lady Downstairs +was merely a radiant and beautiful being of whom one might catch a +glimpse through a door, or if one pressed one's face against the window +pane at the right moment. On the very rare occasions when the Lady +appeared on the threshold of the day-nursery, Robin stood and stared +with immense startled eyes and answered in a whisper the banal little +questions put to her.</p> + +<p>So she remained unaware of mothers and unaware of affection. She never +played with other children. Andrews, her nurse—as behooved one employed +in a house about which there "was talk" bore herself with a lofty and +exclusive air.</p> + +<p>"My rule is to keep myself to myself," she said in the kitchen, "and to +look as if I was the one that would turn up noses, if noses was to be +turned up. There's those that would snatch away their children if I let +Robin begin to make up to them."</p> + +<p>But one morning, when Robin was watching some quarrelsome sparrows, an +old acquaintance surprised Andrews by appearing in the Gardens and +engaged her in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> conversation so delightful that Robin was forgotten to +the extent of being allowed to follow her sparrows round a clump of +shrubbery out of sight.</p> + +<p>It was while she watched them that she heard footsteps that stopped near +her. She looked up. A big boy in Highland kilts and bonnet and sporan +was standing by her. He spread and curved his red mouth, then began to +run and prance round in a circle, capering like a Shetland pony to +exhibit at once his friendliness and his prowess. After a minute or two +he stopped, breathing fast and glowing.</p> + +<p>"My pony in Scotland does that. His name is Chieftain. I'm called Donal. +What are you called?"</p> + +<p>"Robin," she answered, her lips and voice trembling with joy. He was so +beautiful.</p> + +<p>They began to play together while Andrews' friend recounted intimate +details of a country house scandal.</p> + +<p>Donal picked leaves from a lilac bush. Robin learned that if you laid a +leaf flat on the seat of a bench you could prick beautiful patterns on +the leaf's greenness. Donal had—in his rolled down stocking—a little +dirk. He did the decoration with the point of this while Robin looked +on, enthralled.</p> + +<p>Through what means children so quickly convey to each other the entire +history of their lives is a sort of occult secret. Before Donal was +taken home, Robin knew that he lived in Scotland and had been brought to +London on a visit, that his other name was Muir, that the person he +called "mother" was a woman who took care of him. He spoke of her quite +often.</p> + +<p>"I will bring one of my picture-books to-morrow," he said grandly. "Can +you read at all?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," answered Robin, adoring him. "What are picture books?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't you any?" he blurted out.</p> + +<p>She lifted her eyes to the glowing blueness of his and said quite +simply, "I haven't anything."</p> + +<p>His old nurse's voice came from the corner where she sat.</p> + +<p>"I must go back to Nanny," he said, feeling, somehow, as if he had been +running fast. "I'll come to-morrow and bring <i>two</i> picture books."</p> + +<p>He put his strong little eight-year-old arms round her and kissed her +full on the mouth. It was the first time, for Robin. Andrews did not +kiss. There was no one else.</p> + +<p>"Don't you like to be kissed?" said Donal, uncertain because she looked +so startled and had not kissed him back.</p> + +<p>"Kissed," she repeated, with a small caught breath. "Ye—es." She knew +now what it was. It was being kissed. She drew nearer at once and lifted +up her face as sweetly and gladly as a flower lifts itself to the sun. +"Kiss me again," she said, quite eagerly. And this time, she kissed too. +When he ran quickly away, she stood looking after him with smiling, +trembling lips, uplifted, joyful—wondering and amazed.</p> + +<p>The next morning Andrews had a cold and her younger sister Anne was +called in to perform her duties. The doctor pronounced the cold serious, +and Andrews was confined to her bed. Hours spent under the trees reading +were entirely satisfactory to Anne. And so, for two weeks, the +soot-sprinkled London square was as the Garden of Eden to Donal and +Robin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></p> + +<p>In her fine, aloof way, Helen Muir had learned much in her stays in +London and during her married life—in the exploring of foreign cities +with her husband. She was not proud of the fact that in the event of the +death of Lord Coombe's shattered and dissipated nephew her son would +become heir presumptive to Coombe Court. She had not asked questions +about Coombe. It had not been necessary. Once or twice she had seen +Feather by chance. She was to see her again—by Feather's intention.</p> + +<p>With Donal prancing at her side, Mrs. Muir went to the Gardens to meet +the child Nanny had described as "a bit of witch fire dancing—with her +colour and her big silk curls in a heap, and Donal staring at her like a +young man at a beauty."</p> + +<p>Robin was waiting behind the lilac bushes and her nurse was already deep +in the mystery of "Lady Audley."</p> + +<p>"There she is!" cried Donal, as he ran to her. "My mother has come with +me. This is Robin, mother! This is Robin."</p> + +<p>Her exquisiteness and physical brilliancy gave Mrs. Muir something not +unlike a slight shock. Oh! No wonder, since she was like that. She +stooped and kissed the round cheek delicately. She took the little hand +and they walked round the garden, then sat on a bench and watched the +children "make up" things to play.</p> + +<p>A victoria was driving past. Suddenly a sweetly hued figure spoke to the +coachman. "Stop here," she said. "I want to get out."</p> + +<p>Robin's eyes grew very round and large and filled with a worshipping +light.</p> + +<p>"It is," she gasped, "the Lady Downstairs!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span></p> + +<p>Feather floated near to the seat and paused, smiling. "Where is your +nurse, Robin?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"She is only a few yards away," said Mrs. Muir.</p> + +<p>"So kind of you to let Robin play with your boy. Don't let her bore you. +I am Mrs. Gareth-Lawless."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence, a delicate little silence.</p> + +<p>"I recognized you as Mrs. Muir at once," added Feather, unperturbed and +smiling brilliantly. "I saw your portrait at the Grovenor."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Muir, gently.</p> + +<p>"I wanted very much to see your son; that was why I came."</p> + +<p>"Yes," still gently from Mrs. Muir.</p> + +<p>"Because of Coombe, you know. We are such old friends. How queer that +the two little things have made friends too. I didn't know."</p> + +<p>She bade them good-bye and strayed airily away.</p> + +<p>And that night Donal was awakened, was told that "something" had +happened, that they were to go back to Scotland. He was accustomed to do +as he was told. He got out of bed and began to dress, but he swallowed +very hard.</p> + +<p>"I shall not see Robin," he said in a queer voice. "She won't find me +when she goes behind the lilac bushes. She won't know why I don't come." +Then, in a way that was strangely grown up: "She has no one but me to +remember."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The next morning a small, rose-coloured figure stood still for so long +in the gardens that it began to look rigid and some one said, "I wonder +what that little girl is waiting for."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p> + +<p>A child has no words out of which to build hopes and fears. Robin could +only wait in the midst of a slow dark rising tide of something she had +no name for. Suddenly she knew. He was <i>gone</i>! She crept under the +shrubbery. She cried, she sobbed. If Andrews had seen her she would have +said she was "in a tantrum." But she was not. Her world had been torn +away.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Five weeks later Feather was giving a very little dinner in the slice of +a house. There was Harrowby, a good looking young man with dark eyes, +and the Starling who was "emancipated" and whose real name was Miss +March. The third diner was a young actor with a low, veiled +voice—Gerald Vesey—who adored and understood Feather's clothes.</p> + +<p>Over coffee in the drawing-room Coombe joined them just at the moment +that Feather was "going to tell them something to make them laugh."</p> + +<p>"Robin is in love!" she cried. "She is five years old and she has been +deserted and Andrews came to tell me she can neither eat nor sleep. The +doctor says she has had a shock."</p> + +<p>Coombe did not join in the ripple of laughter, but he looked interested.</p> + +<p>"Robin is a stimulating name," said Harrowby. "<i>Is</i> it too late to let +us see her?"</p> + +<p>"They usually go to sleep at seven, I believe," remarked Coombe, "but of +course I am not an authority."</p> + +<p>Robin was not asleep, though she had long been in bed with her eyes +closed. She had heard Andrews say to her sister Anne:</p> + +<p>"Lord Coombe's the reason. She does not want her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> boy to see or speak to +him, so she whisked him back to Scotland."</p> + +<p>"Is Lord Coombe as bad as they say?" put in Anne, with bated breath.</p> + +<p>"As to his badness," Robin heard Andrews answer, "there's some that +can't say enough against him. It's what he is in this house that does +it. She won't have her boy playing with a child like Robin."</p> + +<p>Then—even as there flashed upon Robin the revelation of her own +unfitness—came a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>She was taken up, dressed in her prettiest frock and led down the narrow +stairway. She heard the Lady say:</p> + +<p>"Shake hands with Lord Coombe."</p> + +<p>Robin put her hand behind her back—she who had never disobeyed since +she was born!</p> + +<p>"Be pretty mannered, Miss Robin my dear," Andrews instructed, "and shake +hands with his Lordship."</p> + +<p>Each person in the little drawing-room saw the queer flame in the +child-face. She shrilled out her words:</p> + +<p>"Andrews will pinch me—Andrews will pinch me! But—No—No!"</p> + +<p>She kept her hands behind her back and hatred surged up in her soul.</p> + +<p>In spite of her tender years, the doctor held to the theory that Robin +had suffered a shock; she must be taken away to be helped by the bracing +air of the Norfolk coast. Before she went, workmen were to be seen +coming in and out of the house. When she returned to London, she was led +into rooms she had never been in before—light and airy rooms with +pretty walls and furniture.</p> + +<p>It was "a whim of Coombe's," as Feather put it, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span> she should no +longer occupy the little dog-kennels of nurseries, so these new +apartments had been added in the rear. A whim of his also that Andrews, +whose disciplinary methods included pinching, should be dismissed and +replaced by Dowson, a motherly creature with a great deal of common +sense. Robin's lonely little heart opened to her new nurse, who became +in time her "Dowie."</p> + +<p>It was Dowson who made it clear to Lord Coombe, at length, that Robin +had reached the age when she needed a governess, and it was he who said +to Feather a few days later:</p> + +<p>"A governess will come here to-morrow at eleven o'clock. She is a +Mademoiselle Vallé. She is accustomed to the education of young +children. She will present herself for your approval."</p> + +<p>"What on earth can it matter?" Feather cried.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter to you," he answered. "It chances for the time being +to matter to <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Vallé was an intelligent, mature French woman, with a +peculiar power to grasp an intricate situation. She learned to love the +child she taught—a child so strangely alone. As time went on she came +to know that Robin was to receive every educational advantage, every +instruction. In his impersonal, aloof way Coombe was fixed in his +intention to provide her with life's defences. As she grew, graceful as +a willow wand, into a girlhood startlingly lovely, she learned modern +languages, learned to dance divinely.</p> + +<p>And all the while he was deeply conscious that her infant hatred had not +lessened—that he could show her no reason why it should.</p> + +<p>There were black hours when she was in deadly peril from a human beast, +mad with her beauty. Coombe had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> almost miraculously saved her, but her +detestation of him still held.</p> + +<p>Her one thought—her one hope—was to learn—learn, so that she might +make her own living. Mademoiselle Vallé supported her in this, and +Coombe understood.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In one of the older London squares there was a house upon the broad +doorsteps of which Lord Coombe stood oftener than upon any other. The +old Dowager Duchess of Darte, having surrounded herself with almost +royal dignity, occupied that house in an enforced seclusion. She was a +confirmed rheumatic invalid, but her soul was as strong as it was many +years before, when she had given its support to Coombe in his unbearable +hours. She had poured out her strength in silence, and in silence he had +received it. She saved him from slipping over the verge of madness.</p> + +<p>But there came a day when he spoke to her of this—of the one woman he +had loved, Princess Alixe of <span class="nobreak">X——</span>:</p> + +<p>"There was never a human thing so transparently pure, and she was the +possession of a brute incarnate. She shook with terror before him. He +killed her."</p> + +<p>"I believe he did," she said, unsteadily. "He was not received here at +Court afterward."</p> + +<p>"He killed her. But she would have died of horror if he had not struck +her a blow. I saw that. I was in attendance on him at Windsor."</p> + +<p>"When I first knew you," the Duchess said gravely.</p> + +<p>"There was a night—I was young—young—when I found myself face to face +with her in the stillness of the wood. I went quite mad for a time. I +threw myself face downward on the earth and sobbed. She knelt and prayed +for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span> own soul as well as mine. I kissed the hem of her dress and +left her standing—alone."</p> + +<p>After a silence he added:</p> + +<p>"It was the next night that I heard her shrieks. Then she died."</p> + +<p>The Duchess knew what else had died: the high adventure of youth and joy +of life in him.</p> + +<p>On a table beside her winged chair were photographs of two women, who, +while obviously belonging to periods of some twenty years apart, were in +face and form so singularly alike that they might have been the same +person. One was the Princess Alixe of X—— and the other—Feather.</p> + +<p>"The devil of chance," Coombe said, "sometimes chooses to play tricks. +Such a trick was played on me."</p> + +<p>It was the photograph of Feather he took up and set a strange +questioning gaze upon.</p> + +<p>"When I saw this," he said, "this—exquisitely smiling at me in a sunny +garden—the tomb opened under my feet and I stood on the brink of +it—twenty-five again."</p> + +<p>He made clear to her certain facts which most persons would have +ironically disbelieved. He ended with the story of Robin.</p> + +<p>"I am determined," he explained, "to stand between the child and what +would be inevitable. Her frenzy of desire to support herself arises from +her loathing of the position of accepting support from me. I sympathise +with her entirely."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Vallé is an intelligent woman," the Duchess said. "Send +her to me; I shall talk to her. Then she can bring the child."</p> + +<p>And so it was arranged that Robin should be taken into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span> the house in the +old fashioned square to do for the Duchess what a young relative might +have done. And, a competent person being needed to take charge of the +linen, "Dowie" would go to live under the same roof.</p> + +<p>Feather's final thrust in parting with her daughter was:</p> + +<p>"Donal Muir is a young man by this time. I wonder what his mother would +do now if he turned up at your mistress' house and began to make love to +you." She laughed outright. "You'll get into all sorts of messes but +that would be the nicest one!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Duchess came to understand that Robin held it deep in her mind that +she was a sort of young outcast.</p> + +<p>"If she consorted," she thought, "with other young things and shared +their pleasures she would forget it."</p> + +<p>She talked the matter over with her daughter, Lady Lothwell.</p> + +<p>"I am not launching a girl in society," she said, "I only want to help +her to know a few nice young people. I shall begin with your children. +They are mine if I am only a grandmother. A small dinner and a small +dance—and George and Kathryn may be the beginning of an interesting +experiment."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Duchess was rarely mistaken. The experiment was interesting. For +George—Lord Halwyn—it held a certain element of disaster. It was he +who danced with Robin first. He had heard of the girl who was a sort of +sublimated companion to his grandmother. He had encountered companions +before. This one, as she flew like a blown leaf across the floor and +laughed up into his face with wide eyes produced a new effect and was a +new kind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span></p> + +<p>He led her to the conservatory. He was extremely young and his fleeting +emotions had never known a tight rein. An intoxicating hot-house perfume +filled his nostrils. Suddenly he let himself go and was kissing the warm +velvet of her slim little neck.</p> + +<p>"You—you—you've spoiled everything in the world!" she cried. +"Now"—with a desolate, horrible little sob—"now I can only go +back—<i>back</i>." She spoke as if she were Cinderella and he had made the +clock strike twelve. Her voice had absolute grief in it.</p> + +<p>"I say,"—he was contrite—"don't speak like that. I beg pardon. I'll +grovel. Don't— Oh, Kathryn! Come here!"</p> + +<p>This last because his sister had suddenly appeared.</p> + +<p>Kathryn bore Robin away. Boys like George didn't really matter, she +pointed out, though of course it was bad manners. She had been kissed +herself, it seemed. As they walked between banked flowers she added:</p> + +<p>"By the way, somebody important has been assassinated in one of the +Balkan countries. Lord Coombe has just come in and is talking it over +with grandmamma."</p> + +<p>As they neared the entrance to the ballroom she paused with a new kind +of impish smile.</p> + +<p>"The very best looking boy in all England," she said, "is dancing with +Sara Studleigh. He dropped in by chance to call and grandmamma made him +stay. His name is Donal Muir. He is Lord Coombe's heir. Here he comes. +Look!"</p> + +<p>He was now scarcely two yards away. Almost as if he had been called he +turned his eyes toward Robin and straight into hers they +laughed—straight into hers.</p> + +<p>The incident of their meeting was faultlessly correct; also, when Lady +Lothwell appeared, she presented him to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span> Robin as if the brief ceremony +were one of the most ordinary in existence.</p> + +<p>They danced for a time without a word. She wondered if he could not feel +the beating of her heart.</p> + +<p>"That—is a beautiful waltz," he said at last, as if it were a sort of +emotional confidence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered. Only, "Yes."</p> + +<p>Once round the great ballroom, twice, and he gave a little laugh and +spoke again.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask you a question. May I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is your name Robin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." She could scarcely breathe it.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was. I hoped it was—after I first began to suspect. I +<i>hoped</i> it was."</p> + +<p>"It is—it is."</p> + +<p>"Did we once play together in a garden?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes."</p> + +<p>Back swept the years, and the wonderful happiness began again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the shining ballroom the music rose and fell and swelled again into +ecstasy as he held her white young lightness in his arm and they swayed +and darted and swooped like things of the air—while the old Duchess and +Lord Coombe looked on almost unseeing and talked in murmurs of +Sarajevo.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>ROBIN</h1> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>ROBIN</h2> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>It was a soft starlit night mystically changing into dawn when Donal +Muir left the tall, grave house on Eaton Square after the strangely +enchanted dance given by the old Dowager Duchess of Darte. A certain +impellingness of mood suggested that exercise would be a good thing and +he decided to walk home. It was an impellingness of body as well as +mind. He had remained later than the relative who had by chance been +responsible for his being brought, an uninvited guest, to the party. The +Duchess had not known that he was in London. It may also be accepted as +a fact that to this festivity given for the pleasure of Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless' daughter, she might not have chosen to assume the +responsibility of extending him an invitation. She knew something of his +mother and had sometimes discussed her with her old friend, Lord Coombe. +She admired Helen Muir greatly and was also much touched by certain +aspects of her maternity. What Lord Coombe had told her of the meeting +of the two children in the Gardens, of their innocent child passion of +attraction for each other, and of the unchildlike tragedy their enforced +parting had obviously been to both had at once deeply interested and +moved her. Coombe had only been able to relate certain surface incidents +connected with the matter, but they had been incidents not easy to +forget and from which unusual things might be deduced. No! She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>would not +have felt prepared to be the first to deliberately throw these two young +people across each other's paths at this glowing moment of their early +blooming—knowing as she did Helen Muir's strongly anxious desire to +keep them apart.</p> + +<p>She had seen Donal Muir several times as the years had passed and had +not been blind to the physical beauty and allure of charm the rest of +the world saw and proclaimed with suitable adjectives. When the intimate +friend who was his relative appeared with him in her drawing-room and +she found standing before her, respectfully appealing for welcome with a +delightful smile, this quite incomparably good-looking young man, she +was conscious of a secret momentary disturbance and a recognition of the +fact that something a shade startling had happened.</p> + +<p>"When a thing of the sort occurs entirely without one's aid and rather +against one's will—one may as well submit," she said later to Lord +Coombe. "Endeavouring to readjust matters is merely meddling with Fate +and always ends in disaster. As an incident, I felt there was a hint in +it that it would be the part of wisdom to leave things alone."</p> + +<p>She had watched the two dancing with a kind of absorption in her gaze. +She had seen them go out of the room into the conservatory. She had +known exactly when they had returned and, seeing the look on their young +faces, had understood why the eyes of the beholders followed them.</p> + +<p>When Lord Coombe came in with the ominous story of the assassination at +Sarajevo, all else had been swept from her mind. There had been place in +her being for nothing but the shock of a monstrous recognition. She had +been a gravely conscious looker-on at the slow but never ceasing gr<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>owth +of a world peril for too many years not to be widely awake to each sign +of its development.</p> + +<p>"Servia, Russia, Austria, Germany. It will form a pretext and a clear +road to France and England," Lord Coombe had said.</p> + +<p>"A broad, clear road," the Duchess had agreed breathlessly—and, while +she gazed before her, ceased to see the whirl of floating and fluttering +butterfly-wings of gauze or to hear the music to whose measure they +fluttered and floated.</p> + +<p>But no sense of any connection with Sarajevo disturbed the swing of the +fox trot or the measure of the tango, and when Donal Muir walked out +into the summer air of the starlit street and lifted his face, because +already a faint touch of primrose dawn was showing itself on the eastern +sky, in his young world there was only recognition of a vague tumult of +heart and brain and blood.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" he was thinking. "What have I been doing— What +have I been saying? I've been like a chap in a dream. I'm not awake +yet."</p> + +<p>All that he had said to the girl was a simple fact. He had exaggerated +nothing. If, in what now seemed that long-ago past, he had not been a +sturdy, normal little lad surrounded by love and friendliness, with his +days full of healthy play and pleasure, the child tragedy of their being +torn apart might have left ugly marks upon his mind, and lurked there, a +morbid memory. And though, in time, rebellion and suffering had died +away, he had never really forgotten. Even to the cricket-playing, +larking boy at Eton there had now and then returned, with queer +suddenness, recollections which gave him odd moments of resurrected +misery. They passed away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> but at long intervals they came back and +always with absolute reality. At Oxford the intervals had been longer +but a certain picture was one whose haunting never lost its clearness. +It was a vision of a colour-warm child kneeling on the grass, her eyes +uplifted, expressing only a lonely patience, and he could actually hear +her humble little voice as she said:</p> + +<p>"I—I haven't anything." And it always roused him to rage.</p> + +<p>Then there was the piteous break in her voice when she hid her eyes with +her arm and said of her beast of a mother:</p> + +<p>"She—doesn't <i>like</i> me!"</p> + +<p>"Damn! Damn!" he used to say every time the thing came back. "Oh! +damn!—damn!" And the expletive never varied in its spontaneity.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As he walked under the primrose sky and breathed in the faint fragrant +stir of the freshening morning air, he who had always felt joyously the +sense of life knew more than ever before the keen rapture of living. The +springing lightness of his own step as it rang on the pavement was part +of it. It was as though he were still dancing and he almost felt +something warm and light in his arm and saw a little head of dark silk +near his breast.</p> + +<p>Throughout his life he had taken all his joys to his closest companion +and nearest intimate—his mother. Theirs had not been a common life +together. He had not even tried to explain to himself the harmony and +gaiety of their nearness in which there seemed no separation of years<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>. +She had drawn and held him to <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: original text reads "held him to the the wonder"">the</ins> wonder of +her charm and had been the fine flavour of his existence. It was +actually true that he had so far had no boyish love affairs because he +had all unconsciously been in love with the beautiful completeness of +her.</p> + +<p>Always when he returned home after festivities, he paused for a moment +outside her bedroom door because he so often found her awake and waiting +to talk to him if he were inclined to talk—to listen—to laugh +softly—or perhaps only to say good-night in her marvel of a voice—a +marvel because its mellow note held such love.</p> + +<p>This time when, after entering the house and mounting the stairs he +reached her door, he found it partly open.</p> + +<p>"Come in," he heard her say. "I went to sleep very early and awakened +half an hour ago. It is really morning."</p> + +<p>She was sitting up in a deep chair by the window.</p> + +<p>"Let me look at you," she said with a little laugh. "And then kiss me +and go to bed."</p> + +<p>But even the lovely, faint early light revealed something to her.</p> + +<p>"You walk like a young stag on the hillside," she said. "You don't want +to go to sleep at all. What is it?"</p> + +<p>He sat on a low ottoman near her and laughed a little also.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he answered, "but I'm wide awake."</p> + +<p>The English summer dawn is of a magical clear light and she could see +him well. She had a thrilled feeling that she had never quite known +before what a beautiful thing he was—how perfect and shining fair in +his boy manhood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, "you won't remember perhaps—it's a queer thing that +I should myself—but I have never really forgotten. There was a child I +played with in some garden when I was a little chap. She was a beautiful +little thing who seemed to belong to nobody—"</p> + +<p>"She belonged to a Mrs. Gareth-Lawless," Helen interpolated.</p> + +<p>"Then you do remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. You asked me to go to the Gardens with you to see her. And +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless came in by chance and spoke to me."</p> + +<p>"And then we had suddenly to go back to Scotland. I remember you wakened +me quite early in the morning—I thought it was the middle of the +night." He began to speak rather slowly as if he were thinking it over. +"You didn't know that, when you took me away, it was a tragedy. I had +promised to play with her again and I felt as if I had deserted her +hideously. It was not the kind of a thing a little chap usually +feels—it was something different—something more. And to-night it +actually all came back. I saw her again, mother."</p> + +<p>He was so absorbed that he did not take in her involuntary movement.</p> + +<p>"You saw her again! Where?"</p> + +<p>"The old Duchess of Darte was giving a small dance for her. Hallowe took +me—"</p> + +<p>"Does the Duchess know Mrs. Gareth-Lawless?" Helen had a sense of +breathlessness.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand the situation. It seems the little thing +insists on earning her own living and she is a sort of companion and +secretary to the Duchess. Mother, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> is just the same!"</p> + +<p>The last words were a sort of exclamation. As he uttered them, there +came back to her the day when—a little boy—he had seemed as though he +were speaking as a young man might have spoken. Now he was a young man, +speaking almost as if he were a little boy—involuntarily revealing his +exaltation.</p> + +<p>As she had felt half frightened years before, so she felt wholly +frightened now. He was not a little boy any longer. She could not sweep +him away in her arms to save him from danger. Also she knew more of the +easy, fashionably accepted views of the morals of pretty Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless, still lightly known with some cynicism as "Feather." She +knew what Donal did not. His relationship to the Head of the House of +Coombe made it unlikely that gossip should choose him as the exact young +man to whom could be related stories of his distinguished relative, Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless and her girl. But through the years Helen Muir had +unavoidably heard things she thought particularly hideous. And here the +child was again "just the same."</p> + +<p>"She has only grown up." His laugh was like a lightly indrawn breath. +"Her cheek is just as much like a rose petal. And that wonderful little +look! And her eyelashes. Just the same! Do girls usually grow up like +that? It was the look most. It's a sort of asking and giving—both at +once."</p> + +<p>There it was! And she had nothing to say. She could only sit and look at +him—at his beautiful youth all alight with the sudden flame of that +which can set a young world on fire and sweep on its way either carrying +devastation or clearing a path to Paradise.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> +<p>His own natural light unconsciousness was amazing. He only knew that he +was in delightful high spirits. The dancing, the music, the early +morning were, he thought, accountable for it.</p> + +<p>She bent forward to kiss his cheek and she patted his hand.</p> + +<p>"My dear! My dear!" she said. "How you have enjoyed your evening!"</p> + +<p>"There never was anything more perfect," with the light laugh again. +"Everything was delightful—the rooms, the music, the girls in their +pretty frocks like a lot of flowers tossed about. She danced like a bit +of thistledown. I didn't know a girl could be so light. The back of her +slim little neck looks as fine and white and soft as a baby's. I am so +glad you were awake. Are you sure you don't want to go to sleep again?" +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. Look at the sun beginning to touch the tips of the +little white clouds with rose. That stir among the leaves of the plane +trees is the first delicious breath of the morning. Go on and tell me +all about the party."</p> + +<p>"It's a perfect time to talk," he laughed.</p> + +<p>And there he sat and made gay pictures for her of what he had seen and +done. He thought he was giving her mere detail of the old Duchess' +dance. He did not know that when he spoke of new tangos, of flowers, of +music and young nymphs like tossed blossoms, he never allowed her for a +moment to lose sight of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless' girl. She was the light +floating over his vision of the happy youth of the assembly—she was the +centre—the beginning and the ending of it all.</p> +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>If some uncomplex minded and even moderately articulate man or woman, +living in some small, ordinary respectable London house and going about +his or her work in the customary way, had been prompted by chance upon +June 29th, 1914, to begin to keep on that date a day-by-day diary of his +or her ordinary life, the effects of huge historic events, as revealed +by the every-day incidents to be noted in the streets, to be heard in +his neighbours' houses as well as among his fellow workers, to be read +in the penny or half-penny newspapers, would have resulted—if the +record had been kept faithfully and without any self-conscious sense of +audience—between 1914 and 1918 in the gradual compiling of a human +document of immense historical value. Compared with it, the diaries of +Defoe and Pepys would pale and be flavourless. But it must have been +begun in June, 1914, and have been written with the casualness of that +commonplace realism which is the most convincing realism of all. It is +true that the expression of the uncomplex mind is infrequently +articulate, but the record which would bring home the clearest truth +would be the one unpremeditatedly depicting the effect produced upon the +wholly unprepared and undramatic personality by the monstrous drama, as +the Second Deluge rose for its apparent overwhelming, carrying upon its +flood old civilisations broken from anchor and half submerged as they +tossed on the rising and raging wav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>es. Such a priceless treasure as this +might have been the quite unliterary and unromantic diary of any—say, +Mr. James Simpson of any house number in any respectable side street in +Regents Park, or St. Johns Wood or Hampstead. One can easily imagine +him, sitting in his small, comfortable parlour and bending over his +blotting-pad in unilluminated cheerful absorption after his day's work. +It can also without any special intellectual effort be imagined that the +record might have begun with some such seemingly unprophetic entry as +follows:—</p> + +<p>"June 29th, 1914. I made up my mind when I was at the office to-day that +I would begin to keep a diary. I have thought several times that I +would, and Harriet thinks it would be a good thing because we should +have it to refer to when there was any little dispute about dates and +things that have happened. To-night seemed a good time because there is +something to begin the first entry with. Harriet and I spent part of the +evening in reading the newspaper accounts of the assassination of the +Austrian Archduke and his wife. There seems to be a good deal of +excitement about it because he was the next heir to the Austrian throne. +The assassination occurred in Bosnia at a place called Sarajevo. +Crawshaw, whose desk is next to mine in the office, believes it will +make a nice mess for the Bosnians and Servians because they have been +rather troublesome about wanting to be united into one country instead +of two, and called Greater Serbia. That seems a silly sort of reason for +throwing bombs and killing people. But foreigners have a way of thinking +bombs settle everything. Harriet brought out her old school geography +and we looked up Sarajevo on the map of Austria-Hungary. It was hard to +find because the print was small and it was spel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>t Saraievo—without any +j in it. It was just on the line between Bosnia and Servia and the +geography said it was the chief city in Bosnia. Harriet said it was a +queer thing how these places on maps never seemed like real places when +you looked them up and just read their names and yet probably the people +in them were as real to themselves as we were, and there were streets in +them as real as Lupton Street where we were sitting, finding them on the +map on the sitting-room table. I said that bombs were pretty real things +and the sound of this one when it exploded seemed to have reached a long +way to judge from the newspapers and the talk in London. Harriet said my +putting it like that gave her a queer feeling—almost as if she had +heard it and it had made her jump. Somehow it seemed something like it +to me. At any rate we sat still a minute or two, thinking it over. Then +Harriet got up and went into the kitchen and made some nice toasted +cheese for our supper before we went to bed."</p> + +<p>Men of the James Simpson type were among the many who daily passed +Coombe House on their way to and from their office work. Some of them no +doubt caught sight of Lord Coombe himself as he walked or drove through +the entrance gates. Their knowledge of him was founded upon rumoured +stories, repeated rather privately among themselves. He was a great +swell and there weren't many shady things he hadn't done and didn't know +the ins and outs of, but his remoteness from their own lives rendered +these accepted legends scarcely prejudicial. The perfection of his +clothes, and his unusual preservation of physical condition and good +looks, also his habit of the so-called "week-end" continental journeys, +were the points chiefly recalled by the incidental mention of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> his name.</p> + +<p>If James Simpson, on his way home to Lupton Street with his friend +Crawshaw, chanced to see his lordship's car standing before his door a +few days after the bomb throwing in Sarajevo, he might incidentally have +referred to him somewhat in this wise:—</p> + +<p>"As we passed by Coombe House the Marquis of Coombe came out and got +into his car. There were smart leather valises and travelling things in +it and a rug or so, as if he was going on some journey. He is a fine +looking man for one that's lived the life he has and reached his age. I +don't see how he's done it, myself. When I said to Crawshaw that it +looked as if he was going away for the week end, Crawshaw said that +perhaps he was taking Saturday to Monday off to run over to talk to the +Kaiser and old Franz Josef about the Sarajevo business, and he might +telephone to the Czar about it because he's intimate with them all, and +the whole lot seem to be getting mixed up in the thing and writing +letters and sending secret telegrams. It seems to be turning out, as +Crawshaw said it would, into a nice mess for Servia. Austria is making +it out that the assassination really was committed to stir up trouble, +and says it wasn't done just by a crazy anarchist, but by a secret +society working for its own ends. Crawshaw came in to supper and we +talked it all over. Harriet gave us cold beef and pickled onions and +beer, and we looked at the maps in the old geography again. We got quite +interested in finding places. Bosnia and Servia (it's often spelled +Serbia) are close up against Austria-Hungary, and Germany and Russia are +close against the other side. They can get into each other's countries +without much travelling. I heard to-day that Russia will hav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>e to help +Servia if she has a row with Austria. Crawshaw says that will give +Germany the chance she's been waiting for and that she will try to get +through Belgium to England. He says she hates England. Harriet began to +look pale as she studied the map and saw how little Belgium was and that +the Channel was so narrow. She said she felt as if England had been +silly to let herself get so slack and she almost wished she hadn't +looked at the geography. She said she couldn't help thinking how awful +it would be to see the German army marching up Regent Street and camping +in Hyde Park, and who in goodness' name knew what they might do to +people if they hated England so? She actually looked as if she would +have cried if Crawshaw and I hadn't chaffed her and made her laugh by +telling her we would join the army; and Crawshaw began to shoulder arms +with the poker and I got my new umbrella."</p> + +<p>In this domesticated and almost comfortable fashion did the greatest +tragedy the human race has known since the beginning of the world +gradually prepare its first scenes and reveal glimpses of itself, as the +curtain of Time was, during that June, slowly raised by the hand of +Fate.</p> + +<p>This is not what is known as a "war story." It is not even a story of +the War, but a relation of incidents occurring amidst and resulting from +the strenuousness of a period to which "the War" was a background so +colossal that it dwarfed all events, except in the minds of those for +whom such events personally shook and darkened or brightened the world. +Nothing can dwarf personal anguish at its moment of highest power; to +the last agony and despairing terror of the heart-wrung the catacl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>ysm of +earthquake, tornado, shipwreck is but the awesome back drop of the +scene.</p> + +<p>Also—incidentally—the story is one of the transitions in, and +convulsive changes of, points of view produced by the convulsion itself +which flung into new perspective the whole surface of the earth and the +races existing upon it.</p> + +<p>The Head of the House of Coombe had, as he said, been born at once too +early and too late to admit of any fixed establishment of tastes and +ideals. His existence had been passed in the transition from one era to +another—the Early Victorian, under whose disappearing influences he had +spent his youth; the Late Victorian and Edwardian, in whose more rapidly +changing atmosphere he had ripened to maturity. He had, during this +transition, seen from afar the slow rising of the tidal wave of the +Second Deluge; and in the summer days of 1914 he heard the first low +roaring of its torrential swell, and visualised all that the +overwhelming power of its bursting flood might sweep before it and bury +forever beneath its weight.</p> + +<p>He made seemingly casual crossings of the Channel and journeys which +were made up of the surmounting of obstacles, and when he returned, +brought with him a knowledge of things which it would have been unwise +to reveal carelessly to the general public. The mind of the general +public had its parallel, at the moment, in the temperature of a patient +in the early stages of, as yet, undiagnosed <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: The original text read "tyhoid"">typhoid</ins> or any other fever. Restless excitement and spasmodic heats +and discomforts prompted and ruled it. Its tendency was to nervous +discontent and suspicious fearfulness of approaching, vaguely +formulated, evils. These risings of temper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>ature were to be seen in the +very streets and shops. People were talking—talking—talking. Ordinary +people, common people, all kinds of classes. The majority of them did +not know what they were talking about; most of them talked either +uneducated, frightened or blustering nonsense, but everybody talked more +or less. Enormous numbers of newspapers were bought and flourished +about, or pored over anxiously. Numbers of young Germans were silently +disappearing from their places in shops, factories and warehouses. That +was how Germany showed her readiness for any military happening. Her +army was already trained and could be called from any country and walk +in life. A mysterious unheard command called it and it was obliged to +obey. The entire male population of England had not been trained from +birth to regard itself as an immense military machine, ready at any +moment for action. The James Simpson type of Englishman indulged in much +discussion of the pros and cons of enforced military training of youth. +Germany's well known contempt of the size and power of the British Army +took on an aspect which filled the James Simpsons with rage. They had +not previously thought of themselves as martial, because middle-class +England was satisfied with her belief in her strength and entire safety. +Of course she was safe. She always had been. Britannia Rules the Waves +and the James Simpsons were sure that incidentally she ruled everything +else. But as there stole up behind the mature Simpsons the haunting +realization that, if England was "drawn in" to a war, it would be the +young Simpsons who must gird their loins and go forth to meet Goliath in +his armour, with only the sling and stone of untrained youth and valour +as their weapon, there were many who began to feel that even +inconvenient drilling and discipline might have been good th<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>ings.</p> + +<p>"There is something quite thrilling in going about now," said Feather to +Coombe, after coming in from a shopping round, made in her new electric +brougham. "One doesn't know what it is, but it's in the air. You see it +in people's faces. Actually shop girls give one the impression of just +having stopped whispering together when you go into a place and ask for +something. A girl who was trying on some gloves for me—she was a thin +girl with prominent watery eyes—had such a frightened look, that I said +to her, just to see what she would say—'I wonder what would happen to +the shops if England got into war?' She turned quite white and answered, +'Oh, Madam, I can't bear to think of it. My favourite brother's a +soldier. He's such a nice big fellow and we're so fond of him. And he's +always talking about it. He says Germany's not going to let England keep +out. We're so frightened—mother and me.' She almost dropped a big tear +on my glove. It <i>would</i> be quite exciting if England did go in."</p> + +<p>"It would," Coombe answered.</p> + +<p>"London would be crowded with officers. All sorts of things would have +to be given for them—balls and things."</p> + +<p>"Cannon balls among other things," said Coombe.</p> + +<p>"But we should have nothing to do with the cannon balls, thank +goodness," exhilaration sweeping her past unpleasant aspects. "One would +be sorry for the Tommies, of course, if the worst came to the worst. But +I must say army and navy men are more interesting than most civilians. +It's the constant change in their lives, and their having to meet so +many kinds of people."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +<p>"In actual war, men who are not merely 'Tommies' actually take part," +Coombe suggested. "I was looking at a ball-room full of them the night +after the news came from Sarajevo. Fine, well-set-up youngsters dancing +with pretty girls. I could not help asking myself what would have +happened to them before the German army crossed the Channel—if they +were not able to prevent the crossing. And what would happen to the +girls after its crossing, when it poured over London and the rest of +England in the unbridled rage of drunken victory."</p> + +<p>He so spoke because beneath his outward coldness he himself felt a +secret rage against this lightness which, as he saw things, had its +parallel in another order of trivial unawareness in more important +places and larger brains. Feather started and drew somewhat nearer to +him.</p> + +<p>"How hideous! What do you mean! Where was the party?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It was a small dance given by the Duchess, very kindly, for Robin," he +answered.</p> + +<p>"For Robin!" with open eyes whose incredulity held irritation. "The old +Duchess giving parties to her 'useful companion' girl! What nonsense! +Who was there?" sharply.</p> + +<p>"The young fellows who would be first called on if there was war. And +the girls who are their relatives. Halwyn was there—and young Dormer +and Layton—they are all in the army. The cannon balls would be for them +as well as for the Tommies of their regiments. They are spirited lads +who wouldn't slink behind. They'd face things."</p> + +<p>Feather had already forgotten her moment's shock in another thought.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<p>"And they were invited to meet Robin! Did they dance with her? Did she +dance much? Or did she sit and stare and say nothing? What did she +wear?"</p> + +<p>"She looked like a very young white rose. She danced continually. There +was always a little mob about her when the music stopped. I do not think +she sat at all, and it was the young men who stared. The only dance she +missed—Kathryn told her grandmother—was the one she sat out in the +conservatory with Donal Muir."</p> + +<p>At this Feather's high, thin little laugh broke forth.</p> + +<p>"He turned up there? Donal Muir!" She struck her hands lightly together. +"It's too good to be true!"</p> + +<p>"Why is it too good to be true?" he inquired without enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you see? After all his mother's airs and graces and running +away with him when they were a pair of babies—as if Robin had the +plague. I was the plague—and so were you. And here the old Duchess +throws them headlong at each other—in all their full bloom—into each +other's arms. I did not do it. You didn't. It was the stuffiest old +female grandee in London, who wouldn't let <i>me</i> sweep her front +door-steps for her—because I'm an impropriety."</p> + +<p>She asked a dozen questions, was quite humorous over the picture she +drew of Mrs. Muir's consternation at the peril her one ewe lamb had been +led into by her highly revered friend.</p> + +<p>"A frightfully good-looking, spoiled boy like that always plunges +headlong into any adventure that attracts him. Women have always made +love to him and Robin will make great eyes, and blush and look at him +from under her lashes as if she were going to cry with joy—like Alice +in the Ben Bolt song. She'll 'weep with delight when he gives her a +smile and tremble with fear at his frow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>n.' His mother can't stop it, +however furious she may be. Nothing can stop that sort of thing when it +once begins."</p> + +<p>"If England declares war Donal Muir will have more serious things to do +than pursue adventures," was Coombe's comment. He looked serious himself +as he said the words, because they brought before him the bodily +strength and beauty of the lad. He seemed suddenly to see him again as +he had looked when he was dancing. And almost at the same moment he saw +other scenes than ball-rooms and heard sounds other than those drawn +forth by musicians screened with palms. He liked the boy. He was not his +son, but he liked him. If he had been his son, he thought—! He had been +through the monster munition works at Essen several times and he had +heard technical talks of inventions, the sole reason for whose presence +in the world was that they had the power to blow human beings into +unrecognisable, ensanguined shreds and to tear off limbs and catapult +them into the air. He had heard these powers talked of with a sense of +natural pride in achievement, in fact with honest and cheerful self +gratulation.</p> + +<p>He had known Count Zeppelin well and heard his interesting explanation +of what would happen to a thickly populated city on to which bombs were +dropped.</p> + +<p>But Feather's view was lighter and included only such things as she +found entertaining.</p> + +<p>"If there's a war the heirs of great families won't be snatched at +first," she quite rattled on. "There'll be a sort of economising in that +sort of thing. Besides he's very young and he isn't in the Army. He'd +have to go through some sort of training. Oh, he'll have time! And +there'll be so much emotion and excitement and talk about parting +forever and 'This may be the last time we ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> meet' sort of thing that +every boy will have adventure—and not only boys. When I warned Robin, +the night before she went away, I did not count on war or I could have +said more—"</p> + +<p>"What did you warn her of?"</p> + +<p>"Of making mistakes about the men who would make love to her. I warned +her against imagining she was as safe as she would be if she were a +daughter of the house she lived in. I knew what I was talking about."</p> + +<p>"Did she?" was Coombe's concise question.</p> + +<p>"Of course she did—though of course she pretended not to. Girls always +pretend. But I did my duty as a parent. And I told her that if she got +herself into any mess she mustn't come to me."</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe regarded her in silence for a moment or so. It was one of +the looks which always made her furious in her small way.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," he said and turned his back and walked out of the room. +Almost immediately after he had descended the stairs she heard the front +door close after him.</p> + +<p>It was the kind of thing which made her feel her utter helplessness +against him and which enraged all the little cat in her being. She +actually ground her small teeth.</p> + +<p>"I was quite right," she said. "It's her affair to take care of herself. +Would he want her to come to <i>him</i> in any silly fix? I should like to +see her try it."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>Robin sat at the desk in her private room and looked at a key she held +in her hand. She had just come upon it among some papers. She had put it +into a narrow lacquered box when she arranged her belongings, after she +left the house in which her mother continued to live. It was the key +which gave entrance to the Gardens. Each householder possessed one. She +alone knew why she rather timidly asked her mother's permission to keep +this one.</p> + +<p>"One of the first things I seem to remember is watching the gardeners +planting flowers," Robin had said. "They had rows of tiny pots with +geraniums and lobelia in them. I have been happy there. I should like to +be able to go in sometimes and sit under the trees. If you do not +mind—"</p> + +<p>Feather did not mind. She herself was not in the least likely to be +seized with a desire to sit under trees in an atmosphere heavy with +nursemaids and children.</p> + +<p>So Robin had been allowed to keep the key and until to-day she had not +opened the lacquer box. Was it quite by accident that she had found it? +She was not quite sure it was and she was asking herself questions, as +she sat looking at it as it lay in her palm.</p> + +<p>The face of the whole world had changed since the night when she had sat +among banked flowers and palms and ferns, and heard the splashing of the +fountain and the sound of the music and dancing, and Donal Muir's voice, +all at the same time. That which had happened had made everybody and +everything different; and, because she lived <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>in this particular house +and saw much of special people, she realised that the growing shudder in +the life about her was only the first convulsive tremor of an +earthquake. The Duchess began to have much more for her to do. She +called on her to read special articles in the papers, and to make notes +and find references. Many visitors came to the house to discuss, to +plan, to prepare for work. A number of good-looking, dancing boys had +begun to come in and out in uniform, and with eager faces and a +businesslike military air which oddly transformed them. The recalcitrant +George was more transformed than any of the rest. His eyes looked almost +fierce in their anxious intensity, his voice had taken on a somewhat +hard defiant ring. It could not be possible that he had ever done that +silly thing by the fountain and that she had splashed him from head to +foot. It was plain that there were young soldiers who were straining at +leashes, who were restless at being held back by the bindings of red +tape, and who every hour were hearing things—true or untrue—which +filled them with blind fury. As days passed Robin heard some of these +things—stories from Belgium—which caused her to stare straight before +her, blanched with horror. It was not only the slaughter and +helplessness which pictured itself before her—it was stories half +hinted at about girls like herself—girls who were trapped and +overpowered—carried into lonely or dark places where no one could hear +them. Sometimes George and the Duchess forgot her because she was so +quiet—people often forgot everything but their excitement and +wrath—and every one who came in to talk, because the house had become a +centre of activities, was full of new panics or defiances or rumours of +happenings or possibiliti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>es.</p> + +<p>The maelstrom had caught Robin herself in its whirling. She realised +that she had changed with the rest. She was no longer only a girl who +was looked at as she passed along the street and who was beginning to be +happy because she could earn her living. What was every girl in these +days? How did any girl know what lay before her and those who protected +the land she lived in? What could a girl do but try in some way to +help—in any way to help the fight and the fighters. She used to lie +awake and think of the Duchess' plans and concentrate her thought on the +mastering of details. There was no hour too early or too late to find +her ready to spring to attention. The Duchess had set her preparations +for future possibilities in train before other women had quite begun to +believe in their existence. Lady Lothwell had at first laughed quite +gaily at certain long lists she found her mother occupied with—though +this, it is true, was in early days.</p> + +<p>But Robin, even while whirled by the maelstrom, could not cease thinking +certain vague remote thoughts. The splashing of fountains among flowers, +and the sound of music and dancing were far away—but there was an echo +to which she listened unconsciously as Donal Muir did. Something she +gave no name to. But as the, as yet unheard, guns sent forth vibrations +which reached far, there rose before her pictures of columns of marching +men—hundreds, thousands, young, erect, steady and with clear +eyes—marching on and on—to what—to what? Would <i>every</i> man go? Would +there not be some who, for reasons, might not be obliged—or able—or +ready—until perhaps the, as yet hoped for, sudden end of the awful +thing had come? Surely there would be many who wou<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>ld be too young—or +whose youth could not be spared because it stood for some power the +nation needed in its future.</p> + +<p>She had taken out and opened the lacquered box while thinking these +things. She was thinking them as she looked at the key in her hand.</p> + +<p>"It is not quiet anywhere now," she said to herself. "But there will be +some corner under a tree in the Gardens where it will <i>seem</i> quiet if +one sits quite still there. I will go and try."</p> + +<p>There were very few nursemaids with their charges in the place when she +reached it about an hour later.</p> + +<p>The military element filling the streets engendered a spirit of caution +with regard to nursemaids in the minds of their employers. Even those +who were not young and good-looking were somewhat shepherded. The two or +three quite elderly ones in the Gardens cast serious glances at the girl +who walked past them to a curve in the path where large lilac bushes and +rhododendrons made a sort of nook for a seat under a tree.</p> + +<p>They could not see her when she sat down and laid her book beside her on +the bench. She did not even open it, but sat and looked at the greenery +of the shrubs before her. She was very still, and she looked as if she +saw more than mere leaves and branches.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes she got up slowly and went to a tall bush of lilac. +She plucked several leaves and carried them back to her bench, somewhat +as if she were a girl moving in a dream. Then, with a tiny shadow of a +smile, she took a long pin from under the lapel of her coat and, leaning +forward, began to prick out a pattern on the leaf she had laid on the +wooden seat. She was in the midst of doing it—had indeed decorated t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>wo +or three—when she found herself turning her head to listen to +something. It was a quick, buoyant marching step—not a nursemaid's, not +a gardener's, and it was coming towards her corner as if with +intention—and she suddenly knew that she was listening as if the +intention concerned herself. This was only because there are +psychological moments, moods, conditions at once physical and mental +when every incident in life assumes the significance of +intention—because unconsciously or consciously one is <i>waiting</i>.</p> + +<p>Here was a crisp tread somehow conveying a suggestion of familiar happy +eagerness. The tall young soldier who appeared from behind the clump of +shrubs and stood before her with a laughing salute had evidently come +hurriedly. And the hurry and laughter extraordinarily brought back the +Donal who had sprung upon her years ago from dramatic ambush. It was +Donal Muir who had come.</p> + +<p>"I saw you from a friend's house across the street," he said. "I +followed you."</p> + +<p>He made no apology and it did not even cross her mind that apology was +conventionally necessary. He sat down beside her and his effect—though +it did not express itself physically—was that of one who was breathing +quickly. The clear blueness of his gaze seemed to enfold and cover her. +The wonderfulness of him was the surrounding atmosphere she had felt as +a little child.</p> + +<p>"The whole world is rocking to and fro," he said. "It has gone mad. We +are all mad. There is no time to wait for anything."</p> + +<p>"I know! I know!" she whispered, because her pretty breast was rising +and falling, and she had scarcely breath lef<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>t to speak with.</p> + +<p>Even as he looked down at her, and she up at him, the colour and +laughter died out of him. Some suddenly returning memory brought a black +cloud into his eyes and made him pale. He caught hold of both her hands +and pressed them quite hard against his bowed face. He did not kiss them +but held them against his cheek.</p> + +<p>"It is terrible," he said.</p> + +<p>Without being told she knew what he meant.</p> + +<p>"You have been hearing new horrible things?" she said. What she guessed +was that they were the kind of things she had shuddered at, feeling her +blood at once hot and cold. He lifted his face but did not release her +hands.</p> + +<p>"At my friend's house. A man had just come over from Holland," he shook +himself as if to dismiss a nightmare. "I did not come here to say such +things. The enormous luck of catching sight of you, by mere chance, +through the window electrified me. I—I came because I was catapulted +here." He tried to smile and managed it pretty well. "How could I stay +when—there you were! Going into the same garden!" He looked round him +at the greenness with memory awakening. "It's the same garden. The +shrubs have grown much bigger and they have planted some new ones—but +it is the same garden." His look came back to her. "You are the same +Robin," he said softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, as she had always answered "yes" to him.</p> + +<p>"You are the same little child," he added and he lifted her hands again, +but this time he kissed them as gently as he had spoken. "God! I'm +glad!" And that was said softly, too. He was not a man of thirty or +forty—he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>was a boy of twenty and his whole being was vibrating with the +earthquake of the world.</p> + +<p>That he vaguely recognised this last truth revealed itself in his next +words.</p> + +<p>"It would have taken me six months to say this much to you—to get this +far—before this thing began," he said. "I daren't have run after you in +the street. I should have had to wait about and make calls and ask for +invitations to places where I might see you. And when we met we should +have been polite and have talked all round what we wanted to say. It +would have been cheek to tell you—the second time we met—that your +eyes looked at me just as they did when you were a little child. I +should have had to be decently careful because you might have felt shy. +You don't feel shy now, do you? No, you don't," in caressing conviction +and appeal.</p> + +<p>"No—no." There was the note of a little mating bird in the repeated +word.</p> + +<p>This time he spread one of her hands palm upward on his own larger one. +He looked down at it tenderly and stroked it as he talked.</p> + +<p>"It is because there is no time. Things pour in upon us. We don't know +what is before us. We can only be sure of one thing—that it may be +death or wounds. I don't know when they'll think me ready to be sent +out—or when they'll be ready to send me and other fellows like me. But +I shall be sent. I am sitting in a garden here with you. I'm a young +chap and big and strong and I love life. It is my duty as a man to go +and kill other young chaps who love it as much as I do. And they must do +their best to kill me, 'Gott strafe England,' they're saying in +Germany—I understand it. Ma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>ny a time it's in me to say, 'Gott strafe +Germany.'"</p> + +<p>He drew in his breath sharply, as if to pull himself together, and was +still a moment. The next he turned upon her his wonderful boy's smile. +Suddenly there was trusting appeal in it.</p> + +<p>"You don't mind my holding your hand and talking like this, do you? Your +eyes are as soft as—I've seen fawns cropping among the primroses with +eyes that looked like them. But yours <i>understand</i>. You don't mind my +doing this?" he kissed her palm. "Because there is no time."</p> + +<p>Her free hand caught at his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "You're going—you're <i>going</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "And you wouldn't hold me back."</p> + +<p>"No! No! No! No!" she cried four times, "Belgium! Belgium! Oh! Belgium!" +And she hid her eyes on his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"That's it—Belgium! There has been war before, but this promises from +the outset to be something else. And they're coming on in their +millions. We have no millions—we have not even guns and uniforms +enough, but we've got to stop them, if we do it with our bare hands and +with walls of our dead bodies. That was how Belgium held them back. Can +England wait?"</p> + +<p>"You can't wait!" cried Robin. "No man can wait."</p> + +<p>How he glowed as he looked at her!</p> + +<p>"There. That shows how you understand. See! That's what draws me. That's +why, when I saw you through the window, I had to follow you. It wasn't +only your lovely eyes and your curtains of eyelashes and because you +are a sort of rose. It is you—you! Whatsoever you s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>aid, I should know +the meaning of, and what I say you will always understand. It's as if we +answered each other. That's why I never forgot you. It's why I waked up +so when I saw you at the Duchess'." He tried to laugh, but did not quite +succeed. "Do you know I have never had a moment's real rest since that +night—because I haven't seen you."</p> + +<p>"I—" faltered Robin, "have wondered and wondered—where you were."</p> + +<p>All the forces of nature drew him a little nearer to her—though the +gardener who clumped past them dully at the moment only saw a +particularly good-looking young soldier, apparently engaged in agreeable +conversation with a pretty girl who was not a nursemaid.</p> + +<p>"Did you come here because of that?" he asked with frank anxiety. "Do +you come here often and was it just chance? Or did you come because you +were wondering?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't exactly know—at first. But I know now. I have not been here +since I went to live in Eaton Square," she gave back to him. Oh! how +good and beautiful his asking eyes were! It was as he drew even a little +nearer that he saw for the first time the pricked lilac leaves lying on +the bench beside her.</p> + +<p>"Did you do those?" he said suddenly quite low. "Did you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," as low and quite sweetly unashamed. "You taught me—when we +played together."</p> + +<p>The quick emotion in his flushing face could scarcely be described.</p> + +<p>"How lovely—how <i>lovely</i> you are!" he exclaimed, almost under his +breath. "I—I don't know how to say what I feel—about your +remembering. You little—little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> thing!" This last because he somehow +strangely saw her five years old again.</p> + +<p>It was a boy's unspoiled, first love making—the charming outburst of +young passion untrained by familiar use to phrases. It was like the +rising of a Spring freshet and had the same irresistible power.</p> + +<p>"May I have them? Will you give them to me with your own little hand?"</p> + +<p>The happy glow of her smiling, as she picked them up and laid them, one +by one, on his open extended palm, was as the glow of the smiling of +young Eve. The dimples playing round her mouth and the quiver of her +lashes, as she lifted them to laugh into his eyes, were an actual peril.</p> + +<p>"Must I give you the pin too?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes—everything," he answered in a sort of helpless joy. "I would carry +the wooden bench away with me if I could. But they would stop me at the +gate." They were obliged to treat something a little lightly because +everything seemed tensely tremulous.</p> + +<p>"Here is the pin," she said, taking it from under the lapel of her coat. +"It is quite a long one." She looked at it a moment and then ended in a +whisper. "I must have known why I was coming here—because, you see, I +brought the pin." And her eyelashes lifted themselves and made their +circling shadows again.</p> + +<p>"Then I must have the pin. And it will be a talisman. I shall have a +little flat case made for the leaves and the sacred pin shall hold it +together. When I go into battle it will keep me safe. Bullets and +bayonets will glance aside." He said it, as he laid the treasure away in +his purse, and he did not see her face as he spoke of bullets and +bayonets.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<p>"I am a Highlander," he said next and for the moment he looked as if he +saw things far away. "In the Highlands we believe more than most people +do. Perhaps that's why I feel as if we two are not quite like other +people,—as if we had been something—I don't know what—to each other +from the beginning of time—since the 'morning stars first sang +together.' I don't know exactly what that means, or how stars sing—but +I like the sound of it. It seems to mean something I mean though I don't +know how to say it." He was not in the least portentous or solemn, but +he was the most strongly feeling and <i>real</i> creature she had ever heard +speaking to her and he swept her along with him, as if he had indeed +been the Spring freshet and she a leaf. "I believe," here he began to +speak slowly as if he were thinking it out, "that there was +something—that meant something—in the way we two were happy together +and could not bear to be parted—years ago when we were nothing but +children. Do you know that, little chap as I was, I never stopped +thinking of you day and night when we were not playing together. I +<i>couldn't</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Neither could I stop thinking," said Robin. "I had dreams about seeing +your eyes looking at me. They were blue like clear water in summer. They +were always laughing. I always <i>wanted</i> them to look at me! They—they +are the same eyes now," in a little rush of words.</p> + +<p>Their blueness was on hers—in the very deeps of their uplifted +liquidity.</p> + +<p>"God! I'm <i>glad</i>!" his voice was on a hushed note.</p> + +<p>There has never been a limner through all the ages who has pictured—at +such a moment—two pairs of eyes reaching, melting into, lost in each +other in their human search for the longing soul drawing together human +things. Hand a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>nd brush and colour cannot touch That which Is and Must +Be—in its yearning search for the spirit which is its life on earth. +Yet a boy and girl were yearning towards it as they sat in mere mortal +form on a bench in a London square. And neither of them knew more than +that they wondered at and adored the beauty in each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know what a little chap I was," he said next. "I'd had a +splendid life for a youngster and I was big for my age and ramping with +health and strength and happiness. You seemed almost a baby to me, +but—it was the way you looked at me, I think—I wanted to talk to you, +and please you and make you laugh. You had a red little mouth with deep +dimples that came and went near the corners. I liked to see them +twinkle."</p> + +<p>"You told me," she laughed, remembering. "You put the point of your +finger in them. But you didn't hurt me," in quick lovely reassuring. +"You were not a rough little boy."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have hurt you for worlds. I didn't even know I was cheeky. +The dimples were so deep that it seemed quite natural to poke at +them—like a sort of game."</p> + +<p>"We laughed and laughed. It <i>was</i> a sort of game. I sat quite still and +let you make little darts at them," Robin assisted him. "We laughed like +small crazy things. We almost had child hysterics."</p> + +<p>The dimples showed themselves now and he held himself in leash.</p> + +<p>"You did everything I wanted you to do," he said, "and I suppose that +made me feel bigger and bigger."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> thought you were big. And I had never seen anything so wonderful +before. You knew everything in the world and I knew <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>nothing. Don't you +remember," with hesitation—as if she were almost reluctant to recall +the memory of a shadow into the brightness of the moment—"I told you +that I had nothing—and nobody?"</p> + +<p>All rushed back to him in a warm flow.</p> + +<p>"That was it," he said. "When you said that I felt as if some one had +insulted and wronged something of my own. I remember I felt hot and +furious. I wanted to give you things and fight for you. I—caught you in +my arms and squeezed you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Robin answered.</p> + +<p>"It was because of—that time when the morning stars first sang +together," he answered smiling, but still as <i>real</i> as before. "It +wasn't a stranger child I wanted to take care of. It was some one I +had—belonged to—long—long and long. I'm a Highlander and I know it's +true. And there's another thing I know," with a sudden change almost to +boyish fierceness, "you are one of the things I'm going to face cannon +and bayonets for. If there were nothing else and no one else in England, +I should stand on the shore and fight until I dropped dead and the whole +Hun mass surged over me before they should reach you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," whispered Robin, "I know."</p> + +<p>They both realised that the time had come when they must part, and when +he lifted again the hand nearest to him, it was with the gesture of one +who had reached the moment of farewell.</p> + +<p>"It's our garden," he said. "It's the <i>same</i> garden. Just because there +is no time—may I see you here again? I can't go away without knowing +that."</p> + +<p>"I will come," she answered, "whenever the Duchess does not need me. +You see I belong to nobody but myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I belong to people," he said, "but I belong to myself too." He paused a +second or so and a strange half puzzled expression settled in his eyes. +"It's only fair that a man who's looking the end of things straight in +the face should have something for himself—to himself. If it's only a +heavenly hour now and then. Before things stop. There's such a lot of +life—and such a lot to live for—forever if one could. And a smash—or +a crash—or a thrust—and it's over! Sometimes I can hardly get hold of +it."</p> + +<p>He shook his head as he rose and stood upright, drawing his splendid +young body erect.</p> + +<p>"It's only fair," he said. "A chap's so strong and—and ready for +living. Everything's surging through one's mind and body. One can't go +out without having <i>something</i>—of one's own. You'll come, won't +you—just because there's no time? I—I want to keep looking into your +eyes."</p> + +<p>"I want you to look into them," said Robin. "I'll come."</p> + +<p>He stood still a moment looking at her just as she wanted him to look. +Then after a few more words he bent low and kissed her hands and then +stood straight again and saluted and went away.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>There was one facet of the great stone of War upon which many strange +things were written. They were not the things most discussed or +considered. They were results—not causes. But for the stress of mental, +spiritual and physical tempest-of-being the colossal background of storm +created, many of them might never have happened; but the consequences of +their occurrence were to touch close, search deep, and reach far into +the unknown picture of the World the great War might leave in fragments +which could only be readjusted by centuries of time.</p> + +<p>The interested habit of observation of, and reflection on, her kind +which knew no indifferences, in the mind of the Duchess of Darte, +awakened by stages to the existence of this facet and to the moment of +the writings thereupon.</p> + +<p>"It would seem almost as if Nature—Fate—had meant to give a new +impulse to the race—to rouse human creatures to new moods, to thrust +them into places where they see new things. Men and women are being +dragged out of their self-absorbed corners and stirred up and shaken. +Emotions are being roused in people who haven't known what a real +emotion was. Middle-aged husbands and wives who had sunk into +comfortable acceptance of each other and their boys and girls are being +dragged out of bed, as it were, and wakened up and made to stand on +their feet and face unbelievable possibilities. If you have boys old +enough to be soldiers and girls old enough to be victims—your life +makes <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>a sort of <i>volte face</i> and everyday, worldly comforts and +successes or little failures drop out of your line of sight, and change +their values. Mothers are beginning to clutch at their sons; and even +self-centred fathers and selfish pretty sisters look at their male +relatives with questioning, with a hint of respect or even awe in it. +Perhaps the women feel it more than the men. Good-looking, light-minded, +love-making George has assumed a new aspect to his mother and to +Kathryn. They're secretly yearning over him. He has assumed a new aspect +to me. I yearn over him myself. He has changed—he has suddenly grown +up. Boys are doing it on every hand."</p> + +<p>"The youngest youngster vibrates with the shock of cannon firing, even +though the sound may not be near enough to be heard," answered Coombe. +"We're all vibrating unconsciously. We are shuddering consciously at the +things we hear and are mad to put a stop to, before they go further."</p> + +<p>"Innocent little villages full of homes torn and trampled under foot and +burned!" the Duchess almost cried out. "And worse things than +that—worse things! And the whole monstrosity growing more huge and +throwing out new and more awful tentacles every day."</p> + +<p>"Every hour. No imagination has yet conceived what it may be."</p> + +<p>"That is why the poor human things are clutching at each other, and +finding values and attractions where they did not see them before. +Colonel Marion and his wife were here yesterday. He is a stout man over +fifty and has a red face and prominent eyes. His wife has been so +occupied with herself and her children that she had almost forgotten he +existed. She looked at and listened to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> him as if she were a bride."</p> + +<p>"I have seen changes of that sort myself," said Coombe. "He is more +alive himself. He has begun to be of importance. And men like him have +been killed already—though the young ones go first."</p> + +<p>"The young ones know that, and they clutch the most frantically. That is +what I am seeing in young eyes everywhere. Mere instinct makes it +so—mere uncontrollable instinct which takes the form of a sort of +desperateness at facing the thousand chances of death before they have +lived. They don't know it isn't actual fear of bullets and shrapnel. +Sometimes they're afraid it's fear and it makes them sick at themselves +and determined to grin and hide it. But it isn't fear—it's furious +Nature protesting."</p> + +<p>"There are hasty bridals and good-bye marriages being made in all +ranks," Coombe put in. "They are inevitable."</p> + +<p>"God help the young things—those of them who never meet again—and +perhaps, also, some of those who do. The nation ought to take care of +the children. If there is a nation left, God knows they will be needed," +the Duchess said. "One of my footmen who 'joined up' has revealed an +unsuspected passion for a housemaid he used to quarrel with, and who +seemed to detest him. I have three women in my household who have +soldier lovers in haste to marry them. I shall give them my blessing and +take care of the wives when they are left behind. One can be served by +old men and married women—and one can turn cottages into small +orphanages if the worst happens."</p> + +<p>There was a new vigour in her splendid old face and body.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +<p>"There is a reason now why I am the Dowager Duchess of Darte," she went +on, "and why I have money and houses and lands. There is a reason why I +have lived when it sometimes seemed as if my usefulness was over. There +are uses for my money—for my places—for myself. Lately I have found +myself saying, as Mordecai said to Esther, 'Who knowest whether thou art +not come to the kingdom for such a time as this.' A change is taking +place in me too. I can do more because there is so much more to do. I +can even use my hands better. Look at them."</p> + +<p>She held them out that he might see them—her beautiful old-ivory +fingers, so long stiffened by rheumatism. She slowly opened and shut +them.</p> + +<p>"I can move them more—I have been exercising them and having them +rubbed. I want to be able to knit and sew and wait on myself and perhaps +on other people. Because I have been a rich, luxurious old woman it has +not occurred to me that there were rheumatic old women who were forced +to do things because they were poor—the things I never tried to do. I +have begun to try."</p> + +<p>She let her hands fall on her lap and sat gazing up at him with a rather +strange expression.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what I have been doing?" she said. "I have been praying to +God—for a sort of miracle. In their terror people are beginning to ask +their Deity for things as they have never done it before. We are most of +us like children waking in horror of the black night and shrieking for +some one to come—some one—any one! Each creature cries out to his own +Deity—the God his own need has made. Most of us are doing it in +secret—half ashamed to let it be known. We are abject things. Mothers +and fathers are doing it—young lovers a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>nd husbands and wives."</p> + +<p>"What miracle are you asking for?"</p> + +<p>"For power to do things I have not done for years. I want to walk—to +stand—to work. If under the stress of necessity I begin to do all +three, my doctors will say that mental exaltation and will power have +caused the change. It may be true, but mental exaltation and will power +are things of the soul not of the body. Anguish is actually forcing me +into a sort of practical belief. I am trying to 'have faith even as a +grain of mustard seed' so that I may say unto my mountain, 'Remove hence +to yonder place and it shall be removed.'"</p> + +<p>"'The things which I do, ye shall do also and even greater things than +these shall ye do.'" Coombe repeated the words deliberately. "I heard an +earnest middle-aged dissenter preach a sermon on that text a few days +ago."</p> + +<p>"What?"—his old friend leaned forward. "Are <i>you</i> going to hear +sermons?"</p> + +<p>"I am one of the children, I suppose. Though I do not shriek aloud, +probably something shrieks within me. I was passing a small chapel and +heard a singular voice. I don't know exactly why I went into the place, +but when I sat down inside I felt the tension of the atmosphere at once. +Every one looked anxious or terrified. There were pale faces and stony +or wild eyes. It did not seem to be an ordinary service and voices kept +breaking out with spasmodic appeals, 'Almighty God, look down on us!' +'Oh, Christ, have mercy!' 'Oh, God, save us!' One woman in black was +rocking backwards and forwards and sobbing over and over again, 'Oh, +Jesus! Jesus! Oh, Lord Jesus!'"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> +<p>"Part of her body and soul was lying done to death in some field—or by +some roadside," said the Duchess. "She could not pray—she could only +cry out. I can hear her, 'Oh, Lord Jesus!'"</p> + +<p>Later came the morning when the changed George came to say good-bye. He +was wonderfully good-looking in his khaki and seemed taller and more +square of jaw. He made a few of the usual young jokes which were +intended to make things cheerful and to treat affectionate fears +lightly, but his good-natured blue eye held a certain deadly quiet in +its depths.</p> + +<p>His mother and Kathryn were with him, and it was while they were +absorbed in anxious talk with the Duchess that he walked over to where +Robin sat and stood before her.</p> + +<p>"Will you come into the library and let me say something to you? I don't +want to go away without saying it," he put it to her.</p> + +<p>The library was the adjoining room and Robin rose and went with him +without any comment or question. Already the time had come when +formalities had dropped away and people did not ask for trivial +explanations. The pace of events had become too rapid.</p> + +<p>"There are a lot of chances when a man goes out—that he won't come +back," he said, still standing after she had taken a place in the +window-seat he guided her to. "There are not as many as one's friends +can't help thinking—but there are enough to make him feel he'd like to +leave things straight when he goes. What I want you to let me say is, +that the minute I had made a fool of myself the night of the dance, I +knew what an ass I had been and I was ready to grovel."</p> + +<p>Robin's lifted face was quite gentle. Suddenly she was thinking +self-reproachingly, "Oh, poor boy—poor boy!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I flew into a temper and would not let you," she answered him. "It +<i>was</i> temper—but there were things you didn't know. It was not your +fault that you didn't." The square, good-natured face flushed with +relief, and George's voice became even slightly unsteady.</p> + +<p>"That's kind of you," he said, "it's <i>kind</i> and I'm jolly grateful. +Things mean a lot just now—with all one's people in such a state and +trying so pluckily to hide it. I just wanted to make sure that you knew +that <i>I</i> knew that the thing only happened because I was a silly idiot +and for no other reason. You will believe me, won't you, and won't +remember it if you ever remember me?"</p> + +<p>"I shall remember you—and it is as if—that had never happened at all."</p> + +<p>She put out, as she got up, such a kind hand that he grasped it almost +joyously.</p> + +<p>"You have made it awfully easy for me. Thank you, Miss Lawless." He +hesitated a second and then dropped his voice. "I wonder if I dare—I +wonder if it would be cheek—and impudence if I said something else?"</p> + +<p>"Scarcely anything seems cheek or impudence now," Robin answered with +simple sadness. "Nothing ordinary seems to matter because <i>everything</i> +is of so much importance."</p> + +<p>"I feel as if what I wanted to say was one of the things that <i>are</i> +important. I don't know what—older people—or safe ones—would think +about it, but—" He broke off and began again. "To <i>us</i> young ones who +are facing— It's the only big thing that's left us—in our bit of the +present. We can only be sure of to-day—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes—yes," Robin cried out low. "Only to-day—just to-day." She even +panted a little and George, looking into her eyes, knew that he might +say anything, because for a reason she was one of the girls who in this +hour could understand.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you don't know where our house is," he said quite quickly. "It +is one of those in the Square—facing the Gardens. I might have played +with you there when I was a little chap—but I don't think I did."</p> + +<p>"Nobody did but Donal," she said, quickly also. How did she know that he +was going to say something to her about Donal?</p> + +<p>"I gave him the key to the Gardens that day," he hurried on. "I was at +the window with him when he saw you. I understood in a minute when I saw +his face and he'd said half a dozen words to me. I gave him my key. He +has got it now." He actually snatched at both her hands and gripped +them. It was a <i>grip</i> and his eyes burned through a sort of sudden +moisture. "We can't stay here and talk. But I couldn't <i>not</i> say it! Oh, +I say, be <i>good</i> to him! You would, if he had only a day to live because +some damned German bullet had struck him. You're life—you're +youngness—you're <i>to-day</i>! Don't say 'No' to <i>anything</i> he asks of +you—for God's sake, don't."</p> + +<p>"I'd give him my heart in his two hands," gasped Robin. "I couldn't give +him my soul because it was always his."</p> + +<p>"God take care of the pair of you—and be good to the rest of us," +whispered George, wringing her hands hard and dropping them.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +<p>That was how he went away.</p> + +<p>A few weeks later he was lying, a mangled object, in a field in +Flanders. One of thousands—living, laughing, good as honest bread is +good; the possible passer-on of life and force and new thinking for new +generations—one of hundreds of thousands—one of millions before the +end came—nice, healthy, normal-minded George, son and heir of a house +of decent nobles.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>And still youth marched away, and England seemed to swarm with soldiers +and, at times, to hear and see nothing but marching music and marching +feet, though life went on in houses, shops, warehouses and offices, and +new and immense activities evolved as events demanded them. Many of the +new activities were preparations for the comfort and care of soldiers +who were going away, and for those who would come back and would need +more care than the others. Women were doing astonishing work and +revealing astonishing power and determination. The sexes mingled with a +businesslike informality unknown in times of peace. Lovely girls went in +and out of their homes, and from one quarter of London to another +without question. They walked with a brisk step and wore the steady +expression of creatures with work in view. Slim young war-widows were to +be seen in black dresses and veiled small hats with bits of white crape +inside their brims. Sometimes their little faces were awful to behold, +but sometimes they wore a strained look of exaltation.</p> + +<p>The Dowager Duchess of Darte was often absent from Eaton Square. She was +understood to be proving herself much stronger than her friends had +supposed her to be. She proved it by doing an extraordinary amount of +work. She did it in her house in Eaton Square—in other people's houses, +in her various estates in the country, where she prepared her villagers +and tenants for a future in which every farm house and cottage must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +as ready for practical service as her own castle or manor house. Darte +Norham was no longer a luxurious place of residence but a potential +hospital for wounded soldiers; so was Barons Court and the beautiful old +Dower House at Malworth.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Robin was with her, but oftener she remained at Eaton Square +and wrote letters and saw busy people and carried out lists of orders.</p> + +<p>It was not every day or evening that she could easily find time to go +out alone and make her way to the Square Gardens and in fact it was not +often to the Gardens she went. There were so many dear places where +trees grew and made quiet retreats—all the parks and heaths and green +suburbs—and everywhere pairs walked or sat and talked, and were frankly +so wholly absorbed in the throb of their own existences that they had no +interest in, or curiosity concerning, any other human beings.</p> + +<p>"Ought I to ask you to come and meet me—as if you were a little +housemaid meeting her life-guardsman?" Donal had said feverishly the +second time they met.</p> + +<p>A sweet flush ran up to the roots of her hair and even showed itself on +the bit of round throat where her dress was open.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you ought," she answered. "There are no little housemaids and +life-guardsmen now. It seems as if there were only—people."</p> + +<p>The very sound of her voice thrilled him—everything about her thrilled +him—the very stuff her plain frock was made of, the small hat she wore, +her way of moving or quiet sitting down near him, but most of all the +lift of her eyes to his—because there was no change in it and the eyes +expressed what they had expressed when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>y had first looked at him. It +was a thing which moved him to-day exactly as it had moved him when he +was too young to explain its meaning and appeal. It was the lovely faith +and yearning acceptance of him as a being whose perfection could not be +questioned. There was in it no conscious beguiling flattery or +appraisement—it was pure acceptance and sweet waiting for what he had +to give. He sometimes found himself trembling with his sense of its +simple unearthliness.</p> + +<p>Few indeed were the people who at this time were wholly normal. The +whole world seemed a great musical instrument, overstrung and giving out +previously unknown harmonies and inharmonies. Amid the thunders of great +crashing discords the individual note was almost unheard—but the +individual note continued its vibrations.</p> + +<p>The tone which expressed Donal Muir—in common with many others of his +age and sex—was a novel and abnormal one. His being no longer sang the +healthy human song of mere joy in life and living. A knowledge of +cruelty and brutal force, of helplessness and despair, grew in him day +by day. Causes for gay good cheer and laughter were swept away, leaving +in their places black facts and needs to gaze at with hard eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you see how everything has <i>stopped</i>—how nothing can go on?" he +said to Robin on their second meeting in the Gardens. "The things we +used to fill our time and amuse ourselves with—dancing and tennis and +polo and theatres and parties—how jolly and all right they were in +their day, but how futile they seem just now. How could one even stand +talk of them! There is only one thi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>ng."</p> + +<p>The blue of his eyes grew dark.</p> + +<p>"It is as if a gigantic wall were piling itself up between us and Life," +he went on. "That is how I see it—a wall piling itself higher every +hour. It's built of dead things and maimed and tortured ones. It's +building itself of things you can't speak of. It stands between all the +world and living—mere living. We can't go on till we've stormed it and +beaten it down—or added our bodies to it. If it isn't beaten down it +will rise to heaven itself and shut it out—and that will be the end of +the world." He shook his head in sudden defiant bitterness. "If it can't +be beaten down, better the world <i>should</i> come to an end."</p> + +<p>Robin put out her hand and caught his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"It will be beaten down," she cried. "You—<i>you</i>—and others like you—"</p> + +<p>"It will be," he said. "And it's because, when men read the day's news, +almost every single one of them feels something leaping up in him that +seems strong enough to batter it to earth single-handed."</p> + +<p>But he gently put out his own hand and took in it the slim gloved one +and looked down at it, as if it were something quite apart and +wonderful—rather as if hands were rare and he had not often seen one +before.</p> + +<p>There was much sound of heavy traffic on the streets. The lumbering of +army motor trucks and vans, the hurry of ever-passing feet and vehicles, +changed the familiar old-time London roar, which had been as that of low +and distant thunder, into the louder rumbling of a storm which had drawn +nearer and was spending its fury within the city's streets themselves. +Just at this moment there arose the sound of some gigantic loaded thin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>g, +passing with unearthly noises, and high above it pierced the shrilling +of fifes.</p> + +<p>Robin glanced about the empty garden.</p> + +<p>"The noise seems to shut us in. How deserted the Gardens look. I feel as +if we were in another world. We are shut in—and shut out," she +whispered.</p> + +<p>He whispered also. He still looked down at the slim gloved hand as if it +had some important connection with the moment.</p> + +<p>"We have so few minutes together," he said. "And I have thought of so +many things I must say to you. I cannot stop thinking about you. I think +of you even when I am obliged to think of something else at the same +time. I am in a sort of tumult every moment I am away from you." He +stopped suddenly and looked up. "I am speaking as if I had been with you +a score of times. I haven't, you know. I have only seen you once since +the dance. But it is as if we had met every day—and it's true—I am in +a sort of tumult. I think thousands of new things and I feel as if I +<i>must</i> tell you of them all."</p> + +<p>"I—think too," said Robin. Oh! the dark dew of her imploring eyes! Oh! +the beat of the little pulse he could actually see in her soft bare +throat. He did not even ask himself what the eyes implored for. They had +always looked like that—as if they were asking to be allowed to be +happy and to love all kind things on earth.</p> + +<p>"One of the new things I cannot help thinking about—it's a queer thing +and I must tell you about it. It's not like me and yet it's the +strongest feeling I ever had. Since the War has changed everything and +everybody, all one's feelings have grown stronger. I never was furious +before—and I've been furious. I've felt savage. I've raged. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>nd the +thing I'm thinking of is like a kind of obsession. It's this—" he +caught her hands again and held her face to face with him. "I—I want to +have you to myself," he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She did not try to move. She only gazed at him.</p> + +<p>"Nobody else <i>has</i> me—at all," she answered. "No one wants me."</p> + +<p>The colour ran up under his fine skin.</p> + +<p>"What I mean is a little different. Perhaps you mayn't understand it. I +want this—our being together in this way—our understanding and +talking—to be something that belongs to <i>us</i> and to no one else. It's +too sudden and wonderful for any one but ourselves to understand. Nobody +else <i>could</i> understand it. Perhaps we don't ourselves—quite! But I +know what it does to <i>me</i>. I can't bear the thought of other people +spoiling the beauty of it by talking it over and looking on." He +actually got up and began to walk about. "Oh, I <i>ought</i> to have +something of my own—before it's all over—I ought! I want this miracle +of a thing—for my own."</p> + +<p>He stopped and stood before her.</p> + +<p>"My mother is the most beloved creature in the world. I have always told +her everything. She has always cared. I don't know why I have not told +her about—this—but I haven't and I don't want to—now. That is part of +the strange thing. I do not want to tell her—even the belovedest woman +that ever lived. I want it for myself. Will you let me have it—will you +help me to keep it?"</p> + +<p>"Like a secret?" said Robin in her soft note.</p> + +<p>"No, not a secret. A sort of sacred, heavenly unbelievable thing we own +together."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<p>"I understand," was Robin's answer. "It does not seem strange to me. I +have thought something like that too—almost exactly like."</p> + +<p>It did not once occur to them to express, even to themselves, in any +common mental form the fact that they were "in love" with each other. +The tide which swept them with it had risen ages before and bore them on +its swelling waves as though they were leaves.</p> + +<p>"No one but ourselves will know that we meet," she went on further. "I +may come and go as I like in these hurried busy hours. Even Lady Kathryn +is as free as if she were a shop girl. It is as you said before—there +is no time to be curious and ask questions. And even Dowie has been +obliged to go to her cousin's widow whose husband has just been killed."</p> + +<p>Shaken, thrilled, exalted, Donal sat down again and talked to her. +Together they made their plans for meeting, as they had done when +Andrews had slackened her guard. There was no guard to keep watch on +them now. And the tide rose hour by hour.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>Aunts and cousins and more or less able relatives were largely drawn on +in these days of stress and need, and Dowie was an efficient person. The +cousin whose husband had been killed in Belgium, leaving a young widow +and two children scarcely younger and more helpless than herself, had no +relation nearer than Dowie, and had sent forth to the good woman a +frantic wail for help in her desolation. The two children were, of +course, on the point of being added to by an almost immediately +impending third, and the mother, being penniless and prostrated, had +remembered the comfortable creature with her solid bank account of +savings and her good sense and good manners and knowledge of a world +larger than the one into which she had been born.</p> + +<p>"You're settled here, my lamb," Dowie had said to Robin. "It's more like +your own home than the other place was. You're well and safe and busy. I +must go to poor Henrietta in Manchester. That's my bit of work, it +seems, and thank God I'm able to do it. She was a fine girl in a fine +shop, poor Henrietta, and she's not got any backbone and her children +are delicate—and another coming. Well, well! I do thank God that you +don't need your old Dowie as you did at first."</p> + +<p>Thus she went away and in her own pleasant rooms in the big house, now +so full of new activities, Robin was as unwatched as if she had been a +young gull flying in and out of its nest in a tall cliff rising out of +the beatin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>g sea.</p> + +<p>Her early fever of anxiety never to lose sight of the fact that she was +a paid servitor had been gradually assuaged by the delicate adroitness +of the Duchess and by the aid of soothing time. While no duty or service +was forgotten or neglected, she realised that life was passed in an +agreeable freedom which was a happy thing. Certain hours and days were +absolutely her own to do what she chose with. She had never asked for +such privileges, but the Duchess with an almost imperceptible adjustment +had arranged that they should be hers. Sometimes she had taken Dowie +away on little holidays to the sea side, often she spent hours in +picture galleries or great libraries or museums. In attendance on the +Duchess she had learned to know all the wonders and picturesqueness of +her London and its environments, and often with Dowie as her companion +she wandered about curious and delightful places and, pleased as a +child, looked in at her kind at work or play.</p> + +<p>While nations shuddered and gasped, cannon belched forth, thunder and +flaming, battleships crashed together and sudden death was almost as +unintermitting as the ticking of the clock, among the thousands of +pairing souls and bodies drawn together in a new world where for the +time being all sound was stilled but the throb of pulsing hearts, there +moved with the spellbound throng one boy and girl whose dream of being +was a thing of entrancement.</p> + +<p>Every few days they met in some wonderfully chosen and always quiet +spot. Donal knew and loved the half unknown remote corners of the older +London too. There were dim gardens behind old law courts, bits of +mellow old enclosures and squares seemingly forgotten by the worl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>d, +there were the immensities of the great parks where embowered paths and +corners were at certain hours as unexplored as the wilderness. When the +Duchess was away or a day of holiday came, there were, more than once, a +few hours on the river where, with boat drawn up under enshrouding +trees, green light and lapping water, sunshine and silence, rare swans +sailing serenely near as if to guard them made the background to the +thrill of heavenly young wonder and joy.</p> + +<p>It was always the same. Each pair of eyes found in the beauty of the +other the same wonder and, through that which the being of each +expressed, each was shaken by the same inward thrill. Sometimes they +simply sat and gazed at each other like happy amazed children scarcely +able to translate their own delight. Their very aloofness from the +world—its unawareness of their story's existence made for the +perfection of all they felt.</p> + +<p>"It could not be like this if any one but ourselves even <i>knew</i>," Donal +said. "It is as if we had been changed into spirits and human beings +could not see us."</p> + +<p>There was seldom much leisure in their meetings. Sometimes they had only +a few minutes in which to exchange a word or so, to cling to each +other's hands. But even in these brief meetings the words that were said +were food for new life and dreams when they were apart. And the tide +rose.</p> + +<p>But it did not overflow until one early morning when they met in a +gorse-filled hollow at Hampstead, each looking at the other pale and +stricken. In Robin's wide eyes was helpless horror and Donal knew too +well what she was going to say.</p> + +<p>"Lord Halwyn is killed!" she gasped out. "And four of his friends! We +all danced the tango together—and that new kicking step!" She began to +sob piteously. Somehow it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> the sudden memory of the almost comic +kicking step which overwhelmed her with the most gruesome sense of +awfulness—as if the world had come to an end.</p> + +<p>"It was new—and they laughed so! They are killed!" she cried beating +her little hands. He had just heard the same news. Five of them! And he +had heard details she had been spared.</p> + +<p>He was as pale as she. He stood before her quivering, hot and cold. +Until this hour they had been living only through the early growing +wonder of their dream; they had only talked together and exquisitely +yearned and thrilled at the marvel of every simple word or hand-touch or +glance, and every meeting had been a new delight. But now suddenly the +being of each shook and called to the other in wild need of the nearer +nearness which is comfort and help. It was early—early morning—the +heath spread about them wide and empty, and at that very instant a +skylark sprang from its hidden nest in the earth and circled upward to +heaven singing as to God.</p> + +<p>"They will take <i>you</i>!" she wailed. <i>"You—you!"</i> And did not know that +she held out her arms.</p> + +<p>But he knew—with a great shock of incredible rapture and tempestuous +answering. He caught her softness to his thudding young chest and kissed +her sobbing mouth, her eyes, her hair, her little pulsing throat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, little love," he himself almost sobbed the words. "Oh, little +lovely love!"</p> + +<p>She melted into his arms like a weeping child. It was as if she had +always rested there and it was mere Nature that he should hold and +comfort her. But he had never heard or dreamed of the possibility of +such anguish as was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> in her sobbing.</p> + +<p>"They will take you!" she said. "And—you danced too. And I must not +hold you back! And I must stay here and wait and wait—and <i>wait</i>—until +some day—! Donal! Donal!"</p> + +<p>He sat down with her amongst the gorse and held her on his knee as if +she had been six years old. She did not attempt to move but crouched +there and clung to him with both hands. She remembered only one +thing—that he must go! And there were cannons—and shells singing and +screaming! And boys like George in awful heaps. No laughing face as it +had once looked—all marred and strange and piteously lonely as they +lay.</p> + +<p>It took him a long time to calm her terror and woe. When at last he had +so far quieted her that her sobs came only at intervals she seemed to +awaken to sudden childish awkwardness. She sat up and shyly moved. "I +didn't mean—I didn't know—!" she quavered. "I am—I am sitting on your +knee like a baby!" But he could not let her go.</p> + +<p>"It is because I love you so," he answered in his compelling boy voice, +holding her gently. "Don't move—don't move! There is no time to think +and wait—or care for anything—if we love each other. We <i>do</i> love each +other, don't we?" He put his cheek against hers and pressed it there. +"Oh, say we do," he begged. "There is no time. And listen to the skylark +singing!"</p> + +<p>The butterfly-wing flutter of her lashes against his cheek as she +pressed the softness of her own closer, and the quick exquisite +indrawing of her tender, half-sobbing childish breath were unspeakably +lovely answering things—though he heard her whisper.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes, Donal! Donal!" And again, "Donal! Donal!"</p> + +<p>And he held her closer and kissed her very gently again. And they sat +and whispered that they loved each other and had always loved each other +and would love each other forever and forever and forever. Poor enrapt +children! It has been said before, but they said it again and yet again. +And the circling skylark seemed to sing at the very gates of God's +heaven.</p> + +<p>So the tide rose to its high flowing.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>The days of gold which linked themselves one to another with strange +dawns of pearl and exquisite awakenings, each a miracle, the gemmed +night whose blue darkness seemed studded with myriads of new stars, the +noons whose heats or rains were all warm scents of flowers and fragrant +mists, wrought themselves into a chain of earthly beauty. The hour in +which the links must break and the chain end was always a faint spectre +veiled by kindly mists which seemed to rise hour by hour to soften and +hide it.</p> + +<p>But often in those days did it occur that the hurrying and changing +visitors to the house in Eaton Square, glancing at Robin as she sat +writing letters, or as she passed them in some hall or room, found +themselves momentarily arrested in an almost startled fashion by the +mere radiance of her.</p> + +<p>"She is lovelier every time one turns one's head towards her," the +Starling said—the Starling having become a vigorous worker and the +Duchess giving welcome to any man, woman or child who could be counted +on for honest help. "It almost frightens me to see her eyes when she +looks up suddenly. It is like finding one's self too close to a star. A +star in the sky is all very well—but a star only three feet away from +one is a kind of shock. What has happened to the child?"</p> + +<p>She said it to Gerald Vesey who between hours of military training was +helping Harrowby to arrange a matinee for the benefit of the Red Cross. +Harrowby had been rejected by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> the military authorities on account of +defective sight and weak chest but had with a promptness unexpected by +his friends merged himself into unprominent, useful hard work which +frequently consisted of doing disagreeable small jobs men of his type +generally shied away from.</p> + +<p>"Something has happened to her," answered Vesey. "She has the flight of +a skylark let out of a cage. Her moving is flight—not ordinary walking. +I hope her work has kept her away from—well, from young gods and +things."</p> + +<p>"The streets are full of them," said Harrowby, "marching to defy death +and springing to meet glory—marching not walking. Young Mars and Ajax +and young Paris with Helen in his eyes. She might be some youngster's +Helen! Why do you hope her work has kept her away?"</p> + +<p>Vesey shook his Greek head with a tragic bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't know," he groaned. "There's too much disaster piled high +and staring in every one of their flushing rash young faces. On they go +with their heads in the air and their hearts thumping, and hoping and +refusing to believe in the devil and hell let loose—and the whole thing +stares and gibbers at them."</p> + +<p>But each day her eyes looked larger and more rapturously full of +heavenly glowing, and her light movements were more like bird flight, +and her swiftness and sweet readiness to serve delighted and touched +people more, and they spoke oftener to and of her, and felt actually a +thought uplifted from the darkness because she was like pure light's +self.</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe met her in the street one evening at twilight and he stopped +to speak to her.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<p>"I have just come from Darte Norham," he said to her. "The Duchess asked +me to see you personally and make sure that you do not miss Dowie too +much—that you are not lonely."</p> + +<p>"I am very busy and am very well taken care of," was her answer. "The +servants are very attentive and kind. I am not lonely at all, thank you. +The Duchess is very good to me."</p> + +<p>Donal evidently knew nothing of her reasons for disliking Lord Coombe. +She could not have told him of them. He did not dislike his relative +himself and in fact rather liked him in spite of the frigidity he +sometimes felt. He, at any rate, admired his cold brilliance of mind. +Robin could not therefore let herself detest the man and regard him as +an enemy. But she did not like the still searching of the grey eyes +which rested on her so steadily.</p> + +<p>"The Duchess wished me to make sure that you did not work too +enthusiastically. She desires you to take plenty of exercise and if you +are tired to go into the country for a day or two of fresh air and rest. +She recommends old Mrs. Bennett's cottage at Mersham Wood. The place is +quite rustic though it is near enough to London to be convenient. You +might come and go."</p> + +<p>"She is too kind—too kind," said Robin. "Oh! <i>how</i> kind to think of me +like that. I will write and thank her."</p> + +<p>The sweet gratitude in her eyes and voice were touching. She could not +speak steadily.</p> + +<p>"I may tell her then that you are well taken care of and that you are +happy," the grey eyes were a shade less cold but still searching and +steady. "You look—happy."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> +<p>"I never was so happy before. Please—please tell her that when you +thank her for me," was Robin's quite yearning little appeal. She held +out her hand to him for the first time in her life. "Thank you, Lord +Coombe, for so kindly delivering her beautiful message."</p> + +<p>His perfect manner did not record any recognition on his part of the +fact that she had done an unexpected thing. But as he went on his way he +was thinking of it.</p> + +<p>"She is very happy for some reason," he thought. "Perhaps the rush and +excitement of her new work exalts her. She has the ecstasied air of a +lovely child on her birthday—with all her world filled with petting and +birthday gifts."</p> + +<p>The Duchess evidently extended her care to the extent of sending special +messages to Mrs. James, the housekeeper, who began to exercise a +motherly surveillance over Robin's health and diet and warmly to +advocate long walks and country visits to the cottage at Mersham Wood.</p> + +<p>"Her grace will be really pleased if you take a day or two while she's +away. She's always been just that interested in those about her, Miss," +Mrs. James argued. "She wouldn't like to come back and find you looking +tired or pale. Not that there's much danger of that," quite beamingly. +"For all your hard work, I must say you look—well, you look as I've +never seen you. And you always had a colour like a new-picked rose."</p> + +<p>The colour like a new-picked rose ran up to the rings of hair on the +girl's forehead as if she were made a little shy.</p> + +<p>"It is because her grace has been so good—and because every one is so +kind to me," she said. "Kindness makes me happ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>y."</p> + +<p>She was so happy that she was never tired and was regarded as a young +wonder in the matter of work and readiness and exactitude. Her accounts, +her correspondence, her information were always in order. When she took +the prescribed walks and in some aloof path or corner met the strong, +slim khaki-clad figure, they walked or stood or sat closely side by side +and talked of many things—though most of all they dwelt on one. She +could ask Donal questions and he could throw light on such things as +young soldiers knew better than most people. She came into close +touch—a shuddering touch sometimes it was—with needs and facts +concerning marchings and trenches and attacks and was therefore able to +visualise and to speak definitely of necessities not always understood.</p> + +<p>"How did you find that out?" little black-clad Lady Kathryn asked her +one day. "I wish I had known it before George went away."</p> + +<p>"A soldier told me," was her answer. "Soldiers know things we don't."</p> + +<p>"The world is made of soldiers now," said Kathryn. "And one is always +talking to them. I shall begin to ask them questions about small things +like that."</p> + +<p>It was the same morning that as they stood alone together for a few +minutes Kathryn suddenly put her hand upon Robin's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You never—<i>never</i> feel the least angry—when you remember about +George—the night of the dance," she pleaded shakily. "Do you, Robin? +You couldn't <i>now</i>! Could you?"</p> + +<p>Tears rushed into Robin's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Never—never!" she said. "I always remember him—oh, quite +differently! He——" she hesitated a second <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>and began again. "He did +something—so wonderfully kind—before he went away—something for me. +That is what I remember. And his nice voice—and his good eyes."</p> + +<p>"Oh! he <i>was</i> good! He was!" exclaimed Kathryn in a sort of despairing +impatience. "So many of them are! It's awful!" And she sat down in the +nearest chair and cried hopelessly into her crushed handkerchief while +Robin tried to soothe—not to comfort her. There was no comfort to +offer. And behind the rose tinted mists her own spectre merely pretended +to veil itself.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When she lay in bed at night in her quiet room she often lay awake long +and long for pure bliss. The world in which people were near—<i>near</i>—to +one another and loved each other, the world Donal had always belonged to +even when he was a little boy, she now knew and lived in. There was no +loneliness in it. If there was pain or trouble some one who loved you +was part of it and you, and so you could bear it. All the radiant +mornings and heavenly nights, all the summer scents of flowers or hay or +hedges in bloom, or new rain on the earth, were things felt just as that +other one felt them and drew in their delights—exactly in the same way. +Once in the night stillness of a sweet dark country lane she had stood +in the circle of Donal's arm, her joyous, warm young breast against his +and they had heard together the singing of a nightingale in a thicket.</p> + +<p>"Let us stand still," he had whispered close to her ear. "Let us not +speak a word—not a word. Oh! little lovely love! Let us only +<i>listen</i>—and be happy!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>Almost every day there were marvels like this. And when they were apart +she could not forget them but walked like a spirit strayed on to earth +and unknowing of its radiance. This was why people glanced at her +curiously and were sometimes vaguely troubled.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>The other woman who loved and was loved by him moved about her world in +these days with a face less radiant than the one people turned to look +at in the street or in its passing through the house in Eaton Square. +Helen Muir's eyes were grave and pondered. She had always known of the +sometime coming of the hour in which would rise the shadow—to him a +cloud of rapture—which must obscure the old clearness of vision which +had existed between them. She had been too well balanced of brain to +allow herself to make a tragedy of it or softly to sentimentalise of +loss. It was mere living nature that it should be so. He would be as +always, a beloved wonder of dearness and beauty when his hour came and +she would look on and watch and be so cleverly silent and delicately +detached from his shy, aloof young moods, his funny, dear involuntary +secrets and reserves. But at any moment—day or night—at any elate +emotional moment <i>ready</i>!</p> + +<p>She had the rare accomplishment of a perfect knowledge of <i>how to wait</i>, +and to wait—if necessary—long. When the first golden down had shown +itself on his cheek and lip she had not noticed it too much and when his +golden soprano voice began to change to a deeper note and annoyed him +with its uncertainties she had spared him awkwardness by making him feel +the transition a casual natural thing, instead of a personal and +characteristic weakness. She had loved every stage of innocence and +ignorance and adorable silliness he ha<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>d passed through and he had grown +closer to her through the medium of each, because nothing in life was so +clear as her lovely wiseness and fine perceptive entirety of sympathy +and poise.</p> + +<p>"I never have to explain really," he said more than once. "You would +understand even if I were an idiot or a criminal. And you'd understand +if I were an archangel."</p> + +<p>With a deep awareness she knew that, when she first realised that the +shadow was rising, it would be different. She would have to watch it +with an aloofness more delicate and yet more warmly sensitive than any +other. In the days when she first thought of him as like one who is +listening to a far-off sound, it seemed possible that in the clamour of +louder echoes this one might lose itself and at last die away even from +memory. It was youth's way to listen and youth's way to find it easy to +forget. He heard many reverberations in these days and had much reason +for thought and action. He thought a great deal, he worked +energetically, he came and went, he read and studied, he obeyed orders +and always stood ready for new ones. Her pride in his vigorous +initiative and practical determination was a glowing flame in her heart. +He meant to be no toy soldier.</p> + +<p>As she became as practical a worker as he was, they did much together +and made plans without ceasing. When he was away she was always doing +things in which he was interested and when he returned he always brought +to her suggestions for new service or the development of the old. But as +the days passed and became weeks she knew that the far-off sound was +still being listened to. She could not have told how—but she knew. And +she saw the beloved dearness and beauty growing in him. H<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>e came into the +house each day in his khaki as if khaki were a shining thing. When he +laughed, or sat and smiled, or dreamed—forgetting she was there—her +very heart quaked with delight in him. Another woman than Robin counted +over his charms and made a tender list of them, wondering at each one. +As a young male pheasant in mating time dons finer gloss and brilliancy +of plumage, perhaps he too bloomed and all unconscious developed added +colour and inches and gallant swing of tread. As people turned half +astart to look at Robin bending over her desk or walking about among +them in her modest dress, so also did they turn to look after him as he +went in springing march along the streets.</p> + +<p>"Some day he will begin to tell me," Helen used to say to herself at +night. "He may only <i>begin</i>—but perhaps it will be to-morrow."</p> + +<p>It was not, however, to-morrow—or to-morrow. And in the midst of his +work he still listened. As he sat and dreamed he listened and sometimes +he was very deep in thought—sitting with his arms folded and his eyes +troubled and questioning of the space into which he looked. The time was +really not very long, but it began to seem so to her.</p> + +<p>"But some day—soon—he will tell me," she thought.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>One afternoon Donal walked into a room where a number of well-dressed +women were talking, drinking tea and knitting or crocheting. It had +begun already to be the fashion for almost every woman to carry on her +arm a work bag and produce from its depths at any moment without +warning something she was making. In the earl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>y days the bag was usually +highly decorated and the article being made was a luxury. Only a few +serious and pessimistic workers had begun to produce plain usefulness +and in this particular Mayfair drawing-room "the War" as yet seemed to +present itself rather as a dramatic and picturesque social asset. A +number of good-looking young officers moved about or sat in corners +being petted and flirted with, while many of the women had the slightly +elated excitement of air produced in certain of their sex by the marked +preponderance of the presence of the masculine element. It was a thing +which made for high spirits and laughs and amiable semi-caressing chaff. +The women who in times of peace had been in the habit of referring to +their "boys" were in these days in great form.</p> + +<p>Donal had been taken to the place by an amusement-loving acquaintance +who professed that a special invitation made it impossible to pass by +without dropping in. The house was Mrs. Erwyn's and had already +attracted attention through the recent <i>débuts</i> of Eileen and Winifred +who had grown up very pretty and still retained their large, curious +eyes and their tendency to giggle musically.</p> + +<p>In very short and slimly alluring frocks they were assisting their +mother in preparing young warriors for the seat of war by giving them +chocolate in egg-shell cups and little cakes. Winifred carried a coral +satin work-bag embroidered with carnations and was crocheting a silk +necktie peculiarly suited to fierce onslaught on the enemy.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she gasped, clutching in secret at Eileen's sleeve when Donal +entered the room. "There he is! Jack said he would make him come! Just +<i>look</i> at him!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gracious!" ejaculated Eileen. "I daren't look! It's not safe!"</p> + +<p>They looked, however, to their irresistible utmost when he came to make +his nice, well-behaved bow to his hostess.</p> + +<p>"I love his bow," Eileen whispered. "It is such a beautiful <i>tall</i> bow. +And he looks as good as he is beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Oh! not <i>good</i> exactly!" protested Winifred. "Just <i>sweet</i>—as if he +thinks you are quite as nice as himself."</p> + +<p>He was taken from one group to another and made much of and flattered +quite openly. He was given claret cup and feathery sandwiches and asked +questions and given information. He was chattered to and whispered about +and spent half an hour in a polite vortex of presentation. He was not as +highly entertained as his companion was because he was thinking of +something else—of a place which seemed incredibly far away from London +drawing-rooms—even if he could have convinced himself that it existed +on the same earth. The trouble was that he was always thinking of this +place—and of others. He could not forget them even in the midst of any +clamour of life. Sometimes he was afraid he forgot where he was and +might look as if he were not listening to people. There were moments +when he caught his breath because of a sudden high throb of his heart. +How could he shut out of his mind that which seemed to <i>be</i> his +mind—his body—the soul of him!</p> + +<p>It was at a moment when he was thinking of this with a sudden sense of +disturbance that a silver toned voice evidently speaking to him +attracted his attention.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>The voice was of silver and the light laugh was silvery.</p> + +<p>"You look as if you were not thinking of any of us," the owner said.</p> + +<p>He turned about to find himself looking at one of the prettiest of the +filmily dressed creatures in the room. Her frock was one of the briefest +and her tiny heels the highest and most slender. The incredible foot and +ankle wore a flesh silk stocking so fine that it looked as though they +were bare—which was the achievement most to be aspired to. Every atom +of her was lovely and her small deep-curved mouth and pure large eyes +were like an angel's.</p> + +<p>"I believe you remember me!" she said after a second or so in which they +held each other's gaze and Donal knew he began to flush slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "I do—now I have looked again. You were—The Lady +Downstairs."</p> + +<p>She flung out the silver laugh again.</p> + +<p>"After all these years! After one has grown old and withered and +wrinkled—and has a grown-up daughter."</p> + +<p>He answered with a dazzling young-man-of-the-world bow and air. He had +not been to Eton and Oxford and touched the outskirts of two or three +London seasons, as a boy beauty and a modest Apollo Belvidere in his +teens, without learning a number of pleasant little ways.</p> + +<p>"You are exactly as you were the morning you came into the Gardens +dressed in crocuses and daffodils. I thought they were daffodils and +crocuses. I said so to my mother afterwards."</p> + +<p>He did not like her but he knew how her world talked to her. And he +wanted to hear her speak—The Lady Downstairs—who h<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>ad not "liked" the +soft-eyed, longing, warm little lonely thing.</p> + +<p>"All people say of you is entirely true," she said. "I did not believe +it at first but I do now." She patted the seat of the small sofa she had +dropped on. "Come and sit here and talk to me a few minutes. Girls will +come and snatch you away presently but you can spare about three +minutes."</p> + +<p>He did as he was told and wondered as he came nearer to the shell +fineness of her cheek and her seraphic smile.</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me something about my only child," she said.</p> + +<p>He hoped very much that he did not flush in his sometimes-troublesome +blond fashion then. He hoped so.</p> + +<p>"I shall be most happy to tell you anything I have the honour of +knowing," he answered. "Only ask."</p> + +<p>"You would be capable of putting on a touch of Lord Coombe's little +stiff air—if you were not so young and polite," she said. "It was Lord +Coombe who told me about the old Duchess' dance—and that you tangoed or +swooped—or kicked with my Robin. He said both of you did it +beautifully."</p> + +<p>"Miss Gareth-Lawless did—at least."</p> + +<p>He was looking down and so did not chance to see the look of a little +cat which showed itself in her quick side glance.</p> + +<p>"She is not my Robin now. She belongs to the Dowager Duchess of +Darte—for a consideration. She is one of the new little females who are +obstinately determined to earn an honest living. I haven't seen her for +months—perhaps years. Is she pretty?" The last three words came out +like the little cat's pounce on a mouse. D<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>onal even felt momentarily +startled.</p> + +<p>But he remained capable of raising clear eyes to hers and saying, "She +was prettier than any one else at the Duchess' house that night. Far +prettier."</p> + +<p>"Have you never seen her since?"</p> + +<p>This was a pounce again and he was quite aware of it.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Feather gurgled.</p> + +<p>"That was really worthy of Lord Coombe," she said. "I wasn't being +pushing, really, Mr. Muir. If any one asks you your intentions it will +be the Dowager—not little Miss Gareth-Lawless' mother. I never +pretended to chaperon Robin. She might run about all over London without +my asking any questions. I am afraid I am not much of a mother. I am not +in the least like yours."</p> + +<p>"Like mine?" He wondered why his mother should be so suddenly dragged +in.</p> + +<p>She laughed with a bright air of being much entertained.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember how Mrs. Muir whisked you away from London the day +after she found out that you were playing with my vagabond of a +Robin—unknowing of your danger? There was a mother for you! It nearly +killed my little pariah."</p> + +<p>She rose and held out her hand.</p> + +<p>"I have not really had my three minutes, but 'I must not detain you any +longer,' as Royal Highnesses say. I must go."</p> + +<p>"Why?" he ejaculated with involuntary impatience.</p> + +<p>"Because Eileen Erwyn is standing with her back markedly turned towards +us, pretending to talk. I know the expression of her little ears and +she has just laid them ba<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>ck close to her head, which means business. Why +do you all at once look <i>quite</i> like Lord Coombe?" Perhaps he did look a +trifle like his relative. He had risen to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I was not aware that I was whisked away from London," he said.</p> + +<p>"I was," with pretty impudence. "You were bundled back to Scotland +almost before daylight. Lord Coombe knew about it. We laughed immensely +together. It was a great joke because Robin fainted and fell into the +mud, or something of the sort, when you didn't turn up the next morning. +She almost pined away and died of grief, tiresome little thing! I told +you Eileen was preparing to assault. Here she is! Hordes of girls will +now advance upon you. So glad to have had you even for a few treasured +seconds. <i>Good</i> afternoon."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + + +<p>It was not a long time before he had left the house, but it seemed long +and as if he had thought a great many rather incoherent things before he +had reached the street and presently parted from his gay acquaintance +and was on his way to his mother's house where she was spending a week, +having come down from Scotland as she did often.</p> + +<p>He walked all the way home because he wanted movement. He also wanted +time to think things over because the intensity of his own mood troubled +him. It was new for him to think much about himself, but lately he had +found himself sometimes wondering at, as well as shaken by, emotional +mental phases through which he passed. A certain moving fancy always +held its own in his thoughts—as a sort of background to them. It was in +his feeling that he was in those weeks a Donal Muir who was unknown and +unseen by the passing world. No one but himself—and Robin—could know +the meaning, the feeling, the nature of this Donal. It was as if he +lived in a new Dimension of whose existence other people did not know. +He could not have explained because it would not have been understood. +He could vaguely imagine that effort at explanation would end—even +begin—by being so clumsy that it would be met by puzzled or unbelieving +smiles.</p> + +<p>To walk about—to sleep—to awaken surrounded by rarefied light and air +in which no object or act or even word or thought wore its past familiar +meaning, or to go about the common streets, feeling as though somehow +one were apart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> and unseen, was a singular thing. Having had a youth +filled with quite virile pleasures and delightful emotions—and to be +lifted above them into other air and among other visions—was, he told +himself, like walking in a dream. To be filled continually with one +thought, to rebel against any obstacle in the path to one desire, and +from morning until night to be impelled by one eagerness for some moment +or hour for which there was reason enough for its having place in the +movings of the universe, if it brought him face to face with what he +must stand near to—see—hear—perhaps touch.</p> + +<p>It was because of the world's madness, because of the human fear and +weeping everywhere, because of the new abysses which seemed to yawn +every day on every side, that both soul and senses were so abnormally +overstrung. He was overwhelmed by exquisite compassions in his thoughts +of Robin, he was afraid for her youngness, her sweetness, the innocent +defencelessness which was like a child's. He was afraid of his own young +rashness and the entrancement of the dream. The great lunging chariot of +War might plunge over them both.</p> + +<p>But never for one moment could he force himself to regret or repent. +Boys in their twenties already lay in their thousands on the fields over +there. And she would far, far rather remember the kind hours and know +that they were hidden in his heart for him to remember as he died—if he +died! She had lain upon his breast holding him close and fast and she +had sobbed hard—hard—but she had said it again and again and over and +over when he had asked her.</p> + +<p>It was this aspect of her and things akin to it which had risen in his +incoherent thoughts when he was manœuvering to get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> away from the +drawing-room full of chattering people. He knew himself overwhelmed +again by the exquisite compassion because the thing Mrs. Gareth-Lawless +had told him had brought back all the silent anguish of impotent +childish rebellion the morning when he had been awakened before the day, +and during the day when he had thought his small breast would burst as +the train rushed on with him—away—away!</p> + +<p>And Robin had told him the rest—sitting one afternoon in the same chair +with him—a roomy, dingy red arm-chair in an old riverside inn where +they had managed to meet and had spent a long rainy day together. She +had told him—in a queer little strained voice—about the waiting—and +waiting—and waiting. And about the certainty of her belief in his +coming. And the tiny foot which grew numb. And the slow lump climbing in +her throat. And the rush under the shrubs—and the beating hands—and +cries—and of the rose dress and socks and crushed hat covered with mud. +She had not been piteous or dramatic. She had been so simple that she +had broken his heart in two and he had actually hidden his face in her +hair.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Donal, dear. You're crying!" she had said and she had broken down +too and for a few seconds they had cried together rocking in each +other's arms, while the rain streamed down the window panes and +beautifully shut them in, since there are few places more enclosing than +the little, dingy private parlour of a remote English inn on a +ceaselessly rainy day.</p> + +<p>It had all come back before he reached the house in Kensington whose +windows looked into the thick leaves of the plane trees. And at the same +time he knew that the burning anger which kept rising in him was +perhaps undu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>e and not quite fair. But he was thinking it had <i>not</i> been +mere cruel chance—it could have been helped—it need never have been! +It had been the narrow cold hard planning of grown-up people who knew +that they were powerful enough to enforce any hideous cruelty on +creatures who had no defence. He actually found his heated mind making a +statement of the case as wild as this and its very mercilessness of +phrase checked him. The grown-up person had been his mother—his +long-beloved—and he was absolutely calling her names. He pulled himself +up vigorously and walked very fast. But the heat did not quite die down +and other thoughts surged up in spite of his desire to keep his head and +be reasonably calm. There <i>had</i> been a certain narrowness in the tragic +separation of two happy children if the only reason for it had been that +the mother of one was a pretty, frivolous, much gossiped about woman +belonging to a rather too rapid set. And if it had been a reason then, +how would it present itself now? What would happen to an untouched dream +if argument and disapproval crashed into it? If his first intensely +passionate impulse had been his desire to save it even from the mere +touch of ordinary talk and smiling glances because he had felt that they +would spoil the perfect joy of it, what would not open displeasure and +opposition make of the down on the butterfly's wing—the bloom on the +peach? It was not so he phrased in his thoughts the things which +tormented him, but the figures would have expressed his feeling. What if +his mother were angry—though he had never seen her angry in his life +and could only approach the idea because he had just found out that she +had once been cruel—yes, it had been cruel! What if Coombe actually +chose to interfere. Coombe with his unmoving face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>, his perfection of +exact phrase and his cold almost inhuman eye! After all the matter +concerned him closely.</p> + +<p>"While Houses threaten to crumble and Heads may fall into the basket +there are things we must remember until we disappear," he had said not +long ago with this same grey eye fixed on him. "I have no son. If +Marquisates continue to exist you will be the Head of the House of +Coombe."</p> + +<p>What would <i>he</i> make of a dream if he handled it? What would there be +left? Donal's heart burned in his side when he recalled Feather's +impudent little laugh as she had talked of her "vagabond Robin," her +"small pariah." He was a boy entranced and exalted by his first passion +and because he was a sort of young superman it was not a common one, +though it shared all the unreason and impetuous simplicities of the most +rudimentary of its kind. He could not think very calmly or logically; +both the heaven and the earth in him swept him along as with the rush of +the spheres. It was Robin who was foremost in all his thoughts. It was +because she was so apart from all the world that it had seemed beautiful +to keep her so in his heart. She had always been so aloof a little +creature—so unclaimed and naturally left alone. Perhaps that was why +she had retained through the years the untouched look which he had +recognised even at the dance, in the eyes which only waited exquisitely +for kindness and asked for love. No one had ever owned her, no one +really knew her—people only saw her loveliness—no one knew her but +himself—the little beautiful thing—his own—his <i>own</i> little thing! +Nothing on earth should touch her!</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> +<p>Because his thinking ended—as it naturally always did—in such thoughts +as these last, he was obliged to turn back when he saw the plane trees +and walk a few hundred feet in the opposite direction to give himself +time. He even turned a corner and walked down another street. It was +just as he turned that poignant chance brought him face to face with a +girl in deep new mourning with the border of white crêpe in the brim of +her close hat. Her eyes were red and half-closed with recent crying and +she had a piteous face. He knew what it all meant and involuntarily +raised his hand in salute. He scarcely knew he did it and for a second +she seemed not to understand. But the next second she burst out crying +and hurriedly took out her handkerchief and hid her face as she passed. +One of the boys lying on the blood-wet mire in Flanders, was Donal's +bitter thought, but he had had his kind hours to recall at the last +moment—and even now she had them too.</p> + +<p>Helen Muir from her seat at the window looking into the thick leafage of +the trees saw him turn at the entrance and heard him mount the steps. +The days between them and approaching separation were growing shorter +and shorter. She thought this every morning when she awakened and +realised anew that the worst of it all was that neither knew how short +they were and that the thing which was to happen would be sudden—as +death is always sudden however long one waits. He had never reached even +that <i>beginning</i> of the telling—whatsoever he had to tell. Perhaps it +was coming now. She had tried to prepare herself by endeavouring to +imagine how he would look when he began—a little shy—even a little +lovably awkward? But his engaging smile—his quite darling smile—would +show itself in spite of him as it always did.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<p>But when he came into the room his look was a new one to her. It was not +happy—it was not a free look. There was something like troubled mental +reservation in it—and when had there ever been mental reservation +between them? Oh, no—that must not—must not be <i>now</i>! Not now!</p> + +<p>He sat down with his cap in his hand as if he had forgotten to lay it +aside or as if he were making a brief call.</p> + +<p>"What has happened, Donal?" she said. "Have you come to tell me that—?"</p> + +<p>"No, not that—though that may come any moment now. It is something +else."</p> + +<p>"What else?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to begin," he said. "There has never been anything +like this before. But I must know from you that a—silly woman—has not +been telling me spiteful lies. She is the kind of woman who would say +anything it amused her to say."</p> + +<p>"What was it she said?"</p> + +<p>"I was dragged into a house by Clonmel. He said he had promised to drop +in to tea. There were a lot of people. Mrs. Gareth-Lawless was there and +began to talk to me."</p> + +<p>"Why did you think she might be telling you spiteful lies?"</p> + +<p>"That is it," he broke out miserably impetuous. "Perhaps it may all seem +childish and unimportant to you. But you have always been perfect. You +were the one perfect being. I have never doubted you—"</p> + +<p>"Do you doubt me now?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps no one but myself could realise that a sort of sore spot—yes, +a sore spot—was left in my mind for years because of a wretched thing +which happened when I was a child. <i>Did</i> you deliberately take me back +to Scotland so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> suddenly that early morning? Was it a thing which could +have been helped?"</p> + +<p>"I thought not, Donal. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps I was right."</p> + +<p>"Was it because you wanted to separate me from a child I was fond of?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And your idea was that because her mother was a flighty woman with bad +taste and the wrong surrounding her poor little girl would contaminate +me?"</p> + +<p>"It was because her mother was a light woman and all her friends were +like her. And your affection for the child was not like a child's +affection."</p> + +<p>"No, it wasn't," he said and he leaned forward with his forehead in his +hands.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to put an end to it before it was too late. I saw nothing but +pain in it for you. It filled me with heart-broken fear to think of the +girl such a mother and such a life would make."</p> + +<p>"She was such a little thing—" said Donal, "—such a tender mite of a +thing! She's such a little thing even now."</p> + +<p>"Is she?" said Helen.</p> + +<p>Now she knew he would not tell her. And she was right. Up to that +afternoon there had always been the chance that he would. Night after +night he had been on the brink of telling her of the dream. Only as the +beauty and wonder of it grew he had each day given himself another day, +and yet another and another. But he had always thought the hour would +come and he had been sure she would not grudge him a moment he had held +from her. Now he shut everything within himself.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<p>"I wish you had not done it. It was a mistake," was all he said. +Suddenly he felt thrown back upon himself, heartsick and cold. For the +first time in his life he could not see her side of the question. The +impassioned egotism of first love overwhelmed him.</p> + +<p>"You met her on the night of the old Duchess' dance," Helen said.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You have met her since?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It is useless for older people to interfere," she said. "We have loved +each other very much. We have been happy together. But I can do nothing +to help you. Oh! Donal, my own dear!"</p> + +<p>Her involuntary movement of putting her hand to her throat was a piteous +gesture.</p> + +<p>"You are going away," she pleaded. "Don't let anything come between +us—not <i>now</i>! It is not as if you were going to stay. When you come +back perhaps—"</p> + +<p>"I may never come back," he answered and as he said it he saw again the +widowed girl who had hurried past him crying because he had saluted her. +And he saw Robin as he had seen her the night before—Robin who belonged +to no one—whom no one missed at any time when she went in or out—who +could come and go and meet a man anywhere as if she were the only little +soul in London. And yet who had always that pretty, untouched air.</p> + +<p>"I only wanted to be sure. It was a mistake. We will never speak of it +again," he added.</p> + +<p>"If it was a mistake, forgive it. It was only because I could not hear +that your life should not be beautiful. These are not like other days. +Oh! Donal my dear, my dear!" And she broke into weeping and took him in +her arms and he held her and kissed her tenderly. But whatsoever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +happened—whatsoever he did he knew that if he was to save and hold his +bliss to the end he could not tell her now.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Bennett's cottage on the edge of Mersham Wood seemed to Robin when +she first saw it to be only a part of a fairy tale. It is true that only +in certain bits of England and in pictures in books of fairy tales did +one see cottages of its kind, and in them always lived with their +grandmothers—in the fairy stories as Robin remembered—girls who would +in good time be discovered by wandering youngest sons of fairy story +kings. The wood of great oaks and beeches spread behind and at each side +of it and seemed to have no end in any land on earth. It nestled against +its primæval looking background in a nook of its own. Under the broad +branches of the oaks and beeches tall ferns grew so thick that they +formed a forest of their own—a lower, lighter, lacy forest where +foxglove spires pierced here and there, and rabbits burrowed and sniffed +and nibbled, and pheasants hid nests and sometimes sprang up rocketting +startlingly. Birds were thick in the wood and trilled love songs, or +twittered and sang low in the hour before their bedtime, filling the +twilight with clear adorable sounds. The fairy-tale cottage was +whitewashed and its broad eaved roof was thatched. Hollyhocks stood in +haughty splendour against its walls and on either side its path. The +latticed windows were diamond-paned and their inside ledges filled with +flourishing fuchsias and trailing white campanula, and mignonette. The +same flowers grew thick in the crowded blooming garden. And there were +nests in the hawthorn hedge. And there was a small wick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>et gate.</p> + +<p>When Robin caught sight of it she wondered—for a moment—if she were +going to cry. Only because it was part of the dream and could be nothing +else—unless one wakened.</p> + +<p>On the tiny porch covered with honeysuckle in bloom, a little, old fairy +woman was sitting knitting a khaki sock very fast. She wore a clean +print gown and a white apron and a white cap with a frilled border. She +had a stick and a nutcracker face and a pair of +large iron bowed spectacles. She was so busy that she did not seem to +hear Robin as she walked up the path between the borders of pinks and +snapdragons, but when she was quite close to her she glanced up.</p> + +<p>Robin thought she looked almost frightened when she saw her. She got up +and made an apologetic curtsey.</p> + +<p>"Eh!" she ejaculated, "to think of me not hearing you. I do beg your +pardon, Miss, I do that. I was really waiting here to be ready for you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Bennett," Robin answered in a sweet hurry to +reassure her. "I hope you are very well." And she held out her hand.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bennett had only been shocked at her own apparent inattention to +duty. She was not really frightened and her <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: The original text reads "nut-cracker"">nut-cracker</ins> face illuminated itself with delighted smiles.</p> + +<p>"I don't hear very well at the best of times," she said. "And I've got a +bit of a cold. Just worry, Miss, just worry it is—along of this 'ere +war and my grandsons going marching off every few days seems like. Dick, +that's the youngest as was always my pet, he's the last and he'll be off +any minute—and these is his socks."</p> + +<p>Robin actually picked up a sock and patted it softly—with a childish +quiver of her chin. It seemed alive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" she said. "Oh! dear! Oh! dear!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bennett winked tears out of her eyes hastily.</p> + +<p>"Me being hard of hearing is no excuse for me talking about myself first +thing. Dick, he's an Englishman—and they're all Englishmen—and it's +Englishmen that's got to stand up and do their duty—same as they did at +Waterloo." She swallowed valiantly the lump in her throat. "Her grace +wrote to me about you, Miss, with her own kind hand. She said the +cottage was so quiet and pretty you wouldn't mind it being little—and +me being a bit deaf."</p> + +<p>"I shall mind nothing," said Robin. She raised her voice and tried to +speak very distinctly so as to make sure that the old fairy woman would +hear her. "It is the most beautiful cottage I ever saw in my life. It is +like a cottage in a fairy story."</p> + +<p>"That's what the vicar says, Miss, my dear," was Mrs. Bennett's cheerful +reply. "He says it ought to be hid some way because if the cheap +trippers found it out they'd wear the life out of me with pestering me +to give 'em six-penny teas. They'd get none from me!" quite fiercely. +"Her grace give it to me her own self and it's on Mersham land and not a +lawyer on earth could put me out."</p> + +<p>She became quite active and bustling—picking a spray of honeysuckle and +a few sprigs of mignonette from near the doorway and handing them to +Robin.</p> + +<p>"Your room's full of 'em," she said, "them and musk and roses. You'll +sleep and wake in the midst of flowers and birds singing and bees +humming. And I can give you rich milk and home-baked bread, God bless +you! You <i>are</i> welcome. Come in, my pretty dear—Miss."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<p>The girl came down from London to the cottage on the wood's edge several +times during the weeks that followed. It was easy to reach and too +beautiful and lone and strange to stay away from. The War ceased where +the wood began. Mrs. Bennett delighted in her and, regarding the Duchess +as a sort of adored deity, would have served her lodger on bended knee +if custom had permitted. Robin could always make her hear, and she sat +and listened so tenderly to her stories of her grandsons that there grew +up between them an absolute affection.</p> + +<p>"And yet we don't see each other often," the old fairy woman had said. +"You flit in like, and flit away again as if you was a butterfly, I +think sometimes when I'm sitting here alone. When you come to stay +you're mostly flitting about the wood and I only see you bit by bit. But +I couldn't tell you, Miss, my dear, what it's like to me. You do love +the wood, don't you? It's a fairy place too—same as this is."</p> + +<p>"It's all fairy, Mrs. Bennett," Robin said. "Perhaps I am a fairy too +when I am here. Nothing seems quite earthly."</p> + +<p>She bent forward suddenly and took the old face in her hands and kissed +it.</p> + +<p>"Eh! I shouldn't wonder," the old fairy woman chuckled sweetly. "I used +to hear tales of fairies in Devonshire in my young days. And you do look +like something witched—but you've been witched for happiness. Babies +look that way for a bit sometimes—as if they brought something with +them when they come to earth."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Robin. "Yes."</p> + +<p>It was true that she only flitted in and out, and that she spent hours +in the depths of the wood, and always came back as if <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>from fairy land.</p> + +<p>Once she had a holiday of nearly a week. She came down from town one +afternoon in a pretty white frock and hat and white shoes and with an +air of such delicate radiance about her that Mrs. Bennett would have +clutched her to her breast, but for long-ago gained knowledge of the +respect due to those connected with great duchesses.</p> + +<p>"Like a new young bride you look, my pretty dear—Miss," she cried out +when she first saw her as she came up the path between the hollyhocks in +the garden. "God's surely been good to you this day. There's something +like heaven in your face." Robin stood still a moment looking like the +light at dawn and breathing with soft quickness as if she had come in +haste.</p> + +<p>"God has been good to me for a long time," she said.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the deep wood she walked with Donal night after night when the +stillness was like heaven itself. Now and then a faint rustle among the +ferns or the half awakened movement and sleepy note of a bird in the +leaves slightly stirred the silence, but that was all. Lances of +moonlight pierced through the branches and their slow feet made no sound +upon the thick moss. Here and there pale foxglove spires held up their +late blossoms like flower spirits in the dim light.</p> + +<p>Donal thought—the first night she came to him softly through the +ferns—that her coming was like that of some fair thing not of earth—a +vision out of some old legend or ancient poem of faëry. But he marched +towards her, soldierly—like a young Lohengrin whose silver mail had +ch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>anged to khaki. There was no longer war in the world—there never had +been.</p> + +<p>"I brought it with me," he said and took her close in his arms. For a +few minutes the wood seemed more still than before.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear my heart beat?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"I feel it. Do you hear mine?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"We love each other so!" he breathed. "We love each other so!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered. "Yes."</p> + +<p>Did every one who saw him know how beautiful he was? Oh his smile that +loved her so and made her feel there was no fear or loneliness left on +earth! He was so tall and straight and strong—a young soldier statue! +When he laughed her heart always gave a strange little leap. It was such +a lovely sound. His very hands were beautiful—with long, strong smooth +fingers and smooth firm palms. Oh! Donal! Donal! And while she smiled as +a little angel might smile, small sobs of joy filled her throat.</p> + +<p>They sat together among the ferns, close side by side. He showed her the +thing he had brought with him. It was a very slender chain of gold with +a plain gold ring hung on it. He put the chain around her neck but +slipped the ring on her finger and kissed it again and again.</p> + +<p>"Wear it when we are together," he whispered. "I want to see it. It +makes you mine as much as if I had put it on in a church with a huge +organ playing."</p> + +<p>"I should be yours without it," answered Robin. "I <i>am</i> yours."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he whispered again. "You are mine. And I am yours. It always was +so—since the morning stars sang together."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p>"There are more women than those in Belgium who are being swept over by +the chariots of war and trampled on by marching feet," the Duchess of +Darte said to a group of her women friends on a certain afternoon.</p> + +<p>The group had met to work and some one had touched on a woeful little +servant-maid drama which had painfully disclosed itself in her +household. A small, plain kitchen maid had "walked out" in triumphant +ecstasy with a soldier who, a few weeks after bidding her good-bye, had +been killed in Belgium. She had been brought home to her employer's +house by a policeman who had dragged her out of the Serpentine. An old +story had become a modern one. In her childish ignorance and terror of +her plight she had seen no other way, but she had not had courage to +face more than very shallow water, with the result of finding herself +merely sticking in the mud and wailing aloud.</p> + +<p>"The policeman was a kind-hearted, sensible fellow," said the relator of +the incident. "He had a family of his own and what he said was 'She +looked such a poor little drowned rat of a thing I couldn't make up my +mind to run her in, ma'am. This 'ere war's responsible for a lot more +than what the newspapers tell about. Young chaps in uniform having to +brace up and perhaps lying awake in the night thinking over what the +evening papers said—and young women they've been sweet-heartin' +with—they get wild, in a way, and cling to each other and feel +desperate—and he talks and she cries—and he ma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>y have his head blown +off in a week's time. And who wonders that there's trouble.' Do you know +he actually told me that there were a number of girls he was keeping a +watch on. He said he'd begun to recognise a certain look in their eyes +when they walked alone in the park. He said it was a 'stark, frightened +look.' I didn't know what he meant, but it gave me a shudder."</p> + +<p>"I think I know," said the Duchess. "Poor, wretched children! There +ought to be a sort of moratorium in the matter of social laws. The old +rules don't hold. We are facing new conditions. This is a thing for +women to take in hand, practically, as they are taking in hand other +work. It must be done absolutely without prejudice. There is no time to +lecture or condemn or even deplore. There is only time to try to heal +wounds and quiet maddening pain and save life."</p> + +<p>Lady Lothwell took the subject up.</p> + +<p>"In the country places and villages, where the new army is swarming to +be billeted, the clergymen and their wives are greatly agitated. Even in +times of peace one's vicar's wife tells one stories in shocked whispers +of 'immorality'—though the rustic mind does not seem to regard it as +particularly immoral. An illegal baby is generally accepted with simple +resignation or merely a little fretful complaint even in quite decent +cottages. It is called—rather prettily, I think—'a love child' and the +nicer the grandparents are, the better they treat it. Mrs. Gracey, the +wife of our rector at Mowbray Wells told me a few days ago that she and +her husband were quite in despair over the excited, almost lawless, +holiday air of the village girls. There are so many young men about and +uniforms have what she calls 'such a dreadful effect.' Giddy and +unreliable young women are wandering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> about the lanes and fields with +stranger sweethearts at all hours. Even girls who have been good +Sunday-school scholars are becoming insubordinate. She did not in the +least mean to be improperly humorous—in fact she was quite tragic when +she said that the rector felt that he ought to marry, on the spot, every +rambling couple he met. He had already performed the ceremony in a +number of cases when he felt it was almost criminally rash and idiotic, +or would have been in time of peace."</p> + +<p>"That was what I meant by speaking of the women who were being swept +over by the chariot of war," said the Duchess. "It involves issues the +women who can think must hold in their minds and treat judicially. One +cannot moralise and be shocked before an <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: The original text reads "advance-ing"">advancing</ins> tidal wave. It has always been part of the unreason and +frenzy of times of war. When Death is near, Life fights hard for itself. +It does not care who or what it strikes."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The tidal wave swept on and the uninitiated who formed the mass of +humanity in every country in the world, reading with feverish anxiety +almost hourly newspaper extras every day, tried to hide a secret fear +that no one knew what was really happening or could trust to the +absolute truth of any spoken or published statement. The exultant hope +of to-day was dashed to-morrow. The despair of the morning was lightened +by gleams of hope before night closed, and was darkened and lightened +again and again. Great cities and towns aroused themselves from a +half-somnolent belief in security. Village by village England awakened +to what she faced in com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>mon with an amazed and half incredulous world. +The amazement and incredulity were founded upon a certain mistaken +belief in a world predominance of the laws of decency and civilisation. +The statement of piety and morality that the world in question was a bad +one, filled with crime, had somehow so far been accepted with a +guileless reservation in the matter of a ruling majority whose lapses +from virtue were at least not openly vaunted treachery, blows struck at +any unprepared back presenting itself, merciless attacks on innocence +and weakness, and savage gluttings of lust, of fury, with exultant pæans +of self-glorification and praise of a justly applauding God. Before such +novelty of onslaught the British mind had breathless moments of feeling +itself stupid and incapably aghast. But after its first deep draughts of +the cup of staggering the nation braced up a really muscular back and +stood upon hard, stout legs and firm feet, immovable and fixed on solid +British earth.</p> + +<p>Incompetent raw troops gathered from fields, shops and desks, half +trained, half clad, half armed, according to pessimistic report, fared +forth across the narrow Channel and did strangely competent things—this +being man's way when in dire moments needs must be. Riff-raff exalted +itself and also died competently enough. The apparently aimless male +offspring of the so-called useless rich and great died competently +enough with the rest. The Roll of Honour raked fore and aft. The +youngsters who had tangoed best and had shone in <i>cabarets</i> were swept +away as grass by scythes.</p> + +<p>"Will any one be left?" white Robin shuddered, clinging to Donal in the +wood at night. "Every day there are new ones. Almost every one who has +gone! Kathryn says that no one—<i>no one</i> will ever come back!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> +<p>"Hush—sh! Hush—sh!" whispered Donal. "Hush—sh! little lovely love!" +And his arms closed so tightly around her that she could for a few +moments scarcely breathe.</p> + +<p>The Duchess had much work for her to do and was glad to see that the +girl looked well and untired. When she was at home in Eaton Square her +grace was even more strict about the walks and country holidays than she +had been when she was away.</p> + +<p>"Health and strength were never so much needed," she said. "We must keep +our bodies in readiness for any test or strain."</p> + +<p>This notwithstanding, there was at last a morning when Robin looked as +though she had not slept well. It was so unusual a thing that the +Duchess spoke of it.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not been sitting up late at your work?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No. Thank you," Robin answered. "I went to bed last night at ten +o'clock."</p> + +<p>The Duchess looked at her seriously. Never before had she seen her with +eyes whose misted heaviness suggested tears. Was it possible that there +seemed something at once strained and quivering about her mouth—as if +she were making an effort to force the muscles to hold it still.</p> + +<p>"I hope you would tell me if you had a headache. You must, you know, my +dear."</p> + +<p>Robin's slight movement nearer to her had the air of being almost +involuntary—as if it were impelled by an uncontrollable yearning to be +a little near <i>something</i>—some one. The strained and quivering look was +even more noticeable and her lifted eyes singularly expressed something +she was trying to hold back.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> +<p>"Thank you—indeed!" she said. "But it isn't headache. It is—things I +could not help thinking about in the night."</p> + +<p>The Duchess took her hand and patted it with firm gentleness.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't, my dear. You must try hard <i>not</i> to do it. We shall be of +no use if we let our minds go. We must try to force ourselves into a +sort of deafness and blindness in certain directions. I am trying—with +all my might."</p> + +<p>"I know I must," Robin answered not too steadily. "I must—more than +most people. I'm not brave and strong. I'm weak and cowardly—cowardly." +Her breath caught itself and she went on quickly, "Work helps more than +anything else. I want to <i>work</i> all the time. Please may I begin the +letters now?"</p> + +<p>She was bending over her desk when Lord Coombe came in earlier than was +his custom. The perfection of his dress, his smooth creaselessness and +quiet harmony of color and line seemed actually to add to the aged look +of his face. His fine rigidity was worn and sallowed. After his greeting +phrases he stood for a space quite silent while the Duchess watched him +as if waiting.</p> + +<p>"He has gone?" she said presently. She spoke in quite a low voice, but +it reached Robin's desk.</p> + +<p>"Yes. At dawn. The suddenness and secrecy of these goings add to the +poignancy of them. I saw him but he did not see me. I found out the hour +and made an effort. He is not my boy, but I wanted to <i>look</i> at him. It +was perhaps for the last time. Good God! What a crime!"</p> + +<p>He spoke low himself and rather quickly and with a new tone in his +voice—as if he had been wrenched and was in pain.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<p>"I am not in a heroic mood. I was only sick and furious when I watched +them go by. They were a handsome, clean-built lot. But he stood out—the +finest among them. His mere beauty and strength brought hideous thoughts +into one's mind—thoughts of German deviltries born of hell."</p> + +<p>Robin was looking at her hand which had stopped writing. She could not +keep it still. She must get up and go to her own rooms. Would her knees +shake under her like that when she tried to stand on her feet? The low +talking went on and she scarcely heard what was said. She and Donal had +always known this was coming; they had known it even the first day they +had talked together in the Garden. The knowledge had been the spectre +always waiting hidden at some turn in the path ahead. That was why they +had been so frightened and desperate and hurried. They had clung +together and shut their eyes and caught at the few hours—the few +heavenly hours. He had said it would come suddenly. But she had not +thought it would be as sudden as this. Last night a soldier had brought +a few wild, passionate blotted lines to her. Yes, they had been blotted +and blistered. She pushed her chair back and began to rise from it.</p> + +<p>There had been a few seconds of dead silence. Lord Coombe had been +standing thinking and biting his lip. "He is gone!" he said. <i>"Gone!"</i></p> + +<p>They did not notice Robin as she left the room. Outside the door she +stood in the hall and looked up the staircase piteously. It looked so +long and steep that she felt it was like a path up a mountain. But she +moved towards the bottom step and began to climb stair by stair—stair +by stair—dragging at the rail of the balustrade.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +<p>When she reached her room she went in and shut the door. She fell down +upon the floor and sat there. Long ago his mother had taken him away +from her. Now the War had taken him. The spectre stood straight in the +path before her.</p> + +<p>"It was such a short time," she said, shaking. "And he is gone. And the +fairy wood is there still—and the ferns!—All the nights—always!"</p> + +<p>And what happened next was not a thing to be written about—though at +the time the same thing was perhaps at that very hour happening in +houses all over England.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p>The effect of something like unreality produced in the mind of the +mature and experienced by a girl creature, can only be equaled by the +intensity of the sense of realness in the girl herself. That centre of +the world in which each human being exists is in her case more +poignantly a centre than any other. She passes smiling or serious, a +thing of untried eyes and fair unmarked smoothness of texture, and +onlookers who have lived longer than she know that the unmarked +untriedness is a sign that so far "nothing" has happened in her life and +in most cases believe that "nothing" is happening. They are quite sure +they know—long after the thing has ceased to be true. The surface of +her is so soft and fair, and its lack of any suggestion of abysses or +chasms seems to make them incredible things. But the centre of the world +contains all things and when one is at the beginning of life and sees +them for the first time they assume strange proportions. It enters a +room, it talks lightly or sweetly, it whirls about in an airy dance, +this pretty untested thing; and, among those for whom the belief in the +reality of strange proportions has modified itself through long +experience, only those of the thinking habit realise that at any moment +the testing—the marking with deep scores may begin or has perhaps begun +already. At eighteen or twenty a fluctuation of flower-petal tint which +may mean an imperfect night can signify no really important cause. What +could eighteen or twenty have found to think about in night watches? +But in its centre of the world as it s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>tands on the stage with the +curtain rolling up, those who have lived longer—so very long—are only +the dim audience sitting in the shadowy auditorium looking on at +passionately real life with which they have really nothing whatever to +do, because what they have seen is past and what they have learned has +lost its importance and meaning with the changing of the years. The +lying awake and tossing on pillows—if lying awake there is—has its +cause in <i>real</i> joys—or griefs—not in things atrophied by time. So it +seems on the stage, in the first act. If the curtain goes down on +anguish and despair it seems equally the pitiless truth that it can +never rise again; the play is ended; the lights go out forever; the +theatre crumbles to dust; the world comes to an end. But the dim +audience sitting in the shadow do not generally know this.</p> + +<p>To those who came in and out of the house in Eaton Square the figure +sitting at the desk writing letters or taking orders from the Duchess +was that of the unconsidered and unreal girl. Among the changing groups +of women with intensely absorbed and often strained faces the +kind-hearted observing ones were given to noticing Robin and speaking to +her almost affectionately because she was so attractive an object as +well as so industriously faithful to her work. Girls who were +Jacqueminot-rose flushed and who looked up to answer people with eyes +like an antelope's were not customarily capable of concentrating their +attention entirely upon brief letters of request and lists of +necessaries for hospitals and comfort kits. This type was admitted to be +frequently found readier for service in the preparation of +entertainments "for the benefit of"—more especially when such benefits +took the form of dancing. But the Duchess' little Miss Lawless came and +went on errands, wasting no time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> She never forgot things or was slack +in any way. Her antelope eyes expressed a kind of yearning eagerness to +do all she could without a moment's delay.</p> + +<p>"She works as if it were a personal thing with her," Lady Lothwell once +said thoughtfully. "I have seen girls wear that look when they are war +brides or have lovers or brothers at the front."</p> + +<p>But she remained to the world generally only a rather specially lovely +specimen of the somewhat unreal young being with whom great agonies and +terrors had but little to do.</p> + +<p>On a day when the Duchess had a cold and was obliged to remain in her +room Robin was with her, writing and making notes of instruction at her +bedside. In the afternoon a cold and watery sun making its way through +the window threw a chill light on her as she drew near with some papers +in her hand. It was the revealing of this light which made the Duchess +look at her curiously.</p> + +<p>"You are not quite as blooming as you were, my child," she said. "About +two months ago you were particularly blooming. Lady Lothwell and Lord +Coombe and several other people noticed it. You have not been taking +your walks as regularly as you did. Let me look at you." She took her +hand and drew her nearer. "No. This will not do."</p> + +<p>Robin stood very still.</p> + +<p>"How could <i>any</i> one be blooming!" broke from her.</p> + +<p>"You are thinking about things in the night again," said the Duchess.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robin. "Every night. Sometimes all night."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> +<p>The Duchess watched her anxiously.</p> + +<p>"It's so—lonely!" There was a hint of hysteric breakdown in the +exclamation. "How can I—<i>bear</i> it!" She turned and went back to her +writing table and there she sat down and hid her face, trembling in an +extraordinary way.</p> + +<p>"You are as unhappy as that?" said the Duchess. "And you are <i>lonely</i>?"</p> + +<p>"All the world is lonely," Robin cried—not weeping, only shaking. +"Everything is left to itself to suffer. God has gone away."</p> + +<p>The Duchess trembled a little herself. She too had hideously felt +something like the same thing at times of late. But this soft shaking +thing—! There shot into her mind like a bolt a sudden thought. Was this +something less inevitable—something more personal? She wondered what +would be best to say.</p> + +<p>"Even older people lose their nerve sometimes," she decided on at last. +"When you said that work was the greatest help you were right. Work—and +as much sleep as one can get, and walking and fresh air. And we must +help each other—old and young. I want you to help <i>me</i>, child. I need +you."</p> + +<p>Robin stood up and steadied herself somehow. She took up a letter in a +hand not yet quite still.</p> + +<p>"Please need me," she said. "Please let me do everything—anything—and +never stop. If I never stop in the day time perhaps I shall sleep better +at night."</p> + +<p>As there came surging in day by day bitter and cruel waves of war +news—stories of slaughter by land and sea, of massacre in simple +places, of savagery wrought on wounded men and prisoners in a +hydrophobia of hate let loose, it was ill lying awake in the dark +remembering loved beings surrounded by the worst of all the world has +ever known.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> Robin was afraid to look at the newspapers which her very +duties themselves obliged her to familiarise herself with, and she could +not close her ears. With battleship raids on harmless coast towns, +planned merely to the end of the wanton killing of such unconsidered +trifles of humanity as little children and women and men at their +every-day work, the circle of horror seemed to draw itself in closely.</p> + +<p>Zeppelin raids leaving fragments of bodies on pavements and broken +things under fallen walls, were not so near as the women who dragged +themselves back to their work with death in their faces written +large—the death of husband or son or lover. These brought realities +close indeed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how he died," one of them said to the Duchess. "I don't +know how long it took him to die. I don't want to be told. I am glad he +is dead. Yes, I am glad. I wish the other two were dead too. I'm not +splendid and heroic. I thought I was at first, but I couldn't keep it +up—after I heard about Mrs. Foster's boy. If I believed there was +anything to thank, I should say 'Thank God I have no more sons.'"</p> + +<p>That night Robin lay in the dark thinking of the dream. Had there been a +dream—or had it only been like the other things one dreamed about? +Sometimes an eerie fearfulness beset her vaguely. If there were letters +each day! But letters belonged to a time when rivers of blood did not +run through the world. She sat up in bed and clasped her hands round her +knees gazing into the blackness which seemed to enclose and shut her in. +It <i>had</i> been true! She could see the wood and the foxglove spires +piercing the ferns. She could hear the ferns rustle and the little bird +sounds and stirrings. And oh! she could hear Donal whispering. "Can you +hear my heart beat?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had said it over and over again. His heart seemed to be so big and to +beat so strongly. She had thought it was because he was so big and +marvellous himself. It had been rapture to lay her cheek and ear against +his breast and listen. Everything had been so still. They had been so +still—so still themselves for pure joy in their close, close nearness. +Yes, the dream had been true. But here she sat in the dark and +Donal—where was Donal? Where millions of men were marching, +marching—only to kill each other—thinking of nothing but killing. +Donal too. He must kill. If he were a brave soldier he must only think +of killing and not be afraid because at any moment he might be killed +too. She clutched her knees and shuddered, feeling her forehead grow +damp. Donal killing a man—perhaps a boy like himself—a boy who might +have a dream of his own! How would his blue eyes look while he was +killing a man? Oh! No! No! No! Not Donal!</p> + +<p>With her forehead still damp and her hands damp also she found herself +getting out of bed and walking up and down in the dark. She was wringing +her hands and sobbing. She must not think of things like these. She must +shut them out of her mind and think only of the dream. It had been +true—it had! And then the strange thought came to her that out of all +the world only he and she had known of their dreaming. And if he never +came back—! (Oh! please, God, let him come back!) no one need ever +know. It was their own, own dream and how could she bear to speak of it +to any one and why should she? He had said he wanted to have this one +thing of his very own before his life ended—if it was going to end. If +it ended it would be his sacred secret and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>rs forever. She might live +to be an old woman with white hair and no one would ever guess that +since the morning stars sang together they two had belonged to each +other.</p> + +<p>Night after night she lay awake with thoughts like these. Through the +waiting days she began to find an anguished comfort in the feeling that +she was keeping their secret for him and that no one need ever know. +More than once she went on quietly with her writing when people stood +near her and spoke of him and his regiment, which every one was +interested in because he was so handsome and so young and new to the +leading of men. There were rumours that he must have been plunged into +fierce fighting though definite news did not come through without delay.</p> + +<p>"Boys like that," she heard. "They ought to be kept at home. All the +greatest names will be extinct. And they are the splendid, silly ones +who expose themselves most. Young Lord Elphinstowe a week ago—the last +of his line! Scarcely a fragment of him to put together." There were +women who had a hysterical desire to talk about such things and make +gruesome pictures even of slightly founded stories. But when she heard +them she did not even lift her eyes from her work.</p> + +<p>One marked feature of their meetings—though they themselves had not +marked it—had been that they had never talked of the future. It had +been as though there were no future. To live perfectly through the few +hours—even for the one hour or half hour they could snatch—was all +that they could plan and hope for. Could they meet to-morrow in this +place or that? When they met were they quite safe and blissfully alone? +The spectre had always been waiting and they had always been try<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>ing to +forget it. Each meeting had seemed so brief and crowded and breathlessly +sweet.</p> + +<p>Only a boy and a girl could have so lost sight of all but their hour and +perhaps also only this boy and girl, because their hour had struck at a +time when all futures seemed to hold only chances that at any moment +might come to an end.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear my heart beat? There is no time—no time!" these two things +had been the beginning, the middle and the end.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Robin went and sat in the Gardens and one day in coming out +she met her mother whom she had not seen for months. Feather had been +exultingly gay and fashionably patriotic and she was walking round the +corner to a meeting to be held at her club. The khaki colouring of her +coat and brief skirt and cap added to their military air with pipings +and cords and a small upright feather of scarlet. She wore a badge and a +jewelled pin or so. She was about to pass Robin unrecognised but took a +second glance at her and stopped.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you," she exclaimed. "What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—thank you," Robin answered pausing.</p> + +<p>"Something <i>is</i>! You are losing your looks. Is your mistress working you +to death?"</p> + +<p>"The Duchess is very kind indeed. She is most careful that I don't do +too much. I like my work more every day."</p> + +<p>Feather took her in with a sharp scrutinising. She seemed to look her +over from her hat to her shoes before she broke into her queer little +critical laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't congratulate her on the result. You are thin. You've +lost your colour and your mouth is beginning to dr<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>ag at the corners." +And she nodded and marched away, the high heels of her beautiful small +brown boots striking the pavement with a military click.</p> + +<p>As she had dressed in the morning Robin had wondered if she was mistaken +in thinking that the awful nights had made her look different.</p> + +<p>If there had been letters to read—even a few lines such as are all a +soldier may write—to read over and over again, to hide in her breast +all day, to kiss and cry over and lay her cheek upon at night. Such a +small letter would have been such a huge comfort and would have made the +dream seem less far away. But everybody waited for letters—and waited +and waited. And sometimes they went astray or were lost forever and +people were left waiting.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p>But there were no letters. And she was obliged to sit at her desk in the +corner and listen to what people said about what was happening, and now +and then to Lord Coombe speaking in low tones to the Duchess of his +anxiety and uncertainty about Donal. Anxiety was increasing on every +side and such of the unthinking multitude as had at last ceased to +believe that one magnificent English blow would rid the earth of +Germany, had begun to lean towards belief in a vision of German millions +adding themselves each day to other millions advancing upon France, +Belgium, England itself, a grey encroaching mass rolling forward and +ever forward, overwhelming even neutral countries until not only Europe +but the whole world was covered, and the mailed fist beat its fragments +into such dust as it chose. Even those who had not lost their heads and +who knew more than the general public, wore grave faces because they +felt they knew too little and could not know more. Coombe's face was +hard and grey many days.</p> + +<p>"It seems as if one lost them in the flood sometimes," Robin heard him +say to the Duchess. "I saw his mother yesterday and could give her no +definite news. She believes that he is where the worst fighting is going +on. I could not tell her he was not."</p> + +<p>As, when they had been together, the two had not thought of any future, +so, now Robin was alone, she could not think of any to-morrow—perhaps +she would not. She lived only in the day which was passing. She rose, +dressed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>nd presented herself to the Duchess for orders; she did the +work given her to do, she saw the day gradually die and the lights +lighted; she worked as long as she was allowed to do so—and then the +day was over and she climbed the staircase to her room.</p> + +<p>Sometimes she sat and wrote letters to Donal—long yearning letters, but +when they were written she tore them into pieces or burned them. If they +were to keep their secret she could not send such letters because there +were so many chances that they would be lost. Still there was a hopeless +comfort in writing them, in pouring out what she would not have written +even if she had been sure that it would reach him safely. No girl who +loved a man who was at the Front would let him know that it seemed as if +her heart were slowly breaking. She must be brave—brave! But she was +not brave, that she knew. The news from the Front was worse every day; +there were more women with awful faces; some workers had dropped out and +came no more. One of them who had lost three sons in one battle had died +a few days after the news arrived because the shock had been too great +for her strength to endure. There were new phases of anguish on all +sides. She did all she was called on to do with a secret passion of +eagerness; each smallest detail was the sacred thing. She begged the +Duchess to allow her to visit and help the mothers of sons who were +fighting—or wounded or missing. That made her feel nearer to things she +wanted to feel near to. When they cried or told her stories, she could +understand. When she worked she might be doing things which might +somehow reach Donal or boys like Donal.</p> + +<p>Howsoever long her life was she knew one thing would never be blotted +out by time—the day she went down to Mersham <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>Wood to see Mrs. Bennett, +whose three grandsons had been killed within a few days of each other. +She had received the news in one telegram. There was no fairy wood any +longer, there were only bare branched trees standing holding out naked +arms to the greyness of the world. They looked as if they were +protesting against something. The grass and ferns were brown and sodden +with late rains and there were no hollyhocks and snapdragons in the +cottage garden—only on either side of the brick path dead brown stalks, +some of them broken by the wind. Things had not been neatly cut down and +burned and swept away. The grandsons had made the garden autumn-tidy +every year before this one.</p> + +<p>The old fairy woman sat on a clean print-covered arm chair by a very +small fire. She had a black print dress on and a black shawl and a black +ribbon round her cap. Her Bible lay on a little table near her but it +was closed.</p> + +<p>"Don't get up, please, Mrs. Bennett," Robin said when she lifted the +latch and entered.</p> + +<p>The old fairy woman looked at her in a dazed way.</p> + +<p>"I'm so eye-dimmed with crying that I can scarcely see," she said.</p> + +<p>Robin came to her and knelt down on the hearth.</p> + +<p>"I'm your lodger," she faltered, "who—who used to love the fairy wood +so."</p> + +<p>She had not known what she would say when she spoke first but she had +certainly not thought of saying anything like this. And she certainly +had not known that she would suddenly find herself overwhelmed by a +rising tidal wave of unbearable woe and drop her face on to the old +woman's lap with wild sobbing. She had not come down <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>from London to do +this—but away from the world—in the clean, still little cottage room +which seemed to hold only grief and silence and death the wave rose and +broke and swept her with it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bennett only gave herself up to the small clutching hands and sat +and shivered.</p> + +<p>"No one—will come in—will they?" Robin was gasping. "There is no one +to hear, is there?"</p> + +<p>"No one on earth," said the old fairy woman. "Quiet and loneliness are +left if there's naught else."</p> + +<p>What she thought it would be hard to say. The blow which had come to her +at the end of a long life had, as it were, felled her as a tree might +have been felled in Mersham Wood. As the tree might have lain for a +short time with its leaves still seeming alive on its branches so she +seemed living. But she had been severed from her root. She listened to +the girl's sobbing and stroked her hair.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid. There's no one left to hear but the walls and the bare +trees in the wood," she said.</p> + +<p>Robin sobbed on.</p> + +<p>"You've a kind heart, but you're not crying for me," she said next. +"You've a black trouble of your own. There's few that hasn't these days. +And it's worse for the young that's got to live through it and after it. +When Mary Ann comes to see after me to-morrow morning I may be lying +dead, thank God. But you're a child." The small clutching hands clutched +more piteously because it was so true—so true. Whatsoever befell there +were all the long, long years to come—with only the secret left and the +awful fear that sometime she might begin to be afraid that it was not a +real thing—since no one had ever known or ever would know and since sh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>e +could never speak of it or hear it spoken of.</p> + +<p>"I'm so afraid," she shuddered at last in a small low voice. "I'm so +<i>lonely</i>!" The old fairy woman's stroking hand stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Is there—anything—you'd like to tell me—anything in the world?" she +asked tremulously. "There's nothing I'd mind."</p> + +<p>The pretty head on her lap shook itself to and fro.</p> + +<p>"No! No! No! No!" the small choked voice gave out. "Nothing—nothing! +Nothing. That's why it's so lonely."</p> + +<p>As she had waited alone through the night in her cradle, as she had +watched the sparrows on the roofs above her in the nursery, as she had +played alone until Donal came, so it was her fate to be alone now.</p> + +<p>"But you came away from London because there were too many people there +and you wanted to be in a place where there was nothing but an empty +cottage and an old woman. Some would call it lonelier here."</p> + +<p>"The wood is here—the fairy wood!" she cried and her sobbing broke +forth tenfold more bitterly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bennett had seen in her day much of the troubles of others and many +of the things she had seen had been the troubles of women who were +young. Sometimes it had been possible to help them, sometimes it had +not, but in any case she had always known that help could be given only +if one asked careful questions. The old established rules with regard to +one's behaviour in connection with duchesses and their belongings had +strangely faded away since the severing of her root as all things on +earth had faded and lost consequence. She remembered no rules as she +bent her head over the g<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>irl and almost whispered to her.</p> + +<p>"I won't ask no questions after this one, Miss dear," she said quaking. +"But was there ever—a young gentleman—in the wood?"</p> + +<p>"No! No! No! No!" four times again Robin cried it. "Never! Never!" And +she lifted her face and let her see it white and streaming and with eyes +which desperately defied and as they defied implored for love and aid +and mercy.</p> + +<p>The old fairy woman's nutcracker mouth trembled. It mumbled pathetically +before she was able to control it. She knew she had heard this kind of +thing before though in cases with which great ladies had nothing +whatever to do. And at the same time there was something in this case +that was somehow different.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say or do," she faltered helplessly. "With the +world like this—we've got to try to comfort each other—and we don't +know how."</p> + +<p>"Let me come into your arms," said Robin like a child. "Hold me and let +me hold you." She crept near and folding soft arms about the old figure +laid her cheek against the black shawl. "Let us cry. There's nothing for +either of us to do but cry until our hearts break in two. We are all +alone and no one can hear us."</p> + +<p>"There's naught but the wood outside," moaned the old fairy woman.</p> + +<p>The voice against the shawl was a moan also.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the wood hears us—perhaps it hears. Oh! me! Oh! me!"</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>When she reached London she saw that there were excited groups of people +talking together in the streets. Among them were women who were crying, +or protesting angrily or comforting others. But she had seen the same +thing before and would not let herself look at people or hear anything +she could shut her ears against. Some new thing had happened, perhaps +the Germans had taken some important town and wreaked their vengeance on +the inhabitants, perhaps some new alarming move had been made and +disaster stared the Allies in the face. She staggered through the crowds +in the station and did not really know how she reached Eaton Square.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later she was sitting at her desk quiet and neat in her +house dress. She had told the Duchess all she could tell her of her +visit to old Mrs. Bennett.</p> + +<p>"We both cried a good deal," she explained when she saw her employer +look at her stained eyes. "She keeps remembering what they were like +when they were babies—how rosy and fat they were and how they learned +to walk and tumbled about on her little kitchen floor. And then how big +they grew and how fine they looked in their khaki. She says the worst +thing is wondering how they look now. I told her she mustn't wonder. She +mustn't think at all. She is quite well taken care of. A girl called +Mary Ann comes in three times a day to wait on her—and her daughter +comes when she can but her trouble has made her almost wander in her +mind. It's because they are <i>all</i> gone. When she comes in she forgets +everything and sits and says over and over again, 'If it had only been +Tom—or only Tom and Will—or if it had been Jem—or only Jem and +Tom—but it's Will—and Jem—and Tom,'—over and over again. I am not at +all sure I know how to comfort people. But she was glad I came."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<p>When Lord Coombe came in to make his daily visit he looked rigid +indeed—as if he were stiff and cold though it was not a cold night.</p> + +<p>He sat down by the Duchess and took a telegram from his pocket. Glancing +up at him, Robin was struck by a whiteness about his mouth. He did not +speak at once. It was as though even his lips were stiff.</p> + +<p>"It has come," he said at last. "Killed. A shell." The Duchess repeated +his words after him. Her lips seemed stiff also.</p> + +<p>"Killed. A shell."</p> + +<p>He handed the telegram to her. It was the customary officially +sympathetic announcement. She read it more than once. Her hands began to +tremble. But Coombe sat with face hidden. He was bowed like an old man.</p> + +<p>"A shell," he said slowly as if thinking the awful thing out. "That I +heard unofficially." Then he added a strange thing, dragging the words +out. "How could that—be blown to atoms?"</p> + +<p>The Duchess scarcely breathed her answer which was as strange as his +questioning.</p> + +<p>"Oh! How <i>could</i> it!"</p> + +<p>She put out her shaking hand and touched his sleeve, watching his face +as if something in it awed her.</p> + +<p>"You <i>loved</i> him?" She whispered it. But Robin heard.</p> + +<p>"I did not know I had loved anything—but I suppose that has been it. +His physical perfection attracted me at first—his extraordinary +contrast to Henry. It was mere pride in him as an heir and successor. +Afterwards it was a <i>beautiful</i> look his young blue eyes had. Beautiful +seems an unmasculine word for such a masculine lad, but no other word +expresses it. It was a sort of valiant brightness and joy in living and +being friends wi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>th the world. I saw it every time he came to talk to me. +I wished he were my son. I even tried to think of him as my son." He +uttered a curious low sound like a sudden groan, "My son has been +killed."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When he was about to leave the house and stood in the candle-lighted +hall he was thinking of many dark things which passed unformedly through +his mind and made him move slowly. He was slow in his movements as the +elderly maid servant assisted him to put on his overcoat, and he was as +slowly drawing on his gloves when his eyes—slow also—travelled up the +staircase and stopped at the first landing, where he seemed to see an +indefinite heap of something lying.</p> + +<p>"Am I mistaken or is—something—lying on the landing?" he said to the +woman.</p> + +<p>The fact that he was impelled to make the inquiry seemed to him part of +his abnormal state of mind. What affair of his after all were curiously +dropped bundles upon his hostess' staircase? But—</p> + +<p>"Please go and look at it," he added, and the woman gave him a troubled +look and went up the stairs.</p> + +<p>He himself was only a moment behind her. He actually found himself +following her as if he were guessing something. When the maid cried out, +he vaguely knew what he had been guessing.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" the woman gasped, bending down. "It's poor little Miss Lawless! +Oh, my lord," wildly after a nearer glance, "She looks as if she was +dead!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + +<p>"Now no one will ever know."</p> + +<p>Robin waking from long unconsciousness found her mind saying this before +consciousness which was clear had actually brought her back to the +world.</p> + +<p>"Now no one will ever know—ever."</p> + +<p>She seemed to have been away somewhere in the dark for a very long time. +She was too tired to try to remember what had happened before she began +to climb the staircase, which grew steeper and longer as she dragged +herself from step to step. But in the back of her mind there was one +particular fact she knew without trying to remember how she learned it. +A shell had fallen somewhere and when it had burst Donal was "blown to +atoms." How big were atoms—how small were they? Several times when she +reached this point she descended into the abyss of blackness and fainted +again, though people were doing things to her and trying to keep her +awake in ways which troubled her greatly. Why should they disturb her so +when sinking into blackness was better?</p> + +<p>"Now no one will ever know."</p> + +<p>She was lying in her bed in her own room. Some one had undressed her. It +was a nice room and very quiet and there was only a dim light burning. +It was a long time before she came back, after one of the descents into +the black abyss, and became slowly aware that Something was near her +bed. She did not actually see it because at first she could not have +lifted or turned her eyes. She c<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>ould only lie still. But she knew that +it was near her and she wished it were not. At last—by degrees it +ceased to be a mere <i>thing</i> and evolved into a person. It was a man who +was holding her wrist and watching her quietly and steadily—as if he +had been doing it for some time. No one else was in the room. The people +who had been disturbing her by doing things had gone away.</p> + +<p>"Now," she whispered dragging out word after word, "no one +will—ever—ever know." But she was not conscious she had said it even +in a whisper which could be heard. She thought the thing had only passed +again through her mind.</p> + +<p>"Donal! Blown—to—atoms," she said in the same way. "How small is—an +atom?" She was sinking into the blackness again when the man dropped her +wrist quickly and did something to her which brought her back.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she moaned. "Please—don't."</p> + +<p>But he would not let her go.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Perhaps days and nights passed—or perhaps only one day and night before +she found herself still lying in her bed but feeling somehow more awake +when she opened her eyes and found the same man sitting close to her +holding her wrist again.</p> + +<p>"I am Dr. Redcliff," he said in a quiet voice. "You are much better. I +want to ask you some questions. I will not tire you."</p> + +<p>He began to ask her questions very gently as if he did not wish to alarm +or disturb her. She had been found in a dead faint lying on the landing. +She had remained unconscious for an abnormally long time. When she had +been br<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>ought out of one faint she had fallen into another and this had +happened again and again. The indication was that she had been struck +down by some shock. In examining her he had found that she was +underweight. He wished to discover if she had been secretly working too +late at night in her deep interest in what she was doing. What exactly +had her diet been? Had she taken enough exercise in the open air? How +had she slept? The Duchess was seriously anxious.</p> + +<p>They were the questions doctors always asked people except that he +seemed more desirous of being sure of the amount of exercise she had +taken than about anything else. He was specially interested in the times +when she had been in the country. She was obliged to tell him she had +always been alone. He thought it would have been better if she had had +some companion. Once when he was asking her about her visits to Mrs. +Bennett's cottage the blackness almost engulfed her again. But he was +watching her very closely and perhaps seeing her turn white—gave her +some stimulant in time. He had a clever face which was not unkind, but +she wished that it had not had such a keenly watchful look. More than +once the watchfulness tired her and she closed her eyes because she did +not want him to look into them—as if he were asking questions which +were not altogether doctors' questions.</p> + +<p>When he left her and went downstairs to talk to the Duchess he asked a +good many quiet questions again. He was a man whose intense interest in +his profession did not confine itself wholly to its scientific aspect. +An extraordinarily beautiful child swooning into death was not a mere +pathological incident to him. And he knew many strange things brought +about by the abnormal conditions of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>war. He himself was conscious of +being overstrung with the rest of a tormented world.</p> + +<p>He knew of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless and he had heard more stories of her +household, her loveliness and Lord Coombe than he had time to remember. +He had, of course, heard the unsavoury rumours of the child who was +being brought up for some nefarious object. As he knew Lord Coombe +rather well he did not believe stories about him which went beyond a +certain limit. Not until he had talked to the Duchess for some time did +he discover that the hard-smitten child lying half-lifeless in her bed +was the very young heroine of the quite favourite scandal. The knowledge +gave him furiously to think. It was Coombe who had interested the +Duchess in her. The Duchess had no doubt taken her under her protection +for generously benign reasons. He pursued his questioning delicately.</p> + +<p>"Has she had any young friends? She seems to have taken her walks alone +and even to have gone into the country by herself."</p> + +<p>"The life of the young people in its ordinary sense of companionship and +amusement has been stopped by the War. There may be some who go on in +the old way but she has not been one of them," the Duchess said.</p> + +<p>"Visits to old women in remote country places are not stimulating +enough. Has she had <i>no</i> companions?"</p> + +<p>"I tried—" said the Duchess wearily. She was rather pale herself. "The +news of the Sarajevo tragedy arrived on the day I gave a small dance for +her—to bring some young people together." Her waxen pallor became even +more manifest. "How they danced!" she said woefully. "What living +things they were! Oh!" the exclam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>ation broke forth at a suddenly +overwhelming memory. "The beautiful boy—the splendid lad who was blown +to atoms—the news came only yesterday—was there dancing with the +rest!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Redcliff leaned forward slightly.</p> + +<p>"To hear that <i>any</i> boy has been blown to atoms is a hideous thing," he +said. "Who brought the news? Was Miss Lawless in the room when it was +brought?"</p> + +<p>"I think so though I am not sure. She comes in and goes out very +quietly. I am afraid I forgot everything else. The shock was a great +one. My old friend Lord Coombe brought the news. The boy would have +succeeded him. We hear again and again of great families becoming +extinct. The house of Coombe has not been prolific. The War has taken +its toll. Donal Muir was the last of them. One has felt as though it was +of great importance that—that a thing like that should be carried on." +She began to speak in a half-numbed introspective way. "What does it +matter really? Only one boy of thousands—perhaps hundreds of thousands +before it is over? But—but it's the youngness—the power—the potential +meaning—wasted—torn—scattered in fragments." She stopped and sat +quite still, gazing before her as though into space.</p> + +<p>"She is very young. She has been absorbed in war work and living in a +highly charged atmosphere for some time." Dr. Redcliff said presently, +"If she knew the poor lad—"</p> + +<p>"She did not really know him well, though they had met as children. They +danced together that night and sat and talked in the conservatory. But +she never saw him again," the Duchess explained.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> +<p>"It might have been too much, even if she did not know him well. We must +keep her quiet," said Dr. Redcliff.</p> + +<p>Very shortly afterwards he rose and went away.</p> + +<p>An hour later he was sitting in a room at Coombe House alone with Lord +Coombe. It was the room in which Mademoiselle Vallé had found his +lordship on the night of Robin's disappearance. No one knew now where +Mademoiselle was or if she were still alive. She had been living with +her old parents in a serene Belgian village which had been destroyed by +the Germans. Black tales had been told of which Robin had been allowed +to hear nothing. She had been protected in many ways.</p> + +<p>Though they had not been intimates the two men knew each other well. To +each individually the type of the other was one he could understand. It +was plain to Lord Coombe that Redcliff found his case of rather special +interest, which he felt was scarcely to be wondered at. As he himself +had seen the too slender prostrate figure and the bloodless small face +with its curtain of lashes lying too heavily close to the cold cheek, he +had realised that their helpless beauty alone was enough to arrest more +than ordinary attention. She had, as the woman had cried out, looked as +if she were dead, and dead loveliness is a reaching power.</p> + +<p>Dr. Redcliff spoke of her thoughtfully and with a certain gentleness. He +at first included her with many other girls, the changes in whose +methods of life he had been observing.</p> + +<p>"The closed gates in their paths are suddenly thrown open for them +because no one has to lock and unlock them," he said. "It produces +curious effects. The light-minded ones take advantage of the fact and +find dangerous amuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>ment in it sometimes. The serious ones go about the +work they have taken in hand. Miss Lawless is, I gather, one of the +thinking and feeling ones and has gone about a great deal."</p> + +<p>"Yes. The Duchess has tried to save her from her own ardour, but perhaps +she has worked too steadily."</p> + +<p>"Has the Duchess always known where she has gone and what people she has +seen?"</p> + +<p>"That would have been impossible. She wished her to feel free and if we +had not wished it, one can see that it would not have been possible to +stand guard over her. Neither was it necessary."</p> + +<p>But he began to listen with special attention. There awakened in his +mind the consciousness that he was being asked questions which suggested +an object. The next one added to his awakening sense of the thing.</p> + +<p>"Her exercise and holidays were always taken alone?" Redcliff said.</p> + +<p>"The Duchess believed so."</p> + +<p>"She has evidently been living under a poignant strain and some ghastly +shock has struck her down. I think she must have been in the room when +you brought the news of young Muir's terrible death."</p> + +<p>"She was," said Coombe. "I saw her and then forgot."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," Redcliff went on. "She cried out several times, 'Blown +to atoms—atoms! Donal!' She was not conscious of the cries."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure she said 'Donal'?" Coombe asked.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure. It was that which set me thinking. I have thought a great +deal. She has touched me horribly. The mere sight of her was enough. +There is desolation in her childlikeness."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> +<p>Lord Coombe sat extremely still. The room was very silent till Redcliff +went on in dropped voice.</p> + +<p>"There was another thing she said. She whispered it brokenly word by +word. She did not know that, either. She whispered, 'Now—no one—will +ever—know—ever.'"</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe still sat silent. What he was thinking could not be read in +his face but being a man of astute perception and used to the study of +faces Dr. Redcliff knew that suddenly some startling thought had leaped +within him.</p> + +<p>"You were right to come to me," he said. "What is it you—suspect?"</p> + +<p>That Dr. Redcliff was almost unbearably moved was manifest. He was not a +man of surface emotions but his face actually twitched and he hastily +gulped something down.</p> + +<p>"She is a heartbreakingly beautiful thing," he said. "She has been +left—through sheer kindness—in her own young hands. They were too +young—and these are hours of cataclysm. She knows nothing. She does not +know that—she will probably have a child."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p>The swiftness of the process by which the glowing little Miss Lawless, +at whom people had found themselves involuntarily looking so often, +changed from a rose of a girl into something strangely like a small +waxen image which walked, called forth frequent startled comment. She +was glanced at even oftener than ever.</p> + +<p>"Is she going into galloping consumption? Her little chin has grown +quite pointed and her eyes are actually frightening," was an early +observation. But girls who are going into galloping consumption cough +and look hectic and are weaker day by day and she had no cough, nor was +she hectic and, though it was known that Dr. Redcliff saw her +frequently, she insisted that she was not ill and begged the Duchess to +let her go on with her work.</p> + +<p>"But the <i>done-for</i> woe in her face is inexplicable—in a girl who has +had no love affairs and has not even known any one who could have +flirted with her and ridden away. The little thing's <i>done for</i>. It +cries out aloud. I can't bear to look at her," one woman protested.</p> + +<p>"I shall send her away if she does not improve," the Duchess said. "She +shall go to some remote place in the Highlands and she shall not be +allowed to remember that there is a war in the world. If I can manage to +send her old nurse Dowie with her she will stand guard over her like an +old shepherd."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<p>She also had been struck by the look which had been spoken of as +"done-for." Girls did not look like that for any common reason. She +asked herself questions and with great care sat on foot a gradual and +delicate cross-examination of Robin herself. But she discovered no +reason common or uncommon for the thing she recognised each time she +looked at her. It was inevitable that she should talk to Lord Coombe but +she met in him a sort of barrier. She could not avoid seeing that he was +preoccupied. She remotely felt that he was turning over in his mind +something which precluded the possibility of his giving attention to +other questions.</p> + +<p>"I almost feel as if your interest in her had lapsed," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"No. It has taken a—an entirely new form," was his answer.</p> + +<p>It was when his glance encountered hers after he said this that each +regarded the other with a slow growing anxiousness. Something came to +life in each pair of eyes and it was something disturbed and reluctant. +The Duchess spoke first.</p> + +<p>"She has had no companions," she said painfully. "The War put an end to +what I thought I might do for her. There has been <i>nobody</i>."</p> + +<p>"At present it is a curious fact that in one sense we know very little +of each other's lives," he answered. "The old leisurely habit of +observing details no longer exists. As Redcliff said in speaking of +her—and girls generally—all the gates are thrown wide open."</p> + +<p>The Duchess was very silent for a space before she made her reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> +<p>"You do not know her mother?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Two weeks ago she gave me something to reflect on. Her feeling for her +daughter is that of a pretty cat-like woman for something enragingly +younger than herself. She always resented her. She was infuriated by +your interest in her. She said to me one afternoon, 'I hope the Duchess +is still pleased with her companion. I saw her to-day in Bond Street and +she looked like a housemaid I once had to dismiss rather suddenly. I am +glad she is in her grace's house and not in mine.'"</p> + +<p>After a few seconds—</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> am glad she is in my house and not in hers," the Duchess said.</p> + +<p>"After I had spoken to her at some length and she had quite lost her +temper, she added 'You evidently don't know that she has been meeting +Donal Muir. He told me so himself at the Erwyn's. I asked him if he had +seen her since the dance and he owned that he had—and then was cross at +himself for making the slip. I did not ask him how <i>often</i> he had met +her. He would not have told me. But if he met her once he met her as +often as he chose.' She was not lying when she said it. I know her. I +have been thinking constantly ever since." There was a brief silence +between them; then he proceeded. "Robin worshipped him when she was a +mere baby. They were very beautiful together on the night of the dance. +She fainted on the stairway after hearing of his death. She had been +crawling up to hide herself in her room, poor child! It is one of the +tragedies. Perhaps you and I together—"</p> + +<p>The Duchess was seeing again the two who had come forth shining from +the conservatory. She continued to see them as Lo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>rd Coombe went on +speaking, telling her what Dr. Redcliff had told him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On her part Robin scarcely understood anything which was happening +because nothing seemed to matter. On the morning when the Duchess told +her that Dr. Redcliff wished to see her alone that fact mattered as +little as the rest. She was indifferently conscious that the Duchess +regarded her in an anxious kind way, but if she had been unkind instead +of kind that would have meant nothing. There was only room for one thing +in the world. She wondered sometimes if she were really dead—as Donal +was—and did not know she was so. Perhaps after people died they walked +about as she did and did not understand that others could not see them +and they were not alive. But if she were dead she would surely see +Donal.</p> + +<p>Before she went to Dr. Redcliff the Duchess took her hand and held it +closely in both her own. She looked at her with a curious sort of +pitifulness—as if she were sorry.</p> + +<p>"My poor child," she said. "Whatsoever he tells you don't be frightened. +Don't think you are without friends. I will take care of you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said. "I don't think anything would frighten me. +Nothing seems frightening—now." After which she went into the room +where Dr. Redcliff was waiting for her.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Duchess sat alone and thought deeply. What she thought of chiefly +was the Head of the House of Coombe. She had always known that more than +probably his attitude towards a circumstance of this sort would not +even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> remotely approach in likeness that of other people. His point of +view would detach itself from ordinary theories of moralities and +immoralities. He would see with singular clearness all sides of the +incident. He would not be indignant, or annoyed or embarrassed. He had +had an interest in Robin as a creature representing peculiar loveliness +and undefended potentialities. Sometimes she had felt that this had even +verged on a tenderness of which he was himself remotely, if at all, +conscious. Concerning the boy Donal she had realised that he felt +something stronger and deeper than any words of his own had at any time +expressed. He had believed fine things of him and had watched him +silently. He had wished he had been his own flesh and blood. Perhaps he +had always felt a longing for a son who might have been his companion as +well as his successor. Who knew whether a thwarted paternal instinct +might not now be giving him such thinking to do as he might have done if +Donal Muir had been the son of his body—dead on the battlefield but +leaving behind him something to be gravely considered? What would a man +think—what would a man <i>do</i> under such circumstances?</p> + +<p>"One might imagine what some men would do—but it would depend entirely +upon the type," she thought. "What he will do will be different. It +might seem cold; it might be merely judicial—but it might be +surprising."</p> + +<p>She was quite haunted by the haggard look of his face as he had +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I wish to God I had known him better! I wish to God I had talked to him +more!"</p> + +<p>What he had done this morning was to go to Mersham Wood to see Mrs. +Bennett. There were things it might be possible to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> learn by amiable and +carefully considered expression of interest in her loss and loneliness. +Concerning such things as she did not already know she would learn +nothing from his conversation, but concerning such things as she had +become aware of he would learn everything without alarming her.</p> + +<p>"If those unhappy children met at her cottage and wandered about in +Mersham Wood together the tragedy is understandable."</p> + +<p>The Duchess' thinking ended pityingly because just at this time it was +that Robin opened the door and stood looking at her.</p> + +<p>It seemed as though Dr. Redcliff must have talked to her for a long +time. But she had on her small hat and coat and what the Duchess seemed +chiefly to see was the wide darkness of her eyes set in a face suddenly +pinched, small and snow white. She looked like a starved baby.</p> + +<p>"Please," she said with her hands clasped against her chest, +"please—may I go to Mersham Wood?"</p> + +<p>"To—Mersham Wood," the Duchess felt aghast—and then suddenly a flood +of thought rushed upon her.</p> + +<p>"It is not very far," the little gasping voice uttered. "I must go, +please! Oh! I must! Just—to Mersham Wood!"</p> + +<p>Something almost uncontrollable rose in the Duchess' throat.</p> + +<p>"Child," she said. "Come here!"</p> + +<p>Robin went to her—oh, poor little soul!—in utter obedience. As she +drew close to her she went down upon her knees holding up her hands like +a little nun at prayer.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> +<p>"<i>Please</i> let me go," she said again. "Only to Mersham Wood."</p> + +<p>"Stay here, my poor child and talk to me," the Duchess said. "The time +has come when you must talk to some one."</p> + +<p>"When I come back—I will try. I—I want to ask—the Wood," said Robin. +She caught at a fold of the Duchess' dress and went on rapidly.</p> + +<p>"It is not far. Dr. Redcliff said I might go. Mrs. Bennett is there. She +loves me."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to talk to Mrs. Bennett?"</p> + +<p>"No! No! No! No! Not to any one in the world."</p> + +<p>Hapless young creatures in her plight must always be touching, but her +touchingness was indescribable—almost unendurable to the ripe aged +woman of the world who watched and heard her. It was as if she knew +nothing of the meaning of things—as if some little spirit had been torn +from heaven and flung down upon the dark earth. One felt that one must +weep aloud over the exquisite incomprehensible remoteness of her. And it +was so awfully plain that there was some tragic connection with the Wood +and that her whole soul cried out to it. And she would not speak to any +one in the world. Such things had been known. Was the child's brain +wavering? Why not? All the world was mad was the older woman's thought, +and she herself after all the years, had for this moment no sense of +balance and felt as if all old reasons for things had been swept away.</p> + +<p>"If you will come back," she said. "I will let you go."</p> + +<p>After the poor child had gone there formulated itself in her mind the +thought that if Lord Coombe and Mrs. Bennett met her together some +clarity might be reached. But then a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>gain she said to herself, "Oh why, +after all, should she be asked questions? What can it matter to the rest +of the woeful world if she hides it forever in her heart?"</p> + +<p>And she sat with drooped head knowing that she was tired of living +because some things were so helpless.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p>The Wood was gradually growing darker. It had been almost brilliant +during a part of the afternoon because the bareness of the branches let +in the wintry sun. There were no leaves to keep it out and there had +been a rare, chill blue sky. All seemed cold blue sky where it was not +brown or sodden yellow fern and moss. The trunks of the trees looked +stark and the tall, slender white stems of the birches stood out here +and there among the darker growth like ghosts who were sentinels. It was +always a silent place and now its stillness seemed even added to by the +one sound which broke it—the sound of sobbing—sobbing—sobbing.</p> + +<p>It had been going on for some time. There had stolen through the narrow +trodden pathway a dark slight figure and this had dropped upon the +ground under a large tree which was one of a group whose branches had +made a few months ago a canopy of green where birds had built nests and +where one nightingale had sung night after night to the moon.</p> + +<p>Later—Robin had said to herself—she would go to the cottage, and she +would sit upon the hearth and lay her head on Mrs. Bennett's knee and +they would cling together and sob and talk of the battlefields and the +boys lying dead there. But she had no thought of saying any other thing +to her, because there was nothing left to say. She had said nothing to +Dr. Redcliff; she had only sat listening to him and feeling her eyes +widening as she tried to follow and understand what he was saying in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +such a grave, low-toned cautious way—as if he himself were almost +afraid as he went on. What he said would once have been strange and +wonderful, but now it was not, because wonder had gone out of the world. +She only seemed to sit stunned before the feeling that now the dream was +not a sacred secret any longer and there grew within her, as she heard, +a wild longing to fly to the Wood as if it were a living human thing who +would hear her and understand—as if it would be like arms enclosing +her. Something would be there listening and she could talk to it and ask +it what to do.</p> + +<p>She had spoken to it as she staggered down the path—she had cried out +to it with wild broken words, and then when she heard nothing she had +fallen down upon the earth and the sobbing—sobbing—had begun.</p> + +<p>"Donal!" she said. "Donal!" And again, "Donal!" over and over. But +nothing answered, for even that which had been Donal—with the heavenly +laugh and the blue in his gay eyes and the fine, long smooth hands—had +been blown to fragments in a field somewhere—and there was nothing +anywhere.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>She had heard no footsteps and she was sobbing still when a voice spoke +at her side—the voice of some one standing near.</p> + +<p>"It is Donal you want, poor child—no one else," it said.</p> + +<p>That it should be this voice—Lord Coombe's! And that amazing as it was +to hear it, she was not amazed and did not care! Her sobbing ceased so +far as sobbing can cease on full flow. She lay still but for low +shuddering bre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>aths.</p> + +<p>"I have come because it is Donal," he said. "You told me once that you +had always hated me. Hatred is useless now. Don't feel it."</p> + +<p>But she did not answer.</p> + +<p>"You probably will not believe anything I say. Well I must speak to you +whether you believe me or not."</p> + +<p>She lay still and he himself was silent. His voice seemed to be a sudden +thing when he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I loved him too. I found it out the morning I saw him march away."</p> + +<p>He had seen him! Since she had looked at his beautiful face this man had +looked at it!</p> + +<p>"You!" She sat up on the earth and gazed, swaying. So he knew he could +go on.</p> + +<p>"I wanted a son. I once lay on the moss in a wood and sobbed as you have +sobbed. <i>She</i> was killed too."</p> + +<p>But Robin was thinking only of Donal.</p> + +<p>"What—was his face like? Did you—see him near?"</p> + +<p>"Quite near. I stood on the street. I followed. He did not see me. He +saw nothing."</p> + +<p>The sobbing broke forth again.</p> + +<p>"Did—did his eyes look as if he had been crying? He did cry—he did!"</p> + +<p>The Head of the House of Coombe showed no muscular facial sign of +emotion and stood stiffly still. But what was this which leaped scalding +to his glazed eyes and felt hot?</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered huskily. "I saw—even as he marched past—that his +eyes were heavy and had circles round them. There were other eyes like +his—some were boys' eyes and some were the eyes of men. They held +their hea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>ds up—but they had all said 'Good-bye'—as he had."</p> + +<p>The Wood echoed to a sound which was a heart-wrung wail and she dropped +forward on the moss again and lay there.</p> + +<p>"He said, 'Oh, let us cry—together—together! Oh little—lovely love'!"</p> + +<p>She who would have borne torment rather than betray the secret of the +dream, now that it could no longer be a secret lay reft of all but +memories and the wild longing to hold to her breast some shred which was +her own. He let her wail, but when her wailing ceased helplessly he bent +over her.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me," he said. "If Donal were here he would tell you to +listen. You are a child. You are too young to know what has come upon +you—both."</p> + +<p>She did not speak.</p> + +<p>"You were both too young—and you were driven by fate. If he had been +more than a boy—and if he had not been in a frenzy—he would have +remembered. He would have thought—"</p> + +<p>Yes—yes! She knew how young! But oh, what mattered youth—or +thought—or remembering! Her small hand beat in soft impatience on the +ground.</p> + +<p>He was—strangely—on one knee beside her, his head bent close, and in +his voice there was a new strong insistence—as if he would not let her +alone— Oh! Donal! Donal!</p> + +<p>"He would have remembered—that he might leave a child!"</p> + +<p>His voice was almost hard. She did not know that in his mind was a +memory which now in secret broke him—a memory of a belief which was a +thing he had held as a gift—a certa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>in faith in a clear young highness +and strength of body and soul in this one scion of his house, which even +in youth's madness would have <i>remembered</i>. If the lad had been his own +son he might have felt something of the same pang.</p> + +<p>His words brought back what she had heard Redcliff say to her earlier in +the day—the thing which had only struck her again to the earth.</p> + +<p>"It—will have—no father," she shuddered. "There is not even a grave."</p> + +<p>He put his hand on her shoulder—he even tried to force her to lift her +head.</p> + +<p>"It <i>must</i> have a father," he said, harshly. "Look at me. It <i>must</i>."</p> + +<p>Stupefied and lost to all things as she was, she heard something in his +harshness she could not understand and was startled by. Her small +starved face stared at him piteously. There was no one but herself left +in the world.</p> + +<p>"There is no time—" he broke forth.</p> + +<p>"He said so too," she cried out. "There was no time!"</p> + +<p>"But he should have remembered," the harsh voice revealed more than he +knew. "He could have given his child all that life holds that men call +happiness. How could even a lad forget! He loved you—you loved him. If +he had married you—"</p> + +<p>He stopped in the midst of the words. The little starved face stared at +him with a kind of awfulness of woe. She spoke as if she scarcely knew +the words she uttered, and not, he saw, in the least as if she were +defending herself—or as if she cared whether he believed her or not—or +as if it mattered.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> +<p>"Did you—think we were—not married?" the words dragged out.</p> + +<p>Something turned over in his side. He had heard it said that hearts did +such things. It turned—because she did not care. She knew what love and +death were—what they <i>were</i>—not merely what they were called—and life +and shame and loss meant nothing.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you are saying?" he heard the harshness of his voice +break. "For God's sake, child, let me hear the truth."</p> + +<p>She did not even care then and only put her childish elbows on her knees +and her face in her hands and wept and wept.</p> + +<p>"There was—no time," she said. "Every day he said it. He knew—he +<i>knew</i>. Before he was killed he wanted <i>something</i> that was his own. It +was our secret. I wanted to keep it his secret till I died."</p> + +<p>"Where," he spoke low and tensely, "were you married?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. It was a little house in a poor crowded street. Donal +took me. Suddenly we were frightened because we thought he was to go +away in three days. A young chaplain who was going away too was his +friend. He had just been married himself. He did it because he was sorry +for us. There was no time. His wife lent me a ring. They were young too +and they were sorry."</p> + +<p>"What was the man's name?"</p> + +<p>"I can't remember. I was trembling all the time. I knew nothing. That +was like a dream too. It was all a dream."</p> + +<p>"You do not remember?" he persisted. "You were married—and have no +proof."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<p>"We came away so quickly. Donal held me in his arm in the cab because I +trembled. Donal knew. Donal knew everything."</p> + +<p>He was a man who had lived through tragedy but that had been long ago. +Since then he had only known the things of the world. He had seen +struggles and tricks and paltry craftiness. He had known of women caught +in traps of folly and passion and weakness and had learned how terror +taught them to lie and shift and even show abnormal cleverness. Above +all he knew exactly what the world would say if a poor wretch of a girl +told a story like this of a youngster like Donal—when he was no longer +on earth to refute it.</p> + +<p>And yet if these wild things were true, here in a wintry wood she sat a +desolate and undefended thing—with but one thought. And in that which +was most remote in his being he was conscious that he was for the moment +relieved because even worldly wisdom was not strong enough to overcome +his desire to believe in a certain thing which was—that the boy would +have played fair even when his brain whirled and all his fierce youth +beset him.</p> + +<p>As he regarded her he saw that it would be difficult to reach her mind +which was so torn and stunned. But by some method he must reach it.</p> + +<p>"You must answer all the questions I ask," he said. "It is for Donal's +sake."</p> + +<p>She did not lift her face and made no protest.</p> + +<p>He began to ask such questions as a sane man would know must be answered +clearly and as he heard her reply to each he gradually reached the +realisation of what her empty-handed, naked helplessness confronted. +That he himself comprehended what no outsider would, was due to his +memories of heart-wrung hours, of days and nights when he too had been +unable to think quite sanely or t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>o reason with a normal brain. Youth is +a remorseless master. He could see the tempest of it all—the hours of +heaven—and the glimpses of hell's self—on whose brink the two had +stood clinging breast to breast. With subtle carefulness he slowly +gleaned it all. He followed the rising of the tide which at first had +borne them along unquestioning. They had not even asked where they were +going because the way led through young paradise. Then terror had +awakened them. There had come to them the news of death day after +day—lads they knew and had seen laughing a few weeks before—Halwyn, +Meredith, Jack or Harry or Phil. A false rumour of a sudden order to the +Front and they had stood and gazed into each other's eyes in a fateful +hour. Robin did not know of the picture her disjointed, sobbed-forth +sentences and words made clear. Coombe could see the lad as he stood +before her in this very Wood and then went slowly down upon his knees +and kissed her small feet in the moss as he made his prayer. There had +been something rarely beautiful in the ecstasy of his tenderness—and +she had given herself as a flower gives itself to be gathered. She +seemed to have seen nothing, noted nothing, on the morning of the mad +marriage, but Donal, who held her trembling in his arms as they drove +through the crowded streets in the shabby neighbourhood she had never +seen before, to the house crowded between others all like itself. She +had actually not heard the young chaplain's name in her shyness and +tremor. He would scarcely have been an entity but for the one moving +fact that he himself had just hastily married a girl he adored and must +leave, and so sympathised and understood the stress of their hour. On +their way home they had been afraid of chance recognition an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>d had tried +to shield themselves by sitting as far back as possible in the cab.</p> + +<p>"I could not think. I could not see. It was all frightening—and +unreal."</p> + +<p>She had not dreamed of asking questions. Donal had taken care of her and +tried to help her to be less afraid of seeing people who might recognise +her. She had tilted her hat over her face and worn a veil. She had gone +home to Eaton Square—and then in the afternoon to the cottage at +Mersham Wood.</p> + +<p>They had not written letters to each other. Robin had been afraid and +they had met almost every day. Once Lord Coombe thought himself on the +track of some clue when she touched vaguely on some paper Donal had +meant to send her and had perhaps forgotten in the haste and pressure of +the last few hours because his orders had been so sudden. But there was +no trace. There had been something he wished her to have. But if this +had meant that his brain had by chance cleared to sane reasoning and he +had, for a few moments touched earth and intended to send her some proof +which would be protection if she needed it—the moment had been too late +and, at the last, action had proved impossible. And Death had come so +soon. It was as though a tornado had swept him out of her arms and +dashed him broken to earth. And she was left with nothing because she +asked nothing—wanted nothing.</p> + +<p>The obviousness of this, when he had ended his questioning and exhausted +his resources, was a staggering thing.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said grimly, after it was all over, "—that no one +will believe you?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<p>"Donal knew," she said. "There is no one—no one else."</p> + +<p>"You mean that there is no one whose belief or disbelief would affect +you?"</p> + +<p>The Wood was growing darker still and she had ceased crying and sat +still like a small ghost in the dim light.</p> + +<p>"There never <i>was</i> any one but Donal, you know," she said. To all the +rest of the world she was as a creature utterly unawake and to a man who +was of the world and who had lived a long life in it the contemplation +of her was a strange and baffling thing.</p> + +<p>"You do not ask whether <i>I</i> believe you?" he spoke quite low.</p> + +<p>The silence of the darkening wood was unearthly and her dropped word +scarcely stirred it.</p> + +<p>"<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: The original text had "No,"">No.</ins>" She had never even thought of it.</p> + +<p>He himself was inwardly shaken by his own feeling.</p> + +<p>"I will believe you if—you will believe me," was what he said, a +singular sharp new desire impelling him.</p> + +<p>She merely lifted her face a little so that her eyes rested upon him.</p> + +<p>"Because of this tragic thing you must believe me. It will be necessary +that you should. What you have thought of me with regard to your mother +is not true. You believed it because the world did. Denial on my part +would merely have called forth laughter. Why not? When a man who has +money and power takes charge of a pretty, penniless woman and pays her +bills, the pose of Joseph or Galahad is not a good one for him. My +statement would no more have been believed than yours will be believed +if you can produce no proof. What you say is what any girl might say in +your dilemma, what I should have said would have been what any man +migh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>t have said. But—I believe you. Do you believe <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>She did not understand why suddenly—though languidly—she knew that he +was telling her a thing which was true. It was no longer of consequence +but she knew it. And if it was true all she had hated him for so long +had been founded on nothing. He had not been bad—he had only <i>looked</i> +bad and that he could not help. But what did that matter, either? She +could not feel even sorry.</p> + +<p>"I will—try," she answered.</p> + +<p>It was no use as yet, he saw. What he was trying to deal with was in a +new Dimension.</p> + +<p>He held out his hands and helped her to her feet.</p> + +<p>"The Wood is growing very dark," he said. "We must go. I will take you +to Mrs. Bennett's and you can spend the night with her."</p> + +<p>The Wood was growing dark indeed. He was obliged to guide her through +the closeness of the undergrowth. They threaded their way along the +narrow path and the shadows seemed to close in behind them. Before they +reached the end which would have led them out into the open he put his +hand on her shoulder and held her back.</p> + +<p>"In this Wood—even now—there is Something which must be saved from +suffering. It is helpless—it is blameless. It is not you—it is not +Donal. God help it."</p> + +<p>He spoke steadily but strangely and his voice was so low that it was +almost a whisper—though it was not one. For the first time she felt +something stir in her stunned mind—as if thought were wakening—fear—a +vague quaking. Her wan small face began to wonder and in the dark +roundness of her eyes a question was to be seen like a d<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>rowned thing +slowly rising from the deeps of a pool. But she asked no question. She +only waited a few moments and let him look at her until she said at last +in a voice as near a whisper as his own.</p> + +<p>"I—will believe you."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p>He was alone with the Duchess. The doors were closed, and the world shut +out by her own order. She leaned against the high back of her chair, +watching him intently as she listened. He walked slowly up and down the +room with long paces. He had been doing it for some time and he had told +her from beginning to end the singular story of what had happened when +he found Robin lying face downward on the moss in Mersham Wood.</p> + +<p>This is what he was saying in a low, steady voice.</p> + +<p>"She had not once thought of what most women would have thought of +before anything else. If I were speaking to another person than yourself +I should say that she was too ignorant of the world. To you I will say +that she is not merely a girl—she is the unearthly luckless embodiment +of the pure spirit of Love. She knew only worship and the rapt giving of +gifts. Her unearthliness made him forget earth himself. Folly and +madness of course! Incredible madness—it would seem to most people—a +decently intelligent lad losing his head wholly and not regaining his +senses until it was too late to act sanely. But perhaps not quite +incredible to you and me. There must have been days which seemed to +him—and lads like him—like the last hours of a condemned man. In the +midst of love and terror and the agony of farewells—what time was there +for sanity?"</p> + +<p>"You <i>believe</i> her?" the Duchess said.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes," impersonally. "In spite of the world, the flesh and the devil. I +also know that no one else will. To most people her story will seem a +thing trumped up out of a fourth rate novel. The law will not listen to +it. You will—when you see her unawakened face."</p> + +<p>"I have seen it," was the Duchess' interpolation. "I saw it when she +went upon her knees and prayed that I would let her go to Mersham Wood. +There was something inexplicable in her remoteness from fear and shame. +She was only woe's self. I did not comprehend. I was merely a baffled +old woman of the world. Now I begin to see. I believe her as you do. The +world and the law will laugh at us because we have none of the accepted +reasons for our belief. But I believe her as you do—absurd as it will +seem to others."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will seem absurd," Coombe said slowly pacing. "But here she +is—and here <i>we</i> are!"</p> + +<p>"What do you see before us?" she asked of his deep thought.</p> + +<p>"I see a helpless girl in a dark plight. As far as knowledge of how to +defend herself goes, she is as powerless as a child fresh from a +nursery. She lives among people with observing eyes already noting the +change in her piteous face. Her place in your house makes her a centre +of attention. The observation of her beauty and happiness has been +good-natured so far. The observation will continue, but in time its +character will change. I see that before anything else."</p> + +<p>"It is the first thing to be considered," she answered.</p> + +<p>"The next—" she paused and thought seriously, "is her mother. Perhaps +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless has sharp eyes. She said to you something rather +vulgarly hideous about being glad her daughter was in my house and not +in hers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Her last words to Robin were to warn her not to come to her for refuge +'if she got herself into a mess.' She is in what Mrs. Gareth-Lawless +would call 'a mess.'"</p> + +<p>"It is what a good many people would call it," the Duchess said. "And +she does not even know that her tragedy would express itself in a mere +vulgar colloquialism with a modern snigger in it. Presently, poor child, +when she awakens a little more she will begin to go about looking like a +little saint. Do you see that—as I do?"</p> + +<p>She thought he did and that he was moved by it though he did not say so.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking first of her mother. Mrs. Gareth-Lawless must see and +hear nothing. She is not a criminal or malignant creature, but her light +malice is capable of playing flimsily with any atrocity. She has not +brain enough to know that she can be atrocious. Robin can be protected +only if she is shut out of the whole affair. She was simply speaking the +truth when she warned the girl not to come to her in case of need."</p> + +<p>"For a little longer I can keep her here," the Duchess said. "As she +looks ill it will not be unnatural that the doctor should advise me to +send her away from London. It is not possible to remember anything long +in the life we live now. She will be forgotten in a week. That part of +it will be simple."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "Yes."</p> + +<p>He paced the length of the room twice—three times and said nothing. She +watched him as he walked and she knew he was going to say more. She also +wondered what curious thing it might be. She had said to herself that +what he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>said and did would be entirely detached from ordinary or archaic +views. Also she had guessed that it might be extraordinary—perhaps as +extraordinary as his long intimacy with Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. Was there a +possibility that he was going to express himself now?</p> + +<p>"But that is not all," he said at last and he ended his pondering walk +by coming nearer to her. He sat down and touched the newspapers lying on +the table.</p> + +<p>"You have been poring over these," he said, "and I have been doing the +same thing. I have also been talking to the people who know things and +to those who ought to know them but don't. Just now the news is worse +each day. In the midst of the roar and thunder of cataclysms to talk +about a mere girl 'in trouble' appears disproportionate. But because our +world seems crumbling to pieces about us she assumes proportions of her +own. I was born of the old obstinate passions of belief in certain +established things and in their way they have had their will of me. +Lately it has forced itself upon me that I am not as modern as I have +professed to be. The new life has gripped me, but the old has not let me +go. There are things I cannot bear to see lost forever without a +struggle."</p> + +<p>"Such as—" she said it very low.</p> + +<p>"I conceal things from myself," he answered, "but they rise and confront +me. There were days when we at least believed—quite obstinately—in a +number of things."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes quite heroically," she admitted. "'God Save the Queen' in its +long day had actual glow and passion. I have thrilled and glowed myself +at the shouting song of it."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes," he drew a little nearer to her and his cold face gained a slight +colour. "In those days when a son—or a grandson—was born to the head +of a house it was a serious and impressive affair."</p> + +<p>"Yes." And he knew she at once recalled her own son—and George in +Flanders.</p> + +<p>"It meant new generations, and generations counted for decent dignity as +well as power. A farmer would say with huge pride, 'Me and mine have +worked the place for four generations,' as he would say of the owner of +the land, 'Him and his have held it for six centuries.' Centuries and +generations are in danger of no longer inspiring special reverence. It +is the future and the things to be which count."</p> + +<p>"The things to be—yes," the Duchess said and knew that he was drawing +near the thing he had to say.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I was born a dogged sort of devil," he went on almost in a +monotone. "The fact did not manifest itself to me until I came to the +time when—all the rest of me dropped into a bottomless gulf. That +perhaps describes it. I found myself suddenly standing on the edge of +it. And youth, and future, and belief in the use of hoping and real +enjoyment of things dropped into the blackness and were gone while I +looked on. If I had not been born a dogged devil I should have blown my +brains out. If I had been born gentler or kinder or more patient I +should perhaps have lived it down and found there was something left. A +man's way of facing things depends upon the kind of thing he was born. I +went on living <i>without</i>—the rest of myself. I closed my mouth and not +only my mouth but my life—as far as other men and women were concerned. +When I found an interest stirring in me I shut another door—that was +all. Whatsoever went on did it behind a s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>hut door."</p> + +<p>"But there were things which went on?" the Duchess gently suggested.</p> + +<p>"In a hidden way—yes. That is what I am coming to. When I first saw +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless sitting under her tree—" He suddenly stopped. "No," +harshly, "I need not put it into words to <i>you</i>." Then a pause as if for +breath. "She had a way of lifting her eyes as a very young angel +might—she had a quivering spirit of a smile—and soft, deep curled +corners to her mouth. You saw the same things in the old photograph you +bought. The likeness was—Oh! it was hellish that such a resemblance +could be! In less than half an hour after she spoke to me I had shut +another door. But I was obliged to go and <i>look</i> at her again and again. +The resemblance drew me. By the time her husband died I knew her well +enough to be sure what would happen. Some man would pick her up and +throw her aside—and then some one else. She could have held nothing +long. She would have passed from one hand to another until she was +tossed into the gutter and swept away—quivering spirit of a smile and +all of it. I could not have shut any door on that. I prevented it—and +kept her clean—by shutting doors right and left. I have watched over +her. At times it has bored me frightfully. But after a year or +so—behind another door I had shut the child."</p> + +<p>"Robin? I had sometimes thought so," said the Duchess.</p> + +<p>"I did not know why exactly. It was not affection or attraction. It was +a sort of resentment of the beastly unfairness of things. The bottomless +gulf seemed to yawn in her path when she was nothing but a baby. +Everything was being tossed into it before she had taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> a step. I began +to keep an eye on her and prevent things—or assist them. It was more +fury than benevolence, but it has gone on for years—behind the shut +door."</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure you have been entirely free from all affection for +her?" The Duchess asked the question impersonally though with a degree +of interest.</p> + +<p>"I think so. I am less sure that I have the power to feel what is called +'affection' for any one. I think that I have felt something nearer it +for Donal—and for you—than for any one else. But when the child talked +to me in the wood I felt for the first time that I wished her to know +that my relation to her mother was not the reason for her hating me +which she had believed."</p> + +<p>"She shall be made to understand," said the Duchess.</p> + +<p>"She must," he said, "<i>because of the rest</i>."</p> + +<p>The last four words were, as it were, italicised. Now, she felt, she was +probably about to hear the chief thing he had been approaching. So she +waited attentively.</p> + +<p>"Behind a door has been shut another thing," he said and he endeavoured +to say it with his usual detached rigidity of calm, but did not wholly +succeed. "It is the outcome of the generations and the centuries at +present diminishing in value and dignity. The past having had its will +of me and the present and future having gripped me—if I had had a +son—"</p> + +<p>As if in a flash she saw as he lingered on the words that he was +speaking of a thing of which he had secretly thought often and much, +though he had allowed no human being to suspect it. She had not +suspected it herself. In a secretive, intense way he had passionately +desired a son.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> +<p>"If you had had a son—" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"He would have stood for both—the past and the future—at the beginning +of a New World," he ended.</p> + +<p>He said it with such deliberate meaning that the magnitude of his +possible significance caused her to draw a sudden breath.</p> + +<p>"Is it going to be a New World?" she said.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be the old one. I don't take it upon myself to describe the +kind of world it will be. That will depend upon the men and women who +build it. Those who were born during the last few years—those who are +about to be born now."</p> + +<p>Then she knew what he was thinking of.</p> + +<p>"Donal's child will be one of them," she said.</p> + +<p>"The Head of the House of Coombe—if there is a Head who starts +fair—ought to have quite a lot to say—and do. Howsoever black things +look," obstinately fierce, "England is not done for. At the worst no +real Englishman believes she can be. She <i>can't</i>! You know the old +saying, 'In all wars England loses battles, but she always wins one—the +last one.' She always will. Afterwards she must do her bit for the New +World."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + + +<p>This then was it—the New World and the human creatures who were to +build it, the unborn as well as those now in their cradles or tottering +in their first step on the pathway leading to the place of building. Yet +he himself had no thought of there being any touch of heroic splendour +in his way of looking at it. He was not capable of drama. Behind his +shut doors of immovability and stiff coldness, behind his cynic habit of +treating all things with detached lightness, the generations and the +centuries had continued their work in spite of his modernity. His +British obstinacy would not relinquish the long past he and his had +seemed to <i>own</i> in representing it. He had loved one woman, and one +only—with a love like a deep wound; he had longed for a son; he had +stubbornly undertaken to protect a creature he felt life had treated +unfairly. The shattering of the old world had stirred in him a powerful +interest in the future of the new one whose foundations were yet to be +laid. The combination of these things might lead to curious +developments.</p> + +<p>They sat and talked long and the developments were perhaps more unusual +than she had imagined they might be.</p> + +<p>"If I had been able to express the something which approached affection +which I felt for Donal, he would have found out that my limitations were +not deliberately evil proclivities," was one of the things he said. +"One day he would have ended by making a clean breast of it. He was +afra<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>id of me. I suspect he was afraid of his mother—fond as they were +of each other. I should have taken the matter in hand and married the +pair of them at once—quietly if they preferred it, but safely and +sanely. God knows I should have comprehended their wish to keep a +roaring world out of their paradise. It <i>was</i> paradise!"</p> + +<p>"How you believe her!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"She is not a trivial thing, neither was he. If I did <i>not</i> believe her +I should know that he <i>meant</i> to marry her, even if fate played them +some ghastly trick and there was not time. Another girl's consciousness +of herself might have saved her, but she had no consciousness but his. +If—if a son is born he should be what his father would have been after +my death."</p> + +<p>"The Head of the House," the Duchess said.</p> + +<p>"It is a curious thing," he deliberated, "that now there remains no +possible head but what is left of myself—it ceases to seem the mere +pompous phrase one laughed at—the Head of the House of Coombe. Here I, +of all men, sit before you glaring into the empty future and demanding +one. There ought to have been more males in the family. Only four were +killed—and we are done for."</p> + +<p>"If you had seen them married before he went away—" she began.</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet as if involuntarily. He looked as she had never seen +him look before.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to make a fantastic confession to you," he said. "It will open +doors. If all were as the law foolishly demands it should be—if she +were safe in the ordinary way—absurdly incredible or not as the +statement may seem—I should now be at her feet."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<p>"At her feet!" she said slowly, because she felt herself facing actual +revelation.</p> + +<p>"Her child would be to me the child of the son who ought to have been +born to me a life time ago. God, how I have wanted him! Robin would seem +to be what another Madonna-like young creature might have been if she +had been my wife. She would not know that she was a little saint on an +altar. She would be the shrine of the past and the future. In my +inexpressive way I should be worshipping before her. That her possible +son would rescue the House of Coombe from extinction would have meant +much, but it would be a mere detail. Now you understand."</p> + +<p>Yes. She understood. Things she had never comprehended and had not +expected to comprehend explained themselves with comparative clearness. +He proceeded with a certain hard distinctness.</p> + +<p>"The thing which grips me most strongly is that this one—who is one of +those who have work before them—shall not be handicapped. He shall not +begin life manacled and shamed by illegitimacy. He shall begin it with +the background of all his father meant to give him. The law of England +will not believe in his claims unless they can be proven. She can prove +nothing. I can prove nothing for her. If she had been a little female +costermonger she would have demanded her 'marriage lines' and clung to +them fiercely. She would have known that to be able to flaunt them in +the face of argument was indispensable."</p> + +<p>"She probably did not know that there existed such documents," the +Duchess said. "Neither of the pair knew anything for the time but that +they were wild with love and were to be torn apart."</p> + +<p>"Therefore," he said with distinctness even clearer and harder, "she +must possess indisputable documentary evidence of m<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>arriage before the +child is born—as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"Marriage!" she hesitated aghast. "But <i>who</i> will—?"</p> + +<p>"I," he answered with absolute rigidity. "It will be difficult. It must +be secret. But if it can be done—when his time comes the child can look +his new world in the face. He will be the Head of the House of Coombe +when it most needs a strong fellow who has no cause to fear anything and +who holds money and power in his hands."</p> + +<p>"You propose to suggest that she shall marry <i>you</i>?" she put it to him.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It will be the devil's own job," he answered. "She has not begun +to think of the child yet—and she has abhorred me all her life. To her +the world means nothing. She does not know what it can do to her and she +would not care if she did. Donal was her world and he is gone. But you +and I know what she does not."</p> + +<p>"So this is what you have been thinking?" she said. It was indeed an +unarchaic point of view. But even as she heard him she realised that it +was the almost inevitable outcome—not only of what was at the moment +happening to the threatened and threatening world, but of his singularly +secretive past—of all the things he had hidden and also of all the +things he had professed not to hide but had baffled people with.</p> + +<p>"Since the morning Redcliff dropped his bomb I have not been able to +think of much else," he said. "It was a bomb, I own. Neither you nor I +had reason for a shadow of suspicion. My mind has a trick of dragging +back to me a memory of a village girl who was left as—as she is. She +said her lover had married her—but he went away and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>never came back. +The village she lived in was a few miles from Coombe Keep and she gave +birth to a boy. His childhood must have been a sort of hell. When other +boys had rows with him they used to shout 'Bastard' after him in the +street. He had a shifty, sickened look and when he died of measles at +seven years old no doubt he was glad of it. He used to run crying to his +wretched mother and hide his miserable head in her apron."</p> + +<p>"It sounds unendurable," the Duchess said sharply.</p> + +<p>"I can defy the world as she cannot," he said with dangerous calm. "I +can provide money for her. She may be hidden away. But only one thing +will save her child—Donal's child—from being a sort of outcast and +losing all he should possess—a quick and quiet marriage which will put +all doubt out of the question."</p> + +<p>"And you know perfectly well what the general opinion will be with +regard to yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Damned well. A debauched old degenerate marrying the daughter of his +mistress because her eighteen years attracts his vicious decrepitude. My +absolute indifference to that, may I say, can not easily be formulated. +<i>She</i> shall be spared as much as possible. The thing can be kept secret +for years. She can live in entire seclusion. No one need be told until I +am dead—or until it is necessary for the boy's sake. By that time +perhaps changes in opinion will have taken place. But now—as is the cry +of the hour—there is no time. She said that Donal said it too." He +stood still for a few moments and looked at the floor. "But as I said," +he terminated, "it will be the devil's own job. When I first speak to +her about it—she will almost be driven mad."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + + +<p>Robin had spent the night at the cottage and Mrs. Bennett had been very +good to her. They had sat by the fire together for a long time and had +talked of the dead boys on the battlefield, while Robin's head had +rested against the old fairy woman's knee and the shrivelled hand had +stroked and patted her tremulously. It had been nearing dawn when the +girl went to bed and at the last Mrs. Bennett had held on to her dress +and asked her a pleading question.</p> + +<p>"Isn't there anything you'd like me to do for you—anything on earth, +Miss, dear? Sometimes there's things an old woman can do that young ones +can't. If there was anything you'd like to tell me about—that I could +keep private—? It'd be as safe with me as if I was a dumb woman. And it +might just happen that—me being so old—I might be a help some way." +She was giving her her chance, as in the course of her long life she had +given it to other poor girls she loved less. One had to make ways and +open gates for them.</p> + +<p>But Robin only kissed her as lovingly as a child.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what is going to happen to me," she said. "I can't think +yet. I may want to ask you to let me come here—if—if I am frightened +and don't know what to do. I know you would let me come and—talk to +you—?"</p> + +<p>The old fairy woman almost clutched her in enfolding arms. Her answer +was a hoarse and trembling whisper.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> +<p>"You come to me, my poor pretty," she said. "You come to me day or +night—<i>whatsoever</i>. I'm not so old but what I can do anything—you want +done."</p> + +<p>The railroad journey back to London seemed unnaturally long because her +brain began to work when she found herself half blindly gazing at the +country swiftly flying past the carriage window. Perhaps the anxiousness +in Mrs. Bennett's face had wakened thought in connecting itself with +Lord Coombe's words and looks in the wood.</p> + +<p>When the door of the house in Eaton Square opened for her she was +conscious of shrinking from the sympathetic eyes of the war-substituted +woman-servant who was the one who had found her lying on the landing. +She knew that her face was white and that her eyelids were stained and +heavy and that the woman saw them and was sorry for her.</p> + +<p>The mountain climb of the stairs seemed long and steep but she reached +her room at last and took off her hat and coat and put on her house +dress. She did it automatically as if she were going downstairs to her +work, as though there had been no break in the order of her living.</p> + +<p>But as she was fastening the little hooks and buttons her stunned brain +went on with the thought to which it had begun to awaken in the train. +Since the hour when she had fallen unconscious on the landing she had +not seemed to think at all. She had only <i>felt</i> things which had nothing +to do with the real world.</p> + +<p>There was a fire in the grate and when the last button was fastened she +sat down on a seat before it and looked into the redness of the coals, +her hands loosely clasped on her knee. She sat there for several minutes +and then she turned her head and looked slowly round the room. She did +it because she was impelled by a sense of its emptiness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>—by the fact +that she was quite alone in it. There was only herself—only Robin in +it.</p> + +<p>That was her first feeling—the aloneness—and then she thought of +something else. She seemed to feel again the hand of Lord Coombe on her +shoulder when he held her back in the darkened wood and she could hear +his almost whispered words.</p> + +<p>"In this Wood—even now—there is Something which must be saved from +suffering. It is helpless—it is blameless. It is not you—it is not +Donal—God help it."</p> + +<p>Then she was not alone—even as she sat in the emptiness of the room. +She put up her hands and covered her face with them.</p> + +<p>"What—will happen?" she murmured. But she did not cry.</p> + +<p>The deadliness of the blow which had stupefied her still left her barely +conscious of earthly significances. But something of the dark mistiness +was beginning to lift slowly and reveal to her vague shadows and shapes, +as it were. If no one would believe that she was married to Donal, then +people would think that she had been the kind of girl who is sent away +from decent houses, if she is a servant, and cut off in awful disgrace +from her family and never spoken to again, if she belongs to the upper +classes. Books and Benevolent Societies speak of her as "fallen" and +"lost." Her vision of such things was at once vague and primitive. It +took the form of pathetic fictional figures or memories of some hushed +rumour heard by mere chance, rather than of anything more realistic. She +dropped her hands upon her lap and looked at the fire again.</p> + +<p>"Now I shall be like that," she said listlessly. "And it does not +matter. Donal knew. And I do not care—I do not care.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>"</p> + +<p>"The Duchess will send me away," she whispered next. "Perhaps she will +send me away to-day. Where shall I go!" The hands on her lap began to +tremble and she suddenly felt cold in spite of the fire. The sound of a +knock on the door made her start to her feet. The woman who had looked +sorry for her when she came in had brought a message.</p> + +<p>"Her grace wishes to see you, Miss," she said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Robin answered.</p> + +<p>After the servant had gone away she stood still a moment or so.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is going to tell me now," she said to the empty room.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Two aspects of her face rose before the Duchess as the girl entered the +room where she waited for her with Lord Coombe. One was that which had +met her glance when Mademoiselle Vallé had brought her charge on her +first visit. She recalled her impression of the childlikeness which +seemed all the dark dew of appealing eyes, which were like a young doe's +or a bird's rather than a girl's. The other was the star-like radiance +of joy which had swept down the ballroom in Donal's arms with dancing +whirls and swayings and pretty swoops. About them had laughed and +swirled the boys now lying dead under the heavy earth of Flemish fields. +And Donal—!</p> + +<p>This face looked small and almost thin and younger than ever. The eyes +were like those of a doe who was lost and frightened—as if it heard +quite near it the baying of hounds, but knew it could not get away.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> +<p>She hesitated a moment at the door.</p> + +<p>"Come here, my dear," the Duchess said.</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe stood by a chair he had evidently placed for her, but she +did not sit down when she reached it. She hesitated again and looked +from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"Did you send for me to tell me I must go away?" she said.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, child?" said the Duchess.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," Lord Coombe said and spoke in an undertone rapidly. "She +thinks you mean to turn her out of the house as if she were a +kitchen-maid."</p> + +<p>Robin sat down with her listless small hands clasped in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Nothing matters at all," she said, "but I don't know what to do."</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal to do," the Duchess said to her and she did not +speak as if she were angry. Her expression was not an angry one. She +looked as if she were wondering at something and the wondering was +almost tender.</p> + +<p>"We know what to do. But it must be done without delay," said Lord +Coombe and his voice reminded her of Mersham Wood.</p> + +<p>"Come nearer to me. Come quite close. I want—" the Duchess did not +explain what she wanted but she pointed to a small square ottoman which +would place Robin almost at her knee. Her own early training had been of +the statelier Victorian type and it was not easy for her to deal freely +with outward expression of emotion. And here emotion sprang at her +throat, so to speak, as she watched this childish thing with the +frightened doe's eyes. The girl had been an inmate of her house for +months; she had been kind to her and had become fo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>nd of her, but they +had never reached even the borders of intimacy.</p> + +<p>And yet emotion had seized upon her and they were in the midst of +strange and powerful drama.</p> + +<p>Robin did as she was told. It struck the Duchess that she always did as +she was told and she spoke to her hoping that her voice was not +ungentle.</p> + +<p>"Don't look at me as if you were afraid. We are going to take care of +you," she said.</p> + +<p>But the doe's eyes were still great with hopeless fearfulness.</p> + +<p>"Lord Coombe said—that no one would believe me," Robin faltered. "He +thought I was not married to Donal. But I was—I was. I <i>wanted</i> to be +married to him. I wanted to do everything he wanted me to do. We loved +each other so much. And we were afraid every one would be angry. And so +many were killed every day—and before he was killed—Oh!" with a sharp +little cry, "I am glad—I am glad! Whatever happens to me I am <i>glad</i> I +was married to him before he was killed!"</p> + +<p>"You poor children!" broke from the Duchess. "You poor—poor mad young +things!" and she put an arm about Robin because the barrier built by +lack of intimacy was wholly overthrown.</p> + +<p>Robin trembled all over and looked up in her face.</p> + +<p>"I may begin to cry," she quavered. "I do not want to trouble you by +beginning to cry. I must not."</p> + +<p>"Cry if you want to cry," the Duchess answered.</p> + +<p>"It will be better," said Lord Coombe, "if you can keep calm. It is +necessary that you should be calm enough to think—and understand. Will +you try? It is for Donal's sake."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> +<p>"I will try," she answered, but her amazed eyes still yearningly +wondered at the Duchess. Her arm had felt almost like Dowie's.</p> + +<p>"Which of us shall begin to explain to her?" the Duchess questioned.</p> + +<p>"Will you? It may be better."</p> + +<p>They were going to take care of her. She was not to be turned into the +street—though perhaps if she were turned into the street without money +she would die somewhere—and that would not matter because she would be +thankful.</p> + +<p>The Duchess took one of her hands and held it on her knee. She looked +kind still but she was grave.</p> + +<p>"Do not be frightened when I tell you that most people will <i>not</i> +believe what you say about your marriage," she said. "That is because it +is too much like the stories other girls have told when they were in +trouble. It is an easy story to tell when a man is dead. And in Donal's +case so much is involved that the law would demand proofs which could +not be denied. Donal not only owned the estate of Braemarnie, but he +would have been the next Marquis of Coombe. You have not remembered this +and—" more slowly and with a certain watchful care—"you have been too +unhappy and ill—you have not had time to realise that if Donal has a +son—"</p> + +<p>She heard Robin's caught breath.</p> + +<p>"What his father would have inherited he would inherit also. Braemarnie +would be his and in his turn he would be the Marquis of Coombe. It is +because of these important things that it would be said that it would be +immensely to your interest to insist that you were married to Donal Muir +and the law would not allow of any shade of doubt."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<p>"People would think I wanted the money and the castles—for myself?" +Robin said blankly.</p> + +<p>"They would think that if you were a dishonest woman—you wanted all you +could get. Even if you were not actually dishonest they would see you +would want it for your son. You might think it ought to be his—whether +his father had married you or not. Most women love their children."</p> + +<p>Robin sat very still. The stunned brain was slowly working for itself.</p> + +<p>"A child whose mother seems bad—is very lonely," she said.</p> + +<p>"It is not likely to have many friends."</p> + +<p>"It seems to belong to no one. It <i>must</i> be unhappy. If—Donal's mother +had not been married—even he would have been unhappy."</p> + +<p>No one made any reply.</p> + +<p>"If he had been poor it would have made it even worse. If he had +belonged to nobody and had been poor too—! How could he have borne it!"</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe took the matter up gently, as it were removing it from the +Duchess' hands.</p> + +<p>"But he had everything he wished for from his birth," he said. "He was +always happy. I like to remember the look in his eyes. Thank God for +it!"</p> + +<p>"That beautiful look!" she cried. "That beautiful laughing look—as if +all the world were joyful!"</p> + +<p>"Thank God for it," Coombe said again. "I once knew a wretched village +boy who had no legal father though his mother swore she had been +married. His eyes looked like a hunted ferret's. It was through being +shamed and flouted and bullied. The village lads used to shout 'Bastard' +after him."</p> + +<p>It was then that the baying of the hounds suddenly seemed at hand. The +large eyes quailed before the stark emptiness of t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>he space they gazed +into.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do—what shall I do?" Robin said and having said it she +did not know that she turned to Lord Coombe.</p> + +<p>"You must try to do what we tell you to do—even if you do not wish to +do it," he said. "It shall be made as little difficult for you as is +possible."</p> + +<p>The expression of the Duchess as she looked on and heard was a changing +one because her mind included so many aspects of the singular situation. +She had thought it not unlikely that he would do something unusual. +Could anything much more unusual have been provided than that a man, who +had absolute splendour of rank and wealth to offer, should for strange +reasons of his own use the tact of courts and the fine astuteness of +diplomatists in preparing the way to offer marriage to a penniless, +friendless and disgraced young "companion" in what is known as +"trouble"? It was because he was himself that he understood what he was +dealing with—that splendour and safety would hold no lure, that +protection from disgrace counted as nothing, that only one thing had +existence and meaning for her. And even as this passed through her mind, +Robin's answer repeated it.</p> + +<p>"I will do it whether it is difficult or not," she said, "but—" she +actually got up from her ottoman with a quiet soft movement and stood +before them—not a defiant young figure, only simple and elementally +sweet— "I am not ashamed," she said. "I am not ashamed and <i>I</i> do not +matter at all."</p> + +<p>There was that instant written upon Coombe's face—so far at least as +his old friend was concerned—his response to the significance of this. +It was the elemental thing which that which moved him required; it was +what the generati<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>ons and centuries of the house of Coombe required—a +primitive creature unashamed and with no cowardice or weak vanity +lurking in its being. The Duchess recognised it in the brief moment of +almost breathless silence which followed.</p> + +<p>"You are very splendid, child," he said after it, "though you are not at +all conscious of it."</p> + +<p>"Sit down again." The Duchess put out a hand which drew Robin still +nearer to her. "Explain to her now," she said.</p> + +<p>Robin's light soft body rested against her when it obeyed. It responded +to more than the mere touch of her hand; its yielding was to something +which promised kindness and even comfort—that something which Dowie and +Mademoiselle had given in those days which now seemed to have belonged +to another world. But though she leaned against the Duchess' knee she +still lifted her eyes to Lord Coombe.</p> + +<p>"This is what I must ask you to listen to," he said. "We believe what +you have told us but we know that no one else will—without legal proof. +We also know that some form may have been neglected because all was done +in haste and ignorance of formalities. You can give no clue—the +ordinary methods of investigation are in confusion as the whole country +is. This is what remains for us to face. <i>You</i> are not ashamed, but if +you cannot prove legal marriage Donal's son will know bitter +humiliation; he will be robbed of all he should possess—his life will +be ruined. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered without moving her eyes from his face. She seemed to +him again as he stood before her in the upper room of Lady Etynge's +house when, in his clear aloof voice, he had told her that he had come +to save her. He had saved her then, but now it was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>t she who needed +saving.</p> + +<p>"There is only one man who can give Donal's child what his father would +have given him," he went on.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am the man," he answered, and he stood quite still.</p> + +<p>"How—can you do it?" she asked again.</p> + +<p>"I can marry you," his clear, aloof voice replied.</p> + +<p>"You!—You!—You!" she only breathed it out—but it was a cry.</p> + +<p>Then he held up his hand as if to calm her.</p> + +<p>"I told you in the wood that hatred was useless now and that your reason +for hating me had no foundation. I know how you will abhor what I +suggest. But it will not be as bad as it seems. You need not even endure +the ignominy of being known as the Marchioness of Coombe. But when I am +dead Donal's son will be my successor. It will not be held against him +that I married his beautiful young mother and chose to keep the matter a +secret. I have long been known as a peculiar person given to arranging +my affairs according to my own liking. The Head of the House of +Coombe"—with an ironic twitch of the mouth—"will have the law on his +side and will not be asked for explanations. A romantic story will add +to public interest in him. If your child is a daughter she will be +protected. She will not be lonely, she will have friends. She will have +all the chances of happiness a girl naturally longs for—all of them. +Because you are her mother."</p> + +<p>Robin rose and stood before him as involuntarily as she had risen +before, but now she looked different. Her hands were wrung together and +she was the blanched embodiment of terror<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>. She remembered things +Fräulein Hirsh had said.</p> + +<p>"I could not marry you—if I were to be killed because I didn't," was +all she could say. Because marriage had meant only Donal and the dream, +and being saved from the world this one man had represented to her girl +mind.</p> + +<p>"You say that because you have no doubt heard that it has been rumoured +that I have a depraved old man's fancy for you and that I have always +hoped to marry you. That is as false as the other story I denied. I am +not in love with you even in an antediluvian way. You would not marry me +for your own sake. That goes without saying. But I will repeat what I +said in the Wood when you told me you would believe me. There is +Something—not you—not Donal—to be saved from suffering."</p> + +<p>"That is true," the Duchess said and put out her hand as before. "And +there is something longer drawn out and more miserable than mere +dying—a dreary outcast sort of life. We know more about such things +than you do."</p> + +<p>"You may better comprehend my action if I add a purely selfish reason +for it," Coombe went on. "I will give you one. I do not wish to be the +last Marquis of Coombe."</p> + +<p>He took from the table a piece of paper. He had actually made notes upon +it.</p> + +<p>"Do not be alarmed by this formality," he said. "I wish to spare words. +If you consent to the performance of a private ceremony you will not be +required to see me again unless you yourself request it. I have a quiet +place in a remote part of Scotland where you can live with Dowie to tak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>e +care of you. Dowie can be trusted and will understand what I tell her. +You will be safe. You will be left alone. You will be known as a young +widow. There are young widows everywhere."</p> + +<p>Her eyes had not for a moment left his. By the time he had ended they +looked immense in her thin and white small face. Her old horror of him +had been founded on a false belief in things which had not existed, but +a feeling which has lasted almost a lifetime has formed for itself an +atmosphere from whose influence it is not easy to escape. And he stood +now before her looking as he had always looked when she had felt him to +be the finely finished embodiment of evil. But—</p> + +<p>"You are—doing it—for Donal," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"You yourself would be doing it for Donal," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And—I do not matter."</p> + +<p>"Donal's wife and the mother of Donal's boy or girl matters very much," +he gave back to her. He did not alter the impassive aloofness of his +manner, knowing that it was better not to do so. An astute nerve +specialist might have used the same method with a patient.</p> + +<p>There was a moment or so of silence in which the immense eyes gazed +before her almost <i>through</i> him—piteously.</p> + +<p>"I will do anything I am told to do," she said at last. After she had +said it she turned and looked at the Duchess.</p> + +<p>The Duchess held out both her hands. They were held so far apart that it +seemed almost as if they were her arms. Robin swept towards the broad +footstool but reaching it she pushed it aside and knelt down laying her +face upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> silken lap sobbing soft and low.</p> + +<p>"All the world is covered with dead—beautiful boys!" her sobbing said. +"All alone and dead—dead!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + + +<p>No immediate change was made in her life during the days that followed. +She sat at her desk, writing letters, referring to notes and lists and +answering questions as sweetly and faithfully as she had always done +from the first. She tried to remember every detail and she also tried to +keep before her mind that she must not let people guess that she was +thinking of other things—or rather trying not to think of them. It was +as though she stood guard over a dark background of thought, of which +others must know nothing. It was a background which belonged to herself +and which would always be there. Sometimes when she lifted her eyes she +found the Duchess looking at her and then she realised that the Duchess +knew it was there too.</p> + +<p>She began to notice that almost everybody looked at her in a kindly +slightly troubled way. Very important matrons and busy excited girls who +ran in and out on errands had the same order of rather evasive glance.</p> + +<p>"You have no cough, my dear, have you?" more than one amiable grand lady +asked her.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you—none at all," Robin answered and she was nearly always +patted on the shoulder as her questioner left her.</p> + +<p>Kathryn sitting by her desk one morning, watching her as she wrote a +note, suddenly put her hand out and stopped her.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<p>"Let me look at your wrist, Robin," she said and she took it between her +fingers.</p> + +<p>"Oh! What a little wrist!" she exclaimed. "I—I am sure Grandmamma has +not seen it. Grandmamma—" aloud to the Duchess, "<i>Have</i> you seen +Robin's wrist? It looks as if it would snap in two."</p> + +<p>There were only three or four people in the room and they were all +intimates and looked interested.</p> + +<p>"It is only that I am a little thin," said Robin. "Everybody is thinner +than usual. It is nothing."</p> + +<p>The Duchess' kind look somehow took in those about her in her answer.</p> + +<p>"You are too thin, my dear," she said. "I must tell you frankly, +Kathryn, that you will be called upon to take her place. I am going to +send her away into the wilds. The War only ceases for people who are +sent into wild places. Dr. Redcliff is quite fixed in that opinion. +People who need taking care of must be literally hidden away in corners +where war vibrations cannot reach them. He has sent Emily Clare away and +even her friends do not know where she is."</p> + +<p>Later in the day Lady Lothwell came and in the course of a few minutes +drew near to her mother and sat by her chair rather closely. She spoke +in a lowered voice.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad, mamma darling, that you are going to send poor little +Miss Lawless into retreat for a rest cure," she began. "It's so tactless +to continually chivy people about their health, but I own that I can +scarcely resist saying to the child every time I see her, 'Are you any +better today?' or, 'Have you any cough?' or, 'How is your appetite?' I +have not wanted to trouble you about her but the truth is we all find +ourselves talking her over. The point of her chin is growing actually +sharp. What is Mrs. Gareth-Lawless doing?" curtly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Giving dinners and bridge parties to officers on leave. Robin never +sees her."</p> + +<p>"Of course the woman does not want her about. She is too lovely for +officers' bridge parties," rather sharply again.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Gareth-Lawless is not the person one would naturally turn to for +sympathy in trouble. Illness would present itself to her mind as a sort +of outrage." The Duchess herself spoke in a low tone and her eyes +wandered for a moment or so to the corner where Robin sat among her +papers.</p> + +<p>"She is a sensitive child," she said, "and I have not wanted to alarm +her by telling her she must give up the work her heart is in. I have +seen for some time that she must have an entire holiday and that she +must leave London behind her utterly for a while. Dr. Redcliff knows of +the right remote sort of place for her. It is really quite settled. She +will do as I advise her. She is very obedient."</p> + +<p>"Mamma," murmured Lady Lothwell who was furtively regarding Robin +also—and it must be confessed with a dewy eye—"I suppose it is because +I have Kathryn—but I feel a sort of pull at my heart when I remember +how the little thing <i>bloomed</i> only a few months ago! She was radiant +with life and joy and youngness. It's the contrast that almost frightens +one. Something has actually gone. Does Doctor Redcliff think—<i>Could</i> +she be going to die? Somehow," with a tremulous breath, "one always +thinks of death now."</p> + +<p>"No! No!" the Duchess answered. "Dr. Redcliff says she is not in real +danger. Nourishment and relaxed strain and quiet will supply what she +needs. But I will ask you, Millicent, to explain to people. I am too +tired <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>to answer questions. I realise that I have actually begun to love +the child and I don't want to hear amiable people continuously +suggesting the probability that she is in galloping consumption—and +proposing remedies."</p> + +<p>"Will she go soon?" Lady Lothwell asked.</p> + +<p>"As soon as Dr. Redcliff has decided between two heavenly little +places—one in Scotland and one in Wales. Perhaps next week or a week +later. Things must be prepared for her comfort."</p> + +<p>Lady Lothwell went home and talked a little to Kathryn who listened with +sympathetic intelligence.</p> + +<p>"It would have been better not to have noticed her poor little wrists," +she said. "Years ago I believe that telling people that they looked ill +and asking anxiously about their symptoms was regarded as a form of +affection and politeness, but it isn't done at all now."</p> + +<p>"I know, mamma!" Kathryn returned remorsefully. "But somehow there was +something so pathetic in her little thin hand writing so fast—and the +way her eyelashes lay on a sort of hollow of shadow instead of a soft +cheek— I took it in suddenly all at once— And I almost burst out +crying without intending to do it. Oh, mamma!" throwing out her hand to +clutch her mother's, "Since—since George—! I seem to cry so suddenly! +Don't—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes!" as they slipped into each other's arms. "We all +do—everybody—everybody!"</p> + +<p>Their weeping was not loud but soft. Kathryn's girl voice had a low +violin-string wail in it and was infinitely touching in its innocent +love and pity.</p> + +<p>"It's because one feels as if it <i>couldn't</i> be true—as if he <i>must</i> be +somewhere! George—good nice George. So good looking and happy and +silly and dear! And we played and fo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>ught together when we were children. +Oh! To <i>kill</i> George—George!"</p> + +<p>When they sat upright again with wet eyes and faces Kathryn added,</p> + +<p>"And he was only <i>one</i>! And that beautiful Donal Muir who danced with +Robin at Grandmamma's party! And people actually <i>stared</i> at them, they +looked so happy and beautiful." She paused and thought a moment. "Do you +know, mamma, I couldn't help believing he would fall in love with her if +he saw her often—and I wondered what Lord Coombe would think. But he +never did see her again. And now—! You know what they said about—not +even <i>finding</i> him!"</p> + +<p>"It is better that they did not meet again. If they had it would be easy +to understand why the poor girl looks so ill."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm glad for her that it isn't that. That would have been much +worse. Being sent away to quiet places to rest might have been no good."</p> + +<p>"But even as it is, mamma is more anxious I am sure than she likes to +own to herself. You and I must manage to convey to people that it is +better not even to verge on making fussy inquiries. Mamma has too many +burdens on her mind to be as calm as she used to be."</p> + +<p>It was an entirely uncomplicated situation. It became understood that +the Duchess had become much attached to her companion as a result of her +sweet faithfulness to her work. She and Dr. Redcliff had taken her in +charge and prepared for her comfort and well-being in the most complete +manner. A few months would probably end in a complete recovery. There +were really no special questions even for the curious to ask and no one +was curious. There was no time for curiosity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> So Robin disappeared from +her place at the small desk in the corner of the Duchess' sitting room +and Kathryn took her place and used her pen.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + + +<p>In the front window of one of the row of little flat-faced brick houses +on a narrow street in Manchester, Dowie sat holding Henrietta's new baby +upon her lap. They were what is known as "weekly" houses, their rent +being paid by the week and they were very small. There was a parlour +about the size of a compartment in a workbox, there was a still smaller +room behind it which was called a dining room and there was a diminutive +kitchen in which all the meals were eaten unless there was "company to +tea" which in these days was almost unknown. Dowie had felt it very +small when she first came to it from the fine spaces and heights of the +house in Eaton Square and found it seemingly full of very small children +and a hysterically weeping girl awaiting the impending arrival of one +who would be smaller than the rest.</p> + +<p>"You'll never stay here," said Henrietta, crying and clutching the +untidy half-buttoned front of her blouse. "You come straight from +duchesses and grandeur and you don't know how people like us live. How +can you stand us and our dirt, Aunt Sarah Ann?"</p> + +<p>"There needn't be dirt, Henrietta, my girl," said Dowie with quite +uncritical courage. "There wouldn't be if you were yourself, poor lass. +I'm not a duchess, you know. I've only been a respectable servant. And +I'm going to see you through your trouble."</p> + +<p>Her sober, kindly capableness evolved from the slovenly little house and +the untended children, from the dusty rooms and neglected kitchen the +kind of order and neatness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>which had been plain to see in Robin's more +fortune-favoured apartment. The children became as fresh and neat as +Robin's nursery self. They wore clean pinafores and began to behave +tidily at table.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how you do it, Aunt Sarah Ann," sighed Henrietta. But she +washed her blouse and put buttons on it.</p> + +<p>"It's just seeing things and picking up and giving a touch here and +there," said Dowie. She bought little comforts almost every day and +Henrietta was cheered by cups of hot tea in the afternoon and found +herself helping to prepare decent meals and sitting down to them with +appetite before a clean tablecloth. She began to look better and +recovered her pleasure in sitting at the front window to watch the +people passing by and notice how many new black dresses and bonnets went +to church each Sunday.</p> + +<p>When the new baby was born there was neither turmoil nor terror.</p> + +<p>"Somehow it was different from the other times. It seemed sort of +natural," Henrietta said. "And it's so quiet to lie like this in a +comfortable clean bed, with everything in its place and nothing upset in +the room. And a bright bit of fire in the grate—and a tidy, swept-up +hearth—and the baby breathing so soft in his flannels."</p> + +<p>She was a pretty thing and quite unfit to take care of herself even if +she had had no children. Dowie knew that she was not beset by +sentimental views of life and that all she wanted was a warm and +comfortable corner to settle down into. Some masculine creature would be +sure to begin to want her very soon. It was only to be hoped that youth +and flightiness would not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> descend upon her—though three children might +be supposed to form a barrier. But she had a girlish figure and her hair +was reddish gold and curly and her full and not too small mouth was red +and curly also. The first time she went to church in her little widow's +bonnet with the reddish gold showing itself under the pathetic little +white crêpe border, she was looked at a good deal. Especially was she +looked at by an extremely respectable middle-aged widower who had been a +friend of her dead husband's. His wife had been dead six years, he had a +comfortable house and a comfortable shop which had thriven greatly +through a connection with army supplies.</p> + +<p>He came to see Henrietta and he had the good sense to treat Dowie as if +she were her mother. He explained himself and his circumstances to her +and his previous friendship for her nephew. He asked Dowie if she +objected to his coming to see her niece and bringing toys to the +children.</p> + +<p>"I'm fond of young ones. I wanted 'em myself. I never had any," he said +bluntly. "There's plenty of room in my house. It's a cheerful place with +good solid furniture in it from top to bottom. There's one room we used +to call 'the Nursery' sometimes just for a joke—not often. I choked up +one day when I said it and Mary Jane burst out crying. I could do with +six."</p> + +<p>He was stout about the waist but his small blue eyes sparkled in his red +face and Henrietta's slimness unromantically but practically approved of +him.</p> + +<p>One evening Dowie came into the little parlour to find her sitting upon +his knee and he restrained her when she tried to rise hastily.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +<p>"Don't get up, Hetty," he said. "Your Aunt Sarah Ann'll understand. +We've had a talk and she's a sensible woman. She says she'll marry me, +Mrs. Dowson—as soon as it's right and proper."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we've had a talk," Dowie replied in her nice steady voice. "He'll +be a good husband to you, Henrietta—kind to the children."</p> + +<p>"I'd be kind to them even if she wouldn't marry me," the stout lover +answered. "I want 'em. I've told myself sometimes that I ought to have +been the mother of six—not the father but the mother. And I'm not +joking."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you are, Mr. Jenkinson," said Dowie.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As she sat before the window in the scrap of a parlour and held the +sleeping new baby on her comfortable lap, she was thinking of this and +feeling glad that poor Jem's widow and children were so well provided +for. It would be highly respectable and proper. The ardour of Mr. +Jenkinson would not interfere with his waiting until Henrietta's weeds +could be decorously laid aside and then the family would be joyfully +established in his well-furnished and decent house. During his probation +he would visit Henrietta and bring presents to the children and +unostentatiously protect them all and "do" for them.</p> + +<p>"They won't really need me now that Henrietta's well and cheerful and +has got some one to make much of her and look after her," Dowie +reflected, trotting the baby gently. "I can't help believing her grace +would take me on again if I wrote and asked her. And I should be near +Miss Robin, thank God. It seems a long time since—"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> +<p>She suddenly leaned forward and looked up the narrow street where the +wind was blowing the dust about and whirling some scraps of paper. She +watched a moment and then lifted the baby and stood up so that she might +make more sure of the identity of a tall gentleman she saw approaching. +She only looked at him for a few seconds and then she left the parlour +quickly and went to the back room where she had been aware of Mr. +Jenkinson's voice rumbling amiably along as a background to her +thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Henrietta," she said, "his lordship's coming down the street and he's +coming here. I'm afraid something's happened to Miss Robin or her grace. +Perhaps I'm needed at Eaton Square. Please take the baby."</p> + +<p>"Give him to me," said Jenkinson and it was he who took him with quite +an experienced air.</p> + +<p>Henrietta was agitated.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my goodness! Aunt Sarah Ann! I feel all shaky. I never saw a +lord—and he's a marquis, isn't it? I shan't know what to do."</p> + +<p>"You won't have to do anything," answered Dowie. "He'll only say what +he's come to say and go away."</p> + +<p>She went out of the room as quickly as she had come into it because she +heard the sound of the cheap little door knocker. She was pale with +anxiety when she opened the door and Lord Coombe saw her troubled look +and understood its reason.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I have rather alarmed you, Dowie," he said as he stepped +into the narrow lobby and shook hands with her.</p> + +<p>"It's not bad news of her grace or Miss Robin?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"I have come to ask you to come back to London. Her grace is well but +Miss Robin needs you," was what he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Dowie knew the words did not tell her everything she was to hear. +She took him into the parlour for which she realised he was much too +tall. When she discreetly closed the door after he had entered, he said +seriously, "Thank you," before he seated himself. And she knew that this +meant that they must be undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"Will you sit down too," he said as she stood a moment waiting +respectfully. "We must talk together."</p> + +<p>She took a chair opposite to him and waited respectfully again. Yes, he +had something grave on his mind. He had come to tell her something—to +ask her questions perhaps—to require something of her. Her superiors +had often required things of her in the course of her experience—such +things as they would not have asked of a less sensible and reliable +woman. And she had always been ready.</p> + +<p>When he began to talk to her he spoke as he always did, in a tone which +sounded unemotional but held one's attention. But his face had changed +since she had last seen it. It had aged and there was something +different in the eyes. That was the War. Since the War began so many +faces had altered.</p> + +<p>During the years in the slice of a house he had never talked to her very +much. It was with Mademoiselle he had talked and his interviews with her +had not taken place in the nursery. How was it then that he seemed to +know her so well. Had Mademoiselle told him that she was a woman to be +trusted safely with any serious and intimate confidence—that being +given any grave secret to shield, she would guard it as silently and +discreetly as a great lady might guard such a thing if it were perso<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>nal +to her own family—as her grace herself might guard it. That he knew +this fact without a shadow of doubt was subtly manifest in every word he +spoke, in each tone of his voice. There was strange dark trouble to +face—and keep secret—and he had come straight to her—Sarah Ann +Dowson—because he was sure of her and knew her ways. It was her <i>ways</i> +he knew and understood—her steadiness and that she had the kind of +manners that keep a woman from talking about things and teach her how to +keep other people from being too familiar and asking questions. And he +knew what that kind of manners was built on—just decent faithfulness +and honest feeling. He didn't say it in so many words, of course, but as +Dowie listened it was exactly as if he said it in gentleman's language.</p> + +<p>England was full of strange and cruel tragedies. And they were not all +tragedies of battle and sudden death. Many of them were near enough to +seem even worse—if worse could be. Dowie had heard some hints of them +and had wondered what the world was coming to. As her visitor talked her +heart began to thump in her side. Whatsoever had happened was no secret +from her grace. And together she and his lordship were going to keep it +a secret from the world. Dowie could scarcely have told what phrase or +word at last suddenly brought up before her a picture of the nursery in +the house in Mayfair—the feeling of a warm soft childish body pressed +close to her knee, the look of a tender, dewy-eyed small face and the +sound of a small yearning voice saying:</p> + +<p>"I want to <i>kiss</i> you, Dowie." And so hearing it, Dowie's heart cried +out to itself, "Oh! Dear Lord!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's Miss Robin that trouble's come to," involuntarily broke from her.</p> + +<p>"A trouble she must be protected in. She cannot protect herself." For a +few seconds he sat and looked at her very steadily. It was as though he +were asking a question. Dowie did not know she was going to rise from +her chair. But for some reason she got up and stood quite firmly before +him. And her good heart went thump-thump-thump.</p> + +<p>"Your lordship," she said and in spite of the thumping her voice +actually did not shake. "It was one of those War weddings. And perhaps +he's dead."</p> + +<p>Then it was Lord Coombe who left his chair.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Dowie," he said and before he began to walk up and down the +tiny room she felt as if he made a slight bow to her.</p> + +<p>She had said something that he had wished her to say. She had removed +some trying barrier for him instead of obliging him to help her to cross +it and perhaps stumbling on her way. She had neither stumbled nor +clambered, she had swept it away out of his path and hers. That was +because she knew Miss Robin and had known her from her babyhood.</p> + +<p>Though for some time he walked to and fro slowly as he talked she saw +that it was easier for him to complete the relation of his story. But as +it proceeded it was necessary for her to make an effort to recall +herself to a realisation of the atmosphere of the parlour and the narrow +street outside the window—and she was glad to be assisted by the +amiable rumble of Mr. Jenkinson's voice as heard from the back room when +she found herself involuntarily leaning forward in her chair, vaguely +conscious that she was drawing short breaths, as she l<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>istened to what he +was telling her. The things she was listening to stood out from a +background of unreality so startling. She was even faintly tormented by +shadowy memories of a play she had seen years ago at Drury Lane. And +Drury Lane incidents were of a world so incongruously remote from the +house in Eaton Square and her grace's clever aquiline ivory face—and +his lordship with his quiet bearing and his unromantic and elderly, +tired fineness. And yet he was going to undertake to do a thing which +was of the order of deed the sober everyday mind could only expect from +the race of persons known as "heroes" in theatres and in books. And he +was noticeably and wholly untheatrical about it. His plans were those of +a farseeing and practical man in every detail. To Dowie the working +perfection of his preparations was amazing. They included every +contingency and seemed to forget nothing and ignore no possibility. He +had thought of things the cleverest woman might have thought of, he had +achieved effects as only a sensible man accustomed to power and +obedience could have achieved them. And from first to last he kept +before Dowie the one thing which held the strongest appeal. In her +helpless heartbreak and tragedy Robin needed her as she needed no one +else in the world.</p> + +<p>"She is so broken and weakened that she may not live," he said in the +end. "No one can care for her as you can."</p> + +<p>"I can care for her, poor lamb. I'll come when your lordship's ready for +me, be it soon or late."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Dowie," he said again. "It will be soon."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> +<p>And when he shook hands with her and she opened the front door for him, +she stood and watched him, thinking very deeply as he walked down the +street with the wind-blown dust and scraps of paper whirling about him.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + + +<p>In little more than two weeks Dowie descended from her train in the +London station and took a hansom cab which carried her through the +familiar streets to Eaton Square. She was comforted somewhat by the mere +familiarity of things—even by the grade of smoke which seemed in some +way to be different from the smoke of Manchester's cotton factory +chimneys—by the order of rattle and roar and rumble, which had a +homelike sound. She had not felt at home in Manchester and she had not +felt quite at home with Henrietta though she had done her duty by her. +Their worlds had been far apart and daily adjustment to circumstances is +not easy though it may be accomplished without the betrayal of any +outward sign. His lordship's summons had come soon, as he had said it +would, but he had made it possible for her to leave in the little house +a steady and decent woman to take her place when she gave it up.</p> + +<p>She had made her journey from the North with an anxiously heavy heart in +her breast. She was going to "take on" a responsibility which included +elements previously quite unknown to her. She was going to help to hide +something, to live with a strange secret trouble and while she did so +must wear her accustomed, respectable and decorous manner and aspect. +Whatsoever alarmed or startled her, she must not seem to be startled or +alarmed. As his lordship had carried himself with his usual bearing, +spoken in his high-bred calm voice and not once failed in the +naturalness of his expr<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>ession—even when he had told her the whole +strange plan—so she must in any circumstances which arose and in any +difficult situation wear always the aspect of a well-bred and trained +servant who knew nothing which did not concern her and did nothing which +ordinary domestic service did not require that she should do. She must +always seem to be only Sarah Ann Dowson and never forget. But delicate +and unusual as this problem was, it was not the thing which made her +heart heavy. Several times during her journey she had been obliged to +turn her face towards the window of the railway carriage and away from +her fellow passengers so that she might very quickly and furtively touch +her eyes with her handkerchief because she did not want any one to see +the tear which obstinately welled up in spite of her efforts to keep it +back.</p> + +<p>She had heard of "trouble" in good families, had even been related to +it. She knew how awful it was and what desperate efforts were made, what +desperate means resorted to, in the concealment of it. And how difficult +and almost impossible it was to cope with it and how it seemed sometimes +as if the whole fabric of society and custom combined to draw attention +to mere trifles which in the end proved damning evidence.</p> + +<p>And it was Miss Robin she was going to—her own Miss Robin who had never +known a child of her own age or had a girl friend—who had been cut off +from innocent youth and youth's happiness and intimacies.</p> + +<p>"It's been one of those poor mad young war weddings," she kept saying to +herself, "though no one will believe her. If she hadn't been so ignorant +of life and so lonely! But just as she fell down worshipping that dear +little chap in the Gardens because he was the first she'd ever +seen—it's only nature that the first beautif<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>ul young thing her own age +that looked at her with love rising up in him should set it rising in +her—where God had surely put it if ever He put love as part of life in +any girl creature His hand made. But Oh! I can <i>see</i> no one will believe +her! The world's heart's so wicked. I know, poor lamb. Her Dowie knows. +And her left like this!"</p> + +<p>It was when her thoughts reached this point that the tear would gather +in the corner of her eye and would have trickled down her cheek if she +had not turned away towards the window.</p> + +<p>But above all things she told herself she must present only Dowie's face +when she reached Eaton Square. There were the servants who knew nothing +and must know nothing but that Mrs. Dowson had come to take care of poor +Miss Lawless who had worked too hard and was looking ill and was to be +sent into the country to some retreat her grace had chosen because it +was far enough away to allow of her being cut off from war news and +work, if her attendants were faithful and firm. Every one knew Mrs. +Dowson would be firm and faithful. Then there were the ladies who went +in and out of the house in these days. If they saw her by any chance +they might ask kind interested questions about the pretty creature they +had liked. They might inquire as to symptoms, they might ask where she +was to be taken to be nursed. Dowie knew that after she had seen Robin +herself she could provide suitable symptoms and she knew, as she knew +how to breathe and walk, exactly the respectful voice and manner in +which she could make her replies and how natural she could cause it to +appear that she had not yet been told their destination—her grace +being still undecided. Dowie's decent intelligence knew the methods of +her c<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>lass and their value when perfectly applied. A nurse or a young +lady's maid knew only what she was told and did not ask questions.</p> + +<p>But what she thought of most anxiously was Robin herself. His lordship +had given her no instructions. Part of his seeming to understand her was +that he had seemed to be sure that she would know what to say and what +to leave unsaid. She was glad of that because it left her free to think +the thing over and make her own quiet plans. She drew more than one +tremulous sigh as she thought it out. In the first place—little Miss +Robin seemed like a baby to her yet! Oh, she <i>was</i> a baby! Little Miss +Robin just in her teens and with her childish asking eyes and her soft +childish mouth! Her a young married lady and needing to be taken care +of! She was too young to be married—if it was ever so! And if +everything had been done all right and proper with wedding cake and +veil, orange blossoms and St. George's, Hanover Square, she still would +have been too young and would have looked almost cruelly like a child. +And at a time such as this Dowie would have known she was one to be +treated with great delicacy and tender reserve. But as it was—a little +shamed thing to be hidden away—to be saved from the worst of fates for +any girl—with nothing in her hand to help her—how would it be wisest +to face her, how could one best be a comfort and a help?</p> + +<p>How the sensible and tender creature gave her heart and brain to her +reflections! How she balanced one chance and one emotion against +another! Her conclusion was, as Coombe had known it would be, drawn from +the experience of practical wisdom and an affection as deep as the +experience was broad.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> +<p>"She won't be afraid of Dowie," she thought, "if it's just Dowie that +looks at her exactly as she always did. In her little soul she may be +frightened to death but if it's only Dowie she sees—not asking +questions or looking curious and unnatural, she'll get over it and know +she's got something to hold on to. What she needs is something she can +hold on to—something that won't tremble when she does—and that looks +at her in the way she was used to when she was happy and safe. What I +must do with her is what I must do with the others—just look and talk +and act as Dowie always did, however hard it is. Perhaps when we get +away to the quiet place we're going to hide in, she may begin to want to +talk to me. But not a question do I ask or look until she's ready to +open her poor heart to me."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>She had herself well under control when she reached her destination. She +had bathed her face and freshened herself with a cup of hot tea at the +station. She entered the house quite with her usual manner and was +greeted with obvious welcome by her fellow servants. They had missed her +and were glad to see her again. She reported herself respectfully to +Mrs. James in the housekeeper's sitting room and they had tea again and +a confidential talk.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you could leave your niece, Mrs. Dowson," the housekeeper +said. "It's high time poor little Miss Lawless was sent away from +London. She's not fit for war work now or for anything but lying in bed +in a quiet place where she can get fresh country air and plenty of fresh +eggs, and good milk and chicken broth. And she needs a motherly woman +like you to watch her carefully."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<p>"Does she look as delicate as all that?" said Dowie concernedly.</p> + +<p>"She'll lie in the graveyard in a few months if something's not done. +I've seen girls look like her before this." And Mrs. James said it +almost sharply.</p> + +<p>But even with this preparation and though Lord Coombe had spoken +seriously of the state of the girl's health, Dowie was not ready to +encounter without a fearful sense of shock what she confronted a little +later when she went to Robin's sitting room as she was asked to.</p> + +<p>When she tapped upon the door and in response to a faint sounding "Come +in" entered the pretty place, Robin rose from her seat by the fire and +came towards her holding out her arms.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you came, Dowie dear," she said, "I'm <i>so</i> glad." She put +the arms close round Dowie's neck and kissed her and held her cheek +against the comfortable warm one a moment before she let go. "I'm so +<i>glad</i>, dear," she murmured and it was even as she felt the arms close +about her neck and the cheek press hers that Dowie caught her breath and +held it so that she might not seem to gasp. They were such thin frail +arms, the young body on which the dress hung loose was only a shadow of +the round slimness which had been so sweet.</p> + +<p>But it was when the arm released her and they stood apart and looked at +each other that she felt the shock in full force while Robin continued +her greetings.</p> + +<p>"Did you leave Henrietta and the children quite well?" she was saying. +"Is the new baby a pretty one?"</p> + +<p>Dowie had not been one of those who had seen the gradual development of +the physical change in her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> It came upon her suddenly. She had left a young creature all softly +rounded girlhood, sweet curves and life glow and bloom. She found +herself holding a thin hand and looking into a transparent, sharpened +small face whose eyes were hollowed. The silk of the curls on the +forehead had a dankness and lifelessness which almost made her catch her +breath again. Like Mrs. James she herself had more than once had the +experience of watching young creatures slip into what the nurses of her +day called "rapid decline" and she knew all the piteous portents of the +early stages—the waxen transparency of sharpened features and the damp +clinging hair. These two last were to her mind the most significant of +the early terrors.</p> + +<p>And in less than five minutes she knew that the child was not going to +talk about herself and that she had been right in making up her own mind +to wait. Whatsoever the strain of silence, there would be no speech now. +The piteous darkness of her eye held a stillness that was +heart-breaking. It was a stillness of such touching endurance of +something inevitable. Whatsoever had happened to her, whatsoever was +going to happen to her, she would make no sound. She would outwardly be +affectionate, pretty-mannered Miss Robin just as Dowie herself would +give all her strength to trying to seem to be nothing and nobody but +Dowie. And what it would cost of effort to do it well!</p> + +<p>When they sat down together it was because she drew Robin by the thin +little hand to an easy chair and she still held the thin hand when she +sat near her.</p> + +<p>"Henrietta's quite well, I'm glad to say," she answered. "And the baby's +a nice plump little fellow. I left them very comfortable—and I think in +time Henrietta will be married again."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> +<p>"Married again!" said Robin. "Again!"</p> + +<p>"He's a nice well-to-do man and he's fond of her and he's fond of +children. He's never had any and he's always wanted them."</p> + +<p>"Has he?" Robin murmured. "That's very nice for Henrietta." But there +was a shadow in her eyes which was rather like frightened bewilderment.</p> + +<p>Dowie still holding the mere nothing of a hand, stroked and patted it +now and then as she described Mr. Jenkinson and the children and the +life in the house in Manchester. She wanted to gain time and commonplace +talk helped her.</p> + +<p>"She won't be married again until her year's up," she explained. "And +it's the best thing she could do—being left a young widow with children +and nothing to live on. Mr. Jenkinson can give her more than she's ever +had in the way of comforts."</p> + +<p>"Did she love poor Jem very much?" Robin asked.</p> + +<p>"She was very much taken with him in her way when she married him," +Dowie said. "He was a cheerful, joking sort of young man and girls like +Henrietta like jokes and fun. But they were neither of them romantic and +it had begun to be a bit hard when the children came. She'll be very +comfortable with Mr. Jenkinson and being comfortable means being +happy—to Henrietta."</p> + +<p>Then Robin smiled a strange little ghost of a smile—but there were no +dimples near it.</p> + +<p>"You haven't told me that I am thin, Dowie," she said. "I know I am +thin, but it doesn't matter. And I am glad you kissed me first. That +made me sure that you were Dowie and not only a dream. Everything has +been seeming as if it were a +dream—everything—myself—everybody—even you—<i>you</i>!" And the small +hand clutched her hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>.</p> + +<p>A large lump climbed into Dowie's throat but she managed it bravely.</p> + +<p>"It's no use telling people they're thin," she answered with stout good +cheer. "It doesn't help to put flesh on them. And there are a good many +young ladies working themselves thin in these days. You're just one of +them that's going to be taken care of. I'm not a dream, Miss Robin, my +dear. I'm just your own Dowie and I'm going to take care of you as I did +when you were six."</p> + +<p>She actually felt the bones of the small hand as it held her own still +closer. It began to tremble because Robin had begun to tremble. But +though she was trembling and her eyes looked very large and frightened, +the silence was still deep within them.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the low voice faltered, "you will take care of me. Thank you, +Dowie dear. I—must let people take care of me. I know that. I am like +Henrietta."</p> + +<p>And that was all.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"She's very much changed, your grace," Dowie said breathlessly when she +went to the Duchess afterwards. There had been no explanation or going +into detail but she knew that she might allow herself to be breathless +when she stood face to face with her grace. "Does she cough? Has she +night sweats? Has she any appetite?"</p> + +<p>"She does not cough yet," the Duchess answered, but her grave eyes were +as troubled as Dowie's own. "Doctor Redcliff will tell you everything. +He will see you alone. We are sending her away with you because you +love her and will know how to take care of her. We are very anx<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>ious."</p> + +<p>"Your grace," Dowie faltered and one of the tears she had forced back +when she was in the railway carriage rose insubordinately and rolled +down her cheek, "just once I nursed a young lady who—looked as she does +now. I did my best with all my heart, the doctors did their best, +everybody that loved her did their best—and there were a good many. We +watched over her for six months."</p> + +<p>"Six months?" the Duchess' voice was an unsteady thing.</p> + +<p>"At the end of six months we laid her away in a pretty country +churchyard, with flowers heaped all over her—and her white little hands +full of them. And she hadn't—as much to contend with—as Miss Robin +has."</p> + +<p>And in the minute of dead silence which followed more tears fell. No one +tried to hold them back and some of them were the tears of the old +Duchess.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + + +<p>There are old and forgotten churches in overgrown corners of London +whose neglected remoteness suggests the possibility of any +ecclesiastical ceremony being performed quite unobserved except by the +parties concerned in it. If entries and departures were discreetly +arranged, a baptismal or a marriage ceremony might take place almost as +in a tomb. A dark wet day in which few pass by and such as pass are +absorbed in their own discomforts beneath their umbrellas, offers a +curiously entire aloofness of seclusion. In the neglected graveyards +about them there is no longer any room to bury any one in the damp black +earth where the ancient tombs are dark with mossy growth and mould, +heavy broken slabs slant sidewise perilously, sad and thin cats prowl, +and from a soot-blackened tree or so the rain drops with hollow, +plashing sounds.</p> + +<p>The rain was so plashing and streaming in rivulets among the mounds and +stones of the burial ground of one of the most ancient and forgotten +looking of such churches, when on a certain afternoon there came to the +narrow soot-darkened Vicarage attached to it a tall, elderly man who +wished to see and talk to the Vicar.</p> + +<p>The Vicar in question was an old clergyman who had spent nearly fifty +years in the silent, ecclesiastical-atmosphered small house. He was an +unmarried man whose few relatives living in the far North of England +were too poor and unenterprising to travel to London. His days were +spent in unsatisfactory work among crowded and po<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>verty-stricken human +creatures before whom he felt helpless because he was an unpractical old +Oxford bookworm. He read such services as he held in his dim church, to +empty pews and echoing hollowness. He was nevertheless a deeply thinking +man who was a gentleman of a scarcely remembered school; he was a +peculiarly silent man and of dignified understanding. Through the long +years he had existed in detached seclusion in his corner of his world +around which great London roared and swept almost unheard by him in his +remoteness.</p> + +<p>When the visitor's card was brought to him where he sat in his dingy, +book-packed study, he stood—after he had told his servant to announce +the caller—gazing dreamily at the name upon the white surface. It was a +stately name and brought back vague memories. Long ago—very long ago, +he seemed to recall that he had slightly known the then bearer of it. He +himself had been young then—quite young. The man he had known was dead +and this one, his successor, must by this time have left youth behind +him. What had led him to come?</p> + +<p>Then the visitor was shown into the study. The Vicar felt that he was a +man of singular suggestions. His straight build, his height, his +carriage arrested the attention and the clear cut of his cold face held +it. One of his marked suggestions was that there was unusual lack of +revelation in his rather fine almond eye. It might have revealed much +but its intention was to reveal nothing but courteous detachment from +all but well-bred approach to the demand of the present moment.</p> + +<p>"I think I remember seeing you when you were a boy, Lord Coombe," the +Vicar said. "My father was rector of St. Andre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>ws." St. Andrews was the +Norman-towered church on the edge of the park enclosing Coombe Keep.</p> + +<p>"I came to you because I also remembered that," was Coombe's reply.</p> + +<p>Their meeting was a very quiet one. But every incident of life was quiet +in the Vicarage. Only low sounds were ever heard, only almost soundless +movements made. The two men seated themselves and talked calmly while +the rain pattered on the window panes and streaming down them seemed to +shut out the world.</p> + +<p>What the Vicar realised was that, since his visitor had announced that +he had come because he remembered their old though slight acquaintance, +he had obviously come for some purpose to which the connection formed a +sort of support or background. This man, whose modernity of bearing and +externals seemed to separate them by a lifetime of experience, clearly +belonged to the London which surrounded and enclosed his own silences +with civilised roar and the tumult of swift passings. On the surface the +small, dingy book-crammed study obviously held nothing this outer world +could require. The Vicar said as much courteously and he glanced round +the room as he spoke, gently smiling.</p> + +<p>"But it is exactly this which brings me," Lord Coombe answered.</p> + +<p>With great clearness and never raising the note of quiet to which the +walls were accustomed, he made his explanation. He related no incidents +and entered into no detail. When he had at length concluded the +presentation of his desires, his hearer knew nothing whatever, save what +was absolutely necessary, of those concerned in the matter. Utterly +detached from all curiosities as he wa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>s, this crossed the Vicar's mind. +There was a marriage ceremony to be performed. That only the contracting +parties should be aware of its performance was absolutely necessary. +That there should be no chance of opportunity given for question or +comment was imperative. Apart from this the legality of the contract was +all that concerned those entering into it; and that must be assured +beyond shadow of possible doubt.</p> + +<p>In the half-hidden and forgotten old church to which the Vicarage was +attached such a ceremony could obviously be performed, and to an +incumbent detached from the outer world, as it were, and one who was +capable of comprehending the occasional gravity of reasons for silence, +it could remain so long as was necessary a confidence securely guarded.</p> + +<p>"It is possible," the Vicar said at the end of the explanation. "I have +performed the ceremony before under somewhat similar circumstances."</p> + +<p>A man of less breeding and with even normal curiosities might have made +the mistake of asking innocent questions. He asked none except such as +related to the customary form of procedure in such matters. He did not, +in fact, ask questions of himself. He was also fully aware that Lord +Coombe would have given no answer to any form of inquiry. The marriage +was purely his own singular affair. It was he himself who chose in this +way to be married—in a forgotten church in whose shadowy emptiness the +event would be as a thing brought to be buried unseen and unmarked by +any stone, but would yet be a contract binding in the face and courts of +the world if it should for any reason be exhumed.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> +<p>When he rose to go and the Vicar rose with him, there was a moment of +pause which was rather curious. The men's eyes met and for a few moments +rested upon each other. The Vicar's were still and grave, but there was +a growth of deep feeling in them. This suggested a sort of profound +human reflection.</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe's expression itself changed a shade. It might perhaps be +said that his eyes had before this moment scarcely seemed to hold +expression.</p> + +<p>"She is very young," he said in an unusual voice. "In +this—holocaust—she needs protection. I can protect her."</p> + +<p>"It is a holocaust," the Vicar said, "—a holocaust." And singularly the +words seemed an answer.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On a morning of one of London's dark days when the rain was again +splashing and streaming in rivulets among the mounds and leaning and +tumbling stones of the forgotten churchyard, there came to the church +three persons who if they had appeared in more frequented edifices would +have attracted some attention without doubt, unnoticeably as they were +dressed and inconspicuous as was their manner and bearing.</p> + +<p>They did not all three present themselves at the same time. First there +appeared the tall elderly man who had visited and conferred with the +Vicar. He went at once to the vestry where he spent some time with the +incumbent who awaited him.</p> + +<p>Somewhat later there stepped through the little arched doorway a +respectable looking elderly woman and a childlike white-faced girl in a +close black frock. That the church looked to them so dark as to be +almost black with shadows was manifest when they found themselves +inside peering into the dimness. The outer darkness seemed to hav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>e +crowded itself through the low doorway to fill the groined arches with +gloom.</p> + +<p>"Where must we go to, Dowie?" Robin whispered holding to the warm, stout +arm.</p> + +<p>"Don't be timid, my dearie," Dowie whispered back. "His lordship will be +ready for us now we've come."</p> + +<p>His lordship was ready. He came forward to meet them and when he did so, +Robin knew—though he seemed to be part of the dimness and to come out +of a dream—that she need feel no further uncertainties or fears. That +which was to take place would move forward without let or hindrance to +its end. That was what one always felt in his presence.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes they were standing in a part of the church which would +have seemed darker than any other shadow-filled corner but that a dim +light burned on a small altar and a clergyman whose white vestments made +him look wraithlike and very tall waited before it and after a few +moments of solemn silence began to read from the prayer book he held in +his hand.</p> + +<p>There were strange passings and repassings through Robin's mind as she +made her low responses—memories of the hours when she had asked herself +if she were still alive—if she were not dead as Donal was, but walking +about without having found it out. It was as though this must be true +now and her own voice and Lord Coombe's and the clergyman's only ghosts' +voices. They were so low and unlike real voices and when they floated +away among the shadows, low ghastly echoes seemed to float with them.</p> + +<p>"I will," she heard herself say, and also other things the clergyman +told her to repeat after him and when Lord Coombe spoke she could +scarcely understand because it was all like a dream and did not matter.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> +<p>Once she turned so cold and white and trembled so that Dowie made an +involuntary movement towards her, but Lord Coombe's quiet firmness held +her swaying body and though the clergyman paused a moment the trembling +passed away and the ceremony went on. She had begun to tremble because +she remembered that the other marriage had seemed like a dream in +another world than this—a world which was so alive that she had +trembled and thrilled with exquisite living. And because Donal knew how +frightened she was he had stood so close to her that she had felt the +dear warmness of his body. And he had held her hand quite tight when he +took it and his "I will" had been beautiful and clear. And when he had +put on the borrowed ring he had drawn her eyes up to the blue tarn of +his own. Donal was killed! Perhaps the young chaplain had been killed +too. And she was being married to Lord Coombe who was an old man and did +not stand close to her, whose hand scarcely held hers at all—but who +was putting on a ring.</p> + +<p>Her eyes—her hunted young doe's eyes—lifted themselves. Lord Coombe +met them and understood. Strangely she knew he understood—that he knew +what she was thinking about. For that one moment there came into his +eyes a look which might not have been his own, and vaguely she knew that +it held strange understanding and he was sorry for her—and for Donal +and for everything in the world.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + + +<p>The little feudal fastness in the Highlands which was called Darreuch +Castle—when it was mentioned by any one, which was rarely—had been +little more than a small ruin when Lord Coombe inherited it as an +unconsidered trifle among more imposing and available property. It had +indeed presented the aspect not so much of an asset as of an entirely +useless relic. The remote and—as far as record dwelt on him—obviously +unnotable ancestor who had built it as a stronghold in an almost +unreachable spot upon the highest moors had doubtlessly had picturesque +reasons for the structure, but these were lost in the dim past and +appeared on the surface, unexplainable to a modern mind. Lord Coombe +himself had not explained an interest he chose to feel in it, or his own +reasons for repairing it a few years after it came into his possession. +He rebuilt certain breaches in the walls and made certain rooms +sufficiently comfortable to allow of his spending a few nights or weeks +in it at rare intervals. He always went alone, taking no servant with +him, and made his retreat after his own mood, served only by the farmer +and his wife who lived in charge from year's end to year's end, herding +a few sheep and cultivating a few acres for their own needs.</p> + +<p>They were a silent pair without children and plainly not feeling the +lack of them. They had lived in remote moorland places since their +birth. They had so little to say to each other that Lord Coombe +sometimes felt a slight curiosity as to why they had married instead of +remaining sile<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>nt singly. There was however neither sullenness nor +resentment in their lack of expression. Coombe thought they liked each +other but found words unnecessary. Jock Macaur driving his sheep to fold +in the westering sun wore the look of a man not unpleased with life and +at least undisturbed by it. Maggy Macaur doing her housework, churning +or clucking to her hens, was peacefully cheerful and seemed to ask no +more of life than food and sleep and comfortable work which could be +done without haste. There were no signs of knowledge on her part or +Jock's of the fact that they were surrounded by wonders of moorland and +hillside colour and beauty. Sunrise which leaped in delicate flames of +dawn meant only that they must leave their bed; sunset which lighted the +moorland world with splendour meant that a good night's sleep was +coming.</p> + +<p>Jock had heard from a roaming shepherd or so that the world was at war +and that lads were being killed in their thousands. One good man had +said that the sons of the great gentry were being killed with the rest. +Jock did not say that he did not believe it and in fact expressed no +opinion at all. If he and Maggy gave credit to the story, they were +little disturbed by any sense of its reality. They had no neighbours and +their few stray kinfolk lived at remote distances and were not given to +visits or communications. There had been vague rumours of far away wars +in the years past, but they had assumed no more reality than legends. +This war was a shadow too and after Jock came home one night and +mentioned it as he might have mentioned the death of a cow or the buying +of a moor pony the subject was forgotten by both.</p> + +<p>"His lordship" it was who reminded them of it. He even bestowed upon +the rumour a certain reality. He appeared at t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>he stout little old castle +one day without having sent them warning, which was unusual. He came to +give some detailed orders and to instruct them in the matter of changes. +He had shown forethought in bringing with him a selection of illustrated +newspapers. This saved time and trouble in the matter of making the +situation clear. The knowledge which conveyed itself to Maggy and Jock +produced the effect of making them even more silent than usual if such a +condition were possible. They stared fixedly and listened with respect +but beyond a rare "Hech!" they had no opinion to express. It became +plain that the war was more than a mere rumour— The lads who had been +blown to bits or bayoneted! The widows and orphans that were left! Some +of the youngest of the lads had lost their senses and married young +things only to go off to the ill place folk called "The Front" and leave +them widows in a few days' or weeks' time. There were hundreds of bits +of girls left lonely waiting for their bairns to come into the world— +Some with scarce a penny unless friends took care of them. There was a +bit widow in her teens who was a distant kinswoman of his lordship's, +and her poor lad was among those who were killed. He had been a fine lad +and he would never see his bairn. The poor young widow had been ill with +grief and the doctors said she must be hidden away in some quiet place +where she would never hear of battles or see a newspaper. She must be +kept in peace and taken great care of if she was to gain strength to +live through her time. She had no family to watch over her and his +lordship and an old lady who was fond of her had taken her trouble in +hand. The well-trained woman who had nursed her as a child would bring +her to Darreuch Castle and there would stay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>His lordship had been plainly much interested in the long time past when +he had put the place in order for his own convenience. Now he seemed +even more interested and more serious. He went from room to room with a +grave face and looked things over carefully. He had provided himself +with comforts and even luxuries before his first coming and they had +been of the solid baronial kind which does not deteriorate. It was a +little castle and a forgotten one, but his rooms had beauty and had not +been allowed to be as gloomy as they might have been if stone walls and +black oak had not been warmed by the rich colours of tapestry and +pictures which held light and glow. But other things were coming from +London. He himself would wait to see them arrive and installed. The +Macaurs wondered what more the "young leddy" and her woman could want +but took their orders obediently. Her woman's name was Mrs. Dowson and +she was a quiet decent body who would manage the household. That the +young widow was to be well taken care of was evident. A doctor was to +ride up the moorland road each day to see her, which seemed a great +precaution even though the Macaurs did not know that he had consented to +live temporarily in the locality because he had been well paid to do so. +Lord Coombe had chosen him with as discreet selection as he had used in +his choice of the vicar of the ancient and forsaken church. A rather +young specialist who was an enthusiast in his work and as ambitious as +he was poor, could contemplate selling some months of his time for value +received if the terms offered were high enough. That silence and +discretion were required formed no objections.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The rain poured down on the steep moorland road when the carriage slowly +climbed it to the castle. Robin, seeming to gaze out at the sodden +heath, did not really see it because she was thinking of Dowie who sat +silently by her side. Dowie had taken her from the church to the station +and they had made the long journey together. They had talked very little +in the train though Dowie had been tenderly careful and kind. Robin knew +she would ask no questions and she dully felt that the blows which were +falling on everybody every day must have stunned her also. What she +herself was thinking as she seemed to gaze at the sodden heather was a +thing of piteous and helpless pain. She was achingly wondering what +Dowie was thinking—what she knew and what she thought of the girl she +had taken such care of and who was being sent away to be hidden in a +ruined castle whose existence was a forgotten thing. The good +respectable face told nothing but it seemed to be trying to keep itself +from looking too serious; and once Robin had thought that it looked as +if Dowie might suddenly have broken down if she would have allowed +herself but she would not allow herself.</p> + +<p>The truth was that the two or three days at Eaton Square had been very +hard for Dowie to manage perfectly. To play her accepted part before her +fellow servants required much steady strength. They were all fond of +"poor little Miss Lawless" and had the tendency of their class to +discuss and dwell upon symptoms with sympathetic harrowingness of +detail. It seemed that all of them had had some friend or relative who +had "gone off in a quick decline. It's strange how many young people +do!" A head housemaid actually brought her heart into her throat one +afternoon by saying at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> servants' hall tea:</p> + +<p>"If she was one of the war brides, I should say she was just like my +cousin Lucy—poor girl. She and her husband were that fond of each other +that it was a pleasure to see them. He was killed in an accident. She +was expecting. And they'd been that happy. She went off in three months. +She couldn't live without him. She wasn't as pretty as Miss Lawless, of +course, but she had big brown eyes and it was the way they looked that +reminded me. Quick decline always makes people's eyes look big and—just +as poor little Miss Lawless does."</p> + +<p>To sit and eat buttered toast quietly and only look normally sad and +slowly shake one's head and say, "Yes indeed. I know what you mean, Miss +Tompkins," was an achievement entitled to much respect.</p> + +<p>The first night Dowie had put her charge to bed and had seen the faint +outline under the bedclothes and the sunken eyes under the pale closed +lids whose heaviness was so plain because it was a heaviness which had +no will to lift itself again and look at the morning, she could scarcely +bear her woe. As she dressed the child when morning came and saw the +delicate bones sharply denoting themselves, and the hollows in neck and +throat where smooth fairness had been, her hands almost shook as she +touched. And hardest of all to bear was the still, patient look in the +enduring eyes. She was being patient—<i>patient</i>, poor lamb, and only God +himself knew how she cried when she was left alone in her white bed, the +door closed between her and all the house.</p> + +<p>"Does she think I am wicked?" was what was passing through Robin's mind +as the carriage climbed the moor through the rain. "It would break my +heart if Dowie thought I wa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>s wicked. But even that does not matter. It +is only <i>my</i> heart."</p> + +<p>In memory she was looking again into Donal's eyes as he had looked into +hers when he knelt before her in the wood. Afterwards he had kissed her +dress and her feet when she said she would go with him to be married so +that he could have her for his own before he went away to be killed.</p> + +<p>It would have been <i>his</i> heart that would have been broken if she had +said "No" instead of whispering the soft "Yes" of a little mating bird, +which had always been her answer when he had asked anything of her.</p> + +<p>When the carriage drew up at last before the entrance to the castle, the +Macaurs awaited them with patient respectful faces. They saw the "decent +body" assist with care the descent of a young thing the mere lift of +whose eyes almost caused both of them to move a trifle backward.</p> + +<p>"You and Dowie are going to take care of me," she said quiet and low and +with a childish kindness. "Thank you."</p> + +<p>She was taken to a room in whose thick wall Lord Coombe had opened a +window for sunlight and the sight of hill and heather. It was a room +warm and full of comfort—a strange room to find in a little feudal +stronghold hidden from the world. Other rooms were near it, as +comfortable and well prepared. One in a tower adjoining was hung with +tapestry and filled with wonderful old things, uncrowded and harmonious +and so arranged as to produce the effect of a small retreat for rest, +the reading of books or refuge in stillness.</p> + +<p>When Robin went into it she stood for a few moments looking about +her—looking and wondering.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> +<p>"Lord Coombe remembers everything," she said very slowly at last, +"—everything. He remembers."</p> + +<p>"He always did remember," said Dowie watching her. "That's it."</p> + +<p>"I did not know—at first," Robin said as slowly as before. "I do—now."</p> + +<p>In the evening she sat long before the fire and Dowie, sewing near her, +looked askance now and then at her white face with the lost eyes. It was +Dowie's own thought that they were "lost." She had never before seen +anything like them. She could not help glancing sideways at them as they +gazed into the red glow of the coal. What was her mind dwelling on? Was +she thinking of words to say? Would she begin to feel that they were far +enough from all the world—remote and all alone enough for words not to +be sounds too terrible to hear even as they were spoken?</p> + +<p>"Oh! dear Lord," Dowie prayed, "help her to ease her poor, timid young +heart that's so crushed with cruel weight."</p> + +<p>"You must go to bed early, my dear," she said at length. "But why don't +you get a book and read?"</p> + +<p>The lost eyes left the fire and met hers.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk," Robin said. "I want to ask you things."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you anything you want to know," answered Dowie. "You're only +a child and you need an older woman to talk to."</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you about—<i>me</i>," said Robin. She sat straight in her +chair, her hands clasped on her knee. "Do you know about—me, Dowie?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear," Dowie answered.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what Lord Coombe told you."</p> + +<p>Dowie put down her sewing because she was afraid her hands would +tremble when she tried to find the proper phrase<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> in which to tell as +briefly as she could the extraordinary story.</p> + +<p>"He said that you were married to a young gentleman who was killed at +the Front—and that because you were both so young and hurried and upset +you perhaps hadn't done things as regular as you thought. And that you +hadn't the papers you ought to have for proof. And it might take too +much time to search for them now. And—and—Oh, my love, he's a good +man, for all you've hated him so! He won't let a child be born with +shame to blight it. And he's given you and it—poor helpless +innocent—his own name, God bless him!"</p> + +<p>Robin sat still and straight, with clasped hands on her knee, and her +eyes more lost than before, as she questioned Dowie remorselessly. There +was something she must know.</p> + +<p>"He said—and the Duchess said—that no one would believe me if I told +them I was married. Do <i>you</i> believe me, Dowie? Would Mademoiselle +believe me—if she is alive—for Oh! I believe she is dead! Would you +<i>both</i> believe me?"</p> + +<p>Dowie's work fell upon the rug and she held out both her comfortable +nursing arms, choking:</p> + +<p>"Come here, my lamb," she cried out, with suddenly streaming eyes. "Come +and sit on your old Dowie's knee like you used to do in the nursery."</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> believe me—you <i>do</i>!" As she had looked in the nursery +days—the Robin who left her chair and was swept into the well known +embrace—looked now. She hid her face on Dowie's shoulder and clung to +her with shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"I prayed to Jesus Christ that you would believe me, Dowie!" she cried. +"And that Mademoiselle would come if she is not killed. I wanted you to +<i>know</i> that it was true<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>—I wanted you to <i>know</i>!"</p> + +<p>"That was it, my pet lamb!" Dowie kept hugging her to her breast "We'd +both of us know! We know <i>you</i>—we do! No one need prove things to us. +We <i>know</i>!"</p> + +<p>"It frightened me so to think of asking you," shivered Robin. "When you +came to Eaton Square I could not bear it. If your dear face had looked +different I should have died. But I couldn't go to bed to-night without +finding out. The Duchess and Lord Coombe are very kind and sorry for me +and they say they believe me—but I can't feel sure they really do. And +nobody else would. But you and Mademoiselle. You loved me always and I +loved you. And I prayed you would."</p> + +<p>Dowie knew how Mademoiselle had died—of the heap of innocent village +people on which she had fallen bullet-riddled. But she said nothing of +her knowledge.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle would say what I do and she would stay and take care of +you as I'm going to do," she faltered. "God bless you for asking me +straight out, my dear! I was waiting for you to speak and praying you'd +do it before I went to bed myself. I couldn't have slept a wink if you +hadn't."</p> + +<p>For a space they sat silent—Robin on her knee like a child drooping +against her warm breast. Outside was the night stillness of the moor, +inside the night stillness held within the thick walls of stone rooms +and passages, in their hearts the stillness of something which yet +waited—unsaid.</p> + +<p>At last—</p> + +<p>"Did Lord Coombe tell you who—he was, Dowie?"</p> + +<p>"He said perhaps you would tell me yourself—if you felt you'd like me +to know. He said it was to be as you chose."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Robin fumbled with a thin hand at the neck of her dress. She drew from +it a chain with a silk bag attached. Out of the bag she took first a +small folded package.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the dry leaves I wanted to keep when I was so little?" +she whispered woefully. "I was too little to know how to save them. And +you made me this tiny silk bag."</p> + +<p>Dowie's face was almost frightened as she drew back to look. There was +in her motherly soul the sudden sense of panic she had felt in the +nursery so long ago.</p> + +<p>"My blessed child!" she breathed. "Not that one—after all that time!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robin. "Look, Dowie—look."</p> + +<p>She had taken a locket out of the silk bag and she opened it and Dowie +looked.</p> + +<p>Perhaps any woman would have felt what she felt when she saw the face +which seemed to laugh rejoicing into hers, as if Life were such a +supernal thing—as if it were literally the blessed gift of God as all +the ages have preached to us even while they have railed at the burden +of living and called it cruel nothingness. The radiance in the eyes' +clearness, the splendid strength and joy in being, could have built +themselves into nothing less than such beauty as this.</p> + +<p>Dowie looked at it in dead silence, her breast heaving fast.</p> + +<p>"Oh! blessed God!" she broke out with a gasp. "Did they kill—that!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robin, her voice scarcely more than a breath, "Donal."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + + +<p>Dowie put her to bed as she had done when she was a child, feeling as if +the days in the nursery had come back again. She saw gradually die out +of the white face the unnatural restraint which she had grieved over. It +had suggested the look of a girl who was not only desolate but afraid +and she wondered how long she had worn it and what she had been most +afraid of.</p> + +<p>In the depths of her comfortable being there lay hidden a maternal +pleasure in the nature of her responsibility. She had cared for young +mothers before, and that she should be called to watch over Robin, whose +child forlornness she had rescued, filled her heart with a glowing. As +she moved about the room quietly preparing for the comfort of the night +she knew that the soft dark of the lost eyes followed her and that it +was not quite so lost as it had looked in the church and on their +singularly silent journey.</p> + +<p>When her work was done and she turned to the bed again Robin's arms were +held out to her.</p> + +<p>"I want to kiss you, Dowie—I want to kiss you," she said with just the +yearning dwelling on the one word, which had so moved the good soul long +ago with its innocent suggestion of tender reverence for some sacred +rite.</p> + +<p>Dowie hurriedly knelt by the bedside.</p> + +<p>"Never you be frightened, my lamb—because you're so young and don't +know things," she whispered, holding her as if she were a baby. "Never +you let yourself be frightened for a moment. Your own Dowie's here and +always will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>—and Dowie knows all about it."</p> + +<p>"Until you took me on your knee to-night," very low and in broken +phrases, "I was so lonely. I was as lonely as I used to be in the old +nursery before you and Mademoiselle came. Afterwards—" with a shudder, +"there were so many long, long nights. There—always—will be so many. +One after every day. I lie in my bed in the dark. And there is +<i>Nothing</i>! Oh! Dowie, <i>let</i> me tell you!" her voice was a sweet longing +wail. "When Donal came back all the world was full and shining and warm! +It was full. There was no loneliness anywhere. We wanted nothing but +each other. And when he was gone there was only emptiness! And I was not +alive and I could not think. I can scarcely think now."</p> + +<p>"You'll begin to think soon, my lamb," Dowie whispered. "You've got +something to think of. After a while the emptiness won't be so big and +black."</p> + +<p>She ventured it very carefully. Her wise soul knew that the Emptiness +must come first—the awful world-old Emptiness which for an +endless-seeming time nothing can fill— And all smug preachers of the +claims of life and duty must be chary of approaching those who stand +desolate gazing into it.</p> + +<p>"I could only <i>remember</i>," the broken heart-wringing voice went on. "And +it seemed as if the remembering was killing me over and over again— It +is like that now. But in the Wood Lord Coombe said something +strange—which seemed to make me begin to think a little. Only it was +like beginning to try to write with a broken arm. I can't go on—I can +only think of Donal— And be lonely—lonely—lonely."</p> + +<p>The very words—the mere sound of them in her own ears made her voice +trail away into bitter helpless crying—which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> would not stop. It was the +awful weeping of utter woe and weakness whose convulsive sobs go on and +on until they almost cease to seem human sounds. Dowie's practical +knowledge told her what she had to face. This was what she had guessed +at when she had known that there had been crying in the night. Mere +soothing of the tenderest would not check it.</p> + +<p>"I had been lonely—always— And then the loneliness was gone. And +then—! If it had never gone—!"</p> + +<p>"I know, my dear, I know," said Dowie watching her with practised, +anxious eye. And she went away for a few moments and came back with an +unobtrusive calming draught and coaxed her into taking it and sat down +and prayed as she held the little hands which unknowingly beat upon the +pillow. Something of her steadiness and love flowed from her through her +own warm restraining palms and something in her tender steady voice +spoke for and helped her—though it seemed long and long before the +cruelty of the storm had lessened and the shadow of a body under the +bed-clothes lay deadly still and the heavy eyelids closed as if they +would never lift again.</p> + +<p>Dowie did not leave her for an hour or more but sat by her bedside and +watched. Like this had been the crying in the night. And she had been +alone.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As she sat and watched she thought deeply after her lights. She did not +think only of the sweet shattered thing she so well loved. She thought +much of Lord Coombe. Being a relic of a class which may be regarded as +forever extinct, her views on the subject of the rights and +responsibilities of rank were of an unswervi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>ng reverence verging on the +feudal. Even in early days her perfection of type was rare. To her +unwavering mind the remarkable story she had become a part of was almost +august in its subjection of ordinary views to the future of a great +house and its noble name. With the world falling to pieces and great +houses crumbling into nothingness, that this one should be rescued from +the general holocaust was a deed worthy of its head. But where was there +another man who would have done this thing as he had done it—remaining +totally indifferent to the ignominy which would fall upon his memory in +the years to come when the marriage was revealed. That the explanation +of his action would always be believed to be an unseemly and shameful +one was to her respectable serving-class mind a bitter thing. That it +would always be contemptuously said that a vicious elderly man had +educated the daughter of his mistress, that he might marry her and leave +an heir of her blooming youth, was almost worse than if he had been +known to have committed some decent crime like honest murder. Even the +servants' hall in the slice of a house, discussing the ugly whisper had +somewhat revolted at it and thought it "a bit too steep even for these +times." But he had plainly looked the whole situation in the face and +had made up his mind to do what he had done. He hadn't cared for +himself; he had only cared that the child who was to be born should be +his legitimatised successor and that there should remain after him a +Head of the House of Coombe. That such houses should have heads to +succeed to their dignities was a simple reverential belief of Dowie's +and—apart from all other feeling—the charge she had undertaken wore to +her somewhat the aspect of a religious duty. His lordship was as one +who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> had a place on a sort of altar.</p> + +<p>"It's because he's so high in his way that he can bear it," was her +thought. "He's so high that nothing upsets him. He's above +things—that's what he is." And there was something else too—something +she did not quite follow but felt vaguely moved by. What was happening +to England came into it—and something else that was connected with +himself in some way that was his own affair. In his long talk with her +he had said some strange things—though all in his own way.</p> + +<p>"Howsoever the tide of war turns, men and women will be needed as the +world never needed them before," was one of them. "This one small +unknown thing I want. It will be the child of my old age. I <i>want</i> it. +Her whole being has been torn to pieces. Dr. Redcliff says that she +might have died before this if her delicate body had not been stronger +than it looks."</p> + +<p>"She has never been ill, my lord," Dowie had answered, "—but she is ill +now."</p> + +<p>"Save her—save <i>it</i> for me," he broke out in a voice she had never +heard and with a face she had never seen.</p> + +<p>That in this plainly overwrought hour he should allow himself a moment +of forgetfulness drew him touchingly near to her.</p> + +<p>"My lord," she said, "I've watched over her since she was five. I know +the ways young things in her state need to have about them to give them +strength and help. Thank the Lord she's one of the loving ones and if we +can hold her until she—wakes up to natural feelings she'll begin to try +to live for the sake of what'll need her—and what's his as well as +hers."</p> + +<p>Of this she thought almost religiously as she sat by the bedside and +watched.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + + +<p>The doctor rode up the climbing moorland road the next morning and paid +a long visit to his patient. He was not portentous in manner and he did +not confine his conversation to the subject of symptoms. He however +included something of subtle cross examination in his friendly talk. The +girl's thinness, her sometimes panting breath and the hollow eyes made +larger by the black ring of her lashes startled him on first sight of +her. He found that the smallness of her appetite presented to Dowie a +grave problem.</p> + +<p>"I'm trying to coax good milk into her by degrees. She does her best. +But she can't eat." When they were alone she said, "I shall keep her +windows open and make her rest on her sofa near them. I shall try to get +her to walk out with me if her strength will let her. We can go slowly +and she'll like the moor. If we could stop the awful crying in the +night— It's been shaking her to pieces for weeks and weeks— It's the +kind that there's no checking when it once begins. It's beyond her poor +bit of strength to hold it back. I saw how hard she tried—for my sake. +It's the crying that's most dangerous of all."</p> + +<p>"Nothing could be worse," the doctor said and he went away with a grave +face, a deeply troubled man.</p> + +<p>When Dowie went back to the Tower room she found Robin standing at a +window looking out on the moorside. She turned and spoke and Dowie saw +that intuition had told her what had been talked about.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> +<p>"I will try to be good, Dowie," she said. "But it comes—it comes +because—suddenly I know all over again that I can never <i>see</i> him any +more. If I could only <i>see</i> him—even a long way off! But suddenly it +all comes back that I can never <i>see</i> him again—Never!"</p> + +<p>Later she begged Dowie not to come to her in the night if she heard +sounds in her room.</p> + +<p>"It will not hurt you so much if you don't see me," she said. "I'm used +to being by myself. When I was at Eaton Square I used to hide my face +deep in the pillow and press it against my mouth. No one heard. But no +one was listening as you will be. Don't come in, Dowie darling. Please +don't!"</p> + +<p>All she wanted, Dowie found out as the days went by, was to be quiet and +to give no trouble. No other desires on earth had been left to her. Her +life had not taught her to want many things. And now—:</p> + +<p>"Oh! please don't be unhappy! If I could only keep you from being +unhappy—until it is over!" she broke out all unconsciously one day. And +then was smitten to the heart by the grief in Dowie's face.</p> + +<p>That was the worst of it all and sometimes caused Dowie's desperate hope +and courage to tremble on the brink of collapse. The child was thinking +that before her lay the time when it would be "all over."</p> + +<p>A patient who held to such thoughts as her hidden comfort did not give +herself much chance.</p> + +<p>Sometimes she lay for long hours on the sofa by the open window but +sometimes a restlessness came upon her and she wandered about the empty +rooms of the little castle as though she were vaguely searching for +something which was not there. Dowie furtively followed her at a +distance knowing that she wanted to be alone. The wide stretches of the +moor seemed to draw her. At times she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>stood gazing at them out of a +window, sometimes she sat in a deep window seat with her hands lying +listlessly upon her lap but with her eyes always resting on the farthest +line of the heather. Once she sat thus so long that Dowie crept out of +the empty stone chamber where she had been waiting and went and stood +behind her. At first Robin did not seem conscious of her presence but +presently she turned her head. There was a faintly bewildered look in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why—when I look at the edge where the hill seems to +end—it always seems as if there might be something coming from the +place we can't see—" she said in a helpless-sounding voice. "We can +only see the sky behind as if the world ended there. But I feel as if +something might be coming from the other side. The horizon always looks +like that—now. There must be so much—where there seems to be nothing +more. I want to go."</p> + +<p>She tried to smile a little as though at her own childish fancifulness +but suddenly a heavy shining tear fell on her hand. And her head dropped +and she murmured, "I'm sorry, Dowie," as if it were a fault.</p> + +<p>The Macaurs watched her from afar with their own special order of silent +interest. But the sight of the slowly flitting and each day frailer +young body began to move them even to the length of low-uttered +expression of fear and pity.</p> + +<p>"Some days she fair frights me passing by so slow and thin in her bit +black dress," Maggy said. "She minds me o' a lost birdie fluttering +about wi' a broken wing. She's gey young she is, to be a widow +woman—left like that."</p> + +<p>The doctor came up the moor road every day and talked more to Dowie +than to his patient. As the weeks went by he c<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>ould not sanely be +hopeful. Dowie's brave face seemed to have lost some of its colour at +times. She asked eager questions but his answers did not teach her any +new thing. Yet he was of a modern school.</p> + +<p>"There was a time, Mrs. Dowson," he said, "when a doctor believed—or +thought he believed—that healing was carried in bottles. For thinking +men that time has passed. I know very little more of such a case as this +than you know yourself. You are practical and kind and watchful. You are +doing all that can be done. So am I. But I am sorry to say that it seems +as if only a sort of miracle—! If—as you said once—she would 'wake +up'—there would be an added chance."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Dowie answered. "If she would. But it seems as if her mind +has stopped thinking about things that are to come. You see it in her +face. She can only remember. The days are nothing but dreams to her."</p> + +<p>Dowie had written weekly letters to Lord Coombe in accordance with his +request. She wrote a good clear hand and her method was as clear as her +calligraphy. He invariably gathered from her what he most desired to +know and learned that her courageous good sense was plainly to be +counted upon. From the first her respectful phrases had not attempted to +conceal from him the anxiety she had felt.</p> + +<p>"It was the way she looked and that I hadn't expected to see such a +change, that took the strength out of me the first time I saw her. And +what your lordship had told me. It seemed as if the two things together +were too much for her to face. I watch over her day and night though I +try to hide from her that I watch so close. If she coul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>d be made to eat +something, and to sleep, and not to break her little body to pieces with +those dreadful fits of crying, there would be something to hold on to. +But I shall hold on to her, my lord, whether there is anything to hold +on to or not."</p> + +<p>He knew she would hold on but as the weeks passed and she faithfully +told him what record the days held he saw that in each she felt that she +had less and less to grasp. And then came a letter which plainly could +not conceal ominous discouragement in the face of symptoms not to be +denied—increasing weakness, even more rapid loss of weight, and less +sleep and great exhaustion after the convulsions of grief.</p> + +<p>"It couldn't go on and not bring on the worst. It is my duty to warn +your lordship," the letter ended.</p> + +<p>For she had not "wakened up" though somehow Dowie had gone on from day +to day wistfully believing that it would be only "Nature" that she +should. Dowie had always believed strongly in "Nature." But at last +there grew within her mind the fearsome thought that somehow the very +look of her charge was the look of a young thing who had done with +Nature—and between whom and Nature the link had been broken.</p> + +<p>There were beginning to be young lambs on the hillside and Jock Macaur +was tending them and their mothers with careful shepherding. Once or +twice he brought a newborn and orphaned one home wrapped in his plaid +and it was kept warm by the kitchen fire and fed with milk by Maggy to +whom motherless lambs were an accustomed care.</p> + +<p>There was no lamb in his plaid on the afternoon when he startled Dowie +by suddenly appearing at the door of the room where she sat sewing— It +was a thing which had never happened before. He had kept as closely to +his o<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>wn part of the place as if there had been no means of egress from +the rooms he and Maggy lived in. His face sometimes wore an anxious look +when he brought back a half-dead lamb, and now though his plaid was +empty his weather-beaten countenance had trouble in it—so much trouble +that Dowie left her work quickly.</p> + +<p>"I was oot o' the moor and I heard a lamb cryin'," he said uncertainly. +"I thought it had lost its mither. It was cryin' pitifu'. I searched an' +couldna find it. But the cryin' went on. It was waur than a lamb's cry— +It was waur—" he spoke in reluctant jerks. "I followed until I cam' to +it. There was a cluster o' young rowans with broom and gorse thick under +them. The cryin' was there. It was na a lamb cryin'. It was the young +leddy—lyin' twisted on the heather. I daurna speak to her. It was no +place for a man body. I cam' awa' to ye, Mistress Dowson. You an' Maggy +maun go to her. I'll follow an' help to carry her back, if ye need me."</p> + +<p>Dowie's colour left her.</p> + +<p>"I thought she was asleep on her bed," she said. "Sometimes she slips +away alone and wanders about a bit. But not far and I always follow her. +To-day I didn't know."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The sound like a lost lamb's crying had ceased when they reached her. +The worst was over but she lay on the heather shut in by the little +thicket of gorse and broom—white and with heavily closed lids. She had +not wandered far and had plainly crept into the enclosing growth for +utter seclusion. Finding it she had lost hold and been overwhelmed. +That was all. But as Jock Macaur ca<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>rried her back to Darreuch, Dowie +followed with slow heavy feet and heart. They took her to the Tower room +and laid her on her sofa because she had faintly whispered.</p> + +<p>"Please let me lie by the window," as they mounted the stone stairs.</p> + +<p>"Open it wide," she whispered again when Macaur had left them alone.</p> + +<p>"Are you—are you short of breath, my dear?" Dowie asked opening the +window very wide indeed.</p> + +<p>"No," still in a whisper and with closed eyes. "But—when I am not so +tired—I want to—look—"</p> + +<p>She was silent for a few moments and Dowie stood by her side and watched +her.</p> + +<p>"—At the end of the heather," the faint voice ended its sentence after +a pause. "I feel as if—something is there." She opened her eyes, +"Something—I don't know what. 'Something.' Dowie!" frightened, "Are +you—crying?"</p> + +<p>Dowie frankly and helplessly took out a handkerchief and sat down beside +her. She had never done such a thing before.</p> + +<p>"You cry yourself, my lamb," she said. "Let Dowie cry a bit."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + + +<p>And the next morning came the "waking up" for which Dowie had so long +waited and prayed. But not as Dowie had expected it or in the way she +hard thought "Nature."</p> + +<p>She had scarcely left her charge during the night though she had +pretended that she had slept as usual in an adjoining room. She stole in +and out, she sat by the bed and watched the face on the pillow and +thanked God that—strangely enough—the child slept. She had not dared +to hope that she would sleep, but before midnight she became still and +fell into a deep quiet slumber. It seemed deep, for she ceased to stir +and it was so quiet that once or twice Dowie became a little anxious and +bent over her to look at her closely and listen to her breathing. But, +though the small white face was always a touching sight, it was no +whiter than usual and her breathing though low and very soft was +regular.</p> + +<p>"But where the strength's to come from the good God alone knows!" was +Dowie's inward sigh.</p> + +<p>The clock had just struck one when she leaned forward again. What she +saw would not have disturbed her if she had not been overstrung by long +anxiety. But now—after the woeful day—in the middle of the night with +the echo of the clock's solitary sound still in the solitary room—in +the utter stillness of moor and castle emptiness she was startled almost +to fright. Something had happened to the pitiful face. A change had +come over it—not a change which had stolen gradually but a cha<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>nge which +was actually sudden. It was smiling—it had begun to smile that pretty +smile which was a very gift of God in itself.</p> + +<p>Dowie drew back and put her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she said "Can she +be—going—in her sleep?"</p> + +<p>But she was not going. Even Dowie's fright saw that in a few moments +more. Was it possible that a mist of colour was stealing over the +whiteness—or something near colour? Was the smile deepening and growing +brighter? Was that caught breath something almost like a little sob of a +laugh—a tiny ghost of a sound more like a laugh than any other sound on +earth?</p> + +<p>Dowie slid down upon her knees and prayed devoutly—clutching at the +robe of pity and holding hard—as women did in crowds nearly two +thousand years ago.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord Jesus," she was breathing behind the hands which hid her +face—"if she can dream what makes her smile like that, let her go on, +Lord Jesus—let her go on."</p> + +<p>When she rose to her chair again and seated herself to watch it almost +awed, it did not fade—the smile. It settled into a still radiance and +stayed. And, fearful of the self-deception of longing as she was, Dowie +could have sworn as the minutes passed that the mist of colour had been +real and remained also and even made the whiteness a less deathly thing. +And there was such a naturalness in the strange smiling that it radiated +actual peace and rest and safety. When the clock struck three and there +was no change and still the small face lay happy upon the pillow Dowie +at last even felt that she dare steal into her own room and lie down for +a short rest. She went very shortly thinking she would return in half an +hour at most, but the moment she lay down, her tired eyelids dropped +and she slept as she had not slept s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>ince her first night at Darreuch +Castle.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When she wakened it was not with a start or sense of anxiety even though +she found herself sitting up in the broad morning light. She wondered at +her own sense of being rested and really not afraid. She told herself +that it was all because of the smile she had left on Robin's face and +remembered as her own eyes closed.</p> + +<p>She got up and stole to the partly opened door of the next room and +looked in. All was quite still. Robin herself seemed very still but she +was awake. She lay upon her pillow with a long curly plait trailing over +one shoulder—and she was smiling as she had smiled in her +sleep—softly—wonderfully. "I thank God for that," Dowie thought as she +went in.</p> + +<p>The next moment her heart was in her throat.</p> + +<p>"Dowie," Robin said and she spoke as quietly as Dowie had ever heard her +speak in all their life together, "Donal came."</p> + +<p>"Did he, my lamb?" said Dowie going to her quickly but trying to speak +as naturally herself. "In a dream?"</p> + +<p>Robin slowly shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it was a dream. It wasn't like one. I think he was here. +God sometimes lets them come—just sometimes—doesn't he? Since the War +there have been so many stories about things like that. People used to +come to see the Duchess and sit and whisper about them. Lady Maureen +Darcy used to go to a place where there was a woman—quite a poor +woman—who went into a kind of sleep and gave her messages from her +husband who was killed at Liège only a few weeks after they were +married. The woman said he was in the room and Lady Maureen was quite +sure it was true because h<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>e told her true things no one knew but +themselves. She said it kept her from going crazy. It made her quite +happy."</p> + +<p>"I've heard of such things," said Dowie, valiantly determined to keep +her voice steady and her expression unalarmed. "Perhaps they are true. +Now that the other world is so crowded with those that found themselves +there sudden—perhaps they are crowded so close to earth that they try +to speak across to the ones that are longing to hear them. It might be. +Lie still, my dear, and I'll bring you a cup of good hot milk to drink. +Do you think you could eat a new-laid egg and a shred of toast?"</p> + +<p>"I will," answered Robin. "I <i>will</i>."</p> + +<p>She sat up in bed and the faint colour on her cheeks deepened and spread +like a rosy dawn. Dowie saw it and tried not to stare. She must not seem +to watch her too fixedly—whatsoever alarming thing was happening.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you all he said to me," she went on softly. "There was too +much that only belonged to us. He stayed a long time. I felt his arms +holding me. I looked into the blue of his eyes—just as I always did. He +was not dead. He was not an angel. He was Donal. He laughed and made me +laugh too. He could not tell me now where he was. There was a reason. +But he said he could come because we belonged to each other—because we +loved each other so. He said beautiful things to me—" She began to +speak very slowly as if in careful retrospection. "Some of them were +like the things Lord Coombe said. But when Donal said them they seemed +to go into my heart and I understood them. He told me things about +England—needing new souls and new strong bodies—he loved England. He +said be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>autiful—beautiful things."</p> + +<p>Dowie made a magnificent effort to keep her eyes clear and her look +straight. It was a soldierly thing to do, for there had leaped into her +mind memories of the fears of the great physician who had taken charge +of poor young Lady Maureen.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he would do that—sure of it," she said without a tremor in +her voice. "It's only things like that he's thought of his whole life +through. And surely it was love that brought him back to you—both."</p> + +<p>She wondered if she was not cautious enough in saying the last word. But +her fear was a mistake.</p> + +<p>"Yes—<i>both</i>," Robin gave back with a new high bravery. "Both," she +repeated. "He will never be dead again. And I shall never be dead. When +I could not think, it used to seem as if I must be—perhaps I was +beginning to go crazy like poor Lady Maureen. I have come alive."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lamb," answered Dowie with fine courage. "You look it. We'll +get you ready for your breakfast now. I will bring you the egg and +toast—a nice crisp bit of hot buttered toast."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robin. "He said he would come again and I know he will."</p> + +<p>Dowie bustled about with inward trembling. Whatsoever strange thing had +happened perhaps it had awakened the stunned instinct in the +girl—perhaps some change had begun to take place and she <i>would</i> eat +the bit of food. That would be sane and healthy enough in any case. The +test would be the egg and the crisp toast—the real test. Sometimes a +patient had a moment of uplift and then it died out too quickly to do +good.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> +<p>But when she had been made ready and the tray was brought Robin ate the +small breakfast without shrinking from it, and the slight colour did not +die away from her cheek. The lost look was in her eyes no more, her +voice had a new tone. The exhaustion of the night before seemed +mysteriously to have disappeared. Her voice was not tired and she +herself was curiously less languid. Dowie could scarcely believe the +evidence of her ears when, in the course of the morning, she suggested +that they should go out together.</p> + +<p>"The moor is beautiful to-day," she said. "I want to know it better. It +seems as if I had never really looked at anything."</p> + +<p>One of the chief difficulties Dowie often found she was called upon to +brace herself to bear was that in these days she looked so pathetically +like a child. Her small heart-shaped face had always been rather like a +baby's, but in these months of her tragedy, her youngness at times +seemed almost cruel. If she had been ten years old she could scarcely +have presented herself to the mature vision as a more touching thing. It +seemed incredible to Dowie that she should have so much of life and +suffering behind and before her and yet look like that. It was not only +the soft curve and droop of her mouth and the lift of her eyes—there +was added to these something as indescribable as it was heart-moving. It +was the thing before which Donal—boy as he was—had trembled with love +and joy. He had felt its tenderest sacredness when he had knelt before +her in the Wood and kissed her feet, almost afraid of his own voice when +he poured forth his pleading. There were times when Dowie was obliged to +hold herself still for a moment or so lest it should break down her +determined calm.</p> + +<p>It was to be faced this morning when Robin came down in her soft felt +hat and short tweed skirt and coat for walking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> Dowie saw Mrs. Macaur +staring through a window at her, with slightly open mouth, as if +suddenly struck with amazement which held in it a touch of shock. Dowie +herself was obliged to make an affectionate joke.</p> + +<p>"Your short skirts make such a child of you that I feel as if I was +taking you out to walk in the park, and I must hold your hand," she +said.</p> + +<p>Robin glanced down at herself.</p> + +<p>"They do make people look young," she agreed. "The Lady Downstairs +looked quite like a little girl when she went out in them. But it seems +so long since I was little."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>She walked with Dowie bravely though they did not go far from the +Castle. It happened that they met the doctor driving up the road which +twisted in and out among the heath and gorse. For a moment he looked +startled but he managed to control himself quickly and left his dogcart +to his groom so that he might walk with them. His eyes—at once grave +and keen—scarcely left her as he strolled by her side.</p> + +<p>When they reached the Castle he took Dowie aside and talked anxiously +with her.</p> + +<p>"There is a change," he said. "Has anything happened which might have +raised her spirits? It looks like that kind of thing. She mustn't do too +much. There is always that danger to guard against in a case of sudden +mental stimulation."</p> + +<p>"She had a dream last night," Dowie began.</p> + +<p>"A dream!" he exclaimed disturbedly. "What kind of dream?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> +<p>"The dream did it. I saw the change the minute I went to her this +morning," Dowie answered. "Last night she looked like a dying +thing—after one of her worst breakdowns. This morning she lay there +peaceful and smiling and almost rosy. She had dreamed that she saw her +husband and talked to him. She believed it wasn't a common dream—that +it wasn't a dream at all. She believes he really came to her."</p> + +<p>Doctor Benton rubbed his chin and there was serious anxiety in the +movement. Lines marked themselves on his forehead.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure I like that—not at all sure. In fact I'm sure I don't +like it. One can't say what it may lead to. It would be better not to +encourage her to dwell on it, Mrs. Dowson."</p> + +<p>"The one thing that's in my mind, sir," Dowie's respectfulness actually +went to the length of hinting at firmness—"is that it's best not to +<i>dis</i>courage her about anything just now. It brought a bit of natural +colour to her cheeks and it made her eat her breakfast—which she hasn't +been able to do before. They <i>must</i> be fed, sir," with the seriousness +of experience. "You know that better than I do."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes. They must have food."</p> + +<p>"She suggested the going out herself," said Dowie. "I'd thought she'd be +too weak and listless to move. And they <i>ought</i> to have exercise."</p> + +<p>"They <i>must</i> have exercise," agreed Doctor Benton, but he still rubbed +his chin. "Did she seem excited or feverish?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, she didn't. That was the strange thing. It was me that was +excited though I kept quiet on the outside. At first it frightened me. I +was afraid of—what you're afraid of, sir. It was only her <i>not</i> being +excited—and speaking in her own natural voice that helped me to behave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +as sense told me I ought to. She was <i>happy</i>—that's what she looked and +what she was."</p> + +<p>She stopped a moment here and looked at the man. Then she decided to go +on because she saw chances that he might, to a certain degree, +understand.</p> + +<p>"When she told me that he was not dead when she saw him, she said that +she was not dead any more herself—that she had come alive. If believing +it will keep her feeling alive, sir, wouldn't you say it would be a +help?"</p> + +<p>The Doctor had ceased rubbing his chin but he looked deeply thoughtful. +He had several reasons for thoughtfulness in connection with the matter. +In the present whirl of strange happenings in a mad war-torn world, +circumstances which would once have seemed singular seemed so no longer +because nothing was any longer normal. He realised that he had been by +no means told all the details surrounding this special case, but he had +understood clearly that it was of serious importance that this girlish +creature's child should be preserved. He wondered how much more the +finely mannered old family nurse knew than he did.</p> + +<p>"Her vitality must be kept up— Nothing could be worse than inordinate +grief," he said. "We must not lose any advantage. But she must be +closely watched."</p> + +<p>"I'll watch her, sir," answered Dowie. "And every order you give I'll +obey like clockwork. Might I take the liberty of saying that I believe +it'll be best if you don't mention the dream to her!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right. On the whole I think you are. It's not wise to +pay attention to hallucinations."</p> + +<p>He did not mention the dream to Robin, but his visit was longer than +usual. After it he drove down the moor thinking of c<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>urious things. The +agonised tension of the war, he told himself, seemed to be developing +new phases—mental, nervous, psychic, as well as physiological. What +unreality—or previously unknown reality—were they founded upon? It was +curious how much one had begun to hear of telepathy and visions. He +himself had been among the many who had discussed the psychopathic +condition of Lady Maureen Darcy, whose black melancholia had been +dispersed like a cloud after her visits to a little sewing woman who +lived over an oil dealer's shop in the Seven Sisters Road. He also was a +war tortured man mentally and the torments he must conceal beneath a +steady professional calm had loosened old shackles.</p> + +<p>"Good God! If there is help of any sort for such horrors of despair let +them take it where they find it," he found himself saying aloud to the +emptiness of the stretches of heath and bracken. "The old nurse will +watch."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dowie watched faithfully. She did not speak of the dream, but as she +went about doing kindly and curiously wise things she never lost sight +of any mood or expression of Robin's and they were all changed ones. On +the night after she had "come alive" they talked together in the Tower +room somewhat as they had talked on the night of their arrival.</p> + +<p>A wind was blowing on the moor and making strange sounds as it whirled +round the towers and seemed to cry at the narrow windows. By the fire +there was drawn a broad low couch heaped with large cushions, and Robin +lay upon them looking into the red hollow of coal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You told me I had something to think of," she said. "I am thinking now. +I shall always be thinking."</p> + +<p>"That's right, my dear," Dowie answered her with sane kindliness.</p> + +<p>"I will do everything you tell me, Dowie. I will not cry any more and I +will eat what you ask me to eat. I will sleep as much as I can and I +will walk every day. Then I shall get strong."</p> + +<p>"That's the way to look at things. It's a brave way," Dowie answered. +"What we want most is strength and good spirits, my dear."</p> + +<p>"That was one of the things Donal said," Robin went on quite naturally +and simply. "He told me I need not be ill. He said a rose was not ill +when a new bud was blooming on it. That was one of the lovely things he +told me. There were so many."</p> + +<p>"It was a beautiful thing, to be sure," said Dowie.</p> + +<p>To her wholly untranscendental mind, long trained by patent facts and +duties, any suggestion of the occult was vaguely ominous. She had spent +her early years among people who regarded such things with terror. In +the stories of her youth those who saw visions usually died or met with +calamity. That their visions were, as a rule, gruesome and included pale +and ghastly faces and voices hollow with portent was now a supporting +recollection. "He was not dead. He was not an angel. He was Donal," +Robin had said in her undoubting voice. And she had stood the test—that +real test of earthly egg and buttered toast. Dowie was a sensible and +experienced creature and had been prepared before the doctor's +suggestion to lose no advantage. If the child began to sleep and eat her +food, and the fits of crying could be controlled, why should she not be +allowed to believe what supported her? When her baby came she'd forget<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +less natural things. Dowie knew how her eyes would look as she bent over +it—how they would melt and glow and brood and how her childish mouth +would quiver with wonder and love. Who knew but that the Lord himself +had sent her that dream to comfort her because she had always been such +a loving, lonely little thing with nothing but tender goodness in her +whole body and soul? She had never had an untender thought of anybody +but for that queer dislike to his lordship— And when you came to think +of what had been forced into her innocent mind about him, who +wondered?— And she was beginning to see that <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: The original text was "dif-erent"">differently</ins> too, in these strange days. She was nothing now but softness +and sorrow. It seemed only right that some pity should be shown to her.</p> + +<p>Dowie noticed that she did not stay up late that night and that when she +went to bed she knelt a long time by her bedside saying her prayers. Oh! +What a little girl she looked, Dowie thought,—in her white night gown +with her long curly plait hanging down her back tied with a blue ribbon! +And she to be the mother of a child—that was no more than one herself!</p> + +<p>When all the prayers were ended and Dowie came back to the room to tuck +her in, her face was marvellously still-looking and somehow remotely +sweet as if she had not quite returned from some place of wonderful +calm.</p> + +<p>She nestled into the softness of the pillow with her hand under her +cheek and her lids dropped quietly at once.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Dowie dear," she murmured. "I am going to sleep."</p> + +<p>To sleep in a moment or so Dowie saw she went—with the soft suddenness +of a baby in its cradle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>But it could not be said that Dowie slept soon. She found herself lying +awake listening to the wind whirling and crying round the tower. The +sound had something painfully human in it which made her conscious of a +shivering inward tremor.</p> + +<p>"It sounds as if something—that has been hurt and is cold and lonely +wants to get in where things are human and warm," was her troubled +thought.</p> + +<p>It was a thought so troubled that she could not rest and in spite of her +efforts to lie still she turned from side to side listening in an +abnormal mood.</p> + +<p>"I'm foolish," she whispered. "If I don't get hold of myself I shall +lose my senses. I don't feel like myself. Would it be too silly if I got +up and opened a tower window?"</p> + +<p>She actually got out of her bed quietly and crept to the tower room and +opened one. The crying wind rushed in and past her with a soft cold +sweep. It was not a bitter wind, only a piteous one.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's come in," she said, quaking a little, and went back to her +bed.</p> + +<p>When she awakened in the morning she realised that she must have fallen +asleep as quickly as Robin had, for she remembered nothing after her +head had touched the pillow. The wind had ceased and the daylight found +her herself again.</p> + +<p>"It was silly," she said, "but it did something for me as silliness will +sometimes. Walls and shut windows are nothing to them. If he came, he +came without my help. But it pacified the foolish part of me."</p> + +<p>She went into Robin's room with a sense of holding her breath, but firm +in her determination to breathe and speak as a matter of fact woman +should.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> +<p>Robin was standing at her window already dressed in the short skirt and +soft hat. She turned and showed that her thin small face was radiant.</p> + +<p>"I have been out on the moor. I wakened just after sunrise, and I heard +a skylark singing high up in the sky. I went out to listen and say my +prayers," she said. "You don't know what the moor is like, Dowie, until +you stand out on it at sunrise."</p> + +<p>She met Dowie's approach half way and slipped her arms round her neck +and kissed her several times. Dowie had for a moment quailed before a +thought that she looked too much like a young angel, but her arms held +close and her kisses were warm and human.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" Dowie's pats on her shoulder took courage. "That's a good +sign—to get up and dress yourself and go into the open air. It would +give you an appetite if anything would."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can eat two eggs this morning," with a pretty laugh. +"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" and she took off her hat and laid it aside +on the lounge as if she meant to go out again soon.</p> + +<p>Dowie tried not to watch her too obviously, but she could scarcely keep +her eyes from her. She knew that she must not ask her questions at the +risk of "losing an advantage." She had, in fact, never been one of the +women who must ask questions. There was however something eerie in +remembering her queer feeling about the crying of the wind, silly though +she had decided it to be, and something which made it difficult to go +about all day knowing nothing but seeing strange signs. She had been +more afraid for Robin than she would have admitted even to herself. And +when the girl sat down at the table by the window overlooking the moor +and ate her breakfast without effort or distaste, it was far from easy +to look quite as if she had been doing it every morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then there was the look in her eyes, as if she was either listening to +something or remembering it. She went out twice during the day and she +carried it with her even when she talked of other things. Dowie saw it +specially when she lay down on the big lounge to rest. But she did not +lie down often or long at a time. It was as though she was no longer +unnaturally tired and languid. She did little things for herself, moving +about naturally, and she was pleased when a messenger brought flowers, +explaining that his lordship had ordered that they should be sent every +other day from the nearest town. She spent an hour filling crystal bowls +and clear slim vases with them and the look never left her.</p> + +<p>But she said nothing until she went out with Dowie at sunset. They only +walked for a short time and they did not keep to the road but went on to +the moor itself and walked among the heath and bracken. After a little +while they sat down and gave themselves up to the vast silence with here +and there the last evening twitter of a bird in it. The note made the +stillness greater. The flame of the sky was beyond compare and, after +gazing at it for a while, Dowie turned a slow furtive look on Robin.</p> + +<p>But Robin was looking at her with clear soft naturalness—loving and +untroubled and kindly sweet.</p> + +<p>"He came back, Dowie. He came again," she said. And her voice was still +as natural as the good woman had ever known it.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + + +<p>But even after this Dowie did not ask questions. She only watched more +carefully and waited to be told what the depths of her being most +yearned to hear. The gradually founded belief of her careful prosaic +life prevented ease of mind or a sense of security. She could not be +certain that it would be the part of wisdom to allow herself to feel +secure. She did not wish to arouse Doctor Benton's professional anxiety +by asking questions about Lady Maureen Darcy, but, by a clever and +adroitly gradual system of what was really cross examination which did +not involve actual questions, she drew from him the name of the woman +who had been Lady Maureen's chief nurse when the worst seemed impending. +It was by fortunate chance the name of a woman she had once known well +during a case of dangerous illness in an important household. She +herself had had charge of the nursery and Nurse Darian had liked her +because she had proved prompt and intelligent in an alarming crisis. +They had become friends and Dowie knew she might write to her and ask +for information and advice. She wrote a careful respectful letter which +revealed nothing but that she was anxious about a case she had temporary +charge of. She managed to have the letter posted in London and the +answer forwarded to her from there. Nurse Darian's reply was generously +full for a hard-working woman. It answered questions and was friendly. +But the woman's war work had plainly led her to see and reflect upon +the ope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>ning up of new and singular vistas.</p> + +<p>"What we hear oftenest is that the whole world is somehow changing," she +ended by saying. "You hear it so often that you get tired. But something +<i>is</i> happening—something strange— Even the doctors find themselves +facing things medical science does not explain. They don't like it. I +sometimes think doctors hate change more than anybody. But the cleverest +and biggest ones talk together. It's this looking at a thing lying on a +bed alive and talking perhaps, one minute—and <i>gone out</i> the next, that +sets you asking yourself questions. In these days a nurse seems to see +nothing else day and night. You can't make yourself believe they have +gone far— And when you keep hearing stories about them coming +back—knocking on tables, writing on queer boards—just any way so that +they can get at those they belong to—! Well, I shouldn't be sure myself +that a comforting dream means that a girl's mind's giving away. Of +course a nurse is obliged to watch—But Lady Maureen found +<i>something</i>—And she <i>was</i> going mad and now she is as sane as I am."</p> + +<p>Dowie was vaguely supported because the woman was an intelligent person +and knew her business thoroughly. Nevertheless one must train one's eyes +to observe everything without seeming to do so at all.</p> + +<p>Every morning when the weather was fine Robin got up early and went out +on the moor to say her prayers and listen to the skylarks singing.</p> + +<p>"When I stand and turn my face up to the sky—and watch one going higher +into heaven—and singing all the time without stopping," she said, "I +feel as if the singing were carrying what I want to say with it. +Sometimes he goes so high that you can't see him any mo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>re— He's not +even a little speck in the highest sky— Then I think perhaps he has +gone in and taken my prayer with him. But he always comes back. And +perhaps if I could understand he could tell me what the answer is."</p> + +<p>She ate her breakfast each day and was sweetly faithful to her promise +to Dowie in every detail. Dowie used to think that she was like a child +who wanted very much to learn her lesson well and follow every rule.</p> + +<p>"I want to be good, Dowie," she said once. "I should like to be very +good. I am so <i>grateful</i>."</p> + +<p>Doctor Benton driving up the moor road for his daily visits made careful +observation of every detail of her case and pondered in secret. The +alarming thinness and sharpening of the delicate features was he saw, +actually becoming less marked day by day; the transparent hands were +less transparent; the movements were no longer languid.</p> + +<p>"She spends most of the day out of doors when the weather's decent," +Dowie said. "She eats what I give her. And she sleeps."</p> + +<p>Doctor Benton asked many questions and the answers given seemed to +provide him with food for reflection.</p> + +<p>"Has she spoken of having had the dream again?" he inquired at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," was Dowie's brief reply.</p> + +<p>"Did she say it was the same dream?"</p> + +<p>"She told me her husband had come back. She said nothing more."</p> + +<p>"Has she told you that more than once?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> +<p>"No, sir. Only once so far."</p> + +<p>Doctor Benton looked at the sensible face very hard. He hesitated before +he put his next question.</p> + +<p>"But you think she has seen him since she spoke to you? You feel that +she might speak of it again—at almost any time?"</p> + +<p>"She might, sir, and she might not. It may seem like a sacred thing to +her. And it's no business of mine to ask her about things she'd perhaps +rather not talk about."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that she believes that she sees her husband every night?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know <i>what</i> I think, sir," said Dowie in honourable distress.</p> + +<p>"Well neither do I for that matter," Benton answered brusquely. "Neither +do thousands of other people who want to be honest with themselves. +Physically the effect of this abnormal fancy is excellent. If this goes +on she will end by being in a perfectly normal condition."</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm working for, sir," said Dowie.</p> + +<p>Whereupon Dr. Benton went away and thought still stranger and deeper +things as he drove home over the moor road which twisted through the +heather.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The next day's post delivered by Macaur himself brought as it did weekly +a package of books and carefully chosen periodicals. Robin had, before +this, not been equal even to looking them over and Dowie had arranged +them neatly on shelves in the Tower room.</p> + +<p>To-day when the package was opened Robin sat down near the table on +which they were placed and began to look at them.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<p>Out of the corner of her eye as she arranged books decorously on a shelf +Dowie saw the still transparent hand open first one book and then +another. At last it paused at a delicately coloured pamphlet. It was the +last alluring note of modern advertisement, sent out by a firm which +made a specialty of children's outfits and belongings. It came from an +elect and expensive shop which prided itself on its dainty presentation +of small beings attired in entrancing garments such as might have been +designed for fairies and elves.</p> + +<p>"If she begins to turn over the pages she'll go on. It'll be just +Nature," Dowie yearned.</p> + +<p>The awakening she had thought Nature would bring about was not like the +perilous miracle she had seen take place and had watched tremulously +from hour to hour. Dreams, however much one had to thank God for them, +were not exactly "Nature." They were not the blessed healing and +strengthening she felt familiar with. You were never sure when they +might melt away into space and leave only emptiness behind them.</p> + +<p>"But if she would wake up the other way it would be healthy—just +healthy and to be depended upon," was her thought. Robin turned over the +leaves in no hurried way. She had never carelessly turned over the +leaves of her picture books in her nursery. As she had looked at her +picture books she looked at this one. There were pages given to the +tiniest and most exquisite things of all, and it was the illustrations +of these, Dowie's careful sidelong eye saw she had first been attracted +by.</p> + +<p>"These are for very little—ones?" she said presently.</p> + +<p>"Yes. For the new ones," answered Dowie.</p> + +<p>There was moment or so of silence.</p> + +<p>"How little—how little!" Robin said softly. She rose softly and went +to her couch and lay down on it. She was very qu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>iet and Dowie wondered +if she were thinking or if she were falling into a doze. She wished she +had looked at the pamphlet longer. As the weeks had gone by Dowie had +even secretly grieved a little at her seeming unconsciousness of certain +tender things. If she had only looked at it a little longer.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Was there a sound of movement in the next room?"</p> + +<p>The thought awakened Dowie in the night. She did not know what the hour +was, but she was sure of the sound as soon as she was fully awake. Robin +had got up and was crossing the corridor to the Tower room.</p> + +<p>"Does she want something? What could she want? I must go to her."</p> + +<p>She must never quite lose sight of her or let her be entirely out of +hearing. Perhaps she was walking in her sleep. Perhaps the dream— Dowie +was a little awed. Was he with her? In obedience to a weird impulse she +always opened a window in the Tower room every night before going to +bed. She had left it open to-night.</p> + +<p>It was still open when she entered the room herself.</p> + +<p>There was nothing unusual in the aspect of the place but that Robin was +there and it was just midnight. She was not walking in her sleep. She +was awake and standing by the table with the pamphlet in her hand.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't go to sleep," she said. "I kept thinking of the little +things in this book. I kept seeing them."</p> + +<p>"That's quite natural," Dowie answered. "Sit down and look at them a +bit. That'll satisfy you and you'll sleep easy enough. I must shut the +window for you."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> +<p>She shut the window and moved a book or so as if such things were +usually done at midnight. She went about in a quiet matter-of-fact way +which was even gentler than her customary gentleness because in these +days, while trying to preserve a quite ordinary demeanour, she felt as +though she must move as one would move in making sure that one would not +startle a bird one loved.</p> + +<p>Robin sat and looked at the pictures. When she turned a page and looked +at it she turned it again and looked at it with dwelling eyes. Presently +she ceased turning pages and sat still with the book open on her lap as +if she were thinking not only of what she held but of something else.</p> + +<p>When her eyes lifted to meet Dowie's there was a troubled wondering look +in them.</p> + +<p>"It's so strange—I never seemed to think of it before," the words came +slowly. "I forgot because I was always—remembering."</p> + +<p>"You'll think now," Dowie answered. "It's only Nature."</p> + +<p>"Yes—it's only Nature."</p> + +<p>The touch of her hand on the pamphlet was a sort of caress—it was a +touch which clung.</p> + +<p>"Dowie," timidly. "I want to begin to make some little clothes like +these. Do you think I can?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," answered Dowie composedly—no less so because it was +past midnight and the stillness of moor and deserted castle rooms was +like a presence in itself. "I taught you to sew very neatly before you +were twelve. You liked to do it and you learned to make beautiful small +stitches. And Mademoiselle taught you to do fine embroidery. She'd +learned it in a convent herself and I never saw finer work anywhere."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> +<p>"I did like to do it," said Robin. "I never seemed to get tired of +sitting in my little chair in the bay window where the flowers grew, and +making tiny stitches."</p> + +<p>"You had a gift for it. Not all girls have," said Dowie. "Sometimes when +you were embroidering a flower you didn't want to leave it to take your +walk."</p> + +<p>"I am glad I had a gift," Robin took her up. "You see I want to make +these little things with my own hands. I don't want them sent up from +London. I don't want them bought. Look at this, Dowie."</p> + +<p>Dowie went to her side. Her heart was quickening happily as it beat.</p> + +<p>Robin touched a design with her finger.</p> + +<p>"I should like to begin by making that," she suggested. "Do you think +that if I bought one for a pattern I could copy it?"</p> + +<p>Dowie studied it with care.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "You could copy it and make as many more as you liked. +They need a good many."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that," said Robin. "I should like to make a great many." +The slim fingers slid over the page. "I should like to make that +one—and that—and that." Her face, bent over the picture, wore its +touching <i>young</i> look thrilled with something new. "They are so +<i>pretty</i>—they are so pretty," she murmured like a dove.</p> + +<p>"They're the prettiest things in the world," Dowie said. "There never +was anything prettier."</p> + +<p>"It must be wonderful to make them and to know all the time you are +putting in the tiny stitches, that they are for something little—and +warm—and alive!"</p> + +<p>"Those that have done it never forget it," said Dowie. Robin lifted her +face, but her hands still held the book with th<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>e touch which clung.</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to realise what a strange life mine has been," she said. +"Don't you think it has, Dowie? I haven't known things. I didn't know +what mothers were. I never knew another child until I met Donal in the +Gardens. No one had ever kissed me until he did. When I was older I +didn't know anything about love and marrying—really. It seemed only +something one read about in books until Donal came. You and Mademoiselle +made me happy, but I was like a little nun." She paused a moment and +then said thoughtfully, "Do you know, Dowie, I have never touched a +baby?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of it before," Dowie answered with a slightly caught +breath, "but I believe you never have."</p> + +<p>The girl leaned forward and her own light breath came a shade more +quickly, and the faint colour on her cheek flickered into a sweeter warm +tone.</p> + +<p>"Are they very soft, Dowie?" she asked—and the asking was actually a +wistful thing. "When you hold them do they feel very light—and +soft—and warm? When you kiss them isn't it something like kissing a +little flower?"</p> + +<p>"That's what it is," said Dowie firmly as one who knows. "A baby that's +loved and taken care of is just nothing but fine soft lawns and white +downiness with the scent of fresh violets under leaves in the rain."</p> + +<p>A vaguely dreamy smile touched Robin's face and she bent over the +pictures again.</p> + +<p>"I felt as if they must be like that though I had never held one," she +murmured. "And Donal—told me." She did not say when he had told her but +Dowie knew. And unearthly as the thing was, regarded from her +standpoint,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> she was not frightened, because she said mentally to +herself, what was happening was downright healthy and no harm could come +of it. She felt safe and her mind was at ease even when Robin shut the +little book and placed it on the table again.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to bed again," she said. "I shall sleep now."</p> + +<p>"To be sure you will," Dowie said.</p> + +<p>And they went out of the Tower room together, but before she followed +her Dowie slipped aside and quietly opened the window.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + + +<p>Coombe House had been transformed into one of the most practical nursing +homes in London. The celebrated ballroom and picture gallery were filled +with cots; a spacious bedroom had become a perfectly equipped operating +room; nurses and doctors moved everywhere with quiet swiftness. Things +were said to be marvellously well done because Lord Coombe himself held +reins which diplomatically guided and restrained amateurishness and +emotional infelicities.</p> + +<p>He spent most of his time, when he was in the house, in the room on the +entrance floor where Mademoiselle had found him when she had come to him +in her search for Robin.</p> + +<p>He had faced ghastly hours there as the war news struck its hideous +variant note from day to day. Every sound which rolled through the +street had its meaning for him, and there were few which were not +terrible. They all meant inhuman struggle, inhuman suffering, inhuman +passions, and wounds or death. He carried an unmoved face and a +well-held head through the crowded thoroughfares. The men in the cots in +his picture gallery and his ballroom were the better for the outward +calm he brought when he sat and talked to them, but he often hid a mad +fury in his breast or a heavy and sick fatigue.</p> + +<p>Even in London a man saw and heard and was able, if he had an +imagination, to visualise too much to remain quite normal. He had seen +what was left of strong men brought back from the Front, men who could +scarcely longer <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>be counted as really living human beings; he had talked +to men on leave who had a hideous hardness in their haggard eyes and who +did not know that they gnawed at their lips sometimes as they told the +things they had seen. He saw the people going into the churches and +chapels. He sometimes went into such places himself and he always found +there huddled forms kneeling in the pews, even when no service was being +held. Sometimes they were men, sometimes women, and often they writhed +and sobbed horribly. He did not know why he went in; his going seemed +only part of some surging misery.</p> + +<p>He heard weird stories again and again of occult happenings. He had been +told all the details of Lady Maureen's case and of a number of other +cases somewhat resembling it. He was of those who have advanced through +experience to the point where entire disbelief in anything is not easy. +This was the more so because almost all previously accepted laws had +been shaken as by an earthquake. He had fallen upon a new sort of book +drifting about. He had had such books put into his hands by +acquaintances, some of whom were of the impressionable hysteric order, +but many of whom were as analytically minded as himself. He found much +of such literature in the book shops. He began to look over the best +written and ended by reading them with deep attention. He was amazed to +discover that for many years profoundly scientific men had been +seriously investigating and experimenting with mysteries unexplainable +by the accepted laws of material science. They had discussed, argued and +written grave books upon them. They had been doing all this before any +society for psychical research had founded itself and the intention of +new logic was to be scientific rather than psychologi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>cal. They had +written books, scattered through the years, on mesmerism, hypnosis, +abnormal mental conditions, the powers of suggestion, even unexplored +dimensions and in modern days psychotherapeutics.</p> + +<p>"What has amazed me is my own ignorance of the prolonged and serious +nature of the investigation of an astonishing subject," he said in +talking with the Duchess. "To realise that analytical minds have been +doing grave work of which one has known nothing is an actual shock to +one's pride. I suppose the tendency would have been to pooh-pooh it. The +cheap, modern popular form is often fantastic and crude, but there +remains the fact that it all contains truths not to be explained by the +rules we have always been familiar with."</p> + +<p>The Duchess had read the book he had brought her and held it in her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the time has come, in which we are to learn the new ones," she +said.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we are being forced to learn them—as a result of our +pooh-poohing," was his answer. "Some of us may learn that clear-cut +disbelief is at least indiscreet."</p> + +<p>Therefore upon a certain morning he sat long in reflection over a letter +which had arrived from Dowie. He read it a number of times.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I don't know what your lordship may think," Dowie said and he felt she +held herself with a tight rein. "If I may say so, it's what's going to +come out of it that matters and not what any of us think of it. So far +it seems as if a miracle had happened. About a week ago she wakened in +the morning looking as I'd been afraid she'd n<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>ever look again. There was +actually colour in her thin little face that almost made it look not so +thin. There was a light in her eyes that quite startled me. She lay on +her bed and smiled like a child that's suddenly put out of pain. She +said—quite quiet and natural—that she'd seen her husband. She said he +had <i>come</i> and talked to her a long time and that it was not a dream, +and he was not an angel—he was himself. At first I was terrified by a +dreadful thought that her poor young mind had given way. But she had no +fever and she was as sweet and sensible as if she was talking to her +Dowie in her own nursery. And, my lord, this is what does matter. She +sat up and <i>ate her breakfast</i> and said she would take a walk with me. +And walk she did—stronger and better than I'd have believed. She had a +cup of tea and a glass of milk and a fresh egg and a slice of hot +buttered toast. That's what I hold on to, my lord—without any thinking. +I daren't write about it at first because I didn't trust it to last. But +she has wakened in the same way every morning since. And she's eaten the +bits of nice meals I've put before her. I've been careful not to put her +appetite off by giving her more than a little at a time. And she's slept +like a baby and walked every day. I believe she thinks she sees Captain +Muir every night. I wouldn't ask questions, but she spoke of it once +again to me.</p> + +<p> +"Your obedient servant,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sarah Ann Dowson</span>."<br /> +</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe sat in interested reflection. He felt curiously uplifted +above the rolling sounds in the street and the headlines of the pile of +newspapers on the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If it had not been for the tea and egg and buttered toast she would +have been sure the poor child was mad." He thought it out. "An egg and a +slice of buttered toast guarantee even spiritual things. Why not? We are +material creatures who have only material sight and touch and taste to +employ as arguments. I suppose that is why tables are tipped, and banjos +fly about for beginners. It's because we cannot see other things, and +what we cannot see— Oh! fools that we are! The child said he was not an +angel—he was himself. Why not? Where did he come from? Personally I +believe that he <i>came</i>."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + + +<p>"It was Lord Coombe who sent the book," said Robin.</p> + +<p>She was sitting in the Tower room, watching Dowie open the packages +which had come from London. She herself had opened the one which held +the models and she was holding a tiny film of lawn and fine embroidery +in her hands. Dowie could see that she was quite unconscious that she +loosely held it against her breast as if she were nursing it.</p> + +<p>"It's his lordship's way to think of things," the discreet answer came +impersonally.</p> + +<p>Robin looked slowly round the small and really quite wonderful room.</p> + +<p>"You know I said that, the first night we came here."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Dowie answered.</p> + +<p>Robin turned her eyes upon her. They were no longer hollowed, but they +still looked much too large.</p> + +<p>"Dowie," she said. "He <i>knows</i> things."</p> + +<p>"He always did," said Dowie. "Some do and some don't."</p> + +<p>"He <i>knows</i> things—as Donal does. The secret things you can't talk +about—the meaning of things."</p> + +<p>She went on as if she were remembering bit by bit. "When we were in the +Wood in the dark, he said the first thing that made my mind begin to +move—almost to think. That was because he <i>knew</i>. Knowing things made +him send the book."</p> + +<p>The fact was that he knew much of which it was not possible for him to +speak, and in passing a shop window he had been fa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>ntastically arrested +by a mere pair of small sleeves—the garment to which they belonged +having by chance so fallen that they seemed to be tiny arms holding +themselves out in surrendering appeal. They had held him a moment or so +staring and then he had gone into the shop and asked for their +catalogue.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he knew," Dowie replied.</p> + +<p>A letter had been written to London signed by Dowie and the models and +patterns had been sent to the village and brought to the castle by Jock +Macaur. Later there had come rolls of fine flannel and lawn, with +gossamer thread and fairy needles and embroidery floss. Then the sewing +began.</p> + +<p>Doctor Benton had gradually begun to look forward to his daily visits +with an interest stimulated by a curiosity become eager. The most casual +looker-on might have seen the change taking place in his patient day by +day and he was not a casual looker-on. Was the improvement to be relied +upon? Would the mysterious support suddenly fail them?</p> + +<p>"What in God's name should we do if it did?" he broke out unconsciously +aloud one day when Dowie and he were alone together.</p> + +<p>"If it did what, sir?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"If it stopped—the dream?"</p> + +<p>Dowie understood. By this time she knew that, when he asked questions, +took notes and was professionally exact, he had ceased to think of Robin +merely as a patient. She had touched him in some unusual way which had +drawn him within the circle of her innocent woe. He was under the spell +of her pathetic youngness which made Dowie herself feel as if they were +watching over a child called upon to bear something it was unnatur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>al for +a child to endure.</p> + +<p>"It won't stop," she said obstinately, but she lost her ruddy colour +because she was not sure.</p> + +<p>But after the sewing began there grew up within her a sort of courage. A +girl whose material embodiment has melted away until she has worn the +aspect of a wraith is not restored to normal bloom in a week. But what +Dowie seemed to see was the lamp of life relighted and the first +flickering flame strengthening to a glow. The hands which fitted +together on the table in the Tower room delicate puzzles in bits of lawn +and paper, did not in these days tremble with weakness. Instead of the +lost look there had returned to the young doe's eyes the pretty trusting +smile. The girl seemed to smile as if to herself nearly all the time, +Dowie thought, and often she broke into a happy laugh at her own small +blunders—and sometimes only at the sweet littleness of the things she +was making.</p> + +<p>One fact revealed itself clearly to Dowie, which was that she had lost +all sense of the aspect which the dream must wear to others than +herself. This was because there had been no others than Dowie who had +uttered no suggestion of doubt and had never touched upon the subject +unless it had been first broached by Robin herself. She had hidden her +bewilderment and anxieties and had outwardly accepted the girl's own +acceptance of the situation.</p> + +<p>Of the incident of the sewing Lord Coombe had been informed later with +other details.</p> + +<p>"She sits and sews and sews," wrote Dowie. "She sewed beautifully even +before she was out of the nursery. I have never seen a picture of a +little saint sewing. If I had, perhaps I should say she looked like +it."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> +<p>Coombe read the letter to his old friend at Eaton Square.</p> + +<p>There was a pause as he refolded it. After the silence he added as out +of deep thinking, "I wish that I could see her."</p> + +<p>"So do I," the Duchess said. "So do I. But if I were to go to her, +questioning would begin at once."</p> + +<p>"My going to Darreuch would attract no attention. It never did after the +first year. But she has not said she wished to see me. I gave my word. I +shall never see her again unless she asks me to come. She does not need +me. She has Donal."</p> + +<p>"What do you believe?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What do <i>you</i> believe?" he replied.</p> + +<p>After a moment of speculative gravity came her reply.</p> + +<p>"As without proof I believed in the marriage, so without proof I believe +that in some mysterious way he comes to her—God be thanked!"</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Coombe. "We are living in a changing world and new +things are happening. I do not know what they are, but they shake me +inwardly."</p> + +<p>"You want to see her because—?" the Duchess put it to him.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am changing with the rest of the world, or it may be that +instincts which have always been part of me have been shaken to the +surface of my being. Perhaps I was by nature an effusively affectionate +and domestic creature. I cannot say that I have ever observed any signs +of the tendency, but it may have lurked secretly within me."</p> + +<p>"It caused you to rescue a child from torment and watch over its +helplessness as if it had been your own flesh and blood," interposed the +Duchess.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> +<p>"It may have been. Who knows? And now the unnatural emotional upheaval +of the times has broken down all my artificialities. I feel old and +tired—perhaps childish. Shrines are being torn down and blown to pieces +all over the world. And I long for a quite simple shrine to cleanse my +soul before. A white little soul hidden away in peace, and sitting +smiling over her sewing of small garments is worth making a pilgrimage +to. Do you remember the childish purity of her eyelids? I want to see +them dropped down as she sews. I want to <i>see</i> her."</p> + +<p>"Alixe—and her children—would have been your shrine." The Duchess +thought it out slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>He was the last of men to fall into an unconventional posture, but he +dropped forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees, his forehead in +his hands.</p> + +<p>"If she lives and the child lives I shall long intolerably to see them. +As her mother seemed to live in Alixe's exquisite body without its soul, +so Alixe's soul seems to possess this child's body. Do I appear to be +talking nonsense? Things without precedent have always been supposed to +be nonsense."</p> + +<p>"We are not so sure of that as we used to be," commented the Duchess.</p> + +<p>"I shall long to be allowed to be near them," he added. "But I may go +out of existence without seeing them at all. I gave my word."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + + +<p>After the first day of cutting out patterns from the models and finely +sewing tiny pieces of lawn together, Dowie saw that, before going to her +bedroom for the night, Robin began to gather together all she had done +and used in doing her work. She had ordered from London one of the +pretty silk-lined lace-frilled baskets women are familiar with, and she +neatly folded and laid her sewing in it. She touched each thing with +fingers that lingered; she smoothed and once or twice patted something. +She made exquisitely orderly little piles. Her down-dropped white lids +quivered with joy as she did it. When she lifted them to look at Dowie +her eyes were like those of a stray young spirit.</p> + +<p>"I am going to take them into my room," she said. "I shall take them +every night. I want to keep them on a chair quite near me so that I can +put out my hand and touch them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lamb," Dowie agreed cheerfully. But she knew she was going to +hear something else. And this would be the third time.</p> + +<p>"I want to show them to Donal." The very perfection of her naturalness +gave Dowie a cold chill, even while she thanked God. She had shivered +inwardly when she had opened the Tower room window, and so she shivered +now despite her serene exterior. A simple unexalted body could not but +think of those fragments which were never even found. And she, standing +there with her lips and eyes smiling, just like any other radiant gi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>rl +mother whose young husband is her lover, enraptured and amazed by this +new miracle of hers!</p> + +<p>Robin touched her with the tip of her finger.</p> + +<p>"It can't be only a dream, Dowie," she said. "He's too real. I am too +real. We are too happy." She hesitated a second. "If he were here at +Darreuch in the daytime—I should not always know where he had been when +he was away. Only his coming back would matter. He can't tell me now +just where he comes from. He says 'Not yet.' But he comes. Every night, +Dowie."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Every day she sewed in the Tower room, her white eyelids drooping over +her work. Each night the basket was carried to her room. And each day +Dowie watched with amazement the hollows in her temples and cheeks and +under her eyes fill out, the small bones cover themselves, the thinned +throat grow round with young tissue and smooth with satin skin. Her hair +became light curled silk again; the faint colour deepened into the +Jacqueminot glow at which passers by had turned to look in the street +when she was little more than a baby. But she never talked of the dream. +The third time was the last for many weeks.</p> + +<p>Between Doctor Benton and Dowie there grew up an increased reserve +concerning the dream. Never before had the man encountered an experience +which so absorbed him. He was a student of the advanced order. He also +had seen the books which had fallen into the hands of Coombe—some the +work of scientific men—some the purely commercial outcome of the need +of the hour written by the jackals of the literary profession. He would +have b<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>een ready to sit by the bedside of his patient through the night +watching over her sleep, holding her wrist with fingers on her pulse. +Even his most advanced thinking involuntarily harked back to pulse and +temperature and blood pressure. The rapidity of the change taking place +in the girl was abnormal, but it expressed itself physically as well as +mentally. How closely involved physiology and psychology were after all! +Which was which? Where did one end and the other begin? Where was the +line drawn? Was there a line at all? He had seen no chances for the +apparently almost dying young thing when he first met her. She could not +have lived through what lay before her. She had had a dream which she +believed was real, and, through the pure joy and comfort of it, the life +forces had begun to flow through her being and combine to build actual +firm tissue and supply blood cells. The results were physical enough. +The inexplicable in this case was that the curative agency was that she +believed that her husband, who had been blown to atoms on the battle +field, came to her alive each night—talked with her—held her in warm +arms. Nothing else had aided her. And there you were—thrown upon +occultism and what not!</p> + +<p>He became conscious that, though he would have been glad to question +Dowie daily and closely, a certain reluctance of mind held him back. +Also he realised that, being a primitive though excellent woman, Dowie +herself was secretly awed into avoidance of the subject. He believed +that she knelt by her bedside each night in actual fear, but faithfully +praying that for some months at least the dream might be allowed to go +on. Had not he himself involuntarily said,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> +<p>"She is marvellously well. We have nothing to fear if this continues."</p> + +<p>It did continue and her bloom became a thing to marvel at. And not her +bloom alone. Her strength increased with her blooming until no one could +have felt fear for or doubt of her. She walked upon the moor without +fatigue, she even worked in a garden Jock Macaur had laid out for her +inside the ruined walls of what had once been the castle's banquet hall. +So much of her life had been spent in London that wild moor and sky and +the growing of things thrilled her. She ran in and out and to and fro +like a little girl. There seemed no limit to the young vigour that +appeared day by day to increase rather than diminish.</p> + +<p>"It's a wonderful thing and God be thankit," said Mrs. Macaur.</p> + +<p>Only Dowie in secret trembled sometimes before the marvel of her. As +Doctor Benton had imagined, she prayed forcefully.</p> + +<p>"Lord, forgive me if I am a sinner—but for Christ's sake don't take the +strange thing away from her until she's got something to hold on to. +What would she do— What could she!"</p> + +<p>Robin came into the Tower room on a fair morning carrying her pretty +basket as she always did. She put it down on its table and went and +stood a few minutes at a window looking out. The back of her neck, Dowie +realised, was now as slenderly round and velvet white as it had been +when she had dressed her hair on the night of the Duchess' dance. Dowie +did not know that its loveliness had been poor George's temporary +undoing; she only thought of it as a sign of the wonderful change. It +had been waxen pallid and had shown piteous hollows.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> +<p>She turned about and spoke.</p> + +<p>"Dowie, dear, I am going to write to Lord Coombe."</p> + +<p>Dowie's heart hastened its beat and she herself being conscious of the +fact, hastened to answer in an unexcited manner.</p> + +<p>"That'll be nice, my dear. His lordship'll be glad to get the good news +you can give him."</p> + +<p>She asked herself if she would not perhaps tell her something—something +which would make the fourth time.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's asked her to do it," she thought.</p> + +<p>But Robin said nothing which could make a fourth time. After she had +eaten her breakfast she sat down and wrote a letter. It did not seem a +long one and when she had finished it she sent it to the post by Jock +Macaur.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There had been dark news both by land and sea that day, and Coombe had +been out for many hours. He did not return to Coombe House until late in +the evening. He was tired almost beyond endurance, and his fatigue was +not merely a thing of muscle and nerve. After he sat down it was some +time before he even glanced at the letters upon his writing table.</p> + +<p>There were always a great many and usually a number of them were +addressed in feminine handwriting. His hospital and other war work +brought him numerous letters from women. Even their most impatient +masculine opponents found themselves admitting that the women were being +amazing.</p> + +<p>Coombe was so accustomed to opening such letters that he felt no +surprise when he took up an envelope without official lettering upon it, +and addressed in a girlish hand. Girls were being as amazing as older +women.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>But this was not a letter about war work or Red Cross efforts. It was +Robin's letter. It was not long and was as simple as a school girl's. +She had never been clever—only exquisite and adorable, and never dull +or stupid.</p> + +<p> +"Dear Lord Coombe,<br /> +</p> + +<p>"You were kind enough to say that you would come to see me when I asked +you. Please will you come now? I hope I am not asking you to take a long +journey when you are engaged in work too important to leave. If I am +please pardon me, and I will wait until you are less occupied.</p> + +<p> +"Robin."<br /> +</p> + +<p>That was all. Coombe sat and gazed at it and read it several times. The +thing which had always touched him most in her was her simple obedience +to the laws about her. Curiously it had never seemed insipid—only a +sort of lovely desire to be in harmony with all near her—things and +people alike. It had been an innocent modesty which could not express +rebellion. Her lifelong repelling of himself had been her one variation +from type. Even that had been quiet except in one demonstration of her +babyhood when she had obstinately refused to give him her hand. When +Fate's self had sprung upon her with a wild-beast leap she had only lain +still and panted like a young fawn in the clutch of a lion. She had only +thought of Donal and his child. He remembered the eyes she had lifted to +his own when he had put the ring on her finger in the shadow-filled old +church—and he had understood that she was thinking of the warm young +hand clasp and the glow of eyes she had looked u<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>p into when love and +youth had stood in his place.</p> + +<p>The phrasing of the letter brought it all back. His precision of mind +and resolve would have enabled him to go to his grave without having +looked on her face again—but he was conscious that she was an integral +part of his daily thought and planning and that he longed inexpressibly +to see her. He sometimes told himself that she and the child had become +a sort of obsession with him. He believed that this was because Alixe +had shown the same soft obedience to fate, and the same look in her +sorrowful young eyes. Alixe had been then as she was now—but he had not +been able to save her. She had died and he was one of the few abnormal +male creatures who know utter loneliness to the end of life because of +utter loss. He knew such things were not normal. It had seemed that +Robin would die, though not as Alixe did. If she lived and he might +watch over her, there lay hidden in the back of his mind a vague feeling +that it would be rather as though his care of all detail—his power to +palliate—to guard—would be near the semblance of the tenderness he +would have shown to Alixe. His old habit of mind caused him to call it +an obsession, but he admitted he was obsessed.</p> + +<p>"I want to <i>see</i> her!" he thought.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + + +<p>Many other thoughts filled his mind on his railroad journey to Scotland. +He questioned himself as to how deeply he still felt the importance of +there coming into the racked world a Head of the House of Coombe, how +strongly he was still inspired by the centuries old instinct that a +House of Coombe must continue to exist as part of the bulwarks of +England. The ancient instinct still had its power, but he was curiously +awakening to a slackening of the bonds which caused a man to specialise. +It was a reluctant awakening—he himself had no part in the slackening. +The upheaval of the whole world had done it and of the world England +herself was a huge part—small, huge, obstinate, fighting England. +Bereft of her old stately beauties, her picturesque splendours of habit +and custom, he could not see a vision of her, and owned himself desolate +and homesick. He was tired. So many men and women were tired—worn out +with thinking, fearing, holding their heads up while their hearts were +lead. When all was said and done, when all was over, what would the new +England want—what would she need? And England was only a part. What +would the ravaged world need as it lay—quiet at last—in ruins +physical, moral and mental? He had no answer. Wiser men than he had no +answer. Only time would tell. But the commonest brain cells in the +thickest skull could argue to the end which proved that only men and +women could do the work to be done. The task would be one for gods, or +demigods, or supermen—but there remain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>ed so far only men and women to +face it—to rebuild, to reinspire with life, to heal unearthly gaping +wounds of mind and soul. Each man or woman born strong and given the +chance to increase in vigour which would build belief in life and +living, in a future, was needed as breath and air are needed—even such +an one as in the past would have wielded a sort of unearned sceptre as a +Head of the House of Coombe. A man born a blacksmith, if he were of like +quality, would meet equally the world's needs, but each would be doing +in his way his part of that work which it seemed to-day only demigod and +superman could fairly confront.</p> + +<p>There was time for much thinking in long hours spent shut in a railroad +carriage and his mind was, in these days, not given to letting him rest.</p> + +<p>He had talked with many men back from the Front on leave and he had +always noted the marvel of both minds and bodies at the relief from +strain—from maddening noise, from sights of death and horror, from the +needs of decency and common comfort and cleanliness which had become +unheard of luxury. London, which to the Londoner seemed caught in the +tumult and turmoil of war, was to these men rest and peace.</p> + +<p>Coombe felt, when he descended at the small isolated station and stood +looking at the climbing moor, that he was like one of those who had left +the roar of battle behind and reached utter quiet. London was a world's +width away and here the War did not exist. In Flanders and in France it +filled the skies with thunders and drenched the soil with blood. But +here it was not.</p> + +<p>The partly rebuilt ruin of Darreuch rose at last before his view high on +the moor as he drove up the winding road. The space and the blue sky +above and behind it made it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> seem the embodiment of remote stillness. +Nothing had reached nor could touch it. It did not know that green +fields and deep woods were strewn with dead and mangled youth and all it +had meant of the world's future. Its crumbled walls and remaining grey +towers stood calm in the clear air and birds' nests were hidden safely +in their thick ivy.</p> + +<p>Robin was there and each night she believed that a dead man came to her +a seeming living being. He was not like Dowie, but his realisation of +the mystery of this thing touched his nerves as a wild unexplainable +sound heard in the darkness at midnight might have done. He wondered if +he should see some look which was not quite normal in her eyes and hear +some unearthly note in her voice. Physically the effect upon her had +been good, but might he not be aware of the presence of some mental +sign?</p> + +<p>"I think you'll be amazed when you see her, my lord," said Dowie, who +met him. "I am myself, every day."</p> + +<p>She led him up to the Tower room and when he entered it Robin was +sitting by a window sewing with her eyelids dropped as he had pictured +them. The truth was that Dowie had not previously announced him because +she had wanted him to come upon just this.</p> + +<p>Robin rose from her chair and laid her bit of sewing aside. For a moment +he almost expected her to make the little curtsey Mademoiselle had +taught her to make when older people came into the schoolroom. She +looked so exactly as she had looked before life had touched her. There +was very little change in her girlish figure; the child curve of her +cheek had returned; the Jacqueminot rose glowed on it and her eyes were +liquid wo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>nders of trust. She came to him holding out both hands.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for coming," she said in her pretty way. "Thank you, Lord +Coombe, for coming."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my child, for asking me to come," he answered and he feared +that his voice was not wholly steady.</p> + +<p>There was no mystic sign to be seen about her. The only mystery was in +her absolutely blooming health and naturalness and in the gentle and +clear happiness of her voice and eyes. She was not tired; she was not +dragged or anxious looking as he had seen even fortunate young wives and +mothers at times. There actually flashed back upon him the morning, +months ago, when he had met her in the street and said to himself that +she was like a lovely child on her birthday with all her gifts about +her. Her radiance had been quiet even then because she was always quiet.</p> + +<p>She led him to a seat near her window and she sat by him.</p> + +<p>"I put this chair here for you because it is so lovely to look out at +the moor," she said.</p> + +<p>That moved him to begin with. She had been thinking simply and kindly of +him even before he came. He had always been prepared for, waited upon +either with flattering attentions or ceremonial service, but the quiet +pretty things mothers and sisters and wives did had not been part of his +life and he had always noticed and liked them and sometimes wondered +that most men received them with a casual air. This small thing alone +caused the roar he had left behind to recede still farther.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid that you might be too busy to come," she went on. "You +see, I remembered how important the work was and t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>hat there are things +which cannot wait for an hour. I could have waited as long as you told +me to wait. But I am so <i>glad</i> you could come!"</p> + +<p>"I will always come," was his answer. "I have helpers who could be +wholly trusted if I died to-night. I have thought of that. One must."</p> + +<p>She hesitated a moment and then said, "I am quite away here as you +wanted me to be. I see it was the only thing. I read nothing, hear +nothing. London—the War—" her voice fell a little.</p> + +<p>"They go on. Will you be kind to me and help me to forget them for a +while?" He looked through the window at the sky and the moor. "They are +not here—they never have been. The men who come back will do anything +to make themselves forget for a little while. This place makes me feel +that I am a man who has come back."</p> + +<p>"I will do anything—everything—you wish me to do," she said eagerly. +"Dowie wondered if you would not want to be very quiet and not be +reminded. I—wondered too."</p> + +<p>"You were both right. I want to feel that I am in another world. This +seems like a new planet."</p> + +<p>"Would you—" she spoke rather shyly, "would you be able to stay a few +days?"</p> + +<p>"I can stay a week," he answered. "Thank you, Robin."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad," she said. "I am so glad."</p> + +<p>So they did not talk about the War or about London, though she inquired +about the Duchess and Lady Lothwell and Kathryn.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to go out and walk over the moor?" she asked after a +short time. "It's so scented and sweet, and darling things scurry +about. I don't think they are really fr<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>ightened, because I try to walk +softly. Sometimes there are nests with eggs or soft little things in +them."</p> + +<p>They went out together and walked side by side, sometimes on the winding +road and sometimes through the heather. He found himself watching every +step she made and keeping his eye on the path ahead of them to make sure +she would avoid roughness or irregularities. In some inner part of his +being there remotely worked the thought that this was the way in which +he might have walked side by side with Alixe, watching over each step +taken by her sacred little feet.</p> + +<p>The day was a wonder of peace and relaxation to him. Farther and +farther, until lost in nothingness, receded the roar and the tensely +strung sense of waiting for news of unbearable things. As they went on +he realised that he need not even watch the path before her because she +knew it so well and her step was as light and firm as a young roe's. Her +very movements seemed to express the natural physical enjoyment of +exercise.</p> + +<p>He knew nothing of her mind but that Mademoiselle had told him that she +was intelligent. They had never talked together and so her mentality was +an unexplored field to him. She did not chatter. She said fresh +picturesque things about life on the moor, about the faithful silent +Macaurs, about Dowie, and now and then about something she had read. She +showed him beauties and small curious things she plainly loved. It +struck him that the whole trend of her being lay in the direction of +being fond of people and things—of loving and being happy,—and even +merry if life had been kind to her. Her soft laugh had a naturally merry +note. He heard it first when she held him quite still at her side as +they watched the frisking of some baby rabbits.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a curious relief in realising, as the hours passed, that her +old dislike and dread of him had melted into nothingness like a mist +blown away in the night. She was thinking of him as if he were some +mature and wise friend who had always been kind to her. He need not +rigidly watch his words and hers. She was not afraid of him at all; +there was no shrinking in her eyes when they met his. If Alixe had had a +daughter who was his own, she might have lifted such lovely eyes to him.</p> + +<p>They lunched together and Dowie served them with deft ability and an +expression which Coombe was able to comprehend the at once watchful and +directing meaning of. It directed him to observation of Robin's appetite +and watched for his encouraged realisation of it as a supporting fact.</p> + +<p>He went to his own rooms in the afternoon that she might be alone and +rest. He read an old book for an hour and then talked with the Macaurs +about the place and their work and their new charge. He wanted to hear +what they were thinking of her.</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful, my lord!" was Mrs. Macaur's repeated contribution. "She +came here a wee ghost. She frighted me. I couldna see how she could go +through what's before her. I lay awake in my bed expectin' Mrs. Dowie to +ca' me any hour. An' betwixt one night and anither the change cam. She's +a well bairn—for woman she isna, puir wee thing! It's a wonder—a +wonder—a wonder, my lord!"</p> + +<p>When he saw Dowie alone he asked her a question.</p> + +<p>"Does she know that you have told me of the dream?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord. The dream's a thing we don't talk about. She's only +mentioned it three times. It's in my mind that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>she feels it's too sacred +to be made common by words."</p> + +<p>He had wondered if Robin had been aware of his knowledge. After Dowie's +answer he wondered if she would speak to him about the dream herself. +Perhaps she would not. It might be that she had asked him to come to +Darreuch because her thought of him had so changed that she had realised +something of his grave anxiety for her health and a gentle consideration +had made her wish to give him the opportunity to see her face to face. +Perhaps she had intended only this.</p> + +<p>"I want to see her," he had said to himself. The relief of the mere +seeing had been curiously great. He had the relief of sinking, as it +were, into the deep waters of pure peace on this new planet. In this +realisation every look at the child's face, every movement she made, +every tone of her voice, aided. Did she know that she soothed him? Did +she intend to try to soothe? When they were together she gave him a +feeling that she was strangely near and soft and warm. He had felt it on +the moor. It was actually as if she wanted to be quieting to him—almost +as if she had realised that he had been stretched upon a mental rack +with maddening tumult all around him. It was part of her pretty thought +of him in the matter of the waiting chair and he felt it very sweet.</p> + +<p>But she had had other things in her mind when she had asked him to come. +This he knew later.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + + +<p>After they had dined they sat together in the long Highland twilight +before her window in the Tower room where he had found her sitting when +he arrived. Her work basket was near her and she took a piece of sheer +lawn from it and began to embroider. And he sat and watched her draw +delicate threads through the tiny leaves and flowers she was making. So +he might have watched Alixe if she had been some unroyal girl given to +him in one of life's kinder hours. She seemed to draw near out of the +land of lost shadows as he sat in the clear twilight stillness and +looked on. As he might have watched Alixe.</p> + +<p>The silence, the paling daffodil tints of the sky, the non-existence of +any other things than calm and stillness seemed to fill his whole being +as a cup might be filled by pure water falling slowly. She said nothing +and did not even seem to be waiting for anything. It was he who first +broke the rather long silence and his voice was quite low.</p> + +<p>"Do you know you are very good to me?" he said. "How did you learn to be +so kind to a man—with your quietness?"</p> + +<p>He saw the hand holding her work tremble a very little. She let it fall +upon her knee, still holding the embroidery. She leaned forward slightly +and in her look there was actually something rather like a sort of timid +prayer.</p> + +<p>"Please let me," she said. "Please let me—if you can!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> +<p>"Let you!" was all that he could say.</p> + +<p>"Let me try to help you to rest—to feel quiet and forget for just a +little while. It's such a small thing. And it's all I can ever <i>try</i> to +do."</p> + +<p>"You do it very perfectly," he answered, touched and wondering.</p> + +<p>"You have been kind to me ever since I was a child—and I did not know," +she said. "Now I know, because I understand. Oh! <i>will</i> you forgive me? +<i>Please</i>—will you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't, my dear," he said. "You were a baby. <i>I</i> understood. That +prevented there being anything to forgive—anything."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have loved you as I loved Mademoiselle and Dowie." Her eyes +filled with tears. "And I think I hated you. It began with Donal," in a +soft wail. "I heard Andrews say that his mother wouldn't let him know me +because you were my mother's friend. And then as I grew older—"</p> + +<p>"Even if I had known what you thought I could not have defended myself," +he answered, faintly smiling. "You must not let yourself think of it. It +is nothing now."</p> + +<p>The hand holding the embroidery lifted itself to touch her breast. There +was even a shade of awe of him in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is something to me—and to Donal. You have never defended yourself. +You endure things and endure them. You watched for years over an +ignorant child who loathed you. It was not that a child's hatred is of +importance—but if I had died and never asked you to forgive me, how +could I have looked into Donal's eyes? I want to go down on my knees to +you!"</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair, and took in his own the unsteady hand holding +the embroidery. He even bent and lightly touched i<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>t with his lips, with +his finished air.</p> + +<p>"You will not die," he said. "And you will not go upon your knees. Thank +you for being a warm hearted child, Robin."</p> + +<p>But still her eyes held the touch of awe of him.</p> + +<p>"But what I have spoken of is the least." Her voice almost broke. "In +the Wood—in the dark you said there was something that must be saved +from suffering. I could not think then—I could scarcely care. But you +cared, and you made me come awake. To save a poor little child who was +not born, you have done something which will make people believe you +were vicious and hideous—even when all this is over forever and ever. +And there will be no one to defend you. Oh! What shall I do!"</p> + +<p>"There are myriads of worlds," was his answer. "And this is only one of +them. And I am only one man among the myriads on it. Let us be very +quiet again and watch the coming out of the stars."</p> + +<p>In the pale saffron of the sky which was mysteriously darkening, sparks +like deep-set brilliants were lighting themselves here and there. They +sat and watched them together for long. But first Robin murmured +something barely above her lowest breath. Coombe was not sure that she +expected him to hear it.</p> + +<p>"I want to be your little slave. Oh! Let me!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + + +<p>This was what she had been thinking of. This had been the meaning of the +tender thought for him he had recognised uncomprehendingly in her look: +it had been the cause of her desire to enfold him in healing and restful +peace. When he had felt that she drew so close to him that they were +scarcely separated by physical being, it was because she had suddenly +awakened to a new comprehension. The awakening must have been a sudden +one. He had known at the church that it had taken all her last remnant +of strength to aid her to lay her cold hand in his and he had seen +shrinking terror in her eyes when she lifted them to his as he put on +her wedding ring. He had also known perfectly what memory had beset her +at the moment and he had thrown all the force of his will into the look +which had answered her—the look which had told her that he understood. +Yes, the awakening must have been sudden and he asked himself how it had +come about—what had made all clear?</p> + +<p>He had never been a mystic, but during the cataclysmic hours through +which men were living, many of them stunned into half blindness and then +shocked into an unearthly clarity of thought and sight, he had come upon +previously unheard of signs of mysticism on all sides. People +talked—most of them blunderingly—of things they would not have +mentioned without derision in pre-war days. Premonitions, dreams, +visions, telepathy were not by any means always flouted with raucous +laughter and crude witticisms. Even unorthodox people had be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>gun to hold +tentatively religious views.</p> + +<p>Was he becoming a mystic at last? As he walked by Robin's side on the +moor, as he dined with her, talked with her, sat and watched her at her +sewing, more than ever each hour he believed that her dream was no +ordinary fantasy of the unguided brain. She had in some strange way seen +Donal. Where—how—where he had come from—where he returned after their +meeting—he ceased to ask himself. What did it matter after all if souls +could so comfort and sustain each other? The blessedness of it was +enough.</p> + +<p>He wondered as Dowie had done whether she would reveal anything to him +or remain silent. There was no actual reason why she should speak. No +remotest reference to the subject would come from himself.</p> + +<p>It was in truth a new planet he lived on during this marvel of a week. +The child was wonderful, he told himself. He had not realised that a +feminine creature could be so exquisitely enfolding and yet leave a man +so wholly free. She was not always with him, but her spirit was so near +that he began to feel that no faintest wish could form itself within his +mind without her mysteriously knowing of its existence and realising it +while she seemed to make no effort. She did pretty things for him and +her gladness in his pleasure in them touched him to the core. He also +knew that she wished him to see that she was well and strong and never +tired or languid. There was, perhaps, one thing she could do for him and +she wanted to prove to him that he might be sure she would not fail him. +He allowed her to perform small services for him because of the dearness +of the smile it brought to her lips—almost a sort of mothering smile. +It was really true that she wanted to be his little slave and he had +imagination e<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>nough to guess that she comforted herself by saying the +thing to herself again and again; childlike and fantastic as it was.</p> + +<p>She taught him to sleep as he had not slept for a year; she gave him +back the power to look at his food without a sense of being repelled; +she restored to him the ability to sit still in a chair as though it +were meant to rest in. His nerves relaxed; his deadly fatigue left him; +and it was the quiet nearness of Robin that had done it. He felt younger +and knew that on his return to London he should be more inclined to +disbelieve exaggerated rumours than to believe them.</p> + +<p>On the evening before he left Darreuch they sat at the Tower window +again. She did not take her sewing from its basket, but sat very quietly +for a while looking at the purple folds of moor.</p> + +<p>"You will go away very early in the morning," she began at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You must promise me that you will not awaken."</p> + +<p>"I do not waken early. If I do I shall come to you, but I think I shall +be asleep."</p> + +<p>"Try to be asleep."</p> + +<p>He saw that she was going to say something else—something not connected +with his departure. It was growing in her eyes and after a silent moment +or so she began.</p> + +<p>"There is something I want to tell you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I have waited because I wanted to make sure that you could believe it. +I did not think you would not wish to believe it, but sometimes there +are people who <i>cannot</i> believe even when they try. Perhaps once I +should not have been able to believe myself. But now—I <i>know</i>. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>And +to-night I feel that you are one of those who <i>can</i> believe."</p> + +<p>She was going to speak of it.</p> + +<p>"In these days when all the forces of the world are in upheaval people +are learning that there are many new things to be believed," was his +answer.</p> + +<p>She turned towards him, extending her arms that he might see her well.</p> + +<p>"See!" she said, "I am alive again. I am alive because Donal came back +to me. He comes every night and when he comes he is not dead. Can you +believe it?"</p> + +<p>"When I look at you and remember, I can believe anything. I do not +understand. I do not know where he comes from—or how, but I believe +that in some way you see him."</p> + +<p>She had always been a natural and simple girl and it struck him that her +manner had never been a more natural one.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> do not know where he comes from," the clearness of a bell in her +voice. "He does not want me to ask him. He did not say so but I know. +When he is with me we know things without speaking words. We only talk +of happy things. I have not told him that—that I have been unhappy and +that I thought that perhaps I was really dead. He made me understand +about you—but he does not know anything—else. Yes—" eagerly, eagerly, +"you are believing—you are!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I am believing."</p> + +<p>"If everything were as it used to be—I should see him and talk to him +in the day time. Now I see him and talk to him at night instead. You +see, it is almost the same thing. But we are really happier. We are +afraid of nothing and we only tell each other of happy things. We k<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>now +how wonderful everything is and that it was <i>meant</i> to be like that. You +don't know how beautiful it is when you only think and talk about joyful +things! The other things fly away. Sometimes we go out onto the moor +together and the darkness is not darkness—it is a soft lovely thing as +beautiful as the light. We love it—and we can go as far as we like +because we are never tired. Being tired is one of the things that has +flown away and left us quite light. That is why I feel light in the day +and I am never tired or afraid. I <i>remember</i> all the day."</p> + +<p>As he listened, keeping his eyes on her serenely radiant face, he asked +himself what he should have been thinking if he had been a psychopathic +specialist studying her case. He at the same time realised that a +psychopathic specialist's opinion of what he himself—Lord +Coombe—thought would doubtless have been scientifically disconcerting. +For what he found that he thought was that, through some mysteriously +beneficent opening of portals kept closed through all the eons of time, +she who was purest love's self had strangely passed to places where +vision revealed things as they were created by that First Intention—of +which people sometimes glibly talked in London drawing-rooms. He had not +seen life so. He was not on her plane, but, as he heard her, he for the +time believed in its existence and felt a remote nostalgia.</p> + +<p>"Dowie is very brave and tries not to be frightened," she went on; "but +she is really afraid that something may happen to my mind. She thinks it +is only a queer dream which may turn out unhealthy. But it is not. It is +Donal."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is Donal," he answered gravely. And he believed he was +speaking a truth, though he was aware of no materi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>al process of +reasoning by which such a conclusion could be reached. One had to +overleap gaps—even abysses—where material reasoning came to a full +stop. One could only argue that there might be yet unknown processes to +be revealed. Mere earthly invention was revealing on this plane unknown +processes year by year—why not on other planes?</p> + +<p>"I wanted to tell you because I want you to know everything about me. It +seems as if I belong to you, Lord Coombe," there was actual sweet +pleading in her voice. "You watched and made my life for me. I should +not have been this Robin if you had not watched. When Donal came back he +found me in the house you had taken me to because I could be safe in it. +Everything has come from you.... I am yours as well as Donal's."</p> + +<p>"You give me extraordinary comfort, dear child," he said. "I did not +know that I needed it, but I see that I did. Perhaps I have longed for +it without knowing it. You have opened closed doors."</p> + +<p>"I will do anything—everything—you wish me to do. I will <i>obey</i> you +always," she said.</p> + +<p>"You are doing everything I most desire," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Then I will try more every day."</p> + +<p>She meant it as she had always meant everything she said. It was her +innocent pledge of faithful service, because, understanding at last, she +had laid her white young heart in gratitude at his feet. No living man +could have read her more clearly than this one whom half Europe had +secretly smiled at as its most finished debauchée. When she took her +pretty basket upon her knee and began to fold its bits of lawn +delicately for the night, he felt as if he were watching some stainless +acol<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>yte laying away the fine cloths of an altar.</p> + +<p>Though no one would have accused him of being a sentimentalist or an +emotional man, his emotions overpowered him for once and swept doubt of +emotion and truth into some outer world.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The morning rose fair and the soft wind blowing across the gorse and +heather brought scents with it. Dowie waited upon him at his early +breakfast and took the liberty of indulging in open speech.</p> + +<p>"You go away looking rested, my lord," she respectfully ventured. "And +you leave us feeling safe."</p> + +<p>"Quite safe," he answered; "she is beautifully well."</p> + +<p>"That's it, my lord—beautifully—thank God. I've never seen a young +thing bloom as she does and I've seen many."</p> + +<p>The cart was at the door and he stood in the shadows of the hall when a +slight sound made him look up at the staircase. It was an ancient +winding stone descent with its feudal hand rope for balustrade. Robin +was coming down it in a loose white dress. Her morning face was +wonderful. It was inevitable that he should ask himself where she had +come from—what she had brought with her unknowing. She looked like a +white blossom drifting from the bough—like a feather from a dove's wing +floating downward to earth. But she was only Robin.</p> + +<p>"You awakened," he reproached her.</p> + +<p>She came quite near him.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to awake. Donal wanted me to."</p> + +<p>She had never been quite so near him before. She put out a hand and +laid it on the rough tweed covering his breast.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you. Will you come again—when you are tired? I shall +always be here waiting."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear child," he answered. "I will come as often as I can +leave London. This is a new planet."</p> + +<p>He was almost as afraid to move as if a bird had alighted near him.</p> + +<p>But she was not afraid. Her eyes were clear pools of pure light.</p> + +<p>"Before you go away—" she said as simply as she had said it to Dowie +years before, "—may I kiss you, Lord Coombe? I want to kiss you."</p> + +<p>His old friend had told him the story of Dowie and it had +extraordinarily touched him though he had said but little. And now it +repeated itself. He had never seen anything so movingly lovely in his +life as her sweet gravity.</p> + +<p>She lifted her slight arms and laid them around his neck as she kissed +him gently, as if she had been his daughter—his own daughter and +delight—whose mother might have been Alixe.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + + +<p>"It was the strangest experience of my existence. It seemed suddenly to +change me to another type of man."</p> + +<p>He said it to the Duchess as he sat with her in her private room at +Eaton Square. He had told her the whole story of his week at Darreuch +and she had listened with an interest at moments almost breathless.</p> + +<p>"Do you feel that you shall remain the new type of man, or was it only a +temporary phase?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"I told her that I felt I was living on a new planet. London is the old +planet and I have returned to it. But not as I left it. Something has +come back with me."</p> + +<p>"It must have seemed another planet," the Duchess pondered. "The +stillness of huge unbroken moors—no war—no khaki in sight—utter peace +and remoteness. A girl brought back to life by pure love, drawing a +spirit out of the unknown to her side on earth."</p> + +<p>"She is like a spirit herself—but that she remains Robin—in an +extraordinary new blooming."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she remains Robin." The Duchess thought it out slowly. "Not once +did she disturb you or herself by remembering that you were her +husband."</p> + +<p>"A girl who existed on the old planet would have remembered, and I +should have detested her. To her, marriage means only Donal. The form we +went through she sees only as a supreme sacrifice I made for the sake of +Donal's child. If you could have heard her heart-wrung cry, 'There will +be no one to defend you! Oh! What shal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>l I do!'"</p> + +<p>"The stainless little soul of her!" the Duchess exclaimed. "Her world +holds only love and tenderness. Her goodbye to you meant that in her +penitence she wanted to take you into it in the one way she feels most +sacred. She will not die. She will live to give you the child. If it is +a son there will be a Head of the House of Coombe."</p> + +<p>"On the new planet one ceases to feel the vital importance of 'houses,'" +Coombe half reflected aloud.</p> + +<p>"Even on the old planet," the Duchess spoke as a woman very tired, "one +is beginning to contemplate changes in values."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The slice of a house in Mayfair had never within the memory of man been +so brilliant. The things done in it were called War Work and +necessitated much active gaiety. Persons of both sexes, the majority of +them in becoming uniform, flashed in and out in high spirits. If you +were a personable and feminine creature, it was necessary to look as +much like an attractive boy as possible when you were doing War Work. If +one could achieve something like leggings in addition to a masculine cut +of coat, one could swagger about most alluringly. There were numbers of +things to be done which did not involve frumpish utilitarian costumes, +all caps and aprons. Very short skirts were the most utilitarian of +garments because they were easy to get about in. Smart military little +hats were utilitarian also—and could be worn at any inspiring angle +which would most attract the passing eye. Even before the War, shapely +legs, feet and ankles had begun to play an increasingly interesting +part in the scheme of the Universe—as a result of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>brevity of skirts +and the prevalence of cabaret dancing. During the War, as a consequence +of the War Work done in such centres of activity as the slice of a house +in Mayfair, these attractive members were allowed opportunities such as +the world had not before contemplated.</p> + +<p>"Skirts must be short when people are doing real work," Feather said. +"And then of course one's shoes and stockings require attention. I'm not +always sure I like leggings however smart they are. Still I often wear +them—as a sort of example."</p> + +<p>"Of what?" inquired Coombe who was present</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—of what women are willing to do for their country—in time of +war. Wearing unbecoming things—and doing without proper food. These +food restrictions are enough to cause a revolution."</p> + +<p>She was specially bitter against the food restrictions. If there was one +thing men back from the Front—particularly officers—were entitled to, +it was unlimited food. The Government ought to attend to it. When a man +came back and you invited him to dinner, a nice patriotic thing it was +to restrict the number of courses and actually deny him savouries and +entrées because they are called luxuries. Who should have luxuries if +not the men who were defending England?</p> + +<p>"Of course the Tommies don't need them," she leniently added. "They +never had them and never will. But men who are officers in smart +regiments are starving for them. I consider that my best War Work is +giving as many dinner parties as possible, and paying as little +attention to food restrictions as I can manage by using my wits."</p> + +<p>For some time—in certain quarters even from early days—there had been +flowing through many places a current of talk abou<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>t America. What was +she going to do? Was she going to do anything at all? Would it be +possible for her hugeness, her power, her wealth to remain inert in a +world crisis? Would she be content tacitly to admit the truth of old +accusations of commerciality by securing as her part in the superhuman +conflict the simple and unadorned making of money through the dire +necessities of the world? There was bitterness, there were sneers, there +were vague hopes and scathing injustices born of torment and racking +dread. Some few were patiently just, because they knew something of the +country and its political and social workings and were by chance of +those whose points of view included the powers and significances of +things not readily to be seen upon the surface of events.</p> + +<p>"If there were dollars to be made out of it, of course America would +rush in," was Feather's decision. "Americans never do anything unless +they can make dollars. I never saw a dollar myself, but I believe they +are made of green paper. It would be very exciting if they did rush in. +They would bring so much money and they spend it as if it were water. Of +course they haven't any proper army, so they'd have to build one up out +of all sorts of people."</p> + +<p>"Which was what we were obliged to do ourselves, by the way," Coombe +threw in as a contribution.</p> + +<p>"But they will probably have stockbrokers and Wall Street men for +officers. Then some of them might give one 'tips' about how to make +millions in 'corners.' I don't know what corners are but they make +enormities out of them. Starling!" with a hilarious tinkle of a laugh, +"you know that appallingly gorgeous house of Cherry Cheston's in Palace +Garden—did she ever tell you that it was th<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>e result of a 'tip' a queer +Chicago man managed for her? He liked her. He used to call her 'Cherry +Ripe' when they were alone. He was big and red and half +boyish—sentimental and half blustering. Cherry <i>was</i> ripe, you know, +and he liked the ripe style. I should like to have a Chicago stockbroker +of my own. I wish the Americans <i>would</i> come in!"</p> + +<p>The Dowager Duchess of Darte and Lord Coombe had been of those who had +begun their talk of this in the early days.</p> + +<p>"Personally I believe they will come in," Coombe had always said. And on +different occasions he had added reasons which, combined, formulated +themselves into the following arguments. "We don't really know much of +the Americans though they have been buying and selling and marrying us +for some time. Our insular trick of feeling superior has held us +mentally aloof from half the globe. But presumably the United States was +from the first, in itself, an ideal, pure and simple. It was. It is +asinine to pooh-pooh it. A good deal is said about that sort of thing in +their histories and speeches. They keep it before each other and it has +had the effect of suggesting ideals on all sides. Which has resulted in +laying a sort of foundation of men who believe in the ideals and would +fight for them. They are good fighters and, when the sincere ones begin, +they will plant their flag where the insincere and mere politicians will +be forced to stand by it to save their faces. A few louder brays from +Berlin, a few more threats of hoofs trampling on the Star Spangled +Banner and the fuse will be fired. An American fuse might turn out an +amazing thing—because the ideals do <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>exist and ideals are inflammable."</p> + +<p>This had been in the early days spoken of.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + + +<p>Harrowby and the rest did not carry on their War Work in the slice of a +house. It was of an order requiring a more serious atmosphere. Feather +saw even the Starling less and less.</p> + +<p>"Since the Dowager took her up she's far too grand for the likes of us," +she said.</p> + +<p>So to speak, Feather blew about from one place to another. She had never +found life so exciting and excitement had become more vitally necessary +to her existence as the years had passed. She still looked +extraordinarily youthful and if her face was at times rather marvelous +in its white and red, and her lips daring in their pomegranate scarlet, +the fine grain of her skin aided her effects and she was dazzlingly in +the fashion. She had never worn such enchanting clothes and never had +seemed to possess so many.</p> + +<p>"I twist my rags together myself," she used to laugh. "That's my gift. +Hélène says I have genius. I don't mean that I sit and sew. I have a +little slave woman who does that by the day. She admires me and will do +anything that I tell her. Things are so delightfully scant and short now +that you can cut two or three frocks out of one of your old +petticoats—and mine were never very old."</p> + +<p>There was probably a modicum of truth in this—the fact remained that +the garments which were more scant and shorter than those of any other +feathery person were also more numerous and exquisite. Her patriotic +entertainment of soldiers who required her special order o<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>f support and +recreation was fast and furious. She danced with them at cabarets; she +danced as a nymph for patriotic entertainments, with snow-white bare +feet and legs and a swathing of Spring woodland green tulle and leaves +and primroses. She was such a success that important personages smiled +on her and asked her to appear under undreamed of auspices. Secretly +triumphant though she was, she never so far lost her head as to do +anything which would bore her or cause her to appear at less than an +alluring advantage. When she could invent a particularly unique and +inspiring shred of a garment to startle the public with, she danced for +some noble object and intoxicated herself with the dazzle of light and +applause. She found herself strung to her highest pitch of excitement by +the air raids, which in the midst of their terrors had the singular +effect of exciting many people and filling them with an insane +recklessness. Those so excited somehow seemed to feel themselves immune. +Feather chattered about "Zepps" as if bombs could only wreak their +vengeance upon coast towns and the lower orders.</p> + +<p>When Lord Coombe definitely refused to allow her to fit up the roof of +the slice of a house as a sort of luxurious Royal Box from which she and +her friends might watch the spectacle, she found among her circle +acquaintances who shared her thrills and had prepared places for +themselves. Sometimes she was even rather indecently exhilarated by her +sense of high adventure. The fact was that the excitement of the +seething world about her had overstrung her trivial being and turned her +light head until it whirled too fast.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> +<p>"It may seem horrid to say so and I'm not horrid—but I <i>like</i> the war. +You know what I mean. London never was so thrilling—with things +happening every minute—and all sorts of silly solemn fads swept away so +that one can do as one likes. And interesting heroic men coming and +going in swarms and being so grateful for kindness and entertainment. +One is really doing good all the time—and being adored for it. I own I +like being adored myself—and of course one likes doing good. I never +was so happy in my life."</p> + +<p>"I used to be rather a coward, I suppose," she chattered gaily on +another occasion. "I was horribly afraid of things. I believe the War +and living among soldiers has had an effect on me and made me braver. +The Zepps don't frighten me at all—at least they excite me so that they +make me forget to be frightened. I don't know what they do to me +exactly. The whole thing gets into my head and makes me want to rush +about and <i>see</i> everything. I wouldn't go into a cellar for worlds. I +want to <i>see</i>!"</p> + +<p>She saw Lord Coombe but infrequently at this time, the truth being that +her exhilaration and her War Work fatigued him, apart from which his +hours were filled. He also objected to a certain raffishness which in an +extremely mixed crowd of patriots rather too obviously "swept away silly +old fads" and left the truly advanced to do as they liked. What they +liked he did not and was wholly undisturbed by the circumstances of +being considered a rigid old fossil. Feather herself had no need of him. +An athletic and particularly well favoured young actor who shared her +thrills of elation seemed to permeate the atmosphere about her. He and +Feather together at times achieved the effect, between raids, of +waiting impatiently for a performance and feeling them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>selves ill treated +by the long delays between the acts.</p> + +<p>"Are we growing callous, or are we losing our wits through living at +such high temperature?" the Duchess asked. "There's a delirium in the +air. Among those who are not shuddering in cellars there are some who +seem possessed by a sort of light insanity, half defiance, half excited +curiosity. People say exultantly, 'I had a perfectly splendid view of +the last Zepp!' A mother whose daughter was paying her a visit said to +her, 'I wish you could have seen the Zepps while you were here. It is +such an experience.'"</p> + +<p>"They have not been able to bring about the wholesale disaster Germany +hoped for and when nothing serious happens there is a relieved feeling +that the things are futile after all," said Coombe. "When the results +are tragic they must be hushed up as far as is possible to prevent +panic."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dowie faithfully sent him her private bulletin. Her first fears of peril +had died away, but her sense of mystification had increased and was more +deeply touched with awe. She opened certain windows every night and felt +that she was living in the world of supernatural things. Robin's eyes +sometimes gave her a ghost of a shock when she came upon her sitting +alone with her work in her idle hands. But supported by the testimony of +such realities as breakfasts, long untiring walks and unvarying blooming +healthfulness, she thanked God hourly.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Benton says plain that he has never had such a beautiful case +and one that promised so well," she wrote. "He says she's as strong as a +young doe bounding about on the heather. What he holds is that it's +natural s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>he should be. He is a clever gentleman with some wonderful +comforting new ideas about things, my lord. And he tells me I need not +look forward with dread as perhaps I had been doing."</p> + +<p>Robin herself wrote to Coombe—letters whose tender-hearted +comprehension of what he was doing always held the desire to surround +him with the soothing quiet he had so felt when he was with her. What he +discovered was that she had been born of the elect,—the women who know +what to say, what to let others say and what to beautifully leave +unsaid. Her unconscious genius was quite exquisite.</p> + +<p>Now and then he made the night journey to Darreuch Castle and each time +she met him with her frank childlike kiss he was more amazed and +uplifted by her aspect. Their quiet talks together were wonderful things +to remember. She had done much fine and dainty work which she showed him +with unaffected sweetness. She told him stories of Dowie and +Mademoiselle and how they had taught her to sew and embroider. Once she +told him the story of her first meeting with Donal—but she passed over +the tragedy of their first parting.</p> + +<p>"It was too sad," she said.</p> + +<p>He noticed that she never spoke of sad and dark hours. He was convinced +that she purposely avoided them and he was profoundly glad.</p> + +<p>"I know," she said once, "that you do not want me to talk to you about +the War."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for knowing it," he answered. "I come here on a pilgrimage to +a shrine where peace is. Darreuch is my shrine."</p> + +<p>"It is mine, too," was her low response.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think it is," his look at her was deep. Suddenly but gently he +laid his hand on her shoulder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg you," he said fervently, "I <i>beg</i> you never to allow yourself to +think of it. Blot the accursed thing out of the Universe while—you are +here. For you there must be no war."</p> + +<p>"How kind his face looked," was Robin's thought as he hesitated a second +and then went on:</p> + +<p>"I know very little of such—sacrosanct things as mothers and children, +but lately I have had fancies of a place for them where there are only +smiles and happiness and beauty—as a beginning."</p> + +<p>It was she who now put her hand on his arm. "Little Darreuch is like +that—and you gave it to me," she said.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + + +<p>Lord Coombe was ushered into the little drawing-room by an extremely +immature young footman who—doubtless as a consequence of his +immaturity—appeared upon the scene too suddenly. The War left one only +servants who were idiots or barely out of Board Schools, Feather said. +And in fact it was something suggesting "a scene" upon which Coombe was +announced. The athletic and personable young actor—entitled upon +programmes Owen Delamore—was striding to and fro talking excitedly. +There was theatrical emotion in the air and Feather, delicately flushed +and elate, was listening with an air half frightened, half pleased. The +immaturity of the footman immediately took fright and the youth turning +at once produced the fatal effect of fleeing precipitately.</p> + +<p>Mr. Owen Delamore suddenly ceased speaking and would doubtless have +flushed vividly if he had not already been so high of colour as to +preclude the possibility of his flushing at all. The scene, which was +plainly one of emotion, being intruded upon in its midst left him +transfixed on his expression of anguish, pleading and reproachful +protest—all thrilling and confusing things.</p> + +<p>The very serenity of Lord Coombe's apparently unobserving entrance was +perhaps a shock as well as a relief. It took even Feather two or three +seconds to break into her bell of a laugh as she shook hands with her +visitor.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> +<p>"Mr. Delamore is going over his big scene in the new play," she +explained with apt swiftness of resource. "It's very good, but it +excites him dreadfully. I've been told that great actors don't let +themselves get excited at all, so he ought not to do it, ought he, Lord +Coombe?"</p> + +<p>Coombe was transcendently well behaved.</p> + +<p>"I am a yawning abyss of ignorance in such matters, but I cannot agree +with the people who say that emotion can be expressed without feeling." +He himself expressed exteriorly merely intelligent consideration of the +idea. "That however may be solely the opinion of one benighted."</p> + +<p>It was so well done that the young athlete, in the relief of relaxed +nerves, was almost hysterically inclined to believe in Feather's adroit +statement and to feel that he really had been acting. He was at least +able to pull himself together, to become less flushed and to sit down +with some approach to an air of being lightly amused at himself.</p> + +<p>"Well it is proved that I am not a great actor," he achieved. "I can't +come anywhere near doing it. I don't believe Irving ever did—or +Coquelin. But perhaps it is one of my recommendations that I don't +aspire to be great. At any rate people only ask to be amused and helped +out just now. It will be a long time before they want anything else, +it's my opinion."</p> + +<p>They conversed amiably together for nearly a quarter of an hour before +Mr. Owen Delamore went on his way murmuring polite regrets concerning +impending rehearsals, his secret gratitude expressing itself in special +courtesy to Lord Coombe.</p> + +<p>As he was leaving the room, Feather called to him airily:</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> +<p>"If you hear any more of the Zepps—just dash in and tell me!—Don't +lose a minute! Just dash!"</p> + +<p>When the front door was heard to close upon him, Coombe remarked +casually:</p> + +<p>"I will ask you to put an immediate stop to that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>He observed that Feather fluttered—though she had lightly moved to a +table as if to rearrange a flower in a group.</p> + +<p>"Put a stop to letting Mr. Delamore go over his scene here?"</p> + +<p>"Put a stop to Mr. Delamore, if you please."</p> + +<p>It was at this moment more than ever true that her light being was +overstrung and that her light head whirled too fast. This one particular +also overstrung young man had shared all her amusements with her and had +ended by pleasing her immensely—perhaps to the verge of inspiring a +touch of fevered sentiment she had previously never known. She told +herself that it was the War when she thought of it. She had however not +been clever enough to realise that she was a little losing her head in a +way which might not be to her advantage. For the moment she lost it +completely. She almost whirled around as she came to Coombe.</p> + +<p>"I won't," she exclaimed. "I won't!"</p> + +<p>It was a sort of shock to him. She had never done anything like it +before. It struck him that he had never before seen her look as she +looked at the moment. She was a shade too dazzlingly made up—she had +crossed the line on one side of which lies the art which is perfect. +Even her dress had a suggestion of wartime lack of restraint in its +style and colours.</p> + +<p>It was of a strange green and a very long scarf of an intensely vivid +violet spangled with silver paillettes was swathed around her bare +shoulders and floated from her arms. One o<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>f the signs of her excitement +was that she kept twisting its ends without knowing that she was +touching it. He noted that she wore a big purple amethyst ring—the +amethyst too big. Her very voice was less fine in its inflections and as +he swiftly took in these points Coombe recognised that they were the +actual result of the slight tone of raffishness he had observed as +denoting the character of her increasingly mixed circle.</p> + +<p>She threw herself into a chair palpitating in one of her rages of a +little cat—wreathing her scarf round and round her wrist and singularly +striking him with the effect of almost spitting and hissing out her +words.</p> + +<p>"I won't give up everything I like and that likes me," she flung out. +"The War has done something to us all. It's made us let ourselves go. +It's done something to me too. It's made me less frightened. I won't be +bullied into—into things."</p> + +<p>"Do I seem to bully you? I am sorry."</p> + +<p>The fact that she had let herself go with the rest of the world got the +better of her.</p> + +<p>"You have not been near me for weeks and now you turn up with your air +of a grand Bashawe and order people out of my house. You have not been +near me."</p> + +<p>The next instant it was as though she tore off some last shred of mental +veiling and threw it aside in her reckless mounting heat of temper.</p> + +<p>"Near me!" she laughed scathingly, "For the matter of that when have you +ever been <i>near</i> me? It's always been the same. I've known it for years. +As the Yankees say, you 'wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole.' I'm +sick of it. What did you <i>do</i> it for?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> +<p>"Do what?"</p> + +<p>"Take possession of me as if I were your property. You never were in +love with me—never for a second. If you had been you'd have married +me."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I should have married you."</p> + +<p>"There was no reason why you should not. I was pretty. I was young. I'd +been decently brought up—and it would have settled everything. Why +<i>didn't</i> you instead of letting people think I was your mistress when I +didn't count for as much as a straw in your life?"</p> + +<p>"You represented more than that," he answered. "Kindly listen to me."</p> + +<p>That she had lost her head completely was sufficiently manifested by the +fact that she had begun to cry—which made it necessary for her to use +her handkerchief with inimitable skill to prevent the tears from +encroaching on her brilliant white and rose.</p> + +<p>"If you had been in love with me—" she chafed bitterly.</p> + +<p>"On the morning some years ago when I came to you I made myself clear to +the best of my ability," he said. "I did not mention love. I told you +that I had no intention of marrying you. I called your attention to what +the world would assume. I left the decision to you."</p> + +<p>"What could I do—without a penny? Some other man would have had to do +it if you had not," the letting go rushed her into saying.</p> + +<p>"Or you would have been obliged to return to your parents in +Jersey—which you refused to contemplate."</p> + +<p>"Of course I refused. It would have been mad to do it. And there were +other people who would have paid my bills."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> +<p>"Solely because I knew that, I made my proposition. Being much older +than you I realised that other people might not feel the responsibility +binding—and permanent."</p> + +<p>She sat up and stared at him. There was no touch of the rancour of +recrimination in his presentation of detached facts. He <i>was</i> different +from the rest. He was always better dressed and the perfection of his +impersonal manner belonged to a world being swept away. He made Mr. Owen +Delamore seem by contrast a bounder and an outsider. But the fact which +had in the secret places of her small mind been the fly in her +ointment—the one fact that he had never for a moment cared a straw for +her—caused her actually to hate him as he again made it, quite without +prejudice, crystal clear. It was true that he had more than kept his +word—that he had never broken a convention in his bearing towards +her—that in his rigid way he had behaved like a prince—but she had +been dirt under his feet—she had been dirt under his feet! She wanted +to rave like a fishwife—though there were no fishwives in Mayfair.</p> + +<p>It was at this very moment of climax that a sudden memory beset her.</p> + +<p>"Rob always said that if a woman who was pretty could see a man often +enough—again and again—he couldn't <i>help</i> himself—unless there <i>was</i> +some one else!"</p> + +<p>Her last words were fiercely accusing. She quite glared at him a few +seconds, her chest heaving pantingly.</p> + +<p>She suddenly sprang from her sofa and dashed towards a table where a +pile of photographs lay in an untidy little heap. She threw them about +with angrily shaking hands until at last she caught at one and brought +it back to h<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>im.</p> + +<p>"There <i>was</i> some one else," she laughed shrilly. "You were in love with +that creature."</p> + +<p>It was one of the photographs of Alixe such as the Bond Street shop had +shown in its windows.</p> + +<p>She made a movement as if to throw it into the grate and he took it from +her hand, saying nothing whatever.</p> + +<p>"I'd forgotten about it until Owen Delamore reminded me only yesterday," +she said. "He's a romantic thing and he heard that you had been in +attendance and had been sent to their castle in Germany. He worked the +thing out in his own way. He said you had chosen me because I was like +her. I can see now! I <i>was</i> like her!"</p> + +<p>"If you had been like her," his voice was intensely bitter, "I should +have asked you to be my wife. You are as unlike her as one human being +can be to another."</p> + +<p>"But I was enough like her to make you take me up!" she cried furiously.</p> + +<p>"I have neither taken you up nor put you down," he answered. "Be good +enough never to refer to the subject again."</p> + +<p>"I'll refer to any subject I like. If you think I shall not you are +mistaken. It will be worth talking about. An Early Victorian romance is +worth something in these days."</p> + +<p>The trend of her new circle had indeed carried her far. He was privately +appalled by her. She was hysterically, passionately spiteful—almost to +the point of malignance.</p> + +<p>"Do you realise that this is a scene? It has not been our habit to +indulge in scenes," he said.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> +<p>"I shall speak about it as freely as I shall speak about Robin," she +flaunted at him, wholly unrestrained. "Do you think I know nothing about +Robin? I'm an affectionate mother and I've been making inquiries. She's +not with the Dowager at Eaton Square. She got ill and was sent away to +be hidden in the country. Girls are, sometimes. I thought she would be +sent away somewhere, the day I met her in the street. She looked exactly +like that sort of thing. Where is she? I demand to know."</p> + +<p>There is nothing so dangerous to others as the mere spitefully malignant +temper of an empty headed creature giving itself up to its own weak +fury. It knows no restraint, no limit in its folly. In her fantastic +broodings over her daughter's undue exaltation of position Feather had +many times invented for her own entertainment little scenes in which she +could score satisfactorily. Such scenes had always included Coombe, the +Dowager, Robin and Mrs. Muir.</p> + +<p>"I am her mother. She is not of age. I <i>can</i> demand to see her. I can +make her come home and stay with me while I see her through her +'trouble,' as pious people call it. She's got herself into trouble—just +like a housemaid. I knew she would—I warned her," and her laugh was +actually shrill.</p> + +<p>It was inevitable—and ghastly—that he should suddenly see Robin with +her white eyelids dropped over her basket of sewing by the window in the +Tower room at Darreuch. It rose as clear as a picture on a screen and he +felt sick with actual terror.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to the Duchess and ask her questions until she can't face me +without telling the truth. If she's nasty I'll talk to the War Work +people who crowd her house. They all saw Robin and the wide-awake ones +will understand when I'm maternal and tragic and insist on knowing. +I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> go to Mrs. Muir and talk to her. It will be fun to see her face and +the Duchess'."</p> + +<p>He had never suspected her of malice such as this. And even in the midst +of his ghastly dismay he saw that it was merely the malice of an angrily +spiteful selfish child of bad training and with no heart. There was +nothing to appeal to—nothing to arrest and control. She might repent +her insanity in a few days but for the period of her mood she would do +her senseless worst.</p> + +<p>"Your daughter has not done what you profess to believe," he said. "You +do not believe it. Will you tell me why you propose to do these things?"</p> + +<p>She had worked herself up to utter recklessness.</p> + +<p>"Because of <i>everything</i>," she spat forth. "Because I'm in a +rage—because I'm sick of her and her duchesses. And I'm most sick of +you hovering about her as if she were a princess of the blood and you +were her Grand Chamberlain. Why don't you marry her yourself—baby and +all! Then you'll be sure there'll be another Head of the House of +Coombe!"</p> + +<p>She knew then that she had raved like a fishwife—that, even though +there had before been no fishwives in Mayfair, he saw one standing +shrilling before him. It was in his eyes and she knew it before she had +finished speaking, for his look was maddening. It enraged her even +further and she shook in the air the hand with the big purple amethyst +ring, still clutching the end of the bedizened purple scarf. She was +intoxicated with triumph—for she had reached him.</p> + +<p>"I will! I will!" she cried. "I will—to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"You will not!" his voice rang out as she had never heard it before. He +even took a step forward. Then came the hurried leap of feet up the +narrow staircase and Owen Dela<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>more flung the door wide, panting:</p> + +<p>"You told me to dash in," he almost shouted. "They're coming! We can +rush round to the Sinclairs'. They're on the roof already!"</p> + +<p>She caught the purple scarf around her and ran towards him, for at this +new excitement her frenzy reached its highest note.</p> + +<p>"I will! I will!" she called back to Coombe as she fled out of the room +and she held up and waved at him again the hand with the big amethyst. +"I will, to-morrow!"</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Lord Coombe was left standing in the garish, crowded little drawing-room +listening to ominous sounds in the street—to cries, running feet and +men on fleeing bicycles shouting warnings as they sped at top speed and +strove to clear the way.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + + +<p>It was one of the raids which left hellish things behind it—things +hushed with desperate combined effort to restrain panic, but which +blighted the air people strove to breathe and kept men and women +shuddering for long after and made people waken with sharp cries from +nightmares of horror. Certain paled faces belonged to those who had seen +things and would never forget them. Others strove to look defiant and +cheerful and did not find it easy. Some tried to get past policemen to +certain parts of the city and some, getting past, returned livid and +less adventurous in spirit because they had heard things it was gruesome +to hear. Lord Coombe went the next morning to the slice of a house and +found the servants rather hysterical. Feather had not returned, but they +were not hysterical for that reason. She had probably remained at the +house to which she had gone to see the Zepps. After the excitement was +over, people like the Sinclairs were rather inclined to restore +themselves by making a night of it, so to speak.</p> + +<p>As "to-morrow" had now arrived, Lord Coombe wished to see her on her +return. He had in fact lain awake thinking of plans of defence but had +so far been able to decide on none. If there had been anything to touch, +to appeal to, there might have been some hope, but she had left taste +and fastidiousness scattered in shreds behind her. The War, as she put +it, had made her less afraid of life. She had in fact joined the army +of women who could always live so long as their beauty lasted. At the +be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>ginning of her relations with Lord Coombe she had belonged in a sense +to a world which now no longer existed in its old form. Possibly there +would soon be neither courts nor duchesses and so why should anything +particularly matter? There were those who were taking cataclysms lightly +and she was among them. If her airy mind chanced to have veered and her +temper died down, money or jewels might induce her to keep quiet if one +could endure the unspeakable indignity of forcing oneself to offer them. +She would feel such an offer no indignity and would probably regard it +as a tremendous joke. But she could no more be trusted than a female +monkey or jackdaw.</p> + +<p>Lord Coombe sat among the gewgaws in the drawing room and waited because +he must see her when she came in and at least discover if the weather +cock had veered.</p> + +<p>After waiting an hour or more he heard a taxi arrive at the front door +and stop there. He went to the window to see who got out of the vehicle. +It gave him a slight shock to recognise a man he knew well. He wore +plain clothes, but he was a member of the police force.</p> + +<p>He evidently came into the house and stopped in the hall to talk to the +immature footman who presently appeared at the drawing-room door, +looking shaken because he had been questioned and did not know what it +portended.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" Lord Coombe assisted him with.</p> + +<p>"Some one who is asking about Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. He doesn't seem +satisfied with what I tell him. I took the liberty of saying your +lordship was here and perhaps you'd see him."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> +<p>"Bring him upstairs."</p> + +<p>It was in fact a man who knew Lord Coombe well enough to be aware that +he need make no delay.</p> + +<p>"It was one of the worst, my lord," he said in answer to Coombe's first +question. "We've had hard work—and the hardest of it was to hold +things—people—back." He looked hag-ridden as he went on without any +preparation. He was too tired for prefaces.</p> + +<p>"There was a lady who went out of here last night. She was with a +gentleman. They were running to a friend's house to see things from the +roof. They didn't get there. The gentleman is in the hospital delirious +to-day. He doesn't know what happened. It's supposed something +frightened her and she lost her wits and ran away. The gentleman tried +to follow her but the lights were out and he couldn't find her in the +dark streets. The running about and all the noises and crashes sent him +rather wild perhaps. Trying to find a frightened woman in the midst of +all that—and not finding her—"</p> + +<p>"What ghastly—damnable thing has happened?" Coombe asked with stiff +lips.</p> + +<p>"It's both," the man said, "—it's both."</p> + +<p>He produced a package and opened it. There was a torn and stained piece +of spangled violet gauze folded in it and on top was a little cardboard +box which he opened also to show a ring with a big amethyst in it set +with pearls.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" Coombe ejaculated, getting up from his chair hastily, "Oh! +Good God!"</p> + +<p>"You know them?" the man asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I saw them last night—before she went out."</p> + +<p>"She ran the wrong way—she must have been crazy with fright. This—" +the man hesitated a second here and pulled himself together, "—this is +all that was found except—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good God!" said Lord Coombe again and he walked to and fro rapidly, +trying to hold his body rigid.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman—his name is Delamore—went on looking—after the raid +was over. Some one saw him running here and there as if he had gone +crazy. He was found afterwards where he'd fainted—near a woman's hand +with this ring on and the piece of scarf in it. He's a strong young chap +but he'd fainted dead. He was carried to the hospital and to-day he's +delirious."</p> + +<p>"There—was nothing more?" shuddered Coombe.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, my lord."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Out of unbounded space embodied nothingness had seemed to float across +the world of living things, and into space the nothingness had +disappeared—leaving behind a trinket and a rent scrap of purple gauze.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + + +<p>Six weeks later Coombe was driven again up the climbing road to +Darreuch. There was something less of colour than usual in his face, but +the slightly vivid look of shock observing persons had been commenting +upon had died out. As he had travelled, leaning back upon the cushions +of the railway carriage, he had kept his eyes closed for the greater +part of the journey. When at last he began to open them and look out at +the increasingly beautiful country he also began to look rested and +calm. He already felt the nearing peace of the shrine and added to it +was an immense relaxing and uplift. A girl of a type entirely different +from Robin's might, he knew, have made him feel during the past months +as if he were taking part in a melodrama. This she had wholly saved him +from by the clear simplicity of her natural acceptance of all things as +they were. She had taken and given without a word. He was, as it were, +going home to her now, as deeply thrilled and moved as a totally +different type of man might have gone—a man who was simpler.</p> + +<p>The things he might once have been and felt were at work within him. +Again he longed to see the girl—he <i>wanted</i> to see her. He was going to +the castle in response to a telegram from Dowie. All was well over. She +was safe. For the rest, all calamity had been kept from her knowledge +and, as he had arranged it, the worst would never reach her. In course +of time she would learn all it was necessary that she should know of +her mother'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>s death.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Macaur led him to one of his own rooms she glowed red and +expectantly triumphant.</p> + +<p>"The young lady, your lordship—it was wonderfu'!"</p> + +<p>But before she had time to say more Dowie had appeared and her face was +smooth and serene to marvellousness.</p> + +<p>"The Almighty himself has been in this place, my lord," she said +devoutly. "I didn't send more than a word, because she's like a +schoolroom child about it. She wants to tell you herself." The woman was +quivering with pure joy.</p> + +<p>"May I see her?"</p> + +<p>"She's waiting, my lord."</p> + +<p>Honey scents of gorse and heather blew softly through the open windows +of the room he was taken to. He did not know enough of such things to be +at all sure what he had expected to see—but what he moved quickly +towards, the moment after his entrance, was Robin lying fair as a wild +rose on her pillows—not pale, not tragic, but with her eyes wide and +radiant as a shining child's.</p> + +<p>Her smiling made his heart stand still. He really could not speak. But +she could and turned back the covering to show him what lay in her soft +curved arm.</p> + +<p>"He is not like me at all," was her joyous exulting. "He is exactly like +Donal."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The warm, tender breathing, semi-dormant, scarcely sentient-seeming +thing might indeed have been the reincarnation of what had in the past +so peculiarly reached bodily perfection. Robin, who mysteriously knew +every line and curve of the new-born body, could point out how each +limb and feature was an embryonic replica.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Though he looks so tiny, he is not really little," was her lovely +yearning boast. "He is really very big. Dowie has known hundreds of +babies and they were none of them as big as he is. He is a giant—an +angel giant," burying her face in the soft red neck.</p> + +<p>"It seemed to change me into another type of man," Coombe once said to +the Duchess.</p> + +<p>The man into whom he had been transformed was he who lived through the +next few days at Darreuch even as though life were a kindly faithful +thing. Many other men, he told himself, must have lived as he did and he +wondered if any of them ever forgot it. It was a thing set apart.</p> + +<p>He sat by Robin's side; they talked together; he retired to his own +rooms or went out for a long walk, coming back to her to talk again, or +read aloud, or to consider with her the marvel of the small thing by her +side, examining curled hands and feet with curious interest.</p> + +<p>"But though they look so little, they are not really," she always said. +"See how long his fingers are and how they taper. And his foot is long, +too, and narrow and arched. Donal's was like it."</p> + +<p>"Was," she said, and he wondered if she might not feel a pang as he +himself did.</p> + +<p>He wondered often and sometimes, when he sat alone in his room at night, +found something more than wonder in his mind—something that, if she had +not forbidden it, would have been fear because of strange things he saw +in her.</p> + +<p>He could not question her. He dared not even remotely touch on the +dream. She was so well, her child was so well. She was as any young +mother might have been who could be serene in her husband's absence +because she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>knew he was safe and would soon return.</p> + +<p>"Is she always as calm?" he once asked Dowie. "Does she never seem to be +reminded of what would have been if he were alive?"</p> + +<p>Dowie shook her head and he saw that the old anxiousness came back upon +her.</p> + +<p>"My lord, she believes he <i>is</i> alive when she sees him. That's what +troubles me even in my thankfulness. I don't understand, God help me! I +was afraid when she saw the child that it might all come over her again +in a way that would do her awful harm. But when I laid the little thing +down by her she just lay there herself and looked at it as if something +was uplifting her. And in a few seconds she whispered, 'He is like +Donal.' And then she said to herself, soft but quite clear, 'Donal, +Donal!' And never a tear rose. Perhaps," hesitating over it, "it's the +blessedness of <i>time</i>. A child's a wonderful thing—and so is time. +Sometimes," a queer sigh broke from her, "when I've been hard put to it +by trouble, I've said to myself, 'Well the Almighty did give us +<i>time</i>—whatever else he takes away.'"</p> + +<p>But Coombe mysteriously felt that it was not merely time which had +calmed her, though any explanation founded on material reasoning became +more remote each day. The thought which came to him at times had no +connection with temporal things. He found he was gravely asking himself +what aspect mere life would have worn if Alixe had come to him every +night in such form as had given him belief in the absolute reality of +her being. If he had been convinced that he heard the voice of Alixe—if +she had smiled and touched him with her white hands as she had never +touched him in life—if her eyes had been unafraid and they had spoken +together "only of hap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>py things"—and had understood as one soul—what +could the mere days have held of hurt? There was only one possible reply +and it seemed to explain his feeling that she was sustained by something +which was not alone the mere blessedness of time.</p> + +<p>He became conscious one morning of the presence of a new expression in +her eyes. There was a brave radiance in them and, before, he had known +that in their radiance there had been no necessity for bravery. He felt +a subtle but curious difference.</p> + +<p>Her child had been long asleep and she lay like a white dove on her +pillows when he came to make his brief good-night visit. She was very +still and seemed to be thinking. Her touch on his arm was as the touch +of a butterfly when she at last put out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>"He may not come to-night," she said.</p> + +<p>He put his own hand over hers and hoped it was done quietly.</p> + +<p>"But to-morrow night?" trusting that his tone was quiet also. It must be +quiet.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not for a good many nights. He does not know. I must not ask +things. I never do."</p> + +<p>"But it has been so wonderful that you know—"</p> + +<p>On what plane was he—on what plane was she? What plane were they +talking about with such undoubtingness? Heaven be praised his voice +actually sounded natural.</p> + +<p>"I do not know much—except that he is Donal. And I can never feel as if +I were dead again—never."</p> + +<p>"No," he answered. "Never!"</p> + +<p>She lay so still for a few minutes that if her eyes had not been open he +would have thought she was falling asleep. They were so dreamy that +perhaps she was falling asleep and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> he softly rose to leave her.</p> + +<p>"I think—he is trying to come nearer," she murmured. "Good-night, +dear."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> + + +<p>Ominous hours had come and gone; waves of gloom had surged in and +receded, but never receded far enough. It was as though the rising and +falling of some primæval storm was the background of all thought and +life and its pandemonium of sound foretold the far-off heaving of some +vast tidal wave, gathering its unearthly power as it swelled.</p> + +<p>Coombe talking to his close friend in her few quiet hours at Eaton +Square, found a support in the very atmosphere surrounding her.</p> + +<p>"The world at war creates a prehistoric uproar," he said. "The earth +called out of chaos to take form may have produced some such tempestuous +crash. But there is a far-off glow—"</p> + +<p>"You believe—something—I believe too. But the prehistoric darkness and +uproar are so appalling. One loses hold." The Duchess leaned forward her +voice dropping. "What do you know that I do not?"</p> + +<p>"The light usually breaks in the East," Coombe answered.</p> + +<p>"It is breaking in the West to-day. It has always been there and it has +been spreading from the first. At any moment it may set the sky aflame."</p> + +<p>For as time had gone on the world had beheld the colossal spectacle of a +huge nation in the melting pot. And, as it was as a nation the composite +result of the fusion of all the countries of the earth, the +breath-suspended lookers-on beheld it in effect, passionately +commerc<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>ial, passionately generous, passionately sordid, passionately +romantic, chivalrous, cautious, limited, bounded. As American wealth and +sympathy poured in where need was most dire, bitterness became silent +through sheer discretion's sake, when for no more honest reason. As the +commercial tendency expressed itself in readiness and efficiency, +sneering condemnation had become less loud.</p> + +<p>"It will happen. It is the result of the ideals really," Coombe said +further. "And it will come to pass at the exact psychological moment. If +they had come in at the beginning they would have faced the first full +force of the monstrous tidal wave of the colossal German belief in its +own omnipotence—and they would have faced it unawakened, unenraged by +monstrosities and half incredulous of the truth. It was not even their +fight then—and raw fighters need a flaming cause. But the tower of +agonies has built itself to its tottering height before their blazing +eyes. Now it is their fight because it is the fight of the whole world. +Others have borne the first fierce heat and burden of the day, but they +will rush in young and untouched by calamity—bounding, shouting and +singing. They will come armed with all that long-borne horrors and +maddening human fatigue most need. I repeat—it will occur at the exact +psychological moment. They will bring red-hot blood and furious +unbounded courage— And it will be the end."</p> + +<p>In fact Coombe waited with a tense sensation of being too tightly +strung. He had hours when he felt that something might snap. But nothing +must snap yet. He was too inextricably entangled in the arduous work +even to go to Darreuch for rest. He did not go for weeks. All was we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>ll +there however—marvellously well it seemed, even when he held in mind a +letter from Robin which had ended:—</p> + +<p>"He has not come back. But I am not afraid. I promised him I would never +be afraid again."</p> + +<p>In dark and tired hours he steadied himself with a singular +half-realised belief that she would not—that somehow some strange thing +would be left to her, whatsoever was taken away. It was because he felt +as if he were nearing the end of his tether. He had become +hypersensitive to noises, to the sounds in the streets, to the strain +and grief in faces he saw as he walked or drove.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>After lying awake all one night without a moment of blank peace he came +down pale and saw that his hand shook as he held his coffee cup. It was +a livid sort of morning and when he went out for the sake of exercise he +found he was looking at each of the strained faces as if it held some +answer to an unformed question. He realised that the tenseness of both +mind and body had increased. For no reason whatever he was restrung by a +sense of waiting for something—as if something were going to happen.</p> + +<p>He went back to Coombe House and when he crossed the threshold he +confronted the elderly unliveried man who had stood at his place for +years—and the usually unperturbed face was agitated so nearly to panic +that he stopped and addressed him.</p> + +<p>"Has anything happened?"</p> + +<p>"My lord—a Red Cross nurse—has brought"—he was actually quite +unsteady—too unsteady to finish, for the next moment the Red Cross +nurse was at his side—looking very w<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>hitely fresh and clean and with a +nice, serious youngish face.</p> + +<p>"I need not prepare you for good news—even if it is a sort of shock," +she said, watching him closely. "I have brought Captain Muir back to +you."</p> + +<p>"You have brought—?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"He has been in one of the worst German prisons. He was left for dead on +the field and taken prisoner. We must not ask him questions. I don't +know why he is alive. He escaped, God knows how. At this time he does +not know himself. I saw him on the boat. He asked me to take charge of +him," she spoke very quickly. "He is a skeleton, poor boy. Come."</p> + +<p>She led the way to his own private room. She went on talking short +hurried sentences, but he scarcely heard her. This, then, was what he +had been waiting for. Why had he not known? This tremendous thing was +really not so tremendous after all because it had happened in other +cases before— Yet he had never once thought of it.</p> + +<p>"He would not let his wife or his mother see him until he looked more +like himself," he heard the Red Cross nurse say as he entered the room.</p> + +<p>Donal was lying stretched at full length on a sofa. He looked abnormally +long, because he was so thin that he was, as the nurse had said, a +skeleton. His face was almost a death's head, but his blue eyes looked +out of their great hollow sockets clear as tarn water, and with the +smile which Coombe would not have forgotten howsoever long life had +dragged out.</p> + +<p>"Be very careful!" whispered the nurse.</p> + +<p>He knew he must be careful. Only the eyes were alive. The body was a +collapsed thing. He seemed scarcely breathing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> his voice was a thread.</p> + +<p>"Robin!" Coombe caught as he bent close to him. "Robin!"</p> + +<p>"She is well, dear boy!" How his voice shook! "I have taken care of +her."</p> + +<p>The light leaped up into the blue for a second. The next the lids +dropped and the nurse sprang forward because he had slipped into a faint +so much like death that it might well have rent hope from a looker-on.</p> + +<p>For the next hour, and indeed for many following, there was unflagging +work to be done. The Red Cross Nurse was a capable, swiftly moving +woman, with her resources at her finger's ends, and her quick wits about +her. Almost immediately two doctors from the staff, in charge of the +rooms upstairs were on the spot and at work with her. By what +lightning-flashed sentences she conveyed to them, without pausing for a +second, the facts it was necessary for them to know, was +incomprehensible to Coombe, who could only stand afar off and wait, +watching the dead face. Its sunken temples, cheeks and eyes, and the +sharply carven bone outline were heart gripping.</p> + +<p>It seemed hours before one of the doctors as he bent over the couch +whispered,</p> + +<p>"The breathing is a little better—"</p> + +<p>It was not possible that he should be moved, but the couch was broad and +deeply upholstered and could be used temporarily as a bed. Every +resource of medical science was within reach. Nurse Jones, who had been +on her way home to take a rest, was so far ensnared by unusual interest +that she wished to be allowed to remain on duty. There were other nurses +who could be called on at any moment of either night or day. There were +doctors of i<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>ndisputable skill who were also fired by the mere histrionic +features of the case. The handsome, fortunate young fellow who had been +supposed torn to fragments had by some incomprehensible luck been aided +to drag himself home—perhaps to die of pure exhaustion.</p> + +<p>Was it really hours before Coombe saw the closed eyes weakly open? But +the smile was gone and they seemed to be looking at something not in the +room.</p> + +<p>"They will come—in," the words dragged out scarcely to be heard. +"Jackson—said—said—they—would." The eyes dropped again and the +breathing was a mere flutter.</p> + +<p>Nurse Jones was in fact filled with much curiosity concerning and +interest in the Marquis of Coombe. She was a clever and well trained +person, but socially a simple creature, who in an inoffensive way "loved +a lord." If her work had not absorbed her she could not have kept her +eyes from this finely conventional and rather unbending-looking man +who—keeping himself out of the way of all who were in charge of the +seemingly almost dead boy—still would not leave the room, and watched +him with a restrained passion of such feeling as it was not natural to +see in the eyes of men. Marquis or not he had gone through frightful +things in his life and this boy meant something tremendous to him. If he +couldn't be brought back—! Despite the work her swift eye darted +sideways at the Marquis.</p> + +<p>When at length another nurse took her place and she was going out of the +room, he moved quickly towards her and spoke.</p> + +<p>"May I ask if I may speak to you alone for a few minutes? I have no +right to keep you from your rest. I assure you I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> won't."</p> + +<p>"I'll come," she answered. What she saw in the man's face was that, +because she had brought the boy, he actually clung to her. She had been +clung to many times before, but never by a man who looked quite like +this. There was <i>more</i> than you could see.</p> + +<p>He led her to a smaller room near by. He made her sit down, but he did +not sit himself. It was plain that he did not mean to keep her from her +bed—though he was in hard case if ever man was. His very determination +not to impose on her caused her to make up her mind to tell him all she +could, though it wasn't much.</p> + +<p>"Captain Muir's mother believes that he is dead," he said. "It is plain +that no excitement must approach him—even another person's emotion. He +was her idol. She is in London. <i>Must</i> I send for her—or would it be +safe to wait?"</p> + +<p>"There have been minutes to-day when if I'd known he had a mother I +should have said she must be sent for," was her answer. "To-night I +believe—yes, I <i>do</i>—that it would be better to wait and watch. Of +course the doctors must really decide."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I will speak to them. But I confess I wanted to ask <i>you</i>." +How he did cling to her!</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said again. "I will not keep you."</p> + +<p>He opened the door and waited for her to pass—as if she had been a +marchioness herself, she thought. In spite of his desperate eyes he +didn't forget a single thing. He so moved her that she actually turned +back.</p> + +<p>"You don't know anything yet— Some one you're fond of coming back from +the grave must make you half mad to know how it happened," she said. "I +don't know much myself, but I'll tell you all I was able to find out. +He wa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>s light headed when I found him trying to get on the boat. When I +spoke to him he just caught my hand and begged me to stay with him. He +wanted to get to you. He'd been wandering about, starved and hiding. If +he'd been himself he could have got help earlier. But he'd been ill +treated and had seen things that made him lose his balance. He couldn't +tell a clear story. He was too weak to talk clearly. But I asked +questions now and then and listened to every word he said when he +rambled because of his fever. Jackson was a fellow prisoner who died of +hemorrhage brought on by brutality. Often I couldn't understand him, but +he kept bringing in the name of Jackson. One thing puzzled me very much. +He said several times 'Jackson taught me to dream of Robin. I should +never have seen Robin if I hadn't known Jackson.' Now 'Robin' is a boy's +name—but he said 'her' and 'she' two or three times as if it were a +girl's."</p> + +<p>"Robin is his wife," said Coombe. He really found the support of the +door he still held open, useful for the moment.</p> + +<p>An odd new interest sharpened in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then he's been dreaming of her." She almost jerked it out—as if in +sudden illumination almost relief. "He's been dreaming of her—! And it +may have kept him alive." She paused as if she were asking questions of +her own mind. "I wonder," dropped from her in slow speculation, "if she +has been dreaming of <i>him</i>?"</p> + +<p>"He was not dead—he was not an angel—he was Donal!" Robin had +persisted from the first. He had not been dead. In some incredibly +hideous German prison—in the midst of inhuman horrors and the +blackness of what must have been despair—he had been alive, and had +dream<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>ed as she had.</p> + +<p>Nurse Jones looked at him, waiting. Even if nurses had not been, +presumably, under some such bond of honourable secrecy as constrained +the medical profession, he knew she was to be trusted. Her very look +told him.</p> + +<p>"She did dream of him," he said. "She was slipping fast down the slope +to death and he caught her back. He saved her life and her child's. She +was going to have a child."</p> + +<p>They were both quite silent for a few moments. The room was still. Then +the woman drew her hand with a quick odd gesture across her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Queer things happened in the last century, but queerer ones are going +to happen in this—if people will let them. Doctors and nurses see and +think a lot they can't talk about. They're always on the spot at what +seems to be the beginning and the ending. These black times have opened +up the ways. 'Queer things,' I said," with sudden forcefulness. "They're +not queer. It's only laws we haven't known about. It's the writing on +the scroll that we couldn't read. We're just learning the alphabet." +Then after a minute more of thought, "Those two—were they particularly +fond of each other—more to each other than most young couples?"</p> + +<p>"They loved each other the hour they first met—when they were little +children. It was an unnatural shock to them both when they were parted. +They seemed to be born mated for life."</p> + +<p>"That was the reason," she said quite relievedly. "I can understand +that. It's as orderly as the stars." Then she added with a sudden, +strong, quite normal conviction, and her tiredness seemed to drop from +her, "He won't die<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>—that beautiful boy," she said. "He can't. It's not +meant. They're going on, those three. He's the most splendid human thing +I ever handled—skeleton as he is. His very bones are magnificent as he +lies there. And that smile of his that's deep in the blue his eyes are +made of—it can only flicker up for a second now—but it can't go out. +He's safe, even this minute, though you mayn't believe it."</p> + +<p>"I do believe it," Coombe said.</p> + +<p>And he stood there believing it, when she went through the open door and +left him.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2> + + +<p>It was long before the dropped eyelids could lift and hold themselves +open for more than a few seconds and long before the eyes wore their old +clear look. The depths of the collapse after prolonged tortures of +strain and fear was such as demanded a fierce and unceasing fight of +skill and unswerving determination on the part of both doctors and +nurses. There were hours when what seemed to be strange, deathly drops +into abysses of space struck terror into most of those who stood by +looking on. But Nurse Jones always believed and so did Coombe.</p> + +<p>"You needn't send for his mother yet," she said without flinching. "You +and I know something the others don't know, Lord Coombe. That child and +her baby are holding him back though they don't know anything about it."</p> + +<p>It revealed itself to him that her interest in things occult and +apparently unexplained by material processes had during the last few +years intensely absorbed her in private. Her feeling, though intense, +was intelligent and her processes of argument were often convincing. He +became willing to answer her questions because he felt sure of her. He +lent her the books he had been reading and in her hard-earned hours of +leisure she plunged deep into them.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I read sometimes when I ought to be sleeping, but it rests +me—I tell you it <i>rests</i> me. I'm finding out that there's strength +outside of all this and you can draw on it. It's there waiting," she +said. "Everybody will know abou<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>t its being there—in course of time."</p> + +<p>"But the time seems long," said Coombe.</p> + +<p>Concerning the dream she had many interesting theories. She was at first +disturbed and puzzled because it had stopped. She was anxious to find +out whether it had come back again, but, like Lord Coombe, she realised +that Robin's apparent calm must on no account be disturbed. If her +health-giving serenity could be sustained for a certain length of time, +the gates of Heaven would open to her. But at first Nurse Jones asked +herself and Lord Coombe some troubled questions.</p> + +<p>It came about at length that she appeared one night, in the room where +their first private talk had taken place and she had presented herself +on her way to bed, because she had something special to say.</p> + +<p>"It came to me when I awakened this morning as if it had been told to me +in the night. Things often seem to come that way. Do you remember, Lord +Coombe, that she said they only talked about happy things?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She said it several times," Coombe answered.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember that he never told her where he came from? And she knew +that she must not ask questions? How <i>could</i> he have told her of that +hell—how could he?"</p> + +<p>"You are right—quite!"</p> + +<p>"I feel sure I am. When he can talk he will tell you—if he remembers. I +wonder how much they remember—except the relief and the blessed +happiness of it? Lord Coombe, I believe as I believe I'm in this room, +that when he knew he was going to face the awful risk of trying to +escape, he knew he mustn't tell her. And he knew that in crawling +through dangers and hiding in ditche<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>s he could never be sure of being +able to lie down to sleep and concentrate on sending his soul to her. So +he told her that he might not come for some time. Oh, lord! If he'd been +caught and killed he could never— No! No!" obstinately, "even then he +would have got back in some form—in some way. I've got to the point of +believing as much as that. He was hers!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Yes. Yes," was all his slow answer. But there was deep thought in +each detached word and when she went away he walked up and down the room +with leisurely steps, looking down at the carpet.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As many hours of the day and night as those in authority would allow him +Lord Coombe sat and watched by Donal's bed. He watched from well hidden +anxiousness to see every subtle change recording itself on his being; he +watched from throbbing affection and longing to see at once any tinge of +growing natural colour, any unconscious movement perhaps a shade +stronger than the last. It was his son who lay there, he told himself, +it was the son he had remotely yearned for in his loneliness; if he had +been his father watching his sunk lids with bated breath, he would have +felt just these unmerciful pangs.</p> + +<p>He also watched because in the boy's hours of fevered unconsciousness he +could at times catch words—sometimes broken sentences, which threw +ghastly light upon things past. Sometimes their significance was such as +made him shudder. A condition the doctors most dreaded was one in which +monstrous scenes seem lived again—scenes in which cruelties and +maddening suffering and despairing death itself rose vividly from the +depth of subconsciousness and cried aloud for vengeance. Sometime<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>s Donal +shuddered, tearing at his chest with both hands, more than once he lay +sobbing until only skilled effort prevented his sobs from becoming +choking danger.</p> + +<p>"It may be years after he regains his strength," the chief physician +said, "years before it will be safe to ask him for detail. On my own +part I would <i>never</i> bring such horrors back to a man. You may have +noticed how the men who have borne most, absolutely refuse to talk."</p> + +<p>"It's an accursed fool who tries to make them," broke in one of the +younger men. "There was a fellow who had been pinned up against a barn +door and left to hang there—and a coarse, loud-mouthed lunatic asked +him to describe how it felt. The chap couldn't stand it. Do you know +what he did? He sprang at him and knocked him down. He apologized +afterwards and said it was his nerves. But there's not a man who was +there who will ever speak to that other brute again."</p> + +<p>The man whose name was Jackson seemed to be a clinging memory to the +skeleton when its mind wandered in the past Hades. He had been in some +way very close to the boy. He had died somehow—cruelly. There had been +blood—blood—and no one would help. Some devil had even laughed. When +that scene came back the doctors and nurses held their breath and +silently worked hard. Nothing seemed quite as heart-rending as what had +happened to Jackson. But there were endless other things to shudder at.</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>So the time passed and Nurse Jones found many times that she must stop +at his door on her way to her rest to say, "Don't look like that, Lord +Coombe. You need not send<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> for his mother yet."</p> + +<p>Then at last—and it had been like travelling for months waterless in a +desert—she came in one day with a new and elate countenance. "Mrs. Muir +is a quiet, self-controlled woman, isn't she?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Entirely self-controlled and very quiet," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Then if you will speak to Dr. Beresford about it I know he will allow +her to see Captain Muir for a few minutes. And, thank God, it's not +because if she doesn't see him now she'll never see him alive again. He +has all his life before him."</p> + +<p>"Please sit down, Nurse," Coombe spoke hastily and placed a chair as he +spoke. He did so because he had perceiving eyes.</p> + +<p>She sat down and covered her face with her apron for a moment. She made +no sound or movement, but caught a deep quick breath two or three times. +The relaxed strain had temporarily overpowered her. She uncovered her +face and got up almost immediately. She was not likely to give way +openly to her emotions.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Lord Coombe," she said. "I've never had a case that gripped +hold of me as this has. I've often felt as though that poor half-killed +boy was more to me than he is. You might speak to Dr. Beresford now. +He's just gone in."</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Therefore Lord Coombe went that afternoon to the house before which grew +the plane trees whose leaves had rustled in the dawn's first wind on the +morning Donal had sat and talked with his mother after the night of the +Dowager Duchess of Darte's dance.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> +<p>On his way his thoughts were almost uncontrollable things and he knew +the first demand of good sense was that he should control them. But he +was like an unbelievable messenger from another world—a dark world +unknown, because shadows hid it, and would not let themselves be pierced +by streaming human eyes. Donal was dead. This was what would fill this +woman's mind when he entered her house. Donal was dead. It was the +thought that had excluded all else from life for her, though he knew she +had gone on working as other broken women had done. What did people say +to women whose sons had been dead and had come back to life? It had +happened before. What <i>could</i> one say to prepare them for the +transcendent shock of joy? What preparation could there be?</p> + +<p>"God help me!" he said to himself with actual devoutness as he stood at +the door.</p> + +<p>He had seen Helen Muir once or twice since the news of her loss had +reached her and she had looked like a most beautiful ghost and shadow of +herself. When she came into her drawing-room to meet him she was more of +a ghost and shadow than when they had last met and he saw her lips +quiver at the mere sight of him, though she came forward very quietly.</p> + +<p>Whatsoever helped him in response to his unconscious appeal brought to +him suddenly a wave of comprehension of her and of himself as creatures +unexpectedly near each other as they had never been before. The feeling +was remotely akin to what had been awakened in him by the pure gravity +and tenderness of Robin's baptismal good-bye kiss. He was human, she was +human, they had both been forced to bear suffering. He was bringing joy +to her.</p> + +<p>He met her almost as she entered the door. He made several quick steps +and he took both her hands in his and held them. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>t was a thing so +unheard of that she stopped and stood quite still, looking up at him.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit down here," he said, drawing her towards a sofa and he did +not let her hands go, and sat down at her side while she stared at him +and her breath began to come and go quickly.</p> + +<p>"What—?" she began, "You are changed—quite different—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am changed. Everything is changed—for us both!"</p> + +<p>"For us—" She touched her breast weakly. "For me—as well as you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, and he still held her hands protectingly and kept +his altered eyes—the eyes of a strangely new man—upon her. They were +living, human, longing to help her—who had so long condemned him. His +hands were even warm and held hers as if to give her support.</p> + +<p>"You are a calm, well-balanced woman," he said. "And joy does not kill +people—even hurt them."</p> + +<p>There could be only one joy—only one! And she knew he knew there could +be no other. She sprang from her seat.</p> + +<p>"Donal!" she cried out so loud that the room rang. "Donal! Donal!"</p> + +<p>He was on his feet also because he still wonderfully did not let her go.</p> + +<p>"He is at my house. He has been there for weeks because we have had to +fight for his life. We should have called you if he had been dying. Only +an hour ago the doctor in charge gave me permission to come to you. You +may see him—for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>She began to tremble and sat down.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> +<p>"I shall be quiet soon," she said. "Oh, dear God! God! God! Donal!"</p> + +<p>Tears swept down her cheeks but he saw her begin to control herself even +the next moment.</p> + +<p>"May I speak to him at all?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Kiss him and tell him you are waiting in the next room and can come +back any moment. What the hospital leaves free of Coombe House is at +your disposal."</p> + +<p>"God bless you! Oh, <i>forgive</i> me!"</p> + +<p>"He escaped from a German prison by some miracle. He must be made to +forget. He must hear of nothing but happiness. There is happiness before +him—enough to force him to forget. You will accept anything he tells +you as if it were a natural thing?"</p> + +<p>"Accept!" she cried. "What would I <i>not</i> accept, praising God! You are +preparing me for something. Ah! don't, don't be afraid! But—is it +maiming—darkness?"</p> + +<p>"No! No! It is a perfect thing. You must know it before you see him—and +be ready. Before he went to the Front he was married."</p> + +<p>"Married!" in a mere breath.</p> + +<p>Coombe went on in quick sentences. She must be prepared and she could +bear anything in the rapture of her joy.</p> + +<p>"He married in secret a lonely child whom the Dowager Duchess of Darte +had taken into her household. We have both taken charge of her since we +discovered she was his wife. We thought she was his widow. She has a +son. Before her marriage she was Robin Gareth-Lawless."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she cried brokenly. "He would have told me—he wanted to tell +me—but he could not—because I was so hard! Oh! poor motherless +children!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> +<p>"You never were hard, I could swear," Coombe said. "But perhaps you have +changed—as I have. If he had not thought I was hard he might have told +me— Shall we go to him at once?"</p> + +<p>Together they went without a moment's delay.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2> + + +<p>The dream had come back and Robin walked about the moor carrying her +baby in her arms, even though Dowie followed her. She laid him on the +heather and let him listen to the skylarks and there was in her face +such a look, that, in times past if she had seen it, Dowie would have +believed that it could only mean translation from earth.</p> + +<p>But when Lord Coombe came for a brief visit he took Dowie to walk alone +with him upon the moor. When they set out together she found herself +involuntarily stealing furtive sidelong glances at him. There was that +in his face which drew her eyes in spite of her. It was a look so +intense and new that once she caught her breath, trembling. It was then +that he turned to look at her and began to talk. He began—and went +on—and as she listened there came to her sudden flooding tears and more +than once a loud startled sob of joy.</p> + +<p>"But he begs that she shall not see him until he is less ghastly to +behold. He says the memory of such a face would tell her things she must +never know. His one thought is that she must not know. Things happen to +a man's nerves when he has seen and borne the ultimate horrors. Men have +gone mad under the prolonged torture. He sometimes has moments of +hideous collapse when he cannot shut out certain memories. He is more +afraid of such times than of anything else. He feels he must get hold of +himself."</p> + +<p>Dowie's step slackened until it stopped. Her almost awed countenance +told him what she felt she must know or perish. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>felt that she had her +rights and one of them was the right to be told. She had been a strong +tower of honest faith and love.</p> + +<p>"My lord, might I ask if you have told him—all about it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dowie," he answered. "All is well and no one but ourselves will +ever know. The marriage in the dark old church is no longer a marriage. +Only the first one—which he can prove—stands."</p> + +<p>The telling of his story to Donal had been a marvellous thing because he +had so controlled its drama that it had even been curiously undramatic. +He had made it a mere catalogued statement of facts. As Donal had lain +listening his heart had seemed to turn over in his breast.</p> + +<p>"If I had <i>known</i> you!" he panted low. "If we had known each other! We +did not!"</p> + +<p>Later, bit by bit, he told him of Jackson—only of Jackson. He never +spoke of other things. When put together the "bit by bit" amounted to +this:</p> + +<p>"He was a queer, simple sort of American. He was full of ideals and a +kind of unbounded belief in his country. He had enlisted in Canada at +the beginning. He always believed America would come in. He was sure the +Germans knew she would and that was why they hated Americans. The more +they saw her stirred up, the more they hated the fellows they +caught—and the worse they treated them. They were hellish to Jackson!"</p> + +<p>He had stopped at this point and Coombe had noted a dreaded look dawning +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't go on, my boy. It's bad for you," he broke in.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> +<p>Donal shook his head a little as if to shake something away.</p> + +<p>"I won't go on with—that," he said. "But the dream—I must tell you +about that. It saved me from going mad—and Jackson did. He believed in +a lot of things I'd not heard of except as jokes. He called them New +Thought and Theosophy and Christian Science. He wasn't clever, but he +<i>believed</i>. And it helped him. When I'm stronger I'll try to tell you. +Subconscious mind and astral body came into it. I had begun to see +things—just through starvation and agony. I told him about Robin when I +scarcely knew what I was saying. He tried to hold me quiet by saying her +name to me over and over. He'd pull me up with it. He began to talk to +me about dreaming. When your body's not fed—you begin to see clear—if +your spirit is not held down."</p> + +<p>He was getting tired and panting a little. Coombe bent nearer to him.</p> + +<p>"I can guess the rest. I have been reading books on such subjects. He +told you how to concentrate on dreaming and try to get near her. He +helped you by suggestion himself—"</p> + +<p>"He used to lie awake night after night and do it—and I began to +dream— No, it was not a dream. I believe I got to her— He did it—and +they killed him!"</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush!" cried Coombe. "Of all men he would most ardently implore +you to hold yourself still—"</p> + +<p>Donal made some strange effort. He lay still.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he would! Yes—of all the souls in the other world he'd be +strongest. He saved me—he saved Robin—he saved the child—you—all of +us! Perhaps he's here now! He said he'd come if he could. He believed +he could."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<p>He lay quiet for a few seconds and then the Donal smile they had all +adored lighted up his face.</p> + +<p>"Jackson, old chap!" he said. "I can't see you—but I'll do what you +want me to do—I'll do it."</p> + +<p>He fainted the next minute and the doctors came to him.</p> + +<p>The facts which came later still were that Jackson had developed +consumption, and exposure and brutality had done their worst. And Donal +had seen his heart wringing end.</p> + +<p>"But he knew America would come in. I believed it too, because he did. +Just at the right time. 'All the rest have fought like mad till they're +tired—though they'll die fighting,' he said. 'America's not tired. +She's got everything and she sees red with frenzy at the bestiality. +She'll <i>burst</i> in—just at the right time!' Jackson <i>knew</i>!"</p> + +<hr class="chap" style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I must not go trembling to her," Donal said on the morning when at +last—long last, it seemed—he drove with Coombe up the moor road to +Darreuch. "But," bravely, "what does it matter? I'm trembling because +I'm going to her!"</p> + +<p>He had been talking about her for weeks—for days he had been able to +talk of nothing else— Coombe had listened as if he heard echoes from a +past when he would have so talked and dared not utter a word. He had +talked as a boy lover talks—as a young bridegroom might let himself +pour his joy forth to his most sacredly trusted friend.</p> + +<p>Her loveliness, the velvet of her lifting eyes—the wonder of her +trusting soul—the wonder of her unearthly selfless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> sweetness!</p> + +<p>"It was always the same kind of marvel every time you saw her," he said +boyishly. "You couldn't believe there could be such sweetness on +earth—until you saw her again. Even her eyes and her little mouth and +her softness were like that. You had to tell yourself about them over +and over again to make them real when she wasn't there!"</p> + +<p>He was still thin, but the ghastly hollows had filled and his smile +scarcely left his face—and he had waited as long as he could.</p> + +<p>"And to see her with a little child in her arms!" he had murmured. +"Robin! Holding it—and being careful! And showing it to me!"</p> + +<p>After he first caught sight of the small old towers of Darreuch he could +not drag his eyes from them.</p> + +<p>"She's there! She's there! They're both there together!" he said over +and over. Just before they left the carriage he wakened as it were and +spoke to Coombe.</p> + +<p>"She won't be frightened," he said. "I told her—last night."</p> + +<p>Coombe had asked himself if he must go to her. But, marvellously even to +him, there was no need.</p> + +<p>When they stood in the dark little hall—as she had come down the stone +stairway on the morning when she bade him her sacred little good-bye, so +she came down again—like a white blossom drifting down from its +branch—like a white feather from a dove's wing.—But she held her baby +in her arms and to Donal her cheeks and lips and eyes were as he had +first seen them in the Gardens.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> +<p>He trembled as he watched her and even found himself +spellbound—waiting.</p> + +<p>"Donal! Donal!"</p> + +<p>And they were in his arms—the soft warm things—and he sat down upon +the lowest step and held them—rocking—and trembling still more—but +with the gates of peace open and earth and war shut out.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h3>THE END</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr /> +<p> </p> +<p class="blockquot"><b>Transcriber's note:</b> The following non-standard features of the text +have been carefully checked against the original, and retained as +printed:<br /> + Words appearing both hyphenated and joined<br /> + Words with alternate spellings also used in the text<br /> + Some — dashes are spaced, others are joined to the nearest words +both sides. +</p> +<p> </p> +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robin, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBIN *** + +***** This file should be named 18945-h.htm or 18945-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/4/18945/ + +Produced by Hilary Caws-Elwitt and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/18945-h/images/fa_stokes.png b/18945-h/images/fa_stokes.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7646dc2 --- /dev/null +++ b/18945-h/images/fa_stokes.png diff --git a/18945.txt b/18945.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16f2d33 --- /dev/null +++ b/18945.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11410 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robin, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +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: Robin + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: July 30, 2006 [EBook #18945] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBIN *** + + + + +Produced by Hilary Caws-Elwitt and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + ROBIN + + BY + FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT + + AUTHOR OF + "THE SHUTTLE" + "THE SECRET GARDEN" + "THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE OF COOMBE" + ETC. + + + NEW YORK + FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY + FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT + + COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY + THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +THE YEARS BEFORE + +Outline Arranged by Hamilton Williamson + +from + +_THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE OF COOMBE_ + + +In the years when Victorian standards and ideals began to dance an +increasingly rapid jig before amazed lookers-on, who presently found +themselves dancing as madly as the rest--in these years, there lived in +Mayfair, in a slice of a house, Robert Gareth-Lawless and his lovely +young wife. So light and airy was she to earthly vision and so +diaphanous the texture of her mentality that she was known as "Feather." + +The slice of a house between two comparatively stately mansions in the +"right street" was a rash venture of the honeymoon. + +Robert--well born, irresponsible, without resources--evolved a carefully +detailed method of living upon nothing whatever, of keeping out of the +way of duns, and telling lies with aptness and outward gaiety. But a +year of giving smart little dinners and going to smart big dinners ended +in a condition somewhat akin to the feat of balancing oneself on the +edge of a sword. + +Then Robin was born. She was an intruder and a calamity, of course. That +a Feather should become a parent gave rise to much wit of light weight +when Robin was exhibited in the form of a bundle of lace. + +It was the Head of the House of Coombe who asked: + +"What will you do with her?" + +"Do?" Feather repeated. "What is it people 'do' with babies? I don't +know. I wouldn't touch her for the world. She frightens me." + +Coombe said: + +"She is staring at me. There is antipathy in her gaze." He stared back +unwaveringly also, but with a sort of cold interest. + +"The Head of the House of Coombe" was not a title to be found in Burke +or Debrett. It was a fine irony of the Head's own. The peerage recorded +him as a marquis and added several lesser attendant titles. + +To be born the Head of the House is a weighty and awe-inspiring +thing--one is called upon to be an example. + +"I am not sure what I am an example of--or to," he said, on one +occasion, in his light, rather cold and detached way, "which is why I at +times regard myself in that capacity with a slightly ribald lightness." + +A reckless young woman once asked him: + +"Are you as wicked as people say you are?" + +"I really don't know. It is so difficult to decide," he answered. +"Perhaps I am as wicked as I know how to be. And I may have painful +limitations or I may not." + +He had reached the age when it was safe to apply to him that vague term +"elderly," and marriage might have been regarded as imperative. But he +had remained unmarried and seemed to consider his abstinence entirely +his own affair. + +Courts and capitals knew him, and his opportunities were such as gave +him all ease as an onlooker. He saw closely those who sat with knit +brows and cautiously hovering hand at the great chess-board which is +formed by the map of Europe. + +As a statesman or a diplomat he would have gone far, but he had been too +much occupied with Life as an entertainment, too self-indulgent for work +of any order. Having, however, been born with a certain type of brain, +it observed and recorded in spite of him, thereby adding flavour and +interest to existence. But that was all. + +Texture and colour gave him almost abnormal pleasure. For this reason, +perhaps, he was the most perfectly dressed man in London. + +It was at a garden-party that he first saw Feather. When his eyes fell +upon her, he was talking to a group of people and he stopped speaking. +Some one standing quite near him said afterwards that he had, for a +second or so, became pale--almost as if he saw something which +frightened him. He was still rather pale when Feather lifted her eyes to +him. But he had not talked to her for fifteen minutes before he knew +that there was no real reason why he should ever again lose his colour +at the sight of her. He had thought, at first, there was. + +This was the beginning of an acquaintance which gave rise to much +argument over tea-cups regarding the degree of Coombe's interest in her. +Remained, however, the fact that he managed to see a great deal of her. +Feather was guilelessly doubtless concerning him. She was quite sure +that he was in love with her, and very practically aware that the more +men of the class of the Head of the House of Coombe who came in and out +of the slice of a house, the more likely the dwellers in it were to get +good invitations and continued credit. + +The realisation of these benefits was cut short. Robert, amazingly and +unnaturally, failed her by dying. He was sent away in a hearse and the +tiny house ceased to represent hilarious little parties. + +Bills were piled high everywhere. The rent was long overdue and must be +paid. She had no money to pay it, none to pay the servants' wages. + +"It's awful--it's awful--it's awful!" broke out between her sobs. + +From her bedroom window--at evening--she watched "Cook," the smart +footman, the nurse, the maids, climb into four-wheelers and be driven +away. + +"They're gone--all of them!" she gasped. "There's no one left in the +house. It's empty!" + +Then was Feather seized with a panic. She had something like hysterics, +falling face downward upon the carpet and clutching her hair until it +fell down. She was not a person to be judged--she was one of the +unexplained incidents of existence. + +The night drew in more closely. A prolonged wailing shriek tore through +the utter soundlessness of the house. It came from the night-nursery. It +was Robin who had wakened and was screaming. + +"I--I _won't_!" Feather protested, with chattering teeth. "I won't! I +_won't_!" + +She had never done anything for the child since its birth. To reach her +now, she would be obliged to go out into the dark--past Robert's +bedroom--_the_ room. + +"I--I couldn't--even if I wanted to!" she quaked. "I daren't! I +daren't! I wouldn't do it--for a _million pounds_!" + +The screams took on a more determined note. She flung herself on her +bed, burrowing her head under the coverings and pillows she dragged over +her ears to shut out the sounds. + + * * * * * + +Feather herself had not known, nor in fact had any other human being +known why Lord Coombe drifted into seeming rather to follow her about. +But there existed a reason, and this it was, and this alone, which +caused him to appear--the apotheosis of exquisite fitness in form--at +her door. + +He listened while she poured it all forth, sobbing. Her pretty hair +loosened itself and fell about her in wild but enchanting disorder. + +"I would do anything--_any one_ asked me, if they would take care of +me." + +A shuddering knowledge that it was quite true that she would do anything +for any man who would take care of her produced an effect on him nothing +else would have produced. + +"Do I understand," he said, "that you are willing that _I_ should +arrange this for you?" + +"Do you mean--really?" she faltered. "Will you--will you--?" + +Her uplifted eyes were like a young angel's brimming with crystal drops +which slipped--as a child's tears slip--down her cheeks. + + * * * * * + +The florist came and refilled the window-boxes of the slice of a house +with an admirable arrangement of fresh flowers. It became an +established fact that the household had not fallen to pieces, and its +frequenters gradually returned to it, wearing, indeed, the air of people +who had never really remained away from it. + +As a bird in captivity lives in its cage and, perhaps, believes it to be +the world, Robin lived in her nursery. She was put to bed and taken up, +she was fed and dressed in it, and once a day she was taken out of it +downstairs and into the street. That was all. + +It is a somewhat portentous thing to realise that a newborn human +creature can only know what it is taught. To Robin the Lady Downstairs +was merely a radiant and beautiful being of whom one might catch a +glimpse through a door, or if one pressed one's face against the window +pane at the right moment. On the very rare occasions when the Lady +appeared on the threshold of the day-nursery, Robin stood and stared +with immense startled eyes and answered in a whisper the banal little +questions put to her. + +So she remained unaware of mothers and unaware of affection. She never +played with other children. Andrews, her nurse--as behooved one employed +in a house about which there "was talk" bore herself with a lofty and +exclusive air. + +"My rule is to keep myself to myself," she said in the kitchen, "and to +look as if I was the one that would turn up noses, if noses was to be +turned up. There's those that would snatch away their children if I let +Robin begin to make up to them." + +But one morning, when Robin was watching some quarrelsome sparrows, an +old acquaintance surprised Andrews by appearing in the Gardens and +engaged her in a conversation so delightful that Robin was forgotten to +the extent of being allowed to follow her sparrows round a clump of +shrubbery out of sight. + +It was while she watched them that she heard footsteps that stopped near +her. She looked up. A big boy in Highland kilts and bonnet and sporan +was standing by her. He spread and curved his red mouth, then began to +run and prance round in a circle, capering like a Shetland pony to +exhibit at once his friendliness and his prowess. After a minute or two +he stopped, breathing fast and glowing. + +"My pony in Scotland does that. His name is Chieftain. I'm called Donal. +What are you called?" + +"Robin," she answered, her lips and voice trembling with joy. He was so +beautiful. + +They began to play together while Andrews' friend recounted intimate +details of a country house scandal. + +Donal picked leaves from a lilac bush. Robin learned that if you laid a +leaf flat on the seat of a bench you could prick beautiful patterns on +the leaf's greenness. Donal had--in his rolled down stocking--a little +dirk. He did the decoration with the point of this while Robin looked +on, enthralled. + +Through what means children so quickly convey to each other the entire +history of their lives is a sort of occult secret. Before Donal was +taken home, Robin knew that he lived in Scotland and had been brought to +London on a visit, that his other name was Muir, that the person he +called "mother" was a woman who took care of him. He spoke of her quite +often. + +"I will bring one of my picture-books to-morrow," he said grandly. "Can +you read at all?" + +"No," answered Robin, adoring him. "What are picture books?" + +"Haven't you any?" he blurted out. + +She lifted her eyes to the glowing blueness of his and said quite +simply, "I haven't anything." + +His old nurse's voice came from the corner where she sat. + +"I must go back to Nanny," he said, feeling, somehow, as if he had been +running fast. "I'll come to-morrow and bring _two_ picture books." + +He put his strong little eight-year-old arms round her and kissed her +full on the mouth. It was the first time, for Robin. Andrews did not +kiss. There was no one else. + +"Don't you like to be kissed?" said Donal, uncertain because she looked +so startled and had not kissed him back. + +"Kissed," she repeated, with a small caught breath. "Ye--es." She knew +now what it was. It was being kissed. She drew nearer at once and lifted +up her face as sweetly and gladly as a flower lifts itself to the sun. +"Kiss me again," she said, quite eagerly. And this time, she kissed too. +When he ran quickly away, she stood looking after him with smiling, +trembling lips, uplifted, joyful--wondering and amazed. + +The next morning Andrews had a cold and her younger sister Anne was +called in to perform her duties. The doctor pronounced the cold serious, +and Andrews was confined to her bed. Hours spent under the trees reading +were entirely satisfactory to Anne. And so, for two weeks, the +soot-sprinkled London square was as the Garden of Eden to Donal and +Robin. + +In her fine, aloof way, Helen Muir had learned much in her stays in +London and during her married life--in the exploring of foreign cities +with her husband. She was not proud of the fact that in the event of the +death of Lord Coombe's shattered and dissipated nephew her son would +become heir presumptive to Coombe Court. She had not asked questions +about Coombe. It had not been necessary. Once or twice she had seen +Feather by chance. She was to see her again--by Feather's intention. + +With Donal prancing at her side, Mrs. Muir went to the Gardens to meet +the child Nanny had described as "a bit of witch fire dancing--with her +colour and her big silk curls in a heap, and Donal staring at her like a +young man at a beauty." + +Robin was waiting behind the lilac bushes and her nurse was already deep +in the mystery of "Lady Audley." + +"There she is!" cried Donal, as he ran to her. "My mother has come with +me. This is Robin, mother! This is Robin." + +Her exquisiteness and physical brilliancy gave Mrs. Muir something not +unlike a slight shock. Oh! No wonder, since she was like that. She +stooped and kissed the round cheek delicately. She took the little hand +and they walked round the garden, then sat on a bench and watched the +children "make up" things to play. + +A victoria was driving past. Suddenly a sweetly hued figure spoke to the +coachman. "Stop here," she said. "I want to get out." + +Robin's eyes grew very round and large and filled with a worshipping +light. + +"It is," she gasped, "the Lady Downstairs!" + +Feather floated near to the seat and paused, smiling. "Where is your +nurse, Robin?" she asked. + +"She is only a few yards away," said Mrs. Muir. + +"So kind of you to let Robin play with your boy. Don't let her bore you. +I am Mrs. Gareth-Lawless." + +There was a little silence, a delicate little silence. + +"I recognized you as Mrs. Muir at once," added Feather, unperturbed and +smiling brilliantly. "I saw your portrait at the Grovenor." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Muir, gently. + +"I wanted very much to see your son; that was why I came." + +"Yes," still gently from Mrs. Muir. + +"Because of Coombe, you know. We are such old friends. How queer that +the two little things have made friends too. I didn't know." + +She bade them good-bye and strayed airily away. + +And that night Donal was awakened, was told that "something" had +happened, that they were to go back to Scotland. He was accustomed to do +as he was told. He got out of bed and began to dress, but he swallowed +very hard. + +"I shall not see Robin," he said in a queer voice. "She won't find me +when she goes behind the lilac bushes. She won't know why I don't come." +Then, in a way that was strangely grown up: "She has no one but me to +remember." + + * * * * * + +The next morning a small, rose-coloured figure stood still for so long +in the gardens that it began to look rigid and some one said, "I wonder +what that little girl is waiting for." + +A child has no words out of which to build hopes and fears. Robin could +only wait in the midst of a slow dark rising tide of something she had +no name for. Suddenly she knew. He was _gone_! She crept under the +shrubbery. She cried, she sobbed. If Andrews had seen her she would have +said she was "in a tantrum." But she was not. Her world had been torn +away. + + * * * * * + +Five weeks later Feather was giving a very little dinner in the slice of +a house. There was Harrowby, a good looking young man with dark eyes, +and the Starling who was "emancipated" and whose real name was Miss +March. The third diner was a young actor with a low, veiled +voice--Gerald Vesey--who adored and understood Feather's clothes. + +Over coffee in the drawing-room Coombe joined them just at the moment +that Feather was "going to tell them something to make them laugh." + +"Robin is in love!" she cried. "She is five years old and she has been +deserted and Andrews came to tell me she can neither eat nor sleep. The +doctor says she has had a shock." + +Coombe did not join in the ripple of laughter, but he looked interested. + +"Robin is a stimulating name," said Harrowby. "_Is_ it too late to let +us see her?" + +"They usually go to sleep at seven, I believe," remarked Coombe, "but of +course I am not an authority." + +Robin was not asleep, though she had long been in bed with her eyes +closed. She had heard Andrews say to her sister Anne: + +"Lord Coombe's the reason. She does not want her boy to see or speak to +him, so she whisked him back to Scotland." + +"Is Lord Coombe as bad as they say?" put in Anne, with bated breath. + +"As to his badness," Robin heard Andrews answer, "there's some that +can't say enough against him. It's what he is in this house that does +it. She won't have her boy playing with a child like Robin." + +Then--even as there flashed upon Robin the revelation of her own +unfitness--came a knock at the door. + +She was taken up, dressed in her prettiest frock and led down the narrow +stairway. She heard the Lady say: + +"Shake hands with Lord Coombe." + +Robin put her hand behind her back--she who had never disobeyed since +she was born! + +"Be pretty mannered, Miss Robin my dear," Andrews instructed, "and shake +hands with his Lordship." + +Each person in the little drawing-room saw the queer flame in the +child-face. She shrilled out her words: + +"Andrews will pinch me--Andrews will pinch me! But--No--No!" + +She kept her hands behind her back and hatred surged up in her soul. + +In spite of her tender years, the doctor held to the theory that Robin +had suffered a shock; she must be taken away to be helped by the bracing +air of the Norfolk coast. Before she went, workmen were to be seen +coming in and out of the house. When she returned to London, she was led +into rooms she had never been in before--light and airy rooms with +pretty walls and furniture. + +It was "a whim of Coombe's," as Feather put it, that she should no +longer occupy the little dog-kennels of nurseries, so these new +apartments had been added in the rear. A whim of his also that Andrews, +whose disciplinary methods included pinching, should be dismissed and +replaced by Dowson, a motherly creature with a great deal of common +sense. Robin's lonely little heart opened to her new nurse, who became +in time her "Dowie." + +It was Dowson who made it clear to Lord Coombe, at length, that Robin +had reached the age when she needed a governess, and it was he who said +to Feather a few days later: + +"A governess will come here to-morrow at eleven o'clock. She is a +Mademoiselle Valle. She is accustomed to the education of young +children. She will present herself for your approval." + +"What on earth can it matter?" Feather cried. + +"It does not matter to you," he answered. "It chances for the time being +to matter to _me_." + +Mademoiselle Valle was an intelligent, mature French woman, with a +peculiar power to grasp an intricate situation. She learned to love the +child she taught--a child so strangely alone. As time went on she came +to know that Robin was to receive every educational advantage, every +instruction. In his impersonal, aloof way Coombe was fixed in his +intention to provide her with life's defences. As she grew, graceful as +a willow wand, into a girlhood startlingly lovely, she learned modern +languages, learned to dance divinely. + +And all the while he was deeply conscious that her infant hatred had not +lessened--that he could show her no reason why it should. + +There were black hours when she was in deadly peril from a human beast, +mad with her beauty. Coombe had almost miraculously saved her, but her +detestation of him still held. + +Her one thought--her one hope--was to learn--learn, so that she might +make her own living. Mademoiselle Valle supported her in this, and +Coombe understood. + + * * * * * + +In one of the older London squares there was a house upon the broad +doorsteps of which Lord Coombe stood oftener than upon any other. The +old Dowager Duchess of Darte, having surrounded herself with almost +royal dignity, occupied that house in an enforced seclusion. She was a +confirmed rheumatic invalid, but her soul was as strong as it was many +years before, when she had given its support to Coombe in his unbearable +hours. She had poured out her strength in silence, and in silence he had +received it. She saved him from slipping over the verge of madness. + +But there came a day when he spoke to her of this--of the one woman he +had loved, Princess Alixe of X----: + +"There was never a human thing so transparently pure, and she was the +possession of a brute incarnate. She shook with terror before him. He +killed her." + +"I believe he did," she said, unsteadily. "He was not received here at +Court afterward." + +"He killed her. But she would have died of horror if he had not struck +her a blow. I saw that. I was in attendance on him at Windsor." + +"When I first knew you," the Duchess said gravely. + +"There was a night--I was young--young--when I found myself face to face +with her in the stillness of the wood. I went quite mad for a time. I +threw myself face downward on the earth and sobbed. She knelt and prayed +for her own soul as well as mine. I kissed the hem of her dress and +left her standing--alone." + +After a silence he added: + +"It was the next night that I heard her shrieks. Then she died." + +The Duchess knew what else had died: the high adventure of youth and joy +of life in him. + +On a table beside her winged chair were photographs of two women, who, +while obviously belonging to periods of some twenty years apart, were in +face and form so singularly alike that they might have been the same +person. One was the Princess Alixe of X---- and the other--Feather. + +"The devil of chance," Coombe said, "sometimes chooses to play tricks. +Such a trick was played on me." + +It was the photograph of Feather he took up and set a strange +questioning gaze upon. + +"When I saw this," he said, "this--exquisitely smiling at me in a sunny +garden--the tomb opened under my feet and I stood on the brink of +it--twenty-five again." + +He made clear to her certain facts which most persons would have +ironically disbelieved. He ended with the story of Robin. + +"I am determined," he explained, "to stand between the child and what +would be inevitable. Her frenzy of desire to support herself arises from +her loathing of the position of accepting support from me. I sympathise +with her entirely." + +"Mademoiselle Valle is an intelligent woman," the Duchess said. "Send +her to me; I shall talk to her. Then she can bring the child." + +And so it was arranged that Robin should be taken into the house in the +old fashioned square to do for the Duchess what a young relative might +have done. And, a competent person being needed to take charge of the +linen, "Dowie" would go to live under the same roof. + +Feather's final thrust in parting with her daughter was: + +"Donal Muir is a young man by this time. I wonder what his mother would +do now if he turned up at your mistress' house and began to make love to +you." She laughed outright. "You'll get into all sorts of messes but +that would be the nicest one!" + + * * * * * + +The Duchess came to understand that Robin held it deep in her mind that +she was a sort of young outcast. + +"If she consorted," she thought, "with other young things and shared +their pleasures she would forget it." + +She talked the matter over with her daughter, Lady Lothwell. + +"I am not launching a girl in society," she said, "I only want to help +her to know a few nice young people. I shall begin with your children. +They are mine if I am only a grandmother. A small dinner and a small +dance--and George and Kathryn may be the beginning of an interesting +experiment." + + * * * * * + +The Duchess was rarely mistaken. The experiment was interesting. For +George--Lord Halwyn--it held a certain element of disaster. It was he +who danced with Robin first. He had heard of the girl who was a sort of +sublimated companion to his grandmother. He had encountered companions +before. This one, as she flew like a blown leaf across the floor and +laughed up into his face with wide eyes produced a new effect and was a +new kind. + +He led her to the conservatory. He was extremely young and his fleeting +emotions had never known a tight rein. An intoxicating hot-house perfume +filled his nostrils. Suddenly he let himself go and was kissing the warm +velvet of her slim little neck. + +"You--you--you've spoiled everything in the world!" she cried. +"Now"--with a desolate, horrible little sob--"now I can only go +back--_back_." She spoke as if she were Cinderella and he had made the +clock strike twelve. Her voice had absolute grief in it. + +"I say,"--he was contrite--"don't speak like that. I beg pardon. I'll +grovel. Don't-- Oh, Kathryn! Come here!" + +This last because his sister had suddenly appeared. + +Kathryn bore Robin away. Boys like George didn't really matter, she +pointed out, though of course it was bad manners. She had been kissed +herself, it seemed. As they walked between banked flowers she added: + +"By the way, somebody important has been assassinated in one of the +Balkan countries. Lord Coombe has just come in and is talking it over +with grandmamma." + +As they neared the entrance to the ballroom she paused with a new kind +of impish smile. + +"The very best looking boy in all England," she said, "is dancing with +Sara Studleigh. He dropped in by chance to call and grandmamma made him +stay. His name is Donal Muir. He is Lord Coombe's heir. Here he comes. +Look!" + +He was now scarcely two yards away. Almost as if he had been called he +turned his eyes toward Robin and straight into hers they +laughed--straight into hers. + +The incident of their meeting was faultlessly correct; also, when Lady +Lothwell appeared, she presented him to Robin as if the brief ceremony +were one of the most ordinary in existence. + +They danced for a time without a word. She wondered if he could not feel +the beating of her heart. + +"That--is a beautiful waltz," he said at last, as if it were a sort of +emotional confidence. + +"Yes," she answered. Only, "Yes." + +Once round the great ballroom, twice, and he gave a little laugh and +spoke again. + +"I am going to ask you a question. May I?" + +"Yes." + +"Is your name Robin?" + +"Yes." She could scarcely breathe it. + +"I thought it was. I hoped it was--after I first began to suspect. I +_hoped_ it was." + +"It is--it is." + +"Did we once play together in a garden?" + +"Yes--yes." + +Back swept the years, and the wonderful happiness began again. + + * * * * * + +In the shining ballroom the music rose and fell and swelled again into +ecstasy as he held her white young lightness in his arm and they swayed +and darted and swooped like things of the air--while the old Duchess and +Lord Coombe looked on almost unseeing and talked in murmurs of +Sarajevo. + + + + +ROBIN + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was a soft starlit night mystically changing into dawn when Donal +Muir left the tall, grave house on Eaton Square after the strangely +enchanted dance given by the old Dowager Duchess of Darte. A certain +impellingness of mood suggested that exercise would be a good thing and +he decided to walk home. It was an impellingness of body as well as +mind. He had remained later than the relative who had by chance been +responsible for his being brought, an uninvited guest, to the party. The +Duchess had not known that he was in London. It may also be accepted as +a fact that to this festivity given for the pleasure of Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless' daughter, she might not have chosen to assume the +responsibility of extending him an invitation. She knew something of his +mother and had sometimes discussed her with her old friend, Lord Coombe. +She admired Helen Muir greatly and was also much touched by certain +aspects of her maternity. What Lord Coombe had told her of the meeting +of the two children in the Gardens, of their innocent child passion of +attraction for each other, and of the unchildlike tragedy their enforced +parting had obviously been to both had at once deeply interested and +moved her. Coombe had only been able to relate certain surface incidents +connected with the matter, but they had been incidents not easy to +forget and from which unusual things might be deduced. No! She would +not have felt prepared to be the first to deliberately throw these two +young people across each other's paths at this glowing moment of their +early blooming--knowing as she did Helen Muir's strongly anxious desire +to keep them apart. + +She had seen Donal Muir several times as the years had passed and had +not been blind to the physical beauty and allure of charm the rest of +the world saw and proclaimed with suitable adjectives. When the intimate +friend who was his relative appeared with him in her drawing-room and +she found standing before her, respectfully appealing for welcome with a +delightful smile, this quite incomparably good-looking young man, she +was conscious of a secret momentary disturbance and a recognition of the +fact that something a shade startling had happened. + +"When a thing of the sort occurs entirely without one's aid and rather +against one's will--one may as well submit," she said later to Lord +Coombe. "Endeavouring to readjust matters is merely meddling with Fate +and always ends in disaster. As an incident, I felt there was a hint in +it that it would be the part of wisdom to leave things alone." + +She had watched the two dancing with a kind of absorption in her gaze. +She had seen them go out of the room into the conservatory. She had +known exactly when they had returned and, seeing the look on their young +faces, had understood why the eyes of the beholders followed them. + +When Lord Coombe came in with the ominous story of the assassination at +Sarajevo, all else had been swept from her mind. There had been place in +her being for nothing but the shock of a monstrous recognition. She had +been a gravely conscious looker-on at the slow but never ceasing growth +of a world peril for too many years not to be widely awake to each sign +of its development. + +"Servia, Russia, Austria, Germany. It will form a pretext and a clear +road to France and England," Lord Coombe had said. + +"A broad, clear road," the Duchess had agreed breathlessly--and, while +she gazed before her, ceased to see the whirl of floating and fluttering +butterfly-wings of gauze or to hear the music to whose measure they +fluttered and floated. + +But no sense of any connection with Sarajevo disturbed the swing of the +fox trot or the measure of the tango, and when Donal Muir walked out +into the summer air of the starlit street and lifted his face, because +already a faint touch of primrose dawn was showing itself on the eastern +sky, in his young world there was only recognition of a vague tumult of +heart and brain and blood. + +"What's the matter?" he was thinking. "What have I been doing-- What +have I been saying? I've been like a chap in a dream. I'm not awake +yet." + +All that he had said to the girl was a simple fact. He had exaggerated +nothing. If, in what now seemed that long-ago past, he had not been a +sturdy, normal little lad surrounded by love and friendliness, with his +days full of healthy play and pleasure, the child tragedy of their being +torn apart might have left ugly marks upon his mind, and lurked there, a +morbid memory. And though, in time, rebellion and suffering had died +away, he had never really forgotten. Even to the cricket-playing, +larking boy at Eton there had now and then returned, with queer +suddenness, recollections which gave him odd moments of resurrected +misery. They passed away, but at long intervals they came back and +always with absolute reality. At Oxford the intervals had been longer +but a certain picture was one whose haunting never lost its clearness. +It was a vision of a colour-warm child kneeling on the grass, her eyes +uplifted, expressing only a lonely patience, and he could actually hear +her humble little voice as she said: + +"I--I haven't anything." And it always roused him to rage. + +Then there was the piteous break in her voice when she hid her eyes with +her arm and said of her beast of a mother: + +"She--doesn't _like_ me!" + +"Damn! Damn!" he used to say every time the thing came back. "Oh! +damn!--damn!" And the expletive never varied in its spontaneity. + + * * * * * + +As he walked under the primrose sky and breathed in the faint fragrant +stir of the freshening morning air, he who had always felt joyously the +sense of life knew more than ever before the keen rapture of living. The +springing lightness of his own step as it rang on the pavement was part +of it. It was as though he were still dancing and he almost felt +something warm and light in his arm and saw a little head of dark silk +near his breast. + +Throughout his life he had taken all his joys to his closest companion +and nearest intimate--his mother. Theirs had not been a common life +together. He had not even tried to explain to himself the harmony and +gaiety of their nearness in which there seemed no separation of years. +She had drawn and held him to the wonder of her charm and had been the +fine flavour of his existence. It was actually true that he had so far +had no boyish love affairs because he had all unconsciously been in love +with the beautiful completeness of her. + +Always when he returned home after festivities, he paused for a moment +outside her bedroom door because he so often found her awake and waiting +to talk to him if he were inclined to talk--to listen--to laugh +softly--or perhaps only to say good-night in her marvel of a voice--a +marvel because its mellow note held such love. + +This time when, after entering the house and mounting the stairs he +reached her door, he found it partly open. + +"Come in," he heard her say. "I went to sleep very early and awakened +half an hour ago. It is really morning." + +She was sitting up in a deep chair by the window. + +"Let me look at you," she said with a little laugh. "And then kiss me +and go to bed." + +But even the lovely, faint early light revealed something to her. + +"You walk like a young stag on the hillside," she said. "You don't want +to go to sleep at all. What is it?" + +He sat on a low ottoman near her and laughed a little also. + +"I don't know," he answered, "but I'm wide awake." + +The English summer dawn is of a magical clear light and she could see +him well. She had a thrilled feeling that she had never quite known +before what a beautiful thing he was--how perfect and shining fair in +his boy manhood. + +"Mother," he said, "you won't remember perhaps--it's a queer thing that +I should myself--but I have never really forgotten. There was a child I +played with in some garden when I was a little chap. She was a beautiful +little thing who seemed to belong to nobody--" + +"She belonged to a Mrs. Gareth-Lawless," Helen interpolated. + +"Then you do remember?" + +"Yes, dear. You asked me to go to the Gardens with you to see her. And +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless came in by chance and spoke to me." + +"And then we had suddenly to go back to Scotland. I remember you wakened +me quite early in the morning--I thought it was the middle of the +night." He began to speak rather slowly as if he were thinking it over. +"You didn't know that, when you took me away, it was a tragedy. I had +promised to play with her again and I felt as if I had deserted her +hideously. It was not the kind of a thing a little chap usually +feels--it was something different--something more. And to-night it +actually all came back. I saw her again, mother." + +He was so absorbed that he did not take in her involuntary movement. + +"You saw her again! Where?" + +"The old Duchess of Darte was giving a small dance for her. Hallowe took +me--" + +"Does the Duchess know Mrs. Gareth-Lawless?" Helen had a sense of +breathlessness. + +"I don't quite understand the situation. It seems the little thing +insists on earning her own living and she is a sort of companion and +secretary to the Duchess. Mother, she is just the same!" + +The last words were a sort of exclamation. As he uttered them, there +came back to her the day when--a little boy--he had seemed as though he +were speaking as a young man might have spoken. Now he was a young man, +speaking almost as if he were a little boy--involuntarily revealing his +exaltation. + +As she had felt half frightened years before, so she felt wholly +frightened now. He was not a little boy any longer. She could not sweep +him away in her arms to save him from danger. Also she knew more of the +easy, fashionably accepted views of the morals of pretty Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless, still lightly known with some cynicism as "Feather." She +knew what Donal did not. His relationship to the Head of the House of +Coombe made it unlikely that gossip should choose him as the exact young +man to whom could be related stories of his distinguished relative, Mrs. +Gareth-Lawless and her girl. But through the years Helen Muir had +unavoidably heard things she thought particularly hideous. And here the +child was again "just the same." + +"She has only grown up." His laugh was like a lightly indrawn breath. +"Her cheek is just as much like a rose petal. And that wonderful little +look! And her eyelashes. Just the same! Do girls usually grow up like +that? It was the look most. It's a sort of asking and giving--both at +once." + +There it was! And she had nothing to say. She could only sit and look at +him--at his beautiful youth all alight with the sudden flame of that +which can set a young world on fire and sweep on its way either carrying +devastation or clearing a path to Paradise. + +His own natural light unconsciousness was amazing. He only knew that he +was in delightful high spirits. The dancing, the music, the early +morning were, he thought, accountable for it. + +She bent forward to kiss his cheek and she patted his hand. + +"My dear! My dear!" she said. "How you have enjoyed your evening!" + +"There never was anything more perfect," with the light laugh again. +"Everything was delightful--the rooms, the music, the girls in their +pretty frocks like a lot of flowers tossed about. She danced like a bit +of thistledown. I didn't know a girl could be so light. The back of her +slim little neck looks as fine and white and soft as a baby's. I am so +glad you were awake. Are you sure you don't want to go to sleep again?" +suddenly. + +"Not in the least. Look at the sun beginning to touch the tips of the +little white clouds with rose. That stir among the leaves of the plane +trees is the first delicious breath of the morning. Go on and tell me +all about the party." + +"It's a perfect time to talk," he laughed. + +And there he sat and made gay pictures for her of what he had seen and +done. He thought he was giving her mere detail of the old Duchess' +dance. He did not know that when he spoke of new tangos, of flowers, of +music and young nymphs like tossed blossoms, he never allowed her for a +moment to lose sight of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless' girl. She was the light +floating over his vision of the happy youth of the assembly--she was the +centre--the beginning and the ending of it all. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +If some uncomplex minded and even moderately articulate man or woman, +living in some small, ordinary respectable London house and going about +his or her work in the customary way, had been prompted by chance upon +June 29th, 1914, to begin to keep on that date a day-by-day diary of his +or her ordinary life, the effects of huge historic events, as revealed +by the every-day incidents to be noted in the streets, to be heard in +his neighbours' houses as well as among his fellow workers, to be read +in the penny or half-penny newspapers, would have resulted--if the +record had been kept faithfully and without any self-conscious sense of +audience--between 1914 and 1918 in the gradual compiling of a human +document of immense historical value. Compared with it, the diaries of +Defoe and Pepys would pale and be flavourless. But it must have been +begun in June, 1914, and have been written with the casualness of that +commonplace realism which is the most convincing realism of all. It is +true that the expression of the uncomplex mind is infrequently +articulate, but the record which would bring home the clearest truth +would be the one unpremeditatedly depicting the effect produced upon the +wholly unprepared and undramatic personality by the monstrous drama, as +the Second Deluge rose for its apparent overwhelming, carrying upon its +flood old civilisations broken from anchor and half submerged as they +tossed on the rising and raging waves. Such a priceless treasure as +this might have been the quite unliterary and unromantic diary of +any--say, Mr. James Simpson of any house number in any respectable side +street in Regents Park, or St. Johns Wood or Hampstead. One can easily +imagine him, sitting in his small, comfortable parlour and bending over +his blotting-pad in unilluminated cheerful absorption after his day's +work. It can also without any special intellectual effort be imagined +that the record might have begun with some such seemingly unprophetic +entry as follows:-- + +"June 29th, 1914. I made up my mind when I was at the office to-day that +I would begin to keep a diary. I have thought several times that I +would, and Harriet thinks it would be a good thing because we should +have it to refer to when there was any little dispute about dates and +things that have happened. To-night seemed a good time because there is +something to begin the first entry with. Harriet and I spent part of the +evening in reading the newspaper accounts of the assassination of the +Austrian Archduke and his wife. There seems to be a good deal of +excitement about it because he was the next heir to the Austrian throne. +The assassination occurred in Bosnia at a place called Sarajevo. +Crawshaw, whose desk is next to mine in the office, believes it will +make a nice mess for the Bosnians and Servians because they have been +rather troublesome about wanting to be united into one country instead +of two, and called Greater Serbia. That seems a silly sort of reason for +throwing bombs and killing people. But foreigners have a way of thinking +bombs settle everything. Harriet brought out her old school geography +and we looked up Sarajevo on the map of Austria-Hungary. It was hard to +find because the print was small and it was spelt Saraievo--without any +j in it. It was just on the line between Bosnia and Servia and the +geography said it was the chief city in Bosnia. Harriet said it was a +queer thing how these places on maps never seemed like real places when +you looked them up and just read their names and yet probably the people +in them were as real to themselves as we were, and there were streets in +them as real as Lupton Street where we were sitting, finding them on the +map on the sitting-room table. I said that bombs were pretty real things +and the sound of this one when it exploded seemed to have reached a long +way to judge from the newspapers and the talk in London. Harriet said my +putting it like that gave her a queer feeling--almost as if she had +heard it and it had made her jump. Somehow it seemed something like it +to me. At any rate we sat still a minute or two, thinking it over. Then +Harriet got up and went into the kitchen and made some nice toasted +cheese for our supper before we went to bed." + +Men of the James Simpson type were among the many who daily passed +Coombe House on their way to and from their office work. Some of them no +doubt caught sight of Lord Coombe himself as he walked or drove through +the entrance gates. Their knowledge of him was founded upon rumoured +stories, repeated rather privately among themselves. He was a great +swell and there weren't many shady things he hadn't done and didn't know +the ins and outs of, but his remoteness from their own lives rendered +these accepted legends scarcely prejudicial. The perfection of his +clothes, and his unusual preservation of physical condition and good +looks, also his habit of the so-called "week-end" continental journeys, +were the points chiefly recalled by the incidental mention of his name. + +If James Simpson, on his way home to Lupton Street with his friend +Crawshaw, chanced to see his lordship's car standing before his door a +few days after the bomb throwing in Sarajevo, he might incidentally have +referred to him somewhat in this wise:-- + +"As we passed by Coombe House the Marquis of Coombe came out and got +into his car. There were smart leather valises and travelling things in +it and a rug or so, as if he was going on some journey. He is a fine +looking man for one that's lived the life he has and reached his age. I +don't see how he's done it, myself. When I said to Crawshaw that it +looked as if he was going away for the week end, Crawshaw said that +perhaps he was taking Saturday to Monday off to run over to talk to the +Kaiser and old Franz Josef about the Sarajevo business, and he might +telephone to the Czar about it because he's intimate with them all, and +the whole lot seem to be getting mixed up in the thing and writing +letters and sending secret telegrams. It seems to be turning out, as +Crawshaw said it would, into a nice mess for Servia. Austria is making +it out that the assassination really was committed to stir up trouble, +and says it wasn't done just by a crazy anarchist, but by a secret +society working for its own ends. Crawshaw came in to supper and we +talked it all over. Harriet gave us cold beef and pickled onions and +beer, and we looked at the maps in the old geography again. We got quite +interested in finding places. Bosnia and Servia (it's often spelled +Serbia) are close up against Austria-Hungary, and Germany and Russia are +close against the other side. They can get into each other's countries +without much travelling. I heard to-day that Russia will have to help +Servia if she has a row with Austria. Crawshaw says that will give +Germany the chance she's been waiting for and that she will try to get +through Belgium to England. He says she hates England. Harriet began to +look pale as she studied the map and saw how little Belgium was and that +the Channel was so narrow. She said she felt as if England had been +silly to let herself get so slack and she almost wished she hadn't +looked at the geography. She said she couldn't help thinking how awful +it would be to see the German army marching up Regent Street and camping +in Hyde Park, and who in goodness' name knew what they might do to +people if they hated England so? She actually looked as if she would +have cried if Crawshaw and I hadn't chaffed her and made her laugh by +telling her we would join the army; and Crawshaw began to shoulder arms +with the poker and I got my new umbrella." + +In this domesticated and almost comfortable fashion did the greatest +tragedy the human race has known since the beginning of the world +gradually prepare its first scenes and reveal glimpses of itself, as the +curtain of Time was, during that June, slowly raised by the hand of +Fate. + +This is not what is known as a "war story." It is not even a story of +the War, but a relation of incidents occurring amidst and resulting from +the strenuousness of a period to which "the War" was a background so +colossal that it dwarfed all events, except in the minds of those for +whom such events personally shook and darkened or brightened the world. +Nothing can dwarf personal anguish at its moment of highest power; to +the last agony and despairing terror of the heart-wrung the cataclysm +of earthquake, tornado, shipwreck is but the awesome back drop of the +scene. + +Also--incidentally--the story is one of the transitions in, and +convulsive changes of, points of view produced by the convulsion itself +which flung into new perspective the whole surface of the earth and the +races existing upon it. + +The Head of the House of Coombe had, as he said, been born at once too +early and too late to admit of any fixed establishment of tastes and +ideals. His existence had been passed in the transition from one era to +another--the Early Victorian, under whose disappearing influences he had +spent his youth; the Late Victorian and Edwardian, in whose more rapidly +changing atmosphere he had ripened to maturity. He had, during this +transition, seen from afar the slow rising of the tidal wave of the +Second Deluge; and in the summer days of 1914 he heard the first low +roaring of its torrential swell, and visualised all that the +overwhelming power of its bursting flood might sweep before it and bury +forever beneath its weight. + +He made seemingly casual crossings of the Channel and journeys which +were made up of the surmounting of obstacles, and when he returned, +brought with him a knowledge of things which it would have been unwise +to reveal carelessly to the general public. The mind of the general +public had its parallel, at the moment, in the temperature of a patient +in the early stages of, as yet, undiagnosed typhoid or any other fever. +Restless excitement and spasmodic heats and discomforts prompted and +ruled it. Its tendency was to nervous discontent and suspicious +fearfulness of approaching, vaguely formulated, evils. These risings of +temperature were to be seen in the very streets and shops. People were +talking--talking--talking. Ordinary people, common people, all kinds of +classes. The majority of them did not know what they were talking +about; most of them talked either uneducated, frightened or blustering +nonsense, but everybody talked more or less. Enormous numbers of +newspapers were bought and flourished about, or pored over anxiously. +Numbers of young Germans were silently disappearing from their places in +shops, factories and warehouses. That was how Germany showed her +readiness for any military happening. Her army was already trained and +could be called from any country and walk in life. A mysterious unheard +command called it and it was obliged to obey. The entire male population +of England had not been trained from birth to regard itself as an +immense military machine, ready at any moment for action. The James +Simpson type of Englishman indulged in much discussion of the pros and +cons of enforced military training of youth. Germany's well known +contempt of the size and power of the British Army took on an aspect +which filled the James Simpsons with rage. They had not previously +thought of themselves as martial, because middle-class England was +satisfied with her belief in her strength and entire safety. Of course +she was safe. She always had been. Britannia Rules the Waves and the +James Simpsons were sure that incidentally she ruled everything else. +But as there stole up behind the mature Simpsons the haunting +realization that, if England was "drawn in" to a war, it would be the +young Simpsons who must gird their loins and go forth to meet Goliath in +his armour, with only the sling and stone of untrained youth and valour +as their weapon, there were many who began to feel that even +inconvenient drilling and discipline might have been good things. + +"There is something quite thrilling in going about now," said Feather to +Coombe, after coming in from a shopping round, made in her new electric +brougham. "One doesn't know what it is, but it's in the air. You see it +in people's faces. Actually shop girls give one the impression of just +having stopped whispering together when you go into a place and ask for +something. A girl who was trying on some gloves for me--she was a thin +girl with prominent watery eyes--had such a frightened look, that I said +to her, just to see what she would say--'I wonder what would happen to +the shops if England got into war?' She turned quite white and answered, +'Oh, Madam, I can't bear to think of it. My favourite brother's a +soldier. He's such a nice big fellow and we're so fond of him. And he's +always talking about it. He says Germany's not going to let England keep +out. We're so frightened--mother and me.' She almost dropped a big tear +on my glove. It _would_ be quite exciting if England did go in." + +"It would," Coombe answered. + +"London would be crowded with officers. All sorts of things would have +to be given for them--balls and things." + +"Cannon balls among other things," said Coombe. + +"But we should have nothing to do with the cannon balls, thank +goodness," exhilaration sweeping her past unpleasant aspects. "One would +be sorry for the Tommies, of course, if the worst came to the worst. But +I must say army and navy men are more interesting than most civilians. +It's the constant change in their lives, and their having to meet so +many kinds of people." + +"In actual war, men who are not merely 'Tommies' actually take part," +Coombe suggested. "I was looking at a ball-room full of them the night +after the news came from Sarajevo. Fine, well-set-up youngsters dancing +with pretty girls. I could not help asking myself what would have +happened to them before the German army crossed the Channel--if they +were not able to prevent the crossing. And what would happen to the +girls after its crossing, when it poured over London and the rest of +England in the unbridled rage of drunken victory." + +He so spoke because beneath his outward coldness he himself felt a +secret rage against this lightness which, as he saw things, had its +parallel in another order of trivial unawareness in more important +places and larger brains. Feather started and drew somewhat nearer to +him. + +"How hideous! What do you mean! Where was the party?" she asked. + +"It was a small dance given by the Duchess, very kindly, for Robin," he +answered. + +"For Robin!" with open eyes whose incredulity held irritation. "The old +Duchess giving parties to her 'useful companion' girl! What nonsense! +Who was there?" sharply. + +"The young fellows who would be first called on if there was war. And +the girls who are their relatives. Halwyn was there--and young Dormer +and Layton--they are all in the army. The cannon balls would be for them +as well as for the Tommies of their regiments. They are spirited lads +who wouldn't slink behind. They'd face things." + +Feather had already forgotten her moment's shock in another thought. + +"And they were invited to meet Robin! Did they dance with her? Did she +dance much? Or did she sit and stare and say nothing? What did she +wear?" + +"She looked like a very young white rose. She danced continually. There +was always a little mob about her when the music stopped. I do not think +she sat at all, and it was the young men who stared. The only dance she +missed--Kathryn told her grandmother--was the one she sat out in the +conservatory with Donal Muir." + +At this Feather's high, thin little laugh broke forth. + +"He turned up there? Donal Muir!" She struck her hands lightly together. +"It's too good to be true!" + +"Why is it too good to be true?" he inquired without enthusiasm. + +"Oh, don't you see? After all his mother's airs and graces and running +away with him when they were a pair of babies--as if Robin had the +plague. I was the plague--and so were you. And here the old Duchess +throws them headlong at each other--in all their full bloom--into each +other's arms. I did not do it. You didn't. It was the stuffiest old +female grandee in London, who wouldn't let _me_ sweep her front +door-steps for her--because I'm an impropriety." + +She asked a dozen questions, was quite humorous over the picture she +drew of Mrs. Muir's consternation at the peril her one ewe lamb had been +led into by her highly revered friend. + +"A frightfully good-looking, spoiled boy like that always plunges +headlong into any adventure that attracts him. Women have always made +love to him and Robin will make great eyes, and blush and look at him +from under her lashes as if she were going to cry with joy--like Alice +in the Ben Bolt song. She'll 'weep with delight when he gives her a +smile and tremble with fear at his frown.' His mother can't stop it, +however furious she may be. Nothing can stop that sort of thing when it +once begins." + +"If England declares war Donal Muir will have more serious things to do +than pursue adventures," was Coombe's comment. He looked serious himself +as he said the words, because they brought before him the bodily +strength and beauty of the lad. He seemed suddenly to see him again as +he had looked when he was dancing. And almost at the same moment he saw +other scenes than ball-rooms and heard sounds other than those drawn +forth by musicians screened with palms. He liked the boy. He was not his +son, but he liked him. If he had been his son, he thought--! He had been +through the monster munition works at Essen several times and he had +heard technical talks of inventions, the sole reason for whose presence +in the world was that they had the power to blow human beings into +unrecognisable, ensanguined shreds and to tear off limbs and catapult +them into the air. He had heard these powers talked of with a sense of +natural pride in achievement, in fact with honest and cheerful self +gratulation. + +He had known Count Zeppelin well and heard his interesting explanation +of what would happen to a thickly populated city on to which bombs were +dropped. + +But Feather's view was lighter and included only such things as she +found entertaining. + +"If there's a war the heirs of great families won't be snatched at +first," she quite rattled on. "There'll be a sort of economising in that +sort of thing. Besides he's very young and he isn't in the Army. He'd +have to go through some sort of training. Oh, he'll have time! And +there'll be so much emotion and excitement and talk about parting +forever and 'This may be the last time we ever meet' sort of thing that +every boy will have adventure--and not only boys. When I warned Robin, +the night before she went away, I did not count on war or I could have +said more--" + +"What did you warn her of?" + +"Of making mistakes about the men who would make love to her. I warned +her against imagining she was as safe as she would be if she were a +daughter of the house she lived in. I knew what I was talking about." + +"Did she?" was Coombe's concise question. + +"Of course she did--though of course she pretended not to. Girls always +pretend. But I did my duty as a parent. And I told her that if she got +herself into any mess she mustn't come to me." + +Lord Coombe regarded her in silence for a moment or so. It was one of +the looks which always made her furious in her small way. + +"Good morning," he said and turned his back and walked out of the room. +Almost immediately after he had descended the stairs she heard the front +door close after him. + +It was the kind of thing which made her feel her utter helplessness +against him and which enraged all the little cat in her being. She +actually ground her small teeth. + +"I was quite right," she said. "It's her affair to take care of herself. +Would he want her to come to _him_ in any silly fix? I should like to +see her try it." + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Robin sat at the desk in her private room and looked at a key she held +in her hand. She had just come upon it among some papers. She had put it +into a narrow lacquered box when she arranged her belongings, after she +left the house in which her mother continued to live. It was the key +which gave entrance to the Gardens. Each householder possessed one. She +alone knew why she rather timidly asked her mother's permission to keep +this one. + +"One of the first things I seem to remember is watching the gardeners +planting flowers," Robin had said. "They had rows of tiny pots with +geraniums and lobelia in them. I have been happy there. I should like to +be able to go in sometimes and sit under the trees. If you do not +mind--" + +Feather did not mind. She herself was not in the least likely to be +seized with a desire to sit under trees in an atmosphere heavy with +nursemaids and children. + +So Robin had been allowed to keep the key and until to-day she had not +opened the lacquer box. Was it quite by accident that she had found it? +She was not quite sure it was and she was asking herself questions, as +she sat looking at it as it lay in her palm. + +The face of the whole world had changed since the night when she had sat +among banked flowers and palms and ferns, and heard the splashing of the +fountain and the sound of the music and dancing, and Donal Muir's voice, +all at the same time. That which had happened had made everybody and +everything different; and, because she lived in this particular house +and saw much of special people, she realised that the growing shudder +in the life about her was only the first convulsive tremor of an +earthquake. The Duchess began to have much more for her to do. She +called on her to read special articles in the papers, and to make notes +and find references. Many visitors came to the house to discuss, to +plan, to prepare for work. A number of good-looking, dancing boys had +begun to come in and out in uniform, and with eager faces and a +businesslike military air which oddly transformed them. The recalcitrant +George was more transformed than any of the rest. His eyes looked almost +fierce in their anxious intensity, his voice had taken on a somewhat +hard defiant ring. It could not be possible that he had ever done that +silly thing by the fountain and that she had splashed him from head to +foot. It was plain that there were young soldiers who were straining at +leashes, who were restless at being held back by the bindings of red +tape, and who every hour were hearing things--true or untrue--which +filled them with blind fury. As days passed Robin heard some of these +things--stories from Belgium--which caused her to stare straight before +her, blanched with horror. It was not only the slaughter and +helplessness which pictured itself before her--it was stories half +hinted at about girls like herself--girls who were trapped and +overpowered--carried into lonely or dark places where no one could hear +them. Sometimes George and the Duchess forgot her because she was so +quiet--people often forgot everything but their excitement and +wrath--and every one who came in to talk, because the house had become a +centre of activities, was full of new panics or defiances or rumours of +happenings or possibilities. + +The maelstrom had caught Robin herself in its whirling. She realised +that she had changed with the rest. She was no longer only a girl who +was looked at as she passed along the street and who was beginning to be +happy because she could earn her living. What was every girl in these +days? How did any girl know what lay before her and those who protected +the land she lived in? What could a girl do but try in some way to +help--in any way to help the fight and the fighters. She used to lie +awake and think of the Duchess' plans and concentrate her thought on the +mastering of details. There was no hour too early or too late to find +her ready to spring to attention. The Duchess had set her preparations +for future possibilities in train before other women had quite begun to +believe in their existence. Lady Lothwell had at first laughed quite +gaily at certain long lists she found her mother occupied with--though +this, it is true, was in early days. + +But Robin, even while whirled by the maelstrom, could not cease thinking +certain vague remote thoughts. The splashing of fountains among flowers, +and the sound of music and dancing were far away--but there was an echo +to which she listened unconsciously as Donal Muir did. Something she +gave no name to. But as the, as yet unheard, guns sent forth vibrations +which reached far, there rose before her pictures of columns of marching +men--hundreds, thousands, young, erect, steady and with clear +eyes--marching on and on--to what--to what? Would _every_ man go? Would +there not be some who, for reasons, might not be obliged--or able--or +ready--until perhaps the, as yet hoped for, sudden end of the awful +thing had come? Surely there would be many who would be too young--or +whose youth could not be spared because it stood for some power the +nation needed in its future. + +She had taken out and opened the lacquered box while thinking these +things. She was thinking them as she looked at the key in her hand. + +"It is not quiet anywhere now," she said to herself. "But there will be +some corner under a tree in the Gardens where it will _seem_ quiet if +one sits quite still there. I will go and try." + +There were very few nursemaids with their charges in the place when she +reached it about an hour later. + +The military element filling the streets engendered a spirit of caution +with regard to nursemaids in the minds of their employers. Even those +who were not young and good-looking were somewhat shepherded. The two or +three quite elderly ones in the Gardens cast serious glances at the girl +who walked past them to a curve in the path where large lilac bushes and +rhododendrons made a sort of nook for a seat under a tree. + +They could not see her when she sat down and laid her book beside her on +the bench. She did not even open it, but sat and looked at the greenery +of the shrubs before her. She was very still, and she looked as if she +saw more than mere leaves and branches. + +After a few minutes she got up slowly and went to a tall bush of lilac. +She plucked several leaves and carried them back to her bench, somewhat +as if she were a girl moving in a dream. Then, with a tiny shadow of a +smile, she took a long pin from under the lapel of her coat and, leaning +forward, began to prick out a pattern on the leaf she had laid on the +wooden seat. She was in the midst of doing it--had indeed decorated two +or three--when she found herself turning her head to listen to +something. It was a quick, buoyant marching step--not a nursemaid's, not +a gardener's, and it was coming towards her corner as if with +intention--and she suddenly knew that she was listening as if the +intention concerned herself. This was only because there are +psychological moments, moods, conditions at once physical and mental +when every incident in life assumes the significance of +intention--because unconsciously or consciously one is _waiting_. + +Here was a crisp tread somehow conveying a suggestion of familiar happy +eagerness. The tall young soldier who appeared from behind the clump of +shrubs and stood before her with a laughing salute had evidently come +hurriedly. And the hurry and laughter extraordinarily brought back the +Donal who had sprung upon her years ago from dramatic ambush. It was +Donal Muir who had come. + +"I saw you from a friend's house across the street," he said. "I +followed you." + +He made no apology and it did not even cross her mind that apology was +conventionally necessary. He sat down beside her and his effect--though +it did not express itself physically--was that of one who was breathing +quickly. The clear blueness of his gaze seemed to enfold and cover her. +The wonderfulness of him was the surrounding atmosphere she had felt as +a little child. + +"The whole world is rocking to and fro," he said. "It has gone mad. We +are all mad. There is no time to wait for anything." + +"I know! I know!" she whispered, because her pretty breast was rising +and falling, and she had scarcely breath left to speak with. + +Even as he looked down at her, and she up at him, the colour and +laughter died out of him. Some suddenly returning memory brought a black +cloud into his eyes and made him pale. He caught hold of both her hands +and pressed them quite hard against his bowed face. He did not kiss them +but held them against his cheek. + +"It is terrible," he said. + +Without being told she knew what he meant. + +"You have been hearing new horrible things?" she said. What she guessed +was that they were the kind of things she had shuddered at, feeling her +blood at once hot and cold. He lifted his face but did not release her +hands. + +"At my friend's house. A man had just come over from Holland," he shook +himself as if to dismiss a nightmare. "I did not come here to say such +things. The enormous luck of catching sight of you, by mere chance, +through the window electrified me. I--I came because I was catapulted +here." He tried to smile and managed it pretty well. "How could I stay +when--there you were! Going into the same garden!" He looked round him +at the greenness with memory awakening. "It's the same garden. The +shrubs have grown much bigger and they have planted some new ones--but +it is the same garden." His look came back to her. "You are the same +Robin," he said softly. + +"Yes," she answered, as she had always answered "yes" to him. + +"You are the same little child," he added and he lifted her hands again, +but this time he kissed them as gently as he had spoken. "God! I'm +glad!" And that was said softly, too. He was not a man of thirty or +forty--he was a boy of twenty and his whole being was vibrating with the +earthquake of the world. + +That he vaguely recognised this last truth revealed itself in his next +words. + +"It would have taken me six months to say this much to you--to get this +far--before this thing began," he said. "I daren't have run after you in +the street. I should have had to wait about and make calls and ask for +invitations to places where I might see you. And when we met we should +have been polite and have talked all round what we wanted to say. It +would have been cheek to tell you--the second time we met--that your +eyes looked at me just as they did when you were a little child. I +should have had to be decently careful because you might have felt shy. +You don't feel shy now, do you? No, you don't," in caressing conviction +and appeal. + +"No--no." There was the note of a little mating bird in the repeated +word. + +This time he spread one of her hands palm upward on his own larger one. +He looked down at it tenderly and stroked it as he talked. + +"It is because there is no time. Things pour in upon us. We don't know +what is before us. We can only be sure of one thing--that it may be +death or wounds. I don't know when they'll think me ready to be sent +out--or when they'll be ready to send me and other fellows like me. But +I shall be sent. I am sitting in a garden here with you. I'm a young +chap and big and strong and I love life. It is my duty as a man to go +and kill other young chaps who love it as much as I do. And they must do +their best to kill me, 'Gott strafe England,' they're saying in +Germany--I understand it. Many a time it's in me to say, 'Gott strafe +Germany.'" + +He drew in his breath sharply, as if to pull himself together, and was +still a moment. The next he turned upon her his wonderful boy's smile. +Suddenly there was trusting appeal in it. + +"You don't mind my holding your hand and talking like this, do you? Your +eyes are as soft as--I've seen fawns cropping among the primroses with +eyes that looked like them. But yours _understand_. You don't mind my +doing this?" he kissed her palm. "Because there is no time." + +Her free hand caught at his sleeve. + +"No," she said. "You're going--you're _going_!" + +"Yes," he answered. "And you wouldn't hold me back." + +"No! No! No! No!" she cried four times, "Belgium! Belgium! Oh! Belgium!" +And she hid her eyes on his sleeve. + +"That's it--Belgium! There has been war before, but this promises from +the outset to be something else. And they're coming on in their +millions. We have no millions--we have not even guns and uniforms +enough, but we've got to stop them, if we do it with our bare hands and +with walls of our dead bodies. That was how Belgium held them back. Can +England wait?" + +"You can't wait!" cried Robin. "No man can wait." + +How he glowed as he looked at her! + +"There. That shows how you understand. See! That's what draws me. That's +why, when I saw you through the window, I had to follow you. It wasn't +only your lovely eyes and your curtains of eyelashes and because you are +a sort of rose. It is you--you! Whatsoever you said, I should know the +meaning of, and what I say you will always understand. It's as if we +answered each other. That's why I never forgot you. It's why I waked up +so when I saw you at the Duchess'." He tried to laugh, but did not quite +succeed. "Do you know I have never had a moment's real rest since that +night--because I haven't seen you." + +"I--" faltered Robin, "have wondered and wondered--where you were." + +All the forces of nature drew him a little nearer to her--though the +gardener who clumped past them dully at the moment only saw a +particularly good-looking young soldier, apparently engaged in agreeable +conversation with a pretty girl who was not a nursemaid. + +"Did you come here because of that?" he asked with frank anxiety. "Do +you come here often and was it just chance? Or did you come because you +were wondering?" + +"I didn't exactly know--at first. But I know now. I have not been here +since I went to live in Eaton Square," she gave back to him. Oh! how +good and beautiful his asking eyes were! It was as he drew even a little +nearer that he saw for the first time the pricked lilac leaves lying on +the bench beside her. + +"Did you do those?" he said suddenly quite low. "Did you?" + +"Yes," as low and quite sweetly unashamed. "You taught me--when we +played together." + +The quick emotion in his flushing face could scarcely be described. + +"How lovely--how _lovely_ you are!" he exclaimed, almost under his +breath. "I--I don't know how to say what I feel--about your remembering. +You little--little thing!" This last because he somehow strangely saw +her five years old again. + +It was a boy's unspoiled, first love making--the charming outburst of +young passion untrained by familiar use to phrases. It was like the +rising of a Spring freshet and had the same irresistible power. + +"May I have them? Will you give them to me with your own little hand?" + +The happy glow of her smiling, as she picked them up and laid them, one +by one, on his open extended palm, was as the glow of the smiling of +young Eve. The dimples playing round her mouth and the quiver of her +lashes, as she lifted them to laugh into his eyes, were an actual peril. + +"Must I give you the pin too?" she said. + +"Yes--everything," he answered in a sort of helpless joy. "I would carry +the wooden bench away with me if I could. But they would stop me at the +gate." They were obliged to treat something a little lightly because +everything seemed tensely tremulous. + +"Here is the pin," she said, taking it from under the lapel of her coat. +"It is quite a long one." She looked at it a moment and then ended in a +whisper. "I must have known why I was coming here--because, you see, I +brought the pin." And her eyelashes lifted themselves and made their +circling shadows again. + +"Then I must have the pin. And it will be a talisman. I shall have a +little flat case made for the leaves and the sacred pin shall hold it +together. When I go into battle it will keep me safe. Bullets and +bayonets will glance aside." He said it, as he laid the treasure away in +his purse, and he did not see her face as he spoke of bullets and +bayonets. + +"I am a Highlander," he said next and for the moment he looked as if he +saw things far away. "In the Highlands we believe more than most people +do. Perhaps that's why I feel as if we two are not quite like other +people,--as if we had been something--I don't know what--to each other +from the beginning of time--since the 'morning stars first sang +together.' I don't know exactly what that means, or how stars sing--but +I like the sound of it. It seems to mean something I mean though I don't +know how to say it." He was not in the least portentous or solemn, but +he was the most strongly feeling and _real_ creature she had ever heard +speaking to her and he swept her along with him, as if he had indeed +been the Spring freshet and she a leaf. "I believe," here he began to +speak slowly as if he were thinking it out, "that there was +something--that meant something--in the way we two were happy together +and could not bear to be parted--years ago when we were nothing but +children. Do you know that, little chap as I was, I never stopped +thinking of you day and night when we were not playing together. I +_couldn't_!" + +"Neither could I stop thinking," said Robin. "I had dreams about seeing +your eyes looking at me. They were blue like clear water in summer. They +were always laughing. I always _wanted_ them to look at me! They--they +are the same eyes now," in a little rush of words. + +Their blueness was on hers--in the very deeps of their uplifted +liquidity. + +"God! I'm _glad_!" his voice was on a hushed note. + +There has never been a limner through all the ages who has pictured--at +such a moment--two pairs of eyes reaching, melting into, lost in each +other in their human search for the longing soul drawing together human +things. Hand and brush and colour cannot touch That which Is and Must +Be--in its yearning search for the spirit which is its life on earth. +Yet a boy and girl were yearning towards it as they sat in mere mortal +form on a bench in a London square. And neither of them knew more than +that they wondered at and adored the beauty in each other's eyes. + +"I didn't know what a little chap I was," he said next. "I'd had a +splendid life for a youngster and I was big for my age and ramping with +health and strength and happiness. You seemed almost a baby to me, +but--it was the way you looked at me, I think--I wanted to talk to you, +and please you and make you laugh. You had a red little mouth with deep +dimples that came and went near the corners. I liked to see them +twinkle." + +"You told me," she laughed, remembering. "You put the point of your +finger in them. But you didn't hurt me," in quick lovely reassuring. +"You were not a rough little boy." + +"I wouldn't have hurt you for worlds. I didn't even know I was cheeky. +The dimples were so deep that it seemed quite natural to poke at +them--like a sort of game." + +"We laughed and laughed. It _was_ a sort of game. I sat quite still and +let you make little darts at them," Robin assisted him. "We laughed like +small crazy things. We almost had child hysterics." + +The dimples showed themselves now and he held himself in leash. + +"You did everything I wanted you to do," he said, "and I suppose that +made me feel bigger and bigger." + +"_I_ thought you were big. And I had never seen anything so wonderful +before. You knew everything in the world and I knew nothing. Don't you +remember," with hesitation--as if she were almost reluctant to recall +the memory of a shadow into the brightness of the moment--"I told you +that I had nothing--and nobody?" + +All rushed back to him in a warm flow. + +"That was it," he said. "When you said that I felt as if some one had +insulted and wronged something of my own. I remember I felt hot and +furious. I wanted to give you things and fight for you. I--caught you in +my arms and squeezed you." + +"Yes," Robin answered. + +"It was because of--that time when the morning stars first sang +together," he answered smiling, but still as _real_ as before. "It +wasn't a stranger child I wanted to take care of. It was some one I +had--belonged to--long--long and long. I'm a Highlander and I know it's +true. And there's another thing I know," with a sudden change almost to +boyish fierceness, "you are one of the things I'm going to face cannon +and bayonets for. If there were nothing else and no one else in England, +I should stand on the shore and fight until I dropped dead and the whole +Hun mass surged over me before they should reach you." + +"Yes," whispered Robin, "I know." + +They both realised that the time had come when they must part, and when +he lifted again the hand nearest to him, it was with the gesture of one +who had reached the moment of farewell. + +"It's our garden," he said. "It's the _same_ garden. Just because there +is no time--may I see you here again? I can't go away without knowing +that." + +"I will come," she answered, "whenever the Duchess does not need me. You +see I belong to nobody but myself." + +"I belong to people," he said, "but I belong to myself too." He paused a +second or so and a strange half puzzled expression settled in his eyes. +"It's only fair that a man who's looking the end of things straight in +the face should have something for himself--to himself. If it's only a +heavenly hour now and then. Before things stop. There's such a lot of +life--and such a lot to live for--forever if one could. And a smash--or +a crash--or a thrust--and it's over! Sometimes I can hardly get hold of +it." + +He shook his head as he rose and stood upright, drawing his splendid +young body erect. + +"It's only fair," he said. "A chap's so strong and--and ready for +living. Everything's surging through one's mind and body. One can't go +out without having _something_--of one's own. You'll come, won't +you--just because there's no time? I--I want to keep looking into your +eyes." + +"I want you to look into them," said Robin. "I'll come." + +He stood still a moment looking at her just as she wanted him to look. +Then after a few more words he bent low and kissed her hands and then +stood straight again and saluted and went away. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +There was one facet of the great stone of War upon which many strange +things were written. They were not the things most discussed or +considered. They were results--not causes. But for the stress of mental, +spiritual and physical tempest-of-being the colossal background of storm +created, many of them might never have happened; but the consequences of +their occurrence were to touch close, search deep, and reach far into +the unknown picture of the World the great War might leave in fragments +which could only be readjusted by centuries of time. + +The interested habit of observation of, and reflection on, her kind +which knew no indifferences, in the mind of the Duchess of Darte, +awakened by stages to the existence of this facet and to the moment of +the writings thereupon. + +"It would seem almost as if Nature--Fate--had meant to give a new +impulse to the race--to rouse human creatures to new moods, to thrust +them into places where they see new things. Men and women are being +dragged out of their self-absorbed corners and stirred up and shaken. +Emotions are being roused in people who haven't known what a real +emotion was. Middle-aged husbands and wives who had sunk into +comfortable acceptance of each other and their boys and girls are being +dragged out of bed, as it were, and wakened up and made to stand on +their feet and face unbelievable possibilities. If you have boys old +enough to be soldiers and girls old enough to be victims--your life +makes a sort of _volte face_ and everyday, worldly comforts and +successes or little failures drop out of your line of sight, and change +their values. Mothers are beginning to clutch at their sons; and even +self-centred fathers and selfish pretty sisters look at their male +relatives with questioning, with a hint of respect or even awe in it. +Perhaps the women feel it more than the men. Good-looking, light-minded, +love-making George has assumed a new aspect to his mother and to +Kathryn. They're secretly yearning over him. He has assumed a new aspect +to me. I yearn over him myself. He has changed--he has suddenly grown +up. Boys are doing it on every hand." + +"The youngest youngster vibrates with the shock of cannon firing, even +though the sound may not be near enough to be heard," answered Coombe. +"We're all vibrating unconsciously. We are shuddering consciously at the +things we hear and are mad to put a stop to, before they go further." + +"Innocent little villages full of homes torn and trampled under foot and +burned!" the Duchess almost cried out. "And worse things than +that--worse things! And the whole monstrosity growing more huge and +throwing out new and more awful tentacles every day." + +"Every hour. No imagination has yet conceived what it may be." + +"That is why the poor human things are clutching at each other, and +finding values and attractions where they did not see them before. +Colonel Marion and his wife were here yesterday. He is a stout man over +fifty and has a red face and prominent eyes. His wife has been so +occupied with herself and her children that she had almost forgotten he +existed. She looked at and listened to him as if she were a bride." + +"I have seen changes of that sort myself," said Coombe. "He is more +alive himself. He has begun to be of importance. And men like him have +been killed already--though the young ones go first." + +"The young ones know that, and they clutch the most frantically. That is +what I am seeing in young eyes everywhere. Mere instinct makes it +so--mere uncontrollable instinct which takes the form of a sort of +desperateness at facing the thousand chances of death before they have +lived. They don't know it isn't actual fear of bullets and shrapnel. +Sometimes they're afraid it's fear and it makes them sick at themselves +and determined to grin and hide it. But it isn't fear--it's furious +Nature protesting." + +"There are hasty bridals and good-bye marriages being made in all +ranks," Coombe put in. "They are inevitable." + +"God help the young things--those of them who never meet again--and +perhaps, also, some of those who do. The nation ought to take care of +the children. If there is a nation left, God knows they will be needed," +the Duchess said. "One of my footmen who 'joined up' has revealed an +unsuspected passion for a housemaid he used to quarrel with, and who +seemed to detest him. I have three women in my household who have +soldier lovers in haste to marry them. I shall give them my blessing and +take care of the wives when they are left behind. One can be served by +old men and married women--and one can turn cottages into small +orphanages if the worst happens." + +There was a new vigour in her splendid old face and body. + +"There is a reason now why I am the Dowager Duchess of Darte," she went +on, "and why I have money and houses and lands. There is a reason why I +have lived when it sometimes seemed as if my usefulness was over. There +are uses for my money--for my places--for myself. Lately I have found +myself saying, as Mordecai said to Esther, 'Who knowest whether thou art +not come to the kingdom for such a time as this.' A change is taking +place in me too. I can do more because there is so much more to do. I +can even use my hands better. Look at them." + +She held them out that he might see them--her beautiful old-ivory +fingers, so long stiffened by rheumatism. She slowly opened and shut +them. + +"I can move them more--I have been exercising them and having them +rubbed. I want to be able to knit and sew and wait on myself and perhaps +on other people. Because I have been a rich, luxurious old woman it has +not occurred to me that there were rheumatic old women who were forced +to do things because they were poor--the things I never tried to do. I +have begun to try." + +She let her hands fall on her lap and sat gazing up at him with a rather +strange expression. + +"Do you know what I have been doing?" she said. "I have been praying to +God--for a sort of miracle. In their terror people are beginning to ask +their Deity for things as they have never done it before. We are most of +us like children waking in horror of the black night and shrieking for +some one to come--some one--any one! Each creature cries out to his own +Deity--the God his own need has made. Most of us are doing it in +secret--half ashamed to let it be known. We are abject things. Mothers +and fathers are doing it--young lovers and husbands and wives." + +"What miracle are you asking for?" + +"For power to do things I have not done for years. I want to walk--to +stand--to work. If under the stress of necessity I begin to do all +three, my doctors will say that mental exaltation and will power have +caused the change. It may be true, but mental exaltation and will power +are things of the soul not of the body. Anguish is actually forcing me +into a sort of practical belief. I am trying to 'have faith even as a +grain of mustard seed' so that I may say unto my mountain, 'Remove hence +to yonder place and it shall be removed.'" + +"'The things which I do, ye shall do also and even greater things than +these shall ye do.'" Coombe repeated the words deliberately. "I heard an +earnest middle-aged dissenter preach a sermon on that text a few days +ago." + +"What?"--his old friend leaned forward. "Are _you_ going to hear +sermons?" + +"I am one of the children, I suppose. Though I do not shriek aloud, +probably something shrieks within me. I was passing a small chapel and +heard a singular voice. I don't know exactly why I went into the place, +but when I sat down inside I felt the tension of the atmosphere at once. +Every one looked anxious or terrified. There were pale faces and stony +or wild eyes. It did not seem to be an ordinary service and voices kept +breaking out with spasmodic appeals, 'Almighty God, look down on us!' +'Oh, Christ, have mercy!' 'Oh, God, save us!' One woman in black was +rocking backwards and forwards and sobbing over and over again, 'Oh, +Jesus! Jesus! Oh, Lord Jesus!'" + +"Part of her body and soul was lying done to death in some field--or by +some roadside," said the Duchess. "She could not pray--she could only +cry out. I can hear her, 'Oh, Lord Jesus!'" + +Later came the morning when the changed George came to say good-bye. He +was wonderfully good-looking in his khaki and seemed taller and more +square of jaw. He made a few of the usual young jokes which were +intended to make things cheerful and to treat affectionate fears +lightly, but his good-natured blue eye held a certain deadly quiet in +its depths. + +His mother and Kathryn were with him, and it was while they were +absorbed in anxious talk with the Duchess that he walked over to where +Robin sat and stood before her. + +"Will you come into the library and let me say something to you? I don't +want to go away without saying it," he put it to her. + +The library was the adjoining room and Robin rose and went with him +without any comment or question. Already the time had come when +formalities had dropped away and people did not ask for trivial +explanations. The pace of events had become too rapid. + +"There are a lot of chances when a man goes out--that he won't come +back," he said, still standing after she had taken a place in the +window-seat he guided her to. "There are not as many as one's friends +can't help thinking--but there are enough to make him feel he'd like to +leave things straight when he goes. What I want you to let me say is, +that the minute I had made a fool of myself the night of the dance, I +knew what an ass I had been and I was ready to grovel." + +Robin's lifted face was quite gentle. Suddenly she was thinking +self-reproachingly, "Oh, poor boy--poor boy!" + +"I flew into a temper and would not let you," she answered him. "It +_was_ temper--but there were things you didn't know. It was not your +fault that you didn't." The square, good-natured face flushed with +relief, and George's voice became even slightly unsteady. + +"That's kind of you," he said, "it's _kind_ and I'm jolly grateful. +Things mean a lot just now--with all one's people in such a state and +trying so pluckily to hide it. I just wanted to make sure that you knew +that _I_ knew that the thing only happened because I was a silly idiot +and for no other reason. You will believe me, won't you, and won't +remember it if you ever remember me?" + +"I shall remember you--and it is as if--that had never happened at all." + +She put out, as she got up, such a kind hand that he grasped it almost +joyously. + +"You have made it awfully easy for me. Thank you, Miss Lawless." He +hesitated a second and then dropped his voice. "I wonder if I dare--I +wonder if it would be cheek--and impudence if I said something else?" + +"Scarcely anything seems cheek or impudence now," Robin answered with +simple sadness. "Nothing ordinary seems to matter because _everything_ +is of so much importance." + +"I feel as if what I wanted to say was one of the things that _are_ +important. I don't know what--older people--or safe ones--would think +about it, but--" He broke off and began again. "To _us_ young ones who +are facing-- It's the only big thing that's left us--in our bit of the +present. We can only be sure of to-day--" + +"Yes--yes," Robin cried out low. "Only to-day--just to-day." She even +panted a little and George, looking into her eyes, knew that he might +say anything, because for a reason she was one of the girls who in this +hour could understand. + +"Perhaps you don't know where our house is," he said quite quickly. "It +is one of those in the Square--facing the Gardens. I might have played +with you there when I was a little chap--but I don't think I did." + +"Nobody did but Donal," she said, quickly also. How did she know that he +was going to say something to her about Donal? + +"I gave him the key to the Gardens that day," he hurried on. "I was at +the window with him when he saw you. I understood in a minute when I saw +his face and he'd said half a dozen words to me. I gave him my key. He +has got it now." He actually snatched at both her hands and gripped +them. It was a _grip_ and his eyes burned through a sort of sudden +moisture. "We can't stay here and talk. But I couldn't _not_ say it! Oh, +I say, be _good_ to him! You would, if he had only a day to live because +some damned German bullet had struck him. You're life--you're +youngness--you're _to-day_! Don't say 'No' to _anything_ he asks of +you--for God's sake, don't." + +"I'd give him my heart in his two hands," gasped Robin. "I couldn't give +him my soul because it was always his." + +"God take care of the pair of you--and be good to the rest of us," +whispered George, wringing her hands hard and dropping them. + +That was how he went away. + +A few weeks later he was lying, a mangled object, in a field in +Flanders. One of thousands--living, laughing, good as honest bread is +good; the possible passer-on of life and force and new thinking for new +generations--one of hundreds of thousands--one of millions before the +end came--nice, healthy, normal-minded George, son and heir of a house +of decent nobles. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +And still youth marched away, and England seemed to swarm with soldiers +and, at times, to hear and see nothing but marching music and marching +feet, though life went on in houses, shops, warehouses and offices, and +new and immense activities evolved as events demanded them. Many of the +new activities were preparations for the comfort and care of soldiers +who were going away, and for those who would come back and would need +more care than the others. Women were doing astonishing work and +revealing astonishing power and determination. The sexes mingled with a +businesslike informality unknown in times of peace. Lovely girls went in +and out of their homes, and from one quarter of London to another +without question. They walked with a brisk step and wore the steady +expression of creatures with work in view. Slim young war-widows were to +be seen in black dresses and veiled small hats with bits of white crape +inside their brims. Sometimes their little faces were awful to behold, +but sometimes they wore a strained look of exaltation. + +The Dowager Duchess of Darte was often absent from Eaton Square. She was +understood to be proving herself much stronger than her friends had +supposed her to be. She proved it by doing an extraordinary amount of +work. She did it in her house in Eaton Square--in other people's houses, +in her various estates in the country, where she prepared her villagers +and tenants for a future in which every farm house and cottage must be +as ready for practical service as her own castle or manor house. Darte +Norham was no longer a luxurious place of residence but a potential +hospital for wounded soldiers; so was Barons Court and the beautiful old +Dower House at Malworth. + +Sometimes Robin was with her, but oftener she remained at Eaton Square +and wrote letters and saw busy people and carried out lists of orders. + +It was not every day or evening that she could easily find time to go +out alone and make her way to the Square Gardens and in fact it was not +often to the Gardens she went. There were so many dear places where +trees grew and made quiet retreats--all the parks and heaths and green +suburbs--and everywhere pairs walked or sat and talked, and were frankly +so wholly absorbed in the throb of their own existences that they had no +interest in, or curiosity concerning, any other human beings. + +"Ought I to ask you to come and meet me--as if you were a little +housemaid meeting her life-guardsman?" Donal had said feverishly the +second time they met. + +A sweet flush ran up to the roots of her hair and even showed itself on +the bit of round throat where her dress was open. + +"Yes, you ought," she answered. "There are no little housemaids and +life-guardsmen now. It seems as if there were only--people." + +The very sound of her voice thrilled him--everything about her thrilled +him--the very stuff her plain frock was made of, the small hat she wore, +her way of moving or quiet sitting down near him, but most of all the +lift of her eyes to his--because there was no change in it and the eyes +expressed what they had expressed when they had first looked at him. It +was a thing which moved him to-day exactly as it had moved him when he +was too young to explain its meaning and appeal. It was the lovely faith +and yearning acceptance of him as a being whose perfection could not be +questioned. There was in it no conscious beguiling flattery or +appraisement--it was pure acceptance and sweet waiting for what he had +to give. He sometimes found himself trembling with his sense of its +simple unearthliness. + +Few indeed were the people who at this time were wholly normal. The +whole world seemed a great musical instrument, overstrung and giving out +previously unknown harmonies and inharmonies. Amid the thunders of great +crashing discords the individual note was almost unheard--but the +individual note continued its vibrations. + +The tone which expressed Donal Muir--in common with many others of his +age and sex--was a novel and abnormal one. His being no longer sang the +healthy human song of mere joy in life and living. A knowledge of +cruelty and brutal force, of helplessness and despair, grew in him day +by day. Causes for gay good cheer and laughter were swept away, leaving +in their places black facts and needs to gaze at with hard eyes. + +"Do you see how everything has _stopped_--how nothing can go on?" he +said to Robin on their second meeting in the Gardens. "The things we +used to fill our time and amuse ourselves with--dancing and tennis and +polo and theatres and parties--how jolly and all right they were in +their day, but how futile they seem just now. How could one even stand +talk of them! There is only one thing." + +The blue of his eyes grew dark. + +"It is as if a gigantic wall were piling itself up between us and Life," +he went on. "That is how I see it--a wall piling itself higher every +hour. It's built of dead things and maimed and tortured ones. It's +building itself of things you can't speak of. It stands between all the +world and living--mere living. We can't go on till we've stormed it and +beaten it down--or added our bodies to it. If it isn't beaten down it +will rise to heaven itself and shut it out--and that will be the end of +the world." He shook his head in sudden defiant bitterness. "If it can't +be beaten down, better the world _should_ come to an end." + +Robin put out her hand and caught his sleeve. + +"It will be beaten down," she cried. "You--_you_--and others like you--" + +"It will be," he said. "And it's because, when men read the day's news, +almost every single one of them feels something leaping up in him that +seems strong enough to batter it to earth single-handed." + +But he gently put out his own hand and took in it the slim gloved one +and looked down at it, as if it were something quite apart and +wonderful--rather as if hands were rare and he had not often seen one +before. + +There was much sound of heavy traffic on the streets. The lumbering of +army motor trucks and vans, the hurry of ever-passing feet and vehicles, +changed the familiar old-time London roar, which had been as that of low +and distant thunder, into the louder rumbling of a storm which had drawn +nearer and was spending its fury within the city's streets themselves. +Just at this moment there arose the sound of some gigantic loaded thing, +passing with unearthly noises, and high above it pierced the shrilling +of fifes. + +Robin glanced about the empty garden. + +"The noise seems to shut us in. How deserted the Gardens look. I feel as +if we were in another world. We are shut in--and shut out," she +whispered. + +He whispered also. He still looked down at the slim gloved hand as if it +had some important connection with the moment. + +"We have so few minutes together," he said. "And I have thought of so +many things I must say to you. I cannot stop thinking about you. I think +of you even when I am obliged to think of something else at the same +time. I am in a sort of tumult every moment I am away from you." He +stopped suddenly and looked up. "I am speaking as if I had been with you +a score of times. I haven't, you know. I have only seen you once since +the dance. But it is as if we had met every day--and it's true--I am in +a sort of tumult. I think thousands of new things and I feel as if I +_must_ tell you of them all." + +"I--think too," said Robin. Oh! the dark dew of her imploring eyes! Oh! +the beat of the little pulse he could actually see in her soft bare +throat. He did not even ask himself what the eyes implored for. They had +always looked like that--as if they were asking to be allowed to be +happy and to love all kind things on earth. + +"One of the new things I cannot help thinking about--it's a queer thing +and I must tell you about it. It's not like me and yet it's the +strongest feeling I ever had. Since the War has changed everything and +everybody, all one's feelings have grown stronger. I never was furious +before--and I've been furious. I've felt savage. I've raged. And the +thing I'm thinking of is like a kind of obsession. It's this--" he +caught her hands again and held her face to face with him. "I--I want to +have you to myself," he exclaimed. + +She did not try to move. She only gazed at him. + +"Nobody else _has_ me--at all," she answered. "No one wants me." + +The colour ran up under his fine skin. + +"What I mean is a little different. Perhaps you mayn't understand it. I +want this--our being together in this way--our understanding and +talking--to be something that belongs to _us_ and to no one else. It's +too sudden and wonderful for any one but ourselves to understand. Nobody +else _could_ understand it. Perhaps we don't ourselves--quite! But I +know what it does to _me_. I can't bear the thought of other people +spoiling the beauty of it by talking it over and looking on." He +actually got up and began to walk about. "Oh, I _ought_ to have +something of my own--before it's all over--I ought! I want this miracle +of a thing--for my own." + +He stopped and stood before her. + +"My mother is the most beloved creature in the world. I have always told +her everything. She has always cared. I don't know why I have not told +her about--this--but I haven't and I don't want to--now. That is part of +the strange thing. I do not want to tell her--even the belovedest woman +that ever lived. I want it for myself. Will you let me have it--will you +help me to keep it?" + +"Like a secret?" said Robin in her soft note. + +"No, not a secret. A sort of sacred, heavenly unbelievable thing we own +together." + +"I understand," was Robin's answer. "It does not seem strange to me. I +have thought something like that too--almost exactly like." + +It did not once occur to them to express, even to themselves, in any +common mental form the fact that they were "in love" with each other. +The tide which swept them with it had risen ages before and bore them on +its swelling waves as though they were leaves. + +"No one but ourselves will know that we meet," she went on further. "I +may come and go as I like in these hurried busy hours. Even Lady Kathryn +is as free as if she were a shop girl. It is as you said before--there +is no time to be curious and ask questions. And even Dowie has been +obliged to go to her cousin's widow whose husband has just been killed." + +Shaken, thrilled, exalted, Donal sat down again and talked to her. +Together they made their plans for meeting, as they had done when +Andrews had slackened her guard. There was no guard to keep watch on +them now. And the tide rose hour by hour. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Aunts and cousins and more or less able relatives were largely drawn on +in these days of stress and need, and Dowie was an efficient person. The +cousin whose husband had been killed in Belgium, leaving a young widow +and two children scarcely younger and more helpless than herself, had no +relation nearer than Dowie, and had sent forth to the good woman a +frantic wail for help in her desolation. The two children were, of +course, on the point of being added to by an almost immediately +impending third, and the mother, being penniless and prostrated, had +remembered the comfortable creature with her solid bank account of +savings and her good sense and good manners and knowledge of a world +larger than the one into which she had been born. + +"You're settled here, my lamb," Dowie had said to Robin. "It's more like +your own home than the other place was. You're well and safe and busy. I +must go to poor Henrietta in Manchester. That's my bit of work, it +seems, and thank God I'm able to do it. She was a fine girl in a fine +shop, poor Henrietta, and she's not got any backbone and her children +are delicate--and another coming. Well, well! I do thank God that you +don't need your old Dowie as you did at first." + +Thus she went away and in her own pleasant rooms in the big house, now +so full of new activities, Robin was as unwatched as if she had been a +young gull flying in and out of its nest in a tall cliff rising out of +the beating sea. + +Her early fever of anxiety never to lose sight of the fact that she was +a paid servitor had been gradually assuaged by the delicate adroitness +of the Duchess and by the aid of soothing time. While no duty or service +was forgotten or neglected, she realised that life was passed in an +agreeable freedom which was a happy thing. Certain hours and days were +absolutely her own to do what she chose with. She had never asked for +such privileges, but the Duchess with an almost imperceptible adjustment +had arranged that they should be hers. Sometimes she had taken Dowie +away on little holidays to the sea side, often she spent hours in +picture galleries or great libraries or museums. In attendance on the +Duchess she had learned to know all the wonders and picturesqueness of +her London and its environments, and often with Dowie as her companion +she wandered about curious and delightful places and, pleased as a +child, looked in at her kind at work or play. + +While nations shuddered and gasped, cannon belched forth, thunder and +flaming, battleships crashed together and sudden death was almost as +unintermitting as the ticking of the clock, among the thousands of +pairing souls and bodies drawn together in a new world where for the +time being all sound was stilled but the throb of pulsing hearts, there +moved with the spellbound throng one boy and girl whose dream of being +was a thing of entrancement. + +Every few days they met in some wonderfully chosen and always quiet +spot. Donal knew and loved the half unknown remote corners of the older +London too. There were dim gardens behind old law courts, bits of mellow +old enclosures and squares seemingly forgotten by the world, there were +the immensities of the great parks where embowered paths and corners +were at certain hours as unexplored as the wilderness. When the Duchess +was away or a day of holiday came, there were, more than once, a few +hours on the river where, with boat drawn up under enshrouding trees, +green light and lapping water, sunshine and silence, rare swans sailing +serenely near as if to guard them made the background to the thrill of +heavenly young wonder and joy. + +It was always the same. Each pair of eyes found in the beauty of the +other the same wonder and, through that which the being of each +expressed, each was shaken by the same inward thrill. Sometimes they +simply sat and gazed at each other like happy amazed children scarcely +able to translate their own delight. Their very aloofness from the +world--its unawareness of their story's existence made for the +perfection of all they felt. + +"It could not be like this if any one but ourselves even _knew_," Donal +said. "It is as if we had been changed into spirits and human beings +could not see us." + +There was seldom much leisure in their meetings. Sometimes they had only +a few minutes in which to exchange a word or so, to cling to each +other's hands. But even in these brief meetings the words that were said +were food for new life and dreams when they were apart. And the tide +rose. + +But it did not overflow until one early morning when they met in a +gorse-filled hollow at Hampstead, each looking at the other pale and +stricken. In Robin's wide eyes was helpless horror and Donal knew too +well what she was going to say. + +"Lord Halwyn is killed!" she gasped out. "And four of his friends! We +all danced the tango together--and that new kicking step!" She began to +sob piteously. Somehow it was the sudden memory of the almost comic +kicking step which overwhelmed her with the most gruesome sense of +awfulness--as if the world had come to an end. + +"It was new--and they laughed so! They are killed!" she cried beating +her little hands. He had just heard the same news. Five of them! And he +had heard details she had been spared. + +He was as pale as she. He stood before her quivering, hot and cold. +Until this hour they had been living only through the early growing +wonder of their dream; they had only talked together and exquisitely +yearned and thrilled at the marvel of every simple word or hand-touch or +glance, and every meeting had been a new delight. But now suddenly the +being of each shook and called to the other in wild need of the nearer +nearness which is comfort and help. It was early--early morning--the +heath spread about them wide and empty, and at that very instant a +skylark sprang from its hidden nest in the earth and circled upward to +heaven singing as to God. + +"They will take _you_!" she wailed. "_You--you!_" And did not know that +she held out her arms. + +But he knew--with a great shock of incredible rapture and tempestuous +answering. He caught her softness to his thudding young chest and kissed +her sobbing mouth, her eyes, her hair, her little pulsing throat. + +"Oh, little love," he himself almost sobbed the words. "Oh, little +lovely love!" + +She melted into his arms like a weeping child. It was as if she had +always rested there and it was mere Nature that he should hold and +comfort her. But he had never heard or dreamed of the possibility of +such anguish as was in her sobbing. + +"They will take you!" she said. "And--you danced too. And I must not +hold you back! And I must stay here and wait and wait--and _wait_--until +some day--! Donal! Donal!" + +He sat down with her amongst the gorse and held her on his knee as if +she had been six years old. She did not attempt to move but crouched +there and clung to him with both hands. She remembered only one +thing--that he must go! And there were cannons--and shells singing and +screaming! And boys like George in awful heaps. No laughing face as it +had once looked--all marred and strange and piteously lonely as they +lay. + +It took him a long time to calm her terror and woe. When at last he had +so far quieted her that her sobs came only at intervals she seemed to +awaken to sudden childish awkwardness. She sat up and shyly moved. "I +didn't mean--I didn't know--!" she quavered. "I am--I am sitting on your +knee like a baby!" But he could not let her go. + +"It is because I love you so," he answered in his compelling boy voice, +holding her gently. "Don't move--don't move! There is no time to think +and wait--or care for anything--if we love each other. We _do_ love each +other, don't we?" He put his cheek against hers and pressed it there. +"Oh, say we do," he begged. "There is no time. And listen to the skylark +singing!" + +The butterfly-wing flutter of her lashes against his cheek as she +pressed the softness of her own closer, and the quick exquisite +indrawing of her tender, half-sobbing childish breath were unspeakably +lovely answering things--though he heard her whisper. + +"Yes, Donal! Donal!" And again, "Donal! Donal!" + +And he held her closer and kissed her very gently again. And they sat +and whispered that they loved each other and had always loved each other +and would love each other forever and forever and forever. Poor enrapt +children! It has been said before, but they said it again and yet again. +And the circling skylark seemed to sing at the very gates of God's +heaven. + +So the tide rose to its high flowing. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The days of gold which linked themselves one to another with strange +dawns of pearl and exquisite awakenings, each a miracle, the gemmed +night whose blue darkness seemed studded with myriads of new stars, the +noons whose heats or rains were all warm scents of flowers and fragrant +mists, wrought themselves into a chain of earthly beauty. The hour in +which the links must break and the chain end was always a faint spectre +veiled by kindly mists which seemed to rise hour by hour to soften and +hide it. + +But often in those days did it occur that the hurrying and changing +visitors to the house in Eaton Square, glancing at Robin as she sat +writing letters, or as she passed them in some hall or room, found +themselves momentarily arrested in an almost startled fashion by the +mere radiance of her. + +"She is lovelier every time one turns one's head towards her," the +Starling said--the Starling having become a vigorous worker and the +Duchess giving welcome to any man, woman or child who could be counted +on for honest help. "It almost frightens me to see her eyes when she +looks up suddenly. It is like finding one's self too close to a star. A +star in the sky is all very well--but a star only three feet away from +one is a kind of shock. What has happened to the child?" + +She said it to Gerald Vesey who between hours of military training was +helping Harrowby to arrange a matinee for the benefit of the Red Cross. +Harrowby had been rejected by the military authorities on account of +defective sight and weak chest but had with a promptness unexpected by +his friends merged himself into unprominent, useful hard work which +frequently consisted of doing disagreeable small jobs men of his type +generally shied away from. + +"Something has happened to her," answered Vesey. "She has the flight of +a skylark let out of a cage. Her moving is flight--not ordinary walking. +I hope her work has kept her away from--well, from young gods and +things." + +"The streets are full of them," said Harrowby, "marching to defy death +and springing to meet glory--marching not walking. Young Mars and Ajax +and young Paris with Helen in his eyes. She might be some youngster's +Helen! Why do you hope her work has kept her away?" + +Vesey shook his Greek head with a tragic bitterness. + +"Oh! I don't know," he groaned. "There's too much disaster piled high +and staring in every one of their flushing rash young faces. On they go +with their heads in the air and their hearts thumping, and hoping and +refusing to believe in the devil and hell let loose--and the whole thing +stares and gibbers at them." + +But each day her eyes looked larger and more rapturously full of +heavenly glowing, and her light movements were more like bird flight, +and her swiftness and sweet readiness to serve delighted and touched +people more, and they spoke oftener to and of her, and felt actually a +thought uplifted from the darkness because she was like pure light's +self. + +Lord Coombe met her in the street one evening at twilight and he stopped +to speak to her. + +"I have just come from Darte Norham," he said to her. "The Duchess +asked me to see you personally and make sure that you do not miss Dowie +too much--that you are not lonely." + +"I am very busy and am very well taken care of," was her answer. "The +servants are very attentive and kind. I am not lonely at all, thank you. +The Duchess is very good to me." + +Donal evidently knew nothing of her reasons for disliking Lord Coombe. +She could not have told him of them. He did not dislike his relative +himself and in fact rather liked him in spite of the frigidity he +sometimes felt. He, at any rate, admired his cold brilliance of mind. +Robin could not therefore let herself detest the man and regard him as +an enemy. But she did not like the still searching of the grey eyes +which rested on her so steadily. + +"The Duchess wished me to make sure that you did not work too +enthusiastically. She desires you to take plenty of exercise and if you +are tired to go into the country for a day or two of fresh air and rest. +She recommends old Mrs. Bennett's cottage at Mersham Wood. The place is +quite rustic though it is near enough to London to be convenient. You +might come and go." + +"She is too kind--too kind," said Robin. "Oh! _how_ kind to think of me +like that. I will write and thank her." + +The sweet gratitude in her eyes and voice were touching. She could not +speak steadily. + +"I may tell her then that you are well taken care of and that you are +happy," the grey eyes were a shade less cold but still searching and +steady. "You look--happy." + +"I never was so happy before. Please--please tell her that when you +thank her for me," was Robin's quite yearning little appeal. She held +out her hand to him for the first time in her life. "Thank you, Lord +Coombe, for so kindly delivering her beautiful message." + +His perfect manner did not record any recognition on his part of the +fact that she had done an unexpected thing. But as he went on his way he +was thinking of it. + +"She is very happy for some reason," he thought. "Perhaps the rush and +excitement of her new work exalts her. She has the ecstasied air of a +lovely child on her birthday--with all her world filled with petting and +birthday gifts." + +The Duchess evidently extended her care to the extent of sending special +messages to Mrs. James, the housekeeper, who began to exercise a +motherly surveillance over Robin's health and diet and warmly to +advocate long walks and country visits to the cottage at Mersham Wood. + +"Her grace will be really pleased if you take a day or two while she's +away. She's always been just that interested in those about her, Miss," +Mrs. James argued. "She wouldn't like to come back and find you looking +tired or pale. Not that there's much danger of that," quite beamingly. +"For all your hard work, I must say you look--well, you look as I've +never seen you. And you always had a colour like a new-picked rose." + +The colour like a new-picked rose ran up to the rings of hair on the +girl's forehead as if she were made a little shy. + +"It is because her grace has been so good--and because every one is so +kind to me," she said. "Kindness makes me happy." + +She was so happy that she was never tired and was regarded as a young +wonder in the matter of work and readiness and exactitude. Her accounts, +her correspondence, her information were always in order. When she took +the prescribed walks and in some aloof path or corner met the strong, +slim khaki-clad figure, they walked or stood or sat closely side by side +and talked of many things--though most of all they dwelt on one. She +could ask Donal questions and he could throw light on such things as +young soldiers knew better than most people. She came into close +touch--a shuddering touch sometimes it was--with needs and facts +concerning marchings and trenches and attacks and was therefore able to +visualise and to speak definitely of necessities not always understood. + +"How did you find that out?" little black-clad Lady Kathryn asked her +one day. "I wish I had known it before George went away." + +"A soldier told me," was her answer. "Soldiers know things we don't." + +"The world is made of soldiers now," said Kathryn. "And one is always +talking to them. I shall begin to ask them questions about small things +like that." + +It was the same morning that as they stood alone together for a few +minutes Kathryn suddenly put her hand upon Robin's shoulder. + +"You never--_never_ feel the least angry--when you remember about +George--the night of the dance," she pleaded shakily. "Do you, Robin? +You couldn't _now_! Could you?" + +Tears rushed into Robin's eyes. + +"Never--never!" she said. "I always remember him--oh, quite differently! +He----" she hesitated a second and began again. "He did something--so +wonderfully kind--before he went away--something for me. That is what I +remember. And his nice voice--and his good eyes." + +"Oh! he _was_ good! He was!" exclaimed Kathryn in a sort of despairing +impatience. "So many of them are! It's awful!" And she sat down in the +nearest chair and cried hopelessly into her crushed handkerchief while +Robin tried to soothe--not to comfort her. There was no comfort to +offer. And behind the rose tinted mists her own spectre merely pretended +to veil itself. + + * * * * * + +When she lay in bed at night in her quiet room she often lay awake long +and long for pure bliss. The world in which people were near--_near_--to +one another and loved each other, the world Donal had always belonged to +even when he was a little boy, she now knew and lived in. There was no +loneliness in it. If there was pain or trouble some one who loved you +was part of it and you, and so you could bear it. All the radiant +mornings and heavenly nights, all the summer scents of flowers or hay or +hedges in bloom, or new rain on the earth, were things felt just as that +other one felt them and drew in their delights--exactly in the same way. +Once in the night stillness of a sweet dark country lane she had stood +in the circle of Donal's arm, her joyous, warm young breast against his +and they had heard together the singing of a nightingale in a thicket. + +"Let us stand still," he had whispered close to her ear. "Let us not +speak a word--not a word. Oh! little lovely love! Let us only +_listen_--and be happy!" + +Almost every day there were marvels like this. And when they were apart +she could not forget them but walked like a spirit strayed on to earth +and unknowing of its radiance. This was why people glanced at her +curiously and were sometimes vaguely troubled. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The other woman who loved and was loved by him moved about her world in +these days with a face less radiant than the one people turned to look +at in the street or in its passing through the house in Eaton Square. +Helen Muir's eyes were grave and pondered. She had always known of the +sometime coming of the hour in which would rise the shadow--to him a +cloud of rapture--which must obscure the old clearness of vision which +had existed between them. She had been too well balanced of brain to +allow herself to make a tragedy of it or softly to sentimentalise of +loss. It was mere living nature that it should be so. He would be as +always, a beloved wonder of dearness and beauty when his hour came and +she would look on and watch and be so cleverly silent and delicately +detached from his shy, aloof young moods, his funny, dear involuntary +secrets and reserves. But at any moment--day or night--at any elate +emotional moment _ready_! + +She had the rare accomplishment of a perfect knowledge of _how to wait_, +and to wait--if necessary--long. When the first golden down had shown +itself on his cheek and lip she had not noticed it too much and when his +golden soprano voice began to change to a deeper note and annoyed him +with its uncertainties she had spared him awkwardness by making him feel +the transition a casual natural thing, instead of a personal and +characteristic weakness. She had loved every stage of innocence and +ignorance and adorable silliness he had passed through and he had grown +closer to her through the medium of each, because nothing in life was +so clear as her lovely wiseness and fine perceptive entirety of sympathy +and poise. + +"I never have to explain really," he said more than once. "You would +understand even if I were an idiot or a criminal. And you'd understand +if I were an archangel." + +With a deep awareness she knew that, when she first realised that the +shadow was rising, it would be different. She would have to watch it +with an aloofness more delicate and yet more warmly sensitive than any +other. In the days when she first thought of him as like one who is +listening to a far-off sound, it seemed possible that in the clamour of +louder echoes this one might lose itself and at last die away even from +memory. It was youth's way to listen and youth's way to find it easy to +forget. He heard many reverberations in these days and had much reason +for thought and action. He thought a great deal, he worked +energetically, he came and went, he read and studied, he obeyed orders +and always stood ready for new ones. Her pride in his vigorous +initiative and practical determination was a glowing flame in her heart. +He meant to be no toy soldier. + +As she became as practical a worker as he was, they did much together +and made plans without ceasing. When he was away she was always doing +things in which he was interested and when he returned he always brought +to her suggestions for new service or the development of the old. But as +the days passed and became weeks she knew that the far-off sound was +still being listened to. She could not have told how--but she knew. And +she saw the beloved dearness and beauty growing in him. He came into the +house each day in his khaki as if khaki were a shining thing. When he +laughed, or sat and smiled, or dreamed--forgetting she was there--her +very heart quaked with delight in him. Another woman than Robin counted +over his charms and made a tender list of them, wondering at each one. +As a young male pheasant in mating time dons finer gloss and brilliancy +of plumage, perhaps he too bloomed and all unconscious developed added +colour and inches and gallant swing of tread. As people turned half +astart to look at Robin bending over her desk or walking about among +them in her modest dress, so also did they turn to look after him as he +went in springing march along the streets. + +"Some day he will begin to tell me," Helen used to say to herself at +night. "He may only _begin_--but perhaps it will be to-morrow." + +It was not, however, to-morrow--or to-morrow. And in the midst of his +work he still listened. As he sat and dreamed he listened and sometimes +he was very deep in thought--sitting with his arms folded and his eyes +troubled and questioning of the space into which he looked. The time was +really not very long, but it began to seem so to her. + +"But some day--soon--he will tell me," she thought. + + * * * * * + +One afternoon Donal walked into a room where a number of well-dressed +women were talking, drinking tea and knitting or crocheting. It had +begun already to be the fashion for almost every woman to carry on her +arm a work bag and produce from its depths at any moment without warning +something she was making. In the early days the bag was usually highly +decorated and the article being made was a luxury. Only a few serious +and pessimistic workers had begun to produce plain usefulness and in +this particular Mayfair drawing-room "the War" as yet seemed to present +itself rather as a dramatic and picturesque social asset. A number of +good-looking young officers moved about or sat in corners being petted +and flirted with, while many of the women had the slightly elated +excitement of air produced in certain of their sex by the marked +preponderance of the presence of the masculine element. It was a thing +which made for high spirits and laughs and amiable semi-caressing chaff. +The women who in times of peace had been in the habit of referring to +their "boys" were in these days in great form. + +Donal had been taken to the place by an amusement-loving acquaintance +who professed that a special invitation made it impossible to pass by +without dropping in. The house was Mrs. Erwyn's and had already +attracted attention through the recent _debuts_ of Eileen and Winifred +who had grown up very pretty and still retained their large, curious +eyes and their tendency to giggle musically. + +In very short and slimly alluring frocks they were assisting their +mother in preparing young warriors for the seat of war by giving them +chocolate in egg-shell cups and little cakes. Winifred carried a coral +satin work-bag embroidered with carnations and was crocheting a silk +necktie peculiarly suited to fierce onslaught on the enemy. + +"Oh!" she gasped, clutching in secret at Eileen's sleeve when Donal +entered the room. "There he is! Jack said he would make him come! Just +_look_ at him!" + +"Gracious!" ejaculated Eileen. "I daren't look! It's not safe!" + +They looked, however, to their irresistible utmost when he came to make +his nice, well-behaved bow to his hostess. + +"I love his bow," Eileen whispered. "It is such a beautiful _tall_ bow. +And he looks as good as he is beautiful." + +"Oh! not _good_ exactly!" protested Winifred. "Just _sweet_--as if he +thinks you are quite as nice as himself." + +He was taken from one group to another and made much of and flattered +quite openly. He was given claret cup and feathery sandwiches and asked +questions and given information. He was chattered to and whispered about +and spent half an hour in a polite vortex of presentation. He was not as +highly entertained as his companion was because he was thinking of +something else--of a place which seemed incredibly far away from London +drawing-rooms--even if he could have convinced himself that it existed +on the same earth. The trouble was that he was always thinking of this +place--and of others. He could not forget them even in the midst of any +clamour of life. Sometimes he was afraid he forgot where he was and +might look as if he were not listening to people. There were moments +when he caught his breath because of a sudden high throb of his heart. +How could he shut out of his mind that which seemed to _be_ his +mind--his body--the soul of him! + +It was at a moment when he was thinking of this with a sudden sense of +disturbance that a silver toned voice evidently speaking to him +attracted his attention. + +The voice was of silver and the light laugh was silvery. + +"You look as if you were not thinking of any of us," the owner said. + +He turned about to find himself looking at one of the prettiest of the +filmily dressed creatures in the room. Her frock was one of the briefest +and her tiny heels the highest and most slender. The incredible foot and +ankle wore a flesh silk stocking so fine that it looked as though they +were bare--which was the achievement most to be aspired to. Every atom +of her was lovely and her small deep-curved mouth and pure large eyes +were like an angel's. + +"I believe you remember me!" she said after a second or so in which they +held each other's gaze and Donal knew he began to flush slowly. + +"Yes," he answered. "I do--now I have looked again. You were--The Lady +Downstairs." + +She flung out the silver laugh again. + +"After all these years! After one has grown old and withered and +wrinkled--and has a grown-up daughter." + +He answered with a dazzling young-man-of-the-world bow and air. He had +not been to Eton and Oxford and touched the outskirts of two or three +London seasons, as a boy beauty and a modest Apollo Belvidere in his +teens, without learning a number of pleasant little ways. + +"You are exactly as you were the morning you came into the Gardens +dressed in crocuses and daffodils. I thought they were daffodils and +crocuses. I said so to my mother afterwards." + +He did not like her but he knew how her world talked to her. And he +wanted to hear her speak--The Lady Downstairs--who had not "liked" the +soft-eyed, longing, warm little lonely thing. + +"All people say of you is entirely true," she said. "I did not believe +it at first but I do now." She patted the seat of the small sofa she had +dropped on. "Come and sit here and talk to me a few minutes. Girls will +come and snatch you away presently but you can spare about three +minutes." + +He did as he was told and wondered as he came nearer to the shell +fineness of her cheek and her seraphic smile. + +"I want you to tell me something about my only child," she said. + +He hoped very much that he did not flush in his sometimes-troublesome +blond fashion then. He hoped so. + +"I shall be most happy to tell you anything I have the honour of +knowing," he answered. "Only ask." + +"You would be capable of putting on a touch of Lord Coombe's little +stiff air--if you were not so young and polite," she said. "It was Lord +Coombe who told me about the old Duchess' dance--and that you tangoed or +swooped--or kicked with my Robin. He said both of you did it +beautifully." + +"Miss Gareth-Lawless did--at least." + +He was looking down and so did not chance to see the look of a little +cat which showed itself in her quick side glance. + +"She is not my Robin now. She belongs to the Dowager Duchess of +Darte--for a consideration. She is one of the new little females who are +obstinately determined to earn an honest living. I haven't seen her for +months--perhaps years. Is she pretty?" The last three words came out +like the little cat's pounce on a mouse. Donal even felt momentarily +startled. + +But he remained capable of raising clear eyes to hers and saying, "She +was prettier than any one else at the Duchess' house that night. Far +prettier." + +"Have you never seen her since?" + +This was a pounce again and he was quite aware of it. + +"Yes." + +Feather gurgled. + +"That was really worthy of Lord Coombe," she said. "I wasn't being +pushing, really, Mr. Muir. If any one asks you your intentions it will +be the Dowager--not little Miss Gareth-Lawless' mother. I never +pretended to chaperon Robin. She might run about all over London without +my asking any questions. I am afraid I am not much of a mother. I am not +in the least like yours." + +"Like mine?" He wondered why his mother should be so suddenly dragged +in. + +She laughed with a bright air of being much entertained. + +"Do you remember how Mrs. Muir whisked you away from London the day +after she found out that you were playing with my vagabond of a +Robin--unknowing of your danger? There was a mother for you! It nearly +killed my little pariah." + +She rose and held out her hand. + +"I have not really had my three minutes, but 'I must not detain you any +longer,' as Royal Highnesses say. I must go." + +"Why?" he ejaculated with involuntary impatience. + +"Because Eileen Erwyn is standing with her back markedly turned towards +us, pretending to talk. I know the expression of her little ears and she +has just laid them back close to her head, which means business. Why do +you all at once look _quite_ like Lord Coombe?" Perhaps he did look a +trifle like his relative. He had risen to his feet. + +"I was not aware that I was whisked away from London," he said. + +"I was," with pretty impudence. "You were bundled back to Scotland +almost before daylight. Lord Coombe knew about it. We laughed immensely +together. It was a great joke because Robin fainted and fell into the +mud, or something of the sort, when you didn't turn up the next morning. +She almost pined away and died of grief, tiresome little thing! I told +you Eileen was preparing to assault. Here she is! Hordes of girls will +now advance upon you. So glad to have had you even for a few treasured +seconds. _Good_ afternoon." + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was not a long time before he had left the house, but it seemed long +and as if he had thought a great many rather incoherent things before he +had reached the street and presently parted from his gay acquaintance +and was on his way to his mother's house where she was spending a week, +having come down from Scotland as she did often. + +He walked all the way home because he wanted movement. He also wanted +time to think things over because the intensity of his own mood troubled +him. It was new for him to think much about himself, but lately he had +found himself sometimes wondering at, as well as shaken by, emotional +mental phases through which he passed. A certain moving fancy always +held its own in his thoughts--as a sort of background to them. It was in +his feeling that he was in those weeks a Donal Muir who was unknown and +unseen by the passing world. No one but himself--and Robin--could know +the meaning, the feeling, the nature of this Donal. It was as if he +lived in a new Dimension of whose existence other people did not know. +He could not have explained because it would not have been understood. +He could vaguely imagine that effort at explanation would end--even +begin--by being so clumsy that it would be met by puzzled or unbelieving +smiles. + +To walk about--to sleep--to awaken surrounded by rarefied light and air +in which no object or act or even word or thought wore its past familiar +meaning, or to go about the common streets, feeling as though somehow +one were apart and unseen, was a singular thing. Having had a youth +filled with quite virile pleasures and delightful emotions--and to be +lifted above them into other air and among other visions--was, he told +himself, like walking in a dream. To be filled continually with one +thought, to rebel against any obstacle in the path to one desire, and +from morning until night to be impelled by one eagerness for some moment +or hour for which there was reason enough for its having place in the +movings of the universe, if it brought him face to face with what he +must stand near to--see--hear--perhaps touch. + +It was because of the world's madness, because of the human fear and +weeping everywhere, because of the new abysses which seemed to yawn +every day on every side, that both soul and senses were so abnormally +overstrung. He was overwhelmed by exquisite compassions in his thoughts +of Robin, he was afraid for her youngness, her sweetness, the innocent +defencelessness which was like a child's. He was afraid of his own young +rashness and the entrancement of the dream. The great lunging chariot of +War might plunge over them both. + +But never for one moment could he force himself to regret or repent. +Boys in their twenties already lay in their thousands on the fields over +there. And she would far, far rather remember the kind hours and know +that they were hidden in his heart for him to remember as he died--if he +died! She had lain upon his breast holding him close and fast and she +had sobbed hard--hard--but she had said it again and again and over and +over when he had asked her. + +It was this aspect of her and things akin to it which had risen in his +incoherent thoughts when he was manoeuvering to get away from the +drawing-room full of chattering people. He knew himself overwhelmed +again by the exquisite compassion because the thing Mrs. Gareth-Lawless +had told him had brought back all the silent anguish of impotent +childish rebellion the morning when he had been awakened before the day, +and during the day when he had thought his small breast would burst as +the train rushed on with him--away--away! + +And Robin had told him the rest--sitting one afternoon in the same chair +with him--a roomy, dingy red arm-chair in an old riverside inn where +they had managed to meet and had spent a long rainy day together. She +had told him--in a queer little strained voice--about the waiting--and +waiting--and waiting. And about the certainty of her belief in his +coming. And the tiny foot which grew numb. And the slow lump climbing in +her throat. And the rush under the shrubs--and the beating hands--and +cries--and of the rose dress and socks and crushed hat covered with mud. +She had not been piteous or dramatic. She had been so simple that she +had broken his heart in two and he had actually hidden his face in her +hair. + +"Oh! Donal, dear. You're crying!" she had said and she had broken down +too and for a few seconds they had cried together rocking in each +other's arms, while the rain streamed down the window panes and +beautifully shut them in, since there are few places more enclosing than +the little, dingy private parlour of a remote English inn on a +ceaselessly rainy day. + +It had all come back before he reached the house in Kensington whose +windows looked into the thick leaves of the plane trees. And at the same +time he knew that the burning anger which kept rising in him was perhaps +undue and not quite fair. But he was thinking it had _not_ been mere +cruel chance--it could have been helped--it need never have been! It +had been the narrow cold hard planning of grown-up people who knew that +they were powerful enough to enforce any hideous cruelty on creatures +who had no defence. He actually found his heated mind making a statement +of the case as wild as this and its very mercilessness of phrase checked +him. The grown-up person had been his mother--his long-beloved--and he +was absolutely calling her names. He pulled himself up vigorously and +walked very fast. But the heat did not quite die down and other thoughts +surged up in spite of his desire to keep his head and be reasonably +calm. There _had_ been a certain narrowness in the tragic separation of +two happy children if the only reason for it had been that the mother of +one was a pretty, frivolous, much gossiped about woman belonging to a +rather too rapid set. And if it had been a reason then, how would it +present itself now? What would happen to an untouched dream if argument +and disapproval crashed into it? If his first intensely passionate +impulse had been his desire to save it even from the mere touch of +ordinary talk and smiling glances because he had felt that they would +spoil the perfect joy of it, what would not open displeasure and +opposition make of the down on the butterfly's wing--the bloom on the +peach? It was not so he phrased in his thoughts the things which +tormented him, but the figures would have expressed his feeling. What if +his mother were angry--though he had never seen her angry in his life +and could only approach the idea because he had just found out that she +had once been cruel--yes, it had been cruel! What if Coombe actually +chose to interfere. Coombe with his unmoving face, his perfection of +exact phrase and his cold almost inhuman eye! After all the matter +concerned him closely. + +"While Houses threaten to crumble and Heads may fall into the basket +there are things we must remember until we disappear," he had said not +long ago with this same grey eye fixed on him. "I have no son. If +Marquisates continue to exist you will be the Head of the House of +Coombe." + +What would _he_ make of a dream if he handled it? What would there be +left? Donal's heart burned in his side when he recalled Feather's +impudent little laugh as she had talked of her "vagabond Robin," her +"small pariah." He was a boy entranced and exalted by his first passion +and because he was a sort of young superman it was not a common one, +though it shared all the unreason and impetuous simplicities of the most +rudimentary of its kind. He could not think very calmly or logically; +both the heaven and the earth in him swept him along as with the rush of +the spheres. It was Robin who was foremost in all his thoughts. It was +because she was so apart from all the world that it had seemed beautiful +to keep her so in his heart. She had always been so aloof a little +creature--so unclaimed and naturally left alone. Perhaps that was why +she had retained through the years the untouched look which he had +recognised even at the dance, in the eyes which only waited exquisitely +for kindness and asked for love. No one had ever owned her, no one +really knew her--people only saw her loveliness--no one knew her but +himself--the little beautiful thing--his own--his _own_ little thing! +Nothing on earth should touch her! + +Because his thinking ended--as it naturally always did--in such +thoughts as these last, he was obliged to turn back when he saw the +plane trees and walk a few hundred feet in the opposite direction to +give himself time. He even turned a corner and walked down another +street. It was just as he turned that poignant chance brought him face +to face with a girl in deep new mourning with the border of white crepe +in the brim of her close hat. Her eyes were red and half-closed with +recent crying and she had a piteous face. He knew what it all meant and +involuntarily raised his hand in salute. He scarcely knew he did it and +for a second she seemed not to understand. But the next second she burst +out crying and hurriedly took out her handkerchief and hid her face as +she passed. One of the boys lying on the blood-wet mire in Flanders, was +Donal's bitter thought, but he had had his kind hours to recall at the +last moment--and even now she had them too. + +Helen Muir from her seat at the window looking into the thick leafage of +the trees saw him turn at the entrance and heard him mount the steps. +The days between them and approaching separation were growing shorter +and shorter. She thought this every morning when she awakened and +realised anew that the worst of it all was that neither knew how short +they were and that the thing which was to happen would be sudden--as +death is always sudden however long one waits. He had never reached even +that _beginning_ of the telling--whatsoever he had to tell. Perhaps it +was coming now. She had tried to prepare herself by endeavouring to +imagine how he would look when he began--a little shy--even a little +lovably awkward? But his engaging smile--his quite darling smile--would +show itself in spite of him as it always did. + +But when he came into the room his look was a new one to her. It was +not happy--it was not a free look. There was something like troubled +mental reservation in it--and when had there ever been mental +reservation between them? Oh, no--that must not--must not be _now_! Not +now! + +He sat down with his cap in his hand as if he had forgotten to lay it +aside or as if he were making a brief call. + +"What has happened, Donal?" she said. "Have you come to tell me that--?" + +"No, not that--though that may come any moment now. It is something +else." + +"What else?" + +"I don't know how to begin," he said. "There has never been anything +like this before. But I must know from you that a--silly woman--has not +been telling me spiteful lies. She is the kind of woman who would say +anything it amused her to say." + +"What was it she said?" + +"I was dragged into a house by Clonmel. He said he had promised to drop +in to tea. There were a lot of people. Mrs. Gareth-Lawless was there and +began to talk to me." + +"Why did you think she might be telling you spiteful lies?" + +"That is it," he broke out miserably impetuous. "Perhaps it may all seem +childish and unimportant to you. But you have always been perfect. You +were the one perfect being. I have never doubted you--" + +"Do you doubt me now?" + +"Perhaps no one but myself could realise that a sort of sore spot--yes, +a sore spot--was left in my mind for years because of a wretched thing +which happened when I was a child. _Did_ you deliberately take me back +to Scotland so suddenly that early morning? Was it a thing which could +have been helped?" + +"I thought not, Donal. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps I was right." + +"Was it because you wanted to separate me from a child I was fond of?" + +"Yes." + +"And your idea was that because her mother was a flighty woman with bad +taste and the wrong surrounding her poor little girl would contaminate +me?" + +"It was because her mother was a light woman and all her friends were +like her. And your affection for the child was not like a child's +affection." + +"No, it wasn't," he said and he leaned forward with his forehead in his +hands. + +"I wanted to put an end to it before it was too late. I saw nothing but +pain in it for you. It filled me with heart-broken fear to think of the +girl such a mother and such a life would make." + +"She was such a little thing--" said Donal, "--such a tender mite of a +thing! She's such a little thing even now." + +"Is she?" said Helen. + +Now she knew he would not tell her. And she was right. Up to that +afternoon there had always been the chance that he would. Night after +night he had been on the brink of telling her of the dream. Only as the +beauty and wonder of it grew he had each day given himself another day, +and yet another and another. But he had always thought the hour would +come and he had been sure she would not grudge him a moment he had held +from her. Now he shut everything within himself. + +"I wish you had not done it. It was a mistake," was all he said. +Suddenly he felt thrown back upon himself, heartsick and cold. For the +first time in his life he could not see her side of the question. The +impassioned egotism of first love overwhelmed him. + +"You met her on the night of the old Duchess' dance," Helen said. + +"Yes." + +"You have met her since?" + +"Yes." + +"It is useless for older people to interfere," she said. "We have loved +each other very much. We have been happy together. But I can do nothing +to help you. Oh! Donal, my own dear!" + +Her involuntary movement of putting her hand to her throat was a piteous +gesture. + +"You are going away," she pleaded. "Don't let anything come between +us--not _now_! It is not as if you were going to stay. When you come +back perhaps--" + +"I may never come back," he answered and as he said it he saw again the +widowed girl who had hurried past him crying because he had saluted her. +And he saw Robin as he had seen her the night before--Robin who belonged +to no one--whom no one missed at any time when she went in or out--who +could come and go and meet a man anywhere as if she were the only little +soul in London. And yet who had always that pretty, untouched air. + +"I only wanted to be sure. It was a mistake. We will never speak of it +again," he added. + +"If it was a mistake, forgive it. It was only because I could not hear +that your life should not be beautiful. These are not like other days. +Oh! Donal my dear, my dear!" And she broke into weeping and took him in +her arms and he held her and kissed her tenderly. But whatsoever +happened--whatsoever he did he knew that if he was to save and hold his +bliss to the end he could not tell her now. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mrs. Bennett's cottage on the edge of Mersham Wood seemed to Robin when +she first saw it to be only a part of a fairy tale. It is true that only +in certain bits of England and in pictures in books of fairy tales did +one see cottages of its kind, and in them always lived with their +grandmothers--in the fairy stories as Robin remembered--girls who would +in good time be discovered by wandering youngest sons of fairy story +kings. The wood of great oaks and beeches spread behind and at each side +of it and seemed to have no end in any land on earth. It nestled against +its primaeval looking background in a nook of its own. Under the broad +branches of the oaks and beeches tall ferns grew so thick that they +formed a forest of their own--a lower, lighter, lacy forest where +foxglove spires pierced here and there, and rabbits burrowed and sniffed +and nibbled, and pheasants hid nests and sometimes sprang up rocketting +startlingly. Birds were thick in the wood and trilled love songs, or +twittered and sang low in the hour before their bedtime, filling the +twilight with clear adorable sounds. The fairy-tale cottage was +whitewashed and its broad eaved roof was thatched. Hollyhocks stood in +haughty splendour against its walls and on either side its path. The +latticed windows were diamond-paned and their inside ledges filled with +flourishing fuchsias and trailing white campanula, and mignonette. The +same flowers grew thick in the crowded blooming garden. And there were +nests in the hawthorn hedge. And there was a small wicket gate. + +When Robin caught sight of it she wondered--for a moment--if she were +going to cry. Only because it was part of the dream and could be nothing +else--unless one wakened. + +On the tiny porch covered with honeysuckle in bloom, a little, old fairy +woman was sitting knitting a khaki sock very fast. She wore a clean +print gown and a white apron and a white cap with a frilled border. She +had a stick and a nutcracker face and a pair of large iron bowed +spectacles. She was so busy that she did not seem to hear Robin as she +walked up the path between the borders of pinks and snapdragons, but +when she was quite close to her she glanced up. + +Robin thought she looked almost frightened when she saw her. She got up +and made an apologetic curtsey. + +"Eh!" she ejaculated, "to think of me not hearing you. I do beg your +pardon, Miss, I do that. I was really waiting here to be ready for you." + +"Thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Bennett," Robin answered in a sweet hurry to +reassure her. "I hope you are very well." And she held out her hand. + +Mrs. Bennett had only been shocked at her own apparent inattention to +duty. She was not really frightened and her nutcracker face illuminated +itself with delighted smiles. + +"I don't hear very well at the best of times," she said. "And I've got a +bit of a cold. Just worry, Miss, just worry it is--along of this 'ere +war and my grandsons going marching off every few days seems like. Dick, +that's the youngest as was always my pet, he's the last and he'll be off +any minute--and these is his socks." + +Robin actually picked up a sock and patted it softly--with a childish +quiver of her chin. It seemed alive. + +"Yes, yes!" she said. "Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" + +Mrs. Bennett winked tears out of her eyes hastily. + +"Me being hard of hearing is no excuse for me talking about myself first +thing. Dick, he's an Englishman--and they're all Englishmen--and it's +Englishmen that's got to stand up and do their duty--same as they did at +Waterloo." She swallowed valiantly the lump in her throat. "Her grace +wrote to me about you, Miss, with her own kind hand. She said the +cottage was so quiet and pretty you wouldn't mind it being little--and +me being a bit deaf." + +"I shall mind nothing," said Robin. She raised her voice and tried to +speak very distinctly so as to make sure that the old fairy woman would +hear her. "It is the most beautiful cottage I ever saw in my life. It is +like a cottage in a fairy story." + +"That's what the vicar says, Miss, my dear," was Mrs. Bennett's cheerful +reply. "He says it ought to be hid some way because if the cheap +trippers found it out they'd wear the life out of me with pestering me +to give 'em six-penny teas. They'd get none from me!" quite fiercely. +"Her grace give it to me her own self and it's on Mersham land and not a +lawyer on earth could put me out." + +She became quite active and bustling--picking a spray of honeysuckle and +a few sprigs of mignonette from near the doorway and handing them to +Robin. + +"Your room's full of 'em," she said, "them and musk and roses. You'll +sleep and wake in the midst of flowers and birds singing and bees +humming. And I can give you rich milk and home-baked bread, God bless +you! You _are_ welcome. Come in, my pretty dear--Miss." + +The girl came down from London to the cottage on the wood's edge several +times during the weeks that followed. It was easy to reach and too +beautiful and lone and strange to stay away from. The War ceased where +the wood began. Mrs. Bennett delighted in her and, regarding the Duchess +as a sort of adored deity, would have served her lodger on bended knee +if custom had permitted. Robin could always make her hear, and she sat +and listened so tenderly to her stories of her grandsons that there grew +up between them an absolute affection. + +"And yet we don't see each other often," the old fairy woman had said. +"You flit in like, and flit away again as if you was a butterfly, I +think sometimes when I'm sitting here alone. When you come to stay +you're mostly flitting about the wood and I only see you bit by bit. But +I couldn't tell you, Miss, my dear, what it's like to me. You do love +the wood, don't you? It's a fairy place too--same as this is." + +"It's all fairy, Mrs. Bennett," Robin said. "Perhaps I am a fairy too +when I am here. Nothing seems quite earthly." + +She bent forward suddenly and took the old face in her hands and kissed +it. + +"Eh! I shouldn't wonder," the old fairy woman chuckled sweetly. "I used +to hear tales of fairies in Devonshire in my young days. And you do look +like something witched--but you've been witched for happiness. Babies +look that way for a bit sometimes--as if they brought something with +them when they come to earth." + +"Yes," answered Robin. "Yes." + +It was true that she only flitted in and out, and that she spent hours +in the depths of the wood, and always came back as if from fairy land. + +Once she had a holiday of nearly a week. She came down from town one +afternoon in a pretty white frock and hat and white shoes and with an +air of such delicate radiance about her that Mrs. Bennett would have +clutched her to her breast, but for long-ago gained knowledge of the +respect due to those connected with great duchesses. + +"Like a new young bride you look, my pretty dear--Miss," she cried out +when she first saw her as she came up the path between the hollyhocks in +the garden. "God's surely been good to you this day. There's something +like heaven in your face." Robin stood still a moment looking like the +light at dawn and breathing with soft quickness as if she had come in +haste. + +"God has been good to me for a long time," she said. + + * * * * * + +In the deep wood she walked with Donal night after night when the +stillness was like heaven itself. Now and then a faint rustle among the +ferns or the half awakened movement and sleepy note of a bird in the +leaves slightly stirred the silence, but that was all. Lances of +moonlight pierced through the branches and their slow feet made no sound +upon the thick moss. Here and there pale foxglove spires held up their +late blossoms like flower spirits in the dim light. + +Donal thought--the first night she came to him softly through the +ferns--that her coming was like that of some fair thing not of earth--a +vision out of some old legend or ancient poem of faery. But he marched +towards her, soldierly--like a young Lohengrin whose silver mail had +changed to khaki. There was no longer war in the world--there never had +been. + +"I brought it with me," he said and took her close in his arms. For a +few minutes the wood seemed more still than before. + +"Do you hear my heart beat?" he said at last. + +"I feel it. Do you hear mine?" she whispered. + +"We love each other so!" he breathed. "We love each other so!" + +"Yes," she answered. "Yes." + +Did every one who saw him know how beautiful he was? Oh his smile that +loved her so and made her feel there was no fear or loneliness left on +earth! He was so tall and straight and strong--a young soldier statue! +When he laughed her heart always gave a strange little leap. It was such +a lovely sound. His very hands were beautiful--with long, strong smooth +fingers and smooth firm palms. Oh! Donal! Donal! And while she smiled as +a little angel might smile, small sobs of joy filled her throat. + +They sat together among the ferns, close side by side. He showed her the +thing he had brought with him. It was a very slender chain of gold with +a plain gold ring hung on it. He put the chain around her neck but +slipped the ring on her finger and kissed it again and again. + +"Wear it when we are together," he whispered. "I want to see it. It +makes you mine as much as if I had put it on in a church with a huge +organ playing." + +"I should be yours without it," answered Robin. "I _am_ yours." + +"Yes," he whispered again. "You are mine. And I am yours. It always was +so--since the morning stars sang together." + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"There are more women than those in Belgium who are being swept over by +the chariots of war and trampled on by marching feet," the Duchess of +Darte said to a group of her women friends on a certain afternoon. + +The group had met to work and some one had touched on a woeful little +servant-maid drama which had painfully disclosed itself in her +household. A small, plain kitchen maid had "walked out" in triumphant +ecstasy with a soldier who, a few weeks after bidding her good-bye, had +been killed in Belgium. She had been brought home to her employer's +house by a policeman who had dragged her out of the Serpentine. An old +story had become a modern one. In her childish ignorance and terror of +her plight she had seen no other way, but she had not had courage to +face more than very shallow water, with the result of finding herself +merely sticking in the mud and wailing aloud. + +"The policeman was a kind-hearted, sensible fellow," said the relator of +the incident. "He had a family of his own and what he said was 'She +looked such a poor little drowned rat of a thing I couldn't make up my +mind to run her in, ma'am. This 'ere war's responsible for a lot more +than what the newspapers tell about. Young chaps in uniform having to +brace up and perhaps lying awake in the night thinking over what the +evening papers said--and young women they've been sweet-heartin' +with--they get wild, in a way, and cling to each other and feel +desperate--and he talks and she cries--and he may have his head blown +off in a week's time. And who wonders that there's trouble.' Do you know +he actually told me that there were a number of girls he was keeping a +watch on. He said he'd begun to recognise a certain look in their eyes +when they walked alone in the park. He said it was a 'stark, frightened +look.' I didn't know what he meant, but it gave me a shudder." + +"I think I know," said the Duchess. "Poor, wretched children! There +ought to be a sort of moratorium in the matter of social laws. The old +rules don't hold. We are facing new conditions. This is a thing for +women to take in hand, practically, as they are taking in hand other +work. It must be done absolutely without prejudice. There is no time to +lecture or condemn or even deplore. There is only time to try to heal +wounds and quiet maddening pain and save life." + +Lady Lothwell took the subject up. + +"In the country places and villages, where the new army is swarming to +be billeted, the clergymen and their wives are greatly agitated. Even in +times of peace one's vicar's wife tells one stories in shocked whispers +of 'immorality'--though the rustic mind does not seem to regard it as +particularly immoral. An illegal baby is generally accepted with simple +resignation or merely a little fretful complaint even in quite decent +cottages. It is called--rather prettily, I think--'a love child' and the +nicer the grandparents are, the better they treat it. Mrs. Gracey, the +wife of our rector at Mowbray Wells told me a few days ago that she and +her husband were quite in despair over the excited, almost lawless, +holiday air of the village girls. There are so many young men about and +uniforms have what she calls 'such a dreadful effect.' Giddy and +unreliable young women are wandering about the lanes and fields with +stranger sweethearts at all hours. Even girls who have been good +Sunday-school scholars are becoming insubordinate. She did not in the +least mean to be improperly humorous--in fact she was quite tragic when +she said that the rector felt that he ought to marry, on the spot, every +rambling couple he met. He had already performed the ceremony in a +number of cases when he felt it was almost criminally rash and idiotic, +or would have been in time of peace." + +"That was what I meant by speaking of the women who were being swept +over by the chariot of war," said the Duchess. "It involves issues the +women who can think must hold in their minds and treat judicially. One +cannot moralise and be shocked before an advancing tidal wave. It has +always been part of the unreason and frenzy of times of war. When Death +is near, Life fights hard for itself. It does not care who or what it +strikes." + + * * * * * + +The tidal wave swept on and the uninitiated who formed the mass of +humanity in every country in the world, reading with feverish anxiety +almost hourly newspaper extras every day, tried to hide a secret fear +that no one knew what was really happening or could trust to the +absolute truth of any spoken or published statement. The exultant hope +of to-day was dashed to-morrow. The despair of the morning was lightened +by gleams of hope before night closed, and was darkened and lightened +again and again. Great cities and towns aroused themselves from a +half-somnolent belief in security. Village by village England awakened +to what she faced in common with an amazed and half incredulous world. +The amazement and incredulity were founded upon a certain mistaken +belief in a world predominance of the laws of decency and civilisation. +The statement of piety and morality that the world in question was a +bad one, filled with crime, had somehow so far been accepted with a +guileless reservation in the matter of a ruling majority whose lapses +from virtue were at least not openly vaunted treachery, blows struck at +any unprepared back presenting itself, merciless attacks on innocence +and weakness, and savage gluttings of lust, of fury, with exultant paeans +of self-glorification and praise of a justly applauding God. Before such +novelty of onslaught the British mind had breathless moments of feeling +itself stupid and incapably aghast. But after its first deep draughts of +the cup of staggering the nation braced up a really muscular back and +stood upon hard, stout legs and firm feet, immovable and fixed on solid +British earth. + +Incompetent raw troops gathered from fields, shops and desks, half +trained, half clad, half armed, according to pessimistic report, fared +forth across the narrow Channel and did strangely competent things--this +being man's way when in dire moments needs must be. Riff-raff exalted +itself and also died competently enough. The apparently aimless male +offspring of the so-called useless rich and great died competently +enough with the rest. The Roll of Honour raked fore and aft. The +youngsters who had tangoed best and had shone in _cabarets_ were swept +away as grass by scythes. + +"Will any one be left?" white Robin shuddered, clinging to Donal in the +wood at night. "Every day there are new ones. Almost every one who has +gone! Kathryn says that no one--_no one_ will ever come back!" + +"Hush--sh! Hush--sh!" whispered Donal. "Hush--sh! little lovely love!" +And his arms closed so tightly around her that she could for a few +moments scarcely breathe. + +The Duchess had much work for her to do and was glad to see that the +girl looked well and untired. When she was at home in Eaton Square her +grace was even more strict about the walks and country holidays than she +had been when she was away. + +"Health and strength were never so much needed," she said. "We must keep +our bodies in readiness for any test or strain." + +This notwithstanding, there was at last a morning when Robin looked as +though she had not slept well. It was so unusual a thing that the +Duchess spoke of it. + +"I hope you have not been sitting up late at your work?" she said. + +"No. Thank you," Robin answered. "I went to bed last night at ten +o'clock." + +The Duchess looked at her seriously. Never before had she seen her with +eyes whose misted heaviness suggested tears. Was it possible that there +seemed something at once strained and quivering about her mouth--as if +she were making an effort to force the muscles to hold it still. + +"I hope you would tell me if you had a headache. You must, you know, my +dear." + +Robin's slight movement nearer to her had the air of being almost +involuntary--as if it were impelled by an uncontrollable yearning to be +a little near _something_--some one. The strained and quivering look was +even more noticeable and her lifted eyes singularly expressed something +she was trying to hold back. + +"Thank you--indeed!" she said. "But it isn't headache. It is--things I +could not help thinking about in the night." + +The Duchess took her hand and patted it with firm gentleness. + +"You mustn't, my dear. You must try hard _not_ to do it. We shall be of +no use if we let our minds go. We must try to force ourselves into a +sort of deafness and blindness in certain directions. I am trying--with +all my might." + +"I know I must," Robin answered not too steadily. "I must--more than +most people. I'm not brave and strong. I'm weak and cowardly--cowardly." +Her breath caught itself and she went on quickly, "Work helps more than +anything else. I want to _work_ all the time. Please may I begin the +letters now?" + +She was bending over her desk when Lord Coombe came in earlier than was +his custom. The perfection of his dress, his smooth creaselessness and +quiet harmony of color and line seemed actually to add to the aged look +of his face. His fine rigidity was worn and sallowed. After his greeting +phrases he stood for a space quite silent while the Duchess watched him +as if waiting. + +"He has gone?" she said presently. She spoke in quite a low voice, but +it reached Robin's desk. + +"Yes. At dawn. The suddenness and secrecy of these goings add to the +poignancy of them. I saw him but he did not see me. I found out the hour +and made an effort. He is not my boy, but I wanted to _look_ at him. It +was perhaps for the last time. Good God! What a crime!" + +He spoke low himself and rather quickly and with a new tone in his +voice--as if he had been wrenched and was in pain. + +"I am not in a heroic mood. I was only sick and furious when I watched +them go by. They were a handsome, clean-built lot. But he stood out--the +finest among them. His mere beauty and strength brought hideous +thoughts into one's mind--thoughts of German deviltries born of hell." + +Robin was looking at her hand which had stopped writing. She could not +keep it still. She must get up and go to her own rooms. Would her knees +shake under her like that when she tried to stand on her feet? The low +talking went on and she scarcely heard what was said. She and Donal had +always known this was coming; they had known it even the first day they +had talked together in the Garden. The knowledge had been the spectre +always waiting hidden at some turn in the path ahead. That was why they +had been so frightened and desperate and hurried. They had clung +together and shut their eyes and caught at the few hours--the few +heavenly hours. He had said it would come suddenly. But she had not +thought it would be as sudden as this. Last night a soldier had brought +a few wild, passionate blotted lines to her. Yes, they had been blotted +and blistered. She pushed her chair back and began to rise from it. + +There had been a few seconds of dead silence. Lord Coombe had been +standing thinking and biting his lip. "He is gone!" he said. "_Gone!_" + +They did not notice Robin as she left the room. Outside the door she +stood in the hall and looked up the staircase piteously. It looked so +long and steep that she felt it was like a path up a mountain. But she +moved towards the bottom step and began to climb stair by stair--stair +by stair--dragging at the rail of the balustrade. + +When she reached her room she went in and shut the door. She fell down +upon the floor and sat there. Long ago his mother had taken him away +from her. Now the War had taken him. The spectre stood straight in the +path before her. + +"It was such a short time," she said, shaking. "And he is gone. And the +fairy wood is there still--and the ferns!--All the nights--always!" + +And what happened next was not a thing to be written about--though at +the time the same thing was perhaps at that very hour happening in +houses all over England. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The effect of something like unreality produced in the mind of the +mature and experienced by a girl creature, can only be equaled by the +intensity of the sense of realness in the girl herself. That centre of +the world in which each human being exists is in her case more +poignantly a centre than any other. She passes smiling or serious, a +thing of untried eyes and fair unmarked smoothness of texture, and +onlookers who have lived longer than she know that the unmarked +untriedness is a sign that so far "nothing" has happened in her life and +in most cases believe that "nothing" is happening. They are quite sure +they know--long after the thing has ceased to be true. The surface of +her is so soft and fair, and its lack of any suggestion of abysses or +chasms seems to make them incredible things. But the centre of the world +contains all things and when one is at the beginning of life and sees +them for the first time they assume strange proportions. It enters a +room, it talks lightly or sweetly, it whirls about in an airy dance, +this pretty untested thing; and, among those for whom the belief in the +reality of strange proportions has modified itself through long +experience, only those of the thinking habit realise that at any moment +the testing--the marking with deep scores may begin or has perhaps begun +already. At eighteen or twenty a fluctuation of flower-petal tint which +may mean an imperfect night can signify no really important cause. What +could eighteen or twenty have found to think about in night watches? But +in its centre of the world as it stands on the stage with the curtain +rolling up, those who have lived longer--so very long--are only the dim +audience sitting in the shadowy auditorium looking on at passionately +real life with which they have really nothing whatever to do, because +what they have seen is past and what they have learned has lost its +importance and meaning with the changing of the years. The lying awake +and tossing on pillows--if lying awake there is--has its cause in _real_ +joys--or griefs--not in things atrophied by time. So it seems on the +stage, in the first act. If the curtain goes down on anguish and despair +it seems equally the pitiless truth that it can never rise again; the +play is ended; the lights go out forever; the theatre crumbles to dust; +the world comes to an end. But the dim audience sitting in the shadow do +not generally know this. + +To those who came in and out of the house in Eaton Square the figure +sitting at the desk writing letters or taking orders from the Duchess +was that of the unconsidered and unreal girl. Among the changing groups +of women with intensely absorbed and often strained faces the +kind-hearted observing ones were given to noticing Robin and speaking to +her almost affectionately because she was so attractive an object as +well as so industriously faithful to her work. Girls who were +Jacqueminot-rose flushed and who looked up to answer people with eyes +like an antelope's were not customarily capable of concentrating their +attention entirely upon brief letters of request and lists of +necessaries for hospitals and comfort kits. This type was admitted to be +frequently found readier for service in the preparation of +entertainments "for the benefit of"--more especially when such benefits +took the form of dancing. But the Duchess' little Miss Lawless came and +went on errands, wasting no time. She never forgot things or was slack +in any way. Her antelope eyes expressed a kind of yearning eagerness to +do all she could without a moment's delay. + +"She works as if it were a personal thing with her," Lady Lothwell once +said thoughtfully. "I have seen girls wear that look when they are war +brides or have lovers or brothers at the front." + +But she remained to the world generally only a rather specially lovely +specimen of the somewhat unreal young being with whom great agonies and +terrors had but little to do. + +On a day when the Duchess had a cold and was obliged to remain in her +room Robin was with her, writing and making notes of instruction at her +bedside. In the afternoon a cold and watery sun making its way through +the window threw a chill light on her as she drew near with some papers +in her hand. It was the revealing of this light which made the Duchess +look at her curiously. + +"You are not quite as blooming as you were, my child," she said. "About +two months ago you were particularly blooming. Lady Lothwell and Lord +Coombe and several other people noticed it. You have not been taking +your walks as regularly as you did. Let me look at you." She took her +hand and drew her nearer. "No. This will not do." + +Robin stood very still. + +"How could _any_ one be blooming!" broke from her. + +"You are thinking about things in the night again," said the Duchess. + +"Yes," said Robin. "Every night. Sometimes all night." + +The Duchess watched her anxiously. + +"It's so--lonely!" There was a hint of hysteric breakdown in the +exclamation. "How can I--_bear_ it!" She turned and went back to her +writing table and there she sat down and hid her face, trembling in an +extraordinary way. + +"You are as unhappy as that?" said the Duchess. "And you are _lonely_?" + +"All the world is lonely," Robin cried--not weeping, only shaking. +"Everything is left to itself to suffer. God has gone away." + +The Duchess trembled a little herself. She too had hideously felt +something like the same thing at times of late. But this soft shaking +thing--! There shot into her mind like a bolt a sudden thought. Was this +something less inevitable--something more personal? She wondered what +would be best to say. + +"Even older people lose their nerve sometimes," she decided on at last. +"When you said that work was the greatest help you were right. Work--and +as much sleep as one can get, and walking and fresh air. And we must +help each other--old and young. I want you to help _me_, child. I need +you." + +Robin stood up and steadied herself somehow. She took up a letter in a +hand not yet quite still. + +"Please need me," she said. "Please let me do everything--anything--and +never stop. If I never stop in the day time perhaps I shall sleep better +at night." + +As there came surging in day by day bitter and cruel waves of war +news--stories of slaughter by land and sea, of massacre in simple +places, of savagery wrought on wounded men and prisoners in a +hydrophobia of hate let loose, it was ill lying awake in the dark +remembering loved beings surrounded by the worst of all the world has +ever known. Robin was afraid to look at the newspapers which her very +duties themselves obliged her to familiarise herself with, and she could +not close her ears. With battleship raids on harmless coast towns, +planned merely to the end of the wanton killing of such unconsidered +trifles of humanity as little children and women and men at their +every-day work, the circle of horror seemed to draw itself in closely. + +Zeppelin raids leaving fragments of bodies on pavements and broken +things under fallen walls, were not so near as the women who dragged +themselves back to their work with death in their faces written +large--the death of husband or son or lover. These brought realities +close indeed. + +"I don't know how he died," one of them said to the Duchess. "I don't +know how long it took him to die. I don't want to be told. I am glad he +is dead. Yes, I am glad. I wish the other two were dead too. I'm not +splendid and heroic. I thought I was at first, but I couldn't keep it +up--after I heard about Mrs. Foster's boy. If I believed there was +anything to thank, I should say 'Thank God I have no more sons.'" + +That night Robin lay in the dark thinking of the dream. Had there been a +dream--or had it only been like the other things one dreamed about? +Sometimes an eerie fearfulness beset her vaguely. If there were letters +each day! But letters belonged to a time when rivers of blood did not +run through the world. She sat up in bed and clasped her hands round her +knees gazing into the blackness which seemed to enclose and shut her in. +It _had_ been true! She could see the wood and the foxglove spires +piercing the ferns. She could hear the ferns rustle and the little bird +sounds and stirrings. And oh! she could hear Donal whispering. "Can you +hear my heart beat?" + +He had said it over and over again. His heart seemed to be so big and to +beat so strongly. She had thought it was because he was so big and +marvellous himself. It had been rapture to lay her cheek and ear against +his breast and listen. Everything had been so still. They had been so +still--so still themselves for pure joy in their close, close nearness. +Yes, the dream had been true. But here she sat in the dark and +Donal--where was Donal? Where millions of men were marching, +marching--only to kill each other--thinking of nothing but killing. +Donal too. He must kill. If he were a brave soldier he must only think +of killing and not be afraid because at any moment he might be killed +too. She clutched her knees and shuddered, feeling her forehead grow +damp. Donal killing a man--perhaps a boy like himself--a boy who might +have a dream of his own! How would his blue eyes look while he was +killing a man? Oh! No! No! No! Not Donal! + +With her forehead still damp and her hands damp also she found herself +getting out of bed and walking up and down in the dark. She was wringing +her hands and sobbing. She must not think of things like these. She must +shut them out of her mind and think only of the dream. It had been +true--it had! And then the strange thought came to her that out of all +the world only he and she had known of their dreaming. And if he never +came back--! (Oh! please, God, let him come back!) no one need ever +know. It was their own, own dream and how could she bear to speak of it +to any one and why should she? He had said he wanted to have this one +thing of his very own before his life ended--if it was going to end. If +it ended it would be his sacred secret and hers forever. She might live +to be an old woman with white hair and no one would ever guess that +since the morning stars sang together they two had belonged to each +other. + +Night after night she lay awake with thoughts like these. Through the +waiting days she began to find an anguished comfort in the feeling that +she was keeping their secret for him and that no one need ever know. +More than once she went on quietly with her writing when people stood +near her and spoke of him and his regiment, which every one was +interested in because he was so handsome and so young and new to the +leading of men. There were rumours that he must have been plunged into +fierce fighting though definite news did not come through without delay. + +"Boys like that," she heard. "They ought to be kept at home. All the +greatest names will be extinct. And they are the splendid, silly ones +who expose themselves most. Young Lord Elphinstowe a week ago--the last +of his line! Scarcely a fragment of him to put together." There were +women who had a hysterical desire to talk about such things and make +gruesome pictures even of slightly founded stories. But when she heard +them she did not even lift her eyes from her work. + +One marked feature of their meetings--though they themselves had not +marked it--had been that they had never talked of the future. It had +been as though there were no future. To live perfectly through the few +hours--even for the one hour or half hour they could snatch--was all +that they could plan and hope for. Could they meet to-morrow in this +place or that? When they met were they quite safe and blissfully alone? +The spectre had always been waiting and they had always been trying to +forget it. Each meeting had seemed so brief and crowded and breathlessly +sweet. + +Only a boy and a girl could have so lost sight of all but their hour and +perhaps also only this boy and girl, because their hour had struck at a +time when all futures seemed to hold only chances that at any moment +might come to an end. + +"Do you hear my heart beat? There is no time--no time!" these two things +had been the beginning, the middle and the end. + +Sometimes Robin went and sat in the Gardens and one day in coming out +she met her mother whom she had not seen for months. Feather had been +exultingly gay and fashionably patriotic and she was walking round the +corner to a meeting to be held at her club. The khaki colouring of her +coat and brief skirt and cap added to their military air with pipings +and cords and a small upright feather of scarlet. She wore a badge and a +jewelled pin or so. She was about to pass Robin unrecognised but took a +second glance at her and stopped. + +"I didn't know you," she exclaimed. "What is the matter?" + +"Nothing--thank you," Robin answered pausing. + +"Something _is_! You are losing your looks. Is your mistress working you +to death?" + +"The Duchess is very kind indeed. She is most careful that I don't do +too much. I like my work more every day." + +Feather took her in with a sharp scrutinising. She seemed to look her +over from her hat to her shoes before she broke into her queer little +critical laugh. + +"Well, I can't congratulate her on the result. You are thin. You've lost +your colour and your mouth is beginning to drag at the corners." And she +nodded and marched away, the high heels of her beautiful small brown +boots striking the pavement with a military click. + +As she had dressed in the morning Robin had wondered if she was mistaken +in thinking that the awful nights had made her look different. + +If there had been letters to read--even a few lines such as are all a +soldier may write--to read over and over again, to hide in her breast +all day, to kiss and cry over and lay her cheek upon at night. Such a +small letter would have been such a huge comfort and would have made the +dream seem less far away. But everybody waited for letters--and waited +and waited. And sometimes they went astray or were lost forever and +people were left waiting. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +But there were no letters. And she was obliged to sit at her desk in the +corner and listen to what people said about what was happening, and now +and then to Lord Coombe speaking in low tones to the Duchess of his +anxiety and uncertainty about Donal. Anxiety was increasing on every +side and such of the unthinking multitude as had at last ceased to +believe that one magnificent English blow would rid the earth of +Germany, had begun to lean towards belief in a vision of German millions +adding themselves each day to other millions advancing upon France, +Belgium, England itself, a grey encroaching mass rolling forward and +ever forward, overwhelming even neutral countries until not only Europe +but the whole world was covered, and the mailed fist beat its fragments +into such dust as it chose. Even those who had not lost their heads and +who knew more than the general public, wore grave faces because they +felt they knew too little and could not know more. Coombe's face was +hard and grey many days. + +"It seems as if one lost them in the flood sometimes," Robin heard him +say to the Duchess. "I saw his mother yesterday and could give her no +definite news. She believes that he is where the worst fighting is going +on. I could not tell her he was not." + +As, when they had been together, the two had not thought of any future, +so, now Robin was alone, she could not think of any to-morrow--perhaps +she would not. She lived only in the day which was passing. She rose, +dressed and presented herself to the Duchess for orders; she did the +work given her to do, she saw the day gradually die and the lights +lighted; she worked as long as she was allowed to do so--and then the +day was over and she climbed the staircase to her room. + +Sometimes she sat and wrote letters to Donal--long yearning letters, but +when they were written she tore them into pieces or burned them. If they +were to keep their secret she could not send such letters because there +were so many chances that they would be lost. Still there was a hopeless +comfort in writing them, in pouring out what she would not have written +even if she had been sure that it would reach him safely. No girl who +loved a man who was at the Front would let him know that it seemed as if +her heart were slowly breaking. She must be brave--brave! But she was +not brave, that she knew. The news from the Front was worse every day; +there were more women with awful faces; some workers had dropped out and +came no more. One of them who had lost three sons in one battle had died +a few days after the news arrived because the shock had been too great +for her strength to endure. There were new phases of anguish on all +sides. She did all she was called on to do with a secret passion of +eagerness; each smallest detail was the sacred thing. She begged the +Duchess to allow her to visit and help the mothers of sons who were +fighting--or wounded or missing. That made her feel nearer to things she +wanted to feel near to. When they cried or told her stories, she could +understand. When she worked she might be doing things which might +somehow reach Donal or boys like Donal. + +Howsoever long her life was she knew one thing would never be blotted +out by time--the day she went down to Mersham Wood to see Mrs. Bennett, +whose three grandsons had been killed within a few days of each other. +She had received the news in one telegram. There was no fairy wood any +longer, there were only bare branched trees standing holding out naked +arms to the greyness of the world. They looked as if they were +protesting against something. The grass and ferns were brown and sodden +with late rains and there were no hollyhocks and snapdragons in the +cottage garden--only on either side of the brick path dead brown stalks, +some of them broken by the wind. Things had not been neatly cut down and +burned and swept away. The grandsons had made the garden autumn-tidy +every year before this one. + +The old fairy woman sat on a clean print-covered arm chair by a very +small fire. She had a black print dress on and a black shawl and a black +ribbon round her cap. Her Bible lay on a little table near her but it +was closed. + +"Don't get up, please, Mrs. Bennett," Robin said when she lifted the +latch and entered. + +The old fairy woman looked at her in a dazed way. + +"I'm so eye-dimmed with crying that I can scarcely see," she said. + +Robin came to her and knelt down on the hearth. + +"I'm your lodger," she faltered, "who--who used to love the fairy wood +so." + +She had not known what she would say when she spoke first but she had +certainly not thought of saying anything like this. And she certainly +had not known that she would suddenly find herself overwhelmed by a +rising tidal wave of unbearable woe and drop her face on to the old +woman's lap with wild sobbing. She had not come down from London to do +this--but away from the world--in the clean, still little cottage room +which seemed to hold only grief and silence and death the wave rose and +broke and swept her with it. + +Mrs. Bennett only gave herself up to the small clutching hands and sat +and shivered. + +"No one--will come in--will they?" Robin was gasping. "There is no one +to hear, is there?" + +"No one on earth," said the old fairy woman. "Quiet and loneliness are +left if there's naught else." + +What she thought it would be hard to say. The blow which had come to her +at the end of a long life had, as it were, felled her as a tree might +have been felled in Mersham Wood. As the tree might have lain for a +short time with its leaves still seeming alive on its branches so she +seemed living. But she had been severed from her root. She listened to +the girl's sobbing and stroked her hair. + +"Don't be afraid. There's no one left to hear but the walls and the bare +trees in the wood," she said. + +Robin sobbed on. + +"You've a kind heart, but you're not crying for me," she said next. +"You've a black trouble of your own. There's few that hasn't these days. +And it's worse for the young that's got to live through it and after it. +When Mary Ann comes to see after me to-morrow morning I may be lying +dead, thank God. But you're a child." The small clutching hands clutched +more piteously because it was so true--so true. Whatsoever befell there +were all the long, long years to come--with only the secret left and the +awful fear that sometime she might begin to be afraid that it was not a +real thing--since no one had ever known or ever would know and since she +could never speak of it or hear it spoken of. + +"I'm so afraid," she shuddered at last in a small low voice. "I'm so +_lonely_!" The old fairy woman's stroking hand stopped short. + +"Is there--anything--you'd like to tell me--anything in the world?" she +asked tremulously. "There's nothing I'd mind." + +The pretty head on her lap shook itself to and fro. + +"No! No! No! No!" the small choked voice gave out. "Nothing--nothing! +Nothing. That's why it's so lonely." + +As she had waited alone through the night in her cradle, as she had +watched the sparrows on the roofs above her in the nursery, as she had +played alone until Donal came, so it was her fate to be alone now. + +"But you came away from London because there were too many people there +and you wanted to be in a place where there was nothing but an empty +cottage and an old woman. Some would call it lonelier here." + +"The wood is here--the fairy wood!" she cried and her sobbing broke +forth tenfold more bitterly. + +Mrs. Bennett had seen in her day much of the troubles of others and many +of the things she had seen had been the troubles of women who were +young. Sometimes it had been possible to help them, sometimes it had +not, but in any case she had always known that help could be given only +if one asked careful questions. The old established rules with regard to +one's behaviour in connection with duchesses and their belongings had +strangely faded away since the severing of her root as all things on +earth had faded and lost consequence. She remembered no rules as she +bent her head over the girl and almost whispered to her. + +"I won't ask no questions after this one, Miss dear," she said quaking. +"But was there ever--a young gentleman--in the wood?" + +"No! No! No! No!" four times again Robin cried it. "Never! Never!" And +she lifted her face and let her see it white and streaming and with eyes +which desperately defied and as they defied implored for love and aid +and mercy. + +The old fairy woman's nutcracker mouth trembled. It mumbled pathetically +before she was able to control it. She knew she had heard this kind of +thing before though in cases with which great ladies had nothing +whatever to do. And at the same time there was something in this case +that was somehow different. + +"I don't know what to say or do," she faltered helplessly. "With the +world like this--we've got to try to comfort each other--and we don't +know how." + +"Let me come into your arms," said Robin like a child. "Hold me and let +me hold you." She crept near and folding soft arms about the old figure +laid her cheek against the black shawl. "Let us cry. There's nothing for +either of us to do but cry until our hearts break in two. We are all +alone and no one can hear us." + +"There's naught but the wood outside," moaned the old fairy woman. + +The voice against the shawl was a moan also. + +"Perhaps the wood hears us--perhaps it hears. Oh! me! Oh! me!" + + * * * * * + +When she reached London she saw that there were excited groups of people +talking together in the streets. Among them were women who were crying, +or protesting angrily or comforting others. But she had seen the same +thing before and would not let herself look at people or hear anything +she could shut her ears against. Some new thing had happened, perhaps +the Germans had taken some important town and wreaked their vengeance on +the inhabitants, perhaps some new alarming move had been made and +disaster stared the Allies in the face. She staggered through the crowds +in the station and did not really know how she reached Eaton Square. + +Half an hour later she was sitting at her desk quiet and neat in her +house dress. She had told the Duchess all she could tell her of her +visit to old Mrs. Bennett. + +"We both cried a good deal," she explained when she saw her employer +look at her stained eyes. "She keeps remembering what they were like +when they were babies--how rosy and fat they were and how they learned +to walk and tumbled about on her little kitchen floor. And then how big +they grew and how fine they looked in their khaki. She says the worst +thing is wondering how they look now. I told her she mustn't wonder. She +mustn't think at all. She is quite well taken care of. A girl called +Mary Ann comes in three times a day to wait on her--and her daughter +comes when she can but her trouble has made her almost wander in her +mind. It's because they are _all_ gone. When she comes in she forgets +everything and sits and says over and over again, 'If it had only been +Tom--or only Tom and Will--or if it had been Jem--or only Jem and +Tom--but it's Will--and Jem--and Tom,'--over and over again. I am not at +all sure I know how to comfort people. But she was glad I came." + +When Lord Coombe came in to make his daily visit he looked rigid +indeed--as if he were stiff and cold though it was not a cold night. + +He sat down by the Duchess and took a telegram from his pocket. Glancing +up at him, Robin was struck by a whiteness about his mouth. He did not +speak at once. It was as though even his lips were stiff. + +"It has come," he said at last. "Killed. A shell." The Duchess repeated +his words after him. Her lips seemed stiff also. + +"Killed. A shell." + +He handed the telegram to her. It was the customary officially +sympathetic announcement. She read it more than once. Her hands began to +tremble. But Coombe sat with face hidden. He was bowed like an old man. + +"A shell," he said slowly as if thinking the awful thing out. "That I +heard unofficially." Then he added a strange thing, dragging the words +out. "How could that--be blown to atoms?" + +The Duchess scarcely breathed her answer which was as strange as his +questioning. + +"Oh! How _could_ it!" + +She put out her shaking hand and touched his sleeve, watching his face +as if something in it awed her. + +"You _loved_ him?" She whispered it. But Robin heard. + +"I did not know I had loved anything--but I suppose that has been it. +His physical perfection attracted me at first--his extraordinary +contrast to Henry. It was mere pride in him as an heir and successor. +Afterwards it was a _beautiful_ look his young blue eyes had. Beautiful +seems an unmasculine word for such a masculine lad, but no other word +expresses it. It was a sort of valiant brightness and joy in living and +being friends with the world. I saw it every time he came to talk to me. +I wished he were my son. I even tried to think of him as my son." He +uttered a curious low sound like a sudden groan, "My son has been +killed." + + * * * * * + +When he was about to leave the house and stood in the candle-lighted +hall he was thinking of many dark things which passed unformedly through +his mind and made him move slowly. He was slow in his movements as the +elderly maid servant assisted him to put on his overcoat, and he was as +slowly drawing on his gloves when his eyes--slow also--travelled up the +staircase and stopped at the first landing, where he seemed to see an +indefinite heap of something lying. + +"Am I mistaken or is--something--lying on the landing?" he said to the +woman. + +The fact that he was impelled to make the inquiry seemed to him part of +his abnormal state of mind. What affair of his after all were curiously +dropped bundles upon his hostess' staircase? But-- + +"Please go and look at it," he added, and the woman gave him a troubled +look and went up the stairs. + +He himself was only a moment behind her. He actually found himself +following her as if he were guessing something. When the maid cried out, +he vaguely knew what he had been guessing. + +"Oh!" the woman gasped, bending down. "It's poor little Miss Lawless! +Oh, my lord," wildly after a nearer glance, "She looks as if she was +dead!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +"Now no one will ever know." + +Robin waking from long unconsciousness found her mind saying this before +consciousness which was clear had actually brought her back to the +world. + +"Now no one will ever know--ever." + +She seemed to have been away somewhere in the dark for a very long time. +She was too tired to try to remember what had happened before she began +to climb the staircase, which grew steeper and longer as she dragged +herself from step to step. But in the back of her mind there was one +particular fact she knew without trying to remember how she learned it. +A shell had fallen somewhere and when it had burst Donal was "blown to +atoms." How big were atoms--how small were they? Several times when she +reached this point she descended into the abyss of blackness and fainted +again, though people were doing things to her and trying to keep her +awake in ways which troubled her greatly. Why should they disturb her so +when sinking into blackness was better? + +"Now no one will ever know." + +She was lying in her bed in her own room. Some one had undressed her. It +was a nice room and very quiet and there was only a dim light burning. +It was a long time before she came back, after one of the descents into +the black abyss, and became slowly aware that Something was near her +bed. She did not actually see it because at first she could not have +lifted or turned her eyes. She could only lie still. But she knew that +it was near her and she wished it were not. At last--by degrees it +ceased to be a mere _thing_ and evolved into a person. It was a man who +was holding her wrist and watching her quietly and steadily--as if he +had been doing it for some time. No one else was in the room. The people +who had been disturbing her by doing things had gone away. + +"Now," she whispered dragging out word after word, "no one +will--ever--ever know." But she was not conscious she had said it even +in a whisper which could be heard. She thought the thing had only passed +again through her mind. + +"Donal! Blown--to--atoms," she said in the same way. "How small is--an +atom?" She was sinking into the blackness again when the man dropped her +wrist quickly and did something to her which brought her back. + +"Don't!" she moaned. "Please--don't." + +But he would not let her go. + + * * * * * + +Perhaps days and nights passed--or perhaps only one day and night before +she found herself still lying in her bed but feeling somehow more awake +when she opened her eyes and found the same man sitting close to her +holding her wrist again. + +"I am Dr. Redcliff," he said in a quiet voice. "You are much better. I +want to ask you some questions. I will not tire you." + +He began to ask her questions very gently as if he did not wish to alarm +or disturb her. She had been found in a dead faint lying on the landing. +She had remained unconscious for an abnormally long time. When she had +been brought out of one faint she had fallen into another and this had +happened again and again. The indication was that she had been struck +down by some shock. In examining her he had found that she was +underweight. He wished to discover if she had been secretly working too +late at night in her deep interest in what she was doing. What exactly +had her diet been? Had she taken enough exercise in the open air? How +had she slept? The Duchess was seriously anxious. + +They were the questions doctors always asked people except that he +seemed more desirous of being sure of the amount of exercise she had +taken than about anything else. He was specially interested in the times +when she had been in the country. She was obliged to tell him she had +always been alone. He thought it would have been better if she had had +some companion. Once when he was asking her about her visits to Mrs. +Bennett's cottage the blackness almost engulfed her again. But he was +watching her very closely and perhaps seeing her turn white--gave her +some stimulant in time. He had a clever face which was not unkind, but +she wished that it had not had such a keenly watchful look. More than +once the watchfulness tired her and she closed her eyes because she did +not want him to look into them--as if he were asking questions which +were not altogether doctors' questions. + +When he left her and went downstairs to talk to the Duchess he asked a +good many quiet questions again. He was a man whose intense interest in +his profession did not confine itself wholly to its scientific aspect. +An extraordinarily beautiful child swooning into death was not a mere +pathological incident to him. And he knew many strange things brought +about by the abnormal conditions of war. He himself was conscious of +being overstrung with the rest of a tormented world. + +He knew of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless and he had heard more stories of her +household, her loveliness and Lord Coombe than he had time to remember. +He had, of course, heard the unsavoury rumours of the child who was +being brought up for some nefarious object. As he knew Lord Coombe +rather well he did not believe stories about him which went beyond a +certain limit. Not until he had talked to the Duchess for some time did +he discover that the hard-smitten child lying half-lifeless in her bed +was the very young heroine of the quite favourite scandal. The knowledge +gave him furiously to think. It was Coombe who had interested the +Duchess in her. The Duchess had no doubt taken her under her protection +for generously benign reasons. He pursued his questioning delicately. + +"Has she had any young friends? She seems to have taken her walks alone +and even to have gone into the country by herself." + +"The life of the young people in its ordinary sense of companionship and +amusement has been stopped by the War. There may be some who go on in +the old way but she has not been one of them," the Duchess said. + +"Visits to old women in remote country places are not stimulating +enough. Has she had _no_ companions?" + +"I tried--" said the Duchess wearily. She was rather pale herself. "The +news of the Sarajevo tragedy arrived on the day I gave a small dance for +her--to bring some young people together." Her waxen pallor became even +more manifest. "How they danced!" she said woefully. "What living things +they were! Oh!" the exclamation broke forth at a suddenly overwhelming +memory. "The beautiful boy--the splendid lad who was blown to atoms--the +news came only yesterday--was there dancing with the rest!" + +Dr. Redcliff leaned forward slightly. + +"To hear that _any_ boy has been blown to atoms is a hideous thing," he +said. "Who brought the news? Was Miss Lawless in the room when it was +brought?" + +"I think so though I am not sure. She comes in and goes out very +quietly. I am afraid I forgot everything else. The shock was a great +one. My old friend Lord Coombe brought the news. The boy would have +succeeded him. We hear again and again of great families becoming +extinct. The house of Coombe has not been prolific. The War has taken +its toll. Donal Muir was the last of them. One has felt as though it was +of great importance that--that a thing like that should be carried on." +She began to speak in a half-numbed introspective way. "What does it +matter really? Only one boy of thousands--perhaps hundreds of thousands +before it is over? But--but it's the youngness--the power--the potential +meaning--wasted--torn--scattered in fragments." She stopped and sat +quite still, gazing before her as though into space. + +"She is very young. She has been absorbed in war work and living in a +highly charged atmosphere for some time." Dr. Redcliff said presently, +"If she knew the poor lad--" + +"She did not really know him well, though they had met as children. They +danced together that night and sat and talked in the conservatory. But +she never saw him again," the Duchess explained. + +"It might have been too much, even if she did not know him well. We must +keep her quiet," said Dr. Redcliff. + +Very shortly afterwards he rose and went away. + +An hour later he was sitting in a room at Coombe House alone with Lord +Coombe. It was the room in which Mademoiselle Valle had found his +lordship on the night of Robin's disappearance. No one knew now where +Mademoiselle was or if she were still alive. She had been living with +her old parents in a serene Belgian village which had been destroyed by +the Germans. Black tales had been told of which Robin had been allowed +to hear nothing. She had been protected in many ways. + +Though they had not been intimates the two men knew each other well. To +each individually the type of the other was one he could understand. It +was plain to Lord Coombe that Redcliff found his case of rather special +interest, which he felt was scarcely to be wondered at. As he himself +had seen the too slender prostrate figure and the bloodless small face +with its curtain of lashes lying too heavily close to the cold cheek, he +had realised that their helpless beauty alone was enough to arrest more +than ordinary attention. She had, as the woman had cried out, looked as +if she were dead, and dead loveliness is a reaching power. + +Dr. Redcliff spoke of her thoughtfully and with a certain gentleness. He +at first included her with many other girls, the changes in whose +methods of life he had been observing. + +"The closed gates in their paths are suddenly thrown open for them +because no one has to lock and unlock them," he said. "It produces +curious effects. The light-minded ones take advantage of the fact and +find dangerous amusement in it sometimes. The serious ones go about the +work they have taken in hand. Miss Lawless is, I gather, one of the +thinking and feeling ones and has gone about a great deal." + +"Yes. The Duchess has tried to save her from her own ardour, but perhaps +she has worked too steadily." + +"Has the Duchess always known where she has gone and what people she has +seen?" + +"That would have been impossible. She wished her to feel free and if we +had not wished it, one can see that it would not have been possible to +stand guard over her. Neither was it necessary." + +But he began to listen with special attention. There awakened in his +mind the consciousness that he was being asked questions which suggested +an object. The next one added to his awakening sense of the thing. + +"Her exercise and holidays were always taken alone?" Redcliff said. + +"The Duchess believed so." + +"She has evidently been living under a poignant strain and some ghastly +shock has struck her down. I think she must have been in the room when +you brought the news of young Muir's terrible death." + +"She was," said Coombe. "I saw her and then forgot." + +"I thought so," Redcliff went on. "She cried out several times, 'Blown +to atoms--atoms! Donal!' She was not conscious of the cries." + +"Are you sure she said 'Donal'?" Coombe asked. + +"Quite sure. It was that which set me thinking. I have thought a great +deal. She has touched me horribly. The mere sight of her was enough. +There is desolation in her childlikeness." + +Lord Coombe sat extremely still. The room was very silent till Redcliff +went on in dropped voice. + +"There was another thing she said. She whispered it brokenly word by +word. She did not know that, either. She whispered, 'Now--no one--will +ever--know--ever.'" + +Lord Coombe still sat silent. What he was thinking could not be read in +his face but being a man of astute perception and used to the study of +faces Dr. Redcliff knew that suddenly some startling thought had leaped +within him. + +"You were right to come to me," he said. "What is it you--suspect?" + +That Dr. Redcliff was almost unbearably moved was manifest. He was not a +man of surface emotions but his face actually twitched and he hastily +gulped something down. + +"She is a heartbreakingly beautiful thing," he said. "She has been +left--through sheer kindness--in her own young hands. They were too +young--and these are hours of cataclysm. She knows nothing. She does not +know that--she will probably have a child." + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The swiftness of the process by which the glowing little Miss Lawless, +at whom people had found themselves involuntarily looking so often, +changed from a rose of a girl into something strangely like a small +waxen image which walked, called forth frequent startled comment. She +was glanced at even oftener than ever. + +"Is she going into galloping consumption? Her little chin has grown +quite pointed and her eyes are actually frightening," was an early +observation. But girls who are going into galloping consumption cough +and look hectic and are weaker day by day and she had no cough, nor was +she hectic and, though it was known that Dr. Redcliff saw her +frequently, she insisted that she was not ill and begged the Duchess to +let her go on with her work. + +"But the _done-for_ woe in her face is inexplicable--in a girl who has +had no love affairs and has not even known any one who could have +flirted with her and ridden away. The little thing's _done for_. It +cries out aloud. I can't bear to look at her," one woman protested. + +"I shall send her away if she does not improve," the Duchess said. "She +shall go to some remote place in the Highlands and she shall not be +allowed to remember that there is a war in the world. If I can manage to +send her old nurse Dowie with her she will stand guard over her like an +old shepherd." + +She also had been struck by the look which had been spoken of as +"done-for." Girls did not look like that for any common reason. She +asked herself questions and with great care sat on foot a gradual and +delicate cross-examination of Robin herself. But she discovered no +reason common or uncommon for the thing she recognised each time she +looked at her. It was inevitable that she should talk to Lord Coombe but +she met in him a sort of barrier. She could not avoid seeing that he was +preoccupied. She remotely felt that he was turning over in his mind +something which precluded the possibility of his giving attention to +other questions. + +"I almost feel as if your interest in her had lapsed," she said at last. + +"No. It has taken a--an entirely new form," was his answer. + +It was when his glance encountered hers after he said this that each +regarded the other with a slow growing anxiousness. Something came to +life in each pair of eyes and it was something disturbed and reluctant. +The Duchess spoke first. + +"She has had no companions," she said painfully. "The War put an end to +what I thought I might do for her. There has been _nobody_." + +"At present it is a curious fact that in one sense we know very little +of each other's lives," he answered. "The old leisurely habit of +observing details no longer exists. As Redcliff said in speaking of +her--and girls generally--all the gates are thrown wide open." + +The Duchess was very silent for a space before she made her reply. + +"Yes." + +"You do not know her mother?" + +"No." + +"Two weeks ago she gave me something to reflect on. Her feeling for her +daughter is that of a pretty cat-like woman for something enragingly +younger than herself. She always resented her. She was infuriated by +your interest in her. She said to me one afternoon, 'I hope the Duchess +is still pleased with her companion. I saw her to-day in Bond Street and +she looked like a housemaid I once had to dismiss rather suddenly. I am +glad she is in her grace's house and not in mine.'" + +After a few seconds-- + +"_I_ am glad she is in my house and not in hers," the Duchess said. + +"After I had spoken to her at some length and she had quite lost her +temper, she added 'You evidently don't know that she has been meeting +Donal Muir. He told me so himself at the Erwyn's. I asked him if he had +seen her since the dance and he owned that he had--and then was cross at +himself for making the slip. I did not ask him how _often_ he had met +her. He would not have told me. But if he met her once he met her as +often as he chose.' She was not lying when she said it. I know her. I +have been thinking constantly ever since." There was a brief silence +between them; then he proceeded. "Robin worshipped him when she was a +mere baby. They were very beautiful together on the night of the dance. +She fainted on the stairway after hearing of his death. She had been +crawling up to hide herself in her room, poor child! It is one of the +tragedies. Perhaps you and I together--" + +The Duchess was seeing again the two who had come forth shining from the +conservatory. She continued to see them as Lord Coombe went on speaking, +telling her what Dr. Redcliff had told him. + + * * * * * + +On her part Robin scarcely understood anything which was happening +because nothing seemed to matter. On the morning when the Duchess told +her that Dr. Redcliff wished to see her alone that fact mattered as +little as the rest. She was indifferently conscious that the Duchess +regarded her in an anxious kind way, but if she had been unkind instead +of kind that would have meant nothing. There was only room for one thing +in the world. She wondered sometimes if she were really dead--as Donal +was--and did not know she was so. Perhaps after people died they walked +about as she did and did not understand that others could not see them +and they were not alive. But if she were dead she would surely see +Donal. + +Before she went to Dr. Redcliff the Duchess took her hand and held it +closely in both her own. She looked at her with a curious sort of +pitifulness--as if she were sorry. + +"My poor child," she said. "Whatsoever he tells you don't be frightened. +Don't think you are without friends. I will take care of you." + +"Thank you," she said. "I don't think anything would frighten me. +Nothing seems frightening--now." After which she went into the room +where Dr. Redcliff was waiting for her. + + * * * * * + +The Duchess sat alone and thought deeply. What she thought of chiefly +was the Head of the House of Coombe. She had always known that more than +probably his attitude towards a circumstance of this sort would not even +remotely approach in likeness that of other people. His point of view +would detach itself from ordinary theories of moralities and +immoralities. He would see with singular clearness all sides of the +incident. He would not be indignant, or annoyed or embarrassed. He had +had an interest in Robin as a creature representing peculiar loveliness +and undefended potentialities. Sometimes she had felt that this had even +verged on a tenderness of which he was himself remotely, if at all, +conscious. Concerning the boy Donal she had realised that he felt +something stronger and deeper than any words of his own had at any time +expressed. He had believed fine things of him and had watched him +silently. He had wished he had been his own flesh and blood. Perhaps he +had always felt a longing for a son who might have been his companion as +well as his successor. Who knew whether a thwarted paternal instinct +might not now be giving him such thinking to do as he might have done if +Donal Muir had been the son of his body--dead on the battlefield but +leaving behind him something to be gravely considered? What would a man +think--what would a man _do_ under such circumstances? + +"One might imagine what some men would do--but it would depend entirely +upon the type," she thought. "What he will do will be different. It +might seem cold; it might be merely judicial--but it might be +surprising." + +She was quite haunted by the haggard look of his face as he had +exclaimed: + +"I wish to God I had known him better! I wish to God I had talked to him +more!" + +What he had done this morning was to go to Mersham Wood to see Mrs. +Bennett. There were things it might be possible to learn by amiable and +carefully considered expression of interest in her loss and loneliness. +Concerning such things as she did not already know she would learn +nothing from his conversation, but concerning such things as she had +become aware of he would learn everything without alarming her. + +"If those unhappy children met at her cottage and wandered about in +Mersham Wood together the tragedy is understandable." + +The Duchess' thinking ended pityingly because just at this time it was +that Robin opened the door and stood looking at her. + +It seemed as though Dr. Redcliff must have talked to her for a long +time. But she had on her small hat and coat and what the Duchess seemed +chiefly to see was the wide darkness of her eyes set in a face suddenly +pinched, small and snow white. She looked like a starved baby. + +"Please," she said with her hands clasped against her chest, +"please--may I go to Mersham Wood?" + +"To--Mersham Wood," the Duchess felt aghast--and then suddenly a flood +of thought rushed upon her. + +"It is not very far," the little gasping voice uttered. "I must go, +please! Oh! I must! Just--to Mersham Wood!" + +Something almost uncontrollable rose in the Duchess' throat. + +"Child," she said. "Come here!" + +Robin went to her--oh, poor little soul!--in utter obedience. As she +drew close to her she went down upon her knees holding up her hands like +a little nun at prayer. + +"_Please_ let me go," she said again. "Only to Mersham Wood." + +"Stay here, my poor child and talk to me," the Duchess said. "The time +has come when you must talk to some one." + +"When I come back--I will try. I--I want to ask--the Wood," said Robin. +She caught at a fold of the Duchess' dress and went on rapidly. + +"It is not far. Dr. Redcliff said I might go. Mrs. Bennett is there. She +loves me." + +"Are you going to talk to Mrs. Bennett?" + +"No! No! No! No! Not to any one in the world." + +Hapless young creatures in her plight must always be touching, but her +touchingness was indescribable--almost unendurable to the ripe aged +woman of the world who watched and heard her. It was as if she knew +nothing of the meaning of things--as if some little spirit had been torn +from heaven and flung down upon the dark earth. One felt that one must +weep aloud over the exquisite incomprehensible remoteness of her. And it +was so awfully plain that there was some tragic connection with the Wood +and that her whole soul cried out to it. And she would not speak to any +one in the world. Such things had been known. Was the child's brain +wavering? Why not? All the world was mad was the older woman's thought, +and she herself after all the years, had for this moment no sense of +balance and felt as if all old reasons for things had been swept away. + +"If you will come back," she said. "I will let you go." + +After the poor child had gone there formulated itself in her mind the +thought that if Lord Coombe and Mrs. Bennett met her together some +clarity might be reached. But then again she said to herself, "Oh why, +after all, should she be asked questions? What can it matter to the rest +of the woeful world if she hides it forever in her heart?" + +And she sat with drooped head knowing that she was tired of living +because some things were so helpless. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +The Wood was gradually growing darker. It had been almost brilliant +during a part of the afternoon because the bareness of the branches let +in the wintry sun. There were no leaves to keep it out and there had +been a rare, chill blue sky. All seemed cold blue sky where it was not +brown or sodden yellow fern and moss. The trunks of the trees looked +stark and the tall, slender white stems of the birches stood out here +and there among the darker growth like ghosts who were sentinels. It was +always a silent place and now its stillness seemed even added to by the +one sound which broke it--the sound of sobbing--sobbing--sobbing. + +It had been going on for some time. There had stolen through the narrow +trodden pathway a dark slight figure and this had dropped upon the +ground under a large tree which was one of a group whose branches had +made a few months ago a canopy of green where birds had built nests and +where one nightingale had sung night after night to the moon. + +Later--Robin had said to herself--she would go to the cottage, and she +would sit upon the hearth and lay her head on Mrs. Bennett's knee and +they would cling together and sob and talk of the battlefields and the +boys lying dead there. But she had no thought of saying any other thing +to her, because there was nothing left to say. She had said nothing to +Dr. Redcliff; she had only sat listening to him and feeling her eyes +widening as she tried to follow and understand what he was saying in +such a grave, low-toned cautious way--as if he himself were almost +afraid as he went on. What he said would once have been strange and +wonderful, but now it was not, because wonder had gone out of the +world. She only seemed to sit stunned before the feeling that now the +dream was not a sacred secret any longer and there grew within her, as +she heard, a wild longing to fly to the Wood as if it were a living +human thing who would hear her and understand--as if it would be like +arms enclosing her. Something would be there listening and she could +talk to it and ask it what to do. + +She had spoken to it as she staggered down the path--she had cried out +to it with wild broken words, and then when she heard nothing she had +fallen down upon the earth and the sobbing--sobbing--had begun. + +"Donal!" she said. "Donal!" And again, "Donal!" over and over. But +nothing answered, for even that which had been Donal--with the heavenly +laugh and the blue in his gay eyes and the fine, long smooth hands--had +been blown to fragments in a field somewhere--and there was nothing +anywhere. + + * * * * * + +She had heard no footsteps and she was sobbing still when a voice spoke +at her side--the voice of some one standing near. + +"It is Donal you want, poor child--no one else," it said. + +That it should be this voice--Lord Coombe's! And that amazing as it was +to hear it, she was not amazed and did not care! Her sobbing ceased so +far as sobbing can cease on full flow. She lay still but for low +shuddering breaths. + +"I have come because it is Donal," he said. "You told me once that you +had always hated me. Hatred is useless now. Don't feel it." + +But she did not answer. + +"You probably will not believe anything I say. Well I must speak to you +whether you believe me or not." + +She lay still and he himself was silent. His voice seemed to be a sudden +thing when he spoke. + +"I loved him too. I found it out the morning I saw him march away." + +He had seen him! Since she had looked at his beautiful face this man had +looked at it! + +"You!" She sat up on the earth and gazed, swaying. So he knew he could +go on. + +"I wanted a son. I once lay on the moss in a wood and sobbed as you have +sobbed. _She_ was killed too." + +But Robin was thinking only of Donal. + +"What--was his face like? Did you--see him near?" + +"Quite near. I stood on the street. I followed. He did not see me. He +saw nothing." + +The sobbing broke forth again. + +"Did--did his eyes look as if he had been crying? He did cry--he did!" + +The Head of the House of Coombe showed no muscular facial sign of +emotion and stood stiffly still. But what was this which leaped scalding +to his glazed eyes and felt hot? + +"Yes," he answered huskily. "I saw--even as he marched past--that his +eyes were heavy and had circles round them. There were other eyes like +his--some were boys' eyes and some were the eyes of men. They held their +heads up--but they had all said 'Good-bye'--as he had." + +The Wood echoed to a sound which was a heart-wrung wail and she dropped +forward on the moss again and lay there. + +"He said, 'Oh, let us cry--together--together! Oh little--lovely love'!" + +She who would have borne torment rather than betray the secret of the +dream, now that it could no longer be a secret lay reft of all but +memories and the wild longing to hold to her breast some shred which was +her own. He let her wail, but when her wailing ceased helplessly he bent +over her. + +"Listen to me," he said. "If Donal were here he would tell you to +listen. You are a child. You are too young to know what has come upon +you--both." + +She did not speak. + +"You were both too young--and you were driven by fate. If he had been +more than a boy--and if he had not been in a frenzy--he would have +remembered. He would have thought--" + +Yes--yes! She knew how young! But oh, what mattered youth--or +thought--or remembering! Her small hand beat in soft impatience on the +ground. + +He was--strangely--on one knee beside her, his head bent close, and in +his voice there was a new strong insistence--as if he would not let her +alone-- Oh! Donal! Donal! + +"He would have remembered--that he might leave a child!" + +His voice was almost hard. She did not know that in his mind was a +memory which now in secret broke him--a memory of a belief which was a +thing he had held as a gift--a certain faith in a clear young highness +and strength of body and soul in this one scion of his house, which even +in youth's madness would have _remembered_. If the lad had been his own +son he might have felt something of the same pang. + +His words brought back what she had heard Redcliff say to her earlier in +the day--the thing which had only struck her again to the earth. + +"It--will have--no father," she shuddered. "There is not even a grave." + +He put his hand on her shoulder--he even tried to force her to lift her +head. + +"It _must_ have a father," he said, harshly. "Look at me. It _must_." + +Stupefied and lost to all things as she was, she heard something in his +harshness she could not understand and was startled by. Her small +starved face stared at him piteously. There was no one but herself left +in the world. + +"There is no time--" he broke forth. + +"He said so too," she cried out. "There was no time!" + +"But he should have remembered," the harsh voice revealed more than he +knew. "He could have given his child all that life holds that men call +happiness. How could even a lad forget! He loved you--you loved him. If +he had married you--" + +He stopped in the midst of the words. The little starved face stared at +him with a kind of awfulness of woe. She spoke as if she scarcely knew +the words she uttered, and not, he saw, in the least as if she were +defending herself--or as if she cared whether he believed her or not--or +as if it mattered. + +"Did you--think we were--not married?" the words dragged out. + +Something turned over in his side. He had heard it said that hearts did +such things. It turned--because she did not care. She knew what love and +death were--what they _were_--not merely what they were called--and life +and shame and loss meant nothing. + +"Do you know what you are saying?" he heard the harshness of his voice +break. "For God's sake, child, let me hear the truth." + +She did not even care then and only put her childish elbows on her knees +and her face in her hands and wept and wept. + +"There was--no time," she said. "Every day he said it. He knew--he +_knew_. Before he was killed he wanted _something_ that was his own. It +was our secret. I wanted to keep it his secret till I died." + +"Where," he spoke low and tensely, "were you married?" + +"I do not know. It was a little house in a poor crowded street. Donal +took me. Suddenly we were frightened because we thought he was to go +away in three days. A young chaplain who was going away too was his +friend. He had just been married himself. He did it because he was sorry +for us. There was no time. His wife lent me a ring. They were young too +and they were sorry." + +"What was the man's name?" + +"I can't remember. I was trembling all the time. I knew nothing. That +was like a dream too. It was all a dream." + +"You do not remember?" he persisted. "You were married--and have no +proof." + +"We came away so quickly. Donal held me in his arm in the cab because I +trembled. Donal knew. Donal knew everything." + +He was a man who had lived through tragedy but that had been long ago. +Since then he had only known the things of the world. He had seen +struggles and tricks and paltry craftiness. He had known of women caught +in traps of folly and passion and weakness and had learned how terror +taught them to lie and shift and even show abnormal cleverness. Above +all he knew exactly what the world would say if a poor wretch of a girl +told a story like this of a youngster like Donal--when he was no longer +on earth to refute it. + +And yet if these wild things were true, here in a wintry wood she sat a +desolate and undefended thing--with but one thought. And in that which +was most remote in his being he was conscious that he was for the moment +relieved because even worldly wisdom was not strong enough to overcome +his desire to believe in a certain thing which was--that the boy would +have played fair even when his brain whirled and all his fierce youth +beset him. + +As he regarded her he saw that it would be difficult to reach her mind +which was so torn and stunned. But by some method he must reach it. + +"You must answer all the questions I ask," he said. "It is for Donal's +sake." + +She did not lift her face and made no protest. + +He began to ask such questions as a sane man would know must be answered +clearly and as he heard her reply to each he gradually reached the +realisation of what her empty-handed, naked helplessness confronted. +That he himself comprehended what no outsider would, was due to his +memories of heart-wrung hours, of days and nights when he too had been +unable to think quite sanely or to reason with a normal brain. Youth is +a remorseless master. He could see the tempest of it all--the hours of +heaven--and the glimpses of hell's self--on whose brink the two had +stood clinging breast to breast. With subtle carefulness he slowly +gleaned it all. He followed the rising of the tide which at first had +borne them along unquestioning. They had not even asked where they were +going because the way led through young paradise. Then terror had +awakened them. There had come to them the news of death day after +day--lads they knew and had seen laughing a few weeks before--Halwyn, +Meredith, Jack or Harry or Phil. A false rumour of a sudden order to the +Front and they had stood and gazed into each other's eyes in a fateful +hour. Robin did not know of the picture her disjointed, sobbed-forth +sentences and words made clear. Coombe could see the lad as he stood +before her in this very Wood and then went slowly down upon his knees +and kissed her small feet in the moss as he made his prayer. There had +been something rarely beautiful in the ecstasy of his tenderness--and +she had given herself as a flower gives itself to be gathered. She +seemed to have seen nothing, noted nothing, on the morning of the mad +marriage, but Donal, who held her trembling in his arms as they drove +through the crowded streets in the shabby neighbourhood she had never +seen before, to the house crowded between others all like itself. She +had actually not heard the young chaplain's name in her shyness and +tremor. He would scarcely have been an entity but for the one moving +fact that he himself had just hastily married a girl he adored and must +leave, and so sympathised and understood the stress of their hour. On +their way home they had been afraid of chance recognition and had tried +to shield themselves by sitting as far back as possible in the cab. + +"I could not think. I could not see. It was all frightening--and +unreal." + +She had not dreamed of asking questions. Donal had taken care of her and +tried to help her to be less afraid of seeing people who might recognise +her. She had tilted her hat over her face and worn a veil. She had gone +home to Eaton Square--and then in the afternoon to the cottage at +Mersham Wood. + +They had not written letters to each other. Robin had been afraid and +they had met almost every day. Once Lord Coombe thought himself on the +track of some clue when she touched vaguely on some paper Donal had +meant to send her and had perhaps forgotten in the haste and pressure of +the last few hours because his orders had been so sudden. But there was +no trace. There had been something he wished her to have. But if this +had meant that his brain had by chance cleared to sane reasoning and he +had, for a few moments touched earth and intended to send her some proof +which would be protection if she needed it--the moment had been too late +and, at the last, action had proved impossible. And Death had come so +soon. It was as though a tornado had swept him out of her arms and +dashed him broken to earth. And she was left with nothing because she +asked nothing--wanted nothing. + +The obviousness of this, when he had ended his questioning and exhausted +his resources, was a staggering thing. + +"Do you know," he said grimly, after it was all over, "--that no one +will believe you?" + +"Donal knew," she said. "There is no one--no one else." + +"You mean that there is no one whose belief or disbelief would affect +you?" + +The Wood was growing darker still and she had ceased crying and sat +still like a small ghost in the dim light. + +"There never _was_ any one but Donal, you know," she said. To all the +rest of the world she was as a creature utterly unawake and to a man who +was of the world and who had lived a long life in it the contemplation +of her was a strange and baffling thing. + +"You do not ask whether _I_ believe you?" he spoke quite low. + +The silence of the darkening wood was unearthly and her dropped word +scarcely stirred it. + +"No." She had never even thought of it. + +He himself was inwardly shaken by his own feeling. + +"I will believe you if--you will believe me," was what he said, a +singular sharp new desire impelling him. + +She merely lifted her face a little so that her eyes rested upon him. + +"Because of this tragic thing you must believe me. It will be necessary +that you should. What you have thought of me with regard to your mother +is not true. You believed it because the world did. Denial on my part +would merely have called forth laughter. Why not? When a man who has +money and power takes charge of a pretty, penniless woman and pays her +bills, the pose of Joseph or Galahad is not a good one for him. My +statement would no more have been believed than yours will be believed +if you can produce no proof. What you say is what any girl might say in +your dilemma, what I should have said would have been what any man might +have said. But--I believe you. Do you believe _me_?" + +She did not understand why suddenly--though languidly--she knew that he +was telling her a thing which was true. It was no longer of consequence +but she knew it. And if it was true all she had hated him for so long +had been founded on nothing. He had not been bad--he had only _looked_ +bad and that he could not help. But what did that matter, either? She +could not feel even sorry. + +"I will--try," she answered. + +It was no use as yet, he saw. What he was trying to deal with was in a +new Dimension. + +He held out his hands and helped her to her feet. + +"The Wood is growing very dark," he said. "We must go. I will take you +to Mrs. Bennett's and you can spend the night with her." + +The Wood was growing dark indeed. He was obliged to guide her through +the closeness of the undergrowth. They threaded their way along the +narrow path and the shadows seemed to close in behind them. Before they +reached the end which would have led them out into the open he put his +hand on her shoulder and held her back. + +"In this Wood--even now--there is Something which must be saved from +suffering. It is helpless--it is blameless. It is not you--it is not +Donal. God help it." + +He spoke steadily but strangely and his voice was so low that it was +almost a whisper--though it was not one. For the first time she felt +something stir in her stunned mind--as if thought were wakening--fear--a +vague quaking. Her wan small face began to wonder and in the dark +roundness of her eyes a question was to be seen like a drowned thing +slowly rising from the deeps of a pool. But she asked no question. She +only waited a few moments and let him look at her until she said at last +in a voice as near a whisper as his own. + +"I--will believe you." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +He was alone with the Duchess. The doors were closed, and the world shut +out by her own order. She leaned against the high back of her chair, +watching him intently as she listened. He walked slowly up and down the +room with long paces. He had been doing it for some time and he had told +her from beginning to end the singular story of what had happened when +he found Robin lying face downward on the moss in Mersham Wood. + +This is what he was saying in a low, steady voice. + +"She had not once thought of what most women would have thought of +before anything else. If I were speaking to another person than yourself +I should say that she was too ignorant of the world. To you I will say +that she is not merely a girl--she is the unearthly luckless embodiment +of the pure spirit of Love. She knew only worship and the rapt giving of +gifts. Her unearthliness made him forget earth himself. Folly and +madness of course! Incredible madness--it would seem to most people--a +decently intelligent lad losing his head wholly and not regaining his +senses until it was too late to act sanely. But perhaps not quite +incredible to you and me. There must have been days which seemed to +him--and lads like him--like the last hours of a condemned man. In the +midst of love and terror and the agony of farewells--what time was there +for sanity?" + +"You _believe_ her?" the Duchess said. + +"Yes," impersonally. "In spite of the world, the flesh and the devil. I +also know that no one else will. To most people her story will seem a +thing trumped up out of a fourth rate novel. The law will not listen to +it. You will--when you see her unawakened face." + +"I have seen it," was the Duchess' interpolation. "I saw it when she +went upon her knees and prayed that I would let her go to Mersham Wood. +There was something inexplicable in her remoteness from fear and shame. +She was only woe's self. I did not comprehend. I was merely a baffled +old woman of the world. Now I begin to see. I believe her as you do. The +world and the law will laugh at us because we have none of the accepted +reasons for our belief. But I believe her as you do--absurd as it will +seem to others." + +"Yes, it will seem absurd," Coombe said slowly pacing. "But here she +is--and here _we_ are!" + +"What do you see before us?" she asked of his deep thought. + +"I see a helpless girl in a dark plight. As far as knowledge of how to +defend herself goes, she is as powerless as a child fresh from a +nursery. She lives among people with observing eyes already noting the +change in her piteous face. Her place in your house makes her a centre +of attention. The observation of her beauty and happiness has been +good-natured so far. The observation will continue, but in time its +character will change. I see that before anything else." + +"It is the first thing to be considered," she answered. + +"The next--" she paused and thought seriously, "is her mother. Perhaps +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless has sharp eyes. She said to you something rather +vulgarly hideous about being glad her daughter was in my house and not +in hers." + +"Her last words to Robin were to warn her not to come to her for refuge +'if she got herself into a mess.' She is in what Mrs. Gareth-Lawless +would call 'a mess.'" + +"It is what a good many people would call it," the Duchess said. "And +she does not even know that her tragedy would express itself in a mere +vulgar colloquialism with a modern snigger in it. Presently, poor child, +when she awakens a little more she will begin to go about looking like a +little saint. Do you see that--as I do?" + +She thought he did and that he was moved by it though he did not say so. + +"I am thinking first of her mother. Mrs. Gareth-Lawless must see and +hear nothing. She is not a criminal or malignant creature, but her light +malice is capable of playing flimsily with any atrocity. She has not +brain enough to know that she can be atrocious. Robin can be protected +only if she is shut out of the whole affair. She was simply speaking the +truth when she warned the girl not to come to her in case of need." + +"For a little longer I can keep her here," the Duchess said. "As she +looks ill it will not be unnatural that the doctor should advise me to +send her away from London. It is not possible to remember anything long +in the life we live now. She will be forgotten in a week. That part of +it will be simple." + +"Yes," he answered. "Yes." + +He paced the length of the room twice--three times and said nothing. She +watched him as he walked and she knew he was going to say more. She also +wondered what curious thing it might be. She had said to herself that +what he said and did would be entirely detached from ordinary or archaic +views. Also she had guessed that it might be extraordinary--perhaps as +extraordinary as his long intimacy with Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. Was there a +possibility that he was going to express himself now? + +"But that is not all," he said at last and he ended his pondering walk +by coming nearer to her. He sat down and touched the newspapers lying on +the table. + +"You have been poring over these," he said, "and I have been doing the +same thing. I have also been talking to the people who know things and +to those who ought to know them but don't. Just now the news is worse +each day. In the midst of the roar and thunder of cataclysms to talk +about a mere girl 'in trouble' appears disproportionate. But because our +world seems crumbling to pieces about us she assumes proportions of her +own. I was born of the old obstinate passions of belief in certain +established things and in their way they have had their will of me. +Lately it has forced itself upon me that I am not as modern as I have +professed to be. The new life has gripped me, but the old has not let me +go. There are things I cannot bear to see lost forever without a +struggle." + +"Such as--" she said it very low. + +"I conceal things from myself," he answered, "but they rise and confront +me. There were days when we at least believed--quite obstinately--in a +number of things." + +"Sometimes quite heroically," she admitted. "'God Save the Queen' in its +long day had actual glow and passion. I have thrilled and glowed myself +at the shouting song of it." + +"Yes," he drew a little nearer to her and his cold face gained a slight +colour. "In those days when a son--or a grandson--was born to the head +of a house it was a serious and impressive affair." + +"Yes." And he knew she at once recalled her own son--and George in +Flanders. + +"It meant new generations, and generations counted for decent dignity as +well as power. A farmer would say with huge pride, 'Me and mine have +worked the place for four generations,' as he would say of the owner of +the land, 'Him and his have held it for six centuries.' Centuries and +generations are in danger of no longer inspiring special reverence. It +is the future and the things to be which count." + +"The things to be--yes," the Duchess said and knew that he was drawing +near the thing he had to say. + +"I suppose I was born a dogged sort of devil," he went on almost in a +monotone. "The fact did not manifest itself to me until I came to the +time when--all the rest of me dropped into a bottomless gulf. That +perhaps describes it. I found myself suddenly standing on the edge of +it. And youth, and future, and belief in the use of hoping and real +enjoyment of things dropped into the blackness and were gone while I +looked on. If I had not been born a dogged devil I should have blown my +brains out. If I had been born gentler or kinder or more patient I +should perhaps have lived it down and found there was something left. A +man's way of facing things depends upon the kind of thing he was born. I +went on living _without_--the rest of myself. I closed my mouth and not +only my mouth but my life--as far as other men and women were concerned. +When I found an interest stirring in me I shut another door--that was +all. Whatsoever went on did it behind a shut door." + +"But there were things which went on?" the Duchess gently suggested. + +"In a hidden way--yes. That is what I am coming to. When I first saw +Mrs. Gareth-Lawless sitting under her tree--" He suddenly stopped. "No," +harshly, "I need not put it into words to _you_." Then a pause as if for +breath. "She had a way of lifting her eyes as a very young angel +might--she had a quivering spirit of a smile--and soft, deep curled +corners to her mouth. You saw the same things in the old photograph you +bought. The likeness was--Oh! it was hellish that such a resemblance +could be! In less than half an hour after she spoke to me I had shut +another door. But I was obliged to go and _look_ at her again and again. +The resemblance drew me. By the time her husband died I knew her well +enough to be sure what would happen. Some man would pick her up and +throw her aside--and then some one else. She could have held nothing +long. She would have passed from one hand to another until she was +tossed into the gutter and swept away--quivering spirit of a smile and +all of it. I could not have shut any door on that. I prevented it--and +kept her clean--by shutting doors right and left. I have watched over +her. At times it has bored me frightfully. But after a year or +so--behind another door I had shut the child." + +"Robin? I had sometimes thought so," said the Duchess. + +"I did not know why exactly. It was not affection or attraction. It was +a sort of resentment of the beastly unfairness of things. The bottomless +gulf seemed to yawn in her path when she was nothing but a baby. +Everything was being tossed into it before she had taken a step. I began +to keep an eye on her and prevent things--or assist them. It was more +fury than benevolence, but it has gone on for years--behind the shut +door." + +"Are you quite sure you have been entirely free from all affection for +her?" The Duchess asked the question impersonally though with a degree +of interest. + +"I think so. I am less sure that I have the power to feel what is called +'affection' for any one. I think that I have felt something nearer it +for Donal--and for you--than for any one else. But when the child talked +to me in the wood I felt for the first time that I wished her to know +that my relation to her mother was not the reason for her hating me +which she had believed." + +"She shall be made to understand," said the Duchess. + +"She must," he said, "_because of the rest_." + +The last four words were, as it were, italicised. Now, she felt, she was +probably about to hear the chief thing he had been approaching. So she +waited attentively. + +"Behind a door has been shut another thing," he said and he endeavoured +to say it with his usual detached rigidity of calm, but did not wholly +succeed. "It is the outcome of the generations and the centuries at +present diminishing in value and dignity. The past having had its will +of me and the present and future having gripped me--if I had had a +son--" + +As if in a flash she saw as he lingered on the words that he was +speaking of a thing of which he had secretly thought often and much, +though he had allowed no human being to suspect it. She had not +suspected it herself. In a secretive, intense way he had passionately +desired a son. + +"If you had had a son--" she repeated. + +"He would have stood for both--the past and the future--at the +beginning of a New World," he ended. + +He said it with such deliberate meaning that the magnitude of his +possible significance caused her to draw a sudden breath. + +"Is it going to be a New World?" she said. + +"It cannot be the old one. I don't take it upon myself to describe the +kind of world it will be. That will depend upon the men and women who +build it. Those who were born during the last few years--those who are +about to be born now." + +Then she knew what he was thinking of. + +"Donal's child will be one of them," she said. + +"The Head of the House of Coombe--if there is a Head who starts +fair--ought to have quite a lot to say--and do. Howsoever black things +look," obstinately fierce, "England is not done for. At the worst no +real Englishman believes she can be. She _can't_! You know the old +saying, 'In all wars England loses battles, but she always wins one--the +last one.' She always will. Afterwards she must do her bit for the New +World." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +This then was it--the New World and the human creatures who were to +build it, the unborn as well as those now in their cradles or tottering +in their first step on the pathway leading to the place of building. Yet +he himself had no thought of there being any touch of heroic splendour +in his way of looking at it. He was not capable of drama. Behind his +shut doors of immovability and stiff coldness, behind his cynic habit of +treating all things with detached lightness, the generations and the +centuries had continued their work in spite of his modernity. His +British obstinacy would not relinquish the long past he and his had +seemed to _own_ in representing it. He had loved one woman, and one +only--with a love like a deep wound; he had longed for a son; he had +stubbornly undertaken to protect a creature he felt life had treated +unfairly. The shattering of the old world had stirred in him a powerful +interest in the future of the new one whose foundations were yet to be +laid. The combination of these things might lead to curious +developments. + +They sat and talked long and the developments were perhaps more unusual +than she had imagined they might be. + +"If I had been able to express the something which approached affection +which I felt for Donal, he would have found out that my limitations were +not deliberately evil proclivities," was one of the things he said. "One +day he would have ended by making a clean breast of it. He was afraid of +me. I suspect he was afraid of his mother--fond as they were of each +other. I should have taken the matter in hand and married the pair of +them at once--quietly if they preferred it, but safely and sanely. God +knows I should have comprehended their wish to keep a roaring world out +of their paradise. It _was_ paradise!" + +"How you believe her!" she exclaimed. + +"She is not a trivial thing, neither was he. If I did _not_ believe her +I should know that he _meant_ to marry her, even if fate played them +some ghastly trick and there was not time. Another girl's consciousness +of herself might have saved her, but she had no consciousness but his. +If--if a son is born he should be what his father would have been after +my death." + +"The Head of the House," the Duchess said. + +"It is a curious thing," he deliberated, "that now there remains no +possible head but what is left of myself--it ceases to seem the mere +pompous phrase one laughed at--the Head of the House of Coombe. Here I, +of all men, sit before you glaring into the empty future and demanding +one. There ought to have been more males in the family. Only four were +killed--and we are done for." + +"If you had seen them married before he went away--" she began. + +He rose to his feet as if involuntarily. He looked as she had never seen +him look before. + +"Allow me to make a fantastic confession to you," he said. "It will open +doors. If all were as the law foolishly demands it should be--if she +were safe in the ordinary way--absurdly incredible or not as the +statement may seem--I should now be at her feet." + +"At her feet!" she said slowly, because she felt herself facing actual +revelation. + +"Her child would be to me the child of the son who ought to have been +born to me a life time ago. God, how I have wanted him! Robin would seem +to be what another Madonna-like young creature might have been if she +had been my wife. She would not know that she was a little saint on an +altar. She would be the shrine of the past and the future. In my +inexpressive way I should be worshipping before her. That her possible +son would rescue the House of Coombe from extinction would have meant +much, but it would be a mere detail. Now you understand." + +Yes. She understood. Things she had never comprehended and had not +expected to comprehend explained themselves with comparative clearness. +He proceeded with a certain hard distinctness. + +"The thing which grips me most strongly is that this one--who is one of +those who have work before them--shall not be handicapped. He shall not +begin life manacled and shamed by illegitimacy. He shall begin it with +the background of all his father meant to give him. The law of England +will not believe in his claims unless they can be proven. She can prove +nothing. I can prove nothing for her. If she had been a little female +costermonger she would have demanded her 'marriage lines' and clung to +them fiercely. She would have known that to be able to flaunt them in +the face of argument was indispensable." + +"She probably did not know that there existed such documents," the +Duchess said. "Neither of the pair knew anything for the time but that +they were wild with love and were to be torn apart." + +"Therefore," he said with distinctness even clearer and harder, "she +must possess indisputable documentary evidence of marriage before the +child is born--as soon as possible." + +"Marriage!" she hesitated aghast. "But _who_ will--?" + +"I," he answered with absolute rigidity. "It will be difficult. It must +be secret. But if it can be done--when his time comes the child can look +his new world in the face. He will be the Head of the House of Coombe +when it most needs a strong fellow who has no cause to fear anything and +who holds money and power in his hands." + +"You propose to suggest that she shall marry _you_?" she put it to him. + +"Yes. It will be the devil's own job," he answered. "She has not begun +to think of the child yet--and she has abhorred me all her life. To her +the world means nothing. She does not know what it can do to her and she +would not care if she did. Donal was her world and he is gone. But you +and I know what she does not." + +"So this is what you have been thinking?" she said. It was indeed an +unarchaic point of view. But even as she heard him she realised that it +was the almost inevitable outcome--not only of what was at the moment +happening to the threatened and threatening world, but of his singularly +secretive past--of all the things he had hidden and also of all the +things he had professed not to hide but had baffled people with. + +"Since the morning Redcliff dropped his bomb I have not been able to +think of much else," he said. "It was a bomb, I own. Neither you nor I +had reason for a shadow of suspicion. My mind has a trick of dragging +back to me a memory of a village girl who was left as--as she is. She +said her lover had married her--but he went away and never came back. +The village she lived in was a few miles from Coombe Keep and she gave +birth to a boy. His childhood must have been a sort of hell. When other +boys had rows with him they used to shout 'Bastard' after him in the +street. He had a shifty, sickened look and when he died of measles at +seven years old no doubt he was glad of it. He used to run crying to his +wretched mother and hide his miserable head in her apron." + +"It sounds unendurable," the Duchess said sharply. + +"I can defy the world as she cannot," he said with dangerous calm. "I +can provide money for her. She may be hidden away. But only one thing +will save her child--Donal's child--from being a sort of outcast and +losing all he should possess--a quick and quiet marriage which will put +all doubt out of the question." + +"And you know perfectly well what the general opinion will be with +regard to yourself?" + +"Damned well. A debauched old degenerate marrying the daughter of his +mistress because her eighteen years attracts his vicious decrepitude. My +absolute indifference to that, may I say, can not easily be formulated. +_She_ shall be spared as much as possible. The thing can be kept secret +for years. She can live in entire seclusion. No one need be told until I +am dead--or until it is necessary for the boy's sake. By that time +perhaps changes in opinion will have taken place. But now--as is the cry +of the hour--there is no time. She said that Donal said it too." He +stood still for a few moments and looked at the floor. "But as I said," +he terminated, "it will be the devil's own job. When I first speak to +her about it--she will almost be driven mad." + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Robin had spent the night at the cottage and Mrs. Bennett had been very +good to her. They had sat by the fire together for a long time and had +talked of the dead boys on the battlefield, while Robin's head had +rested against the old fairy woman's knee and the shrivelled hand had +stroked and patted her tremulously. It had been nearing dawn when the +girl went to bed and at the last Mrs. Bennett had held on to her dress +and asked her a pleading question. + +"Isn't there anything you'd like me to do for you--anything on earth, +Miss, dear? Sometimes there's things an old woman can do that young ones +can't. If there was anything you'd like to tell me about--that I could +keep private--? It'd be as safe with me as if I was a dumb woman. And it +might just happen that--me being so old--I might be a help some way." +She was giving her her chance, as in the course of her long life she had +given it to other poor girls she loved less. One had to make ways and +open gates for them. + +But Robin only kissed her as lovingly as a child. + +"I don't know what is going to happen to me," she said. "I can't think +yet. I may want to ask you to let me come here--if--if I am frightened +and don't know what to do. I know you would let me come and--talk to +you--?" + +The old fairy woman almost clutched her in enfolding arms. Her answer +was a hoarse and trembling whisper. + +"You come to me, my poor pretty," she said. "You come to me day or +night--_whatsoever_. I'm not so old but what I can do anything--you want +done." + +The railroad journey back to London seemed unnaturally long because her +brain began to work when she found herself half blindly gazing at the +country swiftly flying past the carriage window. Perhaps the anxiousness +in Mrs. Bennett's face had wakened thought in connecting itself with +Lord Coombe's words and looks in the wood. + +When the door of the house in Eaton Square opened for her she was +conscious of shrinking from the sympathetic eyes of the war-substituted +woman-servant who was the one who had found her lying on the landing. +She knew that her face was white and that her eyelids were stained and +heavy and that the woman saw them and was sorry for her. + +The mountain climb of the stairs seemed long and steep but she reached +her room at last and took off her hat and coat and put on her house +dress. She did it automatically as if she were going downstairs to her +work, as though there had been no break in the order of her living. + +But as she was fastening the little hooks and buttons her stunned brain +went on with the thought to which it had begun to awaken in the train. +Since the hour when she had fallen unconscious on the landing she had +not seemed to think at all. She had only _felt_ things which had nothing +to do with the real world. + +There was a fire in the grate and when the last button was fastened she +sat down on a seat before it and looked into the redness of the coals, +her hands loosely clasped on her knee. She sat there for several minutes +and then she turned her head and looked slowly round the room. She did +it because she was impelled by a sense of its emptiness--by the fact +that she was quite alone in it. There was only herself--only Robin in +it. + +That was her first feeling--the aloneness--and then she thought of +something else. She seemed to feel again the hand of Lord Coombe on her +shoulder when he held her back in the darkened wood and she could hear +his almost whispered words. + +"In this Wood--even now--there is Something which must be saved from +suffering. It is helpless--it is blameless. It is not you--it is not +Donal--God help it." + +Then she was not alone--even as she sat in the emptiness of the room. +She put up her hands and covered her face with them. + +"What--will happen?" she murmured. But she did not cry. + +The deadliness of the blow which had stupefied her still left her barely +conscious of earthly significances. But something of the dark mistiness +was beginning to lift slowly and reveal to her vague shadows and shapes, +as it were. If no one would believe that she was married to Donal, then +people would think that she had been the kind of girl who is sent away +from decent houses, if she is a servant, and cut off in awful disgrace +from her family and never spoken to again, if she belongs to the upper +classes. Books and Benevolent Societies speak of her as "fallen" and +"lost." Her vision of such things was at once vague and primitive. It +took the form of pathetic fictional figures or memories of some hushed +rumour heard by mere chance, rather than of anything more realistic. She +dropped her hands upon her lap and looked at the fire again. + +"Now I shall be like that," she said listlessly. "And it does not +matter. Donal knew. And I do not care--I do not care." + +"The Duchess will send me away," she whispered next. "Perhaps she will +send me away to-day. Where shall I go!" The hands on her lap began to +tremble and she suddenly felt cold in spite of the fire. The sound of a +knock on the door made her start to her feet. The woman who had looked +sorry for her when she came in had brought a message. + +"Her grace wishes to see you, Miss," she said. + +"Thank you," Robin answered. + +After the servant had gone away she stood still a moment or so. + +"Perhaps she is going to tell me now," she said to the empty room. + + * * * * * + +Two aspects of her face rose before the Duchess as the girl entered the +room where she waited for her with Lord Coombe. One was that which had +met her glance when Mademoiselle Valle had brought her charge on her +first visit. She recalled her impression of the childlikeness which +seemed all the dark dew of appealing eyes, which were like a young doe's +or a bird's rather than a girl's. The other was the star-like radiance +of joy which had swept down the ballroom in Donal's arms with dancing +whirls and swayings and pretty swoops. About them had laughed and +swirled the boys now lying dead under the heavy earth of Flemish fields. +And Donal--! + +This face looked small and almost thin and younger than ever. The eyes +were like those of a doe who was lost and frightened--as if it heard +quite near it the baying of hounds, but knew it could not get away. + +She hesitated a moment at the door. + +"Come here, my dear," the Duchess said. + +Lord Coombe stood by a chair he had evidently placed for her, but she +did not sit down when she reached it. She hesitated again and looked +from one to the other. + +"Did you send for me to tell me I must go away?" she said. + +"What do you mean, child?" said the Duchess. + +"Sit down," Lord Coombe said and spoke in an undertone rapidly. "She +thinks you mean to turn her out of the house as if she were a +kitchen-maid." + +Robin sat down with her listless small hands clasped in her lap. + +"Nothing matters at all," she said, "but I don't know what to do." + +"There is a great deal to do," the Duchess said to her and she did not +speak as if she were angry. Her expression was not an angry one. She +looked as if she were wondering at something and the wondering was +almost tender. + +"We know what to do. But it must be done without delay," said Lord +Coombe and his voice reminded her of Mersham Wood. + +"Come nearer to me. Come quite close. I want--" the Duchess did not +explain what she wanted but she pointed to a small square ottoman which +would place Robin almost at her knee. Her own early training had been of +the statelier Victorian type and it was not easy for her to deal freely +with outward expression of emotion. And here emotion sprang at her +throat, so to speak, as she watched this childish thing with the +frightened doe's eyes. The girl had been an inmate of her house for +months; she had been kind to her and had become fond of her, but they +had never reached even the borders of intimacy. + +And yet emotion had seized upon her and they were in the midst of +strange and powerful drama. + +Robin did as she was told. It struck the Duchess that she always did as +she was told and she spoke to her hoping that her voice was not +ungentle. + +"Don't look at me as if you were afraid. We are going to take care of +you," she said. + +But the doe's eyes were still great with hopeless fearfulness. + +"Lord Coombe said--that no one would believe me," Robin faltered. "He +thought I was not married to Donal. But I was--I was. I _wanted_ to be +married to him. I wanted to do everything he wanted me to do. We loved +each other so much. And we were afraid every one would be angry. And so +many were killed every day--and before he was killed--Oh!" with a sharp +little cry, "I am glad--I am glad! Whatever happens to me I am _glad_ I +was married to him before he was killed!" + +"You poor children!" broke from the Duchess. "You poor--poor mad young +things!" and she put an arm about Robin because the barrier built by +lack of intimacy was wholly overthrown. + +Robin trembled all over and looked up in her face. + +"I may begin to cry," she quavered. "I do not want to trouble you by +beginning to cry. I must not." + +"Cry if you want to cry," the Duchess answered. + +"It will be better," said Lord Coombe, "if you can keep calm. It is +necessary that you should be calm enough to think--and understand. Will +you try? It is for Donal's sake." + +"I will try," she answered, but her amazed eyes still yearningly +wondered at the Duchess. Her arm had felt almost like Dowie's. + +"Which of us shall begin to explain to her?" the Duchess questioned. + +"Will you? It may be better." + +They were going to take care of her. She was not to be turned into the +street--though perhaps if she were turned into the street without money +she would die somewhere--and that would not matter because she would be +thankful. + +The Duchess took one of her hands and held it on her knee. She looked +kind still but she was grave. + +"Do not be frightened when I tell you that most people will _not_ +believe what you say about your marriage," she said. "That is because it +is too much like the stories other girls have told when they were in +trouble. It is an easy story to tell when a man is dead. And in Donal's +case so much is involved that the law would demand proofs which could +not be denied. Donal not only owned the estate of Braemarnie, but he +would have been the next Marquis of Coombe. You have not remembered this +and--" more slowly and with a certain watchful care--"you have been too +unhappy and ill--you have not had time to realise that if Donal has a +son--" + +She heard Robin's caught breath. + +"What his father would have inherited he would inherit also. Braemarnie +would be his and in his turn he would be the Marquis of Coombe. It is +because of these important things that it would be said that it would be +immensely to your interest to insist that you were married to Donal Muir +and the law would not allow of any shade of doubt." + +"People would think I wanted the money and the castles--for myself?" +Robin said blankly. + +"They would think that if you were a dishonest woman--you wanted all you +could get. Even if you were not actually dishonest they would see you +would want it for your son. You might think it ought to be his--whether +his father had married you or not. Most women love their children." + +Robin sat very still. The stunned brain was slowly working for itself. + +"A child whose mother seems bad--is very lonely," she said. + +"It is not likely to have many friends." + +"It seems to belong to no one. It _must_ be unhappy. If--Donal's mother +had not been married--even he would have been unhappy." + +No one made any reply. + +"If he had been poor it would have made it even worse. If he had +belonged to nobody and had been poor too--! How could he have borne it!" + +Lord Coombe took the matter up gently, as it were removing it from the +Duchess' hands. + +"But he had everything he wished for from his birth," he said. "He was +always happy. I like to remember the look in his eyes. Thank God for +it!" + +"That beautiful look!" she cried. "That beautiful laughing look--as if +all the world were joyful!" + +"Thank God for it," Coombe said again. "I once knew a wretched village +boy who had no legal father though his mother swore she had been +married. His eyes looked like a hunted ferret's. It was through being +shamed and flouted and bullied. The village lads used to shout 'Bastard' +after him." + +It was then that the baying of the hounds suddenly seemed at hand. The +large eyes quailed before the stark emptiness of the space they gazed +into. + +"What shall I do--what shall I do?" Robin said and having said it she +did not know that she turned to Lord Coombe. + +"You must try to do what we tell you to do--even if you do not wish to +do it," he said. "It shall be made as little difficult for you as is +possible." + +The expression of the Duchess as she looked on and heard was a changing +one because her mind included so many aspects of the singular situation. +She had thought it not unlikely that he would do something unusual. +Could anything much more unusual have been provided than that a man, who +had absolute splendour of rank and wealth to offer, should for strange +reasons of his own use the tact of courts and the fine astuteness of +diplomatists in preparing the way to offer marriage to a penniless, +friendless and disgraced young "companion" in what is known as +"trouble"? It was because he was himself that he understood what he was +dealing with--that splendour and safety would hold no lure, that +protection from disgrace counted as nothing, that only one thing had +existence and meaning for her. And even as this passed through her mind, +Robin's answer repeated it. + +"I will do it whether it is difficult or not," she said, "but--" she +actually got up from her ottoman with a quiet soft movement and stood +before them--not a defiant young figure, only simple and elementally +sweet-- "I am not ashamed," she said. "I am not ashamed and _I_ do not +matter at all." + +There was that instant written upon Coombe's face--so far at least as +his old friend was concerned--his response to the significance of this. +It was the elemental thing which that which moved him required; it was +what the generations and centuries of the house of Coombe required--a +primitive creature unashamed and with no cowardice or weak vanity +lurking in its being. The Duchess recognised it in the brief moment of +almost breathless silence which followed. + +"You are very splendid, child," he said after it, "though you are not at +all conscious of it." + +"Sit down again." The Duchess put out a hand which drew Robin still +nearer to her. "Explain to her now," she said. + +Robin's light soft body rested against her when it obeyed. It responded +to more than the mere touch of her hand; its yielding was to something +which promised kindness and even comfort--that something which Dowie and +Mademoiselle had given in those days which now seemed to have belonged +to another world. But though she leaned against the Duchess' knee she +still lifted her eyes to Lord Coombe. + +"This is what I must ask you to listen to," he said. "We believe what +you have told us but we know that no one else will--without legal proof. +We also know that some form may have been neglected because all was done +in haste and ignorance of formalities. You can give no clue--the +ordinary methods of investigation are in confusion as the whole country +is. This is what remains for us to face. _You_ are not ashamed, but if +you cannot prove legal marriage Donal's son will know bitter +humiliation; he will be robbed of all he should possess--his life will +be ruined. Do you understand?" + +"Yes," she answered without moving her eyes from his face. She seemed to +him again as he stood before her in the upper room of Lady Etynge's +house when, in his clear aloof voice, he had told her that he had come +to save her. He had saved her then, but now it was not she who needed +saving. + +"There is only one man who can give Donal's child what his father would +have given him," he went on. + +"Who is he?" she asked. + +"I am the man," he answered, and he stood quite still. + +"How--can you do it?" she asked again. + +"I can marry you," his clear, aloof voice replied. + +"You!--You!--You!" she only breathed it out--but it was a cry. + +Then he held up his hand as if to calm her. + +"I told you in the wood that hatred was useless now and that your reason +for hating me had no foundation. I know how you will abhor what I +suggest. But it will not be as bad as it seems. You need not even endure +the ignominy of being known as the Marchioness of Coombe. But when I am +dead Donal's son will be my successor. It will not be held against him +that I married his beautiful young mother and chose to keep the matter a +secret. I have long been known as a peculiar person given to arranging +my affairs according to my own liking. The Head of the House of +Coombe"--with an ironic twitch of the mouth--"will have the law on his +side and will not be asked for explanations. A romantic story will add +to public interest in him. If your child is a daughter she will be +protected. She will not be lonely, she will have friends. She will have +all the chances of happiness a girl naturally longs for--all of them. +Because you are her mother." + +Robin rose and stood before him as involuntarily as she had risen +before, but now she looked different. Her hands were wrung together and +she was the blanched embodiment of terror. She remembered things +Fraeulein Hirsh had said. + +"I could not marry you--if I were to be killed because I didn't," was +all she could say. Because marriage had meant only Donal and the dream, +and being saved from the world this one man had represented to her girl +mind. + +"You say that because you have no doubt heard that it has been rumoured +that I have a depraved old man's fancy for you and that I have always +hoped to marry you. That is as false as the other story I denied. I am +not in love with you even in an antediluvian way. You would not marry me +for your own sake. That goes without saying. But I will repeat what I +said in the Wood when you told me you would believe me. There is +Something--not you--not Donal--to be saved from suffering." + +"That is true," the Duchess said and put out her hand as before. "And +there is something longer drawn out and more miserable than mere +dying--a dreary outcast sort of life. We know more about such things +than you do." + +"You may better comprehend my action if I add a purely selfish reason +for it," Coombe went on. "I will give you one. I do not wish to be the +last Marquis of Coombe." + +He took from the table a piece of paper. He had actually made notes upon +it. + +"Do not be alarmed by this formality," he said. "I wish to spare words. +If you consent to the performance of a private ceremony you will not be +required to see me again unless you yourself request it. I have a quiet +place in a remote part of Scotland where you can live with Dowie to take +care of you. Dowie can be trusted and will understand what I tell her. +You will be safe. You will be left alone. You will be known as a young +widow. There are young widows everywhere." + +Her eyes had not for a moment left his. By the time he had ended they +looked immense in her thin and white small face. Her old horror of him +had been founded on a false belief in things which had not existed, but +a feeling which has lasted almost a lifetime has formed for itself an +atmosphere from whose influence it is not easy to escape. And he stood +now before her looking as he had always looked when she had felt him to +be the finely finished embodiment of evil. But-- + +"You are--doing it--for Donal," she faltered. + +"You yourself would be doing it for Donal," he answered. + +"Yes. And--I do not matter." + +"Donal's wife and the mother of Donal's boy or girl matters very much," +he gave back to her. He did not alter the impassive aloofness of his +manner, knowing that it was better not to do so. An astute nerve +specialist might have used the same method with a patient. + +There was a moment or so of silence in which the immense eyes gazed +before her almost _through_ him--piteously. + +"I will do anything I am told to do," she said at last. After she had +said it she turned and looked at the Duchess. + +The Duchess held out both her hands. They were held so far apart that it +seemed almost as if they were her arms. Robin swept towards the broad +footstool but reaching it she pushed it aside and knelt down laying her +face upon the silken lap sobbing soft and low. + +"All the world is covered with dead--beautiful boys!" her sobbing said. +"All alone and dead--dead!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +No immediate change was made in her life during the days that followed. +She sat at her desk, writing letters, referring to notes and lists and +answering questions as sweetly and faithfully as she had always done +from the first. She tried to remember every detail and she also tried to +keep before her mind that she must not let people guess that she was +thinking of other things--or rather trying not to think of them. It was +as though she stood guard over a dark background of thought, of which +others must know nothing. It was a background which belonged to herself +and which would always be there. Sometimes when she lifted her eyes she +found the Duchess looking at her and then she realised that the Duchess +knew it was there too. + +She began to notice that almost everybody looked at her in a kindly +slightly troubled way. Very important matrons and busy excited girls who +ran in and out on errands had the same order of rather evasive glance. + +"You have no cough, my dear, have you?" more than one amiable grand lady +asked her. + +"No, thank you--none at all," Robin answered and she was nearly always +patted on the shoulder as her questioner left her. + +Kathryn sitting by her desk one morning, watching her as she wrote a +note, suddenly put her hand out and stopped her. + +"Let me look at your wrist, Robin," she said and she took it between her +fingers. + +"Oh! What a little wrist!" she exclaimed. "I--I am sure Grandmamma has +not seen it. Grandmamma--" aloud to the Duchess, "_Have_ you seen +Robin's wrist? It looks as if it would snap in two." + +There were only three or four people in the room and they were all +intimates and looked interested. + +"It is only that I am a little thin," said Robin. "Everybody is thinner +than usual. It is nothing." + +The Duchess' kind look somehow took in those about her in her answer. + +"You are too thin, my dear," she said. "I must tell you frankly, +Kathryn, that you will be called upon to take her place. I am going to +send her away into the wilds. The War only ceases for people who are +sent into wild places. Dr. Redcliff is quite fixed in that opinion. +People who need taking care of must be literally hidden away in corners +where war vibrations cannot reach them. He has sent Emily Clare away and +even her friends do not know where she is." + +Later in the day Lady Lothwell came and in the course of a few minutes +drew near to her mother and sat by her chair rather closely. She spoke +in a lowered voice. + +"I am so glad, mamma darling, that you are going to send poor little +Miss Lawless into retreat for a rest cure," she began. "It's so tactless +to continually chivy people about their health, but I own that I can +scarcely resist saying to the child every time I see her, 'Are you any +better today?' or, 'Have you any cough?' or, 'How is your appetite?' I +have not wanted to trouble you about her but the truth is we all find +ourselves talking her over. The point of her chin is growing actually +sharp. What is Mrs. Gareth-Lawless doing?" curtly. + +"Giving dinners and bridge parties to officers on leave. Robin never +sees her." + +"Of course the woman does not want her about. She is too lovely for +officers' bridge parties," rather sharply again. + +"Mrs. Gareth-Lawless is not the person one would naturally turn to for +sympathy in trouble. Illness would present itself to her mind as a sort +of outrage." The Duchess herself spoke in a low tone and her eyes +wandered for a moment or so to the corner where Robin sat among her +papers. + +"She is a sensitive child," she said, "and I have not wanted to alarm +her by telling her she must give up the work her heart is in. I have +seen for some time that she must have an entire holiday and that she +must leave London behind her utterly for a while. Dr. Redcliff knows of +the right remote sort of place for her. It is really quite settled. She +will do as I advise her. She is very obedient." + +"Mamma," murmured Lady Lothwell who was furtively regarding Robin +also--and it must be confessed with a dewy eye--"I suppose it is because +I have Kathryn--but I feel a sort of pull at my heart when I remember +how the little thing _bloomed_ only a few months ago! She was radiant +with life and joy and youngness. It's the contrast that almost frightens +one. Something has actually gone. Does Doctor Redcliff think--_Could_ +she be going to die? Somehow," with a tremulous breath, "one always +thinks of death now." + +"No! No!" the Duchess answered. "Dr. Redcliff says she is not in real +danger. Nourishment and relaxed strain and quiet will supply what she +needs. But I will ask you, Millicent, to explain to people. I am too +tired to answer questions. I realise that I have actually begun to love +the child and I don't want to hear amiable people continuously +suggesting the probability that she is in galloping consumption--and +proposing remedies." + +"Will she go soon?" Lady Lothwell asked. + +"As soon as Dr. Redcliff has decided between two heavenly little +places--one in Scotland and one in Wales. Perhaps next week or a week +later. Things must be prepared for her comfort." + +Lady Lothwell went home and talked a little to Kathryn who listened with +sympathetic intelligence. + +"It would have been better not to have noticed her poor little wrists," +she said. "Years ago I believe that telling people that they looked ill +and asking anxiously about their symptoms was regarded as a form of +affection and politeness, but it isn't done at all now." + +"I know, mamma!" Kathryn returned remorsefully. "But somehow there was +something so pathetic in her little thin hand writing so fast--and the +way her eyelashes lay on a sort of hollow of shadow instead of a soft +cheek-- I took it in suddenly all at once-- And I almost burst out +crying without intending to do it. Oh, mamma!" throwing out her hand to +clutch her mother's, "Since--since George--! I seem to cry so suddenly! +Don't--don't you?" + +"Yes--yes!" as they slipped into each other's arms. "We all +do--everybody--everybody!" + +Their weeping was not loud but soft. Kathryn's girl voice had a low +violin-string wail in it and was infinitely touching in its innocent +love and pity. + +"It's because one feels as if it _couldn't_ be true--as if he _must_ be +somewhere! George--good nice George. So good looking and happy and silly +and dear! And we played and fought together when we were children. Oh! +To _kill_ George--George!" + +When they sat upright again with wet eyes and faces Kathryn added, + +"And he was only _one_! And that beautiful Donal Muir who danced with +Robin at Grandmamma's party! And people actually _stared_ at them, they +looked so happy and beautiful." She paused and thought a moment. "Do you +know, mamma, I couldn't help believing he would fall in love with her if +he saw her often--and I wondered what Lord Coombe would think. But he +never did see her again. And now--! You know what they said about--not +even _finding_ him!" + +"It is better that they did not meet again. If they had it would be easy +to understand why the poor girl looks so ill." + +"Yes, I'm glad for her that it isn't that. That would have been much +worse. Being sent away to quiet places to rest might have been no good." + +"But even as it is, mamma is more anxious I am sure than she likes to +own to herself. You and I must manage to convey to people that it is +better not even to verge on making fussy inquiries. Mamma has too many +burdens on her mind to be as calm as she used to be." + +It was an entirely uncomplicated situation. It became understood that +the Duchess had become much attached to her companion as a result of her +sweet faithfulness to her work. She and Dr. Redcliff had taken her in +charge and prepared for her comfort and well-being in the most complete +manner. A few months would probably end in a complete recovery. There +were really no special questions even for the curious to ask and no one +was curious. There was no time for curiosity. So Robin disappeared from +her place at the small desk in the corner of the Duchess' sitting room +and Kathryn took her place and used her pen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +In the front window of one of the row of little flat-faced brick houses +on a narrow street in Manchester, Dowie sat holding Henrietta's new baby +upon her lap. They were what is known as "weekly" houses, their rent +being paid by the week and they were very small. There was a parlour +about the size of a compartment in a workbox, there was a still smaller +room behind it which was called a dining room and there was a diminutive +kitchen in which all the meals were eaten unless there was "company to +tea" which in these days was almost unknown. Dowie had felt it very +small when she first came to it from the fine spaces and heights of the +house in Eaton Square and found it seemingly full of very small children +and a hysterically weeping girl awaiting the impending arrival of one +who would be smaller than the rest. + +"You'll never stay here," said Henrietta, crying and clutching the +untidy half-buttoned front of her blouse. "You come straight from +duchesses and grandeur and you don't know how people like us live. How +can you stand us and our dirt, Aunt Sarah Ann?" + +"There needn't be dirt, Henrietta, my girl," said Dowie with quite +uncritical courage. "There wouldn't be if you were yourself, poor lass. +I'm not a duchess, you know. I've only been a respectable servant. And +I'm going to see you through your trouble." + +Her sober, kindly capableness evolved from the slovenly little house and +the untended children, from the dusty rooms and neglected kitchen the +kind of order and neatness which had been plain to see in Robin's more +fortune-favoured apartment. The children became as fresh and neat as +Robin's nursery self. They wore clean pinafores and began to behave +tidily at table. + +"I don't know how you do it, Aunt Sarah Ann," sighed Henrietta. But she +washed her blouse and put buttons on it. + +"It's just seeing things and picking up and giving a touch here and +there," said Dowie. She bought little comforts almost every day and +Henrietta was cheered by cups of hot tea in the afternoon and found +herself helping to prepare decent meals and sitting down to them with +appetite before a clean tablecloth. She began to look better and +recovered her pleasure in sitting at the front window to watch the +people passing by and notice how many new black dresses and bonnets went +to church each Sunday. + +When the new baby was born there was neither turmoil nor terror. + +"Somehow it was different from the other times. It seemed sort of +natural," Henrietta said. "And it's so quiet to lie like this in a +comfortable clean bed, with everything in its place and nothing upset in +the room. And a bright bit of fire in the grate--and a tidy, swept-up +hearth--and the baby breathing so soft in his flannels." + +She was a pretty thing and quite unfit to take care of herself even if +she had had no children. Dowie knew that she was not beset by +sentimental views of life and that all she wanted was a warm and +comfortable corner to settle down into. Some masculine creature would be +sure to begin to want her very soon. It was only to be hoped that youth +and flightiness would not descend upon her--though three children might +be supposed to form a barrier. But she had a girlish figure and her hair +was reddish gold and curly and her full and not too small mouth was red +and curly also. The first time she went to church in her little widow's +bonnet with the reddish gold showing itself under the pathetic little +white crepe border, she was looked at a good deal. Especially was she +looked at by an extremely respectable middle-aged widower who had been a +friend of her dead husband's. His wife had been dead six years, he had a +comfortable house and a comfortable shop which had thriven greatly +through a connection with army supplies. + +He came to see Henrietta and he had the good sense to treat Dowie as if +she were her mother. He explained himself and his circumstances to her +and his previous friendship for her nephew. He asked Dowie if she +objected to his coming to see her niece and bringing toys to the +children. + +"I'm fond of young ones. I wanted 'em myself. I never had any," he said +bluntly. "There's plenty of room in my house. It's a cheerful place with +good solid furniture in it from top to bottom. There's one room we used +to call 'the Nursery' sometimes just for a joke--not often. I choked up +one day when I said it and Mary Jane burst out crying. I could do with +six." + +He was stout about the waist but his small blue eyes sparkled in his red +face and Henrietta's slimness unromantically but practically approved of +him. + +One evening Dowie came into the little parlour to find her sitting upon +his knee and he restrained her when she tried to rise hastily. + +"Don't get up, Hetty," he said. "Your Aunt Sarah Ann'll understand. +We've had a talk and she's a sensible woman. She says she'll marry me, +Mrs. Dowson--as soon as it's right and proper." + +"Yes, we've had a talk," Dowie replied in her nice steady voice. "He'll +be a good husband to you, Henrietta--kind to the children." + +"I'd be kind to them even if she wouldn't marry me," the stout lover +answered. "I want 'em. I've told myself sometimes that I ought to have +been the mother of six--not the father but the mother. And I'm not +joking." + +"I don't believe you are, Mr. Jenkinson," said Dowie. + + * * * * * + +As she sat before the window in the scrap of a parlour and held the +sleeping new baby on her comfortable lap, she was thinking of this and +feeling glad that poor Jem's widow and children were so well provided +for. It would be highly respectable and proper. The ardour of Mr. +Jenkinson would not interfere with his waiting until Henrietta's weeds +could be decorously laid aside and then the family would be joyfully +established in his well-furnished and decent house. During his probation +he would visit Henrietta and bring presents to the children and +unostentatiously protect them all and "do" for them. + +"They won't really need me now that Henrietta's well and cheerful and +has got some one to make much of her and look after her," Dowie +reflected, trotting the baby gently. "I can't help believing her grace +would take me on again if I wrote and asked her. And I should be near +Miss Robin, thank God. It seems a long time since--" + +She suddenly leaned forward and looked up the narrow street where the +wind was blowing the dust about and whirling some scraps of paper. She +watched a moment and then lifted the baby and stood up so that she +might make more sure of the identity of a tall gentleman she saw +approaching. She only looked at him for a few seconds and then she left +the parlour quickly and went to the back room where she had been aware +of Mr. Jenkinson's voice rumbling amiably along as a background to her +thoughts. + +"Henrietta," she said, "his lordship's coming down the street and he's +coming here. I'm afraid something's happened to Miss Robin or her grace. +Perhaps I'm needed at Eaton Square. Please take the baby." + +"Give him to me," said Jenkinson and it was he who took him with quite +an experienced air. + +Henrietta was agitated. + +"Oh, my goodness! Aunt Sarah Ann! I feel all shaky. I never saw a +lord--and he's a marquis, isn't it? I shan't know what to do." + +"You won't have to do anything," answered Dowie. "He'll only say what +he's come to say and go away." + +She went out of the room as quickly as she had come into it because she +heard the sound of the cheap little door knocker. She was pale with +anxiety when she opened the door and Lord Coombe saw her troubled look +and understood its reason. + +"I am afraid I have rather alarmed you, Dowie," he said as he stepped +into the narrow lobby and shook hands with her. + +"It's not bad news of her grace or Miss Robin?" she faltered. + +"I have come to ask you to come back to London. Her grace is well but +Miss Robin needs you," was what he said. + +But Dowie knew the words did not tell her everything she was to hear. +She took him into the parlour for which she realised he was much too +tall. When she discreetly closed the door after he had entered, he said +seriously, "Thank you," before he seated himself. And she knew that this +meant that they must be undisturbed. + +"Will you sit down too," he said as she stood a moment waiting +respectfully. "We must talk together." + +She took a chair opposite to him and waited respectfully again. Yes, he +had something grave on his mind. He had come to tell her something--to +ask her questions perhaps--to require something of her. Her superiors +had often required things of her in the course of her experience--such +things as they would not have asked of a less sensible and reliable +woman. And she had always been ready. + +When he began to talk to her he spoke as he always did, in a tone which +sounded unemotional but held one's attention. But his face had changed +since she had last seen it. It had aged and there was something +different in the eyes. That was the War. Since the War began so many +faces had altered. + +During the years in the slice of a house he had never talked to her very +much. It was with Mademoiselle he had talked and his interviews with her +had not taken place in the nursery. How was it then that he seemed to +know her so well. Had Mademoiselle told him that she was a woman to be +trusted safely with any serious and intimate confidence--that being +given any grave secret to shield, she would guard it as silently and +discreetly as a great lady might guard such a thing if it were personal +to her own family--as her grace herself might guard it. That he knew +this fact without a shadow of doubt was subtly manifest in every word he +spoke, in each tone of his voice. There was strange dark trouble to +face--and keep secret--and he had come straight to her--Sarah Ann +Dowson--because he was sure of her and knew her ways. It was her _ways_ +he knew and understood--her steadiness and that she had the kind of +manners that keep a woman from talking about things and teach her how to +keep other people from being too familiar and asking questions. And he +knew what that kind of manners was built on--just decent faithfulness +and honest feeling. He didn't say it in so many words, of course, but as +Dowie listened it was exactly as if he said it in gentleman's language. + +England was full of strange and cruel tragedies. And they were not all +tragedies of battle and sudden death. Many of them were near enough to +seem even worse--if worse could be. Dowie had heard some hints of them +and had wondered what the world was coming to. As her visitor talked her +heart began to thump in her side. Whatsoever had happened was no secret +from her grace. And together she and his lordship were going to keep it +a secret from the world. Dowie could scarcely have told what phrase or +word at last suddenly brought up before her a picture of the nursery in +the house in Mayfair--the feeling of a warm soft childish body pressed +close to her knee, the look of a tender, dewy-eyed small face and the +sound of a small yearning voice saying: + +"I want to _kiss_ you, Dowie." And so hearing it, Dowie's heart cried +out to itself, "Oh! Dear Lord!" + +"It's Miss Robin that trouble's come to," involuntarily broke from her. + + +"A trouble she must be protected in. She cannot protect herself." For a +few seconds he sat and looked at her very steadily. It was as though he +were asking a question. Dowie did not know she was going to rise from +her chair. But for some reason she got up and stood quite firmly before +him. And her good heart went thump-thump-thump. + +"Your lordship," she said and in spite of the thumping her voice +actually did not shake. "It was one of those War weddings. And perhaps +he's dead." + +Then it was Lord Coombe who left his chair. + +"Thank you, Dowie," he said and before he began to walk up and down the +tiny room she felt as if he made a slight bow to her. + +She had said something that he had wished her to say. She had removed +some trying barrier for him instead of obliging him to help her to cross +it and perhaps stumbling on her way. She had neither stumbled nor +clambered, she had swept it away out of his path and hers. That was +because she knew Miss Robin and had known her from her babyhood. + +Though for some time he walked to and fro slowly as he talked she saw +that it was easier for him to complete the relation of his story. But as +it proceeded it was necessary for her to make an effort to recall +herself to a realisation of the atmosphere of the parlour and the narrow +street outside the window--and she was glad to be assisted by the +amiable rumble of Mr. Jenkinson's voice as heard from the back room when +she found herself involuntarily leaning forward in her chair, vaguely +conscious that she was drawing short breaths, as she listened to what he +was telling her. The things she was listening to stood out from a +background of unreality so startling. She was even faintly tormented by +shadowy memories of a play she had seen years ago at Drury Lane. And +Drury Lane incidents were of a world so incongruously remote from the +house in Eaton Square and her grace's clever aquiline ivory face--and +his lordship with his quiet bearing and his unromantic and elderly, +tired fineness. And yet he was going to undertake to do a thing which +was of the order of deed the sober everyday mind could only expect from +the race of persons known as "heroes" in theatres and in books. And he +was noticeably and wholly untheatrical about it. His plans were those of +a farseeing and practical man in every detail. To Dowie the working +perfection of his preparations was amazing. They included every +contingency and seemed to forget nothing and ignore no possibility. He +had thought of things the cleverest woman might have thought of, he had +achieved effects as only a sensible man accustomed to power and +obedience could have achieved them. And from first to last he kept +before Dowie the one thing which held the strongest appeal. In her +helpless heartbreak and tragedy Robin needed her as she needed no one +else in the world. + +"She is so broken and weakened that she may not live," he said in the +end. "No one can care for her as you can." + +"I can care for her, poor lamb. I'll come when your lordship's ready for +me, be it soon or late." + +"Thank you, Dowie," he said again. "It will be soon." + +And when he shook hands with her and she opened the front door for him, +she stood and watched him, thinking very deeply as he walked down the +street with the wind-blown dust and scraps of paper whirling about him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +In little more than two weeks Dowie descended from her train in the +London station and took a hansom cab which carried her through the +familiar streets to Eaton Square. She was comforted somewhat by the mere +familiarity of things--even by the grade of smoke which seemed in some +way to be different from the smoke of Manchester's cotton factory +chimneys--by the order of rattle and roar and rumble, which had a +homelike sound. She had not felt at home in Manchester and she had not +felt quite at home with Henrietta though she had done her duty by her. +Their worlds had been far apart and daily adjustment to circumstances is +not easy though it may be accomplished without the betrayal of any +outward sign. His lordship's summons had come soon, as he had said it +would, but he had made it possible for her to leave in the little house +a steady and decent woman to take her place when she gave it up. + +She had made her journey from the North with an anxiously heavy heart in +her breast. She was going to "take on" a responsibility which included +elements previously quite unknown to her. She was going to help to hide +something, to live with a strange secret trouble and while she did so +must wear her accustomed, respectable and decorous manner and aspect. +Whatsoever alarmed or startled her, she must not seem to be startled or +alarmed. As his lordship had carried himself with his usual bearing, +spoken in his high-bred calm voice and not once failed in the +naturalness of his expression--even when he had told her the whole +strange plan--so she must in any circumstances which arose and in any +difficult situation wear always the aspect of a well-bred and trained +servant who knew nothing which did not concern her and did nothing +which ordinary domestic service did not require that she should do. She +must always seem to be only Sarah Ann Dowson and never forget. But +delicate and unusual as this problem was, it was not the thing which +made her heart heavy. Several times during her journey she had been +obliged to turn her face towards the window of the railway carriage and +away from her fellow passengers so that she might very quickly and +furtively touch her eyes with her handkerchief because she did not want +any one to see the tear which obstinately welled up in spite of her +efforts to keep it back. + +She had heard of "trouble" in good families, had even been related to +it. She knew how awful it was and what desperate efforts were made, what +desperate means resorted to, in the concealment of it. And how difficult +and almost impossible it was to cope with it and how it seemed sometimes +as if the whole fabric of society and custom combined to draw attention +to mere trifles which in the end proved damning evidence. + +And it was Miss Robin she was going to--her own Miss Robin who had never +known a child of her own age or had a girl friend--who had been cut off +from innocent youth and youth's happiness and intimacies. + +"It's been one of those poor mad young war weddings," she kept saying to +herself, "though no one will believe her. If she hadn't been so ignorant +of life and so lonely! But just as she fell down worshipping that dear +little chap in the Gardens because he was the first she'd ever +seen--it's only nature that the first beautiful young thing her own age +that looked at her with love rising up in him should set it rising in +her--where God had surely put it if ever He put love as part of life in +any girl creature His hand made. But Oh! I can _see_ no one will +believe her! The world's heart's so wicked. I know, poor lamb. Her Dowie +knows. And her left like this!" + +It was when her thoughts reached this point that the tear would gather +in the corner of her eye and would have trickled down her cheek if she +had not turned away towards the window. + +But above all things she told herself she must present only Dowie's face +when she reached Eaton Square. There were the servants who knew nothing +and must know nothing but that Mrs. Dowson had come to take care of poor +Miss Lawless who had worked too hard and was looking ill and was to be +sent into the country to some retreat her grace had chosen because it +was far enough away to allow of her being cut off from war news and +work, if her attendants were faithful and firm. Every one knew Mrs. +Dowson would be firm and faithful. Then there were the ladies who went +in and out of the house in these days. If they saw her by any chance +they might ask kind interested questions about the pretty creature they +had liked. They might inquire as to symptoms, they might ask where she +was to be taken to be nursed. Dowie knew that after she had seen Robin +herself she could provide suitable symptoms and she knew, as she knew +how to breathe and walk, exactly the respectful voice and manner in +which she could make her replies and how natural she could cause it to +appear that she had not yet been told their destination--her grace being +still undecided. Dowie's decent intelligence knew the methods of her +class and their value when perfectly applied. A nurse or a young lady's +maid knew only what she was told and did not ask questions. + +But what she thought of most anxiously was Robin herself. His lordship +had given her no instructions. Part of his seeming to understand her was +that he had seemed to be sure that she would know what to say and what +to leave unsaid. She was glad of that because it left her free to think +the thing over and make her own quiet plans. She drew more than one +tremulous sigh as she thought it out. In the first place--little Miss +Robin seemed like a baby to her yet! Oh, she _was_ a baby! Little Miss +Robin just in her teens and with her childish asking eyes and her soft +childish mouth! Her a young married lady and needing to be taken care +of! She was too young to be married--if it was ever so! And if +everything had been done all right and proper with wedding cake and +veil, orange blossoms and St. George's, Hanover Square, she still would +have been too young and would have looked almost cruelly like a child. +And at a time such as this Dowie would have known she was one to be +treated with great delicacy and tender reserve. But as it was--a little +shamed thing to be hidden away--to be saved from the worst of fates for +any girl--with nothing in her hand to help her--how would it be wisest +to face her, how could one best be a comfort and a help? + +How the sensible and tender creature gave her heart and brain to her +reflections! How she balanced one chance and one emotion against +another! Her conclusion was, as Coombe had known it would be, drawn from +the experience of practical wisdom and an affection as deep as the +experience was broad. + +"She won't be afraid of Dowie," she thought, "if it's just Dowie that +looks at her exactly as she always did. In her little soul she may be +frightened to death but if it's only Dowie she sees--not asking +questions or looking curious and unnatural, she'll get over it and know +she's got something to hold on to. What she needs is something she can +hold on to--something that won't tremble when she does--and that looks +at her in the way she was used to when she was happy and safe. What I +must do with her is what I must do with the others--just look and talk +and act as Dowie always did, however hard it is. Perhaps when we get +away to the quiet place we're going to hide in, she may begin to want to +talk to me. But not a question do I ask or look until she's ready to +open her poor heart to me." + + * * * * * + +She had herself well under control when she reached her destination. She +had bathed her face and freshened herself with a cup of hot tea at the +station. She entered the house quite with her usual manner and was +greeted with obvious welcome by her fellow servants. They had missed her +and were glad to see her again. She reported herself respectfully to +Mrs. James in the housekeeper's sitting room and they had tea again and +a confidential talk. + +"I'm glad you could leave your niece, Mrs. Dowson," the housekeeper +said. "It's high time poor little Miss Lawless was sent away from +London. She's not fit for war work now or for anything but lying in bed +in a quiet place where she can get fresh country air and plenty of fresh +eggs, and good milk and chicken broth. And she needs a motherly woman +like you to watch her carefully." + +"Does she look as delicate as all that?" said Dowie concernedly. + +"She'll lie in the graveyard in a few months if something's not done. +I've seen girls look like her before this." And Mrs. James said it +almost sharply. + +But even with this preparation and though Lord Coombe had spoken +seriously of the state of the girl's health, Dowie was not ready to +encounter without a fearful sense of shock what she confronted a little +later when she went to Robin's sitting room as she was asked to. + +When she tapped upon the door and in response to a faint sounding "Come +in" entered the pretty place, Robin rose from her seat by the fire and +came towards her holding out her arms. + +"I'm so glad you came, Dowie dear," she said, "I'm _so_ glad." She put +the arms close round Dowie's neck and kissed her and held her cheek +against the comfortable warm one a moment before she let go. "I'm so +_glad_, dear," she murmured and it was even as she felt the arms close +about her neck and the cheek press hers that Dowie caught her breath and +held it so that she might not seem to gasp. They were such thin frail +arms, the young body on which the dress hung loose was only a shadow of +the round slimness which had been so sweet. + +But it was when the arm released her and they stood apart and looked at +each other that she felt the shock in full force while Robin continued +her greetings. + +"Did you leave Henrietta and the children quite well?" she was saying. +"Is the new baby a pretty one?" + +Dowie had not been one of those who had seen the gradual development of +the physical change in her. It came upon her suddenly. She had left a +young creature all softly rounded girlhood, sweet curves and life glow +and bloom. She found herself holding a thin hand and looking into a +transparent, sharpened small face whose eyes were hollowed. The silk of +the curls on the forehead had a dankness and lifelessness which almost +made her catch her breath again. Like Mrs. James she herself had more +than once had the experience of watching young creatures slip into what +the nurses of her day called "rapid decline" and she knew all the +piteous portents of the early stages--the waxen transparency of +sharpened features and the damp clinging hair. These two last were to +her mind the most significant of the early terrors. + +And in less than five minutes she knew that the child was not going to +talk about herself and that she had been right in making up her own mind +to wait. Whatsoever the strain of silence, there would be no speech now. +The piteous darkness of her eye held a stillness that was +heart-breaking. It was a stillness of such touching endurance of +something inevitable. Whatsoever had happened to her, whatsoever was +going to happen to her, she would make no sound. She would outwardly be +affectionate, pretty-mannered Miss Robin just as Dowie herself would +give all her strength to trying to seem to be nothing and nobody but +Dowie. And what it would cost of effort to do it well! + +When they sat down together it was because she drew Robin by the thin +little hand to an easy chair and she still held the thin hand when she +sat near her. + +"Henrietta's quite well, I'm glad to say," she answered. "And the baby's +a nice plump little fellow. I left them very comfortable--and I think in +time Henrietta will be married again." + +"Married again!" said Robin. "Again!" + +"He's a nice well-to-do man and he's fond of her and he's fond of +children. He's never had any and he's always wanted them." + +"Has he?" Robin murmured. "That's very nice for Henrietta." But there +was a shadow in her eyes which was rather like frightened bewilderment. + +Dowie still holding the mere nothing of a hand, stroked and patted it +now and then as she described Mr. Jenkinson and the children and the +life in the house in Manchester. She wanted to gain time and commonplace +talk helped her. + +"She won't be married again until her year's up," she explained. "And +it's the best thing she could do--being left a young widow with children +and nothing to live on. Mr. Jenkinson can give her more than she's ever +had in the way of comforts." + +"Did she love poor Jem very much?" Robin asked. + +"She was very much taken with him in her way when she married him," +Dowie said. "He was a cheerful, joking sort of young man and girls like +Henrietta like jokes and fun. But they were neither of them romantic and +it had begun to be a bit hard when the children came. She'll be very +comfortable with Mr. Jenkinson and being comfortable means being +happy--to Henrietta." + +Then Robin smiled a strange little ghost of a smile--but there were no +dimples near it. + +"You haven't told me that I am thin, Dowie," she said. "I know I am +thin, but it doesn't matter. And I am glad you kissed me first. That +made me sure that you were Dowie and not only a dream. Everything has +been seeming as if it were a dream--everything--myself--everybody--even +you--_you_!" And the small hand clutched her hard. + +A large lump climbed into Dowie's throat but she managed it bravely. + +"It's no use telling people they're thin," she answered with stout good +cheer. "It doesn't help to put flesh on them. And there are a good many +young ladies working themselves thin in these days. You're just one of +them that's going to be taken care of. I'm not a dream, Miss Robin, my +dear. I'm just your own Dowie and I'm going to take care of you as I did +when you were six." + +She actually felt the bones of the small hand as it held her own still +closer. It began to tremble because Robin had begun to tremble. But +though she was trembling and her eyes looked very large and frightened, +the silence was still deep within them. + +"Yes," the low voice faltered, "you will take care of me. Thank you, +Dowie dear. I--must let people take care of me. I know that. I am like +Henrietta." + +And that was all. + + * * * * * + +"She's very much changed, your grace," Dowie said breathlessly when she +went to the Duchess afterwards. There had been no explanation or going +into detail but she knew that she might allow herself to be breathless +when she stood face to face with her grace. "Does she cough? Has she +night sweats? Has she any appetite?" + +"She does not cough yet," the Duchess answered, but her grave eyes were +as troubled as Dowie's own. "Doctor Redcliff will tell you everything. +He will see you alone. We are sending her away with you because you love +her and will know how to take care of her. We are very anxious." + +"Your grace," Dowie faltered and one of the tears she had forced back +when she was in the railway carriage rose insubordinately and rolled +down her cheek, "just once I nursed a young lady who--looked as she does +now. I did my best with all my heart, the doctors did their best, +everybody that loved her did their best--and there were a good many. We +watched over her for six months." + +"Six months?" the Duchess' voice was an unsteady thing. + +"At the end of six months we laid her away in a pretty country +churchyard, with flowers heaped all over her--and her white little hands +full of them. And she hadn't--as much to contend with--as Miss Robin +has." + +And in the minute of dead silence which followed more tears fell. No one +tried to hold them back and some of them were the tears of the old +Duchess. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +There are old and forgotten churches in overgrown corners of London +whose neglected remoteness suggests the possibility of any +ecclesiastical ceremony being performed quite unobserved except by the +parties concerned in it. If entries and departures were discreetly +arranged, a baptismal or a marriage ceremony might take place almost as +in a tomb. A dark wet day in which few pass by and such as pass are +absorbed in their own discomforts beneath their umbrellas, offers a +curiously entire aloofness of seclusion. In the neglected graveyards +about them there is no longer any room to bury any one in the damp black +earth where the ancient tombs are dark with mossy growth and mould, +heavy broken slabs slant sidewise perilously, sad and thin cats prowl, +and from a soot-blackened tree or so the rain drops with hollow, +plashing sounds. + +The rain was so plashing and streaming in rivulets among the mounds and +stones of the burial ground of one of the most ancient and forgotten +looking of such churches, when on a certain afternoon there came to the +narrow soot-darkened Vicarage attached to it a tall, elderly man who +wished to see and talk to the Vicar. + +The Vicar in question was an old clergyman who had spent nearly fifty +years in the silent, ecclesiastical-atmosphered small house. He was an +unmarried man whose few relatives living in the far North of England +were too poor and unenterprising to travel to London. His days were +spent in unsatisfactory work among crowded and poverty-stricken human +creatures before whom he felt helpless because he was an unpractical old +Oxford bookworm. He read such services as he held in his dim church, to +empty pews and echoing hollowness. He was nevertheless a deeply thinking +man who was a gentleman of a scarcely remembered school; he was a +peculiarly silent man and of dignified understanding. Through the long +years he had existed in detached seclusion in his corner of his world +around which great London roared and swept almost unheard by him in his +remoteness. + +When the visitor's card was brought to him where he sat in his dingy, +book-packed study, he stood--after he had told his servant to announce +the caller--gazing dreamily at the name upon the white surface. It was a +stately name and brought back vague memories. Long ago--very long ago, +he seemed to recall that he had slightly known the then bearer of it. He +himself had been young then--quite young. The man he had known was dead +and this one, his successor, must by this time have left youth behind +him. What had led him to come? + +Then the visitor was shown into the study. The Vicar felt that he was a +man of singular suggestions. His straight build, his height, his +carriage arrested the attention and the clear cut of his cold face held +it. One of his marked suggestions was that there was unusual lack of +revelation in his rather fine almond eye. It might have revealed much +but its intention was to reveal nothing but courteous detachment from +all but well-bred approach to the demand of the present moment. + +"I think I remember seeing you when you were a boy, Lord Coombe," the +Vicar said. "My father was rector of St. Andrews." St. Andrews was the +Norman-towered church on the edge of the park enclosing Coombe Keep. + +"I came to you because I also remembered that," was Coombe's reply. + +Their meeting was a very quiet one. But every incident of life was +quiet in the Vicarage. Only low sounds were ever heard, only almost +soundless movements made. The two men seated themselves and talked +calmly while the rain pattered on the window panes and streaming down +them seemed to shut out the world. + +What the Vicar realised was that, since his visitor had announced that +he had come because he remembered their old though slight acquaintance, +he had obviously come for some purpose to which the connection formed a +sort of support or background. This man, whose modernity of bearing and +externals seemed to separate them by a lifetime of experience, clearly +belonged to the London which surrounded and enclosed his own silences +with civilised roar and the tumult of swift passings. On the surface the +small, dingy book-crammed study obviously held nothing this outer world +could require. The Vicar said as much courteously and he glanced round +the room as he spoke, gently smiling. + +"But it is exactly this which brings me," Lord Coombe answered. + +With great clearness and never raising the note of quiet to which the +walls were accustomed, he made his explanation. He related no incidents +and entered into no detail. When he had at length concluded the +presentation of his desires, his hearer knew nothing whatever, save what +was absolutely necessary, of those concerned in the matter. Utterly +detached from all curiosities as he was, this crossed the Vicar's mind. +There was a marriage ceremony to be performed. That only the contracting +parties should be aware of its performance was absolutely necessary. +That there should be no chance of opportunity given for question or +comment was imperative. Apart from this the legality of the contract was +all that concerned those entering into it; and that must be assured +beyond shadow of possible doubt. + +In the half-hidden and forgotten old church to which the Vicarage was +attached such a ceremony could obviously be performed, and to an +incumbent detached from the outer world, as it were, and one who was +capable of comprehending the occasional gravity of reasons for silence, +it could remain so long as was necessary a confidence securely guarded. + +"It is possible," the Vicar said at the end of the explanation. "I have +performed the ceremony before under somewhat similar circumstances." + +A man of less breeding and with even normal curiosities might have made +the mistake of asking innocent questions. He asked none except such as +related to the customary form of procedure in such matters. He did not, +in fact, ask questions of himself. He was also fully aware that Lord +Coombe would have given no answer to any form of inquiry. The marriage +was purely his own singular affair. It was he himself who chose in this +way to be married--in a forgotten church in whose shadowy emptiness the +event would be as a thing brought to be buried unseen and unmarked by +any stone, but would yet be a contract binding in the face and courts of +the world if it should for any reason be exhumed. + +When he rose to go and the Vicar rose with him, there was a moment of +pause which was rather curious. The men's eyes met and for a few moments +rested upon each other. The Vicar's were still and grave, but there was +a growth of deep feeling in them. This suggested a sort of profound +human reflection. + +Lord Coombe's expression itself changed a shade. It might perhaps be +said that his eyes had before this moment scarcely seemed to hold +expression. + +"She is very young," he said in an unusual voice. "In +this--holocaust--she needs protection. I can protect her." + +"It is a holocaust," the Vicar said, "--a holocaust." And singularly the +words seemed an answer. + + * * * * * + +On a morning of one of London's dark days when the rain was again +splashing and streaming in rivulets among the mounds and leaning and +tumbling stones of the forgotten churchyard, there came to the church +three persons who if they had appeared in more frequented edifices would +have attracted some attention without doubt, unnoticeably as they were +dressed and inconspicuous as was their manner and bearing. + +They did not all three present themselves at the same time. First there +appeared the tall elderly man who had visited and conferred with the +Vicar. He went at once to the vestry where he spent some time with the +incumbent who awaited him. + +Somewhat later there stepped through the little arched doorway a +respectable looking elderly woman and a childlike white-faced girl in a +close black frock. That the church looked to them so dark as to be +almost black with shadows was manifest when they found themselves inside +peering into the dimness. The outer darkness seemed to have crowded +itself through the low doorway to fill the groined arches with gloom. + +"Where must we go to, Dowie?" Robin whispered holding to the warm, stout +arm. + +"Don't be timid, my dearie," Dowie whispered back. "His lordship will be +ready for us now we've come." + +His lordship was ready. He came forward to meet them and when he did so, +Robin knew--though he seemed to be part of the dimness and to come out +of a dream--that she need feel no further uncertainties or fears. That +which was to take place would move forward without let or hindrance to +its end. That was what one always felt in his presence. + +In a few minutes they were standing in a part of the church which would +have seemed darker than any other shadow-filled corner but that a dim +light burned on a small altar and a clergyman whose white vestments made +him look wraithlike and very tall waited before it and after a few +moments of solemn silence began to read from the prayer book he held in +his hand. + +There were strange passings and repassings through Robin's mind as she +made her low responses--memories of the hours when she had asked herself +if she were still alive--if she were not dead as Donal was, but walking +about without having found it out. It was as though this must be true +now and her own voice and Lord Coombe's and the clergyman's only ghosts' +voices. They were so low and unlike real voices and when they floated +away among the shadows, low ghastly echoes seemed to float with them. + +"I will," she heard herself say, and also other things the clergyman +told her to repeat after him and when Lord Coombe spoke she could +scarcely understand because it was all like a dream and did not matter. + +Once she turned so cold and white and trembled so that Dowie made an +involuntary movement towards her, but Lord Coombe's quiet firmness held +her swaying body and though the clergyman paused a moment the trembling +passed away and the ceremony went on. She had begun to tremble because +she remembered that the other marriage had seemed like a dream in +another world than this--a world which was so alive that she had +trembled and thrilled with exquisite living. And because Donal knew how +frightened she was he had stood so close to her that she had felt the +dear warmness of his body. And he had held her hand quite tight when he +took it and his "I will" had been beautiful and clear. And when he had +put on the borrowed ring he had drawn her eyes up to the blue tarn of +his own. Donal was killed! Perhaps the young chaplain had been killed +too. And she was being married to Lord Coombe who was an old man and did +not stand close to her, whose hand scarcely held hers at all--but who +was putting on a ring. + +Her eyes--her hunted young doe's eyes--lifted themselves. Lord Coombe +met them and understood. Strangely she knew he understood--that he knew +what she was thinking about. For that one moment there came into his +eyes a look which might not have been his own, and vaguely she knew that +it held strange understanding and he was sorry for her--and for Donal +and for everything in the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +The little feudal fastness in the Highlands which was called Darreuch +Castle--when it was mentioned by any one, which was rarely--had been +little more than a small ruin when Lord Coombe inherited it as an +unconsidered trifle among more imposing and available property. It had +indeed presented the aspect not so much of an asset as of an entirely +useless relic. The remote and--as far as record dwelt on him--obviously +unnotable ancestor who had built it as a stronghold in an almost +unreachable spot upon the highest moors had doubtlessly had picturesque +reasons for the structure, but these were lost in the dim past and +appeared on the surface, unexplainable to a modern mind. Lord Coombe +himself had not explained an interest he chose to feel in it, or his own +reasons for repairing it a few years after it came into his possession. +He rebuilt certain breaches in the walls and made certain rooms +sufficiently comfortable to allow of his spending a few nights or weeks +in it at rare intervals. He always went alone, taking no servant with +him, and made his retreat after his own mood, served only by the farmer +and his wife who lived in charge from year's end to year's end, herding +a few sheep and cultivating a few acres for their own needs. + +They were a silent pair without children and plainly not feeling the +lack of them. They had lived in remote moorland places since their +birth. They had so little to say to each other that Lord Coombe +sometimes felt a slight curiosity as to why they had married instead of +remaining silent singly. There was however neither sullenness nor +resentment in their lack of expression. Coombe thought they liked each +other but found words unnecessary. Jock Macaur driving his sheep to fold +in the westering sun wore the look of a man not unpleased with life and +at least undisturbed by it. Maggy Macaur doing her housework, churning +or clucking to her hens, was peacefully cheerful and seemed to ask no +more of life than food and sleep and comfortable work which could be +done without haste. There were no signs of knowledge on her part or +Jock's of the fact that they were surrounded by wonders of moorland and +hillside colour and beauty. Sunrise which leaped in delicate flames of +dawn meant only that they must leave their bed; sunset which lighted the +moorland world with splendour meant that a good night's sleep was +coming. + +Jock had heard from a roaming shepherd or so that the world was at war +and that lads were being killed in their thousands. One good man had +said that the sons of the great gentry were being killed with the rest. +Jock did not say that he did not believe it and in fact expressed no +opinion at all. If he and Maggy gave credit to the story, they were +little disturbed by any sense of its reality. They had no neighbours and +their few stray kinfolk lived at remote distances and were not given to +visits or communications. There had been vague rumours of far away wars +in the years past, but they had assumed no more reality than legends. +This war was a shadow too and after Jock came home one night and +mentioned it as he might have mentioned the death of a cow or the buying +of a moor pony the subject was forgotten by both. + +"His lordship" it was who reminded them of it. He even bestowed upon the +rumour a certain reality. He appeared at the stout little old castle one +day without having sent them warning, which was unusual. He came to give +some detailed orders and to instruct them in the matter of changes. He +had shown forethought in bringing with him a selection of illustrated +newspapers. This saved time and trouble in the matter of making the +situation clear. The knowledge which conveyed itself to Maggy and Jock +produced the effect of making them even more silent than usual if such a +condition were possible. They stared fixedly and listened with respect +but beyond a rare "Hech!" they had no opinion to express. It became +plain that the war was more than a mere rumour-- The lads who had been +blown to bits or bayoneted! The widows and orphans that were left! Some +of the youngest of the lads had lost their senses and married young +things only to go off to the ill place folk called "The Front" and leave +them widows in a few days' or weeks' time. There were hundreds of bits +of girls left lonely waiting for their bairns to come into the +world--Some with scarce a penny unless friends took care of them. There +was a bit widow in her teens who was a distant kinswoman of his +lordship's, and her poor lad was among those who were killed. He had +been a fine lad and he would never see his bairn. The poor young widow +had been ill with grief and the doctors said she must be hidden away in +some quiet place where she would never hear of battles or see a +newspaper. She must be kept in peace and taken great care of if she was +to gain strength to live through her time. She had no family to watch +over her and his lordship and an old lady who was fond of her had taken +her trouble in hand. The well-trained woman who had nursed her as a +child would bring her to Darreuch Castle and there would stay. + +His lordship had been plainly much interested in the long time past when +he had put the place in order for his own convenience. Now he seemed +even more interested and more serious. He went from room to room with a +grave face and looked things over carefully. He had provided himself +with comforts and even luxuries before his first coming and they had +been of the solid baronial kind which does not deteriorate. It was a +little castle and a forgotten one, but his rooms had beauty and had not +been allowed to be as gloomy as they might have been if stone walls and +black oak had not been warmed by the rich colours of tapestry and +pictures which held light and glow. But other things were coming from +London. He himself would wait to see them arrive and installed. The +Macaurs wondered what more the "young leddy" and her woman could want +but took their orders obediently. Her woman's name was Mrs. Dowson and +she was a quiet decent body who would manage the household. That the +young widow was to be well taken care of was evident. A doctor was to +ride up the moorland road each day to see her, which seemed a great +precaution even though the Macaurs did not know that he had consented to +live temporarily in the locality because he had been well paid to do so. +Lord Coombe had chosen him with as discreet selection as he had used in +his choice of the vicar of the ancient and forsaken church. A rather +young specialist who was an enthusiast in his work and as ambitious as +he was poor, could contemplate selling some months of his time for value +received if the terms offered were high enough. That silence and +discretion were required formed no objections. + + * * * * * + +The rain poured down on the steep moorland road when the carriage slowly +climbed it to the castle. Robin, seeming to gaze out at the sodden +heath, did not really see it because she was thinking of Dowie who sat +silently by her side. Dowie had taken her from the church to the station +and they had made the long journey together. They had talked very little +in the train though Dowie had been tenderly careful and kind. Robin knew +she would ask no questions and she dully felt that the blows which were +falling on everybody every day must have stunned her also. What she +herself was thinking as she seemed to gaze at the sodden heather was a +thing of piteous and helpless pain. She was achingly wondering what +Dowie was thinking--what she knew and what she thought of the girl she +had taken such care of and who was being sent away to be hidden in a +ruined castle whose existence was a forgotten thing. The good +respectable face told nothing but it seemed to be trying to keep itself +from looking too serious; and once Robin had thought that it looked as +if Dowie might suddenly have broken down if she would have allowed +herself but she would not allow herself. + +The truth was that the two or three days at Eaton Square had been very +hard for Dowie to manage perfectly. To play her accepted part before her +fellow servants required much steady strength. They were all fond of +"poor little Miss Lawless" and had the tendency of their class to +discuss and dwell upon symptoms with sympathetic harrowingness of +detail. It seemed that all of them had had some friend or relative who +had "gone off in a quick decline. It's strange how many young people +do!" A head housemaid actually brought her heart into her throat one +afternoon by saying at the servants' hall tea: + +"If she was one of the war brides, I should say she was just like my +cousin Lucy--poor girl. She and her husband were that fond of each other +that it was a pleasure to see them. He was killed in an accident. She +was expecting. And they'd been that happy. She went off in three +months. She couldn't live without him. She wasn't as pretty as Miss +Lawless, of course, but she had big brown eyes and it was the way they +looked that reminded me. Quick decline always makes people's eyes look +big and--just as poor little Miss Lawless does." + +To sit and eat buttered toast quietly and only look normally sad and +slowly shake one's head and say, "Yes indeed. I know what you mean, Miss +Tompkins," was an achievement entitled to much respect. + +The first night Dowie had put her charge to bed and had seen the faint +outline under the bedclothes and the sunken eyes under the pale closed +lids whose heaviness was so plain because it was a heaviness which had +no will to lift itself again and look at the morning, she could scarcely +bear her woe. As she dressed the child when morning came and saw the +delicate bones sharply denoting themselves, and the hollows in neck and +throat where smooth fairness had been, her hands almost shook as she +touched. And hardest of all to bear was the still, patient look in the +enduring eyes. She was being patient--_patient_, poor lamb, and only God +himself knew how she cried when she was left alone in her white bed, the +door closed between her and all the house. + +"Does she think I am wicked?" was what was passing through Robin's mind +as the carriage climbed the moor through the rain. "It would break my +heart if Dowie thought I was wicked. But even that does not matter. It +is only _my_ heart." + +In memory she was looking again into Donal's eyes as he had looked into +hers when he knelt before her in the wood. Afterwards he had kissed her +dress and her feet when she said she would go with him to be married so +that he could have her for his own before he went away to be killed. + +It would have been _his_ heart that would have been broken if she had +said "No" instead of whispering the soft "Yes" of a little mating bird, +which had always been her answer when he had asked anything of her. + +When the carriage drew up at last before the entrance to the castle, the +Macaurs awaited them with patient respectful faces. They saw the "decent +body" assist with care the descent of a young thing the mere lift of +whose eyes almost caused both of them to move a trifle backward. + +"You and Dowie are going to take care of me," she said quiet and low and +with a childish kindness. "Thank you." + +She was taken to a room in whose thick wall Lord Coombe had opened a +window for sunlight and the sight of hill and heather. It was a room +warm and full of comfort--a strange room to find in a little feudal +stronghold hidden from the world. Other rooms were near it, as +comfortable and well prepared. One in a tower adjoining was hung with +tapestry and filled with wonderful old things, uncrowded and harmonious +and so arranged as to produce the effect of a small retreat for rest, +the reading of books or refuge in stillness. + +When Robin went into it she stood for a few moments looking about +her--looking and wondering. + +"Lord Coombe remembers everything," she said very slowly at last, +"--everything. He remembers." + +"He always did remember," said Dowie watching her. "That's it." + +"I did not know--at first," Robin said as slowly as before. "I do--now." + +In the evening she sat long before the fire and Dowie, sewing near her, +looked askance now and then at her white face with the lost eyes. It was +Dowie's own thought that they were "lost." She had never before seen +anything like them. She could not help glancing sideways at them as they +gazed into the red glow of the coal. What was her mind dwelling on? Was +she thinking of words to say? Would she begin to feel that they were far +enough from all the world--remote and all alone enough for words not to +be sounds too terrible to hear even as they were spoken? + +"Oh! dear Lord," Dowie prayed, "help her to ease her poor, timid young +heart that's so crushed with cruel weight." + +"You must go to bed early, my dear," she said at length. "But why don't +you get a book and read?" + +The lost eyes left the fire and met hers. + +"I want to talk," Robin said. "I want to ask you things." + +"I'll tell you anything you want to know," answered Dowie. "You're only +a child and you need an older woman to talk to." + +"I want to talk to you about--_me_," said Robin. She sat straight in her +chair, her hands clasped on her knee. "Do you know about--me, Dowie?" +she asked. + +"Yes, my dear," Dowie answered. + +"Tell me what Lord Coombe told you." + +Dowie put down her sewing because she was afraid her hands would tremble +when she tried to find the proper phrase in which to tell as briefly as +she could the extraordinary story. + +"He said that you were married to a young gentleman who was killed at +the Front--and that because you were both so young and hurried and upset +you perhaps hadn't done things as regular as you thought. And that you +hadn't the papers you ought to have for proof. And it might take too +much time to search for them now. And--and--Oh, my love, he's a good +man, for all you've hated him so! He won't let a child be born with +shame to blight it. And he's given you and it--poor helpless +innocent--his own name, God bless him!" + +Robin sat still and straight, with clasped hands on her knee, and her +eyes more lost than before, as she questioned Dowie remorselessly. There +was something she must know. + +"He said--and the Duchess said--that no one would believe me if I told +them I was married. Do _you_ believe me, Dowie? Would Mademoiselle +believe me--if she is alive--for Oh! I believe she is dead! Would you +_both_ believe me?" + +Dowie's work fell upon the rug and she held out both her comfortable +nursing arms, choking: + +"Come here, my lamb," she cried out, with suddenly streaming eyes. "Come +and sit on your old Dowie's knee like you used to do in the nursery." + +"You _do_ believe me--you _do_!" As she had looked in the nursery +days--the Robin who left her chair and was swept into the well known +embrace--looked now. She hid her face on Dowie's shoulder and clung to +her with shaking hands. + +"I prayed to Jesus Christ that you would believe me, Dowie!" she cried. +"And that Mademoiselle would come if she is not killed. I wanted you to +_know_ that it was true--I wanted you to _know_!" + +"That was it, my pet lamb!" Dowie kept hugging her to her breast "We'd +both of us know! We know _you_--we do! No one need prove things to us. +We _know_!" + +"It frightened me so to think of asking you," shivered Robin. "When you +came to Eaton Square I could not bear it. If your dear face had looked +different I should have died. But I couldn't go to bed to-night without +finding out. The Duchess and Lord Coombe are very kind and sorry for me +and they say they believe me--but I can't feel sure they really do. And +nobody else would. But you and Mademoiselle. You loved me always and I +loved you. And I prayed you would." + +Dowie knew how Mademoiselle had died--of the heap of innocent village +people on which she had fallen bullet-riddled. But she said nothing of +her knowledge. + +"Mademoiselle would say what I do and she would stay and take care of +you as I'm going to do," she faltered. "God bless you for asking me +straight out, my dear! I was waiting for you to speak and praying you'd +do it before I went to bed myself. I couldn't have slept a wink if you +hadn't." + +For a space they sat silent--Robin on her knee like a child drooping +against her warm breast. Outside was the night stillness of the moor, +inside the night stillness held within the thick walls of stone rooms +and passages, in their hearts the stillness of something which yet +waited--unsaid. + +At last-- + +"Did Lord Coombe tell you who--he was, Dowie?" + +"He said perhaps you would tell me yourself--if you felt you'd like me +to know. He said it was to be as you chose." + +Robin fumbled with a thin hand at the neck of her dress. She drew from +it a chain with a silk bag attached. Out of the bag she took first a +small folded package. + +"Do you remember the dry leaves I wanted to keep when I was so little?" +she whispered woefully. "I was too little to know how to save them. And +you made me this tiny silk bag." + +Dowie's face was almost frightened as she drew back to look. There was +in her motherly soul the sudden sense of panic she had felt in the +nursery so long ago. + +"My blessed child!" she breathed. "Not that one--after all that time!" + +"Yes," said Robin. "Look, Dowie--look." + +She had taken a locket out of the silk bag and she opened it and Dowie +looked. + +Perhaps any woman would have felt what she felt when she saw the face +which seemed to laugh rejoicing into hers, as if Life were such a +supernal thing--as if it were literally the blessed gift of God as all +the ages have preached to us even while they have railed at the burden +of living and called it cruel nothingness. The radiance in the eyes' +clearness, the splendid strength and joy in being, could have built +themselves into nothing less than such beauty as this. + +Dowie looked at it in dead silence, her breast heaving fast. + +"Oh! blessed God!" she broke out with a gasp. "Did they kill--that!" + +"Yes," said Robin, her voice scarcely more than a breath, "Donal." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Dowie put her to bed as she had done when she was a child, feeling as if +the days in the nursery had come back again. She saw gradually die out +of the white face the unnatural restraint which she had grieved over. It +had suggested the look of a girl who was not only desolate but afraid +and she wondered how long she had worn it and what she had been most +afraid of. + +In the depths of her comfortable being there lay hidden a maternal +pleasure in the nature of her responsibility. She had cared for young +mothers before, and that she should be called to watch over Robin, whose +child forlornness she had rescued, filled her heart with a glowing. As +she moved about the room quietly preparing for the comfort of the night +she knew that the soft dark of the lost eyes followed her and that it +was not quite so lost as it had looked in the church and on their +singularly silent journey. + +When her work was done and she turned to the bed again Robin's arms were +held out to her. + +"I want to kiss you, Dowie--I want to kiss you," she said with just the +yearning dwelling on the one word, which had so moved the good soul long +ago with its innocent suggestion of tender reverence for some sacred +rite. + +Dowie hurriedly knelt by the bedside. + +"Never you be frightened, my lamb--because you're so young and don't +know things," she whispered, holding her as if she were a baby. "Never +you let yourself be frightened for a moment. Your own Dowie's here and +always will be--and Dowie knows all about it." + +"Until you took me on your knee to-night," very low and in broken +phrases, "I was so lonely. I was as lonely as I used to be in the old +nursery before you and Mademoiselle came. Afterwards--" with a shudder, +"there were so many long, long nights. There--always--will be so many. +One after every day. I lie in my bed in the dark. And there is +_Nothing_! Oh! Dowie, _let_ me tell you!" her voice was a sweet longing +wail. "When Donal came back all the world was full and shining and warm! +It was full. There was no loneliness anywhere. We wanted nothing but +each other. And when he was gone there was only emptiness! And I was not +alive and I could not think. I can scarcely think now." + +"You'll begin to think soon, my lamb," Dowie whispered. "You've got +something to think of. After a while the emptiness won't be so big and +black." + +She ventured it very carefully. Her wise soul knew that the Emptiness +must come first--the awful world-old Emptiness which for an +endless-seeming time nothing can fill-- And all smug preachers of the +claims of life and duty must be chary of approaching those who stand +desolate gazing into it. + +"I could only _remember_," the broken heart-wringing voice went on. "And +it seemed as if the remembering was killing me over and over again-- It +is like that now. But in the Wood Lord Coombe said something +strange--which seemed to make me begin to think a little. Only it was +like beginning to try to write with a broken arm. I can't go on--I can +only think of Donal-- And be lonely--lonely--lonely." + +The very words--the mere sound of them in her own ears made her voice +trail away into bitter helpless crying--which would not stop. It was the +awful weeping of utter woe and weakness whose convulsive sobs go on and +on until they almost cease to seem human sounds. Dowie's practical +knowledge told her what she had to face. This was what she had guessed +at when she had known that there had been crying in the night. Mere +soothing of the tenderest would not check it. + +"I had been lonely--always-- And then the loneliness was gone. And +then--! If it had never gone--!" + +"I know, my dear, I know," said Dowie watching her with practised, +anxious eye. And she went away for a few moments and came back with an +unobtrusive calming draught and coaxed her into taking it and sat down +and prayed as she held the little hands which unknowingly beat upon the +pillow. Something of her steadiness and love flowed from her through her +own warm restraining palms and something in her tender steady voice +spoke for and helped her--though it seemed long and long before the +cruelty of the storm had lessened and the shadow of a body under the +bed-clothes lay deadly still and the heavy eyelids closed as if they +would never lift again. + +Dowie did not leave her for an hour or more but sat by her bedside and +watched. Like this had been the crying in the night. And she had been +alone. + + * * * * * + +As she sat and watched she thought deeply after her lights. She did not +think only of the sweet shattered thing she so well loved. She thought +much of Lord Coombe. Being a relic of a class which may be regarded as +forever extinct, her views on the subject of the rights and +responsibilities of rank were of an unswerving reverence verging on the +feudal. Even in early days her perfection of type was rare. To her +unwavering mind the remarkable story she had become a part of was almost +august in its subjection of ordinary views to the future of a great +house and its noble name. With the world falling to pieces and great +houses crumbling into nothingness, that this one should be rescued from +the general holocaust was a deed worthy of its head. But where was there +another man who would have done this thing as he had done it--remaining +totally indifferent to the ignominy which would fall upon his memory in +the years to come when the marriage was revealed. That the explanation +of his action would always be believed to be an unseemly and shameful +one was to her respectable serving-class mind a bitter thing. That it +would always be contemptuously said that a vicious elderly man had +educated the daughter of his mistress, that he might marry her and leave +an heir of her blooming youth, was almost worse than if he had been +known to have committed some decent crime like honest murder. Even the +servants' hall in the slice of a house, discussing the ugly whisper had +somewhat revolted at it and thought it "a bit too steep even for these +times." But he had plainly looked the whole situation in the face and +had made up his mind to do what he had done. He hadn't cared for +himself; he had only cared that the child who was to be born should be +his legitimatised successor and that there should remain after him a +Head of the House of Coombe. That such houses should have heads to +succeed to their dignities was a simple reverential belief of Dowie's +and--apart from all other feeling--the charge she had undertaken wore to +her somewhat the aspect of a religious duty. His lordship was as one who +had a place on a sort of altar. + +"It's because he's so high in his way that he can bear it," was her +thought. "He's so high that nothing upsets him. He's above +things--that's what he is." And there was something else too--something +she did not quite follow but felt vaguely moved by. What was happening +to England came into it--and something else that was connected with +himself in some way that was his own affair. In his long talk with her +he had said some strange things--though all in his own way. + +"Howsoever the tide of war turns, men and women will be needed as the +world never needed them before," was one of them. "This one small +unknown thing I want. It will be the child of my old age. I _want_ it. +Her whole being has been torn to pieces. Dr. Redcliff says that she +might have died before this if her delicate body had not been stronger +than it looks." + +"She has never been ill, my lord," Dowie had answered, "--but she is ill +now." + +"Save her--save _it_ for me," he broke out in a voice she had never +heard and with a face she had never seen. + +That in this plainly overwrought hour he should allow himself a moment +of forgetfulness drew him touchingly near to her. + +"My lord," she said, "I've watched over her since she was five. I know +the ways young things in her state need to have about them to give them +strength and help. Thank the Lord she's one of the loving ones and if we +can hold her until she--wakes up to natural feelings she'll begin to try +to live for the sake of what'll need her--and what's his as well as +hers." + +Of this she thought almost religiously as she sat by the bedside and +watched. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The doctor rode up the climbing moorland road the next morning and paid +a long visit to his patient. He was not portentous in manner and he did +not confine his conversation to the subject of symptoms. He however +included something of subtle cross examination in his friendly talk. The +girl's thinness, her sometimes panting breath and the hollow eyes made +larger by the black ring of her lashes startled him on first sight of +her. He found that the smallness of her appetite presented to Dowie a +grave problem. + +"I'm trying to coax good milk into her by degrees. She does her best. +But she can't eat." When they were alone she said, "I shall keep her +windows open and make her rest on her sofa near them. I shall try to get +her to walk out with me if her strength will let her. We can go slowly +and she'll like the moor. If we could stop the awful crying in the +night-- It's been shaking her to pieces for weeks and weeks-- It's the +kind that there's no checking when it once begins. It's beyond her poor +bit of strength to hold it back. I saw how hard she tried--for my sake. +It's the crying that's most dangerous of all." + +"Nothing could be worse," the doctor said and he went away with a grave +face, a deeply troubled man. + +When Dowie went back to the Tower room she found Robin standing at a +window looking out on the moorside. She turned and spoke and Dowie saw +that intuition had told her what had been talked about. + +"I will try to be good, Dowie," she said. "But it comes--it comes +because--suddenly I know all over again that I can never _see_ him any +more. If I could only _see_ him--even a long way off! But suddenly it +all comes back that I can never _see_ him again--Never!" + +Later she begged Dowie not to come to her in the night if she heard +sounds in her room. + +"It will not hurt you so much if you don't see me," she said. "I'm used +to being by myself. When I was at Eaton Square I used to hide my face +deep in the pillow and press it against my mouth. No one heard. But no +one was listening as you will be. Don't come in, Dowie darling. Please +don't!" + +All she wanted, Dowie found out as the days went by, was to be quiet and +to give no trouble. No other desires on earth had been left to her. Her +life had not taught her to want many things. And now--: + +"Oh! please don't be unhappy! If I could only keep you from being +unhappy--until it is over!" she broke out all unconsciously one day. And +then was smitten to the heart by the grief in Dowie's face. + +That was the worst of it all and sometimes caused Dowie's desperate hope +and courage to tremble on the brink of collapse. The child was thinking +that before her lay the time when it would be "all over." + +A patient who held to such thoughts as her hidden comfort did not give +herself much chance. + +Sometimes she lay for long hours on the sofa by the open window but +sometimes a restlessness came upon her and she wandered about the empty +rooms of the little castle as though she were vaguely searching for +something which was not there. Dowie furtively followed her at a +distance knowing that she wanted to be alone. The wide stretches of the +moor seemed to draw her. At times she stood gazing at them out of a +window, sometimes she sat in a deep window seat with her hands lying +listlessly upon her lap but with her eyes always resting on the farthest +line of the heather. Once she sat thus so long that Dowie crept out of +the empty stone chamber where she had been waiting and went and stood +behind her. At first Robin did not seem conscious of her presence but +presently she turned her head. There was a faintly bewildered look in +her eyes. + +"I don't know why--when I look at the edge where the hill seems to +end--it always seems as if there might be something coming from the +place we can't see--" she said in a helpless-sounding voice. "We can +only see the sky behind as if the world ended there. But I feel as if +something might be coming from the other side. The horizon always looks +like that--now. There must be so much--where there seems to be nothing +more. I want to go." + +She tried to smile a little as though at her own childish fancifulness +but suddenly a heavy shining tear fell on her hand. And her head dropped +and she murmured, "I'm sorry, Dowie," as if it were a fault. + +The Macaurs watched her from afar with their own special order of silent +interest. But the sight of the slowly flitting and each day frailer +young body began to move them even to the length of low-uttered +expression of fear and pity. + +"Some days she fair frights me passing by so slow and thin in her bit +black dress," Maggy said. "She minds me o' a lost birdie fluttering +about wi' a broken wing. She's gey young she is, to be a widow +woman--left like that." + +The doctor came up the moor road every day and talked more to Dowie than +to his patient. As the weeks went by he could not sanely be hopeful. +Dowie's brave face seemed to have lost some of its colour at times. She +asked eager questions but his answers did not teach her any new thing. +Yet he was of a modern school. + +"There was a time, Mrs. Dowson," he said, "when a doctor believed--or +thought he believed--that healing was carried in bottles. For thinking +men that time has passed. I know very little more of such a case as this +than you know yourself. You are practical and kind and watchful. You are +doing all that can be done. So am I. But I am sorry to say that it seems +as if only a sort of miracle--! If--as you said once--she would 'wake +up'--there would be an added chance." + +"Yes, sir," Dowie answered. "If she would. But it seems as if her mind +has stopped thinking about things that are to come. You see it in her +face. She can only remember. The days are nothing but dreams to her." + +Dowie had written weekly letters to Lord Coombe in accordance with his +request. She wrote a good clear hand and her method was as clear as her +calligraphy. He invariably gathered from her what he most desired to +know and learned that her courageous good sense was plainly to be +counted upon. From the first her respectful phrases had not attempted to +conceal from him the anxiety she had felt. + +"It was the way she looked and that I hadn't expected to see such a +change, that took the strength out of me the first time I saw her. And +what your lordship had told me. It seemed as if the two things together +were too much for her to face. I watch over her day and night though I +try to hide from her that I watch so close. If she could be made to eat +something, and to sleep, and not to break her little body to pieces with +those dreadful fits of crying, there would be something to hold on to. +But I shall hold on to her, my lord, whether there is anything to hold +on to or not." + +He knew she would hold on but as the weeks passed and she faithfully +told him what record the days held he saw that in each she felt that she +had less and less to grasp. And then came a letter which plainly could +not conceal ominous discouragement in the face of symptoms not to be +denied--increasing weakness, even more rapid loss of weight, and less +sleep and great exhaustion after the convulsions of grief. + +"It couldn't go on and not bring on the worst. It is my duty to warn +your lordship," the letter ended. + +For she had not "wakened up" though somehow Dowie had gone on from day +to day wistfully believing that it would be only "Nature" that she +should. Dowie had always believed strongly in "Nature." But at last +there grew within her mind the fearsome thought that somehow the very +look of her charge was the look of a young thing who had done with +Nature--and between whom and Nature the link had been broken. + +There were beginning to be young lambs on the hillside and Jock Macaur +was tending them and their mothers with careful shepherding. Once or +twice he brought a newborn and orphaned one home wrapped in his plaid +and it was kept warm by the kitchen fire and fed with milk by Maggy to +whom motherless lambs were an accustomed care. + +There was no lamb in his plaid on the afternoon when he startled Dowie +by suddenly appearing at the door of the room where she sat sewing-- It +was a thing which had never happened before. He had kept as closely to +his own part of the place as if there had been no means of egress from +the rooms he and Maggy lived in. His face sometimes wore an anxious look +when he brought back a half-dead lamb, and now though his plaid was +empty his weather-beaten countenance had trouble in it--so much trouble +that Dowie left her work quickly. + +"I was oot o' the moor and I heard a lamb cryin'," he said uncertainly. +"I thought it had lost its mither. It was cryin' pitifu'. I searched an' +couldna find it. But the cryin' went on. It was waur than a lamb's +cry--It was waur--" he spoke in reluctant jerks. "I followed until I +cam' to it. There was a cluster o' young rowans with broom and gorse +thick under them. The cryin' was there. It was na a lamb cryin'. It was +the young leddy--lyin' twisted on the heather. I daurna speak to her. It +was no place for a man body. I cam' awa' to ye, Mistress Dowson. You an' +Maggy maun go to her. I'll follow an' help to carry her back, if ye need +me." + +Dowie's colour left her. + +"I thought she was asleep on her bed," she said. "Sometimes she slips +away alone and wanders about a bit. But not far and I always follow her. +To-day I didn't know." + + * * * * * + +The sound like a lost lamb's crying had ceased when they reached her. +The worst was over but she lay on the heather shut in by the little +thicket of gorse and broom--white and with heavily closed lids. She had +not wandered far and had plainly crept into the enclosing growth for +utter seclusion. Finding it she had lost hold and been overwhelmed. That +was all. But as Jock Macaur carried her back to Darreuch, Dowie followed +with slow heavy feet and heart. They took her to the Tower room and laid +her on her sofa because she had faintly whispered. + +"Please let me lie by the window," as they mounted the stone stairs. + +"Open it wide," she whispered again when Macaur had left them alone. + +"Are you--are you short of breath, my dear?" Dowie asked opening the +window very wide indeed. + +"No," still in a whisper and with closed eyes. "But--when I am not so +tired--I want to--look--" + +She was silent for a few moments and Dowie stood by her side and watched +her. + +"--At the end of the heather," the faint voice ended its sentence after +a pause. "I feel as if--something is there." She opened her eyes, +"Something--I don't know what. 'Something.' Dowie!" frightened, "Are +you--crying?" + +Dowie frankly and helplessly took out a handkerchief and sat down beside +her. She had never done such a thing before. + +"You cry yourself, my lamb," she said. "Let Dowie cry a bit." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +And the next morning came the "waking up" for which Dowie had so long +waited and prayed. But not as Dowie had expected it or in the way she +hard thought "Nature." + +She had scarcely left her charge during the night though she had +pretended that she had slept as usual in an adjoining room. She stole in +and out, she sat by the bed and watched the face on the pillow and +thanked God that--strangely enough--the child slept. She had not dared +to hope that she would sleep, but before midnight she became still and +fell into a deep quiet slumber. It seemed deep, for she ceased to stir +and it was so quiet that once or twice Dowie became a little anxious and +bent over her to look at her closely and listen to her breathing. But, +though the small white face was always a touching sight, it was no +whiter than usual and her breathing though low and very soft was +regular. + +"But where the strength's to come from the good God alone knows!" was +Dowie's inward sigh. + +The clock had just struck one when she leaned forward again. What she +saw would not have disturbed her if she had not been overstrung by long +anxiety. But now--after the woeful day--in the middle of the night with +the echo of the clock's solitary sound still in the solitary room--in +the utter stillness of moor and castle emptiness she was startled almost +to fright. Something had happened to the pitiful face. A change had come +over it--not a change which had stolen gradually but a change which was +actually sudden. It was smiling--it had begun to smile that pretty smile +which was a very gift of God in itself. + +Dowie drew back and put her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she said "Can she +be--going--in her sleep?" + +But she was not going. Even Dowie's fright saw that in a few moments +more. Was it possible that a mist of colour was stealing over the +whiteness--or something near colour? Was the smile deepening and growing +brighter? Was that caught breath something almost like a little sob of a +laugh--a tiny ghost of a sound more like a laugh than any other sound on +earth? + +Dowie slid down upon her knees and prayed devoutly--clutching at the +robe of pity and holding hard--as women did in crowds nearly two +thousand years ago. + +"Oh, Lord Jesus," she was breathing behind the hands which hid her +face--"if she can dream what makes her smile like that, let her go on, +Lord Jesus--let her go on." + +When she rose to her chair again and seated herself to watch it almost +awed, it did not fade--the smile. It settled into a still radiance and +stayed. And, fearful of the self-deception of longing as she was, Dowie +could have sworn as the minutes passed that the mist of colour had been +real and remained also and even made the whiteness a less deathly thing. +And there was such a naturalness in the strange smiling that it radiated +actual peace and rest and safety. When the clock struck three and there +was no change and still the small face lay happy upon the pillow Dowie +at last even felt that she dare steal into her own room and lie down for +a short rest. She went very shortly thinking she would return in half an +hour at most, but the moment she lay down, her tired eyelids dropped and +she slept as she had not slept since her first night at Darreuch Castle. + + * * * * * + +When she wakened it was not with a start or sense of anxiety even +though she found herself sitting up in the broad morning light. She +wondered at her own sense of being rested and really not afraid. She +told herself that it was all because of the smile she had left on +Robin's face and remembered as her own eyes closed. + +She got up and stole to the partly opened door of the next room and +looked in. All was quite still. Robin herself seemed very still but she +was awake. She lay upon her pillow with a long curly plait trailing over +one shoulder--and she was smiling as she had smiled in her +sleep--softly--wonderfully. "I thank God for that," Dowie thought as she +went in. + +The next moment her heart was in her throat. + +"Dowie," Robin said and she spoke as quietly as Dowie had ever heard her +speak in all their life together, "Donal came." + +"Did he, my lamb?" said Dowie going to her quickly but trying to speak +as naturally herself. "In a dream?" + +Robin slowly shook her head. + +"I don't think it was a dream. It wasn't like one. I think he was here. +God sometimes lets them come--just sometimes--doesn't he? Since the War +there have been so many stories about things like that. People used to +come to see the Duchess and sit and whisper about them. Lady Maureen +Darcy used to go to a place where there was a woman--quite a poor +woman--who went into a kind of sleep and gave her messages from her +husband who was killed at Liege only a few weeks after they were +married. The woman said he was in the room and Lady Maureen was quite +sure it was true because he told her true things no one knew but +themselves. She said it kept her from going crazy. It made her quite +happy." + +"I've heard of such things," said Dowie, valiantly determined to keep +her voice steady and her expression unalarmed. "Perhaps they are true. +Now that the other world is so crowded with those that found themselves +there sudden--perhaps they are crowded so close to earth that they try +to speak across to the ones that are longing to hear them. It might be. +Lie still, my dear, and I'll bring you a cup of good hot milk to drink. +Do you think you could eat a new-laid egg and a shred of toast?" + +"I will," answered Robin. "I _will_." + +She sat up in bed and the faint colour on her cheeks deepened and spread +like a rosy dawn. Dowie saw it and tried not to stare. She must not seem +to watch her too fixedly--whatsoever alarming thing was happening. + +"I can't tell you all he said to me," she went on softly. "There was too +much that only belonged to us. He stayed a long time. I felt his arms +holding me. I looked into the blue of his eyes--just as I always did. He +was not dead. He was not an angel. He was Donal. He laughed and made me +laugh too. He could not tell me now where he was. There was a reason. +But he said he could come because we belonged to each other--because we +loved each other so. He said beautiful things to me--" She began to +speak very slowly as if in careful retrospection. "Some of them were +like the things Lord Coombe said. But when Donal said them they seemed +to go into my heart and I understood them. He told me things about +England--needing new souls and new strong bodies--he loved England. He +said beautiful--beautiful things." + +Dowie made a magnificent effort to keep her eyes clear and her look +straight. It was a soldierly thing to do, for there had leaped into her +mind memories of the fears of the great physician who had taken charge +of poor young Lady Maureen. + +"I am sure he would do that--sure of it," she said without a tremor in +her voice. "It's only things like that he's thought of his whole life +through. And surely it was love that brought him back to you--both." + +She wondered if she was not cautious enough in saying the last word. But +her fear was a mistake. + +"Yes--_both_," Robin gave back with a new high bravery. "Both," she +repeated. "He will never be dead again. And I shall never be dead. When +I could not think, it used to seem as if I must be--perhaps I was +beginning to go crazy like poor Lady Maureen. I have come alive." + +"Yes, my lamb," answered Dowie with fine courage. "You look it. We'll +get you ready for your breakfast now. I will bring you the egg and +toast--a nice crisp bit of hot buttered toast." + +"Yes," said Robin. "He said he would come again and I know he will." + +Dowie bustled about with inward trembling. Whatsoever strange thing had +happened perhaps it had awakened the stunned instinct in the +girl--perhaps some change had begun to take place and she _would_ eat +the bit of food. That would be sane and healthy enough in any case. The +test would be the egg and the crisp toast--the real test. Sometimes a +patient had a moment of uplift and then it died out too quickly to do +good. + +But when she had been made ready and the tray was brought Robin ate the +small breakfast without shrinking from it, and the slight colour did not +die away from her cheek. The lost look was in her eyes no more, her +voice had a new tone. The exhaustion of the night before seemed +mysteriously to have disappeared. Her voice was not tired and she +herself was curiously less languid. Dowie could scarcely believe the +evidence of her ears when, in the course of the morning, she suggested +that they should go out together. + +"The moor is beautiful to-day," she said. "I want to know it better. It +seems as if I had never really looked at anything." + +One of the chief difficulties Dowie often found she was called upon to +brace herself to bear was that in these days she looked so pathetically +like a child. Her small heart-shaped face had always been rather like a +baby's, but in these months of her tragedy, her youngness at times +seemed almost cruel. If she had been ten years old she could scarcely +have presented herself to the mature vision as a more touching thing. It +seemed incredible to Dowie that she should have so much of life and +suffering behind and before her and yet look like that. It was not only +the soft curve and droop of her mouth and the lift of her eyes--there +was added to these something as indescribable as it was heart-moving. It +was the thing before which Donal--boy as he was--had trembled with love +and joy. He had felt its tenderest sacredness when he had knelt before +her in the Wood and kissed her feet, almost afraid of his own voice when +he poured forth his pleading. There were times when Dowie was obliged to +hold herself still for a moment or so lest it should break down her +determined calm. + +It was to be faced this morning when Robin came down in her soft felt +hat and short tweed skirt and coat for walking. Dowie saw Mrs. Macaur +staring through a window at her, with slightly open mouth, as if +suddenly struck with amazement which held in it a touch of shock. Dowie +herself was obliged to make an affectionate joke. + +"Your short skirts make such a child of you that I feel as if I was +taking you out to walk in the park, and I must hold your hand," she +said. + +Robin glanced down at herself. + +"They do make people look young," she agreed. "The Lady Downstairs +looked quite like a little girl when she went out in them. But it seems +so long since I was little." + + * * * * * + +She walked with Dowie bravely though they did not go far from the +Castle. It happened that they met the doctor driving up the road which +twisted in and out among the heath and gorse. For a moment he looked +startled but he managed to control himself quickly and left his dogcart +to his groom so that he might walk with them. His eyes--at once grave +and keen--scarcely left her as he strolled by her side. + +When they reached the Castle he took Dowie aside and talked anxiously +with her. + +"There is a change," he said. "Has anything happened which might have +raised her spirits? It looks like that kind of thing. She mustn't do too +much. There is always that danger to guard against in a case of sudden +mental stimulation." + +"She had a dream last night," Dowie began. + +"A dream!" he exclaimed disturbedly. "What kind of dream?" + +"The dream did it. I saw the change the minute I went to her this +morning," Dowie answered. "Last night she looked like a dying +thing--after one of her worst breakdowns. This morning she lay there +peaceful and smiling and almost rosy. She had dreamed that she saw her +husband and talked to him. She believed it wasn't a common dream--that +it wasn't a dream at all. She believes he really came to her." + +Doctor Benton rubbed his chin and there was serious anxiety in the +movement. Lines marked themselves on his forehead. + +"I am not sure I like that--not at all sure. In fact I'm sure I don't +like it. One can't say what it may lead to. It would be better not to +encourage her to dwell on it, Mrs. Dowson." + +"The one thing that's in my mind, sir," Dowie's respectfulness actually +went to the length of hinting at firmness--"is that it's best not to +_dis_courage her about anything just now. It brought a bit of natural +colour to her cheeks and it made her eat her breakfast--which she hasn't +been able to do before. They _must_ be fed, sir," with the seriousness +of experience. "You know that better than I do." + +"Yes--yes. They must have food." + +"She suggested the going out herself," said Dowie. "I'd thought she'd be +too weak and listless to move. And they _ought_ to have exercise." + +"They _must_ have exercise," agreed Doctor Benton, but he still rubbed +his chin. "Did she seem excited or feverish?" + +"No, sir, she didn't. That was the strange thing. It was me that was +excited though I kept quiet on the outside. At first it frightened me. I +was afraid of--what you're afraid of, sir. It was only her _not_ being +excited--and speaking in her own natural voice that helped me to behave +as sense told me I ought to. She was _happy_--that's what she looked and +what she was." + +She stopped a moment here and looked at the man. Then she decided to go +on because she saw chances that he might, to a certain degree, +understand. + +"When she told me that he was not dead when she saw him, she said that +she was not dead any more herself--that she had come alive. If believing +it will keep her feeling alive, sir, wouldn't you say it would be a +help?" + +The Doctor had ceased rubbing his chin but he looked deeply thoughtful. +He had several reasons for thoughtfulness in connection with the matter. +In the present whirl of strange happenings in a mad war-torn world, +circumstances which would once have seemed singular seemed so no longer +because nothing was any longer normal. He realised that he had been by +no means told all the details surrounding this special case, but he had +understood clearly that it was of serious importance that this girlish +creature's child should be preserved. He wondered how much more the +finely mannered old family nurse knew than he did. + +"Her vitality must be kept up-- Nothing could be worse than inordinate +grief," he said. "We must not lose any advantage. But she must be +closely watched." + +"I'll watch her, sir," answered Dowie. "And every order you give I'll +obey like clockwork. Might I take the liberty of saying that I believe +it'll be best if you don't mention the dream to her!" + +"Perhaps you are right. On the whole I think you are. It's not wise to +pay attention to hallucinations." + +He did not mention the dream to Robin, but his visit was longer than +usual. After it he drove down the moor thinking of curious things. The +agonised tension of the war, he told himself, seemed to be developing +new phases--mental, nervous, psychic, as well as physiological. What +unreality--or previously unknown reality--were they founded upon? It was +curious how much one had begun to hear of telepathy and visions. He +himself had been among the many who had discussed the psychopathic +condition of Lady Maureen Darcy, whose black melancholia had been +dispersed like a cloud after her visits to a little sewing woman who +lived over an oil dealer's shop in the Seven Sisters Road. He also was a +war tortured man mentally and the torments he must conceal beneath a +steady professional calm had loosened old shackles. + +"Good God! If there is help of any sort for such horrors of despair let +them take it where they find it," he found himself saying aloud to the +emptiness of the stretches of heath and bracken. "The old nurse will +watch." + + * * * * * + +Dowie watched faithfully. She did not speak of the dream, but as she +went about doing kindly and curiously wise things she never lost sight +of any mood or expression of Robin's and they were all changed ones. On +the night after she had "come alive" they talked together in the Tower +room somewhat as they had talked on the night of their arrival. + +A wind was blowing on the moor and making strange sounds as it whirled +round the towers and seemed to cry at the narrow windows. By the fire +there was drawn a broad low couch heaped with large cushions, and Robin +lay upon them looking into the red hollow of coal. + +"You told me I had something to think of," she said. "I am thinking now. +I shall always be thinking." + +"That's right, my dear," Dowie answered her with sane kindliness. + +"I will do everything you tell me, Dowie. I will not cry any more and I +will eat what you ask me to eat. I will sleep as much as I can and I +will walk every day. Then I shall get strong." + +"That's the way to look at things. It's a brave way," Dowie answered. +"What we want most is strength and good spirits, my dear." + +"That was one of the things Donal said," Robin went on quite naturally +and simply. "He told me I need not be ill. He said a rose was not ill +when a new bud was blooming on it. That was one of the lovely things he +told me. There were so many." + +"It was a beautiful thing, to be sure," said Dowie. + +To her wholly untranscendental mind, long trained by patent facts and +duties, any suggestion of the occult was vaguely ominous. She had spent +her early years among people who regarded such things with terror. In +the stories of her youth those who saw visions usually died or met with +calamity. That their visions were, as a rule, gruesome and included pale +and ghastly faces and voices hollow with portent was now a supporting +recollection. "He was not dead. He was not an angel. He was Donal," +Robin had said in her undoubting voice. And she had stood the test--that +real test of earthly egg and buttered toast. Dowie was a sensible and +experienced creature and had been prepared before the doctor's +suggestion to lose no advantage. If the child began to sleep and eat her +food, and the fits of crying could be controlled, why should she not be +allowed to believe what supported her? When her baby came she'd forget +less natural things. Dowie knew how her eyes would look as she bent over +it--how they would melt and glow and brood and how her childish mouth +would quiver with wonder and love. Who knew but that the Lord himself +had sent her that dream to comfort her because she had always been such +a loving, lonely little thing with nothing but tender goodness in her +whole body and soul? She had never had an untender thought of anybody +but for that queer dislike to his lordship-- And when you came to think +of what had been forced into her innocent mind about him, who +wondered?-- And she was beginning to see that differently too, in these +strange days. She was nothing now but softness and sorrow. It seemed +only right that some pity should be shown to her. + +Dowie noticed that she did not stay up late that night and that when she +went to bed she knelt a long time by her bedside saying her prayers. Oh! +What a little girl she looked, Dowie thought,--in her white night gown +with her long curly plait hanging down her back tied with a blue ribbon! +And she to be the mother of a child--that was no more than one herself! + +When all the prayers were ended and Dowie came back to the room to tuck +her in, her face was marvellously still-looking and somehow remotely +sweet as if she had not quite returned from some place of wonderful +calm. + +She nestled into the softness of the pillow with her hand under her +cheek and her lids dropped quietly at once. + +"Good night, Dowie dear," she murmured. "I am going to sleep." + +To sleep in a moment or so Dowie saw she went--with the soft suddenness +of a baby in its cradle. + +But it could not be said that Dowie slept soon. She found herself lying +awake listening to the wind whirling and crying round the tower. The +sound had something painfully human in it which made her conscious of a +shivering inward tremor. + +"It sounds as if something--that has been hurt and is cold and lonely +wants to get in where things are human and warm," was her troubled +thought. + +It was a thought so troubled that she could not rest and in spite of her +efforts to lie still she turned from side to side listening in an +abnormal mood. + +"I'm foolish," she whispered. "If I don't get hold of myself I shall +lose my senses. I don't feel like myself. Would it be too silly if I got +up and opened a tower window?" + +She actually got out of her bed quietly and crept to the tower room and +opened one. The crying wind rushed in and past her with a soft cold +sweep. It was not a bitter wind, only a piteous one. + +"It's--it's come in," she said, quaking a little, and went back to her +bed. + +When she awakened in the morning she realised that she must have fallen +asleep as quickly as Robin had, for she remembered nothing after her +head had touched the pillow. The wind had ceased and the daylight found +her herself again. + +"It was silly," she said, "but it did something for me as silliness will +sometimes. Walls and shut windows are nothing to them. If he came, he +came without my help. But it pacified the foolish part of me." + +She went into Robin's room with a sense of holding her breath, but firm +in her determination to breathe and speak as a matter of fact woman +should. + +Robin was standing at her window already dressed in the short skirt and +soft hat. She turned and showed that her thin small face was radiant. + +"I have been out on the moor. I wakened just after sunrise, and I heard +a skylark singing high up in the sky. I went out to listen and say my +prayers," she said. "You don't know what the moor is like, Dowie, until +you stand out on it at sunrise." + +She met Dowie's approach half way and slipped her arms round her neck +and kissed her several times. Dowie had for a moment quailed before a +thought that she looked too much like a young angel, but her arms held +close and her kisses were warm and human. + +"Well, well!" Dowie's pats on her shoulder took courage. "That's a good +sign--to get up and dress yourself and go into the open air. It would +give you an appetite if anything would." + +"Perhaps I can eat two eggs this morning," with a pretty laugh. +"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" and she took off her hat and laid it aside +on the lounge as if she meant to go out again soon. + +Dowie tried not to watch her too obviously, but she could scarcely keep +her eyes from her. She knew that she must not ask her questions at the +risk of "losing an advantage." She had, in fact, never been one of the +women who must ask questions. There was however something eerie in +remembering her queer feeling about the crying of the wind, silly though +she had decided it to be, and something which made it difficult to go +about all day knowing nothing but seeing strange signs. She had been +more afraid for Robin than she would have admitted even to herself. And +when the girl sat down at the table by the window overlooking the moor +and ate her breakfast without effort or distaste, it was far from easy +to look quite as if she had been doing it every morning. + +Then there was the look in her eyes, as if she was either listening to +something or remembering it. She went out twice during the day and she +carried it with her even when she talked of other things. Dowie saw it +specially when she lay down on the big lounge to rest. But she did not +lie down often or long at a time. It was as though she was no longer +unnaturally tired and languid. She did little things for herself, moving +about naturally, and she was pleased when a messenger brought flowers, +explaining that his lordship had ordered that they should be sent every +other day from the nearest town. She spent an hour filling crystal bowls +and clear slim vases with them and the look never left her. + +But she said nothing until she went out with Dowie at sunset. They only +walked for a short time and they did not keep to the road but went on to +the moor itself and walked among the heath and bracken. After a little +while they sat down and gave themselves up to the vast silence with here +and there the last evening twitter of a bird in it. The note made the +stillness greater. The flame of the sky was beyond compare and, after +gazing at it for a while, Dowie turned a slow furtive look on Robin. + +But Robin was looking at her with clear soft naturalness--loving and +untroubled and kindly sweet. + +"He came back, Dowie. He came again," she said. And her voice was still +as natural as the good woman had ever known it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + + +But even after this Dowie did not ask questions. She only watched more +carefully and waited to be told what the depths of her being most +yearned to hear. The gradually founded belief of her careful prosaic +life prevented ease of mind or a sense of security. She could not be +certain that it would be the part of wisdom to allow herself to feel +secure. She did not wish to arouse Doctor Benton's professional anxiety +by asking questions about Lady Maureen Darcy, but, by a clever and +adroitly gradual system of what was really cross examination which did +not involve actual questions, she drew from him the name of the woman +who had been Lady Maureen's chief nurse when the worst seemed impending. +It was by fortunate chance the name of a woman she had once known well +during a case of dangerous illness in an important household. She +herself had had charge of the nursery and Nurse Darian had liked her +because she had proved prompt and intelligent in an alarming crisis. +They had become friends and Dowie knew she might write to her and ask +for information and advice. She wrote a careful respectful letter which +revealed nothing but that she was anxious about a case she had temporary +charge of. She managed to have the letter posted in London and the +answer forwarded to her from there. Nurse Darian's reply was generously +full for a hard-working woman. It answered questions and was friendly. +But the woman's war work had plainly led her to see and reflect upon the +opening up of new and singular vistas. + +"What we hear oftenest is that the whole world is somehow changing," she +ended by saying. "You hear it so often that you get tired. But something +_is_ happening--something strange-- Even the doctors find themselves +facing things medical science does not explain. They don't like it. I +sometimes think doctors hate change more than anybody. But the +cleverest and biggest ones talk together. It's this looking at a thing +lying on a bed alive and talking perhaps, one minute--and _gone out_ the +next, that sets you asking yourself questions. In these days a nurse +seems to see nothing else day and night. You can't make yourself believe +they have gone far-- And when you keep hearing stories about them coming +back--knocking on tables, writing on queer boards--just any way so that +they can get at those they belong to--! Well, I shouldn't be sure myself +that a comforting dream means that a girl's mind's giving away. Of +course a nurse is obliged to watch--But Lady Maureen found +_something_--And she _was_ going mad and now she is as sane as I am." + +Dowie was vaguely supported because the woman was an intelligent person +and knew her business thoroughly. Nevertheless one must train one's eyes +to observe everything without seeming to do so at all. + +Every morning when the weather was fine Robin got up early and went out +on the moor to say her prayers and listen to the skylarks singing. + +"When I stand and turn my face up to the sky--and watch one going higher +into heaven--and singing all the time without stopping," she said, "I +feel as if the singing were carrying what I want to say with it. +Sometimes he goes so high that you can't see him any more-- He's not +even a little speck in the highest sky-- Then I think perhaps he has +gone in and taken my prayer with him. But he always comes back. And +perhaps if I could understand he could tell me what the answer is." + +She ate her breakfast each day and was sweetly faithful to her promise +to Dowie in every detail. Dowie used to think that she was like a child +who wanted very much to learn her lesson well and follow every rule. + +"I want to be good, Dowie," she said once. "I should like to be very +good. I am so _grateful_." + +Doctor Benton driving up the moor road for his daily visits made careful +observation of every detail of her case and pondered in secret. The +alarming thinness and sharpening of the delicate features was he saw, +actually becoming less marked day by day; the transparent hands were +less transparent; the movements were no longer languid. + +"She spends most of the day out of doors when the weather's decent," +Dowie said. "She eats what I give her. And she sleeps." + +Doctor Benton asked many questions and the answers given seemed to +provide him with food for reflection. + +"Has she spoken of having had the dream again?" he inquired at last. + +"Yes, sir," was Dowie's brief reply. + +"Did she say it was the same dream?" + +"She told me her husband had come back. She said nothing more." + +"Has she told you that more than once?" + +"No, sir. Only once so far." + +Doctor Benton looked at the sensible face very hard. He hesitated before +he put his next question. + +"But you think she has seen him since she spoke to you? You feel that +she might speak of it again--at almost any time?" + +"She might, sir, and she might not. It may seem like a sacred thing to +her. And it's no business of mine to ask her about things she'd perhaps +rather not talk about." + +"Do you think that she believes that she sees her husband every night?" + +"I don't know _what_ I think, sir," said Dowie in honourable distress. + +"Well neither do I for that matter," Benton answered brusquely. "Neither +do thousands of other people who want to be honest with themselves. +Physically the effect of this abnormal fancy is excellent. If this goes +on she will end by being in a perfectly normal condition." + +"That's what I'm working for, sir," said Dowie. + +Whereupon Dr. Benton went away and thought still stranger and deeper +things as he drove home over the moor road which twisted through the +heather. + + * * * * * + +The next day's post delivered by Macaur himself brought as it did weekly +a package of books and carefully chosen periodicals. Robin had, before +this, not been equal even to looking them over and Dowie had arranged +them neatly on shelves in the Tower room. + +To-day when the package was opened Robin sat down near the table on +which they were placed and began to look at them. + +Out of the corner of her eye as she arranged books decorously on a shelf +Dowie saw the still transparent hand open first one book and then +another. At last it paused at a delicately coloured pamphlet. It was the +last alluring note of modern advertisement, sent out by a firm which +made a specialty of children's outfits and belongings. It came from an +elect and expensive shop which prided itself on its dainty presentation +of small beings attired in entrancing garments such as might have been +designed for fairies and elves. + +"If she begins to turn over the pages she'll go on. It'll be just +Nature," Dowie yearned. + +The awakening she had thought Nature would bring about was not like the +perilous miracle she had seen take place and had watched tremulously +from hour to hour. Dreams, however much one had to thank God for them, +were not exactly "Nature." They were not the blessed healing and +strengthening she felt familiar with. You were never sure when they +might melt away into space and leave only emptiness behind them. + +"But if she would wake up the other way it would be healthy--just +healthy and to be depended upon," was her thought. Robin turned over the +leaves in no hurried way. She had never carelessly turned over the +leaves of her picture books in her nursery. As she had looked at her +picture books she looked at this one. There were pages given to the +tiniest and most exquisite things of all, and it was the illustrations +of these, Dowie's careful sidelong eye saw she had first been attracted +by. + +"These are for very little--ones?" she said presently. + +"Yes. For the new ones," answered Dowie. + +There was moment or so of silence. + +"How little--how little!" Robin said softly. She rose softly and went to +her couch and lay down on it. She was very quiet and Dowie wondered if +she were thinking or if she were falling into a doze. She wished she had +looked at the pamphlet longer. As the weeks had gone by Dowie had even +secretly grieved a little at her seeming unconsciousness of certain +tender things. If she had only looked at it a little longer. + + * * * * * + +"Was there a sound of movement in the next room?" + +The thought awakened Dowie in the night. She did not know what the hour +was, but she was sure of the sound as soon as she was fully awake. Robin +had got up and was crossing the corridor to the Tower room. + +"Does she want something? What could she want? I must go to her." + +She must never quite lose sight of her or let her be entirely out of +hearing. Perhaps she was walking in her sleep. Perhaps the dream-- Dowie +was a little awed. Was he with her? In obedience to a weird impulse she +always opened a window in the Tower room every night before going to +bed. She had left it open to-night. + +It was still open when she entered the room herself. + +There was nothing unusual in the aspect of the place but that Robin was +there and it was just midnight. She was not walking in her sleep. She +was awake and standing by the table with the pamphlet in her hand. + +"I couldn't go to sleep," she said. "I kept thinking of the little +things in this book. I kept seeing them." + +"That's quite natural," Dowie answered. "Sit down and look at them a +bit. That'll satisfy you and you'll sleep easy enough. I must shut the +window for you." + +She shut the window and moved a book or so as if such things were +usually done at midnight. She went about in a quiet matter-of-fact way +which was even gentler than her customary gentleness because in these +days, while trying to preserve a quite ordinary demeanour, she felt as +though she must move as one would move in making sure that one would not +startle a bird one loved. + +Robin sat and looked at the pictures. When she turned a page and looked +at it she turned it again and looked at it with dwelling eyes. Presently +she ceased turning pages and sat still with the book open on her lap as +if she were thinking not only of what she held but of something else. + +When her eyes lifted to meet Dowie's there was a troubled wondering look +in them. + +"It's so strange--I never seemed to think of it before," the words came +slowly. "I forgot because I was always--remembering." + +"You'll think now," Dowie answered. "It's only Nature." + +"Yes--it's only Nature." + +The touch of her hand on the pamphlet was a sort of caress--it was a +touch which clung. + +"Dowie," timidly. "I want to begin to make some little clothes like +these. Do you think I can?" + +"Well, my dear," answered Dowie composedly--no less so because it was +past midnight and the stillness of moor and deserted castle rooms was +like a presence in itself. "I taught you to sew very neatly before you +were twelve. You liked to do it and you learned to make beautiful small +stitches. And Mademoiselle taught you to do fine embroidery. She'd +learned it in a convent herself and I never saw finer work anywhere." + +"I did like to do it," said Robin. "I never seemed to get tired of +sitting in my little chair in the bay window where the flowers grew, and +making tiny stitches." + +"You had a gift for it. Not all girls have," said Dowie. "Sometimes when +you were embroidering a flower you didn't want to leave it to take your +walk." + +"I am glad I had a gift," Robin took her up. "You see I want to make +these little things with my own hands. I don't want them sent up from +London. I don't want them bought. Look at this, Dowie." + +Dowie went to her side. Her heart was quickening happily as it beat. + +Robin touched a design with her finger. + +"I should like to begin by making that," she suggested. "Do you think +that if I bought one for a pattern I could copy it?" + +Dowie studied it with care. + +"Yes," she said. "You could copy it and make as many more as you liked. +They need a good many." + +"I am glad of that," said Robin. "I should like to make a great many." +The slim fingers slid over the page. "I should like to make that +one--and that--and that." Her face, bent over the picture, wore its +touching _young_ look thrilled with something new. "They are so +_pretty_--they are so pretty," she murmured like a dove. + +"They're the prettiest things in the world," Dowie said. "There never +was anything prettier." + +"It must be wonderful to make them and to know all the time you are +putting in the tiny stitches, that they are for something little--and +warm--and alive!" + +"Those that have done it never forget it," said Dowie. Robin lifted her +face, but her hands still held the book with the touch which clung. + +"I am beginning to realise what a strange life mine has been," she said. +"Don't you think it has, Dowie? I haven't known things. I didn't know +what mothers were. I never knew another child until I met Donal in the +Gardens. No one had ever kissed me until he did. When I was older I +didn't know anything about love and marrying--really. It seemed only +something one read about in books until Donal came. You and Mademoiselle +made me happy, but I was like a little nun." She paused a moment and +then said thoughtfully, "Do you know, Dowie, I have never touched a +baby?" + +"I never thought of it before," Dowie answered with a slightly caught +breath, "but I believe you never have." + +The girl leaned forward and her own light breath came a shade more +quickly, and the faint colour on her cheek flickered into a sweeter warm +tone. + +"Are they very soft, Dowie?" she asked--and the asking was actually a +wistful thing. "When you hold them do they feel very light--and +soft--and warm? When you kiss them isn't it something like kissing a +little flower?" + +"That's what it is," said Dowie firmly as one who knows. "A baby that's +loved and taken care of is just nothing but fine soft lawns and white +downiness with the scent of fresh violets under leaves in the rain." + +A vaguely dreamy smile touched Robin's face and she bent over the +pictures again. + +"I felt as if they must be like that though I had never held one," she +murmured. "And Donal--told me." She did not say when he had told her but +Dowie knew. And unearthly as the thing was, regarded from her +standpoint, she was not frightened, because she said mentally to +herself, what was happening was downright healthy and no harm could come +of it. She felt safe and her mind was at ease even when Robin shut the +little book and placed it on the table again. + +"I'll go to bed again," she said. "I shall sleep now." + +"To be sure you will," Dowie said. + +And they went out of the Tower room together, but before she followed +her Dowie slipped aside and quietly opened the window. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + + +Coombe House had been transformed into one of the most practical nursing +homes in London. The celebrated ballroom and picture gallery were filled +with cots; a spacious bedroom had become a perfectly equipped operating +room; nurses and doctors moved everywhere with quiet swiftness. Things +were said to be marvellously well done because Lord Coombe himself held +reins which diplomatically guided and restrained amateurishness and +emotional infelicities. + +He spent most of his time, when he was in the house, in the room on the +entrance floor where Mademoiselle had found him when she had come to him +in her search for Robin. + +He had faced ghastly hours there as the war news struck its hideous +variant note from day to day. Every sound which rolled through the +street had its meaning for him, and there were few which were not +terrible. They all meant inhuman struggle, inhuman suffering, inhuman +passions, and wounds or death. He carried an unmoved face and a +well-held head through the crowded thoroughfares. The men in the cots in +his picture gallery and his ballroom were the better for the outward +calm he brought when he sat and talked to them, but he often hid a mad +fury in his breast or a heavy and sick fatigue. + +Even in London a man saw and heard and was able, if he had an +imagination, to visualise too much to remain quite normal. He had seen +what was left of strong men brought back from the Front, men who could +scarcely longer be counted as really living human beings; he had talked +to men on leave who had a hideous hardness in their haggard eyes and who +did not know that they gnawed at their lips sometimes as they told the +things they had seen. He saw the people going into the churches and +chapels. He sometimes went into such places himself and he always found +there huddled forms kneeling in the pews, even when no service was being +held. Sometimes they were men, sometimes women, and often they writhed +and sobbed horribly. He did not know why he went in; his going seemed +only part of some surging misery. + +He heard weird stories again and again of occult happenings. He had been +told all the details of Lady Maureen's case and of a number of other +cases somewhat resembling it. He was of those who have advanced through +experience to the point where entire disbelief in anything is not easy. +This was the more so because almost all previously accepted laws had +been shaken as by an earthquake. He had fallen upon a new sort of book +drifting about. He had had such books put into his hands by +acquaintances, some of whom were of the impressionable hysteric order, +but many of whom were as analytically minded as himself. He found much +of such literature in the book shops. He began to look over the best +written and ended by reading them with deep attention. He was amazed to +discover that for many years profoundly scientific men had been +seriously investigating and experimenting with mysteries unexplainable +by the accepted laws of material science. They had discussed, argued and +written grave books upon them. They had been doing all this before any +society for psychical research had founded itself and the intention of +new logic was to be scientific rather than psychological. They had +written books, scattered through the years, on mesmerism, hypnosis, +abnormal mental conditions, the powers of suggestion, even unexplored +dimensions and in modern days psychotherapeutics. + +"What has amazed me is my own ignorance of the prolonged and serious +nature of the investigation of an astonishing subject," he said in +talking with the Duchess. "To realise that analytical minds have been +doing grave work of which one has known nothing is an actual shock to +one's pride. I suppose the tendency would have been to pooh-pooh it. The +cheap, modern popular form is often fantastic and crude, but there +remains the fact that it all contains truths not to be explained by the +rules we have always been familiar with." + +The Duchess had read the book he had brought her and held it in her +hands. + +"Perhaps the time has come, in which we are to learn the new ones," she +said. + +"Perhaps we are being forced to learn them--as a result of our +pooh-poohing," was his answer. "Some of us may learn that clear-cut +disbelief is at least indiscreet." + +Therefore upon a certain morning he sat long in reflection over a letter +which had arrived from Dowie. He read it a number of times. + + * * * * * + +"I don't know what your lordship may think," Dowie said and he felt she +held herself with a tight rein. "If I may say so, it's what's going to +come out of it that matters and not what any of us think of it. So far +it seems as if a miracle had happened. About a week ago she wakened in +the morning looking as I'd been afraid she'd never look again. There was +actually colour in her thin little face that almost made it look not so +thin. There was a light in her eyes that quite startled me. She lay on +her bed and smiled like a child that's suddenly put out of pain. She +said--quite quiet and natural--that she'd seen her husband. She said he +had _come_ and talked to her a long time and that it was not a dream, +and he was not an angel--he was himself. At first I was terrified by a +dreadful thought that her poor young mind had given way. But she had no +fever and she was as sweet and sensible as if she was talking to her +Dowie in her own nursery. And, my lord, this is what does matter. She +sat up and _ate her breakfast_ and said she would take a walk with me. +And walk she did--stronger and better than I'd have believed. She had a +cup of tea and a glass of milk and a fresh egg and a slice of hot +buttered toast. That's what I hold on to, my lord--without any thinking. +I daren't write about it at first because I didn't trust it to last. But +she has wakened in the same way every morning since. And she's eaten the +bits of nice meals I've put before her. I've been careful not to put her +appetite off by giving her more than a little at a time. And she's slept +like a baby and walked every day. I believe she thinks she sees Captain +Muir every night. I wouldn't ask questions, but she spoke of it once +again to me. + +"Your obedient servant, +SARAH ANN DOWSON." + +Lord Coombe sat in interested reflection. He felt curiously uplifted +above the rolling sounds in the street and the headlines of the pile of +newspapers on the table. + +"If it had not been for the tea and egg and buttered toast she would +have been sure the poor child was mad." He thought it out. "An egg and a +slice of buttered toast guarantee even spiritual things. Why not? We are +material creatures who have only material sight and touch and taste to +employ as arguments. I suppose that is why tables are tipped, and +banjos fly about for beginners. It's because we cannot see other things, +and what we cannot see-- Oh! fools that we are! The child said he was +not an angel--he was himself. Why not? Where did he come from? +Personally I believe that he _came_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + + +"It was Lord Coombe who sent the book," said Robin. + +She was sitting in the Tower room, watching Dowie open the packages +which had come from London. She herself had opened the one which held +the models and she was holding a tiny film of lawn and fine embroidery +in her hands. Dowie could see that she was quite unconscious that she +loosely held it against her breast as if she were nursing it. + +"It's his lordship's way to think of things," the discreet answer came +impersonally. + +Robin looked slowly round the small and really quite wonderful room. + +"You know I said that, the first night we came here." + +"Yes?" Dowie answered. + +Robin turned her eyes upon her. They were no longer hollowed, but they +still looked much too large. + +"Dowie," she said. "He _knows_ things." + +"He always did," said Dowie. "Some do and some don't." + +"He _knows_ things--as Donal does. The secret things you can't talk +about--the meaning of things." + +She went on as if she were remembering bit by bit. "When we were in the +Wood in the dark, he said the first thing that made my mind begin to +move--almost to think. That was because he _knew_. Knowing things made +him send the book." + +The fact was that he knew much of which it was not possible for him to +speak, and in passing a shop window he had been fantastically arrested +by a mere pair of small sleeves--the garment to which they belonged +having by chance so fallen that they seemed to be tiny arms holding +themselves out in surrendering appeal. They had held him a moment or so +staring and then he had gone into the shop and asked for their +catalogue. + +"Yes, he knew," Dowie replied. + +A letter had been written to London signed by Dowie and the models and +patterns had been sent to the village and brought to the castle by Jock +Macaur. Later there had come rolls of fine flannel and lawn, with +gossamer thread and fairy needles and embroidery floss. Then the sewing +began. + +Doctor Benton had gradually begun to look forward to his daily visits +with an interest stimulated by a curiosity become eager. The most casual +looker-on might have seen the change taking place in his patient day by +day and he was not a casual looker-on. Was the improvement to be relied +upon? Would the mysterious support suddenly fail them? + +"What in God's name should we do if it did?" he broke out unconsciously +aloud one day when Dowie and he were alone together. + +"If it did what, sir?" she asked. + +"If it stopped--the dream?" + +Dowie understood. By this time she knew that, when he asked questions, +took notes and was professionally exact, he had ceased to think of Robin +merely as a patient. She had touched him in some unusual way which had +drawn him within the circle of her innocent woe. He was under the spell +of her pathetic youngness which made Dowie herself feel as if they were +watching over a child called upon to bear something it was unnatural for +a child to endure. + +"It won't stop," she said obstinately, but she lost her ruddy colour +because she was not sure. + +But after the sewing began there grew up within her a sort of courage. +A girl whose material embodiment has melted away until she has worn the +aspect of a wraith is not restored to normal bloom in a week. But what +Dowie seemed to see was the lamp of life relighted and the first +flickering flame strengthening to a glow. The hands which fitted +together on the table in the Tower room delicate puzzles in bits of lawn +and paper, did not in these days tremble with weakness. Instead of the +lost look there had returned to the young doe's eyes the pretty trusting +smile. The girl seemed to smile as if to herself nearly all the time, +Dowie thought, and often she broke into a happy laugh at her own small +blunders--and sometimes only at the sweet littleness of the things she +was making. + +One fact revealed itself clearly to Dowie, which was that she had lost +all sense of the aspect which the dream must wear to others than +herself. This was because there had been no others than Dowie who had +uttered no suggestion of doubt and had never touched upon the subject +unless it had been first broached by Robin herself. She had hidden her +bewilderment and anxieties and had outwardly accepted the girl's own +acceptance of the situation. + +Of the incident of the sewing Lord Coombe had been informed later with +other details. + +"She sits and sews and sews," wrote Dowie. "She sewed beautifully even +before she was out of the nursery. I have never seen a picture of a +little saint sewing. If I had, perhaps I should say she looked like it." + +Coombe read the letter to his old friend at Eaton Square. + +There was a pause as he refolded it. After the silence he added as out +of deep thinking, "I wish that I could see her." + +"So do I," the Duchess said. "So do I. But if I were to go to her, +questioning would begin at once." + +"My going to Darreuch would attract no attention. It never did after the +first year. But she has not said she wished to see me. I gave my word. I +shall never see her again unless she asks me to come. She does not need +me. She has Donal." + +"What do you believe?" she asked. + +"What do _you_ believe?" he replied. + +After a moment of speculative gravity came her reply. + +"As without proof I believed in the marriage, so without proof I believe +that in some mysterious way he comes to her--God be thanked!" + +"So do I," said Coombe. "We are living in a changing world and new +things are happening. I do not know what they are, but they shake me +inwardly." + +"You want to see her because--?" the Duchess put it to him. + +"Perhaps I am changing with the rest of the world, or it may be that +instincts which have always been part of me have been shaken to the +surface of my being. Perhaps I was by nature an effusively affectionate +and domestic creature. I cannot say that I have ever observed any signs +of the tendency, but it may have lurked secretly within me." + +"It caused you to rescue a child from torment and watch over its +helplessness as if it had been your own flesh and blood," interposed the +Duchess. + +"It may have been. Who knows? And now the unnatural emotional upheaval +of the times has broken down all my artificialities. I feel old and +tired--perhaps childish. Shrines are being torn down and blown to pieces +all over the world. And I long for a quite simple shrine to cleanse my +soul before. A white little soul hidden away in peace, and sitting +smiling over her sewing of small garments is worth making a pilgrimage +to. Do you remember the childish purity of her eyelids? I want to see +them dropped down as she sews. I want to _see_ her." + +"Alixe--and her children--would have been your shrine." The Duchess +thought it out slowly. + +"Yes." + +He was the last of men to fall into an unconventional posture, but he +dropped forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees, his forehead in +his hands. + +"If she lives and the child lives I shall long intolerably to see them. +As her mother seemed to live in Alixe's exquisite body without its soul, +so Alixe's soul seems to possess this child's body. Do I appear to be +talking nonsense? Things without precedent have always been supposed to +be nonsense." + +"We are not so sure of that as we used to be," commented the Duchess. + +"I shall long to be allowed to be near them," he added. "But I may go +out of existence without seeing them at all. I gave my word." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + + +After the first day of cutting out patterns from the models and finely +sewing tiny pieces of lawn together, Dowie saw that, before going to her +bedroom for the night, Robin began to gather together all she had done +and used in doing her work. She had ordered from London one of the +pretty silk-lined lace-frilled baskets women are familiar with, and she +neatly folded and laid her sewing in it. She touched each thing with +fingers that lingered; she smoothed and once or twice patted something. +She made exquisitely orderly little piles. Her down-dropped white lids +quivered with joy as she did it. When she lifted them to look at Dowie +her eyes were like those of a stray young spirit. + +"I am going to take them into my room," she said. "I shall take them +every night. I want to keep them on a chair quite near me so that I can +put out my hand and touch them." + +"Yes, my lamb," Dowie agreed cheerfully. But she knew she was going to +hear something else. And this would be the third time. + +"I want to show them to Donal." The very perfection of her naturalness +gave Dowie a cold chill, even while she thanked God. She had shivered +inwardly when she had opened the Tower room window, and so she shivered +now despite her serene exterior. A simple unexalted body could not but +think of those fragments which were never even found. And she, standing +there with her lips and eyes smiling, just like any other radiant girl +mother whose young husband is her lover, enraptured and amazed by this +new miracle of hers! + +Robin touched her with the tip of her finger. + +"It can't be only a dream, Dowie," she said. "He's too real. I am too +real. We are too happy." She hesitated a second. "If he were here at +Darreuch in the daytime--I should not always know where he had been when +he was away. Only his coming back would matter. He can't tell me now +just where he comes from. He says 'Not yet.' But he comes. Every night, +Dowie." + + * * * * * + +Every day she sewed in the Tower room, her white eyelids drooping over +her work. Each night the basket was carried to her room. And each day +Dowie watched with amazement the hollows in her temples and cheeks and +under her eyes fill out, the small bones cover themselves, the thinned +throat grow round with young tissue and smooth with satin skin. Her hair +became light curled silk again; the faint colour deepened into the +Jacqueminot glow at which passers by had turned to look in the street +when she was little more than a baby. But she never talked of the dream. +The third time was the last for many weeks. + +Between Doctor Benton and Dowie there grew up an increased reserve +concerning the dream. Never before had the man encountered an experience +which so absorbed him. He was a student of the advanced order. He also +had seen the books which had fallen into the hands of Coombe--some the +work of scientific men--some the purely commercial outcome of the need +of the hour written by the jackals of the literary profession. He would +have been ready to sit by the bedside of his patient through the night +watching over her sleep, holding her wrist with fingers on her pulse. +Even his most advanced thinking involuntarily harked back to pulse and +temperature and blood pressure. The rapidity of the change taking place +in the girl was abnormal, but it expressed itself physically as well as +mentally. How closely involved physiology and psychology were after all! +Which was which? Where did one end and the other begin? Where was the +line drawn? Was there a line at all? He had seen no chances for the +apparently almost dying young thing when he first met her. She could not +have lived through what lay before her. She had had a dream which she +believed was real, and, through the pure joy and comfort of it, the life +forces had begun to flow through her being and combine to build actual +firm tissue and supply blood cells. The results were physical enough. +The inexplicable in this case was that the curative agency was that she +believed that her husband, who had been blown to atoms on the battle +field, came to her alive each night--talked with her--held her in warm +arms. Nothing else had aided her. And there you were--thrown upon +occultism and what not! + +He became conscious that, though he would have been glad to question +Dowie daily and closely, a certain reluctance of mind held him back. +Also he realised that, being a primitive though excellent woman, Dowie +herself was secretly awed into avoidance of the subject. He believed +that she knelt by her bedside each night in actual fear, but faithfully +praying that for some months at least the dream might be allowed to go +on. Had not he himself involuntarily said, + +"She is marvellously well. We have nothing to fear if this continues." + +It did continue and her bloom became a thing to marvel at. And not her +bloom alone. Her strength increased with her blooming until no one could +have felt fear for or doubt of her. She walked upon the moor without +fatigue, she even worked in a garden Jock Macaur had laid out for her +inside the ruined walls of what had once been the castle's banquet hall. +So much of her life had been spent in London that wild moor and sky and +the growing of things thrilled her. She ran in and out and to and fro +like a little girl. There seemed no limit to the young vigour that +appeared day by day to increase rather than diminish. + +"It's a wonderful thing and God be thankit," said Mrs. Macaur. + +Only Dowie in secret trembled sometimes before the marvel of her. As +Doctor Benton had imagined, she prayed forcefully. + +"Lord, forgive me if I am a sinner--but for Christ's sake don't take the +strange thing away from her until she's got something to hold on to. +What would she do-- What could she!" + +Robin came into the Tower room on a fair morning carrying her pretty +basket as she always did. She put it down on its table and went and +stood a few minutes at a window looking out. The back of her neck, Dowie +realised, was now as slenderly round and velvet white as it had been +when she had dressed her hair on the night of the Duchess' dance. Dowie +did not know that its loveliness had been poor George's temporary +undoing; she only thought of it as a sign of the wonderful change. It +had been waxen pallid and had shown piteous hollows. + +She turned about and spoke. + +"Dowie, dear, I am going to write to Lord Coombe." + +Dowie's heart hastened its beat and she herself being conscious of the +fact, hastened to answer in an unexcited manner. + +"That'll be nice, my dear. His lordship'll be glad to get the good news +you can give him." + +She asked herself if she would not perhaps tell her something--something +which would make the fourth time. + +"Perhaps he's asked her to do it," she thought. + +But Robin said nothing which could make a fourth time. After she had +eaten her breakfast she sat down and wrote a letter. It did not seem a +long one and when she had finished it she sent it to the post by Jock +Macaur. + + * * * * * + +There had been dark news both by land and sea that day, and Coombe had +been out for many hours. He did not return to Coombe House until late in +the evening. He was tired almost beyond endurance, and his fatigue was +not merely a thing of muscle and nerve. After he sat down it was some +time before he even glanced at the letters upon his writing table. + +There were always a great many and usually a number of them were +addressed in feminine handwriting. His hospital and other war work +brought him numerous letters from women. Even their most impatient +masculine opponents found themselves admitting that the women were being +amazing. + +Coombe was so accustomed to opening such letters that he felt no +surprise when he took up an envelope without official lettering upon it, +and addressed in a girlish hand. Girls were being as amazing as older +women. + +But this was not a letter about war work or Red Cross efforts. It was +Robin's letter. It was not long and was as simple as a school girl's. +She had never been clever--only exquisite and adorable, and never dull +or stupid. + +"Dear Lord Coombe, + +"You were kind enough to say that you would come to see me when I asked +you. Please will you come now? I hope I am not asking you to take a long +journey when you are engaged in work too important to leave. If I am +please pardon me, and I will wait until you are less occupied. + +"Robin." + +That was all. Coombe sat and gazed at it and read it several times. The +thing which had always touched him most in her was her simple obedience +to the laws about her. Curiously it had never seemed insipid--only a +sort of lovely desire to be in harmony with all near her--things and +people alike. It had been an innocent modesty which could not express +rebellion. Her lifelong repelling of himself had been her one variation +from type. Even that had been quiet except in one demonstration of her +babyhood when she had obstinately refused to give him her hand. When +Fate's self had sprung upon her with a wild-beast leap she had only lain +still and panted like a young fawn in the clutch of a lion. She had only +thought of Donal and his child. He remembered the eyes she had lifted to +his own when he had put the ring on her finger in the shadow-filled old +church--and he had understood that she was thinking of the warm young +hand clasp and the glow of eyes she had looked up into when love and +youth had stood in his place. + +The phrasing of the letter brought it all back. His precision of mind +and resolve would have enabled him to go to his grave without having +looked on her face again--but he was conscious that she was an integral +part of his daily thought and planning and that he longed inexpressibly +to see her. He sometimes told himself that she and the child had become +a sort of obsession with him. He believed that this was because Alixe +had shown the same soft obedience to fate, and the same look in her +sorrowful young eyes. Alixe had been then as she was now--but he had not +been able to save her. She had died and he was one of the few abnormal +male creatures who know utter loneliness to the end of life because of +utter loss. He knew such things were not normal. It had seemed that +Robin would die, though not as Alixe did. If she lived and he might +watch over her, there lay hidden in the back of his mind a vague feeling +that it would be rather as though his care of all detail--his power to +palliate--to guard--would be near the semblance of the tenderness he +would have shown to Alixe. His old habit of mind caused him to call it +an obsession, but he admitted he was obsessed. + +"I want to _see_ her!" he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + + +Many other thoughts filled his mind on his railroad journey to Scotland. +He questioned himself as to how deeply he still felt the importance of +there coming into the racked world a Head of the House of Coombe, how +strongly he was still inspired by the centuries old instinct that a +House of Coombe must continue to exist as part of the bulwarks of +England. The ancient instinct still had its power, but he was curiously +awakening to a slackening of the bonds which caused a man to specialise. +It was a reluctant awakening--he himself had no part in the slackening. +The upheaval of the whole world had done it and of the world England +herself was a huge part--small, huge, obstinate, fighting England. +Bereft of her old stately beauties, her picturesque splendours of habit +and custom, he could not see a vision of her, and owned himself desolate +and homesick. He was tired. So many men and women were tired--worn out +with thinking, fearing, holding their heads up while their hearts were +lead. When all was said and done, when all was over, what would the new +England want--what would she need? And England was only a part. What +would the ravaged world need as it lay--quiet at last--in ruins +physical, moral and mental? He had no answer. Wiser men than he had no +answer. Only time would tell. But the commonest brain cells in the +thickest skull could argue to the end which proved that only men and +women could do the work to be done. The task would be one for gods, or +demigods, or supermen--but there remained so far only men and women to +face it--to rebuild, to reinspire with life, to heal unearthly gaping +wounds of mind and soul. Each man or woman born strong and given the +chance to increase in vigour which would build belief in life and +living, in a future, was needed as breath and air are needed--even such +an one as in the past would have wielded a sort of unearned sceptre as a +Head of the House of Coombe. A man born a blacksmith, if he were of +like quality, would meet equally the world's needs, but each would be +doing in his way his part of that work which it seemed to-day only +demigod and superman could fairly confront. + +There was time for much thinking in long hours spent shut in a railroad +carriage and his mind was, in these days, not given to letting him rest. + +He had talked with many men back from the Front on leave and he had +always noted the marvel of both minds and bodies at the relief from +strain--from maddening noise, from sights of death and horror, from the +needs of decency and common comfort and cleanliness which had become +unheard of luxury. London, which to the Londoner seemed caught in the +tumult and turmoil of war, was to these men rest and peace. + +Coombe felt, when he descended at the small isolated station and stood +looking at the climbing moor, that he was like one of those who had left +the roar of battle behind and reached utter quiet. London was a world's +width away and here the War did not exist. In Flanders and in France it +filled the skies with thunders and drenched the soil with blood. But +here it was not. + +The partly rebuilt ruin of Darreuch rose at last before his view high on +the moor as he drove up the winding road. The space and the blue sky +above and behind it made it seem the embodiment of remote stillness. +Nothing had reached nor could touch it. It did not know that green +fields and deep woods were strewn with dead and mangled youth and all it +had meant of the world's future. Its crumbled walls and remaining grey +towers stood calm in the clear air and birds' nests were hidden safely +in their thick ivy. + +Robin was there and each night she believed that a dead man came to her +a seeming living being. He was not like Dowie, but his realisation of +the mystery of this thing touched his nerves as a wild unexplainable +sound heard in the darkness at midnight might have done. He wondered if +he should see some look which was not quite normal in her eyes and hear +some unearthly note in her voice. Physically the effect upon her had +been good, but might he not be aware of the presence of some mental +sign? + +"I think you'll be amazed when you see her, my lord," said Dowie, who +met him. "I am myself, every day." + +She led him up to the Tower room and when he entered it Robin was +sitting by a window sewing with her eyelids dropped as he had pictured +them. The truth was that Dowie had not previously announced him because +she had wanted him to come upon just this. + +Robin rose from her chair and laid her bit of sewing aside. For a moment +he almost expected her to make the little curtsey Mademoiselle had +taught her to make when older people came into the schoolroom. She +looked so exactly as she had looked before life had touched her. There +was very little change in her girlish figure; the child curve of her +cheek had returned; the Jacqueminot rose glowed on it and her eyes were +liquid wonders of trust. She came to him holding out both hands. + +"Thank you for coming," she said in her pretty way. "Thank you, Lord +Coombe, for coming." + +"Thank you, my child, for asking me to come," he answered and he feared +that his voice was not wholly steady. + +There was no mystic sign to be seen about her. The only mystery was in +her absolutely blooming health and naturalness and in the gentle and +clear happiness of her voice and eyes. She was not tired; she was not +dragged or anxious looking as he had seen even fortunate young wives and +mothers at times. There actually flashed back upon him the morning, +months ago, when he had met her in the street and said to himself that +she was like a lovely child on her birthday with all her gifts about +her. Her radiance had been quiet even then because she was always quiet. + +She led him to a seat near her window and she sat by him. + +"I put this chair here for you because it is so lovely to look out at +the moor," she said. + +That moved him to begin with. She had been thinking simply and kindly of +him even before he came. He had always been prepared for, waited upon +either with flattering attentions or ceremonial service, but the quiet +pretty things mothers and sisters and wives did had not been part of his +life and he had always noticed and liked them and sometimes wondered +that most men received them with a casual air. This small thing alone +caused the roar he had left behind to recede still farther. + +"I was afraid that you might be too busy to come," she went on. "You +see, I remembered how important the work was and that there are things +which cannot wait for an hour. I could have waited as long as you told +me to wait. But I am so _glad_ you could come!" + +"I will always come," was his answer. "I have helpers who could be +wholly trusted if I died to-night. I have thought of that. One must." + +She hesitated a moment and then said, "I am quite away here as you +wanted me to be. I see it was the only thing. I read nothing, hear +nothing. London--the War--" her voice fell a little. + +"They go on. Will you be kind to me and help me to forget them for a +while?" He looked through the window at the sky and the moor. "They are +not here--they never have been. The men who come back will do anything +to make themselves forget for a little while. This place makes me feel +that I am a man who has come back." + +"I will do anything--everything--you wish me to do," she said eagerly. +"Dowie wondered if you would not want to be very quiet and not be +reminded. I--wondered too." + +"You were both right. I want to feel that I am in another world. This +seems like a new planet." + +"Would you--" she spoke rather shyly, "would you be able to stay a few +days?" + +"I can stay a week," he answered. "Thank you, Robin." + +"I am so glad," she said. "I am so glad." + +So they did not talk about the War or about London, though she inquired +about the Duchess and Lady Lothwell and Kathryn. + +"Would you like to go out and walk over the moor?" she asked after a +short time. "It's so scented and sweet, and darling things scurry about. +I don't think they are really frightened, because I try to walk softly. +Sometimes there are nests with eggs or soft little things in them." + +They went out together and walked side by side, sometimes on the winding +road and sometimes through the heather. He found himself watching every +step she made and keeping his eye on the path ahead of them to make +sure she would avoid roughness or irregularities. In some inner part of +his being there remotely worked the thought that this was the way in +which he might have walked side by side with Alixe, watching over each +step taken by her sacred little feet. + +The day was a wonder of peace and relaxation to him. Farther and +farther, until lost in nothingness, receded the roar and the tensely +strung sense of waiting for news of unbearable things. As they went on +he realised that he need not even watch the path before her because she +knew it so well and her step was as light and firm as a young roe's. Her +very movements seemed to express the natural physical enjoyment of +exercise. + +He knew nothing of her mind but that Mademoiselle had told him that she +was intelligent. They had never talked together and so her mentality was +an unexplored field to him. She did not chatter. She said fresh +picturesque things about life on the moor, about the faithful silent +Macaurs, about Dowie, and now and then about something she had read. She +showed him beauties and small curious things she plainly loved. It +struck him that the whole trend of her being lay in the direction of +being fond of people and things--of loving and being happy,--and even +merry if life had been kind to her. Her soft laugh had a naturally merry +note. He heard it first when she held him quite still at her side as +they watched the frisking of some baby rabbits. + +There was a curious relief in realising, as the hours passed, that her +old dislike and dread of him had melted into nothingness like a mist +blown away in the night. She was thinking of him as if he were some +mature and wise friend who had always been kind to her. He need not +rigidly watch his words and hers. She was not afraid of him at all; +there was no shrinking in her eyes when they met his. If Alixe had had a +daughter who was his own, she might have lifted such lovely eyes to him. + +They lunched together and Dowie served them with deft ability and an +expression which Coombe was able to comprehend the at once watchful and +directing meaning of. It directed him to observation of Robin's appetite +and watched for his encouraged realisation of it as a supporting fact. + +He went to his own rooms in the afternoon that she might be alone and +rest. He read an old book for an hour and then talked with the Macaurs +about the place and their work and their new charge. He wanted to hear +what they were thinking of her. + +"It's wonderful, my lord!" was Mrs. Macaur's repeated contribution. "She +came here a wee ghost. She frighted me. I couldna see how she could go +through what's before her. I lay awake in my bed expectin' Mrs. Dowie to +ca' me any hour. An' betwixt one night and anither the change cam. She's +a well bairn--for woman she isna, puir wee thing! It's a wonder--a +wonder--a wonder, my lord!" + +When he saw Dowie alone he asked her a question. + +"Does she know that you have told me of the dream?" + +"No, my lord. The dream's a thing we don't talk about. She's only +mentioned it three times. It's in my mind that she feels it's too sacred +to be made common by words." + +He had wondered if Robin had been aware of his knowledge. After Dowie's +answer he wondered if she would speak to him about the dream herself. +Perhaps she would not. It might be that she had asked him to come to +Darreuch because her thought of him had so changed that she had +realised something of his grave anxiety for her health and a gentle +consideration had made her wish to give him the opportunity to see her +face to face. Perhaps she had intended only this. + +"I want to see her," he had said to himself. The relief of the mere +seeing had been curiously great. He had the relief of sinking, as it +were, into the deep waters of pure peace on this new planet. In this +realisation every look at the child's face, every movement she made, +every tone of her voice, aided. Did she know that she soothed him? Did +she intend to try to soothe? When they were together she gave him a +feeling that she was strangely near and soft and warm. He had felt it on +the moor. It was actually as if she wanted to be quieting to him--almost +as if she had realised that he had been stretched upon a mental rack +with maddening tumult all around him. It was part of her pretty thought +of him in the matter of the waiting chair and he felt it very sweet. + +But she had had other things in her mind when she had asked him to come. +This he knew later. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + + +After they had dined they sat together in the long Highland twilight +before her window in the Tower room where he had found her sitting when +he arrived. Her work basket was near her and she took a piece of sheer +lawn from it and began to embroider. And he sat and watched her draw +delicate threads through the tiny leaves and flowers she was making. So +he might have watched Alixe if she had been some unroyal girl given to +him in one of life's kinder hours. She seemed to draw near out of the +land of lost shadows as he sat in the clear twilight stillness and +looked on. As he might have watched Alixe. + +The silence, the paling daffodil tints of the sky, the non-existence of +any other things than calm and stillness seemed to fill his whole being +as a cup might be filled by pure water falling slowly. She said nothing +and did not even seem to be waiting for anything. It was he who first +broke the rather long silence and his voice was quite low. + +"Do you know you are very good to me?" he said. "How did you learn to be +so kind to a man--with your quietness?" + +He saw the hand holding her work tremble a very little. She let it fall +upon her knee, still holding the embroidery. She leaned forward slightly +and in her look there was actually something rather like a sort of timid +prayer. + +"Please let me," she said. "Please let me--if you can!" + +"Let you!" was all that he could say. + +"Let me try to help you to rest--to feel quiet and forget for just a +little while. It's such a small thing. And it's all I can ever _try_ to +do." + +"You do it very perfectly," he answered, touched and wondering. + +"You have been kind to me ever since I was a child--and I did not know," +she said. "Now I know, because I understand. Oh! _will_ you forgive me? +_Please_--will you?" + +"Don't, my dear," he said. "You were a baby. _I_ understood. That +prevented there being anything to forgive--anything." + +"I ought to have loved you as I loved Mademoiselle and Dowie." Her eyes +filled with tears. "And I think I hated you. It began with Donal," in a +soft wail. "I heard Andrews say that his mother wouldn't let him know me +because you were my mother's friend. And then as I grew older--" + +"Even if I had known what you thought I could not have defended myself," +he answered, faintly smiling. "You must not let yourself think of it. It +is nothing now." + +The hand holding the embroidery lifted itself to touch her breast. There +was even a shade of awe of him in her eyes. + +"It is something to me--and to Donal. You have never defended yourself. +You endure things and endure them. You watched for years over an +ignorant child who loathed you. It was not that a child's hatred is of +importance--but if I had died and never asked you to forgive me, how +could I have looked into Donal's eyes? I want to go down on my knees to +you!" + +He rose from his chair, and took in his own the unsteady hand holding +the embroidery. He even bent and lightly touched it with his lips, with +his finished air. + +"You will not die," he said. "And you will not go upon your knees. Thank +you for being a warm hearted child, Robin." + +But still her eyes held the touch of awe of him. + +"But what I have spoken of is the least." Her voice almost broke. "In +the Wood--in the dark you said there was something that must be saved +from suffering. I could not think then--I could scarcely care. But you +cared, and you made me come awake. To save a poor little child who was +not born, you have done something which will make people believe you +were vicious and hideous--even when all this is over forever and ever. +And there will be no one to defend you. Oh! What shall I do!" + +"There are myriads of worlds," was his answer. "And this is only one of +them. And I am only one man among the myriads on it. Let us be very +quiet again and watch the coming out of the stars." + +In the pale saffron of the sky which was mysteriously darkening, sparks +like deep-set brilliants were lighting themselves here and there. They +sat and watched them together for long. But first Robin murmured +something barely above her lowest breath. Coombe was not sure that she +expected him to hear it. + +"I want to be your little slave. Oh! Let me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + + +This was what she had been thinking of. This had been the meaning of the +tender thought for him he had recognised uncomprehendingly in her look: +it had been the cause of her desire to enfold him in healing and restful +peace. When he had felt that she drew so close to him that they were +scarcely separated by physical being, it was because she had suddenly +awakened to a new comprehension. The awakening must have been a sudden +one. He had known at the church that it had taken all her last remnant +of strength to aid her to lay her cold hand in his and he had seen +shrinking terror in her eyes when she lifted them to his as he put on +her wedding ring. He had also known perfectly what memory had beset her +at the moment and he had thrown all the force of his will into the look +which had answered her--the look which had told her that he understood. +Yes, the awakening must have been sudden and he asked himself how it had +come about--what had made all clear? + +He had never been a mystic, but during the cataclysmic hours through +which men were living, many of them stunned into half blindness and then +shocked into an unearthly clarity of thought and sight, he had come upon +previously unheard of signs of mysticism on all sides. People +talked--most of them blunderingly--of things they would not have +mentioned without derision in pre-war days. Premonitions, dreams, +visions, telepathy were not by any means always flouted with raucous +laughter and crude witticisms. Even unorthodox people had begun to hold +tentatively religious views. + +Was he becoming a mystic at last? As he walked by Robin's side on the +moor, as he dined with her, talked with her, sat and watched her at her +sewing, more than ever each hour he believed that her dream was no +ordinary fantasy of the unguided brain. She had in some strange way +seen Donal. Where--how--where he had come from--where he returned after +their meeting--he ceased to ask himself. What did it matter after all if +souls could so comfort and sustain each other? The blessedness of it was +enough. + +He wondered as Dowie had done whether she would reveal anything to him +or remain silent. There was no actual reason why she should speak. No +remotest reference to the subject would come from himself. + +It was in truth a new planet he lived on during this marvel of a week. +The child was wonderful, he told himself. He had not realised that a +feminine creature could be so exquisitely enfolding and yet leave a man +so wholly free. She was not always with him, but her spirit was so near +that he began to feel that no faintest wish could form itself within his +mind without her mysteriously knowing of its existence and realising it +while she seemed to make no effort. She did pretty things for him and +her gladness in his pleasure in them touched him to the core. He also +knew that she wished him to see that she was well and strong and never +tired or languid. There was, perhaps, one thing she could do for him and +she wanted to prove to him that he might be sure she would not fail him. +He allowed her to perform small services for him because of the dearness +of the smile it brought to her lips--almost a sort of mothering smile. +It was really true that she wanted to be his little slave and he had +imagination enough to guess that she comforted herself by saying the +thing to herself again and again; childlike and fantastic as it was. + +She taught him to sleep as he had not slept for a year; she gave him +back the power to look at his food without a sense of being repelled; +she restored to him the ability to sit still in a chair as though it +were meant to rest in. His nerves relaxed; his deadly fatigue left him; +and it was the quiet nearness of Robin that had done it. He felt younger +and knew that on his return to London he should be more inclined to +disbelieve exaggerated rumours than to believe them. + +On the evening before he left Darreuch they sat at the Tower window +again. She did not take her sewing from its basket, but sat very quietly +for a while looking at the purple folds of moor. + +"You will go away very early in the morning," she began at last. + +"Yes. You must promise me that you will not awaken." + +"I do not waken early. If I do I shall come to you, but I think I shall +be asleep." + +"Try to be asleep." + +He saw that she was going to say something else--something not connected +with his departure. It was growing in her eyes and after a silent moment +or so she began. + +"There is something I want to tell you," she said. + +"Yes?" + +"I have waited because I wanted to make sure that you could believe it. +I did not think you would not wish to believe it, but sometimes there +are people who _cannot_ believe even when they try. Perhaps once I +should not have been able to believe myself. But now--I _know_. And +to-night I feel that you are one of those who _can_ believe." + +She was going to speak of it. + +"In these days when all the forces of the world are in upheaval people +are learning that there are many new things to be believed," was his +answer. + +She turned towards him, extending her arms that he might see her well. + +"See!" she said, "I am alive again. I am alive because Donal came back +to me. He comes every night and when he comes he is not dead. Can you +believe it?" + +"When I look at you and remember, I can believe anything. I do not +understand. I do not know where he comes from--or how, but I believe +that in some way you see him." + +She had always been a natural and simple girl and it struck him that her +manner had never been a more natural one. + +"_I_ do not know where he comes from," the clearness of a bell in her +voice. "He does not want me to ask him. He did not say so but I know. +When he is with me we know things without speaking words. We only talk +of happy things. I have not told him that--that I have been unhappy and +that I thought that perhaps I was really dead. He made me understand +about you--but he does not know anything--else. Yes--" eagerly, eagerly, +"you are believing--you are!" + +"Yes--I am believing." + +"If everything were as it used to be--I should see him and talk to him +in the day time. Now I see him and talk to him at night instead. You +see, it is almost the same thing. But we are really happier. We are +afraid of nothing and we only tell each other of happy things. We know +how wonderful everything is and that it was _meant_ to be like that. You +don't know how beautiful it is when you only think and talk about joyful +things! The other things fly away. Sometimes we go out onto the moor +together and the darkness is not darkness--it is a soft lovely thing as +beautiful as the light. We love it--and we can go as far as we like +because we are never tired. Being tired is one of the things that has +flown away and left us quite light. That is why I feel light in the day +and I am never tired or afraid. I _remember_ all the day." + +As he listened, keeping his eyes on her serenely radiant face, he asked +himself what he should have been thinking if he had been a psychopathic +specialist studying her case. He at the same time realised that a +psychopathic specialist's opinion of what he himself--Lord +Coombe--thought would doubtless have been scientifically disconcerting. +For what he found that he thought was that, through some mysteriously +beneficent opening of portals kept closed through all the eons of time, +she who was purest love's self had strangely passed to places where +vision revealed things as they were created by that First Intention--of +which people sometimes glibly talked in London drawing-rooms. He had not +seen life so. He was not on her plane, but, as he heard her, he for the +time believed in its existence and felt a remote nostalgia. + +"Dowie is very brave and tries not to be frightened," she went on; "but +she is really afraid that something may happen to my mind. She thinks it +is only a queer dream which may turn out unhealthy. But it is not. It is +Donal." + +"Yes, it is Donal," he answered gravely. And he believed he was speaking +a truth, though he was aware of no material process of reasoning by +which such a conclusion could be reached. One had to overleap gaps--even +abysses--where material reasoning came to a full stop. One could only +argue that there might be yet unknown processes to be revealed. Mere +earthly invention was revealing on this plane unknown processes year by +year--why not on other planes? + +"I wanted to tell you because I want you to know everything about me. It +seems as if I belong to you, Lord Coombe," there was actual sweet +pleading in her voice. "You watched and made my life for me. I should +not have been this Robin if you had not watched. When Donal came back he +found me in the house you had taken me to because I could be safe in it. +Everything has come from you.... I am yours as well as Donal's." + +"You give me extraordinary comfort, dear child," he said. "I did not +know that I needed it, but I see that I did. Perhaps I have longed for +it without knowing it. You have opened closed doors." + +"I will do anything--everything--you wish me to do. I will _obey_ you +always," she said. + +"You are doing everything I most desire," he answered. + +"Then I will try more every day." + +She meant it as she had always meant everything she said. It was her +innocent pledge of faithful service, because, understanding at last, she +had laid her white young heart in gratitude at his feet. No living man +could have read her more clearly than this one whom half Europe had +secretly smiled at as its most finished debauchee. When she took her +pretty basket upon her knee and began to fold its bits of lawn +delicately for the night, he felt as if he were watching some stainless +acolyte laying away the fine cloths of an altar. + +Though no one would have accused him of being a sentimentalist or an +emotional man, his emotions overpowered him for once and swept doubt of +emotion and truth into some outer world. + + * * * * * + +The morning rose fair and the soft wind blowing across the gorse and +heather brought scents with it. Dowie waited upon him at his early +breakfast and took the liberty of indulging in open speech. + +"You go away looking rested, my lord," she respectfully ventured. "And +you leave us feeling safe." + +"Quite safe," he answered; "she is beautifully well." + +"That's it, my lord--beautifully--thank God. I've never seen a young +thing bloom as she does and I've seen many." + +The cart was at the door and he stood in the shadows of the hall when a +slight sound made him look up at the staircase. It was an ancient +winding stone descent with its feudal hand rope for balustrade. Robin +was coming down it in a loose white dress. Her morning face was +wonderful. It was inevitable that he should ask himself where she had +come from--what she had brought with her unknowing. She looked like a +white blossom drifting from the bough--like a feather from a dove's wing +floating downward to earth. But she was only Robin. + +"You awakened," he reproached her. + +She came quite near him. + +"I wanted to awake. Donal wanted me to." + +She had never been quite so near him before. She put out a hand and laid +it on the rough tweed covering his breast. + +"I wanted to see you. Will you come again--when you are tired? I shall +always be here waiting." + +"Thank you, dear child," he answered. "I will come as often as I can +leave London. This is a new planet." + +He was almost as afraid to move as if a bird had alighted near him. + +But she was not afraid. Her eyes were clear pools of pure light. + +"Before you go away--" she said as simply as she had said it to Dowie +years before, "--may I kiss you, Lord Coombe? I want to kiss you." + +His old friend had told him the story of Dowie and it had +extraordinarily touched him though he had said but little. And now it +repeated itself. He had never seen anything so movingly lovely in his +life as her sweet gravity. + +She lifted her slight arms and laid them around his neck as she kissed +him gently, as if she had been his daughter--his own daughter and +delight--whose mother might have been Alixe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + + +"It was the strangest experience of my existence. It seemed suddenly to +change me to another type of man." + +He said it to the Duchess as he sat with her in her private room at +Eaton Square. He had told her the whole story of his week at Darreuch +and she had listened with an interest at moments almost breathless. + +"Do you feel that you shall remain the new type of man, or was it only a +temporary phase?" she inquired. + +"I told her that I felt I was living on a new planet. London is the old +planet and I have returned to it. But not as I left it. Something has +come back with me." + +"It must have seemed another planet," the Duchess pondered. "The +stillness of huge unbroken moors--no war--no khaki in sight--utter peace +and remoteness. A girl brought back to life by pure love, drawing a +spirit out of the unknown to her side on earth." + +"She is like a spirit herself--but that she remains Robin--in an +extraordinary new blooming." + +"Yes, she remains Robin." The Duchess thought it out slowly. "Not once +did she disturb you or herself by remembering that you were her +husband." + +"A girl who existed on the old planet would have remembered, and I +should have detested her. To her, marriage means only Donal. The form we +went through she sees only as a supreme sacrifice I made for the sake of +Donal's child. If you could have heard her heart-wrung cry, 'There will +be no one to defend you! Oh! What shall I do!'" + +"The stainless little soul of her!" the Duchess exclaimed. "Her world +holds only love and tenderness. Her goodbye to you meant that in her +penitence she wanted to take you into it in the one way she feels most +sacred. She will not die. She will live to give you the child. If it is +a son there will be a Head of the House of Coombe." + +"On the new planet one ceases to feel the vital importance of 'houses,'" +Coombe half reflected aloud. + +"Even on the old planet," the Duchess spoke as a woman very tired, "one +is beginning to contemplate changes in values." + + * * * * * + +The slice of a house in Mayfair had never within the memory of man been +so brilliant. The things done in it were called War Work and +necessitated much active gaiety. Persons of both sexes, the majority of +them in becoming uniform, flashed in and out in high spirits. If you +were a personable and feminine creature, it was necessary to look as +much like an attractive boy as possible when you were doing War Work. If +one could achieve something like leggings in addition to a masculine cut +of coat, one could swagger about most alluringly. There were numbers of +things to be done which did not involve frumpish utilitarian costumes, +all caps and aprons. Very short skirts were the most utilitarian of +garments because they were easy to get about in. Smart military little +hats were utilitarian also--and could be worn at any inspiring angle +which would most attract the passing eye. Even before the War, shapely +legs, feet and ankles had begun to play an increasingly interesting part +in the scheme of the Universe--as a result of the brevity of skirts and +the prevalence of cabaret dancing. During the War, as a consequence of +the War Work done in such centres of activity as the slice of a house in +Mayfair, these attractive members were allowed opportunities such as the +world had not before contemplated. + +"Skirts must be short when people are doing real work," Feather said. +"And then of course one's shoes and stockings require attention. I'm not +always sure I like leggings however smart they are. Still I often wear +them--as a sort of example." + +"Of what?" inquired Coombe who was present + +"Oh, well--of what women are willing to do for their country--in time of +war. Wearing unbecoming things--and doing without proper food. These +food restrictions are enough to cause a revolution." + +She was specially bitter against the food restrictions. If there was one +thing men back from the Front--particularly officers--were entitled to, +it was unlimited food. The Government ought to attend to it. When a man +came back and you invited him to dinner, a nice patriotic thing it was +to restrict the number of courses and actually deny him savouries and +entrees because they are called luxuries. Who should have luxuries if +not the men who were defending England? + +"Of course the Tommies don't need them," she leniently added. "They +never had them and never will. But men who are officers in smart +regiments are starving for them. I consider that my best War Work is +giving as many dinner parties as possible, and paying as little +attention to food restrictions as I can manage by using my wits." + +For some time--in certain quarters even from early days--there had been +flowing through many places a current of talk about America. What was +she going to do? Was she going to do anything at all? Would it be +possible for her hugeness, her power, her wealth to remain inert in a +world crisis? Would she be content tacitly to admit the truth of old +accusations of commerciality by securing as her part in the superhuman +conflict the simple and unadorned making of money through the dire +necessities of the world? There was bitterness, there were sneers, +there were vague hopes and scathing injustices born of torment and +racking dread. Some few were patiently just, because they knew something +of the country and its political and social workings and were by chance +of those whose points of view included the powers and significances of +things not readily to be seen upon the surface of events. + +"If there were dollars to be made out of it, of course America would +rush in," was Feather's decision. "Americans never do anything unless +they can make dollars. I never saw a dollar myself, but I believe they +are made of green paper. It would be very exciting if they did rush in. +They would bring so much money and they spend it as if it were water. Of +course they haven't any proper army, so they'd have to build one up out +of all sorts of people." + +"Which was what we were obliged to do ourselves, by the way," Coombe +threw in as a contribution. + +"But they will probably have stockbrokers and Wall Street men for +officers. Then some of them might give one 'tips' about how to make +millions in 'corners.' I don't know what corners are but they make +enormities out of them. Starling!" with a hilarious tinkle of a laugh, +"you know that appallingly gorgeous house of Cherry Cheston's in Palace +Garden--did she ever tell you that it was the result of a 'tip' a queer +Chicago man managed for her? He liked her. He used to call her 'Cherry +Ripe' when they were alone. He was big and red and half +boyish--sentimental and half blustering. Cherry _was_ ripe, you know, +and he liked the ripe style. I should like to have a Chicago stockbroker +of my own. I wish the Americans _would_ come in!" + +The Dowager Duchess of Darte and Lord Coombe had been of those who had +begun their talk of this in the early days. + +"Personally I believe they will come in," Coombe had always said. And on +different occasions he had added reasons which, combined, formulated +themselves into the following arguments. "We don't really know much of +the Americans though they have been buying and selling and marrying us +for some time. Our insular trick of feeling superior has held us +mentally aloof from half the globe. But presumably the United States was +from the first, in itself, an ideal, pure and simple. It was. It is +asinine to pooh-pooh it. A good deal is said about that sort of thing in +their histories and speeches. They keep it before each other and it has +had the effect of suggesting ideals on all sides. Which has resulted in +laying a sort of foundation of men who believe in the ideals and would +fight for them. They are good fighters and, when the sincere ones begin, +they will plant their flag where the insincere and mere politicians will +be forced to stand by it to save their faces. A few louder brays from +Berlin, a few more threats of hoofs trampling on the Star Spangled +Banner and the fuse will be fired. An American fuse might turn out an +amazing thing--because the ideals do exist and ideals are inflammable." + +This had been in the early days spoken of. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + + +Harrowby and the rest did not carry on their War Work in the slice of a +house. It was of an order requiring a more serious atmosphere. Feather +saw even the Starling less and less. + +"Since the Dowager took her up she's far too grand for the likes of us," +she said. + +So to speak, Feather blew about from one place to another. She had never +found life so exciting and excitement had become more vitally necessary +to her existence as the years had passed. She still looked +extraordinarily youthful and if her face was at times rather marvelous +in its white and red, and her lips daring in their pomegranate scarlet, +the fine grain of her skin aided her effects and she was dazzlingly in +the fashion. She had never worn such enchanting clothes and never had +seemed to possess so many. + +"I twist my rags together myself," she used to laugh. "That's my gift. +Helene says I have genius. I don't mean that I sit and sew. I have a +little slave woman who does that by the day. She admires me and will do +anything that I tell her. Things are so delightfully scant and short now +that you can cut two or three frocks out of one of your old +petticoats--and mine were never very old." + +There was probably a modicum of truth in this--the fact remained that +the garments which were more scant and shorter than those of any other +feathery person were also more numerous and exquisite. Her patriotic +entertainment of soldiers who required her special order of support and +recreation was fast and furious. She danced with them at cabarets; she +danced as a nymph for patriotic entertainments, with snow-white bare +feet and legs and a swathing of Spring woodland green tulle and leaves +and primroses. She was such a success that important personages smiled +on her and asked her to appear under undreamed of auspices. Secretly +triumphant though she was, she never so far lost her head as to do +anything which would bore her or cause her to appear at less than an +alluring advantage. When she could invent a particularly unique and +inspiring shred of a garment to startle the public with, she danced for +some noble object and intoxicated herself with the dazzle of light and +applause. She found herself strung to her highest pitch of excitement by +the air raids, which in the midst of their terrors had the singular +effect of exciting many people and filling them with an insane +recklessness. Those so excited somehow seemed to feel themselves immune. +Feather chattered about "Zepps" as if bombs could only wreak their +vengeance upon coast towns and the lower orders. + +When Lord Coombe definitely refused to allow her to fit up the roof of +the slice of a house as a sort of luxurious Royal Box from which she and +her friends might watch the spectacle, she found among her circle +acquaintances who shared her thrills and had prepared places for +themselves. Sometimes she was even rather indecently exhilarated by her +sense of high adventure. The fact was that the excitement of the +seething world about her had overstrung her trivial being and turned her +light head until it whirled too fast. + +"It may seem horrid to say so and I'm not horrid--but I _like_ the war. +You know what I mean. London never was so thrilling--with things +happening every minute--and all sorts of silly solemn fads swept away so +that one can do as one likes. And interesting heroic men coming and +going in swarms and being so grateful for kindness and entertainment. +One is really doing good all the time--and being adored for it. I own I +like being adored myself--and of course one likes doing good. I never +was so happy in my life." + +"I used to be rather a coward, I suppose," she chattered gaily on +another occasion. "I was horribly afraid of things. I believe the War +and living among soldiers has had an effect on me and made me braver. +The Zepps don't frighten me at all--at least they excite me so that they +make me forget to be frightened. I don't know what they do to me +exactly. The whole thing gets into my head and makes me want to rush +about and _see_ everything. I wouldn't go into a cellar for worlds. I +want to _see_!" + +She saw Lord Coombe but infrequently at this time, the truth being that +her exhilaration and her War Work fatigued him, apart from which his +hours were filled. He also objected to a certain raffishness which in an +extremely mixed crowd of patriots rather too obviously "swept away silly +old fads" and left the truly advanced to do as they liked. What they +liked he did not and was wholly undisturbed by the circumstances of +being considered a rigid old fossil. Feather herself had no need of him. +An athletic and particularly well favoured young actor who shared her +thrills of elation seemed to permeate the atmosphere about her. He and +Feather together at times achieved the effect, between raids, of waiting +impatiently for a performance and feeling themselves ill treated by the +long delays between the acts. + +"Are we growing callous, or are we losing our wits through living at +such high temperature?" the Duchess asked. "There's a delirium in the +air. Among those who are not shuddering in cellars there are some who +seem possessed by a sort of light insanity, half defiance, half excited +curiosity. People say exultantly, 'I had a perfectly splendid view of +the last Zepp!' A mother whose daughter was paying her a visit said to +her, 'I wish you could have seen the Zepps while you were here. It is +such an experience.'" + +"They have not been able to bring about the wholesale disaster Germany +hoped for and when nothing serious happens there is a relieved feeling +that the things are futile after all," said Coombe. "When the results +are tragic they must be hushed up as far as is possible to prevent +panic." + + * * * * * + +Dowie faithfully sent him her private bulletin. Her first fears of peril +had died away, but her sense of mystification had increased and was more +deeply touched with awe. She opened certain windows every night and felt +that she was living in the world of supernatural things. Robin's eyes +sometimes gave her a ghost of a shock when she came upon her sitting +alone with her work in her idle hands. But supported by the testimony of +such realities as breakfasts, long untiring walks and unvarying blooming +healthfulness, she thanked God hourly. + +"Doctor Benton says plain that he has never had such a beautiful case +and one that promised so well," she wrote. "He says she's as strong as a +young doe bounding about on the heather. What he holds is that it's +natural she should be. He is a clever gentleman with some wonderful +comforting new ideas about things, my lord. And he tells me I need not +look forward with dread as perhaps I had been doing." + +Robin herself wrote to Coombe--letters whose tender-hearted +comprehension of what he was doing always held the desire to surround +him with the soothing quiet he had so felt when he was with her. What +he discovered was that she had been born of the elect,--the women who +know what to say, what to let others say and what to beautifully leave +unsaid. Her unconscious genius was quite exquisite. + +Now and then he made the night journey to Darreuch Castle and each time +she met him with her frank childlike kiss he was more amazed and +uplifted by her aspect. Their quiet talks together were wonderful things +to remember. She had done much fine and dainty work which she showed him +with unaffected sweetness. She told him stories of Dowie and +Mademoiselle and how they had taught her to sew and embroider. Once she +told him the story of her first meeting with Donal--but she passed over +the tragedy of their first parting. + +"It was too sad," she said. + +He noticed that she never spoke of sad and dark hours. He was convinced +that she purposely avoided them and he was profoundly glad. + +"I know," she said once, "that you do not want me to talk to you about +the War." + +"Thank you for knowing it," he answered. "I come here on a pilgrimage to +a shrine where peace is. Darreuch is my shrine." + +"It is mine, too," was her low response. + +"Yes, I think it is," his look at her was deep. Suddenly but gently he +laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"I beg you," he said fervently, "I _beg_ you never to allow yourself to +think of it. Blot the accursed thing out of the Universe while--you are +here. For you there must be no war." + +"How kind his face looked," was Robin's thought as he hesitated a +second and then went on: + +"I know very little of such--sacrosanct things as mothers and children, +but lately I have had fancies of a place for them where there are only +smiles and happiness and beauty--as a beginning." + +It was she who now put her hand on his arm. "Little Darreuch is like +that--and you gave it to me," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + + +Lord Coombe was ushered into the little drawing-room by an extremely +immature young footman who--doubtless as a consequence of his +immaturity--appeared upon the scene too suddenly. The War left one only +servants who were idiots or barely out of Board Schools, Feather said. +And in fact it was something suggesting "a scene" upon which Coombe was +announced. The athletic and personable young actor--entitled upon +programmes Owen Delamore--was striding to and fro talking excitedly. +There was theatrical emotion in the air and Feather, delicately flushed +and elate, was listening with an air half frightened, half pleased. The +immaturity of the footman immediately took fright and the youth turning +at once produced the fatal effect of fleeing precipitately. + +Mr. Owen Delamore suddenly ceased speaking and would doubtless have +flushed vividly if he had not already been so high of colour as to +preclude the possibility of his flushing at all. The scene, which was +plainly one of emotion, being intruded upon in its midst left him +transfixed on his expression of anguish, pleading and reproachful +protest--all thrilling and confusing things. + +The very serenity of Lord Coombe's apparently unobserving entrance was +perhaps a shock as well as a relief. It took even Feather two or three +seconds to break into her bell of a laugh as she shook hands with her +visitor. + +"Mr. Delamore is going over his big scene in the new play," she +explained with apt swiftness of resource. "It's very good, but it +excites him dreadfully. I've been told that great actors don't let +themselves get excited at all, so he ought not to do it, ought he, Lord +Coombe?" + +Coombe was transcendently well behaved. + +"I am a yawning abyss of ignorance in such matters, but I cannot agree +with the people who say that emotion can be expressed without feeling." +He himself expressed exteriorly merely intelligent consideration of the +idea. "That however may be solely the opinion of one benighted." + +It was so well done that the young athlete, in the relief of relaxed +nerves, was almost hysterically inclined to believe in Feather's adroit +statement and to feel that he really had been acting. He was at least +able to pull himself together, to become less flushed and to sit down +with some approach to an air of being lightly amused at himself. + +"Well it is proved that I am not a great actor," he achieved. "I can't +come anywhere near doing it. I don't believe Irving ever did--or +Coquelin. But perhaps it is one of my recommendations that I don't +aspire to be great. At any rate people only ask to be amused and helped +out just now. It will be a long time before they want anything else, +it's my opinion." + +They conversed amiably together for nearly a quarter of an hour before +Mr. Owen Delamore went on his way murmuring polite regrets concerning +impending rehearsals, his secret gratitude expressing itself in special +courtesy to Lord Coombe. + +As he was leaving the room, Feather called to him airily: + +"If you hear any more of the Zepps--just dash in and tell me!--Don't +lose a minute! Just dash!" + +When the front door was heard to close upon him, Coombe remarked +casually: + +"I will ask you to put an immediate stop to that sort of thing." + +He observed that Feather fluttered--though she had lightly moved to a +table as if to rearrange a flower in a group. + +"Put a stop to letting Mr. Delamore go over his scene here?" + +"Put a stop to Mr. Delamore, if you please." + +It was at this moment more than ever true that her light being was +overstrung and that her light head whirled too fast. This one particular +also overstrung young man had shared all her amusements with her and had +ended by pleasing her immensely--perhaps to the verge of inspiring a +touch of fevered sentiment she had previously never known. She told +herself that it was the War when she thought of it. She had however not +been clever enough to realise that she was a little losing her head in a +way which might not be to her advantage. For the moment she lost it +completely. She almost whirled around as she came to Coombe. + +"I won't," she exclaimed. "I won't!" + +It was a sort of shock to him. She had never done anything like it +before. It struck him that he had never before seen her look as she +looked at the moment. She was a shade too dazzlingly made up--she had +crossed the line on one side of which lies the art which is perfect. +Even her dress had a suggestion of wartime lack of restraint in its +style and colours. + +It was of a strange green and a very long scarf of an intensely vivid +violet spangled with silver paillettes was swathed around her bare +shoulders and floated from her arms. One of the signs of her excitement +was that she kept twisting its ends without knowing that she was +touching it. He noted that she wore a big purple amethyst ring--the +amethyst too big. Her very voice was less fine in its inflections and as +he swiftly took in these points Coombe recognised that they were the +actual result of the slight tone of raffishness he had observed as +denoting the character of her increasingly mixed circle. + +She threw herself into a chair palpitating in one of her rages of a +little cat--wreathing her scarf round and round her wrist and singularly +striking him with the effect of almost spitting and hissing out her +words. + +"I won't give up everything I like and that likes me," she flung out. +"The War has done something to us all. It's made us let ourselves go. +It's done something to me too. It's made me less frightened. I won't be +bullied into--into things." + +"Do I seem to bully you? I am sorry." + +The fact that she had let herself go with the rest of the world got the +better of her. + +"You have not been near me for weeks and now you turn up with your air +of a grand Bashawe and order people out of my house. You have not been +near me." + +The next instant it was as though she tore off some last shred of mental +veiling and threw it aside in her reckless mounting heat of temper. + +"Near me!" she laughed scathingly, "For the matter of that when have you +ever been _near_ me? It's always been the same. I've known it for years. +As the Yankees say, you 'wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole.' I'm +sick of it. What did you _do_ it for?" + +"Do what?" + +"Take possession of me as if I were your property. You never were in +love with me--never for a second. If you had been you'd have married +me." + +"Yes. I should have married you." + +"There was no reason why you should not. I was pretty. I was young. I'd +been decently brought up--and it would have settled everything. Why +_didn't_ you instead of letting people think I was your mistress when I +didn't count for as much as a straw in your life?" + +"You represented more than that," he answered. "Kindly listen to me." + +That she had lost her head completely was sufficiently manifested by the +fact that she had begun to cry--which made it necessary for her to use +her handkerchief with inimitable skill to prevent the tears from +encroaching on her brilliant white and rose. + +"If you had been in love with me--" she chafed bitterly. + +"On the morning some years ago when I came to you I made myself clear to +the best of my ability," he said. "I did not mention love. I told you +that I had no intention of marrying you. I called your attention to what +the world would assume. I left the decision to you." + +"What could I do--without a penny? Some other man would have had to do +it if you had not," the letting go rushed her into saying. + +"Or you would have been obliged to return to your parents in +Jersey--which you refused to contemplate." + +"Of course I refused. It would have been mad to do it. And there were +other people who would have paid my bills." + +"Solely because I knew that, I made my proposition. Being much older +than you I realised that other people might not feel the responsibility +binding--and permanent." + +She sat up and stared at him. There was no touch of the rancour of +recrimination in his presentation of detached facts. He _was_ different +from the rest. He was always better dressed and the perfection of his +impersonal manner belonged to a world being swept away. He made Mr. Owen +Delamore seem by contrast a bounder and an outsider. But the fact which +had in the secret places of her small mind been the fly in her +ointment--the one fact that he had never for a moment cared a straw for +her--caused her actually to hate him as he again made it, quite without +prejudice, crystal clear. It was true that he had more than kept his +word--that he had never broken a convention in his bearing towards +her--that in his rigid way he had behaved like a prince--but she had +been dirt under his feet--she had been dirt under his feet! She wanted +to rave like a fishwife--though there were no fishwives in Mayfair. + +It was at this very moment of climax that a sudden memory beset her. + +"Rob always said that if a woman who was pretty could see a man often +enough--again and again--he couldn't _help_ himself--unless there _was_ +some one else!" + +Her last words were fiercely accusing. She quite glared at him a few +seconds, her chest heaving pantingly. + +She suddenly sprang from her sofa and dashed towards a table where a +pile of photographs lay in an untidy little heap. She threw them about +with angrily shaking hands until at last she caught at one and brought +it back to him. + +"There _was_ some one else," she laughed shrilly. "You were in love with +that creature." + +It was one of the photographs of Alixe such as the Bond Street shop had +shown in its windows. + +She made a movement as if to throw it into the grate and he took it from +her hand, saying nothing whatever. + +"I'd forgotten about it until Owen Delamore reminded me only yesterday," +she said. "He's a romantic thing and he heard that you had been in +attendance and had been sent to their castle in Germany. He worked the +thing out in his own way. He said you had chosen me because I was like +her. I can see now! I _was_ like her!" + +"If you had been like her," his voice was intensely bitter, "I should +have asked you to be my wife. You are as unlike her as one human being +can be to another." + +"But I was enough like her to make you take me up!" she cried furiously. + +"I have neither taken you up nor put you down," he answered. "Be good +enough never to refer to the subject again." + +"I'll refer to any subject I like. If you think I shall not you are +mistaken. It will be worth talking about. An Early Victorian romance is +worth something in these days." + +The trend of her new circle had indeed carried her far. He was privately +appalled by her. She was hysterically, passionately spiteful--almost to +the point of malignance. + +"Do you realise that this is a scene? It has not been our habit to +indulge in scenes," he said. + +"I shall speak about it as freely as I shall speak about Robin," she +flaunted at him, wholly unrestrained. "Do you think I know nothing about +Robin? I'm an affectionate mother and I've been making inquiries. She's +not with the Dowager at Eaton Square. She got ill and was sent away to +be hidden in the country. Girls are, sometimes. I thought she would be +sent away somewhere, the day I met her in the street. She looked +exactly like that sort of thing. Where is she? I demand to know." + +There is nothing so dangerous to others as the mere spitefully malignant +temper of an empty headed creature giving itself up to its own weak +fury. It knows no restraint, no limit in its folly. In her fantastic +broodings over her daughter's undue exaltation of position Feather had +many times invented for her own entertainment little scenes in which she +could score satisfactorily. Such scenes had always included Coombe, the +Dowager, Robin and Mrs. Muir. + +"I am her mother. She is not of age. I _can_ demand to see her. I can +make her come home and stay with me while I see her through her +'trouble,' as pious people call it. She's got herself into trouble--just +like a housemaid. I knew she would--I warned her," and her laugh was +actually shrill. + +It was inevitable--and ghastly--that he should suddenly see Robin with +her white eyelids dropped over her basket of sewing by the window in the +Tower room at Darreuch. It rose as clear as a picture on a screen and he +felt sick with actual terror. + +"I'll go to the Duchess and ask her questions until she can't face me +without telling the truth. If she's nasty I'll talk to the War Work +people who crowd her house. They all saw Robin and the wide-awake ones +will understand when I'm maternal and tragic and insist on knowing. I'll +go to Mrs. Muir and talk to her. It will be fun to see her face and the +Duchess'." + +He had never suspected her of malice such as this. And even in the midst +of his ghastly dismay he saw that it was merely the malice of an angrily +spiteful selfish child of bad training and with no heart. There was +nothing to appeal to--nothing to arrest and control. She might repent +her insanity in a few days but for the period of her mood she would do +her senseless worst. + +"Your daughter has not done what you profess to believe," he said. "You +do not believe it. Will you tell me why you propose to do these things?" + +She had worked herself up to utter recklessness. + +"Because of _everything_," she spat forth. "Because I'm in a +rage--because I'm sick of her and her duchesses. And I'm most sick of +you hovering about her as if she were a princess of the blood and you +were her Grand Chamberlain. Why don't you marry her yourself--baby and +all! Then you'll be sure there'll be another Head of the House of +Coombe!" + +She knew then that she had raved like a fishwife--that, even though +there had before been no fishwives in Mayfair, he saw one standing +shrilling before him. It was in his eyes and she knew it before she had +finished speaking, for his look was maddening. It enraged her even +further and she shook in the air the hand with the big purple amethyst +ring, still clutching the end of the bedizened purple scarf. She was +intoxicated with triumph--for she had reached him. + +"I will! I will!" she cried. "I will--to-morrow!" + +"You will not!" his voice rang out as she had never heard it before. He +even took a step forward. Then came the hurried leap of feet up the +narrow staircase and Owen Delamore flung the door wide, panting: + +"You told me to dash in," he almost shouted. "They're coming! We can +rush round to the Sinclairs'. They're on the roof already!" + +She caught the purple scarf around her and ran towards him, for at this +new excitement her frenzy reached its highest note. + +"I will! I will!" she called back to Coombe as she fled out of the room +and she held up and waved at him again the hand with the big amethyst. +"I will, to-morrow!" + + * * * * * + +Lord Coombe was left standing in the garish, crowded little drawing-room +listening to ominous sounds in the street--to cries, running feet and +men on fleeing bicycles shouting warnings as they sped at top speed and +strove to clear the way. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +It was one of the raids which left hellish things behind it--things +hushed with desperate combined effort to restrain panic, but which +blighted the air people strove to breathe and kept men and women +shuddering for long after and made people waken with sharp cries from +nightmares of horror. Certain paled faces belonged to those who had seen +things and would never forget them. Others strove to look defiant and +cheerful and did not find it easy. Some tried to get past policemen to +certain parts of the city and some, getting past, returned livid and +less adventurous in spirit because they had heard things it was gruesome +to hear. Lord Coombe went the next morning to the slice of a house and +found the servants rather hysterical. Feather had not returned, but they +were not hysterical for that reason. She had probably remained at the +house to which she had gone to see the Zepps. After the excitement was +over, people like the Sinclairs were rather inclined to restore +themselves by making a night of it, so to speak. + +As "to-morrow" had now arrived, Lord Coombe wished to see her on her +return. He had in fact lain awake thinking of plans of defence but had +so far been able to decide on none. If there had been anything to touch, +to appeal to, there might have been some hope, but she had left taste +and fastidiousness scattered in shreds behind her. The War, as she put +it, had made her less afraid of life. She had in fact joined the army of +women who could always live so long as their beauty lasted. At the +beginning of her relations with Lord Coombe she had belonged in a sense +to a world which now no longer existed in its old form. Possibly there +would soon be neither courts nor duchesses and so why should anything +particularly matter? There were those who were taking cataclysms lightly +and she was among them. If her airy mind chanced to have veered and her +temper died down, money or jewels might induce her to keep quiet if one +could endure the unspeakable indignity of forcing oneself to offer +them. She would feel such an offer no indignity and would probably +regard it as a tremendous joke. But she could no more be trusted than a +female monkey or jackdaw. + +Lord Coombe sat among the gewgaws in the drawing room and waited because +he must see her when she came in and at least discover if the weather +cock had veered. + +After waiting an hour or more he heard a taxi arrive at the front door +and stop there. He went to the window to see who got out of the vehicle. +It gave him a slight shock to recognise a man he knew well. He wore +plain clothes, but he was a member of the police force. + +He evidently came into the house and stopped in the hall to talk to the +immature footman who presently appeared at the drawing-room door, +looking shaken because he had been questioned and did not know what it +portended. + +"What is the matter?" Lord Coombe assisted him with. + +"Some one who is asking about Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. He doesn't seem +satisfied with what I tell him. I took the liberty of saying your +lordship was here and perhaps you'd see him." + +"Bring him upstairs." + +It was in fact a man who knew Lord Coombe well enough to be aware that +he need make no delay. + +"It was one of the worst, my lord," he said in answer to Coombe's first +question. "We've had hard work--and the hardest of it was to hold +things--people--back." He looked hag-ridden as he went on without any +preparation. He was too tired for prefaces. + +"There was a lady who went out of here last night. She was with a +gentleman. They were running to a friend's house to see things from the +roof. They didn't get there. The gentleman is in the hospital delirious +to-day. He doesn't know what happened. It's supposed something +frightened her and she lost her wits and ran away. The gentleman tried +to follow her but the lights were out and he couldn't find her in the +dark streets. The running about and all the noises and crashes sent him +rather wild perhaps. Trying to find a frightened woman in the midst of +all that--and not finding her--" + +"What ghastly--damnable thing has happened?" Coombe asked with stiff +lips. + +"It's both," the man said, "--it's both." + +He produced a package and opened it. There was a torn and stained piece +of spangled violet gauze folded in it and on top was a little cardboard +box which he opened also to show a ring with a big amethyst in it set +with pearls. + +"Good God!" Coombe ejaculated, getting up from his chair hastily, "Oh! +Good God!" + +"You know them?" the man asked. + +"Yes. I saw them last night--before she went out." + +"She ran the wrong way--she must have been crazy with fright. This--" +the man hesitated a second here and pulled himself together, "--this is +all that was found except--" + +"Good God!" said Lord Coombe again and he walked to and fro rapidly, +trying to hold his body rigid. + +"The gentleman--his name is Delamore--went on looking--after the raid +was over. Some one saw him running here and there as if he had gone +crazy. He was found afterwards where he'd fainted--near a woman's hand +with this ring on and the piece of scarf in it. He's a strong young chap +but he'd fainted dead. He was carried to the hospital and to-day he's +delirious." + +"There--was nothing more?" shuddered Coombe. + +"Nothing, my lord." + + * * * * * + +Out of unbounded space embodied nothingness had seemed to float across +the world of living things, and into space the nothingness had +disappeared--leaving behind a trinket and a rent scrap of purple gauze. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + + +Six weeks later Coombe was driven again up the climbing road to +Darreuch. There was something less of colour than usual in his face, but +the slightly vivid look of shock observing persons had been commenting +upon had died out. As he had travelled, leaning back upon the cushions +of the railway carriage, he had kept his eyes closed for the greater +part of the journey. When at last he began to open them and look out at +the increasingly beautiful country he also began to look rested and +calm. He already felt the nearing peace of the shrine and added to it +was an immense relaxing and uplift. A girl of a type entirely different +from Robin's might, he knew, have made him feel during the past months +as if he were taking part in a melodrama. This she had wholly saved him +from by the clear simplicity of her natural acceptance of all things as +they were. She had taken and given without a word. He was, as it were, +going home to her now, as deeply thrilled and moved as a totally +different type of man might have gone--a man who was simpler. + +The things he might once have been and felt were at work within him. +Again he longed to see the girl--he _wanted_ to see her. He was going to +the castle in response to a telegram from Dowie. All was well over. She +was safe. For the rest, all calamity had been kept from her knowledge +and, as he had arranged it, the worst would never reach her. In course +of time she would learn all it was necessary that she should know of her +mother's death. + +When Mrs. Macaur led him to one of his own rooms she glowed red and +expectantly triumphant. + +"The young lady, your lordship--it was wonderfu'!" + +But before she had time to say more Dowie had appeared and her face was +smooth and serene to marvellousness. + +"The Almighty himself has been in this place, my lord," she said +devoutly. "I didn't send more than a word, because she's like a +schoolroom child about it. She wants to tell you herself." The woman was +quivering with pure joy. + +"May I see her?" + +"She's waiting, my lord." + +Honey scents of gorse and heather blew softly through the open windows +of the room he was taken to. He did not know enough of such things to be +at all sure what he had expected to see--but what he moved quickly +towards, the moment after his entrance, was Robin lying fair as a wild +rose on her pillows--not pale, not tragic, but with her eyes wide and +radiant as a shining child's. + +Her smiling made his heart stand still. He really could not speak. But +she could and turned back the covering to show him what lay in her soft +curved arm. + +"He is not like me at all," was her joyous exulting. "He is exactly like +Donal." + + * * * * * + +The warm, tender breathing, semi-dormant, scarcely sentient-seeming +thing might indeed have been the reincarnation of what had in the past +so peculiarly reached bodily perfection. Robin, who mysteriously knew +every line and curve of the new-born body, could point out how each limb +and feature was an embryonic replica. + +"Though he looks so tiny, he is not really little," was her lovely +yearning boast. "He is really very big. Dowie has known hundreds of +babies and they were none of them as big as he is. He is a giant--an +angel giant," burying her face in the soft red neck. + +"It seemed to change me into another type of man," Coombe once said to +the Duchess. + +The man into whom he had been transformed was he who lived through the +next few days at Darreuch even as though life were a kindly faithful +thing. Many other men, he told himself, must have lived as he did and he +wondered if any of them ever forgot it. It was a thing set apart. + +He sat by Robin's side; they talked together; he retired to his own +rooms or went out for a long walk, coming back to her to talk again, or +read aloud, or to consider with her the marvel of the small thing by her +side, examining curled hands and feet with curious interest. + +"But though they look so little, they are not really," she always said. +"See how long his fingers are and how they taper. And his foot is long, +too, and narrow and arched. Donal's was like it." + +"Was," she said, and he wondered if she might not feel a pang as he +himself did. + +He wondered often and sometimes, when he sat alone in his room at night, +found something more than wonder in his mind--something that, if she had +not forbidden it, would have been fear because of strange things he saw +in her. + +He could not question her. He dared not even remotely touch on the +dream. She was so well, her child was so well. She was as any young +mother might have been who could be serene in her husband's absence +because she knew he was safe and would soon return. + +"Is she always as calm?" he once asked Dowie. "Does she never seem to be +reminded of what would have been if he were alive?" + +Dowie shook her head and he saw that the old anxiousness came back upon +her. + +"My lord, she believes he _is_ alive when she sees him. That's what +troubles me even in my thankfulness. I don't understand, God help me! I +was afraid when she saw the child that it might all come over her again +in a way that would do her awful harm. But when I laid the little thing +down by her she just lay there herself and looked at it as if something +was uplifting her. And in a few seconds she whispered, 'He is like +Donal.' And then she said to herself, soft but quite clear, 'Donal, +Donal!' And never a tear rose. Perhaps," hesitating over it, "it's the +blessedness of _time_. A child's a wonderful thing--and so is time. +Sometimes," a queer sigh broke from her, "when I've been hard put to it +by trouble, I've said to myself, 'Well the Almighty did give us +_time_--whatever else he takes away.'" + +But Coombe mysteriously felt that it was not merely time which had +calmed her, though any explanation founded on material reasoning became +more remote each day. The thought which came to him at times had no +connection with temporal things. He found he was gravely asking himself +what aspect mere life would have worn if Alixe had come to him every +night in such form as had given him belief in the absolute reality of +her being. If he had been convinced that he heard the voice of Alixe--if +she had smiled and touched him with her white hands as she had never +touched him in life--if her eyes had been unafraid and they had spoken +together "only of happy things"--and had understood as one soul--what +could the mere days have held of hurt? There was only one possible reply +and it seemed to explain his feeling that she was sustained by something +which was not alone the mere blessedness of time. + +He became conscious one morning of the presence of a new expression in +her eyes. There was a brave radiance in them and, before, he had known +that in their radiance there had been no necessity for bravery. He felt +a subtle but curious difference. + +Her child had been long asleep and she lay like a white dove on her +pillows when he came to make his brief good-night visit. She was very +still and seemed to be thinking. Her touch on his arm was as the touch +of a butterfly when she at last put out her hand to him. + +"He may not come to-night," she said. + +He put his own hand over hers and hoped it was done quietly. + +"But to-morrow night?" trusting that his tone was quiet also. It must be +quiet. + +"Perhaps not for a good many nights. He does not know. I must not ask +things. I never do." + +"But it has been so wonderful that you know--" + +On what plane was he--on what plane was she? What plane were they +talking about with such undoubtingness? Heaven be praised his voice +actually sounded natural. + +"I do not know much--except that he is Donal. And I can never feel as if +I were dead again--never." + +"No," he answered. "Never!" + +She lay so still for a few minutes that if her eyes had not been open he +would have thought she was falling asleep. They were so dreamy that +perhaps she was falling asleep and he softly rose to leave her. + +"I think--he is trying to come nearer," she murmured. "Good-night, +dear." + + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + + +Ominous hours had come and gone; waves of gloom had surged in and +receded, but never receded far enough. It was as though the rising and +falling of some primaeval storm was the background of all thought and +life and its pandemonium of sound foretold the far-off heaving of some +vast tidal wave, gathering its unearthly power as it swelled. + +Coombe talking to his close friend in her few quiet hours at Eaton +Square, found a support in the very atmosphere surrounding her. + +"The world at war creates a prehistoric uproar," he said. "The earth +called out of chaos to take form may have produced some such tempestuous +crash. But there is a far-off glow--" + +"You believe--something--I believe too. But the prehistoric darkness and +uproar are so appalling. One loses hold." The Duchess leaned forward her +voice dropping. "What do you know that I do not?" + +"The light usually breaks in the East," Coombe answered. + +"It is breaking in the West to-day. It has always been there and it has +been spreading from the first. At any moment it may set the sky aflame." + +For as time had gone on the world had beheld the colossal spectacle of a +huge nation in the melting pot. And, as it was as a nation the composite +result of the fusion of all the countries of the earth, the +breath-suspended lookers-on beheld it in effect, passionately +commercial, passionately generous, passionately sordid, passionately +romantic, chivalrous, cautious, limited, bounded. As American wealth and +sympathy poured in where need was most dire, bitterness became silent +through sheer discretion's sake, when for no more honest reason. As the +commercial tendency expressed itself in readiness and efficiency, +sneering condemnation had become less loud. + +"It will happen. It is the result of the ideals really," Coombe said +further. "And it will come to pass at the exact psychological moment. If +they had come in at the beginning they would have faced the first full +force of the monstrous tidal wave of the colossal German belief in its +own omnipotence--and they would have faced it unawakened, unenraged by +monstrosities and half incredulous of the truth. It was not even their +fight then--and raw fighters need a flaming cause. But the tower of +agonies has built itself to its tottering height before their blazing +eyes. Now it is their fight because it is the fight of the whole world. +Others have borne the first fierce heat and burden of the day, but they +will rush in young and untouched by calamity--bounding, shouting and +singing. They will come armed with all that long-borne horrors and +maddening human fatigue most need. I repeat--it will occur at the exact +psychological moment. They will bring red-hot blood and furious +unbounded courage-- And it will be the end." + +In fact Coombe waited with a tense sensation of being too tightly +strung. He had hours when he felt that something might snap. But nothing +must snap yet. He was too inextricably entangled in the arduous work +even to go to Darreuch for rest. He did not go for weeks. All was well +there however--marvellously well it seemed, even when he held in mind a +letter from Robin which had ended:-- + +"He has not come back. But I am not afraid. I promised him I would never +be afraid again." + +In dark and tired hours he steadied himself with a singular +half-realised belief that she would not--that somehow some strange thing +would be left to her, whatsoever was taken away. It was because he felt +as if he were nearing the end of his tether. He had become +hypersensitive to noises, to the sounds in the streets, to the strain +and grief in faces he saw as he walked or drove. + + * * * * * + +After lying awake all one night without a moment of blank peace he came +down pale and saw that his hand shook as he held his coffee cup. It was +a livid sort of morning and when he went out for the sake of exercise he +found he was looking at each of the strained faces as if it held some +answer to an unformed question. He realised that the tenseness of both +mind and body had increased. For no reason whatever he was restrung by a +sense of waiting for something--as if something were going to happen. + +He went back to Coombe House and when he crossed the threshold he +confronted the elderly unliveried man who had stood at his place for +years--and the usually unperturbed face was agitated so nearly to panic +that he stopped and addressed him. + +"Has anything happened?" + +"My lord--a Red Cross nurse--has brought"--he was actually quite +unsteady--too unsteady to finish, for the next moment the Red Cross +nurse was at his side--looking very whitely fresh and clean and with a +nice, serious youngish face. + +"I need not prepare you for good news--even if it is a sort of shock," +she said, watching him closely. "I have brought Captain Muir back to +you." + +"You have brought--?" he exclaimed. + +"He has been in one of the worst German prisons. He was left for dead on +the field and taken prisoner. We must not ask him questions. I don't +know why he is alive. He escaped, God knows how. At this time he does +not know himself. I saw him on the boat. He asked me to take charge of +him," she spoke very quickly. "He is a skeleton, poor boy. Come." + +She led the way to his own private room. She went on talking short +hurried sentences, but he scarcely heard her. This, then, was what he +had been waiting for. Why had he not known? This tremendous thing was +really not so tremendous after all because it had happened in other +cases before-- Yet he had never once thought of it. + +"He would not let his wife or his mother see him until he looked more +like himself," he heard the Red Cross nurse say as he entered the room. + +Donal was lying stretched at full length on a sofa. He looked abnormally +long, because he was so thin that he was, as the nurse had said, a +skeleton. His face was almost a death's head, but his blue eyes looked +out of their great hollow sockets clear as tarn water, and with the +smile which Coombe would not have forgotten howsoever long life had +dragged out. + +"Be very careful!" whispered the nurse. + +He knew he must be careful. Only the eyes were alive. The body was a +collapsed thing. He seemed scarcely breathing, his voice was a thread. + +"Robin!" Coombe caught as he bent close to him. "Robin!" + +"She is well, dear boy!" How his voice shook! "I have taken care of +her." + +The light leaped up into the blue for a second. The next the lids +dropped and the nurse sprang forward because he had slipped into a faint +so much like death that it might well have rent hope from a looker-on. + +For the next hour, and indeed for many following, there was unflagging +work to be done. The Red Cross Nurse was a capable, swiftly moving +woman, with her resources at her finger's ends, and her quick wits about +her. Almost immediately two doctors from the staff, in charge of the +rooms upstairs were on the spot and at work with her. By what +lightning-flashed sentences she conveyed to them, without pausing for a +second, the facts it was necessary for them to know, was +incomprehensible to Coombe, who could only stand afar off and wait, +watching the dead face. Its sunken temples, cheeks and eyes, and the +sharply carven bone outline were heart gripping. + +It seemed hours before one of the doctors as he bent over the couch +whispered, + +"The breathing is a little better--" + +It was not possible that he should be moved, but the couch was broad and +deeply upholstered and could be used temporarily as a bed. Every +resource of medical science was within reach. Nurse Jones, who had been +on her way home to take a rest, was so far ensnared by unusual interest +that she wished to be allowed to remain on duty. There were other nurses +who could be called on at any moment of either night or day. There were +doctors of indisputable skill who were also fired by the mere histrionic +features of the case. The handsome, fortunate young fellow who had been +supposed torn to fragments had by some incomprehensible luck been aided +to drag himself home--perhaps to die of pure exhaustion. + +Was it really hours before Coombe saw the closed eyes weakly open? But +the smile was gone and they seemed to be looking at something not in +the room. + +"They will come--in," the words dragged out scarcely to be heard. +"Jackson--said--said--they--would." The eyes dropped again and the +breathing was a mere flutter. + +Nurse Jones was in fact filled with much curiosity concerning and +interest in the Marquis of Coombe. She was a clever and well trained +person, but socially a simple creature, who in an inoffensive way "loved +a lord." If her work had not absorbed her she could not have kept her +eyes from this finely conventional and rather unbending-looking man +who--keeping himself out of the way of all who were in charge of the +seemingly almost dead boy--still would not leave the room, and watched +him with a restrained passion of such feeling as it was not natural to +see in the eyes of men. Marquis or not he had gone through frightful +things in his life and this boy meant something tremendous to him. If he +couldn't be brought back--! Despite the work her swift eye darted +sideways at the Marquis. + +When at length another nurse took her place and she was going out of the +room, he moved quickly towards her and spoke. + +"May I ask if I may speak to you alone for a few minutes? I have no +right to keep you from your rest. I assure you I won't." + +"I'll come," she answered. What she saw in the man's face was that, +because she had brought the boy, he actually clung to her. She had been +clung to many times before, but never by a man who looked quite like +this. There was _more_ than you could see. + +He led her to a smaller room near by. He made her sit down, but he did +not sit himself. It was plain that he did not mean to keep her from her +bed--though he was in hard case if ever man was. His very determination +not to impose on her caused her to make up her mind to tell him all she +could, though it wasn't much. + +"Captain Muir's mother believes that he is dead," he said. "It is plain +that no excitement must approach him--even another person's emotion. He +was her idol. She is in London. _Must_ I send for her--or would it be +safe to wait?" + +"There have been minutes to-day when if I'd known he had a mother I +should have said she must be sent for," was her answer. "To-night I +believe--yes, I _do_--that it would be better to wait and watch. Of +course the doctors must really decide." + +"Thank you. I will speak to them. But I confess I wanted to ask _you_." +How he did cling to her! + +"Thank you," he said again. "I will not keep you." + +He opened the door and waited for her to pass--as if she had been a +marchioness herself, she thought. In spite of his desperate eyes he +didn't forget a single thing. He so moved her that she actually turned +back. + +"You don't know anything yet-- Some one you're fond of coming back from +the grave must make you half mad to know how it happened," she said. "I +don't know much myself, but I'll tell you all I was able to find out. He +was light headed when I found him trying to get on the boat. When I +spoke to him he just caught my hand and begged me to stay with him. He +wanted to get to you. He'd been wandering about, starved and hiding. If +he'd been himself he could have got help earlier. But he'd been ill +treated and had seen things that made him lose his balance. He couldn't +tell a clear story. He was too weak to talk clearly. But I asked +questions now and then and listened to every word he said when he +rambled because of his fever. Jackson was a fellow prisoner who died of +hemorrhage brought on by brutality. Often I couldn't understand him, but +he kept bringing in the name of Jackson. One thing puzzled me very much. +He said several times 'Jackson taught me to dream of Robin. I should +never have seen Robin if I hadn't known Jackson.' Now 'Robin' is a boy's +name--but he said 'her' and 'she' two or three times as if it were a +girl's." + +"Robin is his wife," said Coombe. He really found the support of the +door he still held open, useful for the moment. + +An odd new interest sharpened in her eyes. + +"Then he's been dreaming of her." She almost jerked it out--as if in +sudden illumination almost relief. "He's been dreaming of her--! And it +may have kept him alive." She paused as if she were asking questions of +her own mind. "I wonder," dropped from her in slow speculation, "if she +has been dreaming of _him_?" + +"He was not dead--he was not an angel--he was Donal!" Robin had +persisted from the first. He had not been dead. In some incredibly +hideous German prison--in the midst of inhuman horrors and the blackness +of what must have been despair--he had been alive, and had dreamed as +she had. + +Nurse Jones looked at him, waiting. Even if nurses had not been, +presumably, under some such bond of honourable secrecy as constrained +the medical profession, he knew she was to be trusted. Her very look +told him. + +"She did dream of him," he said. "She was slipping fast down the slope +to death and he caught her back. He saved her life and her child's. She +was going to have a child." + +They were both quite silent for a few moments. The room was still. Then +the woman drew her hand with a quick odd gesture across her forehead. + +"Queer things happened in the last century, but queerer ones are going +to happen in this--if people will let them. Doctors and nurses see and +think a lot they can't talk about. They're always on the spot at what +seems to be the beginning and the ending. These black times have opened +up the ways. 'Queer things,' I said," with sudden forcefulness. "They're +not queer. It's only laws we haven't known about. It's the writing on +the scroll that we couldn't read. We're just learning the alphabet." +Then after a minute more of thought, "Those two--were they particularly +fond of each other--more to each other than most young couples?" + +"They loved each other the hour they first met--when they were little +children. It was an unnatural shock to them both when they were parted. +They seemed to be born mated for life." + +"That was the reason," she said quite relievedly. "I can understand +that. It's as orderly as the stars." Then she added with a sudden, +strong, quite normal conviction, and her tiredness seemed to drop from +her, "He won't die--that beautiful boy," she said. "He can't. It's not +meant. They're going on, those three. He's the most splendid human thing +I ever handled--skeleton as he is. His very bones are magnificent as he +lies there. And that smile of his that's deep in the blue his eyes are +made of--it can only flicker up for a second now--but it can't go out. +He's safe, even this minute, though you mayn't believe it." + +"I do believe it," Coombe said. + +And he stood there believing it, when she went through the open door and +left him. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + + +It was long before the dropped eyelids could lift and hold themselves +open for more than a few seconds and long before the eyes wore their old +clear look. The depths of the collapse after prolonged tortures of +strain and fear was such as demanded a fierce and unceasing fight of +skill and unswerving determination on the part of both doctors and +nurses. There were hours when what seemed to be strange, deathly drops +into abysses of space struck terror into most of those who stood by +looking on. But Nurse Jones always believed and so did Coombe. + +"You needn't send for his mother yet," she said without flinching. "You +and I know something the others don't know, Lord Coombe. That child and +her baby are holding him back though they don't know anything about it." + +It revealed itself to him that her interest in things occult and +apparently unexplained by material processes had during the last few +years intensely absorbed her in private. Her feeling, though intense, +was intelligent and her processes of argument were often convincing. He +became willing to answer her questions because he felt sure of her. He +lent her the books he had been reading and in her hard-earned hours of +leisure she plunged deep into them. + +"Perhaps I read sometimes when I ought to be sleeping, but it rests +me--I tell you it _rests_ me. I'm finding out that there's strength +outside of all this and you can draw on it. It's there waiting," she +said. "Everybody will know about its being there--in course of time." + +"But the time seems long," said Coombe. + +Concerning the dream she had many interesting theories. She was at first +disturbed and puzzled because it had stopped. She was anxious to find +out whether it had come back again, but, like Lord Coombe, she realised +that Robin's apparent calm must on no account be disturbed. If her +health-giving serenity could be sustained for a certain length of time, +the gates of Heaven would open to her. But at first Nurse Jones asked +herself and Lord Coombe some troubled questions. + +It came about at length that she appeared one night, in the room where +their first private talk had taken place and she had presented herself +on her way to bed, because she had something special to say. + +"It came to me when I awakened this morning as if it had been told to me +in the night. Things often seem to come that way. Do you remember, Lord +Coombe, that she said they only talked about happy things?" + +"Yes. She said it several times," Coombe answered. + +"Do you remember that he never told her where he came from? And she knew +that she must not ask questions? How _could_ he have told her of that +hell--how could he?" + +"You are right--quite!" + +"I feel sure I am. When he can talk he will tell you--if he remembers. I +wonder how much they remember--except the relief and the blessed +happiness of it? Lord Coombe, I believe as I believe I'm in this room, +that when he knew he was going to face the awful risk of trying to +escape, he knew he mustn't tell her. And he knew that in crawling +through dangers and hiding in ditches he could never be sure of being +able to lie down to sleep and concentrate on sending his soul to her. So +he told her that he might not come for some time. Oh, lord! If he'd been +caught and killed he could never-- No! No!" obstinately, "even then he +would have got back in some form--in some way. I've got to the point of +believing as much as that. He was hers!" + +"Yes. Yes. Yes," was all his slow answer. But there was deep thought in +each detached word and when she went away he walked up and down the room +with leisurely steps, looking down at the carpet. + + * * * * * + +As many hours of the day and night as those in authority would allow him +Lord Coombe sat and watched by Donal's bed. He watched from well hidden +anxiousness to see every subtle change recording itself on his being; he +watched from throbbing affection and longing to see at once any tinge of +growing natural colour, any unconscious movement perhaps a shade +stronger than the last. It was his son who lay there, he told himself, +it was the son he had remotely yearned for in his loneliness; if he had +been his father watching his sunk lids with bated breath, he would have +felt just these unmerciful pangs. + +He also watched because in the boy's hours of fevered unconsciousness he +could at times catch words--sometimes broken sentences, which threw +ghastly light upon things past. Sometimes their significance was such as +made him shudder. A condition the doctors most dreaded was one in which +monstrous scenes seem lived again--scenes in which cruelties and +maddening suffering and despairing death itself rose vividly from the +depth of subconsciousness and cried aloud for vengeance. Sometimes Donal +shuddered, tearing at his chest with both hands, more than once he lay +sobbing until only skilled effort prevented his sobs from becoming +choking danger. + +"It may be years after he regains his strength," the chief physician +said, "years before it will be safe to ask him for detail. On my own +part I would _never_ bring such horrors back to a man. You may have +noticed how the men who have borne most, absolutely refuse to talk." + +"It's an accursed fool who tries to make them," broke in one of the +younger men. "There was a fellow who had been pinned up against a barn +door and left to hang there--and a coarse, loud-mouthed lunatic asked +him to describe how it felt. The chap couldn't stand it. Do you know +what he did? He sprang at him and knocked him down. He apologized +afterwards and said it was his nerves. But there's not a man who was +there who will ever speak to that other brute again." + +The man whose name was Jackson seemed to be a clinging memory to the +skeleton when its mind wandered in the past Hades. He had been in some +way very close to the boy. He had died somehow--cruelly. There had been +blood--blood--and no one would help. Some devil had even laughed. When +that scene came back the doctors and nurses held their breath and +silently worked hard. Nothing seemed quite as heart-rending as what had +happened to Jackson. But there were endless other things to shudder at. + + * * * * * + +So the time passed and Nurse Jones found many times that she must stop +at his door on her way to her rest to say, "Don't look like that, Lord +Coombe. You need not send for his mother yet." + +Then at last--and it had been like travelling for months waterless in a +desert--she came in one day with a new and elate countenance. "Mrs. Muir +is a quiet, self-controlled woman, isn't she?" she asked. + +"Entirely self-controlled and very quiet," he answered. + +"Then if you will speak to Dr. Beresford about it I know he will allow +her to see Captain Muir for a few minutes. And, thank God, it's not +because if she doesn't see him now she'll never see him alive again. He +has all his life before him." + +"Please sit down, Nurse," Coombe spoke hastily and placed a chair as he +spoke. He did so because he had perceiving eyes. + +She sat down and covered her face with her apron for a moment. She made +no sound or movement, but caught a deep quick breath two or three times. +The relaxed strain had temporarily overpowered her. She uncovered her +face and got up almost immediately. She was not likely to give way +openly to her emotions. + +"Thank you, Lord Coombe," she said. "I've never had a case that gripped +hold of me as this has. I've often felt as though that poor half-killed +boy was more to me than he is. You might speak to Dr. Beresford now. +He's just gone in." + + * * * * * + +Therefore Lord Coombe went that afternoon to the house before which grew +the plane trees whose leaves had rustled in the dawn's first wind on the +morning Donal had sat and talked with his mother after the night of the +Dowager Duchess of Darte's dance. + +On his way his thoughts were almost uncontrollable things and he knew +the first demand of good sense was that he should control them. But he +was like an unbelievable messenger from another world--a dark world +unknown, because shadows hid it, and would not let themselves be pierced +by streaming human eyes. Donal was dead. This was what would fill this +woman's mind when he entered her house. Donal was dead. It was the +thought that had excluded all else from life for her, though he knew she +had gone on working as other broken women had done. What did people say +to women whose sons had been dead and had come back to life? It had +happened before. What _could_ one say to prepare them for the +transcendent shock of joy? What preparation could there be? + +"God help me!" he said to himself with actual devoutness as he stood at +the door. + +He had seen Helen Muir once or twice since the news of her loss had +reached her and she had looked like a most beautiful ghost and shadow of +herself. When she came into her drawing-room to meet him she was more of +a ghost and shadow than when they had last met and he saw her lips +quiver at the mere sight of him, though she came forward very quietly. + +Whatsoever helped him in response to his unconscious appeal brought to +him suddenly a wave of comprehension of her and of himself as creatures +unexpectedly near each other as they had never been before. The feeling +was remotely akin to what had been awakened in him by the pure gravity +and tenderness of Robin's baptismal good-bye kiss. He was human, she was +human, they had both been forced to bear suffering. He was bringing joy +to her. + +He met her almost as she entered the door. He made several quick steps +and he took both her hands in his and held them. It was a thing so +unheard of that she stopped and stood quite still, looking up at him. + +"Come and sit down here," he said, drawing her towards a sofa and he did +not let her hands go, and sat down at her side while she stared at him +and her breath began to come and go quickly. + +"What--?" she began, "You are changed--quite different--" + +"Yes, I am changed. Everything is changed--for us both!" + +"For us--" She touched her breast weakly. "For me--as well as you?" + +"Yes," he answered, and he still held her hands protectingly and kept +his altered eyes--the eyes of a strangely new man--upon her. They were +living, human, longing to help her--who had so long condemned him. His +hands were even warm and held hers as if to give her support. + +"You are a calm, well-balanced woman," he said. "And joy does not kill +people--even hurt them." + +There could be only one joy--only one! And she knew he knew there could +be no other. She sprang from her seat. + +"Donal!" she cried out so loud that the room rang. "Donal! Donal!" + +He was on his feet also because he still wonderfully did not let her go. + +"He is at my house. He has been there for weeks because we have had to +fight for his life. We should have called you if he had been dying. Only +an hour ago the doctor in charge gave me permission to come to you. You +may see him--for a few minutes." + +She began to tremble and sat down. + +"I shall be quiet soon," she said. "Oh, dear God! God! God! Donal!" + +Tears swept down her cheeks but he saw her begin to control herself even +the next moment. + +"May I speak to him at all?" she asked. + +"Kiss him and tell him you are waiting in the next room and can come +back any moment. What the hospital leaves free of Coombe House is at +your disposal." + +"God bless you! Oh, _forgive_ me!" + +"He escaped from a German prison by some miracle. He must be made to +forget. He must hear of nothing but happiness. There is happiness before +him--enough to force him to forget. You will accept anything he tells +you as if it were a natural thing?" + +"Accept!" she cried. "What would I _not_ accept, praising God! You are +preparing me for something. Ah! don't, don't be afraid! But--is it +maiming--darkness?" + +"No! No! It is a perfect thing. You must know it before you see him--and +be ready. Before he went to the Front he was married." + +"Married!" in a mere breath. + +Coombe went on in quick sentences. She must be prepared and she could +bear anything in the rapture of her joy. + +"He married in secret a lonely child whom the Dowager Duchess of Darte +had taken into her household. We have both taken charge of her since we +discovered she was his wife. We thought she was his widow. She has a +son. Before her marriage she was Robin Gareth-Lawless." + +"Ah!" she cried brokenly. "He would have told me--he wanted to tell +me--but he could not--because I was so hard! Oh! poor motherless +children!" + +"You never were hard, I could swear," Coombe said. "But perhaps you have +changed--as I have. If he had not thought I was hard he might have told +me-- Shall we go to him at once?" + +Together they went without a moment's delay. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + + +The dream had come back and Robin walked about the moor carrying her +baby in her arms, even though Dowie followed her. She laid him on the +heather and let him listen to the skylarks and there was in her face +such a look, that, in times past if she had seen it, Dowie would have +believed that it could only mean translation from earth. + +But when Lord Coombe came for a brief visit he took Dowie to walk alone +with him upon the moor. When they set out together she found herself +involuntarily stealing furtive sidelong glances at him. There was that +in his face which drew her eyes in spite of her. It was a look so +intense and new that once she caught her breath, trembling. It was then +that he turned to look at her and began to talk. He began--and went +on--and as she listened there came to her sudden flooding tears and more +than once a loud startled sob of joy. + +"But he begs that she shall not see him until he is less ghastly to +behold. He says the memory of such a face would tell her things she must +never know. His one thought is that she must not know. Things happen to +a man's nerves when he has seen and borne the ultimate horrors. Men have +gone mad under the prolonged torture. He sometimes has moments of +hideous collapse when he cannot shut out certain memories. He is more +afraid of such times than of anything else. He feels he must get hold of +himself." + +Dowie's step slackened until it stopped. Her almost awed countenance +told him what she felt she must know or perish. He felt that she had her +rights and one of them was the right to be told. She had been a strong +tower of honest faith and love. + +"My lord, might I ask if you have told him--all about it?" + +"Yes, Dowie," he answered. "All is well and no one but ourselves will +ever know. The marriage in the dark old church is no longer a marriage. +Only the first one--which he can prove--stands." + +The telling of his story to Donal had been a marvellous thing because he +had so controlled its drama that it had even been curiously undramatic. +He had made it a mere catalogued statement of facts. As Donal had lain +listening his heart had seemed to turn over in his breast. + +"If I had _known_ you!" he panted low. "If we had known each other! We +did not!" + +Later, bit by bit, he told him of Jackson--only of Jackson. He never +spoke of other things. When put together the "bit by bit" amounted to +this: + +"He was a queer, simple sort of American. He was full of ideals and a +kind of unbounded belief in his country. He had enlisted in Canada at +the beginning. He always believed America would come in. He was sure the +Germans knew she would and that was why they hated Americans. The more +they saw her stirred up, the more they hated the fellows they +caught--and the worse they treated them. They were hellish to Jackson!" + +He had stopped at this point and Coombe had noted a dreaded look dawning +in his eyes. + +"Don't go on, my boy. It's bad for you," he broke in. + +Donal shook his head a little as if to shake something away. + +"I won't go on with--that," he said. "But the dream--I must tell you +about that. It saved me from going mad--and Jackson did. He believed in +a lot of things I'd not heard of except as jokes. He called them New +Thought and Theosophy and Christian Science. He wasn't clever, but he +_believed_. And it helped him. When I'm stronger I'll try to tell you. +Subconscious mind and astral body came into it. I had begun to see +things--just through starvation and agony. I told him about Robin when I +scarcely knew what I was saying. He tried to hold me quiet by saying her +name to me over and over. He'd pull me up with it. He began to talk to +me about dreaming. When your body's not fed--you begin to see clear--if +your spirit is not held down." + +He was getting tired and panting a little. Coombe bent nearer to him. + +"I can guess the rest. I have been reading books on such subjects. He +told you how to concentrate on dreaming and try to get near her. He +helped you by suggestion himself--" + +"He used to lie awake night after night and do it--and I began to +dream-- No, it was not a dream. I believe I got to her-- He did it--and +they killed him!" + +"Hush! hush!" cried Coombe. "Of all men he would most ardently implore +you to hold yourself still--" + +Donal made some strange effort. He lay still. + +"Yes, he would! Yes--of all the souls in the other world he'd be +strongest. He saved me--he saved Robin--he saved the child--you--all of +us! Perhaps he's here now! He said he'd come if he could. He believed he +could." + +He lay quiet for a few seconds and then the Donal smile they had all +adored lighted up his face. + +"Jackson, old chap!" he said. "I can't see you--but I'll do what you +want me to do--I'll do it." + +He fainted the next minute and the doctors came to him. + +The facts which came later still were that Jackson had developed +consumption, and exposure and brutality had done their worst. And Donal +had seen his heart wringing end. + +"But he knew America would come in. I believed it too, because he did. +Just at the right time. 'All the rest have fought like mad till they're +tired--though they'll die fighting,' he said. 'America's not tired. +She's got everything and she sees red with frenzy at the bestiality. +She'll _burst_ in--just at the right time!' Jackson _knew_!" + + * * * * * + +"I must not go trembling to her," Donal said on the morning when at +last--long last, it seemed--he drove with Coombe up the moor road to +Darreuch. "But," bravely, "what does it matter? I'm trembling because +I'm going to her!" + +He had been talking about her for weeks--for days he had been able to +talk of nothing else-- Coombe had listened as if he heard echoes from a +past when he would have so talked and dared not utter a word. He had +talked as a boy lover talks--as a young bridegroom might let himself +pour his joy forth to his most sacredly trusted friend. + +Her loveliness, the velvet of her lifting eyes--the wonder of her +trusting soul--the wonder of her unearthly selfless sweetness! + +"It was always the same kind of marvel every time you saw her," he said +boyishly. "You couldn't believe there could be such sweetness on +earth--until you saw her again. Even her eyes and her little mouth and +her softness were like that. You had to tell yourself about them over +and over again to make them real when she wasn't there!" + +He was still thin, but the ghastly hollows had filled and his smile +scarcely left his face--and he had waited as long as he could. + +"And to see her with a little child in her arms!" he had murmured. +"Robin! Holding it--and being careful! And showing it to me!" + +After he first caught sight of the small old towers of Darreuch he could +not drag his eyes from them. + +"She's there! She's there! They're both there together!" he said over +and over. Just before they left the carriage he wakened as it were and +spoke to Coombe. + +"She won't be frightened," he said. "I told her--last night." + +Coombe had asked himself if he must go to her. But, marvellously even to +him, there was no need. + +When they stood in the dark little hall--as she had come down the stone +stairway on the morning when she bade him her sacred little good-bye, so +she came down again--like a white blossom drifting down from its +branch--like a white feather from a dove's wing.--But she held her baby +in her arms and to Donal her cheeks and lips and eyes were as he had +first seen them in the Gardens. + +He trembled as he watched her and even found himself +spellbound--waiting. + +"Donal! Donal!" + +And they were in his arms--the soft warm things--and he sat down upon +the lowest step and held them--rocking--and trembling still more--but +with the gates of peace open and earth and war shut out. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robin, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBIN *** + +***** This file should be named 18945.txt or 18945.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/4/18945/ + +Produced by Hilary Caws-Elwitt and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18945.zip b/18945.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..730cd3d --- /dev/null +++ b/18945.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..43eaad2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #18945 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18945) |
