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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/20201-8.txt b/20201-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4363c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/20201-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8693 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Gray, by Katharine Tynan + +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: Mary Gray + +Author: Katharine Tynan + +Release Date: December 27, 2006 [EBook #20201] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY GRAY *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + + + + + + + + + MARY GRAY + + BY KATHARINE TYNAN + + +_Author of "Julia," "The Story of Bawn," "Her Ladyship," "For Maisie," +etc., etc._ + + +WITH FOUR COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. H. TAFFS + +[Transcriber's note: This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project. Only the Frontispiece was +included in the scans.] + + +CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED +London, Paris, New York, Toronto and Melbourne +1909 +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +[Illustration: "The men would salute their old General, the General +salute his old regiment"] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I. Wistaria Terrace + + CHAPTER II. The Wall Between + + CHAPTER III. The New Estate + + CHAPTER IV. Boy and Girl + + CHAPTER V. "Old Blood and Thunder" + + CHAPTER VI. The Blue Ribbon + + CHAPTER VII. A Chance Meeting + + CHAPTER VIII. Groves of Academe + + CHAPTER IX. The Race with Death + + CHAPTER X. Dispossessed + + CHAPTER XI. The Lion + + CHAPTER XII. Her Ladyship + + CHAPTER XIII. The Heart of a Father + + CHAPTER XIV. Lovers' Parting + + CHAPTER XV. The General has an Idea + + CHAPTER XVI. The Leading and the Light + + CHAPTER XVII. A Night of Spring + + CHAPTER XVIII. Halcyon Weather + + CHAPTER XIX. Wild Thyme and Violets + + CHAPTER XX. Jealousy, Cruel as the Grave + + CHAPTER XXI. Two Women + + CHAPTER XXII. Light on the Way + + CHAPTER XXIII. The News in the _Westminster_ + + CHAPTER XXIV. The Friend + + CHAPTER XXV. The One Woman + + CHAPTER XXVI. Golden Days + + CHAPTER XXVII. The Intermediary + + CHAPTER XXVIII. Noel! Noel! + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"The men would salute their old General, the General salute his old +regiment" + +"Sir Robin Drummond had come to Mary's side, and turned the page of +her music" + +"'Do you know what I came here in the mind to ask you?'" + +"'Miss Nelly is in the drawing-room, sir'" + + + + +MARY GRAY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WISTARIA TERRACE + + +The house where Mary Gray was born and grew towards womanhood was one of +a squat line of mean little houses that hid themselves behind a great +church. The roadway in front of the houses led only to the back entrance +of the church. Over against the windows was the playground of the church +schools, surrounded by a high wall that shut away field and sky from the +front rooms of Wistaria Terrace. + +The houses were drab and ugly, with untidy grass-plots in front. They +presented an exterior of three windows and a narrow round-topped +hall-door which was a confession of poverty in itself. Five out of six +houses had a ramping plaster horse in the fanlight of the hall door, a +fixture which went with the house and was immune from breakage because +no one ever thought of cleaning the fanlights. + +In the back gardens the family wash was put to dry. Some of the more +enterprising inhabitants kept fowls; but there was not much enterprise +in Wistaria Terrace. + +Earlier inhabitants had planted the gardens with lilac and laburnum +bushes, with gooseberries and currants. There were no flowers there that +did not sow themselves year after year. They were damp, grubby places, +but even there an imaginative child like Mary Gray could find +suggestions of delight. + +Mary's father, Walter Gray, was employed at a watchmaker's of repute. He +spent all his working life with a magnifying glass in his eye, peering +into the mechanism of watches, adjusting the delicate pivots and springs +on which their lives moved. His occupation had perhaps encouraged in him +a habit of introspection. Perhaps he found the human machine as worthy +of interest as the works of watches and clocks. Anyhow, in his leisure +moments, which were few, he would discuss curiously with Mary the hidden +springs that kept the human machine in motion, the strange workings and +convolutions of it. From the very early age when she began to be a +comfort and a companion to her father, Mary had been accustomed to such +speculations as would have written Walter Gray down a madman if he had +shared them with the grown people about him rather than with a child. + +Mary was the child of his romance, of his first marriage, which had +lasted barely a year. + +He never talked of her mother, even to Mary, though she had vague +memories of a time when he had not been so reticent. That was before the +stepmother came, the stepmother whom, honestly, Walter Gray had married +because his child was neglected. He had not anticipated, perhaps, the +long string of children which was to result from the marriage, whose +presence in the world was to make Mary's lot a more strenuous one than +would have been the case if she had been a child alone. + +Not that Mary grumbled about the stepbrothers and sisters. Year after +year, from the time she could stagger under the weight of a baby, she +had received a new burden for her arms, and had found enough love for +each newcomer. + +The second Mrs. Gray was a poor, puny, washed-out little rag of a woman, +whose one distinction was the number of her children. They had always +great appetites to be satisfied. As soon as they began to run about, the +rapidity with which they wore out their boots and the knees of their +trousers, and outgrew their frocks, was a subject upon which Mrs. Gray +could expatiate for hours. Mary had a tender, strong pity from the +earliest age for the down-at-heel, over-burdened stepmother, which +lightened her own load, as did the vicarious, motherly love which came +to her for each succeeding fat baby. + +Mary was nurse and nursery-governess to all the family. Wistaria Terrace +had one great recompense for its humble and hidden condition. It was +within easy reach of the fields and the mountains. For an adventurous +spirit the sea was not at an insuperable distance. Indeed, but for the +high wall of the school playground, the lovely line of mountains had +been well in view. As it was, many a day in summer Mary would carry off +her train of children to the fields, with a humble refection of bread +and butter and jam, and milk for their mid-day meal; and these occasions +allowed Mrs. Gray a few hours of peace that were like a foretaste of +Paradise. + +She never grumbled, poor little woman, because her husband shared his +thoughts with Mary and not with her. Whatever ambitions she had had to +rise to her Walter's level--she had an immense opinion of his +learning--had long been extinguished under the accumulation of toils and +burdens that made up her daily life. She was fond of Mary, and leant on +her strangely, considering their relative ages. For the rest, she toiled +with indifferent success at household tasks, and was grateful for having +a husband so absorbed in distant speculations that he was insensible of +the near discomfort of a badly-cooked dinner or a buttonless shirt. + +The gardens of the houses opened on a lane which was a sort of +rubbish-shoot for the houses that gave upon it. Across the lane was a +row of stabling belonging to far more important houses than Wistaria +Terrace. Beyond the stables and stable yards were old gardens with shady +stretches of turf and forest trees enclosed within their walls. Beyond +the gardens rose the fine old-fashioned houses of the Mall, big Georgian +houses that looked in front across the roadway at the line of elm-trees +that bordered the canal. The green waters of the canal, winding placidly +through its green channel, with the elm-trees reflected greenly in its +green depths, had a suggestion of Holland. + +The lane was something of an adventure to the children of Wistaria +Terrace. There, any day, you might see a coachman curry-combing his +satin-skinned horses, hissing between his teeth by way of encouragement, +after the time-honoured custom. Or you might see a load of hay lifted up +by a windlass into the loft above the stables. Or you might assist at +the washing of a carriage. Sometimes the gate at the farther side of the +stable was open, and a gardener would come through with a barrowful of +rubbish to add to the accumulation already in the lane. + +Through the open gateway the children would catch glimpses of Fairyland. +A broad stretch of shining turf dappled with sun and shade. Tall +snapdragons and lilies and sweet-williams and phlox in the garden-beds. +A fruit tree or two, heavy with blossom or fruit. + +Only old-fashioned people lived in the Mall nowadays, and the glimpses +the children caught of the owners of those terrestrial paradises fitted +in with the idea of fairyland. They were always old ladies and +gentlemen, and they were old-fashioned in their attire, but very +magnificent. There was one old lady who was the very Fairy Godmother of +the stories. She was the one who had the magnificent mulberry-tree in +her garden. One day in every year the children were called in to strip +the tree of its fruit; and that was a great day for Wistaria Terrace. + +The children were allowed to bring basins to carry away what they could +not eat; and benevolent men-servants would ascend to the overweighted +boughs of the tree by ladders and pick the fruit and load up the +children's basins with it. Again, the apples would be distributed in +their season. While the distribution went on, the old lady would stand +at a window with her little white dog in her arms nodding her head in a +well-pleased way. The children called her Lady Anne. They had no such +personal acquaintance with the other gardens and their owners, so their +thoughts were very full of Lady Anne and her garden. + +When Mary was about fourteen she made the acquaintance of Lady Anne--her +full name was Lady Anne Hamilton--and that was an event which had a +considerable influence on her fortunes. The meeting came about in this +way. + +Mary had gone marketing one day, and for once had deserted the shabby +little row of shops which ran at the end of Wistaria Terrace, at right +angles to it. She had gone out into the great main thoroughfare, the +noise of which came dimly to Wistaria Terrace because of the huge mass +of the church blocking up the way. + +She had done her shopping and was on her way home, when, right in the +track of the heavy tram as it came down the steep descent from the +bridge over the canal, she saw a helpless bit of white fur, as it might +well seem to anyone at a distance. The thing was almost motionless, or +stirring so feebly that its movements were not apparent. Evidently the +driver of the tram had not noticed it, or was not troubled to save its +life, for he stood with the reins in his hand, glancing from side to +side of the road for possible passengers as the tram swept down the long +incline. + +Mary never hesitated. The tram was almost upon the thing when she first +saw it. "Why, it is Lady Anne's dog!" she cried, and launched herself +out in the roadway to save it. She was just in time to pick up the +blind, whimpering thing. The driver of the tram, seeing Mary in its +path, put on the brakes sharply. The tram lumbered to a stoppage, but +not before Mary had been flung down on her face and her arm broken by +the hoof of the horse nearest her. + +It was likely to be an uncommonly awkward thing for the Gray household, +seeing that it was Mary's right arm that was injured. For one thing, it +would involve the dispossession of that year's baby. For another, it +would put Mrs. Gray's capable helper entirely out of action. + +When Mary was picked up, and stood, wavering unsteadily, supported by +someone in the crowd which had gathered, hearing, as from a great +distance, the snarling and scolding of the tram-driver, who was afraid +of finding himself in trouble, she still held the blind and whimpering +dog in her uninjured arm. + +She wanted to get away as quickly as possible from the crowd, but her +head swam and her feet were uncertain. Then she heard a quiet voice +behind her. + +"Has there been an accident? I am a doctor," it said. + +"A young woman trying to kill herself along of an old dog," said the +tram-driver indignantly. "As though there wasn't enough trouble for a +man already." + +"Let me see," the doctor said, coming to Mary's side. "Ah, I can't make +an examination here. Better come with me, my child. I am on my way to +the hospital. My carriage is here." + +"Not to hospital," said Mary faintly. "Let me go home; they would be so +frightened." + +"I shan't detain you, I promise you. But this must be bandaged before +you can go home. Ah, is this basket yours, too?" + +Someone had handed up the basket from the tram-track, where it had lain +disgorging cabbages and other articles of food. + +"I will send you home as soon as I have seen to your arm," the doctor +said, pushing her gently towards his carriage. "And the little dog--is +he your own? I suppose he is, since you nearly gave your life for him?" + +"He is not mine," said Mary faintly. "He belongs to Lady Anne--Lady Anne +Hamilton. She lives at No. 8, The Mall. She will be distracted if she +misses the little dog. She is so very fond of it." + +"Ah! Lady Anne Hamilton. I have heard of her. We can leave the dog at +home on our way. Come, child." + +The Mall was quite close at hand. They drove there, and just as the +carriage stopped at the gate of No. 8, which had a long strip of green +front garden, overhung by trees through which you could discern the old +red-brick house. Lady Anne herself came down the gravel path. Over her +head was a little shawl of old lace; it was caught by a seed-pearl +brooch with an amethyst centre. She was wearing a quilted red silk +petticoat and a bunched sacque of black flowered silk. She had +magnificent dark eyes and white hair. Under it her peaked little face +was the colour of old ivory. She was calling to her dog, "Fifine, +Fifine, where can you be?" + +A respectable-looking elderly maid came hurrying after her. + +"I've looked everywhere, my lady, and I cannot find the little thing," +she said in a frightened voice. + +Meanwhile, the doctor had got out of the carriage and had taken Fifine +gently from Mary's lap. Now that Mary was coming to herself she began to +discover that the doctor was young and kind-looking, but more careworn +than his youth warranted. He opened the garden gate and went up to Lady +Anne. + +"Is this your little dog, madam?" he asked. + +"My Fifine, my darling!" cried Lady Anne, embracing the trembling bit of +wool. "You don't know what she is to me, sir. My little grandson"--the +imperious old voice shook--"loved the dog. She was his pet. The child is +dead. You understand----" + +"Perfectly," said the doctor. "I, too--I know what loss is. The little +dog strayed. She was found in the High Road. I am very glad to restore +her to you; but pray do not thank me. There is a young girl in my +carriage at the gate. She picked up your dog from under the wheels of a +tramcar, and broke her arm, I fear, in doing it. I am on my way to the +hospital, the House of Mercy, where I am doing work for a friend who is +on holiday. I am taking her with me so that I may set the arm where I +have all the appliances." + +"She saved my Fifine? Heroic child! Let me thank her." + +The old lady clutched her recovered treasure to her breast with fervour, +then handed the dog over to the maid. + +"Take me to see Fifine's preserver," she said in a commanding voice. + +Mary was almost swooning with the pain of her arm. She heard Lady Anne's +praises as though from a long distance off. + +"Stay, doctor," the old lady said; "I cannot have her jolted over the +paving-stones of the city to the Mercy. Bring her in here. We need not +detain you very long. We can procure splints and bandages, all you +require, from a chemist's shop. There is one just round the corner. +What, do you say, child? They will be frightened about you at home! I +shall send word. Be quiet now; you must let us do everything for you." + +So the doctor assisted Mary into the old house behind the trees. Lady +Anne walked the other side of her, pretending to assist Mary and really +imagining that she did. + +The splints and the bandages were on, and Mary had borne the pain well. + +"I'm afraid I must go," said the doctor, looking at his watch. "I am +half an hour behind my time. And where am I to visit my patient?" + +"Where but here?" said Lady Anne with decision. "It is now half-past +eleven. I have lunch at half-past one. Could you return to lunch, +Dr.--ah, Dr. Carruthers. You are Dr. Carruthers, are you not? You took +the big house at the corner of Magnolia Road a year ago?" + +"Yes, I am Dr. Carruthers; and I shall be very pleased to return to +lunch, Lady Anne. I don't think the little dog is any the worse for her +experience." + +His face was flushed as he stood with his hat in his hand, bowing and +smiling. If only Lady Anne Hamilton would take him up! That big house at +the corner of Magnolia Road had been a daring bid for fortune. So had +the neat, single brougham, hired from a livery-stable. So had been the +three smart maids. But so far Fortune had not favoured him. He was one +of fifty or so waiters on Fortune. When people were ill in the smart +suburban neighbourhood they liked to be attended by Dr. Pownall, who +always drove a pair of hundred guinea horses. None of your hired +broughams for them. + +"You are paying too big a rent for a young man," said Lady Anne. "You +can't have made it or anything like made it. Pownall grows careless. The +last time I sent for him he kept me two hours waiting. When I had him to +Stewart, my maid, he was in a hurry to be gone. Pownall has too much to +do--too much by half." + +Her eyes rested thoughtfully on the agitated Dr. Carruthers. + +"You shall tell me all about it when you come back to lunch," she said; +"and I should like to call on your wife." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WALL BETWEEN + + +"The child has brought us luck--luck at last, Mildred," Dr. Carruthers +was saying, a few hours later. "When I lifted her in my arms she was as +light as a feather. A poor little shabby, overworked thing, all eyes, +and too big a forehead. Her boots were broken, and I noticed that her +fingers were rough with hard work." + +He was walking up and down his wife's drawing-room in a tremendous state +of excitement, while she smiled at him from the sofa. + +"It is wonderful, coming just now, too, when I had made up my mind that +we couldn't keep afloat here much longer, and had resolved to give up +this house at the September quarter and retire into a dingier part of +the town. Once it is known that I am Lady Anne Hamilton's medical man +the snobs of the neighbourhood will all be sending for me." + +"Poor Dr. Pownall!" said Mrs. Carruthers, laughing softly. + +"Oh, Pownall is all right. They say he's immensely wealthy. He can +retire now and enjoy his money. If the public did not go back on him +he'd be a dead man in five or six years. He does the work of twenty men. +I pity the others, the poor devils who are waiting on fortune as I have +waited." + +"There is no fear of Lady Anne disappointing you?" she asked, in a +hesitating voice. She did not like to seem to throw cold water on his +joyful mood. + +"There is no fear," he answered, standing midway of the room with its +three large windows. "She is coming to see you, Milly. If I have failed +in anything you will succeed. You will see me at the top of the tree +yet. You will have cause to be proud of me." + +"I am always proud of you. Kit," she said, in a low, impassioned voice. + +Meanwhile, Lady Anne herself had made a pilgrimage to Wistaria Terrace +in the hour preceding the luncheon hour. She had left Mary in a deep +chair in the big drawing-room. Outside were the boughs of trees. From +the windows you could surprise the secrets of the birds if you would. +The room was very spacious, with chairs and sofas round the walls, a +great mirror at either end, a paper on its walls which pretended to be +panels wreathed in roses. The ceiling had a gay picture of gods and +goddesses reclining in a flowery mead. The mantelpiece was Carrara +marble, curiously inlaid with coloured wreaths. There was a fire in the +brass grate, although it was summer weather. The proximity of the trees +and the natural climate of the place meant damp. The fire sparkled in +the brass dogs and the brass jambs of the fireplace. The skin of a tiger +stretched itself along the floor. The terrible teeth grinned almost at +Mary's feet. + +The child was sick and faint from the pain of having her arm set. She +lay in the deep sofa, covered with red damask, amid a bewildering +softness of cushions and rugs, and wondered what Lady Anne was saying to +Mamie. Mamie was Mrs. Gray. From the first Mary had not called her +Mother. Her name was Matilda, and Mamie was a sort of compromise. + +Meanwhile, Lady Anne had gone out by her garden, through the stable, and +into the lane at the back. There was a little door open in the opposite +wall; beyond it was a shabby trellis with scarlet-runners clambering +upon it. + +Lady Anne peeped within. A disheartened-looking woman was hanging a +child's frock on the line which was stretched from wall to wall. Three +children, ranging in age from two to five, were sitting on the grass +plot. Two were playing with white stones. The third was surveying its +own small feet with great interest, sucking at a fat thumb as though it +conveyed some delicious nourishment. + +"Do I speak to Mrs. Gray?" asked Lady Anne, advancing. She had a +sunshade over her head, a deep-fringed thing with a folding handle. She +had bought it in Paris in the days of the Second Empire. + +Mrs. Gray stared at the stranger within her gates, whom she knew by +sight. There was some perturbation in her face. She had been worried +about the unusual duration of Mary's absence. Mary had not come back +with the market basket which contained the children's dinner. At one +o'clock the four elder ones would be upon her, ravening. What on earth +had become of Mary? The poor woman had not realised how much she +depended on Mary, since Mary was always present and always willing to +take the burdens off her stepmother's thin, stooped shoulders on to her +own. + +Now she caught sight of the market-basket. One of Lady Anne's +white-capped maids had come in and deposited it quietly. + +"Mary?" she gasped. "What has become of Mary?" + +"Pray don't frighten yourself," said Lady Anne. "I have a message +from Mary. She is at my house. As a matter of fact, she met with an +accident. There--don't go so pale. It is only a matter of time. Her arm +is broken. She got it broken in saving the life of my little Maltese, +who had strayed out and had got in the way of the tram. I always said +that those trams should not be allowed. The tracks are so very +unpleasant--dangerous even, for the carriages of gentlefolk. There is +far too much traffic allowed on the public highways nowadays, far too +much. People ought to walk if they cannot keep carriages." + +She broke off abruptly and looked at the three small children. + +"These are yours?" she asked. "They seem very close together in age." + +"A year and a half, three years, four years and three months," said Mrs. +Gray, forgetting in her special cause for pride her awe of Lady Anne. + +"Dear me, I should have thought they were all twins," said the old lady. +"How very remarkable! Have you any more?" + +"Four at school. The eldest is nine. You see, they came so quickly, my +lady. Only for Mary I don't know how I should have reared them." + +"H'm! Mary is very stunted. It struck me that she would have been tall +if she had had a chance. Those heavy babies, doubtless. Well, I am going +to keep Mary for a while. How will you do without her?" + +Mrs. Gray's faded eyes filled with tears. + +"I can't imagine, my lady. You see, we have never kept a servant. When I +lived at home with my Mamma we always had three. Mr. Gray has literary +attainments, my lady. He is not practical." + +"I can send you an excellent charwoman," Lady Anne broke in, "for the +present. I will see what is to be done about Mary. The child has +rendered me an inestimable service. I must do something for her in +return. By the way, she is not your daughter?" + +"My stepdaughter." + +"Ah, I thought so. Well, the charwoman shall come in at once. She can +cook. Later on, we shall see--we shall see." + +"By the way," said Lady Anne, coming back with a rustle of silks while +Mrs. Gray yet stood in bewilderment, holding the baby's frock in her +limp fingers. "By the way, Mary is very anxious about her father--how he +will take her accident. Will you tell your husband that I shall be glad +to see him when he comes home this evening?" + +"I will, my lady," said Mrs. Gray; "and, my lady, would you please not +to mention to Mr. Gray about the charwoman? He's that proud; it would +hurt him, I'm sure. If he isn't told he'll never know she's there. A +child isn't as easily deceived as Walter." + +"I shall certainly not tell him," Lady Anne said graciously. She did not +object to the honest pride in Walter Gray. He was probably a superior +man for his station, being Mary's father. As for that poor slattern, +Lady Anne had lived too long in the world to be amazed by the marriages +men made, either in her own exalted circle or in those below it. + +Walter Gray came, in a flutter of tender anxiety, at half-past six in +the evening, to Lady Anne's garden, where Mary was sitting in her wicker +chair under the mulberry tree. Lady Anne had given orders that he was to +be shown out to the garden when he called. + +"My poor little girl!" he said, with an arm about Mary's shoulder. + +Then he took off his hat to Lady Anne. There was respect in his manner, +but nothing over-humble, nothing to say that they were not equals in a +sense. His eyes, at once bright and dreamy, rested on her with a +friendly regard. + +"The man has gentle blood in him somewhere," said the old lady to +herself. She had a sense of humour which kept her knowledge of her own +importance from becoming overweening. "I believe his respect is for my +age, not for my rank. I wonder what the world is coming to!" + +She went away then and left the father and daughter together. Walter, +who had taken a chair by Mary's, looked with a half-conscious pleasure +round the velvet sward on which the shadows of the trees lay long. The +trees were at their full summer foliage, dark as night, mysterious, +magnificent. + +"What a very pleasant place!" Walter Gray said, with grave enjoyment. +"How sweet the evening smells are! How quiet everything is! Who could +believe that Wistaria Terrace was over the wall?" + +"I have been missing Wistaria Terrace," Mary said. "You don't know how +lonesome it feels for the children. I wonder how Mamie is getting on +without me. I want to go home. Indeed, I feel quite able to. I don't +know how I shall do without going home." + +"If you went home," said Walter Gray, unexpectedly practical, "your arm +would never set, Mary. You'd be forgetting and doing all manner of +things you oughtn't to do. If Lady Anne is kind enough to ask you to +visit her, stay a while and rest, dear. Indeed, you do too much for your +size." + +"You will all miss me so dreadfully." + +"Indeed, I don't think we shall miss you--in that way. Oddly enough--I +suppose Matilda was on her mettle--the house seemed quieter when I came +home. The children were in bed. I smelt something good from the kitchen. +Don't imagine that we shall not be able to do without you, child." + +Mary, who knew no more of the capable charwoman than Walter Gray did, +looked on this speech of her father's as a mere string of tender +subterfuges. She said nothing, but her eyes rested on her grey woollen +skirt, faded by wear and the weather, and she had an unchildish sense of +the incongruity of her presence as a visitor in Lady Anne's house. +Walter Gray's glance roamed over his young daughter. He saw nothing of +her dreary attire. He saw only the spiritual face, over-pale, the +slender, young, unformed body, graceful as a half-opened flower in its +ill-fitting covering, the slender feet that had a suggestion of race, +the toil-worn hands the fingers of which tapered to fine points. + +"You have always done too much, child," he said, with sudden, tender +compunction. + +When he rose to go Mary clung to him as though their parting was to be +for years. + +"I will come in again to-morrow," he said. "I shall sleep better +to-night for thinking of you in this quiet, restful place. Get some +roses in your cheeks, little girl, before you come back to us." + +"I wish I were going back now," said Mary piteously. She looked round +the old walls with their climbing fruit trees as though they were the +walls of a prison. "It is awful not to be able to come and go. And Mamie +will never be able to do without me. The children will be ill----" + +He left her in tears. As he re-entered the house by its iron steps up to +a glass door Lady Anne came out from her morning-room and called him +within. He looked about him at the room, walled in with books, with +yellowed marble busts of great men on top of the book-cases. His feet +sank in soft carpets. The smell of a pot of lilies mingled with the +smell of leather bindings. The light in the room, filtered through the +leaves of an overhanging creeper, was green and gold. It seemed to him +that he must have known such a room in some other world, where he had +not had to make watches all day with a glass screwed in his eye, but had +abundant leisure for books and beautiful things. Not but that there +might be worse things than the watchmaking. Over the works of the +watches, the fine little wheels and springs, Walter Gray thought hard, +thought incessantly. He thought, perhaps, the harder that he had neither +the leisure nor opportunity for putting down his thoughts on paper or +imparting them to another like-minded with himself. How his fellows +would have stared if they could have known the things that went on +inside Walter Gray's mind as he leant above his table, peering into the +interior of the watch-cases! + +"Sit down, Mr. Gray," said Lady Anne graciously; "I want to talk to you +about Mary." + +She approached the matter delicately, having wit enough to see that +Walter Gray was no common person. While she talked she looked with frank +admiration at his face: the fine, high, delicate nose; the arched brows, +like Mary's own; the over-development of the forehead. The dust of years +and worries lay thick upon his face, yet Lady Anne said to herself that +it was a beautiful face beneath the dust. + +"I want to talk to you about Mary," she went on. "The child interests me +strongly. She is a fine vessel, this little daughter of yours. Pray +excuse me if I speak plainly. She has been doing far too much for her +age and her strength. Haven't you noticed that she is pulled down to +earth? Those babies, Mr. Gray--they are remarkably fat and heavy; they +are killing Mary." + +"Her mother died of consumption," Walter Gray said, his face whitening +with terror. + +"Ah!" the old lady thought; "she is the child of his heart. Those three +twins are merely the children of his home. That poor drudge of a mother +of theirs! Mary is the child of her father's heart and mind." + +Then aloud: "You had better let me have her, Mr. Gray." + +"Let you have her, Lady Anne? What would you do with my Mary?" + +He looked scarcely less aghast than he had done a moment before at the +suggestion of consumption. + +"Not separate her from you, Mr. Gray. This house is my home, and I am +not likely to leave it, except for a month or two at a time, at my age. +I think the child will be a companion to me. I have no romantic +suggestions to make. I am not proposing to adopt Mary. I shall pay her a +salary, and give her opportunities for education that you cannot. She +interests me, as I have said. Let me have her. When I no longer need +her--I am an old woman, Mr. Gray--she will be fit to earn her own +living. Everything I have goes back to my nephew Jarvis Lord Iniscrone. +But Mary will not suffer. Think! What have you to give her but a life of +drudgery under which she will break down--die, perhaps?" + +She watched the emotion in his face with her little keen, bright eyes. + +"It is not a fine lady's caprice?" he said. "You won't make my Mary +accustomed to better things than I could give her and then send her back +to be a drudge?" + +"The Lord judge between thee and me," she answered solemnly. + +"Then I trust you, Lady Anne Hamilton," he said. + +The strange thing was that the proud old lady was gratified, almost +flattered, by the confidence in Walter Gray's unworldly eyes. + +"Thank you, Mr. Gray," she said; then, as he took up his hat to go, she +laid a detaining hand on his shabby coat sleeve. + +"Why not have dinner with Mary in the garden?" she suggested. "Do, pray. +I want you to tell her what we have agreed upon. I can send word to Mrs. +Gray." + +Walter Gray was pleased enough to go back to his little girl whom he had +left in tears for the comfortless house and the burden of the young +stepbrothers and stepsisters. It was pleasure, half pain, to see the +uplifted face with which Mary regarded him when she saw him return. How +was he going to put the barrier between them that this plan to which he +had given his consent would surely mean? He had no illusions. Over the +wall, Lady Anne had said. But the wall that separated Wistaria Terrace +and the Mall was in reality a high and a great wall. He would never have +Mary in the old close communion again. All passes. How good the old +times were that were only a few hours away, yet seemed worlds! Never +again! They would never be all and all to each other in a solitude which +took no count of the others. Yet it was for Mary's sake. For Mary's sake +the wall was to rise between them. As he began to tell her the strange, +wonderful thing, his heart was heavy within him because a chapter of his +life was closed. He had come to the end of an epoch. Henceforth things +might be conceivably better, but--they would be different. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE NEW ESTATE + + +Mary took the news of her great promotion in an unthankful spirit. + +"Lady Anne is very kind," she said tearfully; "but I don't want to stay +with her. I couldn't bear to live anywhere but in Wistaria Terrace. It +is absurd that you should say you have given your consent, papa. How +could you possibly have consented when the house could not get on +without me? You know it could not. Why, even for a day things would be +all topsy-turvy without me." + +"And so you have not gone to school," the father answered, with an +accent of self-reproach. "You have been weighed down with +responsibilities and cares that you ought to have been free of for years +to come. You have even been stunted in your growth, as Lady Anne said. +It is time things were altered. I don't know how I was so blind. We +ought to be grateful to the accident that has opened a door to us." + +When he had gone, Lady Anne came and comforted Mary. There was a deal of +kindness in the old lady's heart. + +"You shall help them," she said. "Dear me, how much help you will be +able to give them! Imagine beginning with a salary at fifteen! You are +to leave things to me, Mary. I have sent help to your stepmother--an +excellent woman, Mrs. Devine, whom I have known for many years. She is +very capable. I will tell her that she must remain with your stepmother. +It is amazing what one really capable woman can do. And afterwards there +will be the salary." + +The salary, and perhaps a quick, warm feeling for Lady Anne which sprang +up suddenly in Mary's heart, settled the question. After all, as Lady +Anne said, despite her greatness she was very lonely. She had lost her +son and her grandson, and she could not endure her nephew or his family. +She had only a few old cronies. As a matter of fact, although she had +taken a fancy to Mary Gray and captured the child's susceptible heart, +she was not a particularly amiable or lovable old lady to the rest of +the world. She was too keen-sighted and sharp-tongued to be popular. + +Mary slept that night in such a room as she had never dreamt of. There +was a little bed in the corner of it with a flowing veil of white, +lace-trimmed muslin like a baby's cot. There was white muslin tied with +blue ribbons at the window, and the dressing-table was as gaily and +innocently adorned. There was a work-box on a little table, a +writing-desk on another; a shelf of books hung on the wall. The room had +really been made ready for a dear young cousin of Lady Anne's, who had +not lived to enjoy it. If Mary had only known, she owed something of +Lady Anne's interest to the fact that her eyes were grey, like Viola's, +her cheek transparent like Viola's. + +Apart from the discomfort of the broken arm, as she lay in the soft, +downy little bed, she was ill at ease, wondering how they were getting +on without her at Wistaria Terrace. Her breast had an ache for the baby +who was used to lie warm against it. Her good arm felt strange and +lonely for the familiar little body. She kept putting it out in a panic +during her sleep because she missed the baby. + +In the morning Simmons, Lady Anne's maid, came to help her dress. It was +very difficult, Mary found, to do things for one's self with a broken +arm. Her head ached because of the disturbed sleep and the pain of the +broken limb. Simmons had come to her in a somewhat hostile frame of +mind. She did not hold with picking up gutter-children from no one knew +where and setting people as were respectable to wait upon them. But at +heart she was a good-natured woman, and her indignation disappeared +before the unchildish pain and weariness of Mary's face. + +"There," she said, "I wouldn't be fretting, if I were you. Lor' bless +you, there's fine treats in store for you. Her ladyship sent only last +night for a roll of grey cashmere. I'm to fit you after your breakfast +and make it up as quick as I can. Then you'll be fit to go out with her +ladyship in the carriage and get your other things." + +It was the last day of the ugly linsey. Simmons got through her task +with great quickness. She was a woman of taste, else she had not been +Lady Anne's maid. Lady Anne was more particular about her garments than +most young women. And, having once made up her mind to like Mary, +Simmons took an interest in her task. + +"You are so kind, Mrs. Simmons," Mary said gratefully, feeling the +gentleness and dexterity with which the woman tried on her new garments +without once jarring the broken arm. + +"I'm kind enough to those who take me the proper way," said Simmons, +greatly pleased with Mary's prefix of Mrs., which was brevet rank, since +Simmons had never married. It would have made a great difference to +Mary's comfort at this time if she had been sufficiently ill-advised to +call Simmons without a prefix, as Lady Anne did. + +Dr. Carruthers had called to see Mary the morning after the accident. He +had interviewed his patient in the morning-room, and was passing out +through the hall when Lady Anne's voice over the banisters summoned him +to her presence. + +"You can give me a little while, Dr. Carruthers?" she said. "I shall not +be interfering with your work?" + +"I am quite free"--a little colour came into his cheeks. "The friend +whose work I was doing at the House of Mercy returned last night. +Yesterday was my last day." + +"Ah! and yesterday brought you an unexpected patient. How do you find +her?" + +"She has less physique than she ought to have." + +"Yes, she has been underfed and overworked. I am going to alter all +that. I have taken her into my house as my little companion." + +Dr. Carruthers stared in spite of himself. + +"You think it very odd of me? Well, I _am_ odd, and I can afford to do +what pleases me. Mary Gray is going to live here. You should know her +father. A quite remarkable man, I consider him. Now, about yourself. I +have heard of you, Dr. Carruthers. I have heard that you are a very +clever young man and devoted to your work, that you have all the +knowledge of the schools at your fingertips, but very little experience, +and no practice to speak of." + +"Excuse me, Lady Anne. I was three years house surgeon at the Good +Samaritan; and I have done a great deal of work since I have been here. +I will confess that my patients have been of a poor class." + +"Who have not paid you a penny. I don't know whether you do it for +philanthropy or to keep your hand in----" + +"A little of both," the young man said with a faint smile. + +"But it is a good thing to do," the old lady went on, without noticing +his interpellation. "You're spoken well of by the poor, if the rich have +not heard anything about you. I know you're living beyond your means in +a big house, hoping that a paying practice will come to you. My dear +man, it never will, so long as people think you are in need of it. They +like Dr. Pownall at their doors with his carriage and pair, even if he +can only give them five minutes. Pownall forgot himself with me. I +remember his father--a very decent, respectable man who used to grow +cabbages. That's nothing against Pownall--creditable to him, I should +say. Still, he hadn't time to listen to my symptoms, and he was rude. 'A +woman of your age,' he said. I should like to know who told Dr. Pownall +my age. A lady has no age. 'It's time you retired,' I said to him. 'I +don't think of it,' said he; 'not for ten years yet. My patients won't +hear of it.' 'You're greedy,' said I; 'if you weren't your patients +might go to Hong Kong.' He thought it was a joke--hadn't time to find +out whether I was serious or not. I made him, Dr. Carruthers. It's time +for him to retire now. I shall mention to all my friends that you are my +body-physician." + +She spoke like one of the Royal Family. But Dr. Carruthers had no +inclination to laugh. His eyes were dim as he murmured his +acknowledgments. It was fame, it was fortune, in those parts to be +approved by Lady Anne Hamilton. Hitherto she had been understood to +swear by Dr. Pownall. + +"It means a deal to us, Lady Anne," he said, stumbling over his words. +"We had made up our minds to give up the big house and look for a slum +practice. The children--I have two living--are not very strong, any more +than Mildred. We put all we could into the venture of taking the house. +It was our bid for fortune." + +"I wouldn't approve of it in a general way," said Lady Anne. "Still, it +has turned out well. Will your wife be at home to-morrow afternoon? I +should like to call upon her." + +"She will be delighted." + +Dr. Carruthers was regaining his self-control. He knew that the presence +of Lady Anne's barouche at his door for an hour in the afternoon would +be more potent in opening doors to him than if he had made the most +brilliant cure on record. + +Mary was with Lady Anne next day when she went to call on Mrs. +Carruthers. It was characteristic of Lady Anne that she thought to tell +Jennings, the coachman, to drive up and down in front of the house and +round the sides, for Dr. Carruthers' house was a corner one with a +frontage to three sides. It was a hot summer day, and Jennings wondered +disrespectfully what bee the old lady had got in her bonnet. Such a +jangling of harness, such a flashing of polished surfaces! Every window +that commanded the three sides of Dr. Carruthers' house had an eye at +the pane. The tidings flew from one to another that Lady Anne Hamilton +was visiting Mrs. Carruthers, and was making a very long call. + +Mildred was still on her sofa. She would have risen when Lady Anne came +in, but the old lady prevented her. Lady Anne could be royally kind when +it pleased her. + +She drew a chair by the sofa and sat down. Mary, who had come in with +her, listened in some wonder to Lady Anne's sympathetic questions about +the children. That was something in which Mary was interested, in which +Mary had knowledge and experience; but though she listened she would not +have spoken a word for worlds. + +As she sat there on the edge of one of Mrs. Carruthers' chairs--the +drawing-room furniture was of the sparsest; a chair or small table +dotted here and there on the wilderness of polished floor--she could see +herself in a pier-glass at the other end of the room. It was a quite +unfamiliar presentment she saw. This Mary was dressed in soft dove-grey. +She had a little white muslin folded fichu about her shoulders. She had +a wide black hat, with one long white ostrich feather. Her good hand was +gloved in delicate grey kid. There was something quaint about her +aspect; for that artist, Simmons, had discovered that Mary, for all her +fifteen years, looked her best with her soft fine brown hair piled on +top of her head. When she presented Mary so to Lady Anne the old lady +was fain to acknowledge that Simmons was right. There was a quaint and +delightful stateliness about Mary which made Lady Anne say to herself +once more that the child had gentle blood in her. + +"Dear me," Mildred Carruthers thought, as her eyes wandered again and +again to the elegant little figure, "Kit said nothing of this. I +expected to find a rather interesting child of the humbler classes. I +remember particularly that he said she looked as though she had had a +hard time." + +Mary's changed aspect had one unforeseen result. When she presented +herself at Wistaria Terrace the baby did not know her. Her stepmother +shed a few tears, which were half-gratification. The elder children were +already a bit shy of her, the baby's immediate predecessor even +murmuring of her as "the yady," and surveying her from afar, finger in +mouth. But the baby could in no way be brought to recognise her, and +only shouted lustily when she tried to force herself upon his +recognition. + +"I shall come to-morrow in my old frock," Mary said, bitterly hurt by +this lack of perception on the baby's part. "I hate these hideous +things; so I do. To-morrow he will come to his Mary, so he will." + +But when the morrow came, and she sought for her old work-a-day garments +in that pretty white and blue wardrobe where she had hung them when she +had discarded them for the grey frock and hat, they were not to be +found. There were numbers of things such as Mary had never dreamed of. +Lady Anne had provided her with an outfit, simple according to her +thoughts, but splendid in Mary's eyes. A white cashmere dressing-gown, +trimmed with lace, hung on the peg where the grey linsey had been. + +Mary flew to Simmons to know where her old frock had gone to. The good +woman, who by this time had taken Mary under her wing to uphold her +against the rest of the household if it were inclined to resent the new +inmate, looked at her reprovingly. + +"You never wanted that old frock, and you her ladyship's companion? No, +Miss Mary--for so I shall call you, as by her ladyship's orders, let +some people say what they like--that frock you never will see, for gone +it has to a poor child that'll maybe find it a comfort when winter +comes. I wonder at you for thinking on it, so I do, seeing as how I've +taken so much trouble with your clothes." + +Mary turned away with a desolate feeling. The grey linsey might have +been like the feathers of the enchanted bird that became a woman for the +love of a mortal, the feathers which, if she wore them again, had the +power of transporting her back to her kindred and her old estate. The +old life was indeed closed to Mary with the disappearance of the grey +linsey; and it was long before she lost the feeling that if she could +only have kept her old garments she need not have been so separated from +the old life. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BOY AND GIRL + + +It was during those early days that Mary made the acquaintance of Robin +Drummond. She had a comfortless feeling afterwards about the meeting; +but it was not because of Sir Robin or anything he did: he was always a +kind boy in her memory of him. It was because of his mother, Lady +Drummond. Mary knew from Lady Anne, who always thought aloud, that Lady +Drummond made a good many people feel uncomfortable. + +They had driven out all the way from the city to the Court, the big +house on its wide plain below the mountains. It was a long drive--quite +twenty miles there and back--and Jennings, who liked to have a good deal +of his time to himself, had been rather cross about it. Not that he +dared show any temper to Lady Anne, who was easy and kindly with her +servants, as a rule, but could reduce an insubordinate one to humble +submission as well as any old lady ever could. But Mary, who knew the +household pretty well by this time, knew that Jennings was out of temper +by the set of his shoulders, as she surveyed them from her seat in the +barouche. It was a road, too, he never liked to take, because of a +certain steam tram which ran along it and made the horses uncomfortable +when they met it face to face. And there his mistress was unsympathetic +towards him. She had been a brilliant and daring horsewoman in her youth +and middle age. + +"I never thought I should live to amble along like this," she confided +to Mary as they drove between golden harvest fields. "Rheumatic gout is +a great humbler of the spirit. Ah! here comes one of those black +monsters to make the pair curvet a little. They are too fat, Mary. They +have too easy a life. It is only on such an occasion as this that they +remember their hot youth." + +They reached the Court without mishap, although once or twice the horses +behaved as though they meditated a mild runaway. + +"You shall take the other road home, Jennings," Lady Anne said +graciously, as she alighted in front of the great square, imposing +house, amid its flower-beds of all shapes, its ornamental fountains +flinging high jets of golden water in the sun. + +"It's time we gave up the horses, my lady," Jennings said, with +bitterness, "with the likes o' them black beasts on the road." + +Later, as she and Mary waited in the great drawing-room for Lady +Drummond, she returned to the subject of Jennings and his grievance. + +"He is always bad-tempered when we come to the Court," she said. "For +all its grandeur it is not a hospitable house. Jennings will have to go +without his tea this afternoon." + +Mary looked with wonder down the great length of the magnificent room. +Her feet sank in the Turkey carpet. The walls, which were papered in +deep red, were lined with full-length portraits, some of them +equestrian. The place had an air of rich comfort. Was it possible that +the mistress of so much magnificence could grudge a visitor's coachman +his tea? + +"Her ladyship looks after the bawbees," Lady Anne went on, thinking +aloud as usual, rather than talking to Mary. "And those who are in her +employment must think of them too, or they go. Ah! you are looking at +Gerald Drummond's portrait. What do you think of it, child?" + +It was one of the equestrian portraits. The subject, a man in the +thirties, dressed in a lancer uniform, stood by his horse's head. His +helmet was off, lying on the ground at his feet; and it was easy to see +why the artist had chosen to paint the sitter with his head uncovered. +The upper part of the face--the forehead and eyes--was strikingly +handsome. The sweep of golden hair, despite its close military cut, was +beautiful also. For the rest, the nose was too large and not +particularly well-shaped, the chin was rugged, the mouth stern. +Lantern-jawed was the epithet one thought of when looking at the +portrait of the man whose deeds were written in his country's history. + +It was an epithet Mary Gray would not have thought of. Indeed, she +stared at the hero in fascinated awe, but would not have known how to +express an opinion regarding his looks. Fortunately, Lady Anne did not +wait for an answer to her question--had not, perhaps, ever intended that +it should be answered. + +"It is very like," she went on. "Half Greek god, half fanatic. He led +his charges with Bible words on his lips. He spent the night before a +battle in prayer and fasting. He was as stern as John Knox, and as sweet +as Francis de Sales. The only time his light deserted him was when he +married Matilda Stewart. We were all in love with him. I was, although I +ought to have had sense, being ten years his senior and a widow. He +picked the worst of the bunch. Luckily, he could get away from Matilda, +for he was always fighting somewhere, and perhaps he never found out. He +kept his simplicity to the day he died. Some people thought he married +Matilda because she was one of the Stewart heiresses, and the Drummonds +were as poor as church mice. They didn't know him. It was more likely +he'd marry her because she was plain, with a face like a horse, and was +head over ears in love with him. I will say that for Matilda. She was +desperately in love with her husband, although no one would believe now +that she had ever been in love with anybody." + +Lady Drummond delayed about coming to her guests. Lady Anne tapped an +impatient small foot on the floor. + +"She's heckling someone now--take my word for it," she said. + +Then her face wrinkled up, shrewdly humorous. + +"What are you thinking, child?" she asked. "Thinking of how oddly we in +the world talk of the friends we go to visit? I don't trouble the Court +much. But I am interested in Gerald's boy. I should like to know how he +is going to turn out. Not much of her Ladyship in him, I fancy." + +However, there was no question of Mary's judging her benefactress; and +Lady Anne smiled as she noticed that the girl had not heard her +question, and watched the innocent, tender, worshipping look with which +she was gazing at Sir Gerald's portrait. The smile faded off into a +sigh. "_Ah, le beau temps passe!_" The expression on Mary's face +recalled to Lady Anne the one romantic passion of her life, which had +come to her after widowhood had put an end to a marriage in which esteem +and liking for an elderly husband had taken the place of love. + +"You must excuse me, Anne." + +A monotonous, important voice broke into Lady Anne's dream like a harsh +discord, shattering it to atoms. + +"You must excuse me. I've been interviewing my gardener. In your town +life you are spared much. Considering the size of the gardens here and +the labour I pay for, the yield is far too little. I expect the gardens +to pay for themselves, and send the fruit to market. This year there is +a great falling-off." + +"It has been a wet summer," said Lady Anne. + +"Ah! and who is this young lady?" + +Lady Drummond's voice told that she had no need to ask the question. She +had heard of Anne Hamilton's extraordinary freak and had suggested that +for the protection of the interests of Anne's relatives she had better +be put under proper restraint. Still, she asked the question. One would +have said from the deadly monotony of Lady Drummond's voice that she +could not get any expression into it. Yet she could on occasion; and the +chilling disapproval in it now made Mary look up in a frightened +surprise. + +"This young lady, Miss Gray, is my companion," Lady Anne said, with a +stiffening of herself for battle and a light in her eye which showed +that she had not mistaken Lady Drummond's challenge, and had no +objection to take it up. + +"Ah!" Lady Drummond again lifted the lorgnette that hung at her belt and +stared at Mary through it. "The young lady is very young for the post, +and a companion is a new thing--is it not, Anne?--for you to require." + +"You mean that I never could get one to live with me," Lady Anne said +good-humoredly. "Well, Mary and I get on very well together--don't we, +Mary?" + +"Miss Gray is very young." + +"If we are going to discuss her, need she stay?" Lady Anne asked. "I am +sure she is longing to see the gardens. I couldn't get round myself. The +damp has made me stiff." + +"Can you find your way, Miss Gray?" + +Lady Drummond was plainly anxious to be rid of Mary, and made an effort +at politeness which was only awkward and discouraging. + +"I think so," said Mary, looking round with an air of flight. + +Lady Drummond's disapproval chilled her. She was not accustomed to be +disapproved of, and it filled her with a vague terror as though she had +done something wrong ignorantly. + +She glided out of the room like a shadow. As she went, Lady Drummond's +unlowered voice followed her. + +"Your choice is a very odd one, Anne Hamilton. That gawky child, all +eyes and forehead. I remember I wanted you to have my excellent Miss +Bradley." + +"I wouldn't have your excellent Bradley for an hour...." + +But Mary had fled beyond the hearing of the voices. She had no curiosity +to hear any more of Lady Drummond's unflattering remarks concerning her. + +Once again she longed for Wistaria Terrace. There was no place for her +in _this_ world, she said to herself; and sent a tender reproach in her +own mind to the father who had given her up for her good. Then she felt +contrite about Lady Anne. How good the old lady was to her, and how she +stood up for her, would stand up for her, even to the terrible Lady +Drummond! Still, it was not her world; it never would be. She thought, +with sudden childish tears filling her eyes, that the next time Lady +Anne went to see any of her fine friends she would pray to be left at +home. + +The great suite of rooms opened one into the other. Mary was in the last +of them--a library walled in books from floor to ceiling. The heavy +velvet curtains that draped the arched entrance by which she had come +had fallen behind her. The silence in the room where the feet fell so +softly could be felt. There was not a sound but the ticking of a clock +on the mantel-shelf. + +Suddenly she came to a standstill. She had entered the room, but how was +she to leave it? The doors were constructed of a piece with the +book-shelves. The backs of them were dummy books. Mary did not know in +the least how to discover the doors. In fact, she supposed that there +were not any. She would have to retrace the way she came--perhaps even +ask the terrible Lady Drummond how to get out. + +She looked up at the long windows with the eye of a bird who has strayed +in and cannot find the way out. The elusive air of flight that was hers +was more pronounced at the moment. + +Suddenly there was a sound, and, as Mary thought, the book-shelves +opened. She saw light through the opening. A tall boy came in, +whistling, and pulled up short as his eyes fell on her. He was about her +own age, or a little older. + +Mary never forgot in after years the kindness and friendliness of his +face as his eyes rested upon her. He came forward slowly, putting out +his hand. The colour flooded his face to the roots of his fair hair. + +"You came with Lady Anne Hamilton," he said. "I found the carriage +outside. I have sent it round to the stables and told the man to put up +the horses for a while. He will want some refreshment; and they need a +rest." + +Mary put a limp hand into the frankly extended one. + +"I couldn't find my way out," she said, with a sigh of relief. "I +thought there were no doors. I was going to see the gardens while Lady +Anne and Lady Drummond talked." + +"Let me come with you," the boy said eagerly. "I don't know how anybody +stays in the house on such a day. Do you like puppies? I have a +beautiful litter of Clumber spaniels. And I should like you to see my +pony. I have just been out on him. It's a bit slow here, all alone, +after so many fellows at school. I'm at Eton, you know. I am going back +next Thursday. Shan't be altogether sorry, either, though I'll miss some +things." + +They went out together into the golden autumn afternoon. First they went +round the gardens, where the boy picked some roses and made them into a +little bunch for Mary. He took a peach from a red wall and gave it to +her. They sat down together on a seat to eat their fruit. Gardeners and +gardeners' assistants passing by touched their hats respectfully. It +was, "Yes, Sir Robin," and "No, Sir Robin." The young master had a good +many questions to ask of the gardeners. He was evidently well liked, to +judge by the smiles with which they greeted him. + +"They're no end of good fellows," he confided to Mary. "The mater's +rather down on them; thinks they don't do enough. It's a mistake, a +woman trying to run a place like this. She can't understand as a man +does. Now, if you've finished your peach, Miss Gray, we'll go round to +the stable yard and see the puppies. After that I'll show you the pony. +His name's Ajax, and he's rather rippin'. Do you like Kerry cows? The +mater has a herd of them--jolly little beasts, but a bit wicked, some of +them. You needn't be afraid of them. They wouldn't touch you while I'm +there." + +Mary inspected the Clumber puppies, and was promised the pick of the +litter if Lady Anne would allow her to accept it. + +"She won't refuse," said the boy, confidently. "She thinks no end of +me." + +"Unless the puppy might worry Fifine." + +"The puppy wouldn't take any notice of that thing--the old dog, I mean. +Besides, she lives in her basket, doesn't she? You might keep the puppy +in the stables and take him for walks whenever you can. He'll have a +beautiful coat like his mother, and if he's half as clever as she +is...!" + +"He's a lovely thing," said Mary, hugging the puppy, who was licking her +face energetically and patting her with tremendous paws. + +They visited the paddock next; and Sir Robin, springing on Ajax's back, +trotted him up and down for Mary's inspection. He had a good seat in the +saddle, and he looked his best on horseback. To be sure, Mary had not +discovered that Sir Robin was plain, his mother's plainness militating +in him against what share of beauty he might have inherited from his +father. There was something so exhilarating to Mary in the afternoon's +experience, after its beginning so badly, that she forgot what had gone +before. She thought Sir Robin a kind and delightful boy. They saw the +Kerries, and afterwards there were the rabbits, and the ferrets, and the +guinea-pigs to be visited. Intimacy advanced by leaps and bounds. Before +the inspection had concluded she was "Mary" to her new-found friend, +although she was too reticent by nature to think of addressing him so +familiarly. + +They had forgotten the time till half-past five struck from a clock in +the stable-yard. At this time they were down by a pond in the shrubbery, +where there was an islet with a water-hen's nest and a couple of swans +sailing on the water. There was a boat, too, and Sir Robin was just +getting it out preparatory to rowing Mary round the pond. + +"Oh!" she said, with a little start. "What time is that?" + +"Half-past five. I'd no idea it was so late." + +"Nor I. I must go back at once. Lady Anne said we should be returning +about five. I hope she will not be very angry with me." + +Mary had begun to tremble. She always trembled in moments of agitation, +as a slender young poplar might shiver in the wind. + +The boy jumped out of the boat hastily. + +"There, don't be frightened," he said. He had caught a glimpse of Mary's +face. "Lady Anne won't mind. She's a good sort. You should see the +hampers she sends me. The mater doesn't approve of school hampers. You +must put the blame on me. It was my fault entirely, for I had a watch." + +They hurried along the path leading back to the open space in front of +the house. When they emerged into the open a breathless maid came +towards them. + +"I've been looking everywhere for you and the young lady, Sir Robin," +she said. "Lady Anne Hamilton is waiting for Miss Gray." + +Poor Mary! When they arrived in the drawing-room it was not with Lady +Anne she had to count. Lady Anne sat with an air of humorous patience on +her face, but Lady Drummond's brow was thunderous. The haughty +indignation in her pale eyes terrified the very soul in Mary. She shrank +away from it in terror. + +"I had no idea you were with Miss Gray, Robin," she heard the lady say +in glacial accents. + +"I discovered Miss Gray trying to find her way out of the library. No +one could find those doors without knowing something about them. And we +went to see the puppies and the pony and the other beasts." + +"We'd better be going, Mary," Lady Anne said, standing up. "You and +Robin have made my visit quite a visitation." + +"The horses had to rest and the coachman to have his tea," said Sir +Robin, sturdily. + +"You take too much care of your horses, Anne," Lady Drummond said. "They +are too fat; they can't be healthy. And your coachman is very fat, too." + +"Oh, they take it easy, they take it easy," Lady Anne said, laughing; +"they've only my temper to worry them." + +They left Lady Drummond looking as black as thunder in the drawing-room. +Sir Robin escorted them to their carriage. + +"So sorry, Lady Anne," he said, apologetically. "It was my fault. I hope +you won't be angry with Miss Gray." + +"It is your mother's annoyance has to be considered, my dear boy," +answered Lady Anne, while he tucked the rug about her. + +"All the same, Miss Gray and I had a rippin' time," he said, flinging +back his head with an air of humorous defiance. "And--I say--you're too +good to me, you know, you really are." Lady Anne had pressed something +into his palm. "The mater doesn't see what boys want with so much +pocket-money. Sometimes I don't know what I'd do only for you. There are +so many things a fellow has to subscribe to." + +The carriage rolled off, leaving him bare-headed on the drive in front +of the house. + +"That's a good boy," said Lady Anne, emphatically. "He has his father's +heart. He's getting the ways of the master about him, too. I can tell by +Jennings' back that he's had a good tea. He'll be a good son, but the +time will come when he'll choose for himself. Well, Mary, I hope you've +enjoyed yourself. Matilda won't want to see me for a month of Sundays +again. Nor I her, for the matter of that. Dear me, she can make herself +unpleasant." + +Mary sat in a conscience-stricken silence during that homeward drive. +Yet Lady Anne was not angry with her--that was very obvious. She seemed +to be enjoying herself, too, judging by the smile that played about her +lips. Now and again she cast a humorous glance on Mary. Once she +chuckled aloud. + +"Never mind me, my dear," she said, in answer to Mary's glance. "I was +only thinking of something Denis Drummond, Gerald Drummond's elder +brother, said of her Ladyship. Ah, poor Denis! He'd face a charge of the +guns more readily than he would her Ladyship. Odd, isn't it, Mary, how +those thoroughly disagreeable women can make themselves feared?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +"OLD BLOOD AND THUNDER" + + +Sir Denis Drummond had been his brother Gerald's senior by some seven or +eight years. He, too, was a soldier, and had inherited the baronetcy +from his father, upon whom the title had been bestowed by a grateful +country for services in the field. A second baronetcy in the family had +been specially created for Sir Gerald. It would not have been easy to +say which was the finer soldier of the two brothers; for while Sir +Gerald had made his name famous by the most dare-devil and brilliant +feats, Sir Denis was rather the old type of soldier--cool as well as +daring, always reliable and steady. Worshipped by his men, his name was +one to be held in constant regard by the British public, which calls its +heroes by their Christian names abbreviated, if they do not happen, +indeed, to have a nickname for them. + +"Old Blood and Thunder" was the name by which Sir Denis was known to his +men, and that from a certain violence of speech of which he had never +been able, or perhaps had never desired, to divest himself. This +violence had somewhat annoyed his brother Gerald, who could get as much +exhortation out of a verse of Scripture as ever he needed. Sir Denis, +like many old soldiers, was quite a devout man in his way; but he had +none of the zealot passion of his younger brother. The hidden fires +which had given Sir Gerald a certain haggardness of aspect, as though a +sculptor had hewed him roughly in marble, had never burned in Sir +Denis's breast. He was a red-faced, white-moustached veteran, as +blustering as the west wind, but with a heart as soft as wax in the +hands of his daughter Nelly, and, indeed, in the hands of anyone else +who knew the way to it. + +His servants adored him, as did the dogs and all animals and children. +He was beautiful in his manner to women of high and low degree, with +perhaps one exception. He was as simple as a child, and loved the +popular applause which fell to him whenever he made any kind of public +appearance, for he had been so long a Londoner that now the London crowd +knew him and had a sense of possession in him. His rosy face would beam +all over when the crowd shouted itself hoarse for "Old Blood and +Thunder." He did not at all object to the name, which had filtered from +regimental into common use. The crowd was always "Boys!" to him. He had +a most amiable feeling towards it, were it ever so frowsy and undersized +and sallow. But he loved a soldier-man, and could hardly bear to pass +one in the street without stopping to speak to him. + +One delightful thing about Sir Denis was the esteem in which he held his +own calling of arms. It might be questioned whether he held the Church +even in higher honour. He was no subscriber to the belief that the army +must necessarily be a refuge of rapscallions. "Straighten your +shoulders, sir; hold your head high; for, remember that you are now a +soldier!" he would say to the newest recruit who had just scraped +through with a margin of chest. His thunderous wrath and sorrow when one +of his "boys" was guilty of conduct unbecoming a soldier were something +which, in time, impressed even the least impressionable. His old +regiment, which he delighted to talk about, he had left a model +regiment. + +"There's a deal of good in the soldier-man," he would say to his +daughter Nelly. "The poor fellows, they're good boys, they're very good +boys." + +Sir Denis had married, as he was approaching middle age, a very +beautiful young girl, who had fallen in love at first with the soldier, +and afterwards with the man. + +His Nell had left him in his daughter Nelly a replica of herself. During +the years of service that remained to him the child was always as near +to him as might be. Fortunately, by this time the period of his foreign +service was all but at an end. Wherever he had his command the child and +her nurse were always within riding distance. He did not believe in +barracks and towns for the rearing of anything so fresh and tender. His +Nelly must have the fields and the woods and the waters. In later years +her milkmaid freshness owed, perhaps, something to this upbringing. + +Later, she went to school. Sir Gerald's widow, to whom Sir Denis always +referred as the Dowager, who had taken an unasked-for interest in the +motherless child from her birth, had found the ideal school for Nelly--a +school where the daughters of the aristocracy were kept in a conventual +seclusion while they learnt as little as might be of the simpler +virtues, but a deal of the way to step in and out of a carriage, to +comport themselves with dignity, to bear themselves in the presence of +their sovereign, and so on. + +Sir Denis, who had not been consulted, made a pretence of interviewing +the Misses de Crespigny, by whom this aristocratic preserve was +safeguarded. + +He had listened to Miss Selina de Crespigny's eloquent exposition of the +system adopted at De Crespigny House. Then he had torn it all to pieces +as one might the delicate fabric of a spider's web, constructed at +infinite cost. + +"And, tell me now, do you teach them to be good daughters and wives and +mothers?" he asked, with his air of convincing simplicity. "Do you teach +them their duties to their husbands and children, ma'am, may I ask?" + +Miss de Crespigny positively gasped. There was an indelicacy about the +General's speech, to her manner of thinking. + +"We expect our young ladies' mothers to teach them all that," she said, +stiffly. + +"And they don't. In nine cases out of ten they don't. They've too much +to do otherwise. Whether it is philanthropy or politics, or just amusing +themselves, they've all got too much to do," Sir Denis said, with a +simple air that made it doubtful if this criticism of Society's ways was +adverse or not. + +Nelly did not go to De Crespigny House. She went, instead, to a much +less pretentious school, kept by a family of four sisters, for whom the +dry bones of teaching had been clothed with life. The house was perched +on a high, windy cliff. The sisters, Miss Stella and Miss Clara, Miss +Lucy and Miss Marianne, did their own teaching, and did it in a +perfectly unconventional way to the twenty or so girls who made up their +school. + +When Nelly came home to her father at seventeen years of age, it would +not have been easy to find a fresher, franker specimen of young +girlhood. In fact, to her father's eyes she was somewhat alarmingly +bright and fair. + +"The young fellows will be about her thick as bees," he said to himself +in a frightened way. "I won't have any nonsense about Nelly. I want my +girl to myself for a little while. Afterwards there is that arrangement +of the Dowager's about Nelly and Robin. I don't care for the marriage of +first cousins. And I'm not sure that I care for Robin; still, he is poor +Gerald's son. There can be nothing against poor Gerald's son." + +He was so afraid of possible lovers for Nelly that he actually suggested +to her that she should go to a smart finishing school for the couple of +years that separated him from the sixty-five limit. + +"After that," he said, faintheartedly, for there was a sparkle in +Nelly's eye which discouraged him, "we shall settle down in London, and +you shall see all you want to see. There are quiet nooks and corners to +be had, even in London. I think I know the one I shall choose. Be a good +girl, Nelly, and go to Madame Celeste's. A garrison town is no place for +you. Unless, indeed, you would like to go to the Dowager, as she +wishes." + +"I shan't go to the Dowager, and I shan't go to Madame Celeste's," said +Nelly, dimpling and sparkling. "I shall stay with my old Dad and take +care of him." + +"What, Nell? 'Shan't'! You forget you're talking to your commanding +officer. Rank insubordination--that is what I call it!" + +"Call it what you like," Miss Nelly replied. "I'm going to stay. A +finishing school at seventeen! I never heard the like!" + +With that she put her arms round the General's neck, and that was the +final argument. Secretly, indeed, he was not altogether sorry to be +worsted. He had done his best to ward off the things that might happen. +Now he was going to trust in Providence and keep his little girl with +him. To be sure, he had known that she would never go to the Dowager's. +Nelly had never considered that possibility. After all, it was a relief +that they were not going to be parted. + +During the two years Nelly, indeed, had many admirers and lovers, but +she was not attracted by any of them. She was kind and friendly and +engaging; but she was unconscious with her lovers, or so it seemed to +the jealous, fatherly eyes, to the verge of coldness. + +He often said to himself that he could not understand Nell. None of the +gay, handsome, gallant soldier lads seemed to have the least attraction +in that way for her. To be sure, she was a child, and there was plenty +of time. Why shouldn't her old father keep her for the years to come? +Unless--unless, that fellow Robin had been beforehand with the +others--Robin, who had refused point-blank to be a soldier, and had +even, to the General's bitter offence, actually spoken at the Oxford +Union "On the Waste and Wickedness of a Standing Army." The General had +nearly had a fit over that. Good Heavens! Gerald's son, Sir Massey +Drummond's grandson, to be found on the side of the Philistines like +that! What chill was in the boy's blood? What crook in his character? +What bee in his bonnet? + +The General had sworn then that Robin never should have his Nelly. But +the Dowager had been sapping and mining and laying plans to bring about +the marriage almost from Nelly's infancy, when she had come in and +altered the constituents of Nelly's baby bottles, and had infuriated +Nelly's wholesome country nurse to the point of departure. The General +had come just in time then to find Mrs. Loveday fastening the +cherry-coloured strings of her bonnet with fingers that trembled, and +had been put to the very edge of his simple diplomacy to undo the +Dowager's work. He knew his own helplessness where women were concerned. +Nelly might see something in Robin, confound him, that the General could +not. + +At this point he would remember that, after all, Robin was poor Gerald's +son, if an unworthy one, and be contrite. But then the grievance would +revive of a far-back Quaker ancestor of Lady Drummond, whom the General +blamed for the peace-loving instincts of poor Gerald's boy; and once +again he would be furious. + +Meanwhile, Nelly's frank, innocent eyes, blue as gentians, had no +consciousness of a lover. Her old father seemed to be enough for her. At +one moment they gave him the fullest assurance; the next he was in heats +and colds of apprehension about the lover, be it Robin or another, who +would take his little girl from him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BLUE RIBBON + + +The half-dozen years or so following Sir Denis's retirement were years +of peace, in which he forgot for long periods, broken only by the +Dowager's visits to London, his fear of losing his Nelly. + +He had taken a house in Sherwood Square, where there is a space and +breeziness that the fashionable districts could not possibly allow. + +The square sits on top of one of the highest hills in London, and +entrenches itself as a fortress against the poverty and squalor that are +creeping up the hill towards it. Around the square there are still +gardens and crescents and roads of consideration, but ever dwindling in +social status as one goes down the hill, till the consideration vanishes +in the degradation of cheap boarding-houses and the homes of Jews of the +shopkeeping classes. + +Sir Denis had discovered Sherwood Square for himself, and was uncommonly +proud of it. He liked to point out to his friends that he rented a +palatial mansion for what a _pied-à-terre_ in Mayfair would have cost +him. The houses had been built by wealthy merchants and professional +people in the eighteenth century. They had splendours of double doors +and marble pavements, of frescoed walls and ceilings, and carved +mantelpieces. They were entered from a quiet street which showed hardly +a sign of life. There were lions couchant guarding the entrances. The +walls on that side showed mostly blank, uninteresting windows. With an +odd pride the great houses showed only their duller aspects to the +world. + +All the living-rooms except one looked on the other side; and what a +difference! There was a great stretch of emerald-green turf such as one +would never look to see in London; to be sure, gardeners had been +watering and mowing and rolling it for over a century. In the turf were +many flower-beds, and here and there were forest trees which had been +there when the district was fields. Country birds came and built there +year after year. You might hear the thrush begin about January. And in +the spring it was a wilderness of sweet hyacinths and daffodils, lilac +and may. The rooms were spacious and splendid within the big +cream-coloured house; and the General used to say that in the early +morning, when the smoke had cleared away, it was possible from the upper +windows to see as far as the Surrey hills. However, that was something +which nobody but himself had tested. + +In the house love and friendliness and good-will reigned supreme. The +General had insisted on engaging his own servants, much to the disgust +of the Dowager, who had several _protégés_ of her own practically +engaged. When the General had outwitted Lady Drummond on this occasion +by a flank movement, he was very gleeful in his confidential moments +alone with Nelly. + +"She wanted to put in her spies and satellites, did she, Nelly, my girl? +Pretty stories of us they'd have carried to her Ladyship. The only +womanly thing your aunt has, my girl, is an invincible curiosity. She'd +like to know what we had for lunch and dinner, who came to see us, and +what clothes we wore. I'm glad you wouldn't have that mantua-maker of +hers. Cannot my girl have her frocks made where she likes? I'll tell you +what, Nelly: your aunt is a presumptuous, meddling, overbearing, +impertinent woman--that she is." + +"Why don't you tell her to leave us alone, papa?" + +But the General, whose courage had never been doubted during all the +years of his strenuous life, had very little bravery when it came to a +question of telling hard truths to a woman, and that woman the Dowager. + +"We must remember, after all, Nelly," he would say then, "that she is +your Uncle Gerald's widow. Poor Gerald! what a dear fellow he was! No +matter what we say between ourselves, we can't quarrel with Gerald's +widow." + +And Sir Denis, who was becoming garrulous in old age, would slip off +into some reminiscence of the younger brother to whom he had been +tenderly attached, and for whom he had also a certain hero-worship +because he had been so fine and heroic a soldier. + +Certainly it said well for the servants whom Sir Denis and Nelly had +chosen for themselves that they fell in so completely with the kindness +and honesty and good-will of the house. Some credit was doubtless due +also to Sir Denis's soldier servant, whom he had installed as butler; +for Pat's loyalty and devotion to "Old Blood and Thunder" must have +influenced the class of persons who are so susceptible of impressions +from those of their own station, while the standards and exhortations of +their social superiors are as though they were not. Pat was lynx-eyed +for a malingerer in his Honour's service; and, indeed, where the rule +was so easy and pleasant there was no excuse for malingering. Pat, too, +was ably seconded by Bridget, the cook, who had come in originally as +kitchen-maid, and had in time taken the place of the very important and +pretentious functionary with whom they had started, and whose cookery +did not at all suit Sir Denis's digestion, impaired somewhat by long +years in India. The young kitchen-maid had taken the cook's place during +the latter's holiday, and had sent up for Sir Denis's dinner a little +clear soup, a bit of turbot with a sauce which was in itself genius, a +bird roasted to the nicest golden brown, and a pudding which was only +ground rice, but had an insubstantial delicacy about it quite unlike +what one associates with the homely cereal. + +"You've saved my life, my girl," said Sir Denis, meeting Bridget on the +stairs the morning after this banquet, and presenting her with a golden +sovereign, "and if you like to stay on as cook at forty pounds a year, +why so you shall." + +"You could shave yourself in her sauce-pans, your Honour," said Pat, +when he heard of this amazing promotion. It was Pat's way of saying that +Bridget polished her utensils till they reflected like a mirror. "She's +a rale good little girsha, that's what she is, the same Bridget; and I'm +rale glad, your Honour, that ould consiquince isn't comin' back again." + +After that there were few changes. The servants were in clover, and +since Pat and Bridget knew it, and impressed it on their subordinates, +it came to be a generally recognised fact. To be sure, it made it +pleasanter for everyone in the house when, thanks to Bridget's excellent +plain cooking. Sir Denis forgot he had such a thing as a liver, and had +no more of the gouty attacks which made his temper east-windy instead of +west-windy. During those peaceful years he forgot to be choleric. He was +overflowing with kindness and helpfulness to those about him, and took a +paternal interest in the affairs of his household. + +"Sure," Pat would say to Bridget, "'tis for marrying us he'd be, if he +knew how it was with us, same as he married off Rose to the postman and +gave them a cottage; and that new girl isn't up to Rose's work yet, nor +ever will be, unless I'm mistaken." + +"'Twould be a sin to take advantage of him," Bridget would answer. "And +we're both young enough to wait a bit, Pat. There'll be new ways when +Miss Nelly marries Sir Robin. Maybe 'tis going to live with them he'd +be." + +"He never will, so long as her Ladyship's alive," said Pat, +emphatically. + +"Then maybe we'd be havin' him for a furnished lodger," said Bridget. +"I'd rather it 'ud be something in the country. Why wouldn't you be his +coachman as well, Pat? Sure, anything you don't know about horses isn't +worth the knowin'." + +"True for you. We might have a little lodge," said Pat. + +They were really the quietest and most peaceful years--unless the +Dowager happened to be in town. Then something went dreadfully wrong +with the General's temper, and he would come roaring downstairs and +along the corridors like a winter storm. The servants' hall used to take +a tender interest in those bad days. + +"Somebody ought to spake to her," said Bridget. "Supposin' the gout was +to go to his heart! He was bad enough after the last time she was here." + +"She'll never lave hoult of him," said Pat, solemnly. "The sort of her +Ladyship houlds on the tighter the more you wriggle. He's preparing a +quare bed of repentance for himself, so he is, the langwidge he's usin' +about her all over the house. By-and-by he'll be rememberin' she's Sir +Gerald's widdy, and'll be askin' me ashamed-like, 'I hope I didn't say +too much about her Ladyship in my timper, Pat. She's a tryin' woman, a +very tryin' woman. I'm afraid I'm apt to forget now an' agin that she's +my dear brother's widdy, so I am.'" + +Pat's imitation of Sir Denis was really admirable. + +"'Tis a pity he doesn't run her out of the house," said Bridget, +"instead of lettin' her bother the heart out of him like that." + +"He couldn't say a rough word to a woman, not if it was to save his +life," said Pat. "Nothin' rougher thin 'No, ma'am,' and 'Yes, ma'am,' I +ever heard him say to her. Whirroo, Bridget, you should ha' heard him +whin his timper was up givin' it to us long ago in the barrack square. I +hope it isn't the suppressed gout she'll be giving him the next time! +'Tisn't half as bad whin it's out." + +However, the storms were few and far between. The household lived by +rule. Every morning, winter and summer, the horses were at the door by +eight o'clock for the morning canter of the General and Miss Nelly in +the park. At nine o'clock the household assembled for prayers. After +breakfast Sir Denis walked to his club in Pall Mall, wet or dry. He +would read the papers and discuss the cheeseparing policy of the +Government with some of his old chums, lunch at the club, play a game of +dominoes or draughts, and return home in time for dinner. Frequently +they entertained a friend or two quietly at dinner. But, company or no +company, there were prayers at ten o'clock, after which the General took +his candle and went to his bedroom. + +There were times, of course, when Nelly went out to balls and +entertainments, and then Sir Denis was to be seen on duty, even though +there were a good many ladies who would be willing to take the +chaperonage of his daughter off his hands. But that was an office he +would relinquish to no one. He was the most patient of chaperons, too, +and never grumbled if the daylight found him still at the whist-table, +although he would rise at the same hour as usual and carry out his +appointed round for the day as if he had not lost his sleep over-night. +Of course, Nelly might stay a-bed. He wouldn't have Nelly's roses +spoilt, and the young needed their proper amount of sleep. As for +himself, he couldn't sleep a wink after seven, no matter how late he had +been up the night before. + +But, on the whole, they lived a quiet life. Nelly was too unselfish, too +fond of her father, to cost him many nights without his usual sleep. She +had really the quietest tastes. Her few friends, her books, her music, +her dogs and birds, sufficed for her happiness. They had a houseful of +dogs, by the way, and any description of the way of life in Sherwood +Square which made no mention of dogs would be quite insufficient. Duke +the Irish terrier and Bonaparte the pug, usually Boney, and Nelson the +bull terrier, were as important and characteristic members of the +household as anyone else, except, perhaps, Sir Denis and Miss Nelly. +Nelly used to explain her stay-at-home ways to her friends by saying +that the dogs were offended with her if she went out for a walk without +them. The dogs had many tricks. They knew the terms of drill as well as +any soldier, and were always ready for parade, or to die for their +country, or groan for their country's enemies, at the General's word of +command. Nelly had to be much out-of-doors, as the dogs were clamorous +for walks, and she kept her roses in London with the old milkmaid +sweetness. + +There was one happening of the quiet day that stood out for Sir Denis, +and, although he did not know it, for his daughter also. + +Sir Denis's old regiment happened to be stationed at a barracks in the +immediate neighbourhood. To reach their parade-ground it was possible +for the troops, by making a little detour, to pass along the quiet +street on which the houses in Sherwood Square opened. It became an +established thing that they should pass every morning about nine +o'clock. How that came Sir Denis did not trouble to ask. He was quite +satisfied and delighted that "the boys" should do him honour. + +The breakfast-room was one of the few rooms that did not overlook the +square but the street. Every morning, just as Sir Denis concluded +prayers, there would come the steady trot of cavalry and the jingle of +accoutrements. If he had not quite finished, he would say "Amen" in a +reverent hurry. "Come now, boys and girls," he would say to the +servants, "I want you to see my old regiment." + +He would step out on the balcony above the hall-door with a beaming +face, and his arm around his Nelly's waist. The servants would press +behind him, the dogs push to the front with the curiosity of their kind. +Down the street the soldiers would come, all flashing in scarlet and +gold, the sleek horses shining in the morning sun with a deeper lustre +than their polished accoutrements. There would be a halt for a second in +front of the house. The men would salute their old General, the General +salute his old regiment. Then the cavalcade would sweep on its way and +the street be duller than before. + +One morning--it was a bright, breezy morning of March--the wind had +caught Nelly's golden hair and blown it in a halo about her face. She +was wearing a blue ribbon in it. She was fond of blue, and the +simplicity of it became her fresh youth. Just as the soldiers halted the +wind caught Nelly's blue bow, and, having played with it a little, sent +it drifting down like a little blue flower among the men on horseback. + +It was such a slight thing that the General might not have noticed it. +Anyhow, he made no comment, but watched the troops out of sight as +usual. The odd thing was that Nelly passed over her loss in silence, +although she must have missed her blue ribbon, since without it her hair +had become loose in the wind. + +At breakfast, when the servants had left the room, the General made a +remark. + +"That young Langrishe sits his horse well," he said. "He's a good +soldier, Nelly, my girl. A very good soldier, or I'm much mistaken." + +But Nelly was apparently too absorbed in her duty of making the tea to +answer the remark. For an instant she was redder than a rose. No one +would have suspected Sir Denis of slyness, but the look he shot at the +girl was certainly sly. Under the white tablecloth he rubbed his hands +softly together. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CHANCE MEETING + + +It was worse for the General when Sir Robin Drummond left Oxford and +settled in London, with an avowed intention of reading for the Bar, and +at the same time making politics his real career. + +"A man ought to do something in the world," he said to his irate uncle. +"The Bar is always a stepping-stone. I confess I don't look to practice +very much; my real bent is for politics. But the law interests me, and +it is always a stepping-stone." + +"I should have thought that the profession of arms, which your father +and your grandfather adorned, as well as a good many of your forbears, +might serve you as well," Sir Denis said, hotly. + +"You leave out my uncle, sir," the young man replied, with urbane good +humour. "Yes, the Drummonds have done very well for the profession of +arms. Still, with my beliefs on the subject of war----" + +"Pray don't air them, don't air them. You know what I think about them. +Your father's son ought to be ashamed of professing such sentiments." + +"One must abide by one's sentiments, one's convictions, if one is to be +good for anything. Uncle Denis," Sir Robin said, patiently. + +"You'll have no chance in politics. No constituency will return you. +What we want now is a strong Government that will strengthen us, through +our Army and Navy, sir, against our enemies. Such a Government will come +in at the next election a-top of the wave. The people, or I am much +mistaken, are not going to see the bulwarks of our power tampered with. +The country is all for war. Where do you come in?" + +Sir Robin smiled ever so slightly. It was that smile of his, with its +faintest hint of intellectual superiority, that riled the General to +bursting point. + +"I don't believe there is a war feeling, Uncle Denis," he said. "The +country has had enough of war. However, I should not come in on top of a +wave of war feeling in any case. You would be quite right in asking +where I should come in. To be sure, I look to come in on top of the +anti-war wave. My side is pledged against war. The working man----" + +"You don't mean to say that you're going to appeal to _him_!" Sir Denis +shouted. "You don't mean to say that you're going to side with the +Radicals! I've lived to see many strange things, but--Gerald's son a +Radical!" + +He brought out the ejaculations with the sound of guns popping. His face +was red with indignation, his eyes leaping at his degenerate nephew. The +next words did not tend to calm him. + +"Do you know, Uncle Denis, I believe that if my father had been a +politician he would have been a Radical? His profound feeling for +Christianity, his adherence to the creed of its Founder, Whose whole +life was a glorification of toil----" + +"Spare me, spare me!" cried the General, restraining himself with +difficulty. "So a man can't be a Christian and a gentleman! And you +think your father would have been a Radical! I can tell you, young +gentleman----" + +At this moment Nelly came into the room, charming in her short-waisted +frock of white satin, with a little cap of pearls on her hair. Both men +turned and stared at her, pleasure and affection in their eyes. + +"So you've been heckling poor Robin as usual," she said, stroking her +father's cheek. "Heckling poor Robin and getting your hair on end like a +fretful porcupine. I'll never be able to make you into a nice, sweet, +quiet old gentleman." + +"Turn your attention to him," said the General, indicating his nephew by +an unfriendly nod. "What do you think, Nell? He's a Radical. He's going +to contest a seat for the Radicals. What do you say now?" + +"Pooh!" said Nelly, with her pretty chin in the air. "Pooh! Why +shouldn't he? Lots of nice people are Radicals. If he feels that way, of +course he ought to do it." + +Robin's unpractical eyes thanked her mutely. He was as plain-looking a +man as he had been a boy, more hatchet-faced than ever. He was long and +lean and angular, and his positions were ungraceful. But his eyes were +the eyes of Don Quixote. The eyes had appealed to Nelly as long as she +could remember. + +"Oh, if you're against me, Nell!" said Sir Denis, lamely. "Ah! there's +the bell! And a good thing, too. I couldn't eat my lunch to-day for old +Grogan of the Artillery. He's a man with a grievance. It soured my wine +and spoilt my food. Well, well, Robin, if you're under Nelly's +protection you may do what you like--join the Peace Society, if you +like." + +"I mean to, sir," Sir Robin said, placidly. "In fact, I'm speaking on +'The Ideal of a Universal Peace' on Monday evening at the Finsbury +Democratic Debating Club." + +When Sir Robin came to town there had been an apprehension in his +uncle's breast, too well-founded, that the Dowager would follow him. She +was devoted to her son, and not at all disposed to take the General's +views about his recreancy in politics. + +"A good many good people are on the Radical side, after all," she said, +"and there is, perhaps, more room, too, for a young man of Robin's +ambitions in the Radical party." + +"So far as I can see," said the General, acidly, "his ambitions are +rather to succeed at the bottom than at the top. The applause of the +multitude appeals to him more than the praise of his equals or +superiors." + +Lady Drummond glanced coldly at his heated face. + +"I fancy you've an attack of gout coming on, Denis," she said. "I should +send for Sir Harley Dix, if I were you." + +She had stopped the General just as he was on his own doorstep, setting +his face cheerfully eastwards on his way to Pall Mall. He had come back +with her. He knew his duty to his brother's widow better than to do +anything else. It was Wednesday, and on Wednesday there was always a +particular curry at lunch which he much affected. He was a connoisseur +in curries, and the _chef_ always made this with an eye to Sir Denis's +approval. He would have to shorten his walk and 'bus part of the way, or +the curry would be cold. He hated to be put out in his daily routine. + +"I never was freer from gout in my life, Matilda," he said, with +indignation. "I don't trouble the doctors much. When I want their advice +I shall ask for it. I always ask for advice when I want it." + +She looked at him with unconcern. + +"Do you think Nelly will soon be back?" she asked. + +"I don't know. When she takes the dogs for a walk she is often out for a +couple of hours. Perhaps it would be too long a time to wait." + +In his mind he could see the curry disappearing before the other men who +liked it as much as he did. Grogan would always eat curry--that special +curry--to the General's indignation. Why, curry was the last thing +Grogan ought to eat! Wasn't he as yellow as the curry itself with +chronic liver? Grogan was greedy over that curry--a greedy fellow, the +General said to himself, remembering the many occasions when it had been +impossible for him to break away from Grogan and his grievances. If her +Ladyship was going to sit on endlessly! The General's manners were too +good to leave her to sit by herself. And she was untying her bonnet +strings! He might as well lunch at home. No, he wouldn't do that, not if +her Ladyship was going to stay to lunch. He supposed he could have lunch +somewhere, if not at his club. + +"Pray, don't put yourself out for me, Denis," her Ladyship was saying, +with what passed for graciousness in her. "I know your usual habits. At +your age a man doesn't like to be put out of his habits. Don't mind me, +pray. I can amuse myself very well till Nelly comes in. Plenty of books +and papers, I see. You subscribe to Mudie's. I thought no one subscribed +to Mudie's now that we have so many Free Libraries. I have never been +able to afford myself a library subscription, even although we lived in +the country. Now that I am going to settle in town----" + +"Settle in town!" The General's eyes were almost starting from his head. +"I'd no idea, Matilda, you were going to settle in town. What's going to +become of the Court?" + +"I have an idea of letting it for a few years. Mr. Higbid, the very rich +hide merchant, has taken a fancy to the place. I have yet to hear what +Robin will say. Mr. Higbid is prepared to pay a fancy price----" + +"He'd have to before I'd let him into my drawing-room," said the +General, with disgust. "Imagine letting the Court! And to a man who +sells hides!" + +"His money is as good as anybody else's. And he is received everywhere. +You are really too old-fashioned, Denis. Your ways need altering." + +"I am too old to change, ma'am," said the General, getting up and giving +himself a shake like a dog. "If you don't really mind being left----" He +wanted to get away to think over the fact that the Dowager was going to +settle in town. He could hardly keep himself from groaning. His peace +was all at an end. If he had not been too old to change, he would have +fled from London and left it to the Dowager. But big as it was, it was +too little to contain himself and the Dowager with any prospect of +peace. + +"I'll stay and have lunch with Nelly," the Dowager went on, quite +ignorant of his perturbation. "Afterwards, I'm going to take her to see +houses with me. _Of course_, I shall settle in your immediate +neighbourhood, if I can find anything suitable. I'm going to take Nelly +off your hands a bit, take her about and advise her as to her frocks. +She was wearing white chiffon the last time we dined here--a most +perishable material. I don't think your purse is long enough for white +chiffon, Denis. Then the young people ought to see more of each other. +We ought to be talking about trousseaux----" + +But at this point the General fled. If he had stayed another second he +would have said things that his kind and chivalrous heart would have +grieved over later. He fled, and left her Ladyship staring after him in +amazement. + +He clean forgot about the curry in the fretting and fuming of his mind, +or it occurred to him only to be consigned to Grogan, as though Grogan +were a synonym for something much stronger. His fiery indignation +between Sherwood Square and Pall Mall was quite amazing. The Dowager in +the next street! Why, he might as well order his coffin. And talking +about taking Nelly from him. That muff, Robin, too! When had the fellow +shown any impatience? He didn't want the girl to marry an oyster. He +remembered the glory and glamour of his own love affair, of that golden +year of marriage. His Nelly ought to be loved as her mother had been +before her, as her mother's daughter deserved to be. He wasn't going to +yield her to a fellow who would only give her half his tepid heart, who +would leave her to spend her evenings alone while he spouted in Radical +clubs or in that big talking shop, the House of Commons. He wouldn't +have it. And still----Robin was poor Gerald's son, and there was nothing +against him but his politics. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, the +General recognised the fact that he could have forgiven the politics if +it had not been for the Dowager. + +He had almost reached the doors of his club--Grogan might eat the curry +for him, and be hanged to him!--when he saw advancing towards him the +spare, elegant figure that sat its horse in front of the regiment below +the General's window every morning. The oddest gleam came into his eyes. +The young man had recognised him, and was blushing like a girl as he +came towards him. He had velvety brown eyes and regular features, was a +handsome lad, the General said to himself as young Langrishe lifted his +hat from his sleek, well-shaped head. He had the barest acquaintance +with Sir Denis, and he would have passed by if the old soldier had not +stopped him. + +"How do you do, Captain Langrishe?" he said. "I am very much obliged to +you for the pleasure you give me every morning. I take it as uncommonly +kind of you to bring 'the boys' past my house. I assure you I quite look +forward to it--I quite look forward to it." + +Langrishe stammered something about the regiment delighting to do honour +to its old General, growing redder and redder as he did so. His +confusion became him in the General's eyes. He was certainly a +pleasant-looking, well-mannered boy, the General decided, and the +confusion of the young soldier in the presence of the old soldier an +entirely natural and creditable thing. + +"I'll tell you what, my lad," said Sir Denis, putting his arm within the +other's: "if you've nothing better to do, supposing you come and lunch +with me. I'm just going in to the club. And you--on your way to it? I +thought so. You'll give me the pleasure of your company?" + +The General was half an hour late, yet he found a small table in a +window recess unappropriated. It was set for two, and a screen was drawn +about it so that the two could be as retired as they wished. More--the +General had not been forgotten in the distribution of the curry. Their +portions came up piping hot. From where they sat the General could see +Sir Rodney Vivash and Grogan button-holing each other. They were the +bores of the club, and for once they had foregathered, willingly or +unwillingly. + +After all, there were compensations--there were compensations; and the +General was hungry. His manner towards young Langrishe had an air of +fatherly kindness. There was a gratified flush on the young fellow's +lean, dark cheek. What was it the General had heard about Langrishe? Oh, +yes, that he had had rough luck--that his old uncle. Sir Peter--the +General remembered him for a curmudgeon--had married and had a son, +after rearing the young fellow as his heir. No wonder the lad looked +careworn. The regiment was an expensive one; not too expensive for Sir +Peter Langrishe's heir, but much too expensive for a poor man. + +However, it was no business of the General's--not just yet. + +"You have met my daughter, I think?" he said. They were at the cheese by +this time, and the General was apparently divided between the merits of +Gruyère and Stilton. He did not glance at Captain Langrishe, but he knew +quite as well as if he had that the colour came again to his cheek, that +the brown eyes looked unhappily conscious. + +"I have met Miss Drummond several times," he answered. + +"Ah, you must dine with us one evening." + +Young Langrishe looked at him in a startled way. + +"Thank you very much, sir," he said, "but, as a matter of fact, I am +negotiating a change into an Indian regiment. I don't know how long I +shall be here. And I shall be very busy, I'm afraid." + +"Ah! Just as you like--just as you like." The General, by the easiest of +transitions, passed on to the subject of soldiering in India. He had an +unwontedly exhilarated feeling which later had its reaction in a +consciousness of guilt. + +"What would poor Gerald have said?" he thought, as he walked homewards +that evening. "And I've nothing against Robin--I've nothing really +against Robin, except his Peace Societies and all the rest of it. And +the Dowager--yes, there's always the Dowager. I should like to know what +on earth ever induced poor Gerald to marry the Dowager." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +GROVES OF ACADEME + + +After that keen disappointment about the baby's forgetting her, although +she excused it to herself, arguing that at twenty months one cannot be +expected to have a long memory, Mary was more reconciled to the changed +conditions of her life. + +"I hope we are going to be together for a good many years," Lady Anne +said, "and presently you must be able to play and sing to me, to read to +me and take an interest in the things in which I am interested. You are +to go to school, Mary." + +So Mary went to school, first to the Queen's Preparatory School, then to +the Queen's College. Her years there were very happy ones, especially +those years at the College, after she had found her feet and made +friends, and gained confidence in herself and the world. + +"She sucks up knowledge as a sponge sucks up water," was the report of +the Principal, Miss Merton, to the delighted Lady Anne. "I hope Lady +Anne, that you will permit her to go in for her B.A. I should not be +surprised, indeed, if she captured a fellowship." + +"No fellowships," Lady Anne said, firmly. "What would she do with a +fellowship? I propose, as soon as she has done with you, to take her +abroad. I have a mind to see the world again through young eyes. And it +will put the coping-stone on her education. I shouldn't dare leave her +too long with you. Learning so often destroys a woman's imagination. +They work too hard, I suppose. It doesn't seem to come natural to them +yet as it does to men." + +"There's no question of Mary's working too hard," the Lady Principal +said, bearing these hard sayings of Lady Anne's with composure. "She has +fine brains. Whatever she wants in an intellectual way she can come at +easily." + +Mary, indeed, took her B.A. without over-much burning of the midnight +oil. Afterwards she always spoke with the tenderest affection of her old +school-days. She recalled with delight the spacious class-rooms, the old +garden with its great woodland trees, and the tiny rooms of the girls +who were in residence at the College, with their quaint and pretty +adornments--the place of so much young _camaraderie_ and soaring +ambition and happy emulation. "I can hardly remember that anyone was +ever unkind," she used to say long afterwards. + +As a matter of fact, the band of elder students with whom Mary was +connected in her latter days at the College had a generous enthusiasm +for her beauty, taking it as in a sense a credit to themselves. + +"You will be a living answer to them," said Jessie Baynes, who was small +and plain-looking, "when they say that learned women are always ugly." + +And the whole of the class applauded her speech. + +"I shall love to see you in your cap and gown," Jessie went on, firing +at the picture in her own imagination. "Very few of the men will be +taller than you, Mary. How they will shout!" + +Jessie had no thought at all of her own lack of height and grace, as she +had no idea of how pleasant her little brown face was despite its +plainness. She was going to earn her living by teaching, and, what was +more, going to make living easier and pleasanter for her mother and her +young sister. To get her mother out of stuffy town lodgings to a seaside +cottage, which was an unattainable heaven to the mother's thoughts, to +educate Edie and give her a chance in life--these were the things that +filled Jessie's mind to the exclusion of fear whenever she thought of +her ordeal at the conferring of the University degrees. To be sure, she +trembled a little when she thought of the long, brilliantly lighted +Hall, and all the fine ladies, and the scarlet robes of the Senators, +and the young barbarians in the gallery, and all the thousands of eyes +fixed on the one little dumpling of a woman going up to receive her +degree. If she might only win the fellowship! She would not care what +ordeal she passed through for that. So she put away the fear from her +mind. If she could only win the fellowship! But she was too humble about +her own attainments to have more than a little, little hope of that. + +How generous they all were, Mary thought, with an impulse of gratitude +towards those dear class-fellows that brought the tears to her eyes. + +"When we are photographed in our caps and gowns," said another, "you +must stand up in the middle of us, Mary, so that they will see how tall +you are." + +Mary reported their generosity to Lady Anne, with whom, by this time, +she was on the loving terms that cast out fear. + +"Very creditable to them," the old lady said, twinkling. "Don't let it +make you vain, Mary. You're well enough, but you aren't half as pretty +as a rose, or half as tall as a tree, and there are thousands of trees +and roses in the world." + +"I don't think myself pretty," Mary said, in a hurt voice. "There are +several of the girls far prettier. As for being tall, it is no pleasure. +I would much rather be little." + +"Your skirts will always cost you more than other girls'." + +"It is only because they are so kind and generous that they think well +of me," Mary went on. "And, oh! I do hope that Jessie will win the +fellowship. Everyone does, even----" + +"Even her opponents," the old lady said, drily. It was always Lady +Anne's way to seem cynical over things, even with those she loved best. + +"She has worked so hard for it," said Mary, "and Alice Egerton, who is +in the running, too, has shaken hands with Jessie, and told her that if +she wins it will only prove she is the better man." + +"Dear me, we are cultivating the manly virtues, too," said Lady Anne. +"Let me see: there are twenty young ladies in your class, and not a +spiteful one among them. I have never heard of so low a percentage." + +"If women were given something to think of besides petty interests," +Mary began hotly. "If they were educated, if they were given ideals----" + +"You are only on your trial yet, child," Lady Anne suggested. "We +produced very good women before Women's Colleges were heard of. I'm glad +they've not spoilt you, anyhow. No stooped shoulders, no narrow chest, +no dimmed eyes. I couldn't have forgiven them if they had made you pay a +price for your learning." + +When Mary received her B.A. degree she was applauded more rapturously +from the gallery than even the new Fellow, Miss Jessica Baynes, B.A., +who knew little enough about her own reception, since, as she left the +daïs, she had glanced up and made out her mother's little nutcracker +face, so like her own, in one of the circles of faces overhead. + +There was a little group in the balcony watching Mary with fond pride. +Lady Anne Hamilton's face shone again as the tall, slender young figure +went up amid the furious applause of the undergraduates, through which +the general clapping of hands could hardly be heard. Behind Lady Anne +were Mary's father and stepmother. Lady Anne had taken care that they +should not be forgotten in the distribution of tickets. Walter Gray +looked on quietly. He was very proud of his girl; but he had, perhaps, +too great a wisdom to set much store by the plaudits of the many. Mrs. +Gray, in a bonnet Mary had made for her and a mantle which had been +Mary's gift, was in a timid rapture. She was older by some years than +she had been when Mary went to Lady Anne first, but she was far more +comely. Her family seemed to have reached its limits, for one thing, and +she was no more the helpless drudge she had been. Several of the +children were at school, and that wonderfully elastic salary of Mary's +had done miraculous things in the way of bringing comfort and even +refinement to Walter Gray's home. + +"Well," said Lady Anne, turning round, and touching Walter Gray's arm, +"I have not made too bad a fairy godmother, have I, now?" + +"She would never have grown so tall," Walter Gray said, with absent +eyes. He had yielded up Mary for her good, but he had never ceased to +miss her. + +One person who sat among the most distinguished group in the Hall looked +at Mary with a lively interest. + +"What a charming girl!" she said to her host, a very great person. + +"I believe she has been adopted as a sort of companion by old Lady Anne +Hamilton, who is a cousin of my wife's," he responded. "The girl has +been educated at her expense. Yes, it's a pretty thing. I only hope it +won't become a blue-stocking." + +"I must positively know her," said the lady. "She interests me." + +"You make me jealous," returned the great person, with playful +gallantry. + +Lady Agatha had been a peeress in her own right since she had attained +the tender age of two years. Her father and mother had died too early +for her to miss them, and she had shown from her childhood a capacity to +think for herself, which nurses and governesses and all such persons +looked on as absolutely shocking. She had had a guardian, a soft, +woolly, comfortable gentleman whose will she had brushed aside and +replaced by her own from the time she was eight years old. Legally, she +was not of age till twenty-one; in reality, she was of age at fifteen or +thereabouts. She consulted Colonel St. John, her guardian, about her +affairs, as an act of grace, because she was so fond of him and wouldn't +hurt his feelings for anything; but she made no secret of the fact that +at twenty-one she was going to be absolutely her own mistress. + +"You are your own mistress now," Colonel St. John said once, a little +ruefully. "You never do what I wish--you make me do what _you_ wish. +Don't go too fast, Agatha, my dear. At twenty-one one is not wiser than +old people, though one may feel so." + +But he knew that he was talking to empty air. She was so eager to lay +hold on life. And she was equipped for it--there was no doubt of that. +Mr. Grainger, of Grainger, Ellison and Wells, who had had charge of the +business of the estate from time immemorial, whose trade it was to be +cautious, was cheerful over the Colonel's misgivings. + +"You wouldn't feel anxious if she was a lad," he said. "I'd set her +against nine hundred and ninety lads out of a thousand for sound +common-sense. She won't do anything foolish. Take my word for it, she +won't do anything foolish." + +She did not do anything foolish. She took her own way about some things +against Colonel St. John, and even against Mr. Grainger, but she turned +out to be right in the end. She had a good many people dependent in one +way or another upon her for their well-being, and she insisted on coming +face to face with these--on dealing with them without an intermediary. +And she made no mistakes. She could see through shifty dishonesty as +well as if she had had three times her years and a wide knowledge of the +seamy side of human nature. She had always been an outdoor girl, and now +she displayed a knowledgeable interest in her own Home Farm and in the +affairs of her tenants. + +She used to say that the days were not long enough for all she had to +do. Certainly, she contrived to cram into them three times as much +pleasure, business, and philanthropy as her neighbours. + +She had an idea of the obligations of her position as lady of the soil +which made poor Colonel St. John gasp when she talked about it. There +was so much to be done for the people--churches to be built, or chapels, +if they preferred them, and school-houses, industries to be fostered--so +much encouragement to be given to honest endeavour. Her idea was that +the land should afford all the people wished for. She was going to stop +the terrible drifting of the people into the towns. Their lives were to +be made gayer. There should be entertainments. The farmers' wives and +daughters were to make butter and cheese like their forbears, to grow +fruit and vegetables, to rear poultry and sell eggs; but they were not, +therefore, to lead a life of narrow toil. They were to be rewarded for +their skill and industry. The fruit of their labours was to make life +sweeter and pleasanter for them. There were to be libraries and +reading-rooms, debating clubs, social gatherings. + +"Stuff and nonsense!" Colonel St. John said, with his cotton-wool +eyebrows puffed out. "She'll dip the estate, and then she'll be coming +to ask us to pull her out. Worse, she'll only make them discontented." + +"She'll come out all right," Mr. Grainger said, rubbing his hands softly +together. "If she blunders, she'll learn wisdom from the experiment. +You'll see she'll come out all right, Colonel. The only thing that +troubles me is that she may have no time to get married. We don't want +her to be a spinster, hey? I confess I should like to see the succession +assured." + +It was this notable young lady who came in not so long after to Queen's +College, where a distinguished woman of letters was giving a series of +lectures on "The Poetry of the Sixteenth Century." Her entrance created +somewhat of a flutter. She was as tall as Mary Gray, but much more +opulently built. She had short, curling, dark hair, irregular features, +and violet eyes--not a bit handsome, but big and bonny and lovesome. Her +dress fluttered even these students. It was of purple velvet, with a +great stole of sables, and her sable muff had a big bunch of real +violets, which brought an odour of the quickening and burgeoning earth. + +She sat by the Lady Principal, and afterwards had tea with the students. +She asked especially for an introduction to Mary Gray, and then she +insisted on driving her as far as the Mall in her motor-car, which she +drove herself, while the chauffeur sat with folded arms behind. On the +way she talked poetry and politics with the same fervour she brought to +all her pursuits. + +"It has been borne in on me," she said vehemently, "that in working +among my own people as I have been doing I have been only tinkering at +things, just tinkering. One has to go to the root of the matter, to +abolish unjust laws, to replace them by good ones. Supposing I made my +estate, as I hope to make it, a Utopia, still there would be hundreds of +estates where the people would be in misery. It ought not to be left to +our good will to do things. We should be compelled to do them." + +Mary watched the flashing eyes with the greatest admiration. She felt +that Lady Agatha was a glorious creature, for whom she could do +anything. The hero-worship which is latent in the heart of all young +people worth their salt sprang into sudden life. Lady Agatha glanced at +her, noticed her expression, and smiled a rich, sweet, gratified smile. +She had made a disciple. To make a disciple was very pleasant to one of +her temperament. Like most women, she was a thorough propagandist. + +As she swept up to the gate of Lady Anne's house, the old lady herself +was standing just within it. She had come in from driving her little +pony phaeton, which she liked to drive herself. She had a little wild, +bright-eyed mountain pony, which would eat sugar and apples from her +hands, and was as much of a pet as a dog. + +"Well, Mary," she said, "introduce me. How do you do, Lady Agatha? I +know you by sight already. Won't you come inside and have some tea? I'm +very glad my Chloe didn't meet that uncanny monster of yours. I have +something to do to get her past the trams, I can tell you, much less the +motorcars." + +"You shouldn't go out alone," Mary said, with tender concern. "Her +little pony is very wild, Lady Agatha, and she won't take the carriage, +unless she goes visiting." + +"You want to make me out an old woman," Lady Anne said, "and I shall +never be that. Come along in, Lady Agatha. I've been hearing about you. +What do you mean by making my tenants discontented? They're very well as +they are. We shall have to form a league against you, we indolent ones." + +Her Ladyship had a way of winning her welcome wherever she went. Lady +Anne had begun, like a good many other people, with a certain distrust +of the brilliant young woman who desired to conquer so many kingdoms. In +the end she yielded unreservedly. + +"A fine, big-hearted, generous creature," she said. "It makes me young +to look at her and hear her talk. And so she has taken a huge fancy to +my Mary. Very well, then, she can come and go; but she's not to have my +Mary for all that, for I want her for myself." + +"No one really wants me," said Mary, with suddenly dimmed eyes, "except +you and papa. But if they did they couldn't have me. I belong to you and +papa." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE RACE WITH DEATH + + +It might have been considered great promotion for the daughter of Walter +Gray, who attended all day to the ailments of watches with a magnifying +glass stuck in his eye, to be the friend of Lady Agatha Chenevix as well +as the adopted child almost of Lady Anne Hamilton. Indeed, in the early +days, when Lady Agatha's friendship for Mary brought her into the finest +society the country provided, Lady Anne sometimes watched Mary narrowly, +to see how she was taking it. The result of these observations must have +been quite satisfactory to the old lady, judging by the energetic +shaking of her head after one or two of these occasions when she was +alone and thought over things. Once she spoke her thoughts to Lady +Agatha, to whom, indeed, she found herself often talking in a way that +surprised herself. There was something about the minx that forced even a +suspicious and reticent old lady into trust and confidence, and as her +trust and confidence increased so did her affection for the brilliant +young peeress. + +"People said I was mad," she remarked, "when I took Mary Gray into my +house, and into my heart. Matilda Drummond even said--and I have never +forgotten it to her--that if she was my nephew, Jarvis, she'd have my +condition of mind inquired into. Yet see how it has turned out! Is she +spoilt? Is she an upstart? Is she set above her family? She's over there +this minute with that poor little drab stepmother of hers. She worships +her father. The joys and sorrows of the poor little household are as +much to her to-day as the day she left them." + +"I know," said Lady Agatha. "She's pure gold. I saw it in her face the +first day I laid eyes on her. The only quarrel I have with her is that +so many people push me out with her. I don't mean you, of course, Lady +Anne. But yesterday I could not have her because she must go to your +doctor's wife, and to-day she was going for a long walk with that little +Miss Baynes. To-morrow it will be her father. It is his free afternoon." + +"I heard an amusing thing about the father the other day," said Lady +Anne. "Of course, Mary knows nothing about it. I called at +Gordon's--that is where Mr. Gray is employed--about a new catch for my +amethyst bracelet. I have known Mr. Gordon for years. He is a thoroughly +respectable man. It seems there is a very ill-conditioned person who +works in the same room as Mr. Gray--a good workman, but most +ill-conditioned. When he is especially bad-tempered he vents his anger +on his quiet room-fellow, who never seems to hear him but works away as +though he were a thousand miles distant from the grumbling and scolding. +Well, it seems that the other day, despairing, perhaps, of rousing Mr. +Gray by any other methods, he made a reference to Mary as having got +into fine society and looking down on her father. It's a little place, +after all, my dear, and you and your motor-car are known as well as the +Town Hall. Mr. Gray got up very quietly and threw the man downstairs; +then went back to his work without a word. Gordon saw it in quite the +right way. He said that the person thoroughly well deserved it, but that +the next time he mightn't get off with a few bruises, and that would be +awkward for Mr. Gray. So he has given him another room." + +"Ah, bravo!" Lady Agatha clapped her hands together. "That's where Mary +gets it. I've seen the light of battle in her eye--haven't you?" + +"Sometimes--when she has heard of cruelty and injustice." + +Now that Mary's schooling was over, she was to see the world under Lady +Anne's auspices. They were to go abroad soon after Christmas, to be in +Rome for Easter, to dawdle about the Continent where they would and for +as long as they would. Everything was planned and mapped out. Mary had +her neat travelling-dress of grey cloth, tailor-made, her close-fitting +toque, her veil and gloves, all her equipment, lying ready to put on. +Her old friend, Simmons, had packed her travelling trunk. It had come to +almost the last day. + +And, to be sure, Mary must be much with her father and the others during +those last hours. She had gone with her father for a long country walk. + +"I wish you were coming, too," said Mary, clinging closely to his arm. + +"You will be bringing me back fine stories," her father said, patting +her hand. "I shall be seeing the world through your eyes, child." + +"I shall write to you every day." + +"I shan't expect that, Mary. You will be moving from place to place. I +know you will write when you can, and I am always sure of your love." + +While they talked Lady Anne was receiving Dr. Carruthers professionally. +She had had symptoms, weaknesses, pangs, of which she had told nobody. + +"I was inclined to go without telling you anything about it, doctor," +she said. "I was as keen upon it as the child. I am more disappointed +than she will be. I have been wilful all my life, but I am glad I did +not take my own way this time. It would have been a nice thing for poor +Mary if I had been taken ill in some of those foreign places." + +"You will be much better in your own comfortable home." + +Dr. Carruthers spoke cheerfully, but he could not keep the anxiety out +of his face. + +"You must have suffered a deal lately," he said pityingly. He had not +forgotten what Lady Anne had done for him and his Mildred. She had been +their faithful and kind friend from that propitious day when he had +picked Mary Gray from under the feet of the tram-horses. His position +was now an assured one, and he and his wife had a tender affection for +their benefactress. + +"I'm an obstinate old woman," said Lady Anne, with very bright eyes. The +doctor's visit had been an ordeal to her. "I have had the pain off and +on for the last few months, but I assured myself that it was merely +indigestion, which mimics so many things. I am glad my common-sense came +to the rescue at last. Do you think I shall go off suddenly, or shall I +have to lie, panting, like those poor creatures I've seen at the +hospital, labouring for breath? I shouldn't like that." + +The doctor shook his head. How was he to know when the worn-out heart +would cease to perform its functions, and after what manner? + +"We must hope that you will not suffer," he said gently. "I will do my +best to save you that." + +"And I've plenty of spirit for whatever the good God sends," Lady Anne +said, her face lighting up. "I've always had great spirit. They said I +pulled through my childish illnesses twice as well because of my spirit. +I remember my dear mother telling me that when I had croup at two years +old I mimicked the cows and sheep and cats and dogs between the +paroxysms. I was just the same later on. I ought to have married a +soldier. My poor husband was a man of peace. He couldn't bear a loud +voice. Have a glass of wine before you go, doctor. I've just had a +bottle of Comet port opened. Try it. There's very little like it left in +the world." + +After Dr. Carruthers had taken his departure she went to her desk and +set about writing a letter. But she paused after she had written a few +lines, looked at the clock, and sat for a minute thinking. + +"No," she said aloud. "I won't wait till to-morrow. Mary shan't take the +chances. Who knows if I shall be here to-morrow? If I drive out to +Marleigh I shall just catch Buckton. He will be pottering round that +orchid-house of his. He will just be home from the office. He can make +me a new will there as well as here. Indeed, I ought not to have +postponed it for so long." + +She ordered her little pony phaeton. It was nearly five o'clock. There +would be plenty of time to drive to Marleigh Abbey, where her lawyer +lived, to interview him, and get back again before it was dark. She +would make Mary's interests safe. She had come to care for the child +more than she had ever expected to care. She was going to make a +provision for her, so that she should be secure against the chances and +changes of this life. Nothing very startling, nothing that need make +Jarvis grumble to any great extent; just a modest provision which would +not keep Mary from making use of the talents with which God had endowed +her and the education her fairy godmother had given her. + +It was not long before she had left the town behind, and was driving +along the winding road that ran by the foot of the mountains. The road +was very lonely. + +Chloe was rather nervous, not to say hysterical, on this particular +afternoon. Her mistress had not considered her as was her wont. She had +taken the shortest road, forcing her to meet a black monster of a +steam-tram which she had sometimes seen at a distance, a thing which was +her special abomination. Chloe had made a bolt for it, and had passed +the tram safely and got away on to the back road. She had been +accustomed, when she had made her small runaways before, to be petted +and soothed afterwards. Indeed, as soon as her terror had calmed a +little, and she was on the road she knew to be harmless, she slackened +down, expecting to hear her mistress's voice of tender scolding, to have +her mistress alight and stroke her with soft words. Instead of that she +was touched up pretty sharply. + +"Get me there, my girl," said Lady Anne. "Get me there quickly. You can +take your time going home, and we'll go the lower road. I feel as though +Death and I were running a race. I could never forgive myself if I died +before I'd provided for Mary." + +The pony gave her head a shake as though in answer to her mistress's +words, pricked up her ears and set off at a sharp canter. + +Suddenly something happened. Lady Anne had at first no realisation of +what it was. Jennings, the coachman, said afterwards that it must have +been the work of one of the mischievous lads whom he had driven with his +whip from staring in at his stable door. What happened was that the +pony's bridle, which had been snipped with a knife, had come apart, +fallen about her neck and then under her feet. She was off like the +wind. + +As for poor Lady Anne, suddenly rendered helpless, she caught at the +side of the little carriage, which was being dragged violently at the +pony's heels. She had need of all her spirit. Fortunately, the road was +a straight one, but there was not a soul in sight to help her, not a +sower in the fields, not a ploughman, not even a boy herding cattle +along the road. Her right hand still grasped the useless rein. She +stared before her, while the rocking of the little carriage grew more +and more violent, and the hedges and trees flew past them. How long +would it be before the terrified pony shook herself free of the carriage +altogether, or upset it on one of those mud-banks? + +The old spirit kept wonderfully calm and collected. There was just one +chance--that Chloe might keep the middle of the road, and presently pull +up of herself, being exhausted. If only the phaeton would not rock so +much. It was swaying from side to side at a terrific rate. The few +seconds of the runaway seemed æons of time to Lady Anne. She was holding +on now to both sides of the carriage, but her arm was through the reins. +Thank Heaven, the road seemed absolutely open and Chloe must exhaust +herself soon. + +Then--her eyes were distended in her face. They had swung round a little +incline, with a miraculous escape of running on a heap of shingle +intended for mending the roads. Just ahead of them were the lodge gates +and lodge of a big house. The gates were open. Out through them there +toddled a small child about three years old. The child set out to cross +the road. His attention was arrested by the noise of the runaway. He +stood in the middle of the road staring. + +Lady Anne uttered a loud, sharp cry. The child moved a few steps, fell, +and lay directly in the path of Chloe's feet. A woman ran out of the +lodge, screaming "Patsy, Patsy; where are you, Patsy?" Then she began to +wring her hands and call on all the saints. + +The pony, however, had of herself come to a standstill. The child was +under her feet, between her four little hoofs. She was shaking and +sweating and looking down. As for the child, after a second or so he +broke into a lusty roar. He was only frightened, not hurt, but it took a +little time for the mother to find that out by reason of the mud on his +face and the noise he was making. When she had reassured herself, she +carried him inside and closed the door of the lodge upon him. Then she +returned to the pony-carriage. + +Chloe was still standing there, in a piteous state of terror. Someone +was coming along the road--a policeman. Someone else was running from +the opposite direction. + +As for Lady Anne, the little figure had fallen forward. Her forehead was +down on the reins. Her eyes were wide open, and had a mortal terror in +their gaze. She would never set things right for Mary in this world. She +and Death had run a race together, and she had been beaten. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +DISPOSSESSED + + +Lady Anne's nephew and heir, Lord Iniscrone, showed no friendly face to +Mary. He came as soon as possible, and took possession of the premises. +Lady Iniscrone was with him. She was a lady with a wide, flat, doughy +face. Her eyes were little and pale and cold. Mary thought afterwards +that if it had not been for Lady Iniscrone, Lord Iniscrone might have +been kinder. She remembered that Lady Anne had detested Lady Iniscrone +to the extent that she would never have her inside the house. She had an +idea, which she could not put away, while she hated it, that Lady +Iniscrone remembered that fact. She took possession of everything +thoroughly, as though she revenged herself on the dead woman. In her +cold speech she disparaged the things Lady Anne had held dear. + +Their attitude towards Mary was as though she were a servant no longer +necessary. She was not to eat at their table; she was to eat in her own +room or in the servants' hall. + +"Is it Miss Gray, my lady?" Saunders, the elderly parlourmaid, asked, +aghast. "Her Ladyship thought the world of Miss Gray. She might have +been her own child. And I will say, though we didn't hold with it at +first, yet----" + +Lady Iniscrone closed the discussion haughtily. + +"Miss Gray will have her meals in the servants' hall, or in her own room +if she prefers it, till after the funeral. We shall make other +arrangements then, of course." + +Saunders flounced out of the room. Although she was elderly and had +lived in Lady Anne Hamilton's house since she was fourteen, when she had +come as a between-maid, she had not forgotten how to flounce. + +"Mark my words," she said in the kitchen, "she'll make a clean sweep of +us, same as Miss Mary, as soon as ever the funeral is over. Supposing as +how _we_ gives the notice!" + +And they did, to Lady Iniscrone's discomfiture, for she had intended to +stay on at the Mall and to keep the staff as it stood till she had +supplied its place. However, she showed her dismay only by her bad +temper. + +"I suppose you've all pretty well feathered your nests," she said +acridly, "and can afford to retire." + +Nor was her bitterness lessened by the fact that Lady Anne had left +handsome legacies to each of the servants, annuities to the elder ones, +sums of money to the younger. But the will, dated some years back, made +no mention at all of Mary Gray. + +"It seems clear to me," said Mr. Buckton, talking the matter over with +Lord Iniscrone, her Ladyship being present, "that Lady Anne intended to +make some provision for her _protégée_. In fact, the letter which she +had begun writing to me, which was found in her blotter after her death, +plainly indicates that. She was, apparently, on her way to my house when +the lamentable accident happened. Dr. Carruthers had seen her that +afternoon, and had told her that her heart was in a bad way. I believe +she grew alarmed about the unprovided state in which she would leave +Miss Gray if she had a sudden seizure, and hurried off to me. In the +circumstances----" + +"Of course, we could not think of doing anything more for Miss Gray," +Lady Iniscrone put in, anticipating her lord. "She has already been +dealt with very handsomely out of the estate. She has had a most +unsuitable education for a person in her rank of life. She has lived +like a lady; been clothed like one. When I saw her she was wearing +ornaments--a brooch of amethysts, with pearls around it, I remember, +which, I am sure, ought to belong to the estate. I can't see that Lord +Iniscrone is called upon to do anything more for the young person. What +with those absurd legacies to the servants and the way Lady Anne +lived--a big house and a staff of servants and carriages and horses for +one old lady!--the estate has been impoverished." + +"Lady Anne had a great sense of her own dignity," the lawyer put in. +"And this house had been her home for more than fifty years." + +"Everything needs replacing," Lady Iniscrone grumbled, with a +disparaging look around. "Those curtains and carpets----" + +"Your Lordship will, I am sure, feel that, in making some little +provision for Miss Gray, you will be doing what Lady Anne wished and +intended to do," Mr. Buckton said earnestly, turning from the lady to +her husband. + +Lord Iniscrone's eyes fluttered nervously. He was not a bad little man +at heart, but he was entirely ruled by his wife. + +"I don't think the estate will bear it, Mr. Buckton," he said in a +peevish voice. "It is heavily burdened as it is. If a five-pound note +would be of any use----" + +"I can't see that we are called upon to do anything, Jarvis," his wife +put in again. "In fact, Mr. Buckton, you may take it that we do not +intend to do anything more for Miss Gray." + +"Very well, Lady Iniscrone." + +Mr. Buckton turned away and busied himself with his papers. He could not +trust himself at the moment to speak lest he should forget his +professional discretion. + +But Mary had not waited for the result of his intercession on her +behalf, of which, indeed, she knew nothing. Mary, who was sensitive to +every breath of praise and blame, had fled out of the dear house, the +atmosphere of which had become suddenly unfriendly. A good many friends +would have been glad to have had her. Lady Agatha Chenevix was away, +else she would have been by her friend's side to take her part with +passionate generosity and indignation. She was away, but Jessie Baynes's +little house on the edge of the sea, a bare little homely place, full of +sunlight and the sea-wind, had its doors open to her. One could not +imagine a better place for a sad and sorrowful heart than Jessie's +little spare room, with its balcony opening like the deck of a ship on +to the blue floor of the sea. Mildred Carruthers had come at once, in +the first hour of the girl's grief, to carry her off to the big house, +which was now amply justified by the size of the doctor's practice. + +Only, where would Mary go to but home? In all those years in the great +house on the Mall she had never come to find Wistaria Terrace too little +and lowly for her. Indeed, there was a wonderful wholesomeness and +sweetness to her mind about the little house. The transfiguring mists of +her love lay rosily over even the drudgery of her childish days. To be +sure, there had been hard work and short commons. She had been +insufficiently clad in winter, too heavily clad in summer. Her people +had gone without fires and many other things which some would have +considered essential. But there had always been love. Looking back on +those days, Mary saw with the eyes of the spirit which miss out +immaterial material things. + +She fled back home. She took nothing with her but what she stood up in. +Only her friend, Simmons, while Lady Iniscrone was absent from the +house, packed up all Mary's belongings, and conveyed them, with the +assistance of the coachman, across the lane to Wistaria Terrace. The +servants had made up their minds that Mary was not coming back. + +Lady Iniscrone had hoped, in conversation with Lord Iniscrone, that Mary +would not give them any trouble. Never was anyone less inclined to give +trouble than Mary. Not for worlds would she have gone back to the house +where the new cold rule was, to meet Lady Iniscrone's unfriendly eyes. +Only while the body of her benefactress was yet above ground she had +stolen across at quiet hours, in the absence of the enemy, to look for +the last time on the quiet face. She had carried away little Fifine. +Fifine was seventeen years old now, and shook incessantly and moaned in +a lost way in her darkness. But she knew Mary's voice. Mary was the one +that could comfort her. At Wistaria Terrace they went to the unheard-of +extravagance of having a fire in Mary's room, day after day, so that +Fifine might lie before it in a basket, and feel the warmth in her +little bones, and hear Mary's voice. + +The day of the funeral came. Mary stood by the graveside quietly, with a +veil down over her face. Walter Gray was by her side. She had come in +the doctor's carriage, and she had no leisure or thought for the +insolence with which Lady Iniscrone stared at her, as though her +presence there required explanation. + +She was going to work, to begin at once. Her dear, kind old friend, who +had meant to do so well by her, had at least equipped her for earning +her own bread. The Lady Principal of Queen's College had found her +work--temporary work, to be sure, but something to go on with till she +could look about her. The Lady Principal and Dr. Carruthers were against +her making any definite plans till Lady Agatha Chenevix should +return--she was in America, arranging for a display of her industries at +a forthcoming exhibition. They had an idea that Lady Agatha would expect +to be consulted in any plan that affected her friend's future. + +Returning home after the funeral Mary found that all her attention would +be required for a short time for Fifine. The little dog had had a fit or +something of the kind, and had rallied wonderfully, considering her +great age. She had missed her one friend during that hour of absence. +Dr. Carruthers came in and looked at the dog, stooping to examine it +with as much tender care as though it had been human and a paying +patient. "Keep her warm," he said. "There isn't much else possible. +There is nothing the matter, only old age. She seems to know you, Mary. +She is positively wagging her tail." + +"She is miserable without me," Mary said, wondering what she was to do +about Fifine when she took up that temporary work which the Lady +Principal of Queen's College had found for her. Meanwhile she devoted +herself to the little creature. But about three days after Lady Anne's +funeral Fifine solved all difficulties concerning her by dying quietly +in the night. + +Mary slipped in stealthily to the garden of the old house when the new +owners were not likely to be about, and placed the little rigid body in +the grave Jennings had dug for it, lined with a few flowers that had +come up in the beds, snowdrops and wallflowers and little pale mauve +double primroses. She wept a few bitter tears above the grave. The death +of the little dog was like her last link with her dear old friend. The +day had the bright, clear, strong sunshine of March. There were yet +drifts of snow in the valleys among the hills, but spring was coming, +and the bare boughs would soon be thick with the buds of leafage. She +took one look at the sunny, green place and the old house which had +harboured her so kindly. Then she went away with a drooping head. + +That very afternoon Lady Agatha came. She rushed in on Mary like the +March wind, big and beautiful, in her long cloak of orange-tawny velvet, +breathing fire and fury over the unkindness to Mary. She had interviewed +Lady Iniscrone, and had gathered from her what had been happening. + +"In one way I am selfishly glad, Mary, because you will belong so much +more to me. I am going to take possession of you. For the first time for +many years Chenevix House is to be opened this season. I am going to be +among the political hostesses. I shall do all sorts of things. I have +found a dear old lady to live with us, my father's twenty-second cousin, +Mrs. Morres. She will make it possible for me to do the things I want +without running tilt against all the windmills of prejudice. I shall +respect your mourning. You will have your own room to which you can +retire. Chenevix House looks over a quiet, green square. You shall see +the spring come even there. Afterwards, when the season is at an end, we +shall bury ourselves in the green country." + +She paused for breath, and Mary smiled at her. She was so big and bonny +and generous it was impossible not to smile at her. + +"Where do I come in?" she asked. "I want to earn my bread." + +"And so you shall. You shall earn it hard. You are to be my secretary, +Mary. I am going to be a leading Radical lady. They want hostesses. +There are things a woman can do for a cause much better than a man. I +consider my wealth, at least, my comparative wealth, my rank and youth +and energy and brains, and my splendid health, as so many weapons given +to me by God so that I may help the right." + +"You forget your charm," Mary reminded her. "It is the most potent of +all." + +Lady Agatha suddenly blushed. It was the first time Mary had seen her +blush. + +"Charm--oh, come, Mary! Why not beauty if you are inclined to flatter?" + +"Yes, indeed; why not beauty?" Mary repeated, looking at her with loving +eyes of admiration. + +"A big, black, bounding beggar!" Lady Agatha quoted against herself +merrily. + +But Mary was not inclined to make any further excursions from home. The +soul in her was chilled by her recent experiences. In her hurt and +unhappy state the little house at Wistaria Terrace seemed most +desirable. It gave her satisfaction to note the discomforting things +about her--the bare floor, the windows that shook and rattled, the +ill-fitting doors, the ugliness of the painted dressing-table from which +the paint had long departed, the chipped jug and basin that did not +match each other. She liked it all, even the carelessness about meals, +for there was love with it. Her younger sisters growing up had a kind of +worship for Mary. They served her out of pure love. She was not allowed +to do anything for herself. Yes, for the present, at least, home was +best. She could go out and earn money and bring it home to them. She +would stay henceforth in the world into which she had been born. She +would make no more excursions. + +However, these thoughts of hers were rendered vain by the fact that +Walter Gray positively took Lady Agatha's part against her. There was no +room for Mary in the cramped life of Wistaria Terrace. She had brains +and beauty and sympathy. The opportunity to make use of these gifts was +given her. She must not reject it. + +The thing was put on a business basis. Mary was to be Lady Agatha's +secretary, with a handsome salary. "I shall work you till you cry out," +her Ladyship promised, and it seemed like enough to be true. She was +talking already of writing a novel when they should retire to the +country. Her energy overflowed. She was perpetually seeking new outlets +for it. Her secretary was not likely to enjoy a sinecure. + +"No one but you could have sent me from you again," Mary said to her +father, in tender reproach. + +"It is for your good, Moll. You have outgrown Wistaria Terrace. We could +not long have contented you." + +But Mary shook her head. She thought she would have been very well +content at home. She could have got plenty of teaching to do. She +thought of the little house as of a resting place from which she was to +be debarred. But she would not dispute her father's will for her. He +rallied her, saying that if they kept her her head and shoulders would +presently be pushing themselves above the slates. + +"It was big enough for you," she said indignantly, "and your mind rises +to greater heights than mine ever will. You cramped yourself into it, if +it were a question of cramping. Why should not I?" + +"Sometimes it was not big enough, Moll," he answered. "Sometimes it was +sore cramping, and at other times it was big enough to contain the +heaven and all the stars. Perhaps the ambition I flung away for myself I +keep for you. I would not have you at microscopic work all your days." + +So it was settled. For a little while longer Mary stayed on at home. +Then, when the leaves were just opening out in pale green silk, and all +the world was fragrant and full of the joy of birds, she went, +unwillingly, and turning back many times to make her sorrowful +farewells. + +"I don't want you to stay till you begin to feel cramped," Walter Gray +had said. "I had rather you went away with your illusions." + +She did carry away her illusions. It was a happy and blessed thing for +her that she could make illusions about common things all the days she +was to live. Yet somewhere, in her hidden heart, she knew her father was +right. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE LION + + +Mary was established, high up in Chenevix House. She was amazed at the +spaciousness of the rooms, the feeling in them as though the streets +were far away. The square was a wonder of waving and tossing green, +across which Mary looked from her window and saw other stately old +houses like the one she was in. At first she was never tired of admiring +the miracle of spring in London. She realised that no country greenness +is equal to the glory of the new leaf against the dingy house-fronts, +the green freshness about the black stems and boughs and branches. + +Lady Agatha was in a perpetual whirl of affairs and gaiety. All her +days, and her nights into the small hours, seemed to be filled. At this +time Mary had a great deal of her time to herself. In the morning she +wrote her Ladyship's letters, and selected from the newspapers such +things as her Ladyship ought to read. By-and-by she would be much +busier. She was taking lessons in short-hand and type-writing in the +afternoons. Her Ladyship would come in only in time to dress for dinner. +She had been driving in the park, she had been calling, she had been at +a concert, or a matinée, or an "At Home." She had been attending this or +that meeting. She was never in bed before the summer dawn, yet she would +be at the breakfast-table as fresh as a milkmaid, smiling at Mary and +telling her this and that bit of news or event of the time since they +had met. + +Mrs. Morres, who had to accompany her to many places, slept every hour +of the day she could. She confessed to Mary in her dry way, that did not +ask for pity, that she found her Ladyship's energy superhuman. Sometimes +there was an interesting debate in the House of Commons, and Lady Agatha +must drop in after dinner to sit for an hour behind the gilded grille. +Afterwards she would go on to a political reception. Later to a ball, +where she would dance as though there had been nothing in all the long +day to tire her. + +Once or twice she had a quiet dinner-party, to which Mary came down in +her frock of filmy black, which made a delightful setting for her fair +paleness. At these dinners she encountered famous men and women, and +looked at them from afar off with wistful interest. In the drawing-room +afterwards she saw Lady Agatha the centre of a brilliant group. Someone +said of her that she was likely to be the spoilt child of politics, +since she could be audacious with even the greatest, and move them to +speak when no one else could. The great men shook their heads at her and +smiled. They warned her that she went too fast for them, that +impulsiveness, charming as it was in a woman, was not to be permitted in +politics. "If you would but learn diplomacy, my dear lady!" Sir Michael +Auberon sighed. But diplomacy seemed likely to be the last thing Lady +Agatha Chenevix would learn. + +Mary used to sit under Mrs. Morres's wing, and listen, through her witty +and wise talk, to the utterances of the great. She felt very shy of +these companies of distinguished men and women. Lady Agatha made one or +two attempts to draw her closer. Then, perceiving that she was happier +in her corner, she let her be. + +In her corner Mary listened. She listened with all her ears. Her cheeks +would flush and her eyes shine as she listened. There was a younger +school of politicians which was well represented at Lady Agatha's +parties. Their theories had the generosity of youth. Sir Michael Auberon +would listen to them, nodding his head, his fine, beautiful old face lit +up with as great a generosity as warmed theirs. He was very fond of his +"boys." If he must show them what was impracticable in their views he +did it gently. He rallied them with tenderness. He had none of the +mockery which is so searing and blighting a thing to hot youth. + +One night Mary, looking down the dinner-table, saw a face she +remembered. The owner of the face--a tall, loosely-built, plain-looking +young man--glanced her way at the moment, and stared--stared and looked +away again with a baffled air. Mary knew him at once for the boy she had +met seven or eight years before at the Court. He had aged considerably. +Men like him have a way of falling into their manhood all at once. His +hair was even a little thin on top--with that and his lean, hatchet face +he might have been thirty-five. + +Afterwards in the drawing-room he was one of those who stood nearest to +Sir Michael. Some of the others laughed at him, calling him Don Quixote, +and she heard Sir Michael say that the young man's theories were those +of the Gironde. "The Revolution devours her own children," he said, with +his fine old ironic smile. "And a good many of us have to eat our own +professions before we're forty. The great thing would be if we could +keep our youthful generosity with the wisdom of our prime." + +Looking towards Mary, he caught the flame of enthusiasm in her eyes, and +again he smiled. But this time it was a smile without irony, rather an +understanding and, one might have said, a grateful smile. All the world +knew that Sir Michael's private sorrows were heavy ones, and that he +leant the more on the alleviations and consolations his public life +brought him. + +Afterwards he asked to be introduced to Mary and talked with her for a +little while, making her the envy of the room. + +"She has a clear mind as well as a sound heart," he said. "She is on +fire with the passion for humanity. Take her about with you"--this to +Lady Agatha. "Let her see how the people live--what serfs we have under +our free banner. There is fine material in her. She should do good +work." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Morres sat by Mary, doing crochet, with a quiet smile. +Her tongue dripped cold water on all the enthusiasms. + +"Believe me, my dear, they will do nothing," she said placidly in Mary's +ear. That placidity of hers gave her the air of being as relentless as a +Fate. "Parties are Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Let Sir Michael get into +office and he'll do nothing. Those fine young gentlemen over there will +be the office-holders of twenty years to come, the fat sinecurists and +pluralists. The people were better off when, like the lower animals, +they had no souls. They were protected by their betters. Now they are at +war with them and they are more soulless than before. Dear me, how much +fine talk I have heard that never came to anything!" + +She would go on till the company had departed, and Lady Agatha would +come to her side, laughing, and ask her what horrible feudal theories +she had been propounding. The two differed on every point but one, and +that was in the mere matter of loving each other. Lady Agatha delighted +in her cousin's conservatism; and always said she would not have it +otherwise if she could. It was a _sauce piquante_ to the dish of their +daily lives. + +"You shan't lead Mary astray," she would say with pretended indignation. +"If she knew the things Sir Michael has been saying about her!" + +"My dear Agatha, don't _you_ go leading her astray. Politics are no +_métier_ for a woman, or they should be subservient to something else. +Go marry, Agatha, and bring children into the world, and when you have +reared them you can set up a political salon and theorise about the +regeneration of humanity. Let Miss Gray do likewise. You play with these +things when you are young--later on you will find them dry bones." + +"Dear me!" Lady Agatha said, with admiration. "What a pity she isn't +with us, Mary! What a pity she is only a destructive critic! Don't +listen to her, child!" + +That first evening of their meeting Sir Robin Drummond had come to +Mary's side and turned the page of her music while she sang. She had a +fresh and sweet voice, although of no great range or compass, and she +could sing, without music, song after song of the old English masters, +of Arne and Purcell and Bishop, and their delightful school. + +"She brings strawberries and cream to town," said someone who was not +particularly imaginative. + +Mary was conscious of the young man's scrutiny as he turned her pages, +and it embarrassed her, but she made no sign. + +Afterwards she met Sir Robin many times. He was at this time the adopted +candidate for an East-End constituency, and was becoming well known as +an advanced politician. He went further than his party, indeed, and +somewhat offended even his particular _clientèle_ by the breadth of his +views. He and Lady Agatha were at this time engaged in the work of +organising labour, especially amongst the girls and women of the +worst-paid and most dangerous trades. It brought them often together +amid forlorn habitations and hopeless humanity. One of the difficulties +was the question of whether the alien women should be brought in. "They +will join the Union and they will go on underselling all the same," said +someone. But Sir Robin was of those who held that the alien should have +equal rights with her English sister, and that it was possible to teach +her to stand on her feet like one of the free-born. He was not chary of +his denunciations of certain methods among the Trade Unions and the +Trade Unionists, and therefore a crowd sometimes howled him down. But +there was always a minority at least to stand by him, and the minority +included the industrious and sober, the honest and thinking, among those +he desired to help. + +By-and-by he fell into a quiet friendliness with Mary Gray. He used to +take charge of the ladies when they went into the East End. Lady Agatha +used to say that he was a drag on the wheel, because he would not let +her do imprudent things, because he would veto it when a question of +their going into dangerous streets or houses or rooms, because he +insisted on their leaving by a side door a meeting which was becoming +turbulent, because he was always forbidding some extravagance or other +of her Ladyship's. + +"There is one thing about that young man," said Mrs. Morres, who was +chary of praise of her Ladyship's party: "he has excellent common-sense, +and I thank Heaven for it." + +"Ah, yes; he has excellent common-sense," Lady Agatha echoed, with a +ruefulness which made Mary laugh suddenly. + +"You ought to marry him, my dear," Mrs. Morres went on, looping another +stitch of the endless crochet. + +"Marry Bob Drummond!" Lady Agatha repeated. "Marry Bob Drummond! Why, it +is the last thing in the world I should dream of doing." + +One evening, just at the end of the season, someone brought the latest +lion to a small reception at Lady Agatha Chenevix's. He was a very +modest and retiring lion, a quiet, very bronzed young man, who wore his +arm in a sling. He had had his shoulder torn in an encounter with an +African leopard. He had fought almost hand to hand with the beast over +the body of a Kaffir servant, and had rescued the man at the cost of his +own life, it seemed at first, later on of his right arm. It was doubtful +whether the strength and vitality of it would ever be restored. + +He was not merely a brave man, however, this Mr. Jardine. He had gone to +the Gold Coast, and from there into Central Africa, inspired, in the +first place, by the desire of knowledge and love of adventure. But, amid +the thrilling adventures and hairbreadth escapes, there had grown up in +his heart the liveliest interest in and sympathy with the people he +found himself amongst. He discovered that they had an ancient +civilisation of their own. To be sure, what remained of it hung in +shreds and patches on some of them; but there were others, civilised +after a fashion, which was not the Western one. He discovered +traditions, folk-lore, ancient poetry, laws, a wealth of customs. +Understanding the people, he came to love them. They interested him +profoundly. He was going back to them as soon as he could. + +He stayed after the other guests, and was yet talking eagerly to his +hostess when the dressing-bell rang. + +"We dine alone," Lady Agatha said to the old friend who had brought Mr. +Jardine. "And I go nowhere afterwards: I am fagged out. How glad I am +that next week sees us at Hazels! If you and Mr. Jardine could dine, +Colonel Brind?" + +The old friend answered her wistful look. + +"Our lodgings are not far off; we have only to jump into a hansom; we +should be back before the dinner-bell rings. Only--this fellow has a +host of engagements." + +"Ah!" + +Lady Agatha had hardly sighed when Jardine woke up as if from a dream. + +"Have I engagements?" he asked. "I do not remember any. Anyhow, I am a +convalescent, and the privileges of convalescence are mine. I vote for +that hansom, Brind." + +After dinner they sat around the fire and talked. Although it was June, +it had been a sunless day of arid east wind, and Lady Agatha, who always +snatched at the least excuse for a fire because it was so beautiful, had +ordered one to be lit. The three long windows were open beyond the red +leather screen that made a cosy corner of the fireplace, and the scent +of flowers came in from the balcony. + +Paul Jardine talked as much as they desired him to talk. He started on +his hobby about those West African peoples, and rode it with spirit and +energy. His friend laughed at him. + +"Why, Jardine," he said, "I can never again call you the lion that will +not roar." + +"Am I horribly loquacious?" The hero smiled, but was not more silent. He +had great things to tell, and he told them well and modestly. Lady +Agatha sat with her cheek shaded by a peacock-feather fan. There was a +deep glow in her eyes. Glancing across at her from the opposite corner, +Mary thought it must be the reflection of the firelight. + +She came to Mary's room after the guests had departed, when Mary was +preparing for bed, and sat down in the chair by the open window. + +"What do you think of him, Mary?" she asked. + +"Of whom?" Mary said sleepily. They had met a good many people during +the day, so the question was a pardonable one. + +"Of whom! Why, of Mr. Jardine! Who else could it be?" + +She lifted her arms about her head, and the loose white sleeves of her +gown fell away from their roundness and softness. + +"What a man!" she said, with a long sigh. "What a man! That is life, if +you like. How tame the others seem beside him!" + +"He roared very gently," said Mary, "but it was very exciting." + +"Yes, wasn't it? That sail in the canoe down the river, with the jungle +on each side of them alive with wild beasts and venomous reptiles, to +say nothing of cannibals, and deadly sicknesses worse than any of those. +He said so little about the danger. One got an impression of the +extraordinary languorous beauty of the tropical vegetation; one smelt +it, that African night, with its enormous moon beyond the mists. There +was death on every side of him, in every breath he drew. He found what +he went for, the antidote to the bite of the death's-head spider. +Henceforth life in those latitudes will be robbed of one of its terrors. +What a man!" + +"It is a pity that we could not have heard him at the Royal Society," +Mary said, with a little yawn--they had been keeping late hours. "If it +had been a day or two earlier!" + +"But I am going," said Lady Agatha. "Why, Mary, it is only to alter our +arrangements by a day. Hazels--the dear place--will keep for a day +longer." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +HER LADYSHIP + + +At Hazels Mary found her duties more onerous than they had been in town. +It was delightful to see Lady Agatha among her own people. She had made +life easier for them. Mary marvelled at the prettiness of the red-brick +farmhouses, with roses and honeysuckle to their eaves. She could never +get over the feeling that it was only a picture. They would walk or +drive to them, and the farmer's wife would come out and beg her Ladyship +to come in for a glass of cowslip wine; and she and Mary would go in to +a rather dark parlour--to be sure, the windows were smothered in +jessamine and roses and honeysuckle--and sit down in chairs covered in +flowery chintz, and sip the fragrant wine and eat the home-made cake, +while the topics of interest between landlord and tenant were discussed. +Then the farmer would come in himself, hat in hand, and his eyes would +light up at the sight of the visitor, and there would be more pleasant +homely talk of cattle and crops, and the harvest and the plans for the +autumn sowing, and the state of fairs and markets. + +There was Nuthatch Village, which seemed to have stepped out of +Morland's pictures. It was all so pretty and peaceful, with its red +gabled cottages sending up their blue spirals of smoke into the +overhanging boughs of great trees. Mary cried out in delight at the +quaint dormers, with their diamond panes, at the wooden fronts, at the +gardens chockfull of the gayest and most old-fashioned flowers. + +"As for prettiness," said Lady Agatha, "it isn't a patch on Highercombe, +a mile away, and, what is more, I've done more than anyone else to spoil +its prettiness. I've filled in the pond and driven the swan and the +water-hen to other haunts. I've given them a new water-supply and done +away with the most picturesque pump, which was sunk in 1770 by Dame +Elizabeth Chenevix. I've put new grates and new floors into the houses, +and I've seen to it that all windows open and shut. The pity of it is +that I can't compel them to make use of their privilege of opening. +Also, I've introduced cowls on the chimneys. My friend, Lionel Armytage, +the painter, lifted his hands in horror at my doings. I'd have liked to +get at the chimneys, but I'd have had to pull down every cottage in the +place to rectify them. Oh, I've spoilt Nuthatch, there's not a doubt of +it. You must see Highercombe." + +"The children seem healthy," Mary said thoughtfully, "and the old people +walk straighter than one sees them often." + +"Ah, yes, that is it." Lady Agatha's face flushed and lit up. "I've made +it healthy for them. Highercombe is a painted lie--a pest-house, a +charnel-house, full of unwholesome miasmas from its pretty green, its +pond covered with water-lilies. Death lurks in that pond. There is bad +drainage and bad water; the damp oozes through the old brick floors of +the houses. The whole place is as deadly in its way as those West +African jungles of which Mr. Jardine told us." + +They were to see Mr. Jardine later. At present he was on a round of +visiting at the houses of the great. The names of the people who had +elected to do honour to Paul Jardine would have been a list of pretty +well the most illustrious persons in the kingdom. When Lady Agatha had +suggested to him that he might give a week to Hazels before the summer +was done, he had been eager about it, had even suggested dropping some +of his other engagements. But that she would not hear of. She seemed to +take an odd pride and pleasure in the way he had conquered the world +best worth conquering. + +"What!" she had said. "Drop Sir Richard Greville and Lord Overbury! Not +for worlds! You may find it dull. Sir Richard lives the life of a +hermit, and you won't get anything fit to eat at Lord Overbury's. He +never knows what he's eating, and his cook has long given up trying to +do credit to herself. I believe that only for his dining-out he'd be +starved. Even as it is, he's been known to take mustard with his soup +and red-currant jelly with his cheese. Still--he's Lord Overbury!" + +They led a very quiet life at Hazels, seeing hardly anyone. Lady Agatha +had declared that she was going to make up for her rackety life in town, +as well as to prepare for the winter. She had looked as fresh as a rose +through all the racketing, and when she talked about the need for rest +she had smiled. + +As a matter of fact, her energy was too overflowing to permit of her +resting as other folk rested. A change of occupation was about as much +as one could hope for. And now she was restless as she had not been +before, for, energetic as she had always been, she had never driven +others. Indeed, many people had found absolute restfulness in her +Ladyship's big, wholesome presence. + +"The life in town has only stimulated me, Mary," she confessed; "just +stimulated me and excited my brain. I must work it off somehow. Let us +begin at the novel to-morrow." + +They began at the novel. Lady Agatha dictated it, and Mary took it down +in short-hand. They worked out of doors. Mary had her seat under the +boughs of a splendid chestnut tree on a little green lawn. The lawn was +at the side of the house, not over-looked, enclosed on three sides by a +splendid yew hedge. The dogs would lie at Mary's feet. There were Roy +the St. Bernard, and Brian the bull-dog, a toy Pomeranian, and a little +Chow. The dogs always stayed at Hazels. "If I took them up to town," +Lady Agatha said, "they would see more of me, to be sure, but then they +would always be losing me, for, of course, I couldn't take them out in +town. And they always know I'll come back--they're so wise. The parting +is dreadful, but they know I'll come back." + +Mary sometimes wondered how her Ladyship had found time to think out her +novel. For it seemed all ready and prepared in her mind. She would sweep +up and down the grass while she dictated. Mary used to say that it meant +a ten-mile walk of a morning. The train of her white morning-dress +lopped the daisies in their places; the incessant passage of her feet +made a track in the grass. Sometimes she would pass out of her +secretary's hearing and have to be recalled by Mary's laughing voice of +remonstrance. + +"Am I afflicting you, Mary?" she asked on one of these occasions. "Am I +overwhelming you? It's a horrible flood, isn't it?" + +"You are very fluent," Mary answered, looking down at the queer little +dots and spirals on her paper. "I daresay we'll have to prune it before +it's printed. But it is a good fluency, a rich fluency. To me it is +irresistible--like a spring freshet, like the sap rushing madly through +all the veins of spring." + +"Ah, you feel it?--you feel it like that, Mary? I feel it so myself; I +riot in it." + +"It will have no sense of effort--it is vital. I hope we shall be able +to keep it up." + +"Why not, O Cassandra?" + +She stood with one hand on the back of Mary's chair, and looked up into +the tree. + +"The book should have been written in spring," she went on. "I feel the +spring in my blood. Why should I, Mary, now when it is full summer, and +the trees are dark?" + +"I don't know, unless that you were so busy in spring that you had not +time to enjoy it. Come, let us get on; perhaps presently you will flag. +We must get the book done before anyone comes to interrupt us." + +"Never was there such a willing co-worker. You mustn't overdo it, Mary. +How many words did I dictate to you yesterday?" + +"Six thousand." + +"And you gave them to me typewritten this morning." + +"I wanted to see how they looked in type. It is all right, Agatha. Even +you cannot go on for long, dictating six thousand words a day. We must +take the tide at the flow." + +"Afterwards I shall do a play--after I have given you a rest." + +"More kingdoms to conquer," Mary laughed. "There is only one person like +you--the Kaiser." + +"I have an immense admiration for him." + +Mrs. Morres meanwhile sat and smiled to herself. She had given up the +crochet for point-lace, which, as it had more intricate stitches, +necessitated the more care. Sometimes she knitted and read with a book +in her lap. But when she was not reading, she smiled quietly to herself. +It was a curious smile, half-satisfied as one whose prognostications +have come true, half-dissatisfied as though there was no great cause for +congratulation. + +Once Mary was curious enough to ask her why she smiled. Lady Agatha at +the piano was playing Wagner like a professional musician. Mrs. Morres's +smile grew more inscrutable. + +"It amuses me," she said, talking loudly, so that her words might reach +Mary through the storm of the music, "to find that Agatha is just a +woman, after all. It amuses me--and yet--it had been happier for you and +me if she had contented herself with the unrealities of life a little +longer." + +Mary did not understand at the moment. She began to understand a little +later when Mr. Jardine came. The novel, after all, had not been +finished. For the last week or so before the visitor arrived her +Ladyship had apparently lost interest in it. + +"My brain has dried up, Mary," she said. "I should only spoil it if I +went on. Put it away in a drawer, and when I feel like it we can go on +again. You want a rest. I've over-tired you." + +"I felt I couldn't rest till it was done," Mary said, with a little +sigh. "I wanted to know what became of them all. And it is such an +interesting point. Tell me, does Clotilde marry Mark, after all?" + +"How should I know? I have nothing to do with what she does. Clotilde +knows her own mind. I do not. Wait till we get back to it." + +"Ah! you should finish it--you should finish it. You'll never get that +young green world in it again. It was an inspiration. We should have +held on to it like Jacob to the angel's robe." + +But for the time Lady Agatha's literary energy was exhausted. + +"I daresay there's a deal of fustian in it. There's sure to be," she +said. "I don't think anything could be really good that was produced +with so little pain. I daresay I'll be for tearing it up, so you'd +better lock it away. Do you feel equal to walking ten miles? If not, get +your bicycle and I'll walk beside you. I've been cramped up too long." + +This time it was a mood of physical restlessness. She walked and rode +and went out golfing, and played tennis, and rowed on the river, and did +a thousand things, while Mrs. Morres made her delicate wheels and +trefoils, and smiled a more Sibylline smile than ever. + +At last he came. When the sound of his footstep and of his voice reached +them where they stood in the drawing-room awaiting him, her Ladyship +turned to Mary, and her face was full of an immense relief. + +"I didn't really believe he'd come," she said. "I've been feeling quite +sure that something would occur to prevent his coming." + +"The weeks have been endless," Paul Jardine said, coming in and taking +her Ladyship's two hands. "How could you put me off till September? I've +had a heavy time. I don't like being made much of by other folk, so I am +going out again after Christmas." + +Then, to be sure, Mary knew. The pair leaped to each other as though +they had been two halves of one whole separated long ago, and now drawn +together in a magnetic rush. Mary had always known that when Lady Agatha +attracted she attracted irresistibly; there was no half-way, no +haltings, no looking back possible. + +"We are out of it, Mary, we two," Mrs. Morres said, and the smile had +become a trifle weak and wavering. "What do you suppose is going to +become of us? Hazels is a pleasant place, and there has always been +something of assurance and comfort about Agatha. I had a hard life, my +dear, before I came here. Yet what would she do with us? She can't very +well take us out to Africa. I, at least, should not know what to do in +those places." + +It was a wooing that was not long a-doing. Her Ladyship and Mr. Jardine +came in one evening in time for afternoon tea. The days were closing in +by this time, and a fire was welcome. There had been rain, and the fire +sparkled on her Ladyship's black curls and her eyelashes as she stood by +the fire, taking off the long cloak in which she wrapped herself when +she went out walking in bad weather. Her eyes were at once bright and +shy. + +"Congratulate me," she said. "He has consented to take me with him. He +held out for a long time, but I was determined to go. As though I should +take the chances!" + +"It is I who am to be congratulated," said Paul Jardine, and the +happiness in his voice thrilled his listeners. "Of course, I wouldn't +have listened to her if she wasn't so splendidly strong. It will be an +odd place for a honeymoon. Do you think I ought not to have consented to +take her, Mrs. Morres?" + +"For how long?" + +Mrs. Morres's voice shook. All the Sibylline quality was gone from it +now. + +"For a year. I must fulfil my engagements. Afterwards I must do my best +for them over here. I never thought that I could do as I would as a +married man. Do you think I ought not to have consented?" + +"She would have gone without your consent." + +Lady Agatha came over and put a hand on her shoulder, a kind, caressing +hand. + +"You are quite right," she said. "Oh, he has wriggled, but it had to be. +It had to be, from the first minute we met." + +"I knew it." + +"You did, you wise woman. And you will keep house for me when I am gone? +You will take care of the dogs for me? You will oscillate between Hazels +and town? You will keep the places ready against our return? You are +never to leave us." + +Mrs. Morres's eyes overflowed. + +"My dear," she said, "it would have broken my heart to have left you. +And Mary--what is to become of Mary?" + +"I have a plan for Mary, unless she will stay here with you." + +"I must earn my bread," said Mary. + +"For all the bread you eat, I eat four times as much as you. Still, you +have talents to be used for the many, as Sir Michael Auberon said. I +have no right to keep you from them. You will talk to Robin Drummond +about that. He is starting a bureau for purposes of organisation amongst +the women. He has had his eye on you. I told him he could not have you. +Now, it will fill a gap, perhaps. I shall need you again." + +"The funny thing," said Mrs. Morres, and the amusement had come back in +her voice--"is that Colonel St. Leger won't like your marriage at all. +He has always wanted you to be married. But now--this African +marriage--he will talk about it as though you were marrying a man of +colour, Agatha, my dear. How his eyebrows will go out!" + +"To think," said Mary, with a little sigh, "that the novel is +unfinished, after all." + +"A novel is so much more interesting," said Lady Agatha, "when you live +it, Mary. Besides, it has troubled me that if I published the novel I +must come into competition with the legitimate workers. They should form +a Trades' Union against us, women of leisure and money, to keep us from +poaching on their preserves. They really should. My dears, I have a +presentiment that the novel never will be finished." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE HEART OF A FATHER + + +Oddly enough, seeing the General's feeling towards his sister-in-law, +seeing, too, that he and Nelly had hardly ever had a thought or taste +that was not in common, a certain affection grew up on Nelly's part for +Lady Drummond. An acute observer would have said that the affection had +something conscience-stricken about it. There were times when Nelly's +eyes asked pardon of the Dowager for some offence committed against her, +and this usually happened when the Dowager was making much of her, as of +a daughter-in-law who would be dearly welcome when the time came. +Something of the love Lady Drummond had borne for her husband had passed +on to his niece. She was immensely proud, in her secret heart, of the +deeds of the Drummonds. Despite her hectoring ways, she looked up to and +admired the General, although he had been too simple to discern the fact +and profit by it. Robin's divergence from his father's ways was, +secretly, an acute disappointment to her. When she caressed Nelly with a +warmth which none of her friends would have credited her with +possessing, there was compunction with the tenderness. The child ought +to have had the delight of marrying a soldier, a hero whom she could +adore, as she herself had adored her Gerald. When she pressed the golden +head to her angular bosom she was asking the girl's pardon for her son's +shortcomings. + +"I shall have heroic grandchildren," she said to herself. "Although +Robin is a throwback to the Quaker, the grandsons of Gerald and Denis +Drummond must be fighting men." + +She pondered long over those grandchildren, and derived a grim pleasure +from the thought of them. She even spoke of them to the General, when +Nelly was out of hearing. + +"It was a disappointment to both of us that Robin is a man of peace," +she said, acknowledging the fact for the first time. "Not but that he is +a good boy--a very good boy. The fighting strain will recur in the next +generation. We shall have soldiers among our grandchildren." + +"Grandchildren!" growled the General, turning very crimson in the face. +"I call it indelicate to discuss such subjects. As for Nelly's marrying, +why, she's only a child. I should feel very little obliged to the man +who would want to take her from me at her age." + +"Nelly is nineteen," the Dowager reminded him, "and the marriage can't +be delayed much longer. It ought to be a source of satisfaction to us +that the young people are so pleased with the arrangement. I know that +Robin has never thought of anyone but his cousin, and I am sure it is +just the same with the dear child." + +The General grew red again--not this time with anger, but rather as +though the Dowager's words had stirred some sense of guilt in his +breast. He muttered something grumpily, and, discovering that his +favourite pipe must have been left in his own den, he escaped from Lady +Drummond for a while. + +As a matter of fact, his mind had been plotting mischief. He did not +care so much that it was against the Dowager, if it had not been that +the memory of his dead brother came in to complicate things. And, after +all, his plotting seemed to have come to naught. He had gone so far as +to invite young Langrishe to dinner for a specific occasion, without +result. The young man had written to say that he had effected his +exchange into the --th Madras Light Infantry, and would be so very much +occupied up to the time of his departure that he feared dining out was +out of the question. + +The General had known he was going away. He had known it before he +received that letter, before he had seen it in the Gazette. He had known +from the day the regiment had gone by without Captain Langrishe in his +wonted place. He had felt with his arm about his girl's shoulders the +sudden shock that had passed through her. So she had not known either. +He had not prepared her. There was not an understanding between them. He +saluted as light-heartedly as ever to all appearance, but he did not +look at Nelly. Nor did he make any remark on the change in the regiment. + +After that day the passing of his "boys" ceased to be the old joy to +him. Something was gone out of the ceremonial. It took all his _esprit +de corps_ to pretend to himself as well as to others that he felt no +difference. He felt the limpness and dejection in Nelly. He saw that her +roses had faded, that she walked without the old joyous spring. He heard +her no longer talking to the dogs, trilling to the canary. It was +January now, and raw, cold weather. It seemed as though the sunshine had +vanished from the house for good. The General had been wont to say that +the cheerfulness of his house was within it, not without it. He had come +home from London fog and rain with a happy sense of its bright fires and +spaciousness, its carpets and furniture, not so new that a muddy foot or +a stray shower of tobacco-ash was a thing to be feared--old friends +every one of them. The love and loyalty within his doors were something +that came out to welcome the General's home-coming like a sudden +firelight streaming out into the black night. + +Now his little girl was unhappy, and the shadow of her unhappiness was +over his nights and days. It was when he felt this that he had written +to Captain Langrishe, saying nothing to her about it, stealing out, in +fact, at night to post the letter secretly, he whose correspondence, +such as it was--he was no great penman--had always lain in the +letter-basket on the hall table for the servants to scrutinise the +addresses if they would before it was posted. + +When the answer came he congratulated himself on his forethought. +Luckily, that morning he was first at the breakfast-table. Of late +Nelly, who had been wont to rise as cheerfully as a waking bird, was +tardy occasionally. The General suspected broken sleep, and had bidden +the servants tenderly not to call her, although the breakfast-table was +not the same thing with no bright face and golden head opposite to him. + +When he had read the letter he thrust it into an inner pocket. The +servant, who was attending, went away at the moment, and the General got +up quickly, and with a stealthy glance at the door, buried the letter in +the heart of the fire, raked the coals over it, and was in his place +before the servant returned. + +"Confound the fellow!" he said under his breath. + +Plainly, there was nothing more to be done. The child had to go through +it. People had to endure such things. Yet he was miserable, watching +furtively her dimmed roses and the circles about her eyes. His little +Nell, who had lived in the sunshine all her days! + +It was, perhaps, not to be wondered at that, in the perturbation of his +mind, the pendulum should have swung towards Robin. "Confound the +fellow!"--(meaning Captain Langrishe)--"What did he mean by making Nelly +unhappy?" A still, small voice whispered to the General that the young +man was acting on some foolish, overstrained, honourable scruple just as +he would have done himself in his youth--nay, to-day, for the matter of +that. But he would not listen to the voice. He fretted and fumed, puffed +himself up into a great rage as men of his temperament will. Confound +the fellow! He had gone half-way to meet him, for Nelly's sake, and the +fellow had refused to budge. Confound him and be hanged to him! The +General would have used much worse language if the simple piety which +hid behind his blusterousness had not come in to restrain him. + +He blamed himself--to be sure, he blamed himself. What a selfish old +curmudgeon he had been, always thinking of himself and his own likes and +dislikes! Where could his Nelly find greater security for happiness than +in the keeping of Gerald's son? Everybody thought well of Robin. There +had never been anything against him. Why, not a week ago, one of the +finest soldiers in the army, a field-marshal, a household word in the +homes of England, had button-holed the General to congratulate him on a +speech of Robin's. + +"That young man will be a credit to you, Drummond," he had said. "Mark +my words, that young man will be a credit to you." + +And the General had been oddly impressed by the opinion, coming from his +old comrade in arms, and one of the finest soldiers that ever stepped. +And, to be sure, he had been trying to set Nelly against Robin all the +days of her life. + +When he had come to this point in his meditations he groaned aloud. A +thought had come to him of how little Nelly would be really his, married +to Robin Drummond. He would have no need for the house then. He would +have to dismiss the servants, the old servants of whom he was fond, who +adored him, and go into lodgings. He might keep Pat, perhaps. Even the +dogs would go with Nelly. He would never have his girl any more. The +Dowager would be always there. The Dowager would know better than anyone +how to set up an invisible barrier between Nelly and her father. Why, +since she had been their neighbour things had not been the same. She had +carried Nelly hither and thither, to concerts and At Homes and +picture-galleries and what-not. She talked of presenting her at Court, +with an air of significance which the General loathed. The question in +her eye and smile--the General called it a smirk--the very transparent +question was as to whether it was not better to wait and present Nelly +on her marriage. + +When the Dowager was sly she made the General furious. Was his little +girl to be married out of hand to Robin Drummond without being given the +chance to see the world and other men? He asked the question hotly, +pacing up and down the faded Persian rug in his den. Then a chill came +on his heat. He had not been able to keep Nelly from choosing, and she +had chosen unwisely. He had had a dream of himself and young Langrishe +and Nelly and the babies in the big happy house. They would belong to +him--no one would push him away from his girl. They would be together +till they closed his eyes. The thought of it now was like a green oasis +in the desert; but it was a mirage, only a mirage! + +And Nelly must not suffer. Langrishe had rejected her--rejected that +sweet thing, confound him! And there was her cousin Robin, patient and +faithful, waiting to make her happy. He forgot that once upon a time he +had been furious with Robin for his patience. Robin was a kind fellow, a +good fellow. He seemed to be always at the beck and call of his mother +and Nelly, always ready to escort them. Why, only yesterday Nelly had +said that there was no one so comfortable as Robin to go about with, and +then, in a fit of compunction, had flown to her father and hugged him +hard. + +"Never mind, Nell, never mind," the General had said. "I never took you +about much, did I? We were great home-keepers, you and I. Never seemed +to want to gad about, did we? I ought to have taken you about more. It +was a dull life for a young girl--a dull life. I ought to be obliged to +your aunt for showing me the error of my ways, for making life +pleasanter for you." + +He gulped over the end of the speech. + +"It was a lovely life," cried Nelly wildly, and then burst into tears. + +The General was terribly distressed. He had had no experience of Nelly +in tears. She had never wept or fainted or done any of the interesting +things young ladies were supposed to do in his time. She had been always +the light of the house, always happy and healthy and gay. + +While he looked at the bell uncertainly, being half of a mind to summon +assistance, Nelly relieved him from his doubt by running away out of the +room, and when they met again he did not remind her of the scene. That +discretion of his went to her heart. It was so strange and pitiful for +him to be discreet, so unlike him. + +After that he began to praise Robin Drummond, not too suddenly nor too +effusively at first, but by degrees, so as not to awaken Nelly's +suspicions. He amazed Robin Drummond by his cordiality in those days, +and the young fellow commented on it whimsically to Nelly herself. + +"He has been telling me all my life that I am a poor creature," he said, +"and here he is, to all intents and purposes, eating his own words. Just +fancy his wading through that speech of mine on the estimates and +pretending to be interested in it, even praising it, Nell. Seeing that +the speech was all against our maintaining our big standing army, on a +motion to cut down the expenditure, it is bewildering. Is it a mild +joke, Nell dear?" + +"You may call it a joke if you like," she said, her eyes filling with +tears. "I call it heart-breaking, heart-breaking. If he would only abuse +you as he used to do!" + +"Dear Nell, what's up?" asked Robin, in great penitence. "I had no idea +I was saying anything to hurt you. The dear old man! Why, I never +resented his abuse. I'd rather he'd abuse me, like a dog, as they +say--though I don't see why anyone should want to abuse a dog--if it +made you happier." + +Certainly, all Nelly's world was very good to her in those days. As for +Robin Drummond, he thought of women with a chivalrous tenderness +somewhat strange considering that the Dowager was his mother. To him +they were something delicate, mysterious, inexplicable. If he had had a +sister he would have adored her. Not having one, he lavished on Nelly +the feeling he would have given a sister; and hitherto he had been +content with the ardour of his feelings. What could a man wish for +sweeter and prettier beside his hearth than little Nelly? He had fallen +in love with that plan of his mother's for him and Nell with lazy +contentment. He liked Nelly's society, and it did not occur to him that +he would be just as well pleased with her daily companionship if he +could have it without the tie between them becoming more than cousinly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +LOVERS' PARTING + + +It might have been better for Nelly if her father had told her of those +tentative advances to Captain Langrishe, for then her pride might have +come to her aid. As it was, she had nothing to go upon but those looks +of his, and his manner to her when they had met at the houses of +friends. For they had met, and that was something the General did not +know. More, Nelly had engineered, with the cleverness of a girl in love, +an acquaintance with Captain Langrishe's sister, a Mrs. Rooke, who lived +in one of the Bayswater squares. Mrs. Rooke was a vivacious little dark +woman, with a cheek like a peach's rosy side. She was perfectly happy in +her own married life, and she had the happily-married woman's desire to +bring lovers together. She had taken a prodigious fancy to Nelly. While +Captain Langrishe yet remained in England that house in the Bayswater +square had an overwhelming attraction for Nelly. + +She had gone there first under the Dowager's wing. Cyprian Rooke, K.C., +belonged to an unexceptionable family, and even the proud Dowager could +find no fault with Nelly's friendship for his wife. + +In those days poor Nelly used to feel a perfect monster of deceit. For, +first of all, she was deceiving her dear old father. The name of Rooke +signified nothing one way or the other to him. Then there was the +Dowager, who had proved the most patient and considerate of chaperons, +sitting wide-eyed and cheerful till her charge had danced through the +programme if it so pleased her; going hither and thither to crowded At +Homes, attending first nights at the play--doing, in fact, everything to +give Nelly a good time. To be sure, the Dowager attached no importance +to the name of Langrishe any more than the General did to that of Rooke. + +Mrs. Rooke gave a good many dances after Christmas, and Nelly was at +them all. Sometimes Robin was there, sometimes that was not possible. +And Robin was out of his element at such gatherings, since he did not +dance and could find no conversation to his mind while he leant against +the wall of the ball-room or hung about the doors. Life was so full of +work for him that it seemed unreasonable to keep him where there was +nothing he could do. + +Captain Langrishe turned up at the dances as unfailingly as Nelly +herself. He came in spite of many resolutions to the contrary, as the +moth comes to singe its wings in the flame of the candle. He did not +make Nelly conspicuous for the Dowager or anyone else to see. Sometimes +he asked her for several dances. Again, he would be merely polite in +asking her for one; and would yield her up coldly to her next partner +and never come to her side again for the rest of the evening. Unlike Sir +Robin, he danced conspicuously well. Nelly had thrilled to a speech of +Robin's: "One cannot despise the art of dancing for a man when a fellow +like that thinks it worth his while to excel in it." + +One night, when the guests had departed, Mrs. Rooke had something to +tell her husband. + +"That little wretch, Nelly Drummond!" she said. "I thought she was as +innocent and candid as a child. Would you believe it that all the time +she has been engaged to that gawky cousin of hers?" + +"My dear Belinda, all what time?" + +"Well, for a lawyer, Cyprian----" + +"I know I'm obtuse, but the law doesn't favour deductions. All what +time?" + +"Why, all the time poor Godfrey's been falling head over ears in love +with her." + +Mr. Rooke whistled. He was fond of his wife's brother. + +"Are you sure, Bel? I noticed particularly that he was dancing with the +wallflowers to-night. He's a good fellow, so that didn't surprise me. +Now you mention it, I caught sight of the little girl dancing with Jack +Menzies. She didn't look particularly happy." + +"She hasn't been looking particularly happy. I have been imagining that +Godfrey's poverty stood between them. He is so impracticable. And I have +been making opportunities for them to meet. After all, she is Sir Denis +Drummond's only child, and is sure to be sufficiently well off. And +here, after all my trouble, I find she is engaged to her cousin. I +wonder what she can see in that ugly stick to prefer him to Godfrey!" + +"She may not prefer him, my dear. It may be a marriage of convenience. +And Drummond is not a stick. That is your feminine prejudice. He is a +very clever fellow, although he has got the Socialistic bee in his +bonnet. However, he's young, and has time to mend his ways." + +"I don't want to discuss him. How coldblooded you are, Cyprian! I can +only think of my poor Godfrey going off to the ends of the earth, and +his being deceived and hurt by that heartless girl." + +"You will let him know?" + +"I certainly shall. He ought to know. It may be the quickest way to make +him forget her." + +"Since he seems to have made up his mind to go away without speaking to +her, I can't see that any great harm has been done," Mr. Rooke said, +with his masculine common-sense. + +"I shall never forgive her," Mrs. Rooke retorted, with true feminine +inconsequence. + +She took an early opportunity of telling her brother what the Dowager +had told her. The occasion was in her own drawing-room at the +afternoon-tea hour, and, since the room was only lit by firelight and a +tall standard lamp, his face, where he stood by the mantel-shelf, was in +shadow. There had been something portentous in the manner of the +telling. + +For a few seconds he kept silence. Then he spoke very quietly. + +"I hope Miss Drummond may be happy," he said. He did not trouble to put +on a pretence of indifference with Bel, just as he did not wish to talk +about it. He went on to speak of ordinary topics. That evening he stayed +to dinner. He had only a week more in England. Under the electric light +at the dinner-table his haggardness was revealed. + +"For once," said Cyprian Rooke afterwards, "your discovery wasn't a +mare's nest, my dear Bel. Godfrey looks hard hit." + +The week turned round quietly. Nelly had not heard definitely the date +of Captain Langrishe's departure. For six days she kept away from the +Rookes' house. On that last evening he had been icily cold. The poor +girl was in torture. All the week she was calling pride to her aid. The +sixth day it refused to bolster her up any longer. The sixth day she met +at lunch a friend of hers and Belinda Rooke's. She asked a question +about the Rookes with averted eyes. + +"Poor girl," said the friend; "she is in grief over Godfrey Langrishe. +He sails to-morrow." + +The rest of that luncheon-party was a phantasmagoria of faces and voices +to poor Nelly. He was going, and she would never see him again, although +he had shown her by a thousand infallible signs that he loved her. +Despite his occasional coldness, she was sure he loved her. Her pride +was down with a vengeance. She felt nothing at the moment but a desire +to see him before he should go--just to see him, to see the lighting up +of his gloomy eyes, as they had lit up on seeing her suddenly before he +could get his face under control. After that one meeting, the deluge! +But she must see him--she must see him for the last time. + +The kindly hostess insisted on her going home in a cab. When she had +been driven some distance, Nelly pushed up the little trapdoor of the +hansom and gave another address than Sherwood Square. + +Having done it, she felt happier. However it ended, she was making a +last attempt to see him. She could not have endured a passive +acquiescence in her destiny, whatever was to be the end of it. + +The luncheon-party had been prolonged, and the gas-lamps in the streets +were lit. It was the close of the short winter's day. Night came +prematurely between the high Bayswater houses. It was almost dark when +she stood at last on Mrs. Rooke's doorstep, asking herself what she +should do if Mrs. Rooke was away from home. + +Mrs. Rooke was out, as it happened, but the maid-servant, who knew +Nelly, and, like all servants, had been captivated by her pleasant, +friendly ways, invited her in to await the lady's return. Mrs. Rooke was +expected back to tea. With a smile on her lips she held the drawing-room +door open for Nelly to enter. + +Nelly passed through. There was a big French screen by the door. She had +passed beyond it and out into the warm firelit room before she realised +that there was another occupant. Someone stood up from the couch by the +fireplace as she came towards it. Fate had been on her side for once. +The person was Captain Langrishe. + +"My sister will not be very long, Miss Drummond," he began, in a tone he +tried in vain to make indifferent. "I hope you won't mind waiting in my +company." + +Mind waiting, indeed! To Nelly, as to himself, the seconds were precious +ones. Mrs. Rooke was shopping on that particular afternoon. It was a +kind fate that made it so difficult for her to find just the things she +wanted, that sent half-a-dozen acquaintances and friends in her way. + +He took Nelly's hand in his. It was quite cold and clammy, although it +had come out of a satin-lined muff. The hand trembled. + +"I heard you were going to-morrow," she said. "I'm so glad I am in time +to wish you _bon voyage_." + +"Won't you sit down?" + +He set a chair for her in front of the fire. The flames lit up her +golden hair, and revealed her charming face in its becoming setting of +the sables she wore. He sat in his obscure corner, watching her with +moody eyes. He said to himself that he would never see her again, yet he +laboured to make ordinary everyday talk. He asked after the General, and +regretted that the hurry of these latter days had prevented his calling +at Sherwood Square. + +"We miss you at the head of the squadron," said Nelly, innocently. "It +isn't the same thing now that there is a stranger." + +"Ah!" A flame leaped into his eyes. He leant forward a little. "That +reminds me I ought not to go without making a confession." He was taking +a pocket-book from his breastpocket. He opened it, and held it under +Nelly's eyes. There was a piece of blue ribbon there. She recognised it +with a great leap of her heart. It was her own ribbon which she had lost +that spring day as she stood on the balcony looking down at the +soldiers. + +"You recognise it? It was yours. The wind blew it down close to my hand. +I caught it. I have kept it ever since. May I keep it still? It can do +no harm to anybody, my having it--may I keep it?" + +She answered something under her breath, which he construed to be "Yes." +She had been feeling the cruelty of it all, that their last hour +together should be taken up by talking of commonplaces. At the sudden +change in his tone--although it was unhappy, there was passion in it, +and the chill seemed to pass away from her heart--the tears filled her +eyes, overflowed them, ran warmly down her cheeks. + +At the sight of those tears the young man forgot everything, except that +she was lovely and he loved her and she was crying for him. He leaped to +her side and dropped on his knees. He put both his arms about her and +pressed her closely to him. + +"Are you crying because I am going, my darling?" he said. "Good heavens! +don't cry--I'm not worth it. And yet I shall remember, when the world is +between us, that you cried because I was going, you angel of mercy." + +An older woman than Nelly might have had the presence of mind to ask him +why he was going. But she was silent. She felt it over-whelmingly sweet +to be held so, to feel his hand smoothing her hair. The bunch of lilies +of the valley she had been wearing was crushed between his breast and +her breast. The sweetness of them rose up as something exquisite and +forlorn. His hand moved tremblingly over her hair to her cheek. + +"Give me a kiss, Nelly," he said, "and I will go. Just one kiss. I shall +never have another in all my days. Good-bye, my heart's delight." + +For a second their lips clung together. Then his arms relaxed. He put +her down gently into a chair. She lay back with closed eyes. She heard +the door shut behind her. Then she sprang to her feet, realising that he +was gone and it was too late to recall him. + +Why should he go? she asked herself, as, with trembling hands, she +arranged the disorder of her hair. Then the merely conventional came in, +as it will even at such tense moments. She asked herself how she would +look to his sister, if she appeared at this moment; to the maid, who +might be expected at any moment bringing in the lamp. The room was dark +but for the firelight. How would she look, with her tear-stained visage +and the disorder of her appearance? She could not sit and make small +talk. That was a heroism beyond her. And she was afraid to speak to +anyone lest she should break down. She adopted a cowardly course. +Afterwards she must explain it to Mrs. Rooke somehow. She put the +consideration of how out of sight: it could wait till the turmoil of her +thoughts was over. + +She stole from the room, let herself out quietly, and was grateful for +the dark and the cool, frosty air. About five minutes after she had gone +Mrs. Rooke came in laden with small parcels. + +"The Captain and Miss Drummond are in the drawing-room, ma'am," said the +maid. + +"Then you can bring tea." + +Mrs. Rooke opened the drawing-room door leisurely, turning the handle +once or twice before she did so. She was excited at the thought of the +things that might be happening the other side of the door. Supposing +that Nelly had discovered that life with a poor foot-captain was a more +desirable thing than life with a well-endowed baronet, a coming man in +the political world to boot! Supposing--there was no end to the +suppositions that passed through Mrs. Rooke's busy brain in a few +seconds of time. Then--she entered the room and found emptiness. + +"You are sure that neither the Captain nor Miss Drummond left a +message?" she said to the maid who brought the tea. + +"Quite sure, ma'am. I had no idea they were gone." + +"Do you suppose they went away together, Jane?" + +Mrs. Rooke was ready to accept a crumb of possible comfort from her +handmaid. + +"I do remember now, ma'am, that when I was pulling down the blind +upstairs I heard the hall-door shut twice. I never thought of looking in +the drawing-room, ma'am. I made sure that the noise of the blinds had +deceived me into taking next-door for ours." + +"Ah, thank you, Jane, that will do." + +The omens were not at all propitious. Mrs. Rooke was fain to acknowledge +as much to herself dejectedly. Nor did Cyprian think them propitious +when taken into counsel. When she went downstairs, she found that her +brother had come in. He was to spend the last evening at his sister's +house. + +Captain Langrishe's face, however, did not invite questions. He made no +allusion at all to the happenings of the afternoon, and his sister felt +that she could not ask him. She had a heavy heart for him as she bade +him good-night, although she called something after him with a cheerful +pretence about their rendezvous next morning. + +"It _is_ nine-thirty at Fenchurch Street, isn't it?" she asked. + +"Do you think you will ever manage it, Bel?" Captain Langrishe smiled at +her haggardly. + +"Oh, yes, easily--by staying up all night," she answered. + +But her heart was as heavy as lead for him. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GENERAL HAS AN IDEA + + +When Sir Denis came home from his club that evening he learned that Miss +Nelly had gone to bed with a headache. + +Pat, who told him, looked away as he gave the information, as though he +did not believe in his own words. Miss Nelly with a headache! Why, God +bless her, she had never had such a thing, not from the day she was +born! To be sure, the whole affectionate household knew that there was +some cloud over Miss Nelly. They didn't talk much about it. Pat and +Bridget knew better than to have the servants' hall gossiping over the +master and Miss Nelly. A new under-housemaid, who was greatly addicted +to the reading of penny novelettes, suggested that Miss Nelly was being +forced into marrying her cousin by the machinations of his mother, who +was not _persona grata_ with the servants' hall. But Pat had nipped the +young person's imaginings in the bud. + +"She may be contrairy enough to give the General the gout in his big toe +and the twisht in his timper, as often she's done. But she can't make +our Miss Nelly marry where she don't like. If you'd put your romantic +notions into your scrubbin' now, Miss Higgs; but I suppose it's your +name is the matter with you, and you can't help it." + +The under-housemaid, whose name happened to be Gladys Higgs, was reduced +to tears by this remark, and the tears brought the kind-hearted Pat to +repentance for his hastiness. + +"Whatever the dickens came over me," he imparted to Bridget when they +were having a snack of bread and cheese between meals in the room +allotted to the cook, who was now also housekeeper, "to go sharpenin' my +tongue on that foolish little girl? It isn't for you an' me to be makin' +fun of their quare names. 'Tis no credit to us if we have elegant names +in the counthry we come from." + +"Aye, indeed. Where would you find pleasanter thin MacGeoghegan or +McGroarty or Magillacuddy? There was a polisman in our town by the name +of McGuffin. I always thought it real pleasant." + +"Sure what would be on the little girl?--'tis Miss Nelly, I mean," said +Pat, in a manner that showed his real anxiety. "She scared me, so she +did, with her nonsense, that Gladys. For it stands to reason that Miss +Nelly wouldn't mind marryin' Sir Robin--isn't he the fittest match for +her?--if it wasn't that there might be someone else. And who could it +be, I ask you, unbeknownst to us that has watched over her from a +babby?" + +"You're a foolish man to be takin' that much notice of that Gladys girl +and her talk. Why shouldn't Miss Nelly have a headache? Why, I remember +the Miss O'Flahertys, Lord Dunshanbo's daughters, when I was a little +girl; and 'twas faintin' on the floor they were every other minute and +everyone havin' to run and cut their stay-laces. They were fifty, too, +if they were a day, so they ought to have had more sense. Why wouldn't +Miss Nelly have Quality ways?" + +"Young ladies aren't like that nowadays," Pat said dolefully. "'Tis the +bicycle and the golf. They've no stay-laces to cut, so they don't go +faintin' away. And Miss Nelly, poor lamb, she'd never be thinkin' of +doing such a thing." + +He went off sorrowfully, shaking his head. The mysteriousness of the +change in Miss Nelly perturbed him the more. He looked away from the +General when he gave the information about the headache. + +"Miss Nelly said, sir," he volunteered, "that she was to be called, +unless she was asleep, when you came home to dinner. Shall I send up +Fanny to call her?" + +"Not for worlds," said the General. "I'll go myself. She mustn't be +disturbed, poor child, if she has a headache." + +He went upstairs softly, pursing out his lips as he went along in +troubled thought. He opened the door of his daughter's room, and spoke +her name in a whisper. There was not a sound. + +"Fast asleep," he said, with a sigh, as he went to his dressing-room to +dress for dinner. That was something he would not have omitted for any +possible calamity that could befall him. + +He ate his dinner in lonely state. Bridget had done her best by way of +expressing her sympathy, but he ate without his usual enjoyment. + +"Sure," said Pat afterwards, "he didn't know but what it was sawdust he +was atin' instead of that beautiful volly-vong of yours. He could barely +touch the mutton, and a beautiful little joint it was. Sure, there's a +sad change come over the house, anyway." + +The General gave orders that Miss Nelly was not to be disturbed again +that night. After dinner he retired to his den and made a pretence of +reading the papers, but his heart wasn't in it. He missed even a speech +of Robin's which would have enraged him in happier times. He sat turning +over the sheets and sighing to himself now and again; only when Pat came +in with a pretence of replenishing the fire--it was Pat's way of showing +his silent sympathy--was the General absorbed in his newspaper. Not that +it imposed on Pat, who mentioned afterwards to Bridget that he didn't +believe the master knew a word of what he was looking at. + +About half-past nine the General relinquished that pretence of reading. +He felt the house to be nearly as sad as though someone were lying dead +in it, and he could support it no longer. He must find out what was the +matter with the child, or at least show her how her old father's heart +bled for her. He got up quietly from his big easy-chair, from which he +had been used to survey his Nelly's face at the other side of the +fireplace for many a happy year. To be sure, it had not been the same +since the Dowager had come, and Nelly had gone gadding of evenings. +Still, she had always come in to kiss him before she went off, looking +radiant and sweet, with the hood of her evening cloak over her bright +head and framing the dearest face in the world. She had always clung to +him with her soft arms about his neck, and he had not minded her absence +since she was enjoying herself as she ought at her age. + +He climbed up the stairs of the high house. Nelly had chosen a bedroom +right at the top, whence she could look away over the London roofs to +the mists that hid the country. + +The blinds were up and the cold winter moon lay on the girl's bed. The +General came in tip-toe, trying to avoid creaking on the bare boards, +which Nelly preferred to carpets. But his precaution was unnecessary. +She was lying wide-awake. The darkness of her eyes in her face, +unnaturally white from the moonlight, frightened him. He had a memory of +Nelly's mother as he had seen her newly-dead, and the memory scared him. + +"Is that you, papa?" Nelly asked, half-lifting herself on her pillow. +"Come and sit down. I was thinking of dressing myself and coming down to +you." + +"You mustn't do that if your headache is not better." + +"It was nothing at all of a headache," she said with a weary little +sigh, "but I must have fallen asleep. If I had not I should have come +down to dinner. I only awoke just before the church clock struck nine. +Were you very lonely?" + +"I am always lonely without you, Nell. You have had nothing to eat, have +you? No. Well, perhaps you'd better come down and have a little meal in +the study by the fire. Unless you'd prefer a fire up here. The room +strikes cold. To be sure, the windows are open. There is snow coming, I +think." + +"I like the cold. I'm not hungry, but I shall get up presently. I +haven't really gone to bed." + +She put out a chilly little hand over her father's, and he took it into +his. When had they wanted anyone but each other? What new love could +ever be as true and tender as his? + +"Oh!" cried Nelly, burying her face in her pillow. "I'm a wicked girl to +be discontented. I ought to have everything in the world, having you." + +"And when did my Nelly become discontented?" he asked, with a passionate +tenderness. "What has clouded over my girl, the light of the house? What +is it, Nell?" + +He had been both father and mother to her. For a second or two she kept +her face buried, as if she would still hold her secret from him. His +hand brushed the pale ripples of her hair, as another hand had brushed +them a short time back. He expected her to answer him, and he was +waiting. + +"It is Captain Langrishe," she whispered at last. "His boat goes from +Tilbury to-morrow morning." + +"From Tilbury." The General remembered that Grogan of the Artillery, the +club bore, had a daughter and son-in-law sailing from Tilbury next +morning, and had suggested his accompanying him to the docks. "Why he +should have asked me," the General had said irritably, "when I can +barely endure him for half-an-hour, is more than I can imagine!" + +"What is wrong between you and Langrishe, Nell?" he asked softly. "I +thought he was a good fellow. I know he's a good soldier; and a good +soldier must be a good fellow. Has anyone been making mischief?" + +He sent a sudden wrathful thought towards the Dowager. Who else was so +likely to make mischief? The thought that someone had been making +mischief was almost hopeful, since mischief done could be undone if one +only set about it rightly. + +"No one," Nelly answered mournfully. + +The General suddenly stiffened. His one explanation of Langrishe's pride +standing in the way was forgotten; it was not reason enough. Was it +possible that Langrishe had been playing fast-and-loose with his girl? +Was it possible--this was more incredible still--that he did not return +her innocent passion? For a few seconds he did not speak. His +indignation was ebbing into a dull acquiescence. If Langrishe did not +care--why, no one on earth could make him care. No one could blame him +even. + +"You must give up thinking of him, Nell," he said at last. He could not +bring himself to ask her if Langrishe cared. "You must forget him, +little girl, and try to be satisfied with your old father till someone +more worthy comes along." + +"But he is worthy." Nelly spoke with a sudden flash of spirit. "And he +cares so much. I always felt he cared. But I never knew how much till we +met at his sister's this afternoon and he bade me good-bye." + +"Then why is he going?" the General asked, with pardonable amazement. + +"Oh, I don't know," Nelly answered irritably. She had never been +irritable in all her sunny life. "But although he is gone I am happier +than I have been for a long time since I know he cares so much." + +"I'll tell you what,"--the General got up quite briskly--"dress +yourself, Nell, and come down to the study, and we'll talk things over. +You may be sure, little girl, that your old father will leave no stone +unturned to secure your happiness. I'll ring for your dinner to be +brought up on a tray and we'll have a happy evening together. And you'd +better have a fire here, Nell. It's a very pretty room, my dear, with +all your pretty fal-lals, but it strikes me as being very chilly." + +He went downstairs and rang the bell for Miss Nelly's dinner. The fire +had been stoked in his absence, and was now burning gloriously. + +He drew Nelly's chair closer to it and a screen around the chair. He put +a cushion for her back, and a hassock for her feet. The little acts were +each an eloquent expression of his love for her. He was suddenly, +irrationally hopeful. He reproached himself because he had done so +little. He had thought he was doing a great deal when he, an old man and +so high in his profession, had made advances to the young fellow for his +girl's sake. To be sure, he had been certain that Langrishe was in love +with Nell, else the thing had not been possible. Now that his love was +beyond doubt the old idea recurred to him. It must be some chivalrous, +overstrained scruple about his poverty which came between poor Nell and +her happiness. Standing by the fire, waiting for Nelly, he rubbed his +hands together with a return of cheerfulness. + +In a few minutes she came gliding in shyly. That confidence had only +been possible in the dark. The General felt her embarrassment and busied +himself in stirring the fire. Pat came up with the tray--such a dainty +tray, loaded with good things. The General called for a glass of wine +for Miss Nelly. He waited on her with a tender assiduity and she forced +herself to eat, saying to herself with passionate gratitude that she +would be a brute if she did not swallow to please him. + +The wine brought a colour to her cheeks. She watched her father with shy +eyes. What could he do to bring her and her lover together, seeing that +it was Captain Langrishe's last night in England and that he would not +return for five years? Five years spread out an eternity to Nelly's +youthful gaze. She might be dead before five years were over. This +afternoon she had felt no great desire to live, but that despair, of +course, was wrong. She had not remembered at the moment how dear she and +her father were to each other. As long as they were together there must +be compensations for anything in life. + +She had expected her father to speak, but he did not. While he had been +standing by the fire awaiting her coming he had had qualms. Supposing +she had made a mistake about the young fellow's feeling for her. Such +things happened with girls sometimes. Supposing--no, it was better to +keep silence for the present. If things turned out well, it would be +time enough to tell Nelly. If things turned out well! What, after all, +were five years? To the General, for whom the wheel of the days and the +years had been turning giddily fast and ever faster these many years +back, five years counted for little. He had a hale, hearty old life. +Surely the Lord in His goodness would permit him to look on Nelly's +happiness and his grandchildren! It was another thing to think of +Nelly's children when the match was not of the Dowager's making. + +He inspired Nelly with something of his own hopefulness. She saw that he +had some design which she was not to share. Well, she could trust his +love to move mountains for her happiness. The evening was far better +than she could have hoped for, and she went to bed comforted. + +"Early breakfast, Nell," he said as they parted. "I've ordered it for +eight o'clock. But I shan't expect to see you unless you feel like it. +These cold mornings it's allowable to be a little lazy." + +This from the General, who rose at half-past six all the year round and +had his cold bath even when he had to break the ice on it. Nelly's +laziness, too, was a matter of recent date. She had always loved the +winter and had seemed to glow the fresher the colder the weather. + +The General thought of himself as an arch-diplomatist, but he was +transparent enough to his daughter. + +"He doesn't want me at breakfast," she said to herself. "He doesn't want +me to ask questions. So I shall save him embarrassment by not +appearing." + +The next morning there was no General to see the squadron of the old +regiment gallop past. No family prayers either. What were things coming +to? the servants asked each other. And second breakfast at nine for Miss +Nelly! + +"Take my word for it," said Bridget to Pat, "the next thing'll be Miss +Nelly havin' her breakfast in bed like Lord Dunshanbo's daughters. Five +of them there was, Pat, all old maids. And they used to sit round in +their beds, every one with a satin quilt, and their hair in curl-papers, +and a newspaper spread out to save the quilt." + +"'Tis too early and too cowld," said Pat, interrupting this +reminiscence, "for the master to be goin' out. And he doesn't like bein' +put out of his habits, not by the half of a second. I used to think +before I was a soldier that punctuality was the most onnecessary thing +on earth, but I've come to like it somehow." + +"The same here," said Bridget, "though it wasn't in my blood. I wondher +what they'd think of us at home?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE LEADING AND THE LIGHT + + +The General was at Fenchurch Street by half-past nine. He rather +expected to see old Grogan on the platform, and was not sure whether he +was relieved or disappointed by his absence. On the one hand, he could +hardly have borne Grogan's twaddle on the journey to Tilbury, his mind +being engrossed as it was. On the other, he looked to him to cover his +presence at the boat. + +Now that he was started on the adventure he was nervously anxious lest +he should compromise his girl by betraying to Langrishe the errand he +was come on, unless, indeed, Langrishe gave him the lead. He was as +sensitive as Nelly herself could have been about offering her where she +was not desired or was likely to be rejected. But he assured himself +that everything would be right. In the sudden surprise of seeing him, +Langrishe would say or do something that would give him a lead. He would +be able to bring back a message of hope to Nelly. Five years--after all, +what were five years? Especially to a girl as young as Nelly. They could +wait very well till Langrishe came home again. + +At the booking-office he was told that the special train for the +_Sutlej_ had just gone. Another train for Tilbury was leaving in five +minutes. + +"You will get in soon after the special," the booking-clerk assured him. +"Plenty of time to see your friends before she sails. Why, she's not due +to sail till twelve o'clock. There'll be a deal of luggage to be got on +board." + +The General unfolded his _Standard_ in the railway carriage, and turned +to the principal page of news. A big headline, followed by a number of +smaller ones, caught his eye: "Outrage at Shawur. An English Officer and +Five Sepoys Caught in a Trap. Death of Major Sayers. Regiment Sent in +Pursuit. Statement in the House." + +The General bent his brows over the report. He had known poor Sayers--a +most distinguished soldier, but brave to rashness. And the Wazees tribe, +treacherous rascals! The General had some experience of them too. Ah, so +Mordaunt was sent in pursuit. The tribe had retired after the murder to +its fastnesses in the hills. He remembered those fortified towers in the +hill valleys. He had had to smoke them out once like rats in a hole. Ah, +poor Sayers! The brutes! And Sayers had a young wife! + +He lifted his head from the paper, and stared out of the carriage +windows, where tiny cottages, with neat white stones for their garden +borders, showed that the train was passing through a residential +district much affected by retired sailor-men. The mast of a ship seemed +to be a favourite ornament, and a little flag was hoisted on many lawns. +Flakes of dry snow came in the wind, but, cold as it was, a good many of +the old sailors were out pottering about their tiny gardens. Here a +glimpse of the river, or a church spire with many graves nestled under +it, came to break the monotony of the little houses. + +The General looked without seeing. He was thinking of Sayers' young +wife--to be sure, she was not so young now: she must be well over +thirty--an innocent-faced creature, sitting at the piano in a white +gown, singing, while he and poor Sayers paced the garden-walk in the +twilight. Poor woman! how was she to bear it? Those knives, too! The +General ground his teeth in fury. + +Then suddenly another aspect of the matter flashed upon him, so suddenly +that he almost leaped in his seat. Why, the --th Madras Light +Infantry--he remembered now--it was Langrishe's regiment. How +extraordinary that he should not have remembered before! It was the +regiment sent in pursuit. Langrishe would fall in for some fighting--he +would find it ready-made to his hand. Those little frontier wars were +endless things once they started. And what toll they took of precious +human lives! In the last one more young fellows of the General's +acquaintance had been killed than he liked to remember. Such deaths, +too! Even the bravest soldier might well shrink from the fiendish things +the Wazees were capable of. + +Suddenly the train pulled up abruptly, so abruptly that for a few +seconds it quivered as a horse will after being hard-driven. The General +went to the window and looked out. The houses had been left behind and +around them was a country of grey mud-flats with the river dragging its +sluggish length through it like a great serpent. There was a windmill on +the horizon, breaking the uniform grey of land and river and sky. The +sky was heavy with coming snow. + +The guard of the train was standing on the line, beating his two arms +against his breast to warm them, and answering stolidly the impatient +questions of the passengers. + +"Obstruction on the line in front, sir," he said, addressing nobody in +particular. "Waggon broke away from the siding and got on to our track. +There's a breakdown gang doing its level best to get us clear. How long? +Can't say, I'm sure, sir. Matter of half an hour, maybe." + +The matter of half an hour became a matter of three-quarters, of an +hour, of an hour and a quarter. The train grumbled from end to end. Here +and there a particularly indignant passenger got out with the expressed +intention of walking to his destination. The officials bore it all +patiently. It was no fault of theirs. The breakdown gang, was doing its +best. It was a very lucky thing the runaway had been discovered just +before the train came round the corner. The train for the _Sutlej_ must +have had a narrow shave of meeting it. + +The General sat in his compartment, which he had to himself, with his +watch in his hand. He was thinking of Sayers and Sayers' young wife. +Mordaunt was not married, but he had an old mother at home in England. +It was bad enough for the men, the brave fellows. But that women should +have to suffer such things through their love was intolerable. + +The cold intensified. Philosophical passengers either wrapped themselves +in their rugs or got out and walked up and down, stamping their feet, +their hands in their coat-pockets. The General sat, quiet as a Fate, +staring at his watch. His thoughts were tending towards a certain +conclusion. + +At first he had been merely impatient for the train to get on. As time +passed he became more impatient as it was borne in on him that he might +possibly be too late for the _Sutlej_. He might lose the chance of +looking in Langrishe's eyes and getting the lead he desired so that he +might say the words which would bring happiness to his Nelly. Still the +time went on. His moustache became little icicles. If anyone had been +looking at him they might have thought that he suggested being frozen +himself, so stiff and grey was he. They were within a few miles of +Tilbury. It was now half-past eleven. The _Sutlej_ was to sail at +twelve. Was there any chance of his being there in time? The guard had +said half an hour! If he had not, the General might have walked with +those other impatient passengers. + +But if the General was a religious man--nay, rather because he was a +religious man--he looked for signs and portents from God for the +direction of his everyday life. He believed that God, amid all His +whirling world of stars and all His ages, had leisure to attend to every +unit of a life upon earth. He believed in special Providences. +Everything that was dear to him or near to his heart he commended to God +in his prayers. He had prayed for direction and guidance in this matter +of his girl and young Langrishe. He had thought to do his best. Well, +was not the breakdown of the train a sign that his best was not God's +best? + +At ten minutes to twelve the track was free, and the train resumed its +journey. It was now one chance in a thousand that the General would not +be too late. If that chance came, if he saw Langrishe he would take it +as a sign that God approved his first intention. If the _Sutlej_ had +sailed--well, that, too, was the leading and the light. + +As they ran into Tilbury Station a train was standing at the departure +platform. The General beckoned to a porter. + +"Do you know if the _Sutlej_ has sailed?" + +"Yes, sir--sailed at ten minutes to twelve. Might catch her at +Southampton, sir, perhaps. There's a good many people as well as you +disappointed in this 'ere train. There's another train back in three +minutes." + +"When is the next train?" + +"Three hours' time." + +The General went to the door of the carriage and looked out; then +retired hastily. He had caught sight of Grogan and Mrs. Grogan and a +number of boys and girls of all ages. Not for worlds would he have let +Grogan see him. The amazement at seeing him, the questions about his +presence there, Grogan's laugh, Grogan's slap on the back, would be more +than the General could bear at this moment. + +"I shall wait for the next train," he said to the astonished porter. The +porter had not thought of Tilbury as a place where the casual visitor +desired to wait for three hours. + +The General remained in the train till the other had steamed out of the +station. When all danger was over he alighted and walked to the hotel of +many partings. He ordered his lunch, a chop and a vegetable, biscuits +and cheese. While his chop was cooking he would stretch his legs, +cramped by that long time in the train. + +He walked along the docks, dodging lorries and waggons, getting out at +the side of a basin, with a clear walk along its edge. It was empty--the +_Sutlej_ had left it only three-quarters of an hour ago. He paced up and +down by the grey water, lost in thought. + +The _Sutlej_ had sailed, ten minutes before the time anticipated. God +had given him the sign. He had turned him from his presumptuous attempt +to be Providence to his Nelly. The General never had been, never could +be, passive. He was made for the activities of life. Yet his religious +ideal was passivity--to be in the hands of God expecting, accepting, His +Will for all things. It was an ideal he had never attained to, and it +was, perhaps, therefore the dearer. + +He was oblivious of the cold, of the creeping water, of the thickening +flakes in the air which nearly blotted out the silent ship the other +side of the basin. He saw nothing but the pointing Finger, the Finger +that pointed away from the course he had marked out for himself. He felt +uplifted, glad, as one who has escaped a great peril. Was his Nelly to +suffer the torture of an engagement to a man who would presently be +every hour in danger of a horrible death? Was she, poor child, to suffer +like Mrs. Sayers? like poor old Mrs. Mordaunt? No. She must be saved +from the possibility of that. + +He would say nothing. He would have to endure the looks she would send +him from under her white eyelids, the looks of wistful entreaty. After +all, he had not _said_ he was going to do anything. He had implied it, +to be sure, but he had not committed himself to anything very definite. +Perhaps Nelly would not discover, for a time at least, the dangerous +service Langrishe had gone on. She was no more fond of the newspapers +than any other young girl. For the moment he was grateful to the Dowager +that she claimed so much of Nelly's time. + +He began to look forward with a fearful anticipation to Nelly's marriage +to her cousin. Something must be settled at once, before she could begin +to grieve over Langrishe. He would be alone, of course, but Nelly would +be in harbour. He did so much justice to Robin that he believed her +happiness would be safe with him. He felt as if he must go home and put +matters in train at once. He was impatient till Nelly was safe. It did +not occur to him that he was, perhaps, once more wresting the conduct of +his daughter's happiness from the Hand in Whose guidance he humbly +trusted. + +He awoke with a start to the fact that he had been more than half an +hour pacing along by the water's edge. He hurried back to the hotel. +Fortunately, his chop was not put on the grill till he returned, and it +was served to him piping hot, with tomatoes and a bottle of Burton. +Rather to his amazement, he enjoyed it thoroughly, but when he had +finished it he had still more than an hour to wait. + +He drove across country to another station, and arrived home early in +the afternoon. During the return journey his mind was quite calm and +unperturbed. He had had the guidance he needed, and now he had only to +let things be--as though it were in his character to let things be! + +He dreaded meeting Nelly's eyes and welcomed the Dowager's presence with +effusion. He suggested to the lady that she should dine, and afterwards +they would visit a theatre--_A Soldier's Love_ at the Adelphi was well +worth seeing, he believed. Lady Drummond accepted, flattered by this +unwonted friendliness. He would hardly let her out of his sight all that +afternoon. She was his safeguard against Nelly's wondering, reproachful +eyes. + +He had to endure those eyes all the next day. Then--the eyes retired in +on themselves, became introspective. It was hardly easier for the +General, that look of a suffering woman in his Nelly's eyes. + +To be sure, poor Nelly had known of that journey to Tilbury just as well +as if she had accompanied him. The only thing she did not know was that +he had failed to see Captain Langrishe. And his silence--the looks of +tender pity he sent her when he thought he was unobserved, what could +they mean but that his mediation had been in vain? For some strange, +cruel reason, although he loved her and he must know he was breaking her +heart, her lover would have none of her. Even the knowledge that he +loved her ceased to be an anodyne in those days. + +Everyone was so good to her. She seemed to have found a way to the +Dowager's arid heart, as her own son had not. The Dowager seemed dimly +aware that Nelly was suffering in some way, and was tender to her. She +came to the General with a proposal. Why should they not all go abroad +together and escape the east winds of spring? The General leaped at it. +Once get Nelly abroad and she would know nothing of what was happening +on the Indian frontier. He, and Nelly and the Dowager. He had not +imagined the Dowager in such a party--yet, he shrank from the prolonged +_tête-à-tête_ with Nell which the trip would have been without the +Dowager's presence. Robin would join them at Easter. They could all +travel home together. + +There was a time of bustle when Nelly and the Dowager were getting their +travelling outfits. A spark of excitement, of anticipation, lit up +Nelly's sad eyes. The General could have hugged the Dowager. + +"Your dear father," the Dowager said to Nelly one day, "how calm he +grows as he turns round to old age! I see in him more and more the +brother my dear Gerald looked up to and reverenced." + +The peacefulness, the good understanding, had their effect, too, on +Nelly. It was good that those she loved should dwell together in amity. +She was in that state that she could not have endured sharpness or +rancour. + +Only Pat shook his head disapprovingly. + +"If he goes on like this," he said, "he'll be goin' to Heaven before his +time. I'd a deal sooner hear him grumblin' about her Ladyship as he used +to do. It 'ud be more natural-like, so it would. Why would we be callin' +him 'Old Blood and Thunder' if 'twas to be like an image he was? Och, +the ould times were ever the best!" + +"He'll come to himself yet," said Bridget more hopefully. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A NIGHT OF SPRING + + +The room was a long bare one, with three deep windows. They were all +open so that the fog and the noises of the street came in freely. It had +for furniture a long office table, an American desk, several +cupboards--the door of one of these last stood open, revealing lettered +pigeon-holes inside. Everywhere there were files, letter-baskets, all +manner of receptacles for papers. There were a number of hard, painted +chairs. An American clock ticked on the mantel-shelf, a fire burned in +the grate behind a high wire screen. The unshaded gas-lights gave the +room a dreary aspect it need not have had otherwise. + +The only occupant of the room was Mary Gray, who sat at a small table +working a typewriter. She had pulled a gas-jet down low over her head, +and the light of it was on her hair, bringing out bronze lights in it, +on her neck, showing its whiteness and roundness. The machine clicked +away busily. Sheet after sheet was pulled from it and dropped into a +basket. The basket was half-filled with the pile of papers that had +fallen into it. + +Suddenly there came a little tap at the door. Mary raised her head and +looked towards it expectantly as she said, "Come in." + +Someone came in, someone whom she had expected to see, although she had +said to herself that she supposed the caretaker of the building had +grown tired of waiting, and was coming to remind her that the church +clock had just struck seven. + +"Ah, Sir Robin," she said, turning about to shake hands with him. "Who +would have thought of seeing you? I am just going home." + +"As I came past this way I looked up and saw your light through the fog. +I thought you would be going home, and that you would let me escort you +to your own door. There is a bit of a fog really." + +"I am glad you did not come out of your way. Thank you. I shall be ready +in a few minutes. You don't mind waiting?" + +"Not at all. May I smoke?" + +"Do. It will be pleasanter than the smell of the fog." + +"Ah! I hadn't noticed the smell. I have a delusion, or do I really +smell--violets?" + +"There are some violets by your elbow. I was wearing them, but they +drooped, so I put them into water to revive them." + +She turned back again to her work, and the clicking of the machine began +anew. He leant to inhale the smell of the violets. Then, with a glance +at her bent head, he drew one from the bunch, and, taking a pocket-book +out of his coat-pocket, he opened it, and laid the violet between two of +its pages. + +While he waited he looked about him. The ugliness of the room did not +affect him. The flaring gas, the business-like furniture, the unhomely +aspect of the place, did not depress him. On the contrary, in his eyes +it was pleasant. He always came to it with a sensation of happiness, +which was not lessened because he felt half-guilty about it. To him the +room was the room which for certain hours of every day contained Mary +Gray. What did it matter if the case was unlovely since it held her? + +Presently the clicking of the machine ceased, and she looked up at him +with a smile. + +"You are very good to wait for me," she said. + +"Am I?" he answered, smiling back at her. "There is not very much to do +to-day. The House is not sitting, and my constituency has been less +exacting than usual." + +She put the cover on her machine, locked up her desk, and then retired +into a corner, where she changed her shoes, putting her slippers away +tidily in a cupboard. She put on her hat, setting it straight before a +little glass that hung in one corner. She got into her little blue +jacket, with its neat collar and cuffs of astrachan. Then she came to +him, drawing on her gloves. + +"I am quite ready now," she said. + +They lowered the gas, and went down the stone steps side by side. At the +foot of the stairs Mary stopped to call into the depths of the back +premises that she was going home, and a woman's voice bade her +good-night. + +It was cold in the street, and there was a light brown fog through which +the street lamps shone yellowly. + +The omnibuses crept by quietly, in a long string, making a muffled sound +in the fog. As they went towards the nearest station a wind suddenly +blew in their faces. + +"It is the west wind," she said. "And it breathes of the spring." + +"There will be no fog to-night," he answered. "See, it is lifting. The +west wind will blow it away." + +"It comes from fields and woods and mountains and the sea," she said +dreamily. + +The fog was indeed disappearing. The gas-jets shone more clearly; the +'buses broke into a decorous trot. The long line of lights came out +suddenly, crossing each other like a string of many-coloured gems. + +Outside the Tube station they paused as though the same thought had +struck both of them. + +"It is like the washing of the week before last," Mary said, as the +indescribable odour floated out to them. + +"Why not take a 'bus?" said he. "The air grows more delicious." + +"Why not, indeed?" she answered. "Except that I shall be so late getting +home. And it will keep you late for your dinner." + +"So it will," he said. "To say nothing of your dinner. I know you had +only sandwiches and tea for lunch. You have told me that when you go +home you make yourself a chafing-dish supper. You must need a meal at +this moment. Supposing--Miss Gray, will you do me the honour of dining +with me?" + +"Will you let me pay for my dinner? I am a working-woman, and expect to +be treated like a man." + +"If you insist. But I hope you will not insist." + +She looked at him for a moment hesitatingly. There was no prudery about +Mary Gray. She had become a woman of the world, and she had had no +reason to distrust the _camaraderie_ of men or to think it less than +honest. + +"Very well, then," she said, "if you will let me pay for your lunch +another time." + +"Why, so you shall," he answered. For a usually grave young man he +laughed with an uncommon joyousness. "You shall give me one day a French +lunch with a bottle of wine thrown in at one-and-sixpence. Mind, I must +have the wine." + +"You shall have the wine. But it isn't good form to talk about the price +of a lunch you are invited to." + +Laughing light-heartedly, they plunged into a labyrinth of dark streets. +The west wind had brought a gentle rain with it now. It was benignant +upon their faces, with a suggestion of grasses and spring flowers +pushing their heads above the earth. They passed by the Soho +restaurants, crowded to the doors. They found one at last in a more +pretentious street. + +Over the dinner they laughed and talked. There was something +intoxicating to Robin Drummond's somewhat phlegmatic nature in their +being together after this friendly fashion. + +"You have a crease in your forehead, just above your nose," he said, +while they waited for their salmon, the waiter having removed the plates +from which they had eaten their _bisque_. "Have the Working Women been +more unsatisfactory than usual to-day?" + +"I was not thinking of the Working Women," she answered. "It is family +cares that are on my mind. Supposing you had seven young brothers and +sisters whom you wanted to help to place out in the world----" + +"Heaven forbid! It's no wonder you look worried. What do you want to do +for them, Miss Gray?" + +"There's Jim. He's seventeen years old. I think he'd make a very good +bank-clerk, but at present he wants to go to sea. There isn't the +remotest chance of his being able to go to sea. The question is whether +he can get a nomination to a bank. It will be quite a step in the social +scale if we can manage it for Jim." + +She looked at Drummond with her frank, direct gaze, and he blushed +awkwardly. + +"I don't know anything at all about your people, or anything of that +sort, Miss Gray, but if I could help----" + +"I don't think you could help." Mary's big mysterious eyes under their +dark lashes, under their beautiful brows, looked at him reflectively. +"You see, you don't know anything about us. I am the eldest of a large +family. The others are my stepbrothers and sisters. I love them dearly, +and I love my stepmother, too. But not like my father--oh, not at all +like my father. I would never have left him only he sent me away. Lady +Agatha was very good to me. She paid me a disproportionate salary. And +besides--after I had been away from them for a time they could really do +very well without me. Cis and Minnie grew up so fast. To be sure, none +of them make up to father for me. But he was really anxious that I +should go. He thought I would be cramped at home, after----" She paused, +and then went on: "He would never think of himself when it was a +question of me." + +What she was saying did not greatly enlighten him. But, without a doubt, +something would come out of the desultory talk by-and-by. + +As he watched her in the light of the electric candle-lamps on the +table, which, sending their shaded light upwards reflected from the +white cloth, made her face luminous in the shadow of her cloudy hair, he +was struck again by a baffling resemblance to someone he had known. Now +and again during the months since they had known each other her face had +seemed familiar; then the likeness had disappeared; he had forgotten to +be curious about it. At this moment the suggestion was very strong. + +They had the top of the 'bus to themselves as they went on westward. At +this hour the traffic was eastward, and the mist of rain saved them from +fellow-travellers. They were as much alone as though they were in a +desert, up there in the darkness at the back of the bus, with the long +line of blurred jewels that were the street lamps stretching away before +them. + +They passed close to the trees overhanging a square, and the branches +brushed them. + +"The sap is stirring in the trees to-night," she said. "Can't you smell +the sap and the earth?" + +"I associate you with the country and green things," he answered +irrelevantly. "Can you tell me, Miss Gray, how it is that I who have +always seen you in London yet always think of you in fields and woods?" + +She laughed with a fresh sound of mirth. + +"We met long ago, Sir Robin," she said. "I have always been wondering +how long it would be before you found out." + +"Where?" + +"Think!" + +A sudden light broke over him. + +"You were the little girl who came with old Lady Anne Hamilton to the +Court. It is nine years ago. I never knew your name. Lady Anne died one +Long Vacation when I was abroad. I did not hear of it for a long time +afterwards. I asked my mother once if she knew what had become of you, +but she did not. Why, to be sure, you are that little girl." + +"Lady Anne was very good to me. She gave me an education. Only for her +the thing I am would not be possible. And I mean to be more than that. +Do you know that I am writing a book?" + +"A novel? Poems?" + +"That is what my father's daughter ought to be doing. No--it is a book +on the Economic Conditions of Women's Work." + +"It is sure to be good, _citoyenne_." + +"I am a revolutionary," she said seriously. "I have learnt so much since +I have been at this work. I have things to tell. Oh, you will see." + +"I remember Lady Anne as the staunchest of Conservatives." + +"Yes, yet she was tolerant of other opinions in her friends. She was +very good to me, dear old Lady Anne." + +"To think I should not have remembered!" + +"I knew you all the time. To be sure, there was your name. I don't think +you ever knew my name. You called me Mary all the afternoon. Do you +remember the puppy you sent me--the Clumber spaniel? He died in +distemper. He had a happy little life. I wept bitter tears over him." + +"Why didn't you tell me before?" + +"I thought I'd leave you to find out." + +"I am a stupid fellow." He leant towards her, and inhaled the scent of +her violets. + +"I don't think I should have guessed it now," he said, "only for the +spring. To think you are Mary!" He lingered over the name. + +"I am sorry about the Clumber. You shall have another when you ask for +it." + +It was a long drive westward. They got down at Kensington Church, and +went up the hill. Close by the Carmelites they turned into a little +alley. The lit doorway of a high building of flats faced them. + +"Now, you must come no farther," she said, turning to him and holding +out her hand. + +"Let me see you to your door," he pleaded. + +"If you will, but it is a climb for nothing." + +"What a barrack you live in!" he said, as they went up the stone steps. + +"It was built for working men originally, but perhaps there is none +hereabouts. It is now chiefly occupied by working women. They are +extremely pleasant and friendly. To be sure, they are West-End working +women. Now, Sir Robin, I must bid you good-bye." + +They were at the very top of the house. The staircase window was wide +open, and the sweet smell of wet earth came in. She had put the +latch-key in the door and opened it--she had turned on the electric +light. Now, as she held out her hand to him in farewell, he caught sight +of the pleasant little room beyond. He had the strongest wish to cross +the threshold on which she was standing; but, of course, it was +impossible. + +"When my cousin comes back from abroad," he said, "I want you to know +each other, Miss Gray. Perhaps you will ask us to tea here." + +"I shall be delighted," she said frankly. + +"You like your quarters?" + +He was oddly reluctant to go. + +"Very much indeed." + +"You are near Heaven." + +"I hear the singing at the Carmelites. I can see the tops of the trees +in Kensington Gardens. To be sure, I ought to live nearer my work. But +these things counterbalance the distance. By the way, do you know that +Mrs. Morres is in town?" + +"I had not heard." + +"She has come up for a week's shopping." + +"Ah! I must call on her. I like her douches of cold water on all our +schemes." + +"So do I." + +He looked at her with a dawning intention in his eyes. Before he could +speak the words that were on his lips the opposite door opened, and a +young woman, wearing an artist's blouse, with close-cropped dark hair +and a frank boyish face, came out. + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Gray, do you happen to have any methylated +spirit?" + +"Good-night, Miss Gray." + +He lifted his hat and went down the stairs. On the next landing he +paused and listened with a smile to the conversation overhead. It +appeared that Mary had only enough methylated spirit for a single +occasion. + +"Then you must come to breakfast with me in the morning," said the other +girl. "Can you oblige me with a few slices of bacon?" + +It was the true communistic life. + +He was smiling to himself still as he walked up the hill homewards. +"Winter is over and past, and the spring is come," he murmured to +himself. And to think that a few hours ago the fog was creeping over the +City! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +HALCYON WEATHER + + +Mrs. Morres was looking benignantly, for her, at Sir Robin Drummond. + +"Well, I must say I'm pleased to see you," she said. "It's very handsome +of you, too, to give up the affairs of the nation for an old woman like +me. How do you suppose things are getting on without you?" + +"The House is not sitting this afternoon. You know it rises for the +Easter vacation to-morrow." + +"On Thursday I go down to Hazels. I wanted that bad person, Mary Gray, +to come with me. She says she has to work at her book. Did you ever hear +such stuff and nonsense? As though the world can't get on without one +young woman's book. I told her she could do it at Hazels. She says she +couldn't--that she'll have to be out all day long. London will not tempt +her out, she says. Is she to go bending her back and dimming her eyes +while the lambs are at play in the fields and the primroses thick in the +woods?" + +"She's an obstinate person, Mrs. Morres. When she has made up her mind +to do a thing----" + +"Ah! you know her pretty well." + +"We first met about nine years ago." + +"Dear me! I had no idea that you were such old friends. I thought you +met first in this house." + +"Lady Anne Hamilton, the old lady who adopted Miss Gray, was my mother's +friend." + +He said nothing about the fact that twelve hours ago he had not known +Mary Gray for the child he had played with for one afternoon, nor of the +long gap between that occasion and their next meeting. Not from any +disingenuousness; but he had a feeling that he liked to keep that +meeting of long ago to himself. + +"Dear me, to be sure you would be interested in Mary. You would know a +good deal about her. Nine years--it is a long time." + +If he had been the most consummate plotter he could not better have +paved the way for the suggestion he was about to make. + +"Put off your return to Hazels till Saturday morning. I want to take you +and Miss Gray into the country for a day on Thursday." + +"Indeed, young man! And wait for the Saturday crowd of holiday-makers! A +nice figure I should be struggling among them." + +"I will be at Victoria to see you off." + +"Oh, you needn't do that." Mrs. Morres turned about with the +inconsequence of her sex. "I've brought one of the maids up with me. She +will take care of me better than most men. She is alarming, this good +Susan, to the people who don't know her. But I thought you were going +abroad?" + +"So I am. Saturday morning will do me very well." + +"How did you know I was in town? No one is supposed to. All the blinds +are down in front and will be till her Ladyship returns." + +"Miss Gray told me. I saw her yesterday." + +She looked at him sharply. His honest, plain face reassured her. A +friendship of nine years, too. What trouble could there possibly arise +after a friendship of nine years? Mary must know that he was all but +engaged to his cousin. + +"Does she approve of the country trip?" + +"I have not asked her. I left that to you to do. She has been shut up in +London all the winter. She needs a breath of country air." + +"So she does. She shows the London winter, though you may not see it. +Very well, you shall take us both into the country on Thursday. Mary +will not dream of refusing me." + +"That is it. She means to spend those six days between Thursday and +Wednesday toiling at her book. I have heard her say that she will spend +Thursday at the British Museum." + +"Stuff and nonsense, she shan't! The world will do just as well without +the book. She must come to Hazels on Saturday. You will help me to +persuade her?" + +"I will do my best. How did you leave Hazels?" + +"Lovely. For the rest, a wilderness of despairing dogs. They will +forgive me if I bring back Mary. By the way, what have you got for me to +do on Friday? If you will keep me in town when all the shops are shut! +Not that it matters. I've finished all my shopping. But am I to spend my +Good Friday here, in this room? London streets are no place for a poor +woman on Good Friday." + +"Will you go to church? There is a service at a church near here, with +Bach's Passion music." + +"I should like to, of all things. Afterwards, perhaps, Mary would give +us tea at her eyrie. You and she must dine with me. She is coming this +evening to dinner. Come back to dinner at half-past seven and help me to +persuade her. I can only give you a chop. Some mysterious person in the +lower region cooks for me. She is the plainest of the plain." + +"It will be a banquet, with you." + +Sir Robin was not a young man who paid compliments easily. When he did +pay one it had always an air of sincerity. Mrs. Morres looked pleased. +She was very fond of Robin Drummond. + +When he and Mary met at the door a few hours later he made a jest about +their dining together again so soon, and they laughed about it--to be +sure, that dinner at the restaurant was a secret, something that did not +belong to the conventional life. There was the air of a little +understanding between them when they presented themselves to Mrs. Morres +in the book-room which she used for all purposes of a sitting-room +during her flying visit to town. It was a pleasant room, with book-cases +all round it filled with green glass in a lattice of brass-work. The +books were hidden by the glass, but it reflected every movement of a +bird or a twig or a cloud outside like green waters. The ceiling was +domed like a sky and painted in sunny Italian scenery. It was not dull +in the book-room on the dullest day. + +"Did you come together?" Mrs. Morres asked curiously. + +"I swear we did not," Sir Robin replied, with mock intensity. "I came +from the east, Miss Gray from the west. We met on your doorstep." + +"You looked as if you were enjoying a joke when you came in." + +"There was time for one between the ringing of the bell and the opening +of the door." + +"Ah, you see, the people downstairs are very old." + +Mary allowed herself to be persuaded to the country expedition next day. +The spring had been calling to her, calling to her to come out of London +to the fields. More, she consented to go to Hazels on the Saturday. The +spring had disturbed her with a delicious disturbance. It was no use +trying to be dry-as-dust since the spring had got into her blood. The +book must wait till she came back. + +On Thursday the exodus from town had not yet begun. They left soon after +breakfast. As Mary hurried from her Kensington flat to Paddington +Station she met the church-goers with their prayer-books in their hands. +It was Holy Thursday, to be sure--a day for solemn thought and +thanksgiving. She hoped hers would not be less acceptable because it was +made in the quietness of the fields. + +It was an exquisite day of April--true Holy Week weather, with white +clouds, like lambs straying in the blue pastures of the sky, shepherded +by the south-west wind. The almond trees were in bloom. They had begun +to drop their blossoms on the pavements, making a dust of roses in +London streets. As they went down from Paddington the river-side +orchards and gardens were starred with the blossom of pear and plum. +Everywhere the birds were singing jocundly. The promise of spring a few +days earlier had been nobly fulfilled. + +The sun shone powerfully as they left the country station and went down +a road set with bare hedges on either side. A week ago there had been +frost. Now there was a grateful odour from the millions and millions of +little spear-heads of grass that were pushing above the ground. On the +banks by the side of the road there were primroses and violets, while +there was yet a drift of last week's snow in the sheltered copses. + +They found an inn by the side of the road. To the back of it lay a belt +of woods. In front was a great stretch of cornfield and pasturage. In +the distance a church-spire and yet other woods. + +There was no village in sight. The village was, as a matter of fact, +lying about its green and velvety common just a little way down the +road. The place was full of the singing of the birds, and of another +sound as sweet, the rushing of waters. A little river ran down from the +higher country and passed through the inn-garden, turning a water-wheel +as it went. The picture on the old sign was of a water-wheel. The inn +was called the Water-Wheel. + +"What a name to think upon!" said Mary, with a sigh, "in a torrid London +August! it sounds full of refreshment." + +"Its patrons would no doubt prefer the Beer-Keg," said Mrs. Morres, and +was reproached for being cynical on such a day. + +While they waited for a meal they explored the delightful inn-garden. It +was not Sir Robin's first visit, and he was able to point out to them +the lions of the place. There was the landlord's aviary of canary-birds, +so hardy that they lived in the open air all the year round. There were +the ferrets in a cage. Not far off, in a proximity which must have +profoundly interested the ferrets, there was an enclosure of white +rabbits. There was a wild duck which had been picked up injured in the +leg one cold winter, and had become tame and followed them about now +from place to place. There were a peacock and a peahen, a sty full of +tiny, squeaking black piglets, hives of bees, all manner of pleasant +country things. A lordly St. Bernard, with deep eyes of affection, +followed Sir Robin as a well-remembered friend. + +"Out in the woods," Sir Robin said, "there is a pond which later will be +covered with water-lilies. The nightingales will have begun now. The +wood is a grove of them. The landlord owned up handsomely when I came +here first that 'they dratted things kept one awake at night.' I was +only sorry they did not keep me. But after the first I slept too +soundly." + +"What did you find to do?" Mrs. Morres asked. + +"Fish. There are plenty of trout in the upper reaches of the river." + +They found their lunch of cold roast beef and salad, rhubarb tart and +cream, delicious. The landlord had some good old claret in his cellar +and produced it as though Sir Robin were an honoured guest. They sat to +the meal by an open window. There were wallflowers under the window. In +a bowl on the table were hyacinths and sweet-smelling narcissi. + +After the meal Mrs. Morres was tired. "Let me rest," she said, "till +tea-time. What did you say was the train? Five-thirty? Will you order +tea for half-past four? It is half-past two now. Go and explore the +woods. I believe I shall go asleep if I'm allowed. The buzzing of the +bees out there is a drowsy sound." + +Mary voted for walking up-stream, and confessed to a passion for +tracking rivers to their sources. They stepped out briskly. She was +wearing a long cloak of grey-blue cloth, which became her. Presently she +took it off and carried it on her arm. Her frock beneath repeated the +colour of the cloak. It had a soft fichu about the neck of yellowed +muslin, with a pattern of little roses. He looked at her with +admiration. He knew as little about clothes as most men, and, like most +men, he loved blue. She did well to wear blue on such a day. The grey of +her eyes took on the blue of her garments, a blue slightly silvered, +like the blue of the April sky. + +As the ground ascended, the stream brawled and leaped over little +boulders green with the water-stain and lichens. There were quiet pools +beside the boulders. As they stood by one they saw the fin of a trout in +the obscurity. + +They met no one. Presently they were higher than the woods and out on a +green hillside. When they first appeared the place was alive with +rabbits, who hurried to their burrows with a flash of white scuts. + +"If we sit down on the hillside we can see the valley," Sir Robin said. +"We can look down into the valley at our leisure. It is filled with a +golden haze. This good sun is drawing out the winter damps. You shall +have my coat to sit on. Wasn't I far-seeing to bring it?" + +He spread the coat, which he had been carrying on his arm, for Mary, and +she sat down on the very edge of the incline. The St. Bernard laid his +silver and russet head on her skirt. They had lost sight of the river +now. It had retired into the woods. When they sat down Sir Robin +consulted his watch, and found that they might stay for nearly an hour. +There was a bruised sweetness in the atmosphere about them, which they +discovered presently to be wild thyme. They were sitting on a bed of it. +He thought of it afterwards as one of the sweetnesses that must be +always associated with Mary Gray, like the smell of violets. The full +golden sun poured on them, warming them to the heart. The bees buzzed +about the wild thyme and the golden heads of gorse. Little blue moths +fluttered on the hillside. The rabbits, lower down the hill, came out of +their burrows again and gambolled in the sunshine. + +"How sweet it all is!" Mary said impulsively. "I shall always remember +this day." + +"And I." + +He plucked idly at the wild thyme and the little golden vetches among +the coarse grass of the hillside. A fold of the blue dress lay beside +him. He touched it inadvertently, and the colour came to his cheek: +unobserved, because he had his hat pulled down over his eyes, and Mary +was sketching for him in detail the plan of her book. It interested him +because it was hers. Her voice sounded like poetry. He had not wanted +poetry. Blue-books and statistics had satisfied him very well, hitherto. +But, to be sure, he had read poetry in his Oxford days. Lines and tags +of it came into his mind dreamily as he listened to her voice. He did +not touch that fold of her gown again. If he was sure--but he was not +quite sure. And there was Nelly. He supposed Nelly cared for him if she +was willing to marry him. If Nelly cared--why, then, he had no right to +think of other possibilities. + +Something had gone out of the glory and enchantment of the day as they +went back down the hillside. Those lambs of clouds had suddenly banked +themselves up into grey fleeces which covered the sun. The wind blew a +little cold. + +"It is the capriciousness of April," said Mary, unconscious of any +change in the mental atmosphere. + +He stopped on the downhill path, took her cloak from her arm, and with +kind carefulness laid it about her shoulders. As he arranged it he +touched one of the soft curls that lay on her white neck, and again a +thrill passed through him. He began to wish that he had not planned this +country expedition, after all. He ought really to have started this +morning for the Continent. Going on Saturday, he would have very little +time to stay. + +On the homeward way Mrs. Morres reproached him with his dulness. What +had come to him? + +He hesitated, glancing at Mary in her corner. Mary had enjoyed her day +thoroughly, and was wearing an air of great content. She was carrying a +bunch of the wild thyme. She had taken off her hat and her cloudy hair +seemed blown about her head like an aureole. She had a delicate, wild, +elusive air. He withdrew his glance abruptly. + +"It is a guilty conscience," he said. "I ought not to come back and dine +with you to-night. I ought to put you into a cab and myself into +another, go home for my bag and take the night-express to Paris. The +House only rises for ten days and I have to be in my place on the +opening night." + +Mary looked up at him with a friendly air of being disappointed. She was +engaged in putting the wild thyme into a bunch, stalk by stalk. Mrs. +Morres began to protest-- + +"Well, of all the deceitful persons! After luring me to spend a Good +Friday in town. To be sure, I shall have Mary. Will you come to the Good +Friday service at St. Hugh's with me, Mary?" + +"I should love to come." + +"Very well, then. Have your bag packed and come back with me to sleep. +We shall get off the earlier on Saturday morning. So we shan't miss you +at all, Sir Robin." + +He looked at her with great contrition. + +"My mother--" he began. + +"To be sure, your mother has first claim. To say nothing of another." + +He coloured. Mary was looking at him with kind interest. Mrs. Morres +sent him a quick glance--then looked away again. + +"To be sure, you must go, Sir Robin," she said, in a serious voice. "I +was only jesting. Ah! here we are! So it is good-bye." + +"Au revoir," he corrected. + +"Well, au revoir. I hope you'll have a very happy time at Lugano. But +you are sure to." + +A moment later they had gone off in their cab, and he was feeling the +blank of their absence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WILD THYME AND VIOLETS + + +While Sir Robin and Mary Gray sat on that English hillside, Nelly and +her father walked on a hilly road above Lugano. The April afternoon was +Paradise. Below, the lake lay blue as a sapphire mirroring a sapphire +sky. The space between them and the lake's edge was tinged with a bloom +of bluish-rose, for all the almond groves were out in blossom. Below +them were drifts of sweet-scented narcissi. All around them lay the +mountains, Monte Rosa silver against the sapphire sky. Below the +fantastic houses clustered to the lake's edge in their little groves and +coppices of green. + +They were talking of Robin's coming. The hour of his arrival was +somewhat uncertain. They might find him at the hotel when they returned, +going home in the evening quietness, when Monte Rosa would be flushed to +rose-pink and the blue sky would die off in splendours of rose and +orange. + +Nelly was certainly looking better. Not a hint had come to her of the +frontier war in which, by this time, her lover must be engaged. The +General starved for his newspapers in these days, if he did not get the +chance of a surreptitious peep at one at the English library, or when +some friendly fellow-guest in the hotel would hand him a belated print +two days old. Nelly had a wild rose bloom in her cheek and a light in +her eye at this moment. Who could look upon such a scene and not praise +the Designer? Not Nelly, certainly. As they paused for the hundredth +time to look she breathed sighs of content and pressed her father's arm +close to hers in a caress. Even though one's lover had been cruel and +had gone away without speaking, it was good to be alive. + +The appealing influence of the season was about them, too. They had just +peeped into a little wayside chapel, where there was a small altar +ablaze with lights set amid masses of flowers. The place was heavy with +sweetness. Here and there knelt worshippers with bent heads. The General +had bowed with a reverent knee, and Nelly had knelt with him before they +had gone out into the blaze of the day again. + +"There are only two armies, after all, Nell," the General had said, +explaining himself. "The army of the Lord and the army of the Prince of +Darkness. Let us rejoice that we have so many fellow-soldiers in the +Lord's army, though we fight in different regiments." + +"To-morrow," said Nelly dreamily, "the lights will be all out and the +little chapel draped in black. There will be the service of the Three +Hours' Agony. Do you think we might come?" + +"I'm afraid the Dowager would be shocked," her father replied hastily. +"She would look upon it as deserting the flag. Many excellent women are +very narrow-minded." + +They went along in silence. At intervals they sat down to enjoy at +leisure the beautiful world about them. They did not say much. There was +little need for talk between two who understood each other so +thoroughly. While they dawdled, half-way round the lake from their +hotel, the sun dropped behind the hills and left them in shadow. It was +time for them to go home. + +As they went along leisurely, Nelly's face, uplifted towards the sky, +seemed to have caught an illumination from it. It was the eve of the +Great Sacrifice. Already the shadow and the light of it lay over the +world. Nelly was thrilled and touched. That visit to the wayside chapel +had set chords vibrating in her heart. Sacrifice for love's sake +appealed to her as it does to all generous, impressionable young souls. +Though her own personal happiness had vanished, gone down under the +world with the _Sutlej_, there was yet the happiness possible of making +those she loved happy. She had understood her father's wistful looks and +tentative speeches. She knew that he desired her happiness to be in her +cousin's keeping. The old days were over, the sweet days before that +other had come, when she and her father had sufficed for each other. +They could never come again, and he wanted her to marry Robin. Robin's +mother, who was good to her, had suggested that she was trying Robin's +patience too far. Why, if she could make them all happy--she was not in +a state of mind to appreciate what marriage with one man while she loved +another was going to cost her--if she could make them all happy, ought +she not to do so? + +"Father!" she whispered. "Father!" + +"What is it, Nell?" + +She rubbed her cheek slowly against his arm, not speaking for a second +or two. + +"Father, I am ready to marry Robin whenever you will." + +The General's heart bounded up with an immense relief. + +"Whenever I will?" he said, with an air of rallying her. "Is it not +rather whenever you will? Poor Robin has been waiting long enough." + +"You are quite sure he wants me: I mean soon?" + +"He'd be a dull fellow if he didn't." + +The General had suddenly a memory of the time when he had called Robin a +dull fellow in his secret heart because he had been content to wait, +endlessly to all appearances. He put the memory away hastily as an +uncomfortable one. + +"To be sure, he wants you soon, Nelly, my dear," he said. "As soon as +your old father can give you up to him. You have always been Robin's +little sweetheart from the time you were a child. He has never thought +of any girl but you." + +He made the speech with a gulp, as though it were distasteful to him. + +"I never thought there was any girl," Nelly said simply. "Robin is not +at all a young man for girls. Only he cares so much for politics. He has +not seemed in any hurry." + +"God bless my soul, to be sure, he is in a hurry. He must be in a hurry. +When you get back to your looking-glass, little Nell, ask yourself +whether it is likely that he should not be in a hurry!" + +He was talking as much to reassure himself as Nelly. To be sure, Robin +must be as eager a lover as it was in his capacity to be. There was +nothing volcanic about Robin. He was steady, sensible, reliable! Yes, +better let the affair be settled at once. June would be a good month for +the wedding. He could go afterwards and take the cure at Vichy for his +gout. Pat could go with him. Perhaps Nelly would take over Bridget and +some of the other servants. Why shouldn't Robin and Nelly have the house +just as it stood? He would make them a deed of gift of it. He could have +a bachelor's flat somewhere near the Parks and the Clubs, with Pat to +look after him. It would be easier for him if the old house sanctified +by many memories were not to be broken up. + +Nelly's exaltation carried her on to Saturday afternoon. Sir Robin had +arrived on the morning of that day while the General and Nelly were out +climbing the lower range of a hill. The Dowager was no climber. More +than that, she had acquired tact and good feeling it seemed in her +latter days, for she left father and daughter very much together. The +General's heart had begun to soften towards her. He had begun to ask +himself how it was that he could have so persistently misjudged her all +those years. If Gerald had liked her well enough to marry her, surely he +could have done her more justice than so to dislike her. + +The Dowager had her son to herself for some hours of the Saturday +forenoon. He had suggested following Nelly and her father up the +mountain track, but she had detained him with a demonstrativeness +unusual in her, which struck him like a jarring note. What had come over +his mother? She had always been a woman of a cold and even harsh manner, +at least to him. To be sure, he had noticed with amazement that she had +been different to Nelly. She ought to have had a daughter instead of a +son. He had no idea that if he had been a dashing soldier he might have +been a far less dutiful son, a far less satisfactory member of society +than he was and yet have awakened a feeling in his mother's breast which +she had never given to him. Now he was embarrassed somewhat by her +playful insistence on her mother's right to her boy for a time. +Playfulness sat as ill on her as could well be imagined, and he was +captious over her raillery on his hurry to be at his cousin's side, +calling it atrocious taste in his irritable mind, he who had never been +irritable, to whom it would have seemed the worst of taste to question +good taste in his mother. + +More than one person was irritable with the Dowager that day. The +General was furiously irritable over the transparent man[oe]uvre by +which she packed off the young people together. + +"Enough to spoil the whole thing," he thought, pursing his lips and +pushing out his eyebrows as he did when he was annoyed. "Indelicate! +Stupid! I'd rather have her when she was disagreeable. My poor Nell! She +did not look very happy as she went. I had a great mind to go with her +and spoil things, after all." + +The cousins found their way to Nelly's favourite haunt, the little +coppice of low almond trees with the troops of narcissi and violets and +primroses colouring all the brown earth. They went into the little +chapel together. It smelt of incense after the ceremonies of the +morning. The mournful black had been removed. There were flowers on a +side-table, and the sacristan was setting the candlesticks on the fair +white cloth which he had just laid along the altar. The scents in the +woods at home had been thin and faint by these. Standing with his hat in +his hand at the threshold of the little chapel, Robin Drummond had a +memory of the scent of wild thyme. + +He was not one to hesitate when he had made up his mind. His mother had +told him that Nelly was waiting, ready for the word which might have +been hers any time those two or three years back. Her father thought the +time had come to arrange a date for their marriage. His mother, too, was +anxious to see him settled. Neither she nor the General was young any +longer. They had a right to look upon their children's happiness for the +years that were left to them of life. + +The young people were high on a mountain path, where few were to be met +with except an occasional Englishman climbing like themselves, or the +goatherds with their little flocks. He had helped her up a steep bit of +climbing. The exertion had brought an unwonted colour to her face. Her +hand lay in his, soft and warm. His closed on it and held it. It was the +hand of one who had never done anything toilsome in her life, the hand +of a petted darling. He remembered another hand, thin, brown, capable. +None of Mary's later years of ease had given her the hand of a woman of +leisure. It was the hand of a comrade, a helpmate. Nelly's hand +fluttered in his and was suddenly cold. + +"Well, Nell," he said, "do you know what I came here in the mind to ask +you?" + +"Yes." He saw the quick rise and fall of her bosom; he noticed the +almost terrified look of her eyes. Was that how women showed their happy +agitation when their lovers claimed them? Poor little Nell! How easily +frightened she was! She had turned quite pale. He would have to be very +good to her in the days to come. + +"Haven't you kept me waiting long enough, little girl?" he went on with +a tenderness which might easily have passed for a lover's. "I've been +very patient, haven't I? But now my patience has come to an end. When +are you going to fix a date for our marriage?" + +"We have been very happy," began Nelly with trembling lips. + +"Not so happy as we are going to be. God knows, Nell, I will do my best +to make you happy, and may God bless my best!" + +As he said it the scent of some little plant, bruised beneath his feet, +rose to his nostrils, sharply aromatic. It was the wild thyme, the +fragrance of which had hung about him those few days back, no matter how +he tried to banish it. + +"I will be very good to you, Nelly, if you can trust me with yourself." + +It was not the least bit in the world like the love-making of Nelly's +dreams. To be sure, he was good and kind, the dear, kind old Robin he +had always been. She was grateful that he was not more lover-like +according to her ideals. If he had taken her in his arms and kissed her +passionately like that other--she smelt lilies of the valley where Robin +Drummond smelt the wild thyme--she could not have endured it. As it was, +she answered him sweetly. + +"I know you will be good to me, Robin. When were you ever anything but +good?" + +Then he kissed her, a light kiss that brushed her lips. He felt his own +shortcomings as a lover when he saw the blood rush tumultuously to her +face, cover even her neck. Why, she must care for him with some passion +to blush like that for his kiss. He had no idea that it was the memory +of another kiss which had caused that wild flush of colour. + +"Well, Nell, when is it to be?" he asked, trying to galvanise himself +out of his coldness, trying to make the pity and tenderness which she +awoke in him take the place of passion. + +"When you will, Robin." + +"You will never repent it, God helping me," he said again. + +They came back, as they were expected to, with things settled between +them. Robin had consulted a calendar in his pocket-book and named a +date--Thursday, 23rd of July. He would be free then. The House would +have risen and he would be able to devote himself to his honeymooning +with a clear mind. He had not asked for an earlier date, but it did not +occur to Nelly to wonder at that. She was relieved to find it so far +off. Already she thought of the time between as a respite, the "Long +day, my Lord!" of those condemned to death. + +The Dowager saw nothing wrong with the date. They could wander about the +Continent leisurely, coming home early in June to prepare Nelly's +wedding-clothes. The General, after his first irritation had passed, had +brought himself to tell her of his plan about the house. She approved +graciously as she thought. It was very generous of the General. To be +sure, Robin must have a town house now he was married. Sherwood Square +was a little out of the way and quite unfashionable. Still, it was a +fine house in an excellent situation to balance those drawbacks. And of +course it must be new-papered and painted and modern conveniences placed +in it. That could be done while the young couple were away honeymooning. +Robin must be on the telephone, of course. That was indispensable. And +the furniture must be fresh-covered, so much of it as they decided to +keep. A deal of it was old-fashioned and had better go to a sale-room. +New carpets too. Already the Dowager was making calculations of what it +was going to cost the General. She was capable of a certain grim +enjoyment in the spending of other people's money. + +"Do you propose to live with them, ma'am?" the General asked at last, in +a constrained voice. + +She looked at him in amazement. + +"Why, to be sure. Poor child, she will need someone beside her. Those +servants of yours, Denis, they've had their own way too much. I've no +doubt there's a terrible leakage in the establishment." + +"If you propose to live with them, ma'am," the General went on, bursting +with fury, "I don't give up my house at all. Robin can find his own +town-house. The servants have done very well for me and Nelly. So have +the chairs and tables and carpets. I'd nearly as soon send my own flesh +and blood to an auction-room." + +The Dowager was alarmed. She tried to propitiate the General after her +usual manner towards him. It was as though she tried to distract a +froward child. + +"Dear me," she said, "dear me! I didn't mean to offend you, Denis. The +house is shabby. Those dogs have always sat in the chairs and on the +carpets. I only thought that we might put our heads together for the +good of the young people." + +"I'm a Dutchman if we will, ma'am!" shouted the General. "As for the +dogs, did you intend to exclude them, too, from the fine new house? +You'd never teach them not to sit in chairs at this time of their +lives." + +This outbreak was followed by the usual fit of repentance, in which the +General reproached himself for his hastiness. To be sure, he had been +annoyed that the wedding should have been put off for so long. In his +haste he had said derogatory things about Robin in his heart, which was +unreasonable. The fellow was a Member of Parliament and had to stick to +his post, to stick to his post like a soldier. Yet, there would be all +those weeks of June and July when bad news might come any day about +Langrishe: and Nell would be in London and would hear of it. + +So, although the thing had come about which he desired, the General was +not happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE + + +It was the latter end of April when Sir Robin Drummond presented himself +again in the big bare room where Mary Gray transacted the business of +her Bureau. The windows were wide open now, and the dull roar of the +distant street traffic came in. It had been a showery day, and he had +noticed as he came up the stairs the many marks of muddy feet which +showed that business at the Bureau was brisk. The women were coming at +last to be organised, to learn a spirit of _camaraderie_, to see that +their good was the common good, to have hope for a future which would +not be always starvation and deprivation, sufferings in cold and heats, +intolerable miseries crowding upon each other. + +He came up the stairs, looking sadder and sterner than was his wont. He +remembered how all last winter he had run up those stairs like a +school-boy, being so glad at last to get to the hour he had desired all +day. As he passed up the staircase now he looked at the walls, +distempered a dirty pink. Outside Mary's door they were adorned by the +effusions of amateur artists, the children of the working women, +messenger boys, casual urchins, with the desire of their kind for +scribbling. It was all quite unlovely, yet it had made him happy to come +there. It was a happiness that he had had no right to and now it must be +relinquished. This was the last time he should come after this intimate +fashion. + +He turned the handle of the door and went in, rather dreading to find +Mary engaged with other visitors; but she was alone. She turned round +from her desk as he came in, and, jumping up at sight of him, she came +to meet him with an outstretched hand. + +"Congratulate me," she said. "The book is finished and accepted. +Strangmans have taken it. They took only a week to decide. I am wild +with pride and joy. Maurice Ilbert is one of their readers. He got it to +read and recommended it enthusiastically. They are to publish it in +June. Wasn't it generous of him, because there is so little of it he can +agree with?" + +"Oh, Ilbert's conscience is pretty elastic, I should say, and he can +agree with many things," Sir Robin answered. He felt vaguely annoyed +that Ilbert should have had anything to do with Mary or her book. Ilbert +was one of the younger school of Tories, a free-lance he called himself, +handsome, conceited, immensely clever, a golden youth with an air of +Oxford and the Schools added to him. He was one of the youngest members +of Parliament, and was gifted with a dazzling and impertinent wit. Sir +Robin had occasionally smarted under Ilbert's sallies. He was a target +for them, with his serious and simple views, his lean air of Don +Quixote. + +Mary looked at him reproachfully, as though the speech grieved her. + +"He is very generous," she repeated. "He has come to see me. I found him +most sympathetic. It is not a question of parties. He thinks awfully +well of the book. He says it will stir the public conscience. To be +sure, it is written out of experience, just the plain story of things as +they are. I have learned so much since I began this work." + +He had got over his first ill-temper, and now he spoke gently. + +"I am sure it is a good book," he said. "I have always felt that you +would make a good book of it because you know. Ilbert is a very capable +critic." + +He did Ilbert justice with some difficulty. He had a sharp thought of +Ilbert coming in and out as he had been used to, when he should come no +more. For the first time in his life, which had had no room for +self-consciousness, he compared himself with another man, handsome, +debonair, and remembered the lean visage over which mornings he passed +the razor, dark, lantern-jawed, almost grotesque. It was the only aspect +of himself he knew, the one which was presented to him when he shaved. + +"Now you are like yourself," Mary said sweetly. "It was not like you to +throw cold water on my pleasure." + +He turned away his head from her reconciled eyes. She was making what he +had come to say doubly hard for him. + +"I want to tell you something," he said. "I should like you to hear it +from me first, because you have been so good a friend to me. I have +spoken to you of my cousin, Nelly. I wanted you to be her friend. +Well--I am to marry my cousin in July." + +There was silence for a moment after he had said it, a silence broken +only by the ticking of the noisy clock on the mantelpiece, by the sounds +of the street outside. + +"There has been an implicit engagement between my cousin and myself," he +went on as though he set his teeth to it. "I couldn't tell you when it +began. It was made for us. I was always ready to be bound by it. She is +as sweet a thing as ever lived; but sometimes I have thought that +perhaps, perhaps, the cousinly closeness would make the other tie a +difficult thing for Nelly to accept. I was wrong. She has no desire to +break through that implicit bond." + +He was making an explanation, and Mary Gray was not the girl to +misunderstand him. + +"I am very glad," she said cheerfully, "very glad. I hope you will be +very happy. I am sure that you will be." + +He looked at her with relief, which was not altogether agreeable. He had +not done her any wrong after all. She was not angry with him. But, to be +sure, why should she be? It was unlikely that she would have taken more +than a friendly interest in him. He mocked at himself, and thought of +his harsh uncomeliness. If he had been Ilbert now his conduct of all +this winter past would have been unpardonable. But Ilbert and he were +made in a different mould. Oddly, the thought did not comfort him--was a +bitter one, rather. + +"Won't you sit down and tell me about it?" Mary said, her eyes looking +at him frankly and kindly. "I am not at all busy. The business of the +Bureau is pretty well over for the day, and I can finish my proofs at +home. Do, Sir Robin." + +She pushed a chair towards him, and he sat down in it. He felt that he +ought to go. It was a concession to his own weakness that he stayed. And +he had no inclination at all to talk about his engagement. He tried to +say something, tried to imagine what a man happily engaged to be married +would find to say to a sympathetic woman-friend about it. He could think +of nothing, only that so far as he could see there was no consciousness +in the serious bright eyes that watched him. To be sure he ought to be +glad. He would be the most miserable hound on earth if he wished her to +be unhappy because he was marrying his cousin. Yet he was not glad of +that ready sympathy. + +"Well," she said at last, "you have nothing to tell me." + +"What can I say"--he laughed awkwardly--"that I have not already said? +We have been brought up like brother and sister, but our elders always +expected us to marry when we should be old enough. We have been taking +it easy, Nell and I; thought there was plenty of time, you know." + +"And at last you have decided that the plenty of time is up?" she said, +filling the gap in his speech. Her eyes were wondering now. It was a +strange thing to her that lovers should take it easy. + +"Yes, that was it." + +"Of course, I understand now why you felt you had to go that Thursday in +Holy Week. It was very good of you to give us so much of your time." + +"You didn't tell me how you got on, what you did," he said eagerly. He +was glad to escape from the discussion of his too intimate affairs. +"What did you do on Good Friday, after all?" + +"Mrs. Morres spent the day with me. It was a lovely day. We went to the +service at St. Hugh's. The music was wonderful. Afterwards we sat by the +open window and talked. My window-box was full of daffodils. They are +just over now. Mrs. Morres said it was like the country. Afterwards I +locked up the flat, put the key in my pocket, discovered a hansom--it +wasn't easy, but 'Tilda, who comes in to tidy up for me every day, +managed it. Her young man is a hansom-driver. I stayed the night at the +Square, and we went down to Hazels next morning." + +"Was it good?" + +"Exquisite. I finished the book there. We had miraculous weather. I was +able to work out of doors in the very same green garden where her +Ladyship and I worked at the novel last year. The dogs used to sit all +around me: and I believe the birds remembered me. I am sure I recognised +one robin. I came back like a lion refreshed, with the full copy of the +book done up in my portmanteau. Since then I have been enjoying the +sweets of a mind at ease." + +"You look it." + +She did, indeed, look like a flower refreshed. She was wearing a soft +grey gown with a little good, yellowed lace about the shoulders. The +lace had been a gift from Lady Anne. It gave the final touch of +distinction to Mary's air. She had the warm, pale complexion that goes +well, with grey, and her hair seemed to have more than usual of gold in +it. Standing against the light it was blown out like a little aureole +full of stars. He had thought that he could like her in nothing so well +as her dark blue frock, but now he thought that grey should be her only +wear. + +"What time do you leave?" he asked, glancing at the clock. + +"Not for a long time yet. It is only half-past five. People come in and +out here up to quite late. I foresee that my hours will be later and +later." + +"You mustn't let them take too much of your time. You must have time for +exercise, for meals, for rest, for your friends----" + +"I am so profoundly interested in the work that I don't grumble. As for +my friends, they can see me here. For exercise I walk most of the way +between Kensington and this, either coming or going. Society is not +likely to claim me--at least, not in her Ladyship's absence. My few +friends can find me here." + +It was on his lips to ask her to let him walk part of the way home with +her. He might have this last pleasure since he was coming here no more, +at least not in the old way. But, as though her words had been a +challenge, there was a clatter of wheels and horses in the narrow street +below. + +"A carriage," Mary said. "It will be one of the fine ladies who are +interested in philanthropy and politics." + +There was a rustle of silks and murmur of voices coming up the stairs. +Sir Robin sat holding his hat in one hand, vaguely annoyed. Why should +one of those meddlesome fine ladies choose for the hour of her empty, +unimportant visit his last hour with Mary Gray? + +He sat irritated, shy, awkward, his feelings faithfully reflected in his +face. The door opened. A lady came in whom he had occasionally met in +drawing-rooms, a slight, tall woman, with a brilliant brunette face. A +delicate perfume came with her entrance. She was finely dressed, as fine +as a humming-bird, and it became her. She looked incredibly young to be +the mother of the slim youth who followed her. The youth was Maurice +Ilbert. His mother, Mrs. Ilbert, was well known as one of the most +brilliant and exclusive hostesses in fine London circles. Now she was +holding Mary's two hands in her own grey-gloved ones. + +"I insisted that my son should bring me to see you, Miss Gray," she was +saying with _empressement_. "I hope you will excuse my descending on you +like this. But I positively had to. This wonderful book of yours--my boy +has been talking of it every hour we have been alone. It is such a +pleasure to meet you. Ah--Sir Robin Drummond, how do you do? Are you +also privileged to know about the wonderful book?" + +To Robin Drummond's mind Ilbert's smile and nod had something amused, +mocking in them. He had acknowledged the greeting with the curtest of +nods. + +Now he got up, shook hands awkwardly with Mrs. Ilbert, and made his +farewells to Mary Gray. It was sheer ill-temper drove him out as soon as +they had come. He had wanted to ask Mary if he might bring Nelly when +she returned to town. He had wanted ... a good many other things. But +now he stalked away from her presence with fury in his heart. If the +Ilberts were going to take her up!--to exploit the book! The Ilberts +belonged to the young Tory party which his soul detested, or he said so +in his wrath; as a matter of fact, he had not many detestations, and in +the matter of politics he had no personal rancours. Yet at the moment he +thought he had, and fancied that a part of his indignation was because +Mary Gray, who had learnt in the Radical school, was going to be made +much of by advanced Tories. As he sat in his hansom, "stepping westward" +into the heart of the sunset, he bit the ends of his moustache, and it +was like chewing the cud of bitterness. Mary Gray had expanded to answer +the genial warmth of Mrs. Ilbert's manner as a flower opens to the sun. +It was not in her to be ungracious, and Mrs. Ilbert was a charming +woman. + +And now he asked himself what was he going to do for the next month or +six weeks till his mother and Nelly came home? All the winter he had +been in the habit of seeing Mary Gray two or three times a week. He had +been home a week from Lugano, and he had kept away; and all the time +something stronger than himself had seemed to be tugging at him to take +the old familiar road. He had found it a hard struggle to keep away for +those ten days. And how was he going to do it for all those weeks to +come? He had always had so much to say to her--or, at least, there had +always been things he wanted to say, for in his most intimate moments he +was naturally rather silent. + +For a second his thoughts escaped his control, and settled on the +pleasantness that bare ugly work-a-day room had meant to him all the +winter through. The sodden winter streets, swept by bitter winds, +horrible in fog and snow, through which he had hurried on his way had +had something heavenly about them. "Ah, le beau temps passé!" + +He pulled himself together with a sharp shock of reproach. He was to +marry Nelly in less than three months' time, and he was an honourable +man. When Nelly was his wife he meant that every thought of his heart +should belong to her. He must see Mary Gray no more. Yet as he pushed +the thought of her away from him it came to him that another man might +find the ugly gas-lit room, the wet winter streets with their bawling +crowds and flaring lights, something of the same magical world that he +had found them. Supposing that man were Ilbert? Well, supposing it were +so, what business had he to resent it? But however he might ask himself +rhetorical questions, the jealousy of the natural man swept over him in +passion and fury. He said to himself that now he knew why he had always +hated Ilbert. It was a prevision of this hour. + +And at the moment the General was offering up his heartfelt thanks that +Nelly's happiness was secure in the keeping of one so steady and +reliable, if rather dull and slow, as Robin Drummond. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TWO WOMEN + + +The travellers came home the first week of June. During the weeks that +had come and gone since Easter they had wandered about as the fancy took +them. Rome, Florence, Genoa, Venice. They followed a path of wonders; +but, somewhat to her father's dismay, Nelly did not prove the passionate +pilgrim he had expected. She looked on listlessly at the wonder-world. +Now that her first exaltation had died away it did not seem so simple a +matter to make others happy. There was no royal road, she discovered, to +the happiness of others any more than to her own. + +Her father said to himself that Nell would be all right as soon as the +wedding was over. He had not come to the point of thinking yet that +marriage with Robin Drummond was not the way the Finger of God had +pointed out to him. It was impossible not to notice Nelly's listless +step and heavy eyes. The Dowager put down these things to ordinary +delicacy, something the girl would outgrow. + +"She wants a husband's care," she said. "To be sure, my dear Denis, you +have done your best for her. But what, after all, could you know about +girls?" + +"As much as Robin Drummond, ma'am," the General said, with a growl; and +was not placated by the Dowager's tolerant smile. + +He was at once glad and sorry when the weeks were over. He dreaded, for +one thing, going back to London where Nelly might hear news of Godfrey +Langrishe. To be sure, he had acted entirely for her happiness, yet he +had an idea that Nell might be angry with him for keeping things from +her if she found out that Langrishe's regiment was engaged in the deadly +frontier war. He had been so used to being perfectly frank with her that +his reservation galled him. + +He had studied with attentiveness the columns of such papers as had come +his way, dreading to find Langrishe's name among the casualties. +Hitherto it had not occurred, and for that he was deeply grateful. If +there had been news he must have betrayed it to Nelly by his eyes and +his voice. + +"I wish we could have stayed longer," she said to him on the eve of +their departure from Italy. + +"And I, Nell." + +"Oh," she looked at him in wonder. "I thought you were keen to be gone." + +"Is it likely?" he asked with playful tenderness, "that I should be +anxious to shorten the time in which you are mine and not Robin +Drummond's?" + +They were alone, and she turned and put her head on his shoulder. + +"I shall always be yours," she said. "And I think marriage and giving in +marriage a weariness of the spirit." + +"Not really, Nell?" The General looked at her golden head in alarm, but +already she was reproaching herself. + +"Never mind, dear papa," she said. "I didn't altogether mean it. Poor, +kind Robin! What a very ungrateful girl I am to you all!" + +As soon as they got back the Dowager engaged her in a whirl of shops and +dressmakers, and for that the General was grateful. He resorted to +man[oe]uvres in those days to keep the newspapers out of Nelly's way +that revealed to himself hitherto unsuspected depths of cunning. He +opened the papers with a tremor. The orange and green and pink bills of +the evening newspapers stuck up where Nelly could see them, laid on the +pavement almost under her feet, brought his heart into his mouth. If +they could only tide over the dangerous time, and Nelly be married and +gone off on her leisurely honeymoon! Langrishe might almost fade out of +her mind, become at least a gentle memory, before anything could happen +to him: or the deadly little dragging war might be over and Langrishe +have carried out a whole skin. + +It was the height of the season and Nelly had her social engagements as +well as the preparations for her wedding. As often as was possible Robin +Drummond put in an appearance, but the House was sitting and much of his +time was taken up. He looked rather more hatchet-faced than of old. +Once, sitting in the Strangers' Gallery of the House, the General heard +someone say as Robin was about to speak: "Who is that careworn-looking +young man?" Careworn, indeed! The General fumed and fretted over it, the +more because it fell in with a certain secret thought he had had once or +twice. Robin had always been somewhat too much of an old head on young +shoulders to please his uncle. To be sure, he had fed on Blue Books and +slept on statistics, yet his engagement to a lovely girl like Nelly +ought to have made him look happier. It was indecent in the +circumstances, that's what it was, that anybody, with the remotest +justification for the epithet, could call him careworn. + +Once Robin on an afternoon when the House was not sitting called for his +cousin and carried her off in a hansom without saying where he was +taking her to. That was something of which the General heartily +approved. If Robin had done it oftener his opinion of him would have +gone up immensely. He rubbed his hands while he asked the Dowager what +Mrs. Grundy would say to such doings. "Supposing they made a runaway +match of it, ma'am, where should we be?" he asked cheerfully. To which +the Dowager replied that Robin would never think of anything so silly. +Why should he, when the wedding was fixed for the twenty-third and +everything ordered, even the bridesmaids' dresses and the wedding-cake? +"Perhaps for that reason," replied the General. But this was a dark +saying to the Dowager. + +The visit that afternoon was to Mary Gray. Even Nelly had heard of the +book which Sir Michael Auberon had praised so highly, which the +newspapers had declared to be more interesting than any novel. She had +roused herself to be interested in the visit, to talk, to ask questions, +to look about her, as they drove into the east, instead of gazing +inwards with that introspective glance which had given her eyes of late +the beauty of mystery, making them larger and darker than they had been +in the old days. + +She was exquisitely dressed, in a long cloak of cream lace over an +Indian muslin frock, and an airy hat of chiffon and feathers. She had +put on her best for her outing with Robin, her visit to Robin's friend. +It was one of the sweet things she was always doing, with an intention +in her own mind to make up for some lack or other which certainly her +lover had not felt. When she alighted in the busy street people stared +as though they had seen a white bird of Paradise; and coming into Mary +Gray's room with a basket of roses in her hand she looked like a bride. + +Now, at least, she wore the pilgrim air. She looked curiously about the +unlikely place which housed the wonderful woman as she set down her +roses, then back at Mary herself. Mary had come to meet her with +outstretched hands. Her bright look at Robin Drummond was full of +sympathetic admiration, of felicitation. She kissed Nelly warmly. She +was not an effusive person, and nothing had been further from her +thoughts than kissing, but her heart went out at once to this charming +girl. + +"_How_ good of you to come to see me!" she said, pressing Nelly's hands +in hers. "Into the east, too! And you must be so busy just now." + +"I have been longing to see you," Nelly responded. "Robin has talked so +much about you." At that moment Nelly had no doubt that he had talked. +"And I wanted to see you here, in your ordinary life. Robin says you +will not be here much longer--that there will be an official position +found for you. And it was here that 'Creatures of Burden' was written!" + +"Nearly all here," Mary said, smiling down at the young enthusiast. + +Robin Drummond stood aside, in one of his characteristically awkward +attitudes, his hat in his hand, watching them. He was not thinking +sufficiently of himself to feel awkward, although he looked it. He was +thinking of those two dear women, as he called them to himself, +objurgating himself for his unworthiness to be the kinsman and lover of +one, the friend of the other. + +He had never seen Nelly look like that before. Her air of worship was +charming. Now she let Mary Gray's hands fall while she went swiftly to +the table on which she had deposited her beautiful red roses. "I brought +them for you," she said, offering them to Mary Gray. + +"How delicious! How sweet of you!" + +The smell of the roses was in the room. It might have been the aura of +the two exquisite women, he thought. Nelly had come in carrying a little +whiff of scent that went with her, as much a part of her as the soft +rustling of her garments. He closed his eyes and there came to his +memory, sweet and sharp, the odour of wild thyme. Not a second of time +had passed when he opened them again. Mary was still praising her roses. +She was holding them to her face, leaning towards Nelly as she did so. +Her expression was more than kind: it was tender. She put down her +basket of roses and took Nelly's hands between hers. For a moment she +held them against her breast before she relinquished them. She spoke +with a little tremor in her voice. Why was it that Robin Drummond +thought suddenly of the nightingale who leans his breast upon a thorn? + +In an instant the thrill in the atmosphere had passed. She was bustling +about to make them tea, if her soft, quiet movements could be called +bustling. She brought a kettle from the unpainted deal cupboard which +housed her utensils of every day. She disappeared for a few seconds and +returned with the kettle full of water and set it on the gas-stove. She +pushed the papers away from one end of the table and covered it with a +dainty tea-cloth. She brought out cups and saucers of thin Japanese +porcelain, some sugar, a loaf and butter, a box of biscuits. While she +set her table she went on talking and smiling at them. The kettle began +to sing on the fire. + +"Ah!" she said, with a sudden thought. "The milkman will not call for an +hour yet. What are we to do?" + +"Let me go and forage," said Drummond eagerly. + +"The nearest dairy is a good bit off." + +"Trust me to find one." + +When he had gone the two girls sat down and looked at each other. No +wonder she was beloved, Mary thought to herself, gloating over Nelly's +golden head, her blue eyes with the dark lashes, her lovely colouring, +her innocent mouth. She had a poor opinion of her own beauty and rarely +looked in a glass, but she was none the less generous to beauty in +others. + +"And you are very happy?" she asked. + +She had an inclination to put her arms about Nelly Drummond as though +she were a beautiful child. She was so glad Robin had remembered to +bring her at last. It had been strange and lonely when he had ceased to +come as he had been used to. It had been so pleasant to look up when his +tap came at the door and to see his plain, pleasant face looking at her +with a friendly smile. She had grown used to his visits all that winter +through; and when they had ceased abruptly she had missed them more than +she cared to acknowledge to herself. She had an impulse to take Nelly's +hand to her breast and hold it there for comfort. + +"And you are very happy?" she said again. + +She was prepared for a happy girl's outpourings. What she was not +prepared for was the sudden shadow that fell on Nelly's face, the +weariness, as though she had been brought back to the thought of +something disagreeable. A sudden wintriness went over her charming face. +The eyes drooped, the lips trembled and were steadied with an effort. + +"I ought to be very happy," she said. "Everyone is good to me. I have +the dearest old father in the world and Robin is so kind and good. I +ought to be very happy and to make other people happy." + +But she was not happy! Mary stared at the golden head with incredulity. +For the moment Nelly's mask--a transparent one enough at best--with +which she faced the world was down. No happy girl had ever spoken so, +looked so. And it wanted only a few weeks to her marriage! + +Mary, no more logical than women less intellectual than she, felt as her +first impulse a coldness, chilling her heart that had been so warm +towards the girl Robin Drummond had chosen. The chill must have reached +Nelly's delicate apprehension, for she looked up in a startled way. + +"Robin promised me your friendship," she began. + +"And, to be sure, it is yours," Mary Gray said, still wondering at the +inexplicable thing that Robin Drummond's promised wife could have secret +cause for unhappiness. She had no further inclination to caress the girl +for whom she had been passed by. "We are going to be great friends," she +said with a cold sweetness. + +Then the kettle boiled over and created a diversion. While Mary was +still mopping up the pool it had made on the floor Sir Robin returned. +His voyage of discovery had not been in vain. He had indeed chartered a +hansom to make it, and had brought back fascinating things in the way of +cream and tea-cakes and other dainties. As he came in he glanced at the +two whom he hoped to see friends. A shadow rested on Nelly's face. He +saw nothing amiss with Mary Gray as she went to and fro, busy with the +little meal, and had no fault to find with her words as they parted. + +"We are going to be great friends, Miss Drummond and I," she said. + +But the note of the nightingale that leans his breast on the thorn, the +note of self-sacrifice and yearning tenderness had gone out of her +voice. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +LIGHT ON THE WAY + + +It wanted three weeks to her wedding when one day Nelly suddenly came +upon Mrs. Rooke in one of the narrow, fashionable streets south of +Oxford Street. Mrs. Rooke was coming out of a florist's shop, and she +was carrying a sheaf of lilies in her hand. For one second she looked as +though she would have turned aside and avoided Nelly. Then she came +straight on with a little unfriendly uplifting of her white chin. + +She might have passed with a bow if Nelly had not stopped straight in +her path. + +"How d'ye do?" she said coldly. "What a delightful day! I had no idea +you were back. But to be sure ... I must congratulate you. It is next +month, is it not?" + +"Yes; it is next month," Nelly said with stiff lips. "The twenty-third +of July, to be accurate. I have wondered about you. I hope Mr. Rooke is +well and Cuckoo and Bunny." + +Bunny was the youngest hope of the Rooke household, a wise, fat, +golden-haired child, who had taken a huge fancy to Nelly. At the mention +of his name his mother faltered. She had been used to swear by Bunny's +sagacity. Bunny had been fond of Nelly Drummond; and there had been a +time when Bunny's mother had referred to that fact as though it were +Nelly's patent of nobility. + +"Cuckoo is at school. Bunny hasn't been very well. Those east winds in +May caught him. I had a horrible fright about him. Imagine +Bunny--Bunny--choking with croup! I thought I should have gone mad!" + +For the moment she had forgotten Nelly's offences, and only remembered +that she had been Bunny's friend. Nelly looked back at her as aghast as +herself. + +"Croup! I never thought of such a thing," she responded. "He has never +had it before, has he?" + +"Never. That was why I was so terrified. I didn't know what to do. +There, don't look so frightened about it! It is over--weeks ago. Indeed, +the next day he was about, as well as ever. I should never be so +frightened again. It was the horrible novelty of it." + +That frightened look in Nelly's eyes had softened the little woman's not +very hard heart. + +"I wish I had known," said Nelly. "I have wanted to come to see Bunny. I +brought him a toy from Paris--a lamb that walks about by itself." + +"Ah! you were thinking of him!" + +There was complete reconciliation now in the mother's voice and eyes. +How could she hate the girl who loved Bunny and had remembered to bring +him from Paris a lamb that walked about by itself? She put an impulsive +hand on Nelly's arm. + +"Come home with me and see him. You are not very busy? You can spare the +time?" + +Nelly was on her way to keep a dress-making appointment, but she felt +that not for worlds would she have said so. She flushed up quite +happily. That moment of hostility on Mrs. Rooke's part had chilled her +sensitive soul. + +"Might I call at Sherwood Square for the lamb, do you think?" she asked +diffidently. + +"To be sure you may. And I'll tell you what--stay to lunch with me. +There'll be nobody but ourselves, of course. It comes to me now that I +haven't seen you for centuries." + +"Yes; I should like to stay for lunch, thank you." + +Mrs. Rooke rather wondered at the pale determination which came over +Nelly's soft face, succeeding the flush of a minute before. It did not +occur to her that Nelly had been pushing away from her with both hands +during the weeks since her return the temptation which at this moment +was offered to her. Nelly was only too conscious of the strength of her +desire to hear something of Godfrey Langrishe. + +It was a feeling she did not dare look in the face. If she had had any +idea at the time she agreed to marry Robin that she was going to be +haunted by the thought of another man she would never have agreed. Even +of late there had been moments when her common-sense had whispered in +her ears, protesting against the folly of marrying one man when another +had so taken possession of her thoughts. But day by day the net had been +drawn closer about her feet. The wedding-clothes, the wedding-breakfast, +the bridesmaids, the wedding-cake, the hundred and one arrangements for +the wedding, had all been strands of the net that held her ever tighter +and tighter. How could she, at this stage, contemplate the breaking of +her engagement? How could she? The courage of her race had not risen to +that. + +Mrs. Rooke suggested a 'bus, and Nelly agreed. Now that she had done the +thing against which her conscience protested she did not want to think +over-much. She even wanted to postpone the hearing of the name which she +had been hungry to hear for so long. The news she had desired too. How +was she going to listen to his name, to talk of him calmly? She wanted +time to gain courage. A 'bus did not give one opportunities for talking, +hardly for thinking. + +She knew perfectly well that she should find a clear coast at Sherwood +Square. The General had come part of the journey into town with her on +his way to the club. Poor Sir Denis! If he could only have seen his +Nelly now he would not have been so easy in his mind. Lady Drummond was +engaged during the morning hours; she had to lunch with an old friend. +Nelly had been contemplating lunch in a quiet Regent Street restaurant +rather than the going back to the lonely meal at home. She had known +that a telegram to Robin would have brought him to her side, but she had +not meditated sending that telegram. She had been glad, in her innermost +guilty, repentant heart of her morning of freedom from mother and son. + +The 'bus rumbled along as that vehicle of the middle ages does, making a +prodigious screaming in the ears, filling one with horrible electric +thrills as the brake was jammed down. Neither conversation nor thinking +was possible. Nelly closed her eyes a little wearily in her corner. The +other people in the 'bus had stared as she got in at the fresh +daintiness of her attire, conspicuous in the dingy vehicle. Now, as she +leant back with closed eyes, the tired lines came out in her face. Mrs. +Rooke, from the other side of the 'bus, glanced at her with pitying +wonder. + +"Dear me!" she thought to herself. "It isn't the Nelly Drummond I knew. +What has she been doing to herself? She must have been racketting a +deal. She doesn't look in the least like a happy bride should. Poor +child! I wonder if she is marrying against her will?" + +Arrived at Sherwood Square the lamb was brought down and displayed to +Bunny's delighted mother. Pat whistled for a hansom, and when the two +ladies were in he carried out the animal and placed it in front of them, +where it created some excitement in its passage through the street. + +Behold Nelly, then, presently seated on the nursery floor, winding up +the lamb for Bunny and forgetting all about her beautiful lavender +muslin frock. The mother and nurse stood by as eager as Nelly herself. +Bunny, indeed, was the least interested of the party. To be sure in the +wonder-world of Bunny's mind baa-lambs that went of themselves and +bleated were no great wonder, even though it was a pleasing novelty to +find one in his nursery. He was more excited over the reappearance of +Nelly herself and stood by her with one fat affectionate arm about her +neck in a contented silence. In vain his mother asked him if he wasn't +pleased. + +"He is always like that," she said at last. "We took him to the +Hippodrome and he only yawned, even when Seeth's lions came on. He +didn't take the smallest interest." + +"Begging your pardon, ma'am, that he did," the nurse interposed. "He +were flinging 'imself on his precious 'ead twenty times a day for a week +after. 'Twas a wonder he had any 'ead left, the precious lamb. Them +there dratted clowns, I don't 'old with them nohow!" + +The reconciliation between Bunny's mother and Bunny's friend and admirer +was complete by the time they went down to lunch. Nelly had begged for +Bunny's presence at the meal, and so the young monarch of all he +surveyed was seated opposite to her in his high chair, with a napkin +tucked under his chin, playing a fandango with a spoon and fork on the +little table in front of him. Bunny filled the lunch-hour, Bunny's +sayings and doings--there were not many of the former, but his mother +managed to extract gems of wit and wisdom from his taciturnity--Bunny's +likes and dislikes, Bunny's amazing development. + +Only once was Langrishe's name mentioned. He had sent home a beautiful +mug of beaten silver for Bunny. At the sound of his name Nelly's eyes +were suddenly startled: she caught her breath; the colour swept over her +face and ebbed away, leaving her paler than before. + +Presently the luncheon-hour was over and Bunny had been carried off for +his afternoon's outing. The half-hour or so in the drawing-room was +over. Nelly was drawing on her gloves, standing by the window which +over-looked the narrow slip of square, invisible now for the flowers on +the balcony. The fateful visit was nearly at an end and Godfrey +Langrishe's name had been mentioned only once. + +She had a wild thought that her one opportunity was slipping out of her +grasp. She had come here to have news of him. She must not come again. +She must try and forget that he existed till such time at least as she +could think of him calmly. Now she _must_ know, she _must_ hear, what +was happening to him away there at the end of the world. + +She glanced furtively around the pretty room, to which she would not +come again. It was as though she said farewell to its comfort and +pleasantness. She was not going to see Bunny and his mother again, not +for a long time at least. Her gaze came back to the window, pausing ever +so slightly on its way to glance at a portrait of Langrishe which hung +on the wall, a portrait painted in the days when he had been his uncle's +heir, by a great painter. She had been conscious all the time she had +been in the room of the presence of the portrait although she had not +looked its way. The picture had caught the quiet passion and intensity +of Godfrey Langrishe's gaze, as though he looked on deeds of glory and +fought his way towards them. The face was less stern than she remembered +it; it had yet some of the bloom and bonniness of his boyhood; +renunciation had not written its deeper meaning in lines about the lips +and eyes. + +She opened her mouth to speak of him, but at first no words would come. +The fastening of her glove took all her attention it seemed. She had +turned to the light for it, away from Mrs. Rooke's sympathetic glances. + +She had almost controlled her voice to speak without trembling when the +thing was taken out of her hands. + +"I must not let you go," Mrs. Rooke said, "without giving you a message +from Godfrey. A message and gift. It came a week ago. See--here it is. I +was going to post it to you." She took up a packet from the side-table. + +"How is he?" + +At last it was said. Nelly's hand closed over the little packet. She +would open it when she got home. To think that he remembered--that he +had chosen a gift for her! Was there a word with it, perhaps? Her first +letter--and her last letter--from him was lying perhaps in her hand. + +But what was it Mrs. Rooke was saying? She bent her ears greedily to +listen. + +"He was well when he wrote, but the letter was written some time ago. +Where he is, it is not easy to get letters carried in safety. One never +knows what may be happening. It is, of course, a terrible anxiety." + +The tears came into her eyes. There had been a little shadow over her +brightness even while she had watched Bunny. Nelly had been aware of it +dimly. What did she mean? + +"Anxiety!" Nelly repeated falteringly. "Why should you be anxious? He is +not ill, is he?" + +Her heart had sunk, heavy as lead. Her soul cried out in fear. + +"You know he is with the punitive expedition against the Wazees for the +murder of Major Sayers and his companions? You never can tell what +dreadful thing may be happening to him. It isn't possible you didn't +know? And I had been thinking you hardhearted! Ah!" + +Her arms went round Nelly. + +"It isn't possible you didn't know? _Don't_ look like that! Do you care +so much as all that, Nelly? Why, then, why, in the name of Heaven, did +you let him go? Why are you marrying your cousin? My poor Godfrey!" + +She was conscious of a strident voice shouting the evening papers in the +street outside. Indeed, even while she spoke to Nelly, half her brain +was listening in a strained way to that voice as it came nearer. What +was it the creature was shouting? Before she could hear distinctly the +voice died away again in the distance. + +"Why did I let him go?" Nelly repeated after her. "Because, because, he +would not stay. He knew that I loved him, but he would not stay. He +never seemed to think of staying. When he had broken my heart it seemed +that I might as well make others happy. My father, Lady Drummond, my +cousin; they have been so good to me always." + +"But you were engaged to your cousin, weren't you, when Godfrey left?" + +Little Mrs. Rooke's dark eyes looked black in her frightened face. + +"You were engaged to your cousin, were you not, just as you are to-day?" + +"I never accepted my cousin till--till Captain Langrishe had gone. It +was understood that when we grew up we should marry to please our +parents if we saw nothing against it. No one would have wanted to bind +me if I did not wish to be bound." + +Mrs. Rooke flung up her hands with a dramatic gesture. + +"Heaven forgive me, my poor Nelly, for it was I who sent Godfrey from +you! I told him you were engaged to your cousin. I had been told so +explicitly by Lady Drummond herself. How could I doubt that it was +true?" + +Nelly turned a white face towards her. Oddly enough, in spite of its +pallor the face had a certain illumination. + +"So he went away because of that. Only that stood between us. Do you +think I am going to let that--a lie, a mistake--stand between us? I am +going to break off my engagement, even at the eleventh hour." + +The daughter of the Drummonds had found the courage of her race. She +stared uncomprehendingly at the alarm in Mrs. Rooke's expression. + +"Don't do anything rash," the little woman said, in a frightened voice. +"Supposing Godfrey did not come back. Supposing----" + +Again there sounded in the distance the voices of the vendors of evening +papers. The voices came nearer, one, two, half a dozen of them. They +were all shouting together. + +"There must be some news," Mrs. Rooke said under her breath. + +"I shall come and see you to-morrow," Nelly said. "To-morrow I shall be +free to come and go where I like. Do you know that I was bidding this +room and you and Bunny a long good-bye five minutes ago? And if he never +comes back--well, he will know I waited for him." + +So preoccupied was she with her intention that she never noticed the +newspaper boys and men fluttering their Stop Press editions like the +wings of some birds of evil omen. As she sat in the hansom she drew the +engagement ring off her finger and dropped it into her purse. Then she +sighed, as though an immense burden had fallen from her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE NEWS IN THE _WESTMINSTER_ + + +As Nelly's hansom drew up at her own door another hansom was just +turning away from it. She wondered with an impatient wonder who could +have come. At the moment she could not have endured any hindrance +between her and her project of telling her father that the engagement +with Robin was to come to an end. She was not in the least afraid of +what she had to do. The spirit of the Drummonds was thoroughly awake +now. + +Beyond her announcement to her father lay something vaguely painful +which at the moment she did not consider. She would have to tell Lady +Drummond and Robin, of course, and it would hurt them: they would be +angry with her. She was going to make a scandal, a nine days' wonder. +Her father would be grieved--angry, too, perhaps; but that could not be +helped either. + +And then--some resentment stirred in her heart against him for the first +time during all the years in which they had been together. He had kept +her in ignorance of her lover's peril. She was not a child that she +should have been kept in ignorance. For the moment she had no tender +excuses for him. If he had been candid with her, then all this trouble +about Robin might have been spared, for she could never have promised +herself as wife to another man while the one she loved was in daily and +hourly danger. + +She went into the house with a look of stern accusation on her young +face. The dogs came shrieking down the stairs in vociferous welcome as +usual, but she took no notice of them. Being old dogs and wise, they +recognised a forbidding mood in her, and retired with deprecating +wrigglings of their bodies. + +She asked Pat if there were a visitor in the drawing-room. + +"No, then, Miss, only the master. I can't make out what came over him at +all to be comin' home in a hansom." + +He was minded to tell her that the General was not looking himself, to +give her an affectionate, intimate warning; but she passed him by. He +stood watching her, holding the door open in his hand till she took the +bend of the staircase that hid her from his sight. + +"Bedad, the Dowager couldn't have done it better," he said, "shweepin' +by me without a 'By your l'ave, Pat'; and the master, callin' me +'Murphy' to my face, what he's never done since he left the rig'ment. I +wonder what's the matter with Pat. 'Twill be 'Corporal' next." + +Nelly looked into the drawing-room. Her father was not there. She turned +the handle of another door, the door of the General's own particular +den, and going in she found him. + +She never thought of asking herself how he came to be there at this hour +of the day, he who lived by rule, the click of whose latch-key had +sounded in the hall-door every evening at a quarter to seven as long as +she could remember. The clock on the mantelpiece pointed to ten minutes +to five. + +The General was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace as though he had +dropped into it on his entering the room. He was doing absolutely +nothing, and that was an alarming thing enough, if but she had noticed +it. A green evening paper was crumpled on his knee. If she had eyes to +see it there was calamity in his attitude and his looks. But she had no +eyes. She was too much absorbed in the thing she had to do. + +"What, Nell!" he said, getting up as she entered. "We must have come +home almost together. Where have you been, child?" + +To his own ear his voice rang false, but she did not notice it. She did +not meet his kiss. She did not see that he was looking at her with a +fearful apprehension. + +"What is the matter, Nell?" he stammered, noticing the alteration in her +looks. + +She came and stood beside him, seeming to tower above him. + +"Father," she said, "I am not going to marry Robin. I want him to know +at once." + +"Not marry Robin!" This was something the General was unprepared for. +"Not marry Robin! God bless my soul, Nell! It's very late for you to say +such a thing--within three weeks of your wedding! And all the +arrangements made! What will people say? What will the Dowager say? You +can't play fast and loose with a man like that, Nell. Why, it will be +the talk of the town." + +He tried to work himself up to the old fretting and fuming, but there +was no heartiness in it. Under the projecting eyebrows his old +frostily-blue eyes had a scared look. But if he had been in such a +passion as he had shown on a certain historic occasion when the regiment +had nearly scattered before the approach of screaming Dervishes--a +passion which had rallied the men and won Sir Denis his V.C.--it would +have been all the same to Nelly. + +"All that is perfectly immaterial," she said. "I am sorry for Robin and +for Aunt Matilda. But all that will pass. I was mad to consent to the +marriage. I am only glad that I came to my senses in time." + +Was this Nelly?--this young, sure, inflexible creature! He stared at her +in utter amazement. + +"Supposing I were to say that you must go on now since you have gone so +far, Nell?" he said, and felt at the same time the futility of the +saying. "I never thought my girl would play so shabby a trick on +Gerald's son. You know that people will laugh at Robin?" + +"They won't. Robin is not the sort of person to be laughed at--at least, +not for long. Besides, if it is any consolation to you, father, I may +tell you that it will not hurt Robin much: Robin is not and never has +been in love with me." + +"What!" The General now was genuinely indignant. He had forgotten for +the moment his other perturbation, whatever it might be. "What do you +mean, Nell? Your cousin not in love with you! After all the years during +which you have been meant for each other! Impossible, Nell! Robin _must_ +be in love with you." + +"He is not; he never has been. That is my consolation, so far as he is +concerned. Father, why did you keep from me the fact that Captain +Langrishe was fighting the Wazees? Why did you?" + +The General's colour deserted his cheeks once again. + +"Poor Langrishe! What was the good of letting you know, Nell? You used +to be--interested in the poor fellow." + +"You shouldn't have kept it from me. I didn't read the newspapers, or I +should have known. Do you know why I didn't read them? Because if I had +I must have turned to the army news. I was fighting that as a +temptation. I was trying to drive him from my mind. I kept away from his +sister, although she had been kind to me; I went nowhere where I might +hear his name. Then to-day I met her by accident. I went home with her. +She told me--do you know what she told me?" + +"What, Nell?" + +"That her brother went away under the impression that I was engaged to +Robin Drummond. Aunt Matilda had told her so and she had told him. So +that is why he left me." + +"I see," the General groaned. "A nice lot of trouble has come out of +that scheme of your Aunt Matilda's for marrying you and Robin. I never +would agree to it; I used to say: 'Let it be till the children are old +enough to choose for themselves.' I wish I had taken a stronger stand. I +only wished for your happiness, Nell. I always liked poor Langrishe, and +felt I could trust him with even what I held dearest on earth. I did my +best for you, Nell. If I kept his danger from you, it was only that I +hoped to keep you from suffering like those other poor women." + +She did not notice the haggardness of his face, nor the repetition of +"Poor Langrishe." She was too much absorbed in getting to the root of +things. She was determined to know everything. + +"What happened when you went to Tilbury?" + +Was this young inquisitor his Nell? + +"I didn't see him. The boat had gone." + +"And I thought you had offered me to him, and that he had rejected me! +Oh, I know you would have done it in the most delicate way. There need +not have been a word spoken. But it would have been the same thing in +the end. I thought his love was not great enough to conquer his pride." + +"My train broke down, Nell; I came ten minutes too late. I thought the +hand of God was in it." + +"It was a mere accident. God had nothing to do with it. I am only +grateful that it has not ended worse. If I had married Robin and then +discovered these things----" + +"Don't say that you couldn't have forgiven me, Nell." The General took +out a big white silk handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. "Don't +say that you couldn't have forgiven me! I meant it all for the best. My +little Nell couldn't be hard with her old father." + +She stooped suddenly and caught his hand to her lips. She noticed with a +tender contraction of her heart that it was an old hand--knotted, with +purple stains. + +"I should be a brute if I could be angry with you," she said; and the +tenseness of her face relaxed to its old softness. + +"Ah, that's right, Nell--that's right. We couldn't do without each +other. You've always your old father, you know--haven't you, dearie?--no +matter what happens. I'll stand by you, Nell. I'll take you away. No one +shall be angry with my Nell." + +"You are too good to me," she said. "And I've been angry with you! What +a wretch I was to be angry with you! On my way here I telegraphed to +Robin to come this evening. I must get it over. You shall take me away +if you will afterwards. I would stay and face it if it would do any +good, but it wouldn't. After all, there is no great harm done. Robin's +heart will not be broken." + +"And afterwards, Nell?" + +"Afterwards? Oh, you and I shall be together." + +"Yes; we did very well when we were together. Listen, Nell." He put his +arm about her. "I want you to be strong and brave. I came home to tell +you, lest you should hear by accident. His poor sister did not know----" + +The General's den looked out on the Square gardens. It was quite a long +way across them to the road; yet through the quietness of the golden +afternoon there came the shouting of the newsboys. It all flashed on +Nelly with a blinding suddenness. To be sure, they had been calling the +same thing while she stood with his sister and learned why he had left +her, only she had not known. + +"He is dead," she said, with an immense quietness. It was as though she +had known it always. + +"No; not dead, Nell--terribly wounded, but not dead. He is in English +hands." + +He stopped, shuddering. If he had been in those black devils' hands to +be tortured to death! He had been only saved by a sudden rush of his +men. Even his wounds would not have saved him from torture if God had +not delivered him out of their hands. + +"Show it to me." + +All of a sudden she saw the newspaper which had been lying crumpled on +his knee. That had contained the news all the time while they had been +talking about things that mattered so much less. + +He did not try to keep it from her. He turned over the paper and found +the page of it which had the latest news. There it was, with its staring +headlines. She seemed to have seen it just so, in another life. + +She read it through to the end. It had been an ambush. The small +detachment of troops had been led by the guide into the midst of a large +body of the enemy--it had been surrounded. Captain Langrishe had fallen, +as had a young lieutenant. The men had stood shoulder to shoulder, +fighting desperately. By the most desperate courage they had rescued the +bodies of their officers, which were being carried by the tribesmen into +one of their towers among the hills. They had fought their way back with +the bodies strapped to their horses. Lieutenant Foley proved to be dead. +He had been hacked and hewed with knives. Captain Langrishe had been +more fortunate; the life was still in him when the last intelligence had +been sent down. There was very little hope of his recovery. + +Nelly neither cried out nor fainted. When she had finished the reading +she laid down the paper quietly. Her father watched her in mingled +terror and relief. She was seeing it all--the rocky gorge with the +inaccessible hills on either side, filled in with scrub and low trees; +at the little neck of the gorge the dreadful tower; the small body of +Britishers fighting their way step by step backward; the dazzling blue +sky over all. Was Heaven empty that such things happened? She remembered +in a kind of daze that she had been at a garden-party that very +afternoon. She had worn for the first time her white silk frock with the +roses on it and she had seen in many eyes how well it became her. That +had happened in another world. A great gulf stretched between even the +events of the afternoon and this time--this time, in which she knew that +Godfrey Langrishe was dead or dying. + +"I wish he might have known," she said quietly, "that after all I was +not engaged to Robin." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE FRIEND + + +Robin Drummond had heard from his cousin's own lips his dismissal. Her +father would have spared her, but Nelly would not hear of that and he +let her have her way. + +She told Robin everything in a dull, unmodulated voice, with a +dead-tiredness in it which revealed her unhappiness more eloquently than +words could have done. She stood by the mantel-shelf, holding one hand +over her eyes while she told him. When she had finished there was a +momentary silence. + +"You are not angry with me?" she asked, turning about and looking at him +with eyes of suffering. + +"My poor child! Could I have the heart to be angry with you?" + +"Ah! that is right. You were always kind, Robin. I shouldn't have liked +you to be unkind now. You must win me your mother's forgiveness." + +"She will come round in time." + +He had an idea his mother would take it badly. But, of course, she would +have to come round. The whole bad business had been her fault in a way; +and if she was hard on Nelly, he felt like telling her so. + +"I am glad to think I have done you no great harm, Robin. Indeed, the +harm would have been in marrying you. I have realised for some time that +I was not essential to your happiness." + +He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He was not a +diplomatist. + +"I am very fond of you, Nelly," he said, after a pause. + +"Yes, I know you are. So am I fond of you. It was not enough, of course; +I ought to have known better." + +"And I. I can't forgive myself, Nell, for having been in a way the cause +of the mischief. Take courage, dear. All may yet be well. God knows what +happiness is in store for you." + +"God knows," she echoed; but there was no assurance in her tone. + +The General, lying in wait for him, drew him into his own den. He put +his hand on Robin's shoulder, leaning heavily on it, like an old man +with his son. + +"I'm sorry for this, so far as it concerns you, my lad," he said. "But +my great trouble is for my girl. She is taking it too quietly. I don't +know what is happening--inside. One knows so little about women--how +they take those things. She ought to have a woman with her." + +"His sister. She is a good little woman, and she adores him. She would +be good to Nelly." + +"You can't go tearing off to people's houses at this hour of the +evening"--it was nine o'clock--"and asking them to come with you. To be +sure, the sister knows. I don't want Nell talked about." + +"Nor I. Let him come home well and then they can talk of the nine-days' +happy wonder. I'm going to the sister. If she fails, there is Miss +Gray." + +The General snatched at the idea. + +"She came to see Nell the other day and I liked her. I began with a +prejudice--I've no liking for women who take up the trade of politics. +Writing books, too! I'm glad my Nell doesn't write books. I shouldn't +like to see her name stuck up in the papers. But this Miss Gray of +yours. She overcame my prejudice. She looks clean, my lad, clean outside +and within. Nell's fond of her. The dogs pawed her as if they had known +her all her life. I trust a dog's judgment. She didn't mind it either, +though she was fresh as a daisy. What do you propose to do? To ask her +to come round and see Nell to-morrow, if the sister fails? You can't +very well ask her to come to-night." + +He looked wistfully at Robin. + +"Miss Gray often works late," the other said, consulting his watch. "If +she is at home, why shouldn't she come back with me? She may be out, of +course; the world has begun to run after her. She is not much attracted +by the world, but she gives kindness for what she takes to be kindness. +She is not conventional. If she feels she is wanted she won't mind +coming in at ten o'clock." + +"I believe Nell would talk to her," the father said eagerly. "If Nell +would talk to someone my mind would be at rest. Poor Nell! The purpose +of my life was to keep her from pain and sorrow." + +He went back to his room shaking his old head, and Robin Drummond went +out into the night. He drove first to Mrs. Rooke's house, and found the +mistress absent. She had gone off to an old mother who had to be +consoled. + +Fortunately it was not far to Mary Gray's little flat, not more than ten +minutes' hansom drive. He told the driver to wait while he ran up the +stone steps. To his relief, when he had rung the bell at the white door +he heard someone stirring within. Mary herself opened the door. + +"Forgive my coming at this hour," he began apologetically. Even as he +spoke he remembered that he had had a chance of seeing those little +rooms that held Mary and had relinquished it on that bygone Good Friday. +He looked enviously beyond Mary herself to the glimpse of lamplit room. +He could see a white wall with pictures on its panels, a bit of a dwarf +bookcase, a chair drawn to a table heaped with books, a green-shaded +reading-lamp. Against the lighted background Mary's cloudy hair stood +out illumined. + +"What is it?" + +"It is my cousin. She is in great trouble. I will explain to you as we +go along. Can you come to her? Her father is anxious about her." + +She was a woman in ten thousand. She asked no questions, although it +occurred to him that it must seem odd to her that she should be +summoned, that Nelly should be in great trouble, seeing that he and her +father were well. + +"Shall I stay the night?" she asked. "Your cousin was so very anxious +that I should come and stay with her. She showed me the room I should +have--next to hers. Sir Denis seconded the invitation warmly. I said +that I would try to come." + +"It will be the best thing in the world. How long will you take to get +ready? I have a hansom at the door." + +"Five minutes." + +She came down the stairs in four and a half minutes. Robin had been +expeditious; it yet wanted twenty minutes to ten by his watch. + +He helped her into the hansom, got in himself and placed her little bag +at their feet. The hansom turned up the hill. She waited for him to +speak. + +"Nelly has found out that she made a mistake," he said quietly. "Her +heart was not given to me, but to a Captain Langrishe of her father's +old regiment. News has come that he has been badly wounded, so badly +that in all probability he is dead by this time. He had exchanged into +an Indian regiment, and almost as soon as he got out he was sent into +the hills on the business of this wretched little war. Those conquests +of ours, what they cost us! Why should we have all those thousands of +miles of frontiers to defend? Why can't we stay at home and let the +territories be for their own people?" + +She smiled quietly to herself in the corner of the cab. The sudden +excursion into politics was so characteristic of him. + +The wind of the summer night came cool and friendly in their faces. The +blue heaven was studded with stars. A little half-moon hung above the +quiet shadows of the square through which they were passing. For the +stillness they might have been miles away from London. + +"What a Don Quixote you are!" she said. "I believe you would cede India +if you had your way." + +"I believe I should. Don't you wonder at me, Miss Gray? My forbears +devoted their existence chiefly to extending the boundaries of the +British Empire. Am I not their degenerate descendant?" + +"Oh, you're a fighting man in other ways. You don't mind facing a +hostile audience and saying unpalatable things to them. Mr. Ilbert says +you'll have to fight for your seat at the next election." + +"I wouldn't be bothered with a seat I hadn't to fight for. All the same, +I'm obliged to Ilbert for his interest in my affairs. Do you know that +he referred to me as a Little Englander the other night, as though there +were only one way of loving one's country and that to rob other people +of theirs?" + +His tone was an offended one. The name of Ilbert seemed to have power to +irritate him. He resented the idea that Ilbert had talked to Mary of +him, disparaged him; he supposed she saw Ilbert often. The idea was +exceedingly distasteful to him. + +"He has the highest opinion of your honesty and capacity, your +patriotism too," Mary said. + +He did not want Ilbert's commendation; he hated that Mary should quote +his opinions. He lay back in the hansom, staring before him, and his +expression was one of unmixed gloom. Even her neighbourhood had no power +to cheer him, although at first he had had a sensation of delight in her +nearness to him, the perfume as of flowers that hung about her, the soft +folds of her dress which he had touched in the darkness. + +They were driving along Sherwood Square now. Across the square itself +Robin could see the lit windows of the General's house. Their time +together was short, he thought; and perhaps the same thought occurred to +Mary, for she touched his sleeve with a gesture of sympathy. + +"Will you let me say," she said, "how sorry I am for the pain and +trouble this must be to you?" + +"You mean, because Nelly has--has chucked me?" + +"Yes; I mean that." + +For a moment he looked down in silence. He wondered if he had any right +to tell the truth. Would it not be like a disparagement of Nelly if he +were to confess that he had never loved her? A memory floated into his +mind. It was of Lady Agatha Chenevix and something she had said to him +once at a dinner-party. + +"When I must be indiscreet----" she had begun. "Yes?" he had answered +laughingly. "When was your ladyship ever anything but indiscreet? and +who has made indiscretion adorable like you?" Her ladyship had bidden +him hold his tongue with frank camaraderie, and had finished the speech. +"When I am indiscreet, I am indiscreet to Mary. She is like a little +well, into which one drops one's indiscretions and puts the lid on." "A +very clear, transparent, honest well," he had said. + +After the momentary pause he lifted his head. The rest of the world +might think him heartbroken if it would; he wanted Mary to know the +truth. + +"As a matter of fact, Miss Gray," he said, "Nelly has not broken my +heart. She had always been very dear to me, like a dear little sister. +There was a time when I felt that it would be quite easy to fall in with +my mother's plan and marry Nelly. But I had come to the conclusion that +my feeling for her was not enough for marriage, before that time in the +spring when my mother intimated to me that Nelly was ready to fulfil her +engagement. I never considered it an engagement. I was actually about to +make things clear when that intimation was given to me. Then, I was led +to believe that Nelly had taken it as binding. What could I do only go +on? If Nelly cared for me--I confess that I ought to have known it to be +an unlikely thing--then my great concern in life was that Nelly should +not suffer. It was all a pretty bad mistake, but I am glad it has gone +no further." + +He heard something like a sigh, so faint that he could be hardly sure he +heard it. It was, in reality, Mary's thanksgiving and great relief; a +burden which had lain at her heart for months past taking wings to +itself and flying away. She had not acknowledged to herself that cold +doubt about Robin Drummond, who had seemed to come so near to her, while +all the time he belonged to another woman. She had pushed away the doubt +with loyal refusal to hear it; but it had been there all the time. Now +it was gone for ever. There was no more need of excuses or explanations +to her own heart. + +"Thank you for telling me," she said. + +They were at the house-door and the hansom had pulled up. They went up +the steps between the couchant lions and before they could knock Pat had +opened the door, as though he had been listening for them. + +"Miss Nelly is in the drawing-room, sir," he said in his privileged +Irish way; "but the master has just gone into the study." + +They went up to the drawing-room. Nelly was sitting in a chair by the +open window as Robin had left her, tearless, her unemployed hands lying +in her lap. The circle of dogs about her watching her with anxious eyes +would have been humorous in other circumstances. The lamps were lit +behind her, but there was no light on her face, except the dying light +in the pale western sky. + +"I have brought you a visitor, Nelly," Robin said. + +She looked up indifferently. Then something of interest stirred in her +face. + +"You have heard what has happened?" she said in a half-whisper. + +Mary knelt down beside her and put her arms round the little frozen +figure. + +"Why, you are cold!" she said. "Come away from the window. I am going to +ask for a fire, and then you will talk to me about it." + +Robin Drummond left them together, and went down to tell Pat to light +the fire in the drawing-room, because Miss Nelly was cold. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE ONE WOMAN + + +Mary Gray's loving, capable care and sympathy carried Nelly through the +worst days of her trouble. There were times when Mary had to hold the +girl's hands, to fight with all her might against the acute suffering +which menaced for a time her sanity and her health. The horrors into +which Nelly fell when she thought upon the things which happened in such +wars as this with cruel and cunning savages, were the worst things to +fight. There were hours in which all the fears of the world seemed to be +let loose on the unhappy child, when it seemed impossible to vanquish +those powers of darkness with one poor woman's love and prayers. During +these days Mary Gray hardly left Nelly's side. Fortunately she had +ceased to direct the Bureau, and another capable, much more +common-place, young woman had taken up her task. The official +appointment was on its way, but had not yet arrived. So she was free to +devote herself to her friend. + +The doctor whom Sir Denis called in could do little for the patient +except prescribe sleeping draughts to be taken at need. He understood +that the girl had had a shock. He suggested a change, but Nelly would +not hear of that. She must stay on in London where the first news would +come. So stay on they did, through the torrid heats of July, when the +dust was in arid drifts on the Square green gardens and blew in through +the open windows, powdering everything with its faint grey. + +"This young lady is better than my prescriptions," the doctor said +handsomely of Mary Gray. And added, "Indeed, what can we do for sorrow +except give the body a sedative?" + +"If she could face her trouble clear-eyed," Mary said, "I should feel +glad in spite of everything. It is these mists and shadows in her mind +that it is so hard to fight against." + +After a little while they were left pretty well to themselves in +Sherwood Square. The Dowager was angry with Nelly as her son had +anticipated; and, after a scene with Robin which prevented a scene with +Sir Denis, she had gone off over the sea to the Court. Everybody went +out of town: even Sherwood Square emptied itself away to the sea and the +foreign spas. Only Robin Drummond stayed in town and came constantly. +During the early days when Nelly kept the house and refused obstinately +to go out of doors, he would leave Sir Denis in charge and carry Mary +off for a walk in the Square. + +The first sign of interest that Nelly showed in other things than her +sorrow was when she indicated to her father the distant figures of Mary +and Robin moving briskly along at the farther side of the Square. + +"Do you notice anything there, papa?" she asked. + +"What do you mean, my pet?" + +Sir Denis was quite flurried at Nelly's suddenly coming out of her +brooding silence. + +"I mean Mary and Robin," she answered. "It has been borne in on me that +that is why Robin was not in love with me. Poor Robin! He would have +gone through it heroically. Never say again, papa, that he is not a true +Drummond. And I should never have known if he could have helped it that +I wasn't the only woman for him." + +"You don't mean to say, Nell, that Robin is in love with Miss Gray?" + +"That is it, papa." + +The General turned very red. For a second his impulse was towards wrath; +then he checked himself. + +"To be sure, as you didn't want him, Nell, it would be the height of +unreasonableness to expect poor Robin to be miserable for your sake. And +Miss Gray is a fine creature--a fine, handsome, clever creature. Still, +there is a great difference in their positions. It will be a blow to the +Dowager." + +"Mrs. Ilbert would not have minded." + +"God bless my soul! You don't mean to say that Miss Gray could have had +Ilbert?" + +"She has refused him, but I don't think he has given up hope." + +"God bless my soul! Why, the Ilberts are connected with half the +peerage. We Drummonds are only country squires beside them. Such a +handsome fellow too, and with such a reputation! Why should she refuse +Ilbert? Is the girl mad?" + +"Robin was first in the field. But I happen to know that Mary refused +Mr. Ilbert while yet Robin and I were engaged. What do you think of +that?" + +"Madder and madder. I don't understand women, Nell. Such a fellow as +Ilbert! Why, he might marry anybody. We must make it easy for them with +the Dowager, Nell--as easy as we can. We owe a good deal to Miss Gray." + +"Oh, she'll come round--she'll have to come round." + +"Do you suppose they understand each other, Nell?" + +"I don't think Robin has spoken. He seems to be waiting for something. I +have only noticed the last day or two. Before that I was absorbed in my +troubles--such a selfish daughter, papa." + +"My darling, we have all felt with you. It is so good to see you more +yourself, Nell." + +"Ah!" She turned away her head. "I have a feeling--there is no reason +for it at all--that good news is coming. I felt it when I awoke this +morning." + +Meanwhile Robin Drummond and Mary had the Square almost to themselves, +except for a gardener or two. All around the Square were shuttered and +silent houses. It was the most torrid of early August days, and +presently the heat drove them to a sheltered seat beneath a tree. In the +mist of heat around them the bedding-plants, the scarlet geraniums, the +lobelia and beet, made a vivid glare. Only in the forest trees, too +dense for the dust to penetrate, were there shadow and relief. + +They were talking of Nelly. + +"She will be all right now," Mary said. "She has come out of the +darkness. Even if she has his death to bear I think she will bear it. +She reproaches herself for the pain she has caused her father." + +"Poor Uncle Denis! He lives in terror about Nelly. She is all he has had +since her mother died." + +"I think he may rest easy now. Nelly is not going to die--not even of +grief. Now that she is better, Sir Robin, why don't you go away? I know +your yacht is waiting for you, and you have got the London look; you +want change." + +"I shan't go till there is news one way or another." + +"There ought to be news soon. It is hard on you waiting from day to +day." + +"I don't feel it hard. Perhaps if the good news came I might induce them +to come away with me on the yacht. It would be the best thing in the +world for them. For the matter of that, why don't you go away? You also +have the London look." + +"Oh, I shall go gladly when I may. I am really longing to be off. Do you +know what I shall hear when I go over there?--a sound I am longing for." + +"What?" + +"The rain. I close my eyes now and fancy I hear it pattering on the +leaves. Oh, the music of it! One is never long without it at home. We've +had six weeks without rain here. Can't you imagine the soft, delicious +downpour of it? The music of the rain--my ears hunger for it." + +"Oh, now indeed I see that it is time you went. You will probably have +enough of the rain." + +He spoke gloomily, and she laughed. + +"It will probably rain all the time I am there. And I shall be able to +forgive it because of its first delicious moments." + +"What are you going to do?" He asked the question almost roughly. + +"I am going to be with my father, in a mean, little two-storied house of +six rooms. At least, it is mean outwardly; but no house could be mean +inside where he lived and spread his light. He will have to be at his +work every day till he gets his fortnight's holiday in September. If I +get away in, say, a fortnight's time, I shall help my stepmother about +the house while he is at business all day; I shall have a thousand +things to do. They have only one servant; and my stepmother and sisters +do the greater part of the work. They would treat me like a queen when I +go over there, if I would let them; but I never do let them. I love +dusting, and cooking, and mending, and helping the little ones with +their lessons. Then as soon as my father is free I am going to carry +them off to a hotel I know between the mountains and the sea. It is a +big, old-fashioned house, and there is a lovely garden, full of roses +and lilies, and phlox and stocks and hollyhocks and mignonette and sweet +peas. I stayed there once with dear Lady Anne. We shall all have a +lovely time. There is a trout-stream at the end of the garden and the +trout sail by in it. There are hundreds of little streams running down +from the mountains. They make golden pools in the road and they hang +like gold and silver fringes from the crags that edge the road." + +There had been a deliberation in what she told him about the little +house. But she was mistaken if she thought to surprise him. He was +picturing her there at her domestic duties and thinking that no small or +mean surroundings could dwarf her soul's stature. Hadn't the hideous +official room that held her been heaven to him?--the singing of the +naked gas-jets the music of the spheres? + +"It will be a great change from London," he said. + +"I am going back to the old days. I have refused to see any of my fine +new friends. The Ilberts will be staying over there with the Lord +Lieutenant at the same time. I have forbidden Mr. Ilbert to call." + +Again his mood changed to one of unreasonable irritation. What had she +to do with the Ilberts, or they with her? + +"If I find myself over there I shall certainly call," he said, with an +air of doggedness. + +"Oh, very well, then, you shall," she said merrily. "_You_ won't +embarrass us, not even if we have to ask you to dinner." + +An hour or two later the good news came, brought by Mrs. Rooke in +person. Captain Langrishe could hardly yet be considered out of danger, +but he lived; he had been sent down in a litter to the nearest station, +where there were appliances and comforts and white people all about him, +outside the sights and sounds of war, beyond the danger of recapture by +the enemy. + +Nelly bore the better news well: she had been prepared for it, she said. +Seeing her so quiet, Mrs. Rooke brought out a scrap of blue ribbon cut +through and blood-stained. It was in a little case which had been hacked +through by knives. It had been sent home to her at the first when there +was no hope, when, practically, Godfrey Langrishe was a dead man. + +"It is not mine, my dear," she said to Nelly, "and I think it must be +yours. I did not dare show it to you before." + +Nelly went pale and red. Yes, it was her ribbon, which had fallen from +her hair that morning more than a year ago when Captain Langrishe had +ridden by with the regiment and the wind had carried off her ribbon. + +She received it with a trembling eagerness. + +"Yes, it is mine," she said. "I knew he had it. He showed it to me +before he went away." + +"How furious Godfrey will be when he misses it!" Mrs. Rooke said. +"Somebody will be having a bad quarter of an hour. And now, Nelly, when +are you going to be well enough to come to see my mother? She longs to +know you. She is the dearest old soul. She wanted me to bring you to her +while yet we were in suspense. But I waited for news, one way or +another." + +"I should love to go," Nelly said. + +"She has a room in a gable fitted up for you; the windows open on roses. +The place is full of sweet sounds and sights. All through this trouble +her thoughts have been with you. Will you come?" + +"If papa can spare me." + +"Then I shall ask him, and we can go down on Saturday. Won't he come for +the day? When you know my mother I am going to leave you there with her. +Poor Cyprian is off to Marienbad and I must go with him. He's dreadfully +afraid of losing his figure. A fat lawyer, he says, is the one +unpardonable thing. Will you look after my mother?" + +The General was only too glad to give his consent to the plan which had +brought the colour to Nelly's cheek and the light to her eye. After +leaving Nelly in Sussex he and Robin would go down to Southampton, get +out the yacht and cruise about the coast till Nelly felt inclined for a +longer run. + +So Mary Gray was free to go. She went out in the afternoon, leaving +Robin to look after his cousin. The General had gone off to the club +with a lighter heart than he had known for many a month. Robin had +suggested a drive, but Nelly would not hear of that. She was going to +save up her pleasure, she said, for Sussex and Saturday. She consented +to walk in the Square, where she had not been for quite a long time. He +noticed that she looked delicate and languid and his manner to her was +very tender. In fact, a new under-gardener in the Square, who was very +susceptible to romance, put quite an erroneous interpretation on Robin's +manner to his cousin, and hovered in their vicinity with eager curiosity +till he was pulled up sharply by one of his superior officers. + +"So we are all going to scatter, Nell," Drummond said, half regretfully. + +She glanced at him. + +"Poor Robin! It was too bad, keeping you in town." + +"I haven't minded it at all, I assure you, Nell. Indeed, I couldn't have +gone happily while you were in suspense." + +"Robin," she said suddenly, "what are you waiting for?" + +He started. "Waiting for?" he repeated. "What do you mean, Nell?" + +"You're not going to let Mary go without speaking to her?" Under her +light shawl her hand felt for and held the locket which contained the +blood-stained blue ribbon. "Haven't you waited long enough? I believe +she would wait an eternity for you, but don't try her. Speak now." + +"My dear Nell," he stammered, "it is only a fortnight or so from the day +that should have been our wedding day." + +"I was thinking as much. What have you had in your mind? Some foolish +Quixotic notion. What were you waiting for?" + +"To tell the truth, Nell, till you should be happy." + +"Don't take the chances of letting her go away without telling her. Do +you think I haven't known that you were in love with her all the time? +Why, that first day I saw her I said to myself in amazement, 'Where were +his eyes that he could have chosen you before her?'" + +"Nelly, how do I know that she will look at me?" + +"She will never look at anyone else. Speak now, if only in fairness to +the men who might be in love with her, who are in love with her and may +have false hopes." + +"She won't look at me, Nell." + +"She has sent Mr. Ilbert about his business, but he will not let her be. +He says that so long as she is not anybody else's she may yet be his. I +didn't want to betray him, but I must make you understand." + +Poor Ilbert! For a moment Drummond's mind was filled with a lordly +compassion towards him. Ilbert rejected! And for him! To be sure, he +knew Mary cared for him. She was not the girl to have admitted him to +the intimacy of last winter unless she cared. She had borne with him +exquisitely. She had even taken her successful rival to her breast. He +had made her suffer, the magnanimous woman. + +Suddenly he took fire. He had been a slow, dull fellow, he said to +himself, and quaked at the thought that Ilbert might have robbed him of +his jewel. Now, he felt as though he must follow her, and make her his +without even the possible mischances of a few hours of absence. + +"She comes back to dinner?" he asked. + +"She comes back to tea," his cousin answered, "and you have made me +tired, Robin. I am going to rest till tea-time." + +They went back to the house and Nelly left him in the drawing-room while +she went away to her own room. He knew that she was giving him his +opportunity and was grateful for it. How could he have been so mad as to +think of letting Mary go away with nothing settled between them? + +He walked up and down restlessly, while the dogs watched him in +amazement from their cushions. It was a topsy-turvy world in which the +dogs found themselves of late. They had almost reached the point of +being surprised at nothing. It was lucky the carpet was so faded and +shabby, for of late the General had worn a path in it with his restless +movements; and now here was his nephew behaving as though he were an +untamed creature in a cage and not a sober, serious legislator. + +At last he heard her knock, and her light foot ascending the stairs. She +looked surprised to find him alone and asked rather anxiously for Nelly. + +"You didn't let her get over-tired?" she asked, apprehensively. + +"No; we walked very little. She said she would rest till tea-time. Well, +have you packed?" + +"I have put my things together. I am going to ask to be allowed off +to-morrow. I shall sleep at the flat to-morrow night, if they can spare +me, and be off the next morning." + +"You are glad to be free?" + +"Very glad. I was also glad to stay. And you?" + +He rose up to his awkward length from the chair into which he had +dropped on hearing her knock and went close to her. + +"I shall never be free again in this world," he said. And then, with a +change of tone: "Do you suppose I am going to let you go over there a +free woman?" + +He drew her almost roughly to him. + +"I have always loved you," he said. + +"And I," she answered, "I have loved you since I was sixteen." + +"My one woman!" he cried in a rapture. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +GOLDEN DAYS + + +The time went peacefully with Nelly and the mother in the little house +among the Sussex woods. And presently, since Nelly showed no indication +of wishing to join them, and could not be spared indeed, and since Robin +was plainly ill at ease yachting up and down the coast, the General +declared his intention of going off to a grouse-moor in Scotland, rented +by an old friend, over which he had shot year after year for many years +back. + +On hearing of this sudden change of plans Robin expressed a polite +regretfulness, but the General looked at him with twinkling eyes--he and +Robin had come to be on the best of terms of late--and bade him be off +to Dublin without any confounded hypocrisy about it. + +"You've been wishing me anywhere, my lad, this last week or two except +aboard the _Seagull_," he said. "Not but what you've borne with me--oh, +yes, you've borne with me; a lad of my own couldn't have done more: and +now you've earned your reward." + +So the General went off northward for what was left of the grouse +season. Later, he was to go into Sussex for the partridge and pheasant +shooting, not so far from where Nelly was living in a state of blissful +peace, with excellent reports of Langrishe's recovery coming by every +mail. + +And be sure, the _Seagull_ spread her white wings and flew, as fast as +wind and wave could carry her, across the Irish Sea. + +Sir Robin presented himself unannounced at the little house in Wistaria +Terrace, where the youngest but two of the Miss Grays opened the door +half-way to him, and was visibly alarmed at the sound of his title. + +The little house smelt of cookery, perhaps of washing, although doors +and windows were open. But little Robin Drummond cared for that. Beyond +the demure child who had admitted him he caught sight of Mary sitting on +the shabby little grass-plot, in a wicker-chair, with a Japanese +umbrella over her head. And roses could not have been sweeter than the +atmosphere. + +The simplicity which belonged to his character came out in his dealings +with Mary's family. Walter Gray came home to find his daughter's grand +lover stretching his long figure on the grass at her feet, while the +smaller Grays, their shyness quite departed, rolled and tumbled over him +as confident as puppies. To be sure Walter Gray, with his disbelief in +distinctions of rank as otherwise than accidental, was not unduly elated +by the fine company in which he found himself. He looked hard and long +at Robin Drummond as hand met hand. Then a bright look of reassurance +came over his face. He could trust even Mary to the owner of those eyes. + +They discovered a deal in common later on as they walked, with Mary for +a third, in the long twilight and early moonlight. Walter Gray imparted +his secret thoughts as to a spiritual brother. His dreams, his +aspirations, his Utopia of a world as he would have made it, he laid +bare to Robin Drummond in his slow, easy talk, with a hand through his +arm. + +"He was born to be a great man," Robin Drummond said to Mary later, in a +generous enthusiasm, "and he shall not miss his vocation. He must have +leisure and ease. When we are married he shall have a corner of the +Court to himself, and he shall put his dreams into black and white. I +know the room; it looks into an elm-tree, and the owner of the room has +the key to the birds' secrets. There is an oriel window, and in the room +is a little old organ, yet wonderfully sweet. You shall play to him when +he lacks inspiration." + +"He could do better with the young ones about him and the mother +grumbling placidly in his ear," said Mary. + +"Then they shall have the Cottage. It is within the walls and looks to +the mountains. It is a roomy old place and has a big overgrown garden of +its own." + +"I wonder if he will take it from you?" + +"He will have to," said the lover. + +Then they went back to supper: and he was introduced to Gerald, the +young bank-clerk, whose mind was not yet cured of the fever for the sea, +who had a roving eye in his smooth young face; and Marcella, the eldest +one of the young Grays, who was a typist in the same employment as her +father. And though at first the young people were shy of Mary's lover +they were quickly at home with him. The fine breeding of Walter Gray had +passed on, to some extent, to every one of his children. + +"It will be my privilege to look after them," Robin Drummond said to +Mary. "As for the lad, he will never be a financier. He is too old for +the Navy, but why should he not learn the seaman's trade on the yacht? +He has a pining look which I don't altogether like." + +"It will be said that you are marrying all my people," Mary said +uneasily. + +"We shall not hear it said," her lover answered placidly. "We shall be +out of hearing of that sort of thing." + +When their friendship had the ratification of weeks upon it he broached +the matter of the cottage to Walter Gray. They were walking together as +they usually did of evenings; and Walter Gray walked with a stick, +leaning on him, with the other hand thrust through his arm. He had a +groping way of walking, which Drummond had noticed and ascribed to his +abstraction from the things about him. After Drummond had unfolded his +plans there was a silence, during which he watched Walter Gray +curiously. Was he going to refuse, as Mary had suggested? + +They were near a lamp on the suburban road which stood up in the boughs +of a lime, making a green flame of the tree. Walter Gray pulled up +suddenly and lifted his eyes to the light. + +"Do you notice anything?" he asked. + +Drummond peered down into the eyes. Yes, there was a slight film upon +the pupil of one. + +"Cataract," said Walter Gray cheerfully. "I shall never be fit for my +work any more, even if an operation should be successful. Marcella +knows. Good girl, she has kept her own counsel. I have not been working +for some time at the watches. Mr. Gordon, kind soul, continues my +salary. I have been learning type-writing against the days that are to +come. I confess I have a desire to write a book. I have saved nothing, +Sir Robin Drummond. How is it possible, with fifty shillings a week and +eight children? I have no pride about accepting your offer. If my scrip +is empty and yours is full I don't object to receiving from a +fellow-pilgrim what I should give if our cases were reversed." + +"Ah! that is right," said Robin Drummond. "As for cataract, in its early +stages it is easily curable. Sir George Osborne----" + +"I will do whatever you and Mary wish. But I anticipate blindness. I +shall not mind very much if I have the light within. There will be the +book to solace my age; and after a time I shall not be so helpless." + +The Dowager came round after all sooner than was expected. The +reconciliation was hastened by a letter she received from Mrs. Ilbert +congratulating her on her prospective daughter-in-law. "My poor +Maurice," she wrote. "I don't mind telling you, dear Lady Drummond, that +Maurice was head-over-ears in love with your charming and distinguished +daughter-in-law that is to be. The boy takes it very well, says that the +better man has won, which is exactly like Maurice. Since your son has +chosen a political career I congratulate him on having such a woman as +Miss Gray by his side. She will be a force in political life, so says +Maurice. And she will be the noblest inspiration. Though I am grieved +that she is to be your son's Egeria and not mine yet I offer you and Sir +Robin my heartiest congratulations. I may add that I also congratulate +the party to which your son belongs." + +Lady Drummond had rubbed her eyes over this letter. Congratulate +_her_--was it possible?--on being the prospective mother-in-law of Mary +Gray, the daughter of a man who worked for his living at repairing the +insides of watches! She, the widow of a hero, a rich woman of social +importance! Congratulate _her_ and Robin and Robin's party! And not one +word of congratulating Mary Gray! Was Caroline Ilbert mad? + +However, the thing impressed her. It worked by slow degrees into her +mind. She had listened often to such foolish heresies as that which +declared brains more important than rank or wealth. In a general way she +had not dissented. Brains were very important. Gerald had thought a good +deal of brains. If he had lived he had meditated a book on Napoleon's +Wars. She had often met writing and painting and musical people in her +friends' drawing-rooms. They had not appealed to her nor she to them. +But she had grown accustomed to their presence there and to meeting them +on an equality to which in her heart she had never subscribed. + +However, she had the wisdom to see that there was no use in holding out +against her son and to console herself with the idea that Mary was going +to be a personage, even apart from the incredible social promotion of +marrying Sir Robin Drummond. So she actually reached the point of coming +in person to Wistaria Terrace to make a formal recantation of her +opposition to the marriage, and to take Mary to her imposing, +black-bugled breast. + +To be sure the little house had almost driven her back from its +threshold. She filled the small shabby hall, she fell over the brushes +left by the general servant who had been scrubbing the oilcloth, not +expecting her ladyship; she sat uncomfortably on the green rep chairs of +the drawing-room staring at a Berlin-wool banner-screen which +represented a poodle with beads for his eyes, at the silver shavings in +the grate, and the school drawings, finished by the nuns, of the younger +Misses Gray. There were certain aspects of that drawing-room dear to +Mrs. Gray which Mary had been too tenderhearted to try to alter. + +There Mary had found her and had been moved in her innermost humorous +sense; but she had been glad to be friends with Robin's mother, and so +had done her best to advance the reconciliation. + +Lady Drummond had a surprising proposal to make. It seemed that her +friend, Lady Iniscrone, had placed at Miss Gray's disposal for the +wedding the big house on the Mall formerly occupied by Lady Anne +Hamilton. Lady Iniscrone wrote that they had heard of Miss Gray from a +friend of Lady Agatha Chenevix, and had felt interested in her progress +ever since. Of course, remembering the tie which had existed between +Lord Iniscrone's aunt and Miss Gray, Lord and Lady Iniscrone could never +be without interest in Miss Gray's progress. + +Mary smiled a smile of fine humour over the reading of the letter. At +first she was in the mood to refuse. But, being her father's daughter, +and so endowed with that sense of the comedy as well as the tragedy of +life which makes it easy to regard things and persons equably, she +consented at last. She would have preferred to be married from Wistaria +Terrace, but she had no difficulty in making a concession to Robin's +mother. + +So the wedding-breakfast was spread in the dining-room where she and +Lady Anne used to have their meals together. Mrs. Gray held a terrified +reception of the few fine folk whom Lady Drummond had declared it +necessary to ask in the long drawing-room with the three windows where +Lady Anne used to sit with little Fifine in her lap. + +Mary had wished to be married from the poor little house where she had +grown up, but on her wedding day she felt that she had done as Lady Anne +would have wished. There was nothing changed in the house: the +old-fashioned substantial furniture, the faded carpets and curtains, +were just the same. There were one or two familiar faces among the +servants. After all, Lord and Lady Iniscrone had used the house little, +since Lord Iniscrone had developed a chest affection which kept him +following the sun round the world for three-fourths of the year. + +The marriage had taken place earlier at the big, dim old church behind +which Wistaria Terrace hid itself away, and the few fine folk were not +bidden to the wedding but to the reception. A great many glittering +things were spread out on the tables in the long drawing-room. It was +surprising how many well-wishers the new Lady Drummond seemed to have in +the great world. Sir Denis Drummond had come over for the wedding, and +Nelly was a bridesmaid, with Mary's type-writing sister, Marcella. She +was a different Nelly from her of a couple of months earlier, her +delicacy gone, her old pretty bloom come back, her eyes bright as of +old. + +"Mrs. Langrishe wants me to return to her!" she confided to Mary, "but +we are going to Sherwood Square. You know, _he_ is on his way home. In a +week or two he will be on the sea. He must come to me, not find me there +waiting for him. Do you know, Mary, that though his mother and sister +have taken me to their hearts, he has not written me a line? You don't +suppose, Mary, that he could be going to keep silence _now_?" + +"Of course not," said Mary. "Seeing what you have suffered for him----" + +"He must never know that," Nelly said, with gentle dignity, "until he +has spoken. What should I do, Mary, if he never spoke? But I think +everyone would keep my secret, even his sister and mother. I asked them +not to speak of me in their letters. I am in suspense, Mary." + +"It will not be for long," the happy bride assured her. As though she +were wiser than another in knowing the way of any particular man with +any particular maid! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE INTERMEDIARY + + +Some time in December Captain Langrishe came home. + +Nelly knew the day and the hour that he was expected, but she was as +terrified of meeting him as though she had not had so much assurance of +his love for her. She knew the events of the day as though she had been +present at their happening. Cyprian Rooke's brother, a young, +distinguished doctor well on his way to Harley Street although only a +few discriminating people had found him out, had gone down to +Southampton with Mrs. Rooke and her mother to meet the invalid, who even +yet must bear traces of the terrible illness through which he had +passed. Nelly could see it all, from the moment the big boat came into +Southampton Docks till the arrival in London. Captain Langrishe was +going down to his sister's cottage in Sussex. The mother and sister, who +already claimed Nelly as their own, had been eager for her to be there +on their arrival, or to come later. But Nelly was adamant. + +"He must come to me," she said. "And I think the one thing I could not +forgive is that anyone should interfere: _anyone_, even you two whom I +dearly love. Promise me that you will not." + +They had promised her. They were women of discretion; and they felt that +now he was come back to them things might safely be left to take their +own course. To be sure, as soon as he could he would go to Nelly as to +his mate, naturally, joyfully. In an early letter, written before +Nelly's embargo, Mrs. Rooke had told him that Nelly's engagement had +been broken off. Later, she had conveyed the news that Robin Drummond +had consoled himself with rapidity, and was to be married to the Miss +Gray whose book on the conditions of women's labour among the poor had +made such a stir, and not only in political circles. Godfrey Langrishe +in his letters had not commented on these communications. + +"Let Godfrey be!" said the sister, who knew him with the thoroughness of +a nursery companion. "He will do his own wooing. He would not thank us +for doing it for him." + +All next day Nelly waited. After the very early morning she did not dare +go outdoors lest he should come in her absence. The General went off to +his club to be out of the way. At a quarter to seven he opened the door +with his latch-key and came in, more than half-expecting to find an +overcoat which did not belong to him in the hall. There was none; and he +went on to the drawing-room with a vague sense of disappointment. +Langrishe must have been and gone. + +In the drawing-room he found Nelly alone. + +"Well, papa," she said, as he came in, and offered no further remark. + +"No one been, Nell?" he asked, with a little foreboding. + +"No one." + +"Ah, well, to be sure the boat must have arrived late. They may not have +got back to town till to-day." + +The next day passed in the same way, and the next day. The fourth day +Nelly went out and did her Christmas shopping. She held her head high +now, in a spirited way which hurt her father to see, for her face was +very pale. That evening she put on a little scarlet silk dinner-jacket, +in which the General declared that she looked every inch a soldier's +daughter. But the brilliant colour only made her look paler by contrast. + +On the fifth day the General, instead of going to his club, went to see +Mrs. Rooke and fortunately found her at home. He hardly knew the little +woman, but she was a friend of Nell's and had been good to her. Besides, +he was so bent upon getting to the root of the business about Langrishe +and Nell that he felt no embarrassment on the subject of his errand. + +"My dear," he said, bowing over Mrs. Rooke's pretty hand--he had a +charming way with women--"I have come without my daughter knowing. +Perhaps she would never forgive me if she knew. Tell me: what is the +mystery about your brother? Why has he not been to see us?" + +"I am so glad you came to ask me, Sir Denis," Mrs. Rooke replied. "I was +just about to go to Nelly. Godfrey is so obstinate. The doctors cannot +say yet if he is going to be a cripple or not. His sword-arm was almost +slashed through. Jerome Rooke, my brother-in-law, says it will be all +right. On the other hand, Sir Simon Gresham shakes his head over it. +Godfrey is to see him again in a few weeks' time. He is waiting for his +verdict before he speaks to Nelly. My opinion is that if the verdict is +adverse he will never speak at all." + +"Why, God bless my soul, then!" shouted the General in his most +thunderous voice, "he must speak before! he must speak before! +Everything must be settled. They shall hear Sir Simon's verdict +together." + +Those people had been right who had called Sir Denis unworldly. Mrs. +Rooke blinked her pretty eyes before his outburst. + +"You know, of course, Sir Denis, that his profession will be closed to +him in case his arm doesn't get well. Godfrey has always felt that he +had too little to offer your daughter. But now--it will be a maimed life +if the worst happens. Both my mother and I appreciated Godfrey's +reasons. We could not say that he was not right. Poor Godfrey! I don't +know what he will do if he loses his profession. You know he was devoted +to his work." + +"I know, ma'am." The old soldier's eye lit up with a sudden spark. "In +any case, with the help of God, he will have Nell to comfort him. Your +brother's address is----" + +"You are going to him?" + +"It seems the one thing to do. I've no pride about offering my girl +where I know she is deeply loved." + +"You are a trump, General!" Mrs. Rooke said, with sparkling eyes. + +"Thank you, ma'am," the General answered, blushing like a school-boy. "I +was never one to sit with folded hands. The Lord didn't make me like it. +And I've asked His direction, ma'am; I've asked His direction humbly, +and I hope humbly that He is granting it to me." + +"Well, God speed you!" Mrs. Rooke said. "Godfrey will be good to Nelly, +Sir Denis. He has always been so trustworthy. And he has had so many +hard knocks. He deserves happiness in the end." + +"He shall have it, with the help of God." + +The General never made any forecast without the latter proviso, although +that was often said only in the silence of his heart. + +The railway journey, unlike the last made in the cause of Nelly's +happiness, went without a hitch. The day was a beautiful, bright, +sunshiny one, with clear skies overhead. The General had the carriage to +himself, so that he was able to sit with both windows open as he liked +it. He felt the winter air quite invigorating as the train rushed +through the pale golden landscape. Robins were singing in the bare +trees, which showed their every twig outlined delicately against the +pale sky. The brown coppices and hedges by which the train hurried were +bright with the scarlet of many berries. + +The General, sitting up spare and erect--he had never lolled in his +life, and held all such soft ways only suitable for ladies--contrasted +the journey with the last; and took the radiant day like a good omen. He +wished Nell could have been with him to have the roses blown in her +cheeks by the delicious fresh wind. However, he was going to bring her +home roses, pink roses; the white rose in his Nelly's cheek did not at +all please him. + +The little house was quite near the railway, a gabled, two-storied +cottage with diamond-paned windows, and creepers and roses all over its +walls. Even yet on the sheltered side there was a monthly rose or two on +the leafless bushes. The house basked in the sun; and Mrs. Langrishe's +red-and-white collie came to meet the General, wagging his tail with a +friendly greeting. + +The maid who opened the door smiled on him. She knew him for Miss +Nelly's father; and Nelly had a way of making herself beloved by +servants wherever she went, and not only because she was ready always to +empty her little purse among them. + +Mrs. Langrishe? Mrs. Langrishe was out, but was expected in to lunch. +The Captain had just come in. Would Sir Denis see him? + +Sir Denis would see the Captain. He followed the maid through the clean, +orderly little house, every inch of it shining with the perfection of +cleanliness, to the study at the back which opened on the garden. +Captain Langrishe was sitting in a chair in a dejected attitude at the +moment the General first caught sight of him. He sprang to his feet, +turning red and pale when he saw who his visitor was. + +"Well, my lad," the General said, taking the uninjured left hand in a +cordial grip. "And how do you feel?" + +Langrishe looked up at him with shy eyes. + +"To tell the truth, Sir Denis, not very cheerful. I have been, in fact, +keeping company with the blue devils pretty well since I came home. You +know----" + +"Yes, I know. We must hope for the best. But, if you can't carry a sword +any longer, why it must mean that the Master of us all has another post +for you. And now, why didn't you come to Sherwood Square?" + +"I couldn't, with this in suspense," Langrishe stammered. "It is most +kind of you to come to see me." + +"My dear boy," the General put his hand on Langrishe's shoulder, "you +must come, with this in suspense. Do you know that my girl has looked +for you day after day?" + +The young man flushed and stared at the General's kind face in +bewilderment. + +"I would rather die than cause her a minute's pain," he said, with quiet +fervour. + +"You have caused her a good many," the General said grimly. "Not +willingly, I am sure of that, or I wouldn't be here. Haven't you heard +how she suffered? Why, God bless my soul, I was afraid at one time that +I might be going to lose her; and all through you, young man--all +through you. Now I'll have no more shilly-shally. If Nell is fond of you +and you are fond of Nell----" + +"God knows how I love her!" Langrishe cried out, a glow of passion +lighting up his worn, dark face. "But you don't understand, Sir Denis. I +feel sure you don't understand. I have nothing in the world but my +sword. My uncle, Sir Peter, gave me that. He gave me nothing else. Lady +Langrishe, who nursed my uncle through an attack of the gout before he +married her, has just presented him with an heir. I have no hopes from +my uncle. If I lose my sword-arm I lose everything. I am likely to lose +my sword-arm, Sir Denis." + +"Whether you do or whether you do not is in the hands of God," the +General said. "I don't think Nell will mind very much if your sword-arm +is ineffectual or not. You've done enough for honour, anyhow. And I'm +not going to betray any more of the child's secrets. You'd better come +and hear them yourself. I'll tell you what: come on Christmas Day. Come +to lunch and bring your bag with you. I daresay you won't want to cut +your visit short?" + +"You really mean it, Sir Denis?" + +"Mean it, my lad? I've meant it for a long time. I've watched your +career, Langrishe. I know pretty well all about you. You'd never give me +credit for half the cunning I've got." The General rubbed his hands +softly together and tried to look Machiavellian, failing ludicrously in +the attempt. "There's no man I would more willingly trust my girl to. +Why, I went after you to Tilbury when you were going out--to find out +what you meant. I'll tell you about it." + +For the moment the General forgot completely how he had man[oe]uvred in +the second place to marry Nelly to Robin Drummond. In fact, he didn't +remember about it till he was going home, and then, after a momentary +shamefacedness about his unintentional disingenuousness, he decided, +like a sensible man, that there was no use talking about that now. + +Before that time, however, he had lunched with Mrs. Langrishe and her +son after a talk with the latter. Now that he had succeeded in breaking +down the lover's scruples, Godfrey Langrishe was only too anxious to +fling himself into the next train and be carried off to his love. But +the General would not have it so, though he was pleased at the young +man's impatience. + +"It wants but five days to Christmas Day," he said. "Come then. You can +spare him, ma'am?" to Mrs. Langrishe. + +"I have had to spare him for less happy things," the mother responded +cheerfully. + +There was no happier old soldier in all his Majesty's dominions than was +Sir Denis Drummond on his homeward journey. In fact, he found himself +several times displaying his gratification so evidently in his face that +people smiled and looked significantly at each other. One lady whispered +to another of the Christmas spirit. + +It was by a stern effort of his will that he composed his face as he +went up the stairs of his own house. He didn't deceive Pat, who had +admitted him--for once the General had forgotten his latch-key. Pat +reported to Bridget: + +"Sorra wan o' me knows what's come to the master; he's gone up the +stairs, and the heart of him that light that his foot is only touchin' +the ground in an odd place." + +"'Twill be somethin' good for Miss Nelly then," Bridget replied sagely. + +The General schooled his face to wear an absurdly transparent look of +gloom as he entered the drawing-room, but it was quite wasted on Nelly, +who didn't look at him. She had a screen between her face and the fire +as she sat in her fireside chair, and her little pale, hurt, haughty +profile showed up clearly against the peacock's feathers of the screen. + +The General had meant to have some play with Nell, but that forlorn look +of hers went to his heart. + +"I saw Langrishe to-day, Nell," he said. "He's coming for Christmas. We +can put him up--hey?" + +"Papa!" + +He heard the incredulously joyful half-whisper, and he felt the pang +that comes to all fathers at such a moment. Nell was not going to be +only his ever again. He had been enough for her once on a time; yet, +here she was, come to womanhood, breaking her heart for a stranger. + +"If I were you, Nell," he said gently, "I'd be seeing about my +wedding-clothes." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +NOEL! NOEL! + + +Captain Langrishe arrived only just in time for lunch on the Christmas +Day. By the time he had been shown his room and had deposited his bag +and returned to the drawing-room it was time for the luncheon-bell. + +The meeting between Nelly and himself would have seemed to outsiders a +cold one. To be sure, it took place under the General's eye. One might +have supposed that the General would have absented himself from that +lovers' meeting, but as a matter of fact he did not. Nelly's flush, the +shy, burning look which Langrishe sent her from his dark eyes, were +enough for the two principals. For the rest, all seemed to be of the +most ordinary. No one could have supposed that for the two persons +mainly concerned this was the most wonderful Christmas Day there ever +had been since the beginning. + +During lunch Langrishe talked mainly to the General. They had plenty to +talk about. The General found it necessary to apologise to Nelly for +"talking shop," an apology which was tendered in a whimsical spirit and +received in the same. Pat, waiting at table, quite forgot that he was +Sir Denis Drummond's manservant, listening to the stirring tale; and was +once again Corporal Murphy, back in "th' ould rig'mint." In fact, he +once almost forgot himself so far as to put in an eager comment, but +fortunately pulled himself up in time. He mentioned afterwards to +Bridget that the Captain's talk had nearly brought him to the point of +"joinin'" again. "Only that I remembered that at last you'd consinted to +my spakin' to Sir Denis I couldn't have held myself in, Bridget, my +jewel," he said. "But the thought of gettin' kilt before ever I'd made +you Mrs. Murphy was too much for me." + +There was considerable excitement in the servants' hall over Captain +Langrishe's presence. Pat, of course, knew all about him since he +belonged to "th' ould rig'mint"; but it was through Bridget's feminine +perspicacity that it broke on the amazed couple that it was for him Miss +Nelly had been breaking her heart all the time. + +"It 'ud do you good," said Pat, "to see the way she carries her little +sojer's jacket, and the holly berries on her pretty head like a crown." + +To be sure, the younger ones of the servants' hall were talking too, and +they even approached Pat, who outside the duties of his office was not +awesome, for the satisfaction of their curiosity. + +"Just wait," said Pat oracularly, "an' ye'll see what ye'll see." + +The speech meant nothing to Pat's own mind except that they would be all +wiser later on. However, it went nearer the mark than he had intended. + +The afternoon of Christmas Day was always the occasion for a Christmas +Tree. Everyone in the house was remembered in the distribution of +presents, even the dogs. The tree was set up in the servants' hall and +the General had never omitted to distribute the presents himself in all +the years they had been at Sherwood Square. He had mentioned the tree to +Langrishe at lunch, apologising for asking his assistance at so homely +an occasion. His eye twinkled as he said it; and rather to Nelly's +bewilderment the young man blushed like a girl. Apparently he had heard +of the Christmas Tree before, for he made no comment. + +After lunch the lovers were a little while alone. Sir Denis had his +secrecies about the Tree, gifts which had to go on at the last moment +and to be placed there by himself. When he came back to the drawing-room +he was aware from the looks of the young couple that everything had been +satisfactorily arranged between them. He looked as cheerful himself as +anyone could desire. While he put those last touches to the Tree he had +been thinking how good it was that he was going to have his children to +himself, no troublesome Dowager with her claims and exactions to come +between them. For a long time to come, anyhow, Langrishe must be off +active service; and they would all be together in the kind, spacious old +house. And presently there would be Nelly's children. Please God he +would live to deck the Tree for the delight of Nelly's children! It was +the thought of the golden heads of the little lads and lasses yet to be +dancing about the Tree that brought the dimness to his eyes, the look of +happy dreams to his face. + +The Tree was far from being a perfunctory, haphazard affair. Everything +had been thought out and planned beforehand. The servants sat in a +circle with eager, expectant faces. In front of them was a circle of +dogs. The dogs' presents were not much of a novelty. A new collar for +one, a new basket for another, a medal for the oldest of the dogs; the +possible gifts were very soon exhausted, but they made hilarity, and the +dogs barked as they received their gifts as though they understood and +enjoyed it all, as no doubt they did. + +There was a delightful sensation for the servants' hall when the gold +watch which had been hanging near the top of the tree was handed down, +and its inscription proved to be: "To Bridget Burke, on the occasion of +her marriage to Patrick Murphy, with the affection and esteem of the +master and Miss Nelly." The servants' hall broke into cheers. They had +all known that there was something between Bridget and Pat, but the +thing had hung fire so long that it might well have hung fire for ever. +Pat's present was a ten-pound note for the honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs. +Murphy were to have a fortnight together after their marriage in some +seaside place, before settling down to their old duties. Sir Denis had +made Pat the offer of a cottage in the country, but this Pat had +refused, to his master's great relief. "Sure, what would you do without +me?" he said. "I was thinking the same myself," responded the General. + +The General had it in his mind that presently, when those children came, +it might be necessary to give up Sherwood Square and live in the country +for their sakes. A little place in Ireland now, the General thought, +where there was always plenty of sport and good-fellowship. However, +that might wait. But the thought was a sweet one, to be turned over in +the old man's mind. + +Sometimes the present took odd shapes. There was a young housemaid whose +eyes were ringed about with black circles, eyes pale with much weeping. +Her mother was ill among the Essex marshes, and the only chance for her +life, said the doctors, was to get her away to a mild, bracing place for +some months. Bournemouth would do very well. Bournemouth? Why, Heaven +was much more accessible, it seemed, than Bournemouth for the poor +mother of many children. + +"Emma Brooks," said the General. "I wonder what's in this envelope for +Emma Brooks." + +Poor Emma came up, smiling a wavering smile that was on the edge of +tears. She took the envelope, peered within it, and then cried out, "Oh, +God bless you, sir!" It contained a letter of admission to a +convalescent home at Bournemouth for six months, and the money for the +expenses of getting there. "It's my mother's life, sir," cried Emma. +"You shall go home to-morrow, my girl, and take her there," said the +General. "I'll pay whatever is necessary." + +At last the Tree was stripped of nearly everything but its candles and +its bright dingle-dangles. There was a little basket at the foot of the +Tree addressed to the General, which had been moving about in a peculiar +way during the proceedings, and had been a source of much fascinated +interest to the dogs. On its being opened a fat, waddling, brindle +bull-dog puppy sidled himself out of a warm bed, and made straight for +the General's feet. A puppy was something Sir Denis never could resist, +and though there were already several dogs at Sherwood Square, all +desperately jealous at the moment and being held in by the servants, he +discovered that he had wanted a brindled bull-dog all his life. + +"But what is that," he asked, "up there at the top of the Tree? Why, I +was near forgetting it. Come here, Pat, you rascal, and hand it down to +me. It's a pretty, shining thing for my Nelly, as bright as her eyes. +Hand it down to me, Pat. I want to put it on her pretty neck." + +The gift was a beautiful flexible snake of opals in gold, with diamonds +for its eyes and its forked tongue, such a jewel as the heart of woman +could not resist. The General himself clasped the ornament on Nelly's +neck, where it lay emitting soft fires of milky rose and emerald. + +There was a little pause. The Tree seemed to be finished. The women-folk +began to clear their throats for the _Adeste Fideles_ with which the +festivity concluded. Afterwards there was to be a glass of champagne all +round. + +The pause, however, was a device of the General's to give more effect to +what was to follow. Captain Langrishe had been standing apart, his shy +and modest air commending him the more to the women who thought him so +handsome and the men who knew him for heroic; for had not Pat sung his +praises? And to be sure, the women's hearts swelled at beholding a hero +taking part in their own particular festivity of the year, a hero that +is to say with his heroism brand-new upon him and from the outside +world, so to speak. They were so accustomed to a hero for a master all +the year round, that in that particular connection they hardly thought +upon him. + +"I believe, after all," said Sir Denis, as though he were talking to +children--it was his way with women and children and dependents and +animals--"I believe there's something for my girl which she'll think +more of than anything else. It's hidden just down here at the foot of +the Tree, and might very easily be over-looked if one didn't know +beforehand that it was there. Captain Langrishe, will you give this +little packet to my Nelly? It's your gift. She'll like it from you." + +Langrishe came forward, looking radiantly happy and handsome, and +wearing withal that look of becoming shyness. He extracted from +somewhere near the roots of the Tree a white paper-covered packet, very +tiny and tied with blue ribbon, which he undid with quick, nervous +fingers. When he had laid the covering aside it revealed itself as a +little ring-case. Opening it, he took out a beautiful old-fashioned +ring, a large pearl surrounded by diamonds. He held it for a second +between his fingers; and turning round he went to Nelly's side and +taking her hand lifted it to his lips. Then he slipped the ring on to +her third finger. + +"My dear friends," said the General in an agitated voice, "I am very +happy to announce to you the engagement of my daughter to Captain +Langrishe." + +At that the cheering broke out, led by Pat. As the dogs joined in, and +even the brindle puppy added his shrill note, there was the happiest, +merriest uproar lasting over several minutes, during which the General +stood, looking proudly from the shy and smiling lovers to those +dependants whom he had really made his friends. + +And at last, when the pause came, the General spoke: + +"And now, my friends," he said, "to show that God is not forgotten in +our happiness and in our grateful hearts, we will sing the _Adeste +Fideles_." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Gray, by Katharine Tynan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY GRAY *** + +***** This file should be named 20201-8.txt or 20201-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/2/0/20201/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + +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. 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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: Mary Gray + +Author: Katharine Tynan + +Release Date: December 27, 2006 [EBook #20201] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY GRAY *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1><span class="smcap">Mary Gray</span></h1> + +<h2>BY KATHARINE TYNAN</h2> + +<h3><i>Author of "Julia," "The Story of Bawn," "Her Ladyship," "For Maisie," +etc., etc.</i></h3> + +<h3>WITH FOUR COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. H. TAFFS</h3> + +<h4>CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED<br /> +<span class="smcap">London, Paris, New York, Toronto and Melbourne</span><br /> +1909<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h4> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/mg001.jpg"><img src="images/mg001.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> + +<h3>"The men would salute their old General, the General salute his old regiment"</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. <span class="smcap">Wistaria Terrace</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. <span class="smcap">The Wall Between</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. <span class="smcap">The New Estate</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. <span class="smcap">Boy and Girl</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. "<span class="smcap">Old Blood and Thunder</span>"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. <span class="smcap">The Blue Ribbon</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. <span class="smcap">A Chance Meeting</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. <span class="smcap">Groves of Academe</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. <span class="smcap">The Race with Death</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. <span class="smcap">Dispossessed</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. <span class="smcap">The Lion</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. <span class="smcap">Her Ladyship</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. <span class="smcap">The Heart of a Father</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. <span class="smcap">Lovers' Parting</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. <span class="smcap">The General has an Idea</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. <span class="smcap">The Leading and the Light</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. <span class="smcap">A Night of Spring</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. <span class="smcap">Halcyon Weather</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. <span class="smcap">Wild Thyme and Violets</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. <span class="smcap">Jealousy, Cruel as the Grave</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. <span class="smcap">Two Women</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. <span class="smcap">Light on the Way</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. <span class="smcap">The News in the <i>Westminster</i></span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. <span class="smcap">The Friend</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. <span class="smcap">The One Woman</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. <span class="smcap">Golden Days</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. <span class="smcap">The Intermediary</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. <span class="smcap">Noel! Noel!</span></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p>[Transcriber's note: This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project. Only the Frontispiece was +included in the scans.]</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">The men would salute their old General, the General salute his old +regiment</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir Robin Drummond had come to Mary's side, and turned the page of +her music</span>"</p> + +<p>"'<span class="smcap">Do you know what I came here in the mind to ask you?</span>'"</p> + +<p>"'<span class="smcap">Miss Nelly is in the drawing-room, sir</span>'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MARY_GRAY" id="MARY_GRAY"></a>MARY GRAY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>WISTARIA TERRACE</h3> + + +<p>The house where Mary Gray was born and grew towards womanhood was one of +a squat line of mean little houses that hid themselves behind a great +church. The roadway in front of the houses led only to the back entrance +of the church. Over against the windows was the playground of the church +schools, surrounded by a high wall that shut away field and sky from the +front rooms of Wistaria Terrace.</p> + +<p>The houses were drab and ugly, with untidy grass-plots in front. They +presented an exterior of three windows and a narrow round-topped +hall-door which was a confession of poverty in itself. Five out of six +houses had a ramping plaster horse in the fanlight of the hall door, a +fixture which went with the house and was immune from breakage because +no one ever thought of cleaning the fanlights.</p> + +<p>In the back gardens the family wash was put to dry. Some of the more +enterprising inhabitants kept fowls; but there was not much enterprise +in Wistaria Terrace.</p> + +<p>Earlier inhabitants had planted the gardens with lilac and laburnum +bushes, with gooseberries and currants. There were no flowers there that +did not sow themselves year after year. They were damp, grubby places, +but even there an imaginative child like Mary Gray could find +suggestions of delight.</p> + +<p>Mary's father, Walter Gray, was employed at a watchmaker's of repute. He +spent all his working life with a magnifying glass in his eye, peering +into the mechanism of watches, adjusting the delicate pivots and springs +on which their lives moved. His occupation had perhaps encouraged in him +a habit of introspection. Perhaps he found the human machine as worthy +of interest as the works of watches and clocks. Anyhow, in his leisure +moments, which were few, he would discuss curiously with Mary the hidden +springs that kept the human machine in motion, the strange workings and +convolutions of it. From the very early age when she began to be a +comfort and a companion to her father, Mary had been accustomed to such +speculations as would have written Walter Gray down a madman if he had +shared them with the grown people about him rather than with a child.</p> + +<p>Mary was the child of his romance, of his first marriage, which had +lasted barely a year.</p> + +<p>He never talked of her mother, even to Mary, though she had vague +memories of a time when he had not been so reticent. That was before the +stepmother came, the stepmother whom, honestly, Walter Gray had married +because his child was neglected. He had not anticipated, perhaps, the +long string of children which was to result from the marriage, whose +presence in the world was to make Mary's lot a more strenuous one than +would have been the case if she had been a child alone.</p> + +<p>Not that Mary grumbled about the stepbrothers and sisters. Year after +year, from the time she could stagger under the weight of a baby, she +had received a new burden for her arms, and had found enough love for +each newcomer.</p> + +<p>The second Mrs. Gray was a poor, puny, washed-out little rag of a woman, +whose one distinction was the number of her children. They had always +great appetites to be satisfied. As soon as they began to run about, the +rapidity with which they wore out their boots and the knees of their +trousers, and outgrew their frocks, was a subject upon which Mrs. Gray +could expatiate for hours. Mary had a tender, strong pity from the +earliest age for the down-at-heel, over-burdened stepmother, which +lightened her own load, as did the vicarious, motherly love which came +to her for each succeeding fat baby.</p> + +<p>Mary was nurse and nursery-governess to all the family. Wistaria Terrace +had one great recompense for its humble and hidden condition. It was +within easy reach of the fields and the mountains. For an adventurous +spirit the sea was not at an insuperable distance. Indeed, but for the +high wall of the school playground, the lovely line of mountains had +been well in view. As it was, many a day in summer Mary would carry off +her train of children to the fields, with a humble refection of bread +and butter and jam, and milk for their mid-day meal; and these occasions +allowed Mrs. Gray a few hours of peace that were like a foretaste of +Paradise.</p> + +<p>She never grumbled, poor little woman, because her husband shared his +thoughts with Mary and not with her. Whatever ambitions she had had to +rise to her Walter's level—she had an immense opinion of his +learning—had long been extinguished under the accumulation of toils and +burdens that made up her daily life. She was fond of Mary, and leant on +her strangely, considering their relative ages. For the rest, she toiled +with indifferent success at household tasks, and was grateful for having +a husband so absorbed in distant speculations that he was insensible of +the near discomfort of a badly-cooked dinner or a buttonless shirt.</p> + +<p>The gardens of the houses opened on a lane which was a sort of +rubbish-shoot for the houses that gave upon it. Across the lane was a +row of stabling belonging to far more important houses than Wistaria +Terrace. Beyond the stables and stable yards were old gardens with shady +stretches of turf and forest trees enclosed within their walls. Beyond +the gardens rose the fine old-fashioned houses of the Mall, big Georgian +houses that looked in front across the roadway at the line of elm-trees +that bordered the canal. The green waters of the canal, winding placidly +through its green channel, with the elm-trees reflected greenly in its +green depths, had a suggestion of Holland.</p> + +<p>The lane was something of an adventure to the children of Wistaria +Terrace. There, any day, you might see a coachman curry-combing his +satin-skinned horses, hissing between his teeth by way of encouragement, +after the time-honoured custom. Or you might see a load of hay lifted up +by a windlass into the loft above the stables. Or you might assist at +the washing of a carriage. Sometimes the gate at the farther side of the +stable was open, and a gardener would come through with a barrowful of +rubbish to add to the accumulation already in the lane.</p> + +<p>Through the open gateway the children would catch glimpses of Fairyland. +A broad stretch of shining turf dappled with sun and shade. Tall +snapdragons and lilies and sweet-williams and phlox in the garden-beds. +A fruit tree or two, heavy with blossom or fruit.</p> + +<p>Only old-fashioned people lived in the Mall nowadays, and the glimpses +the children caught of the owners of those terrestrial paradises fitted +in with the idea of fairyland. They were always old ladies and +gentlemen, and they were old-fashioned in their attire, but very +magnificent. There was one old lady who was the very Fairy Godmother of +the stories. She was the one who had the magnificent mulberry-tree in +her garden. One day in every year the children were called in to strip +the tree of its fruit; and that was a great day for Wistaria Terrace.</p> + +<p>The children were allowed to bring basins to carry away what they could +not eat; and benevolent men-servants would ascend to the overweighted +boughs of the tree by ladders and pick the fruit and load up the +children's basins with it. Again, the apples would be distributed in +their season. While the distribution went on, the old lady would stand +at a window with her little white dog in her arms nodding her head in a +well-pleased way. The children called her Lady Anne. They had no such +personal acquaintance with the other gardens and their owners, so their +thoughts were very full of Lady Anne and her garden.</p> + +<p>When Mary was about fourteen she made the acquaintance of Lady Anne—her +full name was Lady Anne Hamilton—and that was an event which had a +considerable influence on her fortunes. The meeting came about in this +way.</p> + +<p>Mary had gone marketing one day, and for once had deserted the shabby +little row of shops which ran at the end of Wistaria Terrace, at right +angles to it. She had gone out into the great main thoroughfare, the +noise of which came dimly to Wistaria Terrace because of the huge mass +of the church blocking up the way.</p> + +<p>She had done her shopping and was on her way home, when, right in the +track of the heavy tram as it came down the steep descent from the +bridge over the canal, she saw a helpless bit of white fur, as it might +well seem to anyone at a distance. The thing was almost motionless, or +stirring so feebly that its movements were not apparent. Evidently the +driver of the tram had not noticed it, or was not troubled to save its +life, for he stood with the reins in his hand, glancing from side to +side of the road for possible passengers as the tram swept down the long +incline.</p> + +<p>Mary never hesitated. The tram was almost upon the thing when she first +saw it. "Why, it is Lady Anne's dog!" she cried, and launched herself +out in the roadway to save it. She was just in time to pick up the +blind, whimpering thing. The driver of the tram, seeing Mary in its +path, put on the brakes sharply. The tram lumbered to a stoppage, but +not before Mary had been flung down on her face and her arm broken by +the hoof of the horse nearest her.</p> + +<p>It was likely to be an uncommonly awkward thing for the Gray household, +seeing that it was Mary's right arm that was injured. For one thing, it +would involve the dispossession of that year's baby. For another, it +would put Mrs. Gray's capable helper entirely out of action.</p> + +<p>When Mary was picked up, and stood, wavering unsteadily, supported by +someone in the crowd which had gathered, hearing, as from a great +distance, the snarling and scolding of the tram-driver, who was afraid +of finding himself in trouble, she still held the blind and whimpering +dog in her uninjured arm.</p> + +<p>She wanted to get away as quickly as possible from the crowd, but her +head swam and her feet were uncertain. Then she heard a quiet voice +behind her.</p> + +<p>"Has there been an accident? I am a doctor," it said.</p> + +<p>"A young woman trying to kill herself along of an old dog," said the +tram-driver indignantly. "As though there wasn't enough trouble for a +man already."</p> + +<p>"Let me see," the doctor said, coming to Mary's side. "Ah, I can't make +an examination here. Better come with me, my child. I am on my way to +the hospital. My carriage is here."</p> + +<p>"Not to hospital," said Mary faintly. "Let me go home; they would be so +frightened."</p> + +<p>"I shan't detain you, I promise you. But this must be bandaged before +you can go home. Ah, is this basket yours, too?"</p> + +<p>Someone had handed up the basket from the tram-track, where it had lain +disgorging cabbages and other articles of food.</p> + +<p>"I will send you home as soon as I have seen to your arm," the doctor +said, pushing her gently towards his carriage. "And the little dog—is +he your own? I suppose he is, since you nearly gave your life for him?"</p> + +<p>"He is not mine," said Mary faintly. "He belongs to Lady Anne—Lady Anne +Hamilton. She lives at No. 8, The Mall. She will be distracted if she +misses the little dog. She is so very fond of it."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Lady Anne Hamilton. I have heard of her. We can leave the dog at +home on our way. Come, child."</p> + +<p>The Mall was quite close at hand. They drove there, and just as the +carriage stopped at the gate of No. 8, which had a long strip of green +front garden, overhung by trees through which you could discern the old +red-brick house. Lady Anne herself came down the gravel path. Over her +head was a little shawl of old lace; it was caught by a seed-pearl +brooch with an amethyst centre. She was wearing a quilted red silk +petticoat and a bunched sacque of black flowered silk. She had +magnificent dark eyes and white hair. Under it her peaked little face +was the colour of old ivory. She was calling to her dog, "Fifine, +Fifine, where can you be?"</p> + +<p>A respectable-looking elderly maid came hurrying after her.</p> + +<p>"I've looked everywhere, my lady, and I cannot find the little thing," +she said in a frightened voice.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the doctor had got out of the carriage and had taken Fifine +gently from Mary's lap. Now that Mary was coming to herself she began to +discover that the doctor was young and kind-looking, but more careworn +than his youth warranted. He opened the garden gate and went up to Lady +Anne.</p> + +<p>"Is this your little dog, madam?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"My Fifine, my darling!" cried Lady Anne, embracing the trembling bit of +wool. "You don't know what she is to me, sir. My little grandson"—the +imperious old voice shook—"loved the dog. She was his pet. The child is +dead. You understand——"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said the doctor. "I, too—I know what loss is. The little +dog strayed. She was found in the High Road. I am very glad to restore +her to you; but pray do not thank me. There is a young girl in my +carriage at the gate. She picked up your dog from under the wheels of a +tramcar, and broke her arm, I fear, in doing it. I am on my way to the +hospital, the House of Mercy, where I am doing work for a friend who is +on holiday. I am taking her with me so that I may set the arm where I +have all the appliances."</p> + +<p>"She saved my Fifine? Heroic child! Let me thank her."</p> + +<p>The old lady clutched her recovered treasure to her breast with fervour, +then handed the dog over to the maid.</p> + +<p>"Take me to see Fifine's preserver," she said in a commanding voice.</p> + +<p>Mary was almost swooning with the pain of her arm. She heard Lady Anne's +praises as though from a long distance off.</p> + +<p>"Stay, doctor," the old lady said; "I cannot have her jolted over the +paving-stones of the city to the Mercy. Bring her in here. We need not +detain you very long. We can procure splints and bandages, all you +require, from a chemist's shop. There is one just round the corner. +What, do you say, child? They will be frightened about you at home! I +shall send word. Be quiet now; you must let us do everything for you."</p> + +<p>So the doctor assisted Mary into the old house behind the trees. Lady +Anne walked the other side of her, pretending to assist Mary and really +imagining that she did.</p> + +<p>The splints and the bandages were on, and Mary had borne the pain well.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I must go," said the doctor, looking at his watch. "I am +half an hour behind my time. And where am I to visit my patient?"</p> + +<p>"Where but here?" said Lady Anne with decision. "It is now half-past +eleven. I have lunch at half-past one. Could you return to lunch, +Dr.—ah, Dr. Carruthers. You are Dr. Carruthers, are you not? You took +the big house at the corner of Magnolia Road a year ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am Dr. Carruthers; and I shall be very pleased to return to +lunch, Lady Anne. I don't think the little dog is any the worse for her +experience."</p> + +<p>His face was flushed as he stood with his hat in his hand, bowing and +smiling. If only Lady Anne Hamilton would take him up! That big house at +the corner of Magnolia Road had been a daring bid for fortune. So had +the neat, single brougham, hired from a livery-stable. So had been the +three smart maids. But so far Fortune had not favoured him. He was one +of fifty or so waiters on Fortune. When people were ill in the smart +suburban neighbourhood they liked to be attended by Dr. Pownall, who +always drove a pair of hundred guinea horses. None of your hired +broughams for them.</p> + +<p>"You are paying too big a rent for a young man," said Lady Anne. "You +can't have made it or anything like made it. Pownall grows careless. The +last time I sent for him he kept me two hours waiting. When I had him to +Stewart, my maid, he was in a hurry to be gone. Pownall has too much to +do—too much by half."</p> + +<p>Her eyes rested thoughtfully on the agitated Dr. Carruthers.</p> + +<p>"You shall tell me all about it when you come back to lunch," she said; +"and I should like to call on your wife."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE WALL BETWEEN</h3> + + +<p>"The child has brought us luck—luck at last, Mildred," Dr. Carruthers +was saying, a few hours later. "When I lifted her in my arms she was as +light as a feather. A poor little shabby, overworked thing, all eyes, +and too big a forehead. Her boots were broken, and I noticed that her +fingers were rough with hard work."</p> + +<p>He was walking up and down his wife's drawing-room in a tremendous state +of excitement, while she smiled at him from the sofa.</p> + +<p>"It is wonderful, coming just now, too, when I had made up my mind that +we couldn't keep afloat here much longer, and had resolved to give up +this house at the September quarter and retire into a dingier part of +the town. Once it is known that I am Lady Anne Hamilton's medical man +the snobs of the neighbourhood will all be sending for me."</p> + +<p>"Poor Dr. Pownall!" said Mrs. Carruthers, laughing softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Pownall is all right. They say he's immensely wealthy. He can +retire now and enjoy his money. If the public did not go back on him +he'd be a dead man in five or six years. He does the work of twenty men. +I pity the others, the poor devils who are waiting on fortune as I have +waited."</p> + +<p>"There is no fear of Lady Anne disappointing you?" she asked, in a +hesitating voice. She did not like to seem to throw cold water on his +joyful mood.</p> + +<p>"There is no fear," he answered, standing midway of the room with its +three large windows. "She is coming to see you, Milly. If I have failed +in anything you will succeed. You will see me at the top of the tree +yet. You will have cause to be proud of me."</p> + +<p>"I am always proud of you. Kit," she said, in a low, impassioned voice.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Lady Anne herself had made a pilgrimage to Wistaria Terrace +in the hour preceding the luncheon hour. She had left Mary in a deep +chair in the big drawing-room. Outside were the boughs of trees. From +the windows you could surprise the secrets of the birds if you would. +The room was very spacious, with chairs and sofas round the walls, a +great mirror at either end, a paper on its walls which pretended to be +panels wreathed in roses. The ceiling had a gay picture of gods and +goddesses reclining in a flowery mead. The mantelpiece was Carrara +marble, curiously inlaid with coloured wreaths. There was a fire in the +brass grate, although it was summer weather. The proximity of the trees +and the natural climate of the place meant damp. The fire sparkled in +the brass dogs and the brass jambs of the fireplace. The skin of a tiger +stretched itself along the floor. The terrible teeth grinned almost at +Mary's feet.</p> + +<p>The child was sick and faint from the pain of having her arm set. She +lay in the deep sofa, covered with red damask, amid a bewildering +softness of cushions and rugs, and wondered what Lady Anne was saying to +Mamie. Mamie was Mrs. Gray. From the first Mary had not called her +Mother. Her name was Matilda, and Mamie was a sort of compromise.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Lady Anne had gone out by her garden, through the stable, and +into the lane at the back. There was a little door open in the opposite +wall; beyond it was a shabby trellis with scarlet-runners clambering +upon it.</p> + +<p>Lady Anne peeped within. A disheartened-looking woman was hanging a +child's frock on the line which was stretched from wall to wall. Three +children, ranging in age from two to five, were sitting on the grass +plot. Two were playing with white stones. The third was surveying its +own small feet with great interest, sucking at a fat thumb as though it +conveyed some delicious nourishment.</p> + +<p>"Do I speak to Mrs. Gray?" asked Lady Anne, advancing. She had a +sunshade over her head, a deep-fringed thing with a folding handle. She +had bought it in Paris in the days of the Second Empire.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gray stared at the stranger within her gates, whom she knew by +sight. There was some perturbation in her face. She had been worried +about the unusual duration of Mary's absence. Mary had not come back +with the market basket which contained the children's dinner. At one +o'clock the four elder ones would be upon her, ravening. What on earth +had become of Mary? The poor woman had not realised how much she +depended on Mary, since Mary was always present and always willing to +take the burdens off her stepmother's thin, stooped shoulders on to her +own.</p> + +<p>Now she caught sight of the market-basket. One of Lady Anne's +white-capped maids had come in and deposited it quietly.</p> + +<p>"Mary?" she gasped. "What has become of Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Pray don't frighten yourself," said Lady Anne. "I have a message +from Mary. She is at my house. As a matter of fact, she met with an +accident. There—don't go so pale. It is only a matter of time. Her arm +is broken. She got it broken in saving the life of my little Maltese, +who had strayed out and had got in the way of the tram. I always said +that those trams should not be allowed. The tracks are so very +unpleasant—dangerous even, for the carriages of gentlefolk. There is +far too much traffic allowed on the public highways nowadays, far too +much. People ought to walk if they cannot keep carriages."</p> + +<p>She broke off abruptly and looked at the three small children.</p> + +<p>"These are yours?" she asked. "They seem very close together in age."</p> + +<p>"A year and a half, three years, four years and three months," said Mrs. +Gray, forgetting in her special cause for pride her awe of Lady Anne.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, I should have thought they were all twins," said the old lady. +"How very remarkable! Have you any more?"</p> + +<p>"Four at school. The eldest is nine. You see, they came so quickly, my +lady. Only for Mary I don't know how I should have reared them."</p> + +<p>"H'm! Mary is very stunted. It struck me that she would have been tall +if she had had a chance. Those heavy babies, doubtless. Well, I am going +to keep Mary for a while. How will you do without her?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gray's faded eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine, my lady. You see, we have never kept a servant. When I +lived at home with my Mamma we always had three. Mr. Gray has literary +attainments, my lady. He is not practical."</p> + +<p>"I can send you an excellent charwoman," Lady Anne broke in, "for the +present. I will see what is to be done about Mary. The child has +rendered me an inestimable service. I must do something for her in +return. By the way, she is not your daughter?"</p> + +<p>"My stepdaughter."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I thought so. Well, the charwoman shall come in at once. She can +cook. Later on, we shall see—we shall see."</p> + +<p>"By the way," said Lady Anne, coming back with a rustle of silks while +Mrs. Gray yet stood in bewilderment, holding the baby's frock in her +limp fingers. "By the way, Mary is very anxious about her father—how he +will take her accident. Will you tell your husband that I shall be glad +to see him when he comes home this evening?"</p> + +<p>"I will, my lady," said Mrs. Gray; "and, my lady, would you please not +to mention to Mr. Gray about the charwoman? He's that proud; it would +hurt him, I'm sure. If he isn't told he'll never know she's there. A +child isn't as easily deceived as Walter."</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly not tell him," Lady Anne said graciously. She did not +object to the honest pride in Walter Gray. He was probably a superior +man for his station, being Mary's father. As for that poor slattern, +Lady Anne had lived too long in the world to be amazed by the marriages +men made, either in her own exalted circle or in those below it.</p> + +<p>Walter Gray came, in a flutter of tender anxiety, at half-past six in +the evening, to Lady Anne's garden, where Mary was sitting in her wicker +chair under the mulberry tree. Lady Anne had given orders that he was to +be shown out to the garden when he called.</p> + +<p>"My poor little girl!" he said, with an arm about Mary's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Then he took off his hat to Lady Anne. There was respect in his manner, +but nothing over-humble, nothing to say that they were not equals in a +sense. His eyes, at once bright and dreamy, rested on her with a +friendly regard.</p> + +<p>"The man has gentle blood in him somewhere," said the old lady to +herself. She had a sense of humour which kept her knowledge of her own +importance from becoming overweening. "I believe his respect is for my +age, not for my rank. I wonder what the world is coming to!"</p> + +<p>She went away then and left the father and daughter together. Walter, +who had taken a chair by Mary's, looked with a half-conscious pleasure +round the velvet sward on which the shadows of the trees lay long. The +trees were at their full summer foliage, dark as night, mysterious, +magnificent.</p> + +<p>"What a very pleasant place!" Walter Gray said, with grave enjoyment. +"How sweet the evening smells are! How quiet everything is! Who could +believe that Wistaria Terrace was over the wall?"</p> + +<p>"I have been missing Wistaria Terrace," Mary said. "You don't know how +lonesome it feels for the children. I wonder how Mamie is getting on +without me. I want to go home. Indeed, I feel quite able to. I don't +know how I shall do without going home."</p> + +<p>"If you went home," said Walter Gray, unexpectedly practical, "your arm +would never set, Mary. You'd be forgetting and doing all manner of +things you oughtn't to do. If Lady Anne is kind enough to ask you to +visit her, stay a while and rest, dear. Indeed, you do too much for your +size."</p> + +<p>"You will all miss me so dreadfully."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I don't think we shall miss you—in that way. Oddly enough—I +suppose Matilda was on her mettle—the house seemed quieter when I came +home. The children were in bed. I smelt something good from the kitchen. +Don't imagine that we shall not be able to do without you, child."</p> + +<p>Mary, who knew no more of the capable charwoman than Walter Gray did, +looked on this speech of her father's as a mere string of tender +subterfuges. She said nothing, but her eyes rested on her grey woollen +skirt, faded by wear and the weather, and she had an unchildish sense of +the incongruity of her presence as a visitor in Lady Anne's house. +Walter Gray's glance roamed over his young daughter. He saw nothing of +her dreary attire. He saw only the spiritual face, over-pale, the +slender, young, unformed body, graceful as a half-opened flower in its +ill-fitting covering, the slender feet that had a suggestion of race, +the toil-worn hands the fingers of which tapered to fine points.</p> + +<p>"You have always done too much, child," he said, with sudden, tender +compunction.</p> + +<p>When he rose to go Mary clung to him as though their parting was to be +for years.</p> + +<p>"I will come in again to-morrow," he said. "I shall sleep better +to-night for thinking of you in this quiet, restful place. Get some +roses in your cheeks, little girl, before you come back to us."</p> + +<p>"I wish I were going back now," said Mary piteously. She looked round +the old walls with their climbing fruit trees as though they were the +walls of a prison. "It is awful not to be able to come and go. And Mamie +will never be able to do without me. The children will be ill——"</p> + +<p>He left her in tears. As he re-entered the house by its iron steps up to +a glass door Lady Anne came out from her morning-room and called him +within. He looked about him at the room, walled in with books, with +yellowed marble busts of great men on top of the book-cases. His feet +sank in soft carpets. The smell of a pot of lilies mingled with the +smell of leather bindings. The light in the room, filtered through the +leaves of an overhanging creeper, was green and gold. It seemed to him +that he must have known such a room in some other world, where he had +not had to make watches all day with a glass screwed in his eye, but had +abundant leisure for books and beautiful things. Not but that there +might be worse things than the watchmaking. Over the works of the +watches, the fine little wheels and springs, Walter Gray thought hard, +thought incessantly. He thought, perhaps, the harder that he had neither +the leisure nor opportunity for putting down his thoughts on paper or +imparting them to another like-minded with himself. How his fellows +would have stared if they could have known the things that went on +inside Walter Gray's mind as he leant above his table, peering into the +interior of the watch-cases!</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Gray," said Lady Anne graciously; "I want to talk to you +about Mary."</p> + +<p>She approached the matter delicately, having wit enough to see that +Walter Gray was no common person. While she talked she looked with frank +admiration at his face: the fine, high, delicate nose; the arched brows, +like Mary's own; the over-development of the forehead. The dust of years +and worries lay thick upon his face, yet Lady Anne said to herself that +it was a beautiful face beneath the dust.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you about Mary," she went on. "The child interests me +strongly. She is a fine vessel, this little daughter of yours. Pray +excuse me if I speak plainly. She has been doing far too much for her +age and her strength. Haven't you noticed that she is pulled down to +earth? Those babies, Mr. Gray—they are remarkably fat and heavy; they +are killing Mary."</p> + +<p>"Her mother died of consumption," Walter Gray said, his face whitening +with terror.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" the old lady thought; "she is the child of his heart. Those three +twins are merely the children of his home. That poor drudge of a mother +of theirs! Mary is the child of her father's heart and mind."</p> + +<p>Then aloud: "You had better let me have her, Mr. Gray."</p> + +<p>"Let you have her, Lady Anne? What would you do with my Mary?"</p> + +<p>He looked scarcely less aghast than he had done a moment before at the +suggestion of consumption.</p> + +<p>"Not separate her from you, Mr. Gray. This house is my home, and I am +not likely to leave it, except for a month or two at a time, at my age. +I think the child will be a companion to me. I have no romantic +suggestions to make. I am not proposing to adopt Mary. I shall pay her a +salary, and give her opportunities for education that you cannot. She +interests me, as I have said. Let me have her. When I no longer need +her—I am an old woman, Mr. Gray—she will be fit to earn her own +living. Everything I have goes back to my nephew Jarvis Lord Iniscrone. +But Mary will not suffer. Think! What have you to give her but a life of +drudgery under which she will break down—die, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>She watched the emotion in his face with her little keen, bright eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is not a fine lady's caprice?" he said. "You won't make my Mary +accustomed to better things than I could give her and then send her back +to be a drudge?"</p> + +<p>"The Lord judge between thee and me," she answered solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Then I trust you, Lady Anne Hamilton," he said.</p> + +<p>The strange thing was that the proud old lady was gratified, almost +flattered, by the confidence in Walter Gray's unworldly eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Gray," she said; then, as he took up his hat to go, she +laid a detaining hand on his shabby coat sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Why not have dinner with Mary in the garden?" she suggested. "Do, pray. +I want you to tell her what we have agreed upon. I can send word to Mrs. +Gray."</p> + +<p>Walter Gray was pleased enough to go back to his little girl whom he had +left in tears for the comfortless house and the burden of the young +stepbrothers and stepsisters. It was pleasure, half pain, to see the +uplifted face with which Mary regarded him when she saw him return. How +was he going to put the barrier between them that this plan to which he +had given his consent would surely mean? He had no illusions. Over the +wall, Lady Anne had said. But the wall that separated Wistaria Terrace +and the Mall was in reality a high and a great wall. He would never have +Mary in the old close communion again. All passes. How good the old +times were that were only a few hours away, yet seemed worlds! Never +again! They would never be all and all to each other in a solitude which +took no count of the others. Yet it was for Mary's sake. For Mary's sake +the wall was to rise between them. As he began to tell her the strange, +wonderful thing, his heart was heavy within him because a chapter of his +life was closed. He had come to the end of an epoch. Henceforth things +might be conceivably better, but—they would be different.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW ESTATE</h3> + + +<p>Mary took the news of her great promotion in an unthankful spirit.</p> + +<p>"Lady Anne is very kind," she said tearfully; "but I don't want to stay +with her. I couldn't bear to live anywhere but in Wistaria Terrace. It +is absurd that you should say you have given your consent, papa. How +could you possibly have consented when the house could not get on +without me? You know it could not. Why, even for a day things would be +all topsy-turvy without me."</p> + +<p>"And so you have not gone to school," the father answered, with an +accent of self-reproach. "You have been weighed down with +responsibilities and cares that you ought to have been free of for years +to come. You have even been stunted in your growth, as Lady Anne said. +It is time things were altered. I don't know how I was so blind. We +ought to be grateful to the accident that has opened a door to us."</p> + +<p>When he had gone, Lady Anne came and comforted Mary. There was a deal of +kindness in the old lady's heart.</p> + +<p>"You shall help them," she said. "Dear me, how much help you will be +able to give them! Imagine beginning with a salary at fifteen! You are +to leave things to me, Mary. I have sent help to your stepmother—an +excellent woman, Mrs. Devine, whom I have known for many years. She is +very capable. I will tell her that she must remain with your stepmother. +It is amazing what one really capable woman can do. And afterwards there +will be the salary."</p> + +<p>The salary, and perhaps a quick, warm feeling for Lady Anne which sprang +up suddenly in Mary's heart, settled the question. After all, as Lady +Anne said, despite her greatness she was very lonely. She had lost her +son and her grandson, and she could not endure her nephew or his family. +She had only a few old cronies. As a matter of fact, although she had +taken a fancy to Mary Gray and captured the child's susceptible heart, +she was not a particularly amiable or lovable old lady to the rest of +the world. She was too keen-sighted and sharp-tongued to be popular.</p> + +<p>Mary slept that night in such a room as she had never dreamt of. There +was a little bed in the corner of it with a flowing veil of white, +lace-trimmed muslin like a baby's cot. There was white muslin tied with +blue ribbons at the window, and the dressing-table was as gaily and +innocently adorned. There was a work-box on a little table, a +writing-desk on another; a shelf of books hung on the wall. The room had +really been made ready for a dear young cousin of Lady Anne's, who had +not lived to enjoy it. If Mary had only known, she owed something of +Lady Anne's interest to the fact that her eyes were grey, like Viola's, +her cheek transparent like Viola's.</p> + +<p>Apart from the discomfort of the broken arm, as she lay in the soft, +downy little bed, she was ill at ease, wondering how they were getting +on without her at Wistaria Terrace. Her breast had an ache for the baby +who was used to lie warm against it. Her good arm felt strange and +lonely for the familiar little body. She kept putting it out in a panic +during her sleep because she missed the baby.</p> + +<p>In the morning Simmons, Lady Anne's maid, came to help her dress. It was +very difficult, Mary found, to do things for one's self with a broken +arm. Her head ached because of the disturbed sleep and the pain of the +broken limb. Simmons had come to her in a somewhat hostile frame of +mind. She did not hold with picking up gutter-children from no one knew +where and setting people as were respectable to wait upon them. But at +heart she was a good-natured woman, and her indignation disappeared +before the unchildish pain and weariness of Mary's face.</p> + +<p>"There," she said, "I wouldn't be fretting, if I were you. Lor' bless +you, there's fine treats in store for you. Her ladyship sent only last +night for a roll of grey cashmere. I'm to fit you after your breakfast +and make it up as quick as I can. Then you'll be fit to go out with her +ladyship in the carriage and get your other things."</p> + +<p>It was the last day of the ugly linsey. Simmons got through her task +with great quickness. She was a woman of taste, else she had not been +Lady Anne's maid. Lady Anne was more particular about her garments than +most young women. And, having once made up her mind to like Mary, +Simmons took an interest in her task.</p> + +<p>"You are so kind, Mrs. Simmons," Mary said gratefully, feeling the +gentleness and dexterity with which the woman tried on her new garments +without once jarring the broken arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm kind enough to those who take me the proper way," said Simmons, +greatly pleased with Mary's prefix of Mrs., which was brevet rank, since +Simmons had never married. It would have made a great difference to +Mary's comfort at this time if she had been sufficiently ill-advised to +call Simmons without a prefix, as Lady Anne did.</p> + +<p>Dr. Carruthers had called to see Mary the morning after the accident. He +had interviewed his patient in the morning-room, and was passing out +through the hall when Lady Anne's voice over the banisters summoned him +to her presence.</p> + +<p>"You can give me a little while, Dr. Carruthers?" she said. "I shall not +be interfering with your work?"</p> + +<p>"I am quite free"—a little colour came into his cheeks. "The friend +whose work I was doing at the House of Mercy returned last night. +Yesterday was my last day."</p> + +<p>"Ah! and yesterday brought you an unexpected patient. How do you find +her?"</p> + +<p>"She has less physique than she ought to have."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has been underfed and overworked. I am going to alter all +that. I have taken her into my house as my little companion."</p> + +<p>Dr. Carruthers stared in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"You think it very odd of me? Well, I <i>am</i> odd, and I can afford to do +what pleases me. Mary Gray is going to live here. You should know her +father. A quite remarkable man, I consider him. Now, about yourself. I +have heard of you, Dr. Carruthers. I have heard that you are a very +clever young man and devoted to your work, that you have all the +knowledge of the schools at your fingertips, but very little experience, +and no practice to speak of."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Lady Anne. I was three years house surgeon at the Good +Samaritan; and I have done a great deal of work since I have been here. +I will confess that my patients have been of a poor class."</p> + +<p>"Who have not paid you a penny. I don't know whether you do it for +philanthropy or to keep your hand in——"</p> + +<p>"A little of both," the young man said with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"But it is a good thing to do," the old lady went on, without noticing +his interpellation. "You're spoken well of by the poor, if the rich have +not heard anything about you. I know you're living beyond your means in +a big house, hoping that a paying practice will come to you. My dear +man, it never will, so long as people think you are in need of it. They +like Dr. Pownall at their doors with his carriage and pair, even if he +can only give them five minutes. Pownall forgot himself with me. I +remember his father—a very decent, respectable man who used to grow +cabbages. That's nothing against Pownall—creditable to him, I should +say. Still, he hadn't time to listen to my symptoms, and he was rude. 'A +woman of your age,' he said. I should like to know who told Dr. Pownall +my age. A lady has no age. 'It's time you retired,' I said to him. 'I +don't think of it,' said he; 'not for ten years yet. My patients won't +hear of it.' 'You're greedy,' said I; 'if you weren't your patients +might go to Hong Kong.' He thought it was a joke—hadn't time to find +out whether I was serious or not. I made him, Dr. Carruthers. It's time +for him to retire now. I shall mention to all my friends that you are my +body-physician."</p> + +<p>She spoke like one of the Royal Family. But Dr. Carruthers had no +inclination to laugh. His eyes were dim as he murmured his +acknowledgments. It was fame, it was fortune, in those parts to be +approved by Lady Anne Hamilton. Hitherto she had been understood to +swear by Dr. Pownall.</p> + +<p>"It means a deal to us, Lady Anne," he said, stumbling over his words. +"We had made up our minds to give up the big house and look for a slum +practice. The children—I have two living—are not very strong, any more +than Mildred. We put all we could into the venture of taking the house. +It was our bid for fortune."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't approve of it in a general way," said Lady Anne. "Still, it +has turned out well. Will your wife be at home to-morrow afternoon? I +should like to call upon her."</p> + +<p>"She will be delighted."</p> + +<p>Dr. Carruthers was regaining his self-control. He knew that the presence +of Lady Anne's barouche at his door for an hour in the afternoon would +be more potent in opening doors to him than if he had made the most +brilliant cure on record.</p> + +<p>Mary was with Lady Anne next day when she went to call on Mrs. +Carruthers. It was characteristic of Lady Anne that she thought to tell +Jennings, the coachman, to drive up and down in front of the house and +round the sides, for Dr. Carruthers' house was a corner one with a +frontage to three sides. It was a hot summer day, and Jennings wondered +disrespectfully what bee the old lady had got in her bonnet. Such a +jangling of harness, such a flashing of polished surfaces! Every window +that commanded the three sides of Dr. Carruthers' house had an eye at +the pane. The tidings flew from one to another that Lady Anne Hamilton +was visiting Mrs. Carruthers, and was making a very long call.</p> + +<p>Mildred was still on her sofa. She would have risen when Lady Anne came +in, but the old lady prevented her. Lady Anne could be royally kind when +it pleased her.</p> + +<p>She drew a chair by the sofa and sat down. Mary, who had come in with +her, listened in some wonder to Lady Anne's sympathetic questions about +the children. That was something in which Mary was interested, in which +Mary had knowledge and experience; but though she listened she would not +have spoken a word for worlds.</p> + +<p>As she sat there on the edge of one of Mrs. Carruthers' chairs—the +drawing-room furniture was of the sparsest; a chair or small table +dotted here and there on the wilderness of polished floor—she could see +herself in a pier-glass at the other end of the room. It was a quite +unfamiliar presentment she saw. This Mary was dressed in soft dove-grey. +She had a little white muslin folded fichu about her shoulders. She had +a wide black hat, with one long white ostrich feather. Her good hand was +gloved in delicate grey kid. There was something quaint about her +aspect; for that artist, Simmons, had discovered that Mary, for all her +fifteen years, looked her best with her soft fine brown hair piled on +top of her head. When she presented Mary so to Lady Anne the old lady +was fain to acknowledge that Simmons was right. There was a quaint and +delightful stateliness about Mary which made Lady Anne say to herself +once more that the child had gentle blood in her.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," Mildred Carruthers thought, as her eyes wandered again and +again to the elegant little figure, "Kit said nothing of this. I +expected to find a rather interesting child of the humbler classes. I +remember particularly that he said she looked as though she had had a +hard time."</p> + +<p>Mary's changed aspect had one unforeseen result. When she presented +herself at Wistaria Terrace the baby did not know her. Her stepmother +shed a few tears, which were half-gratification. The elder children were +already a bit shy of her, the baby's immediate predecessor even +murmuring of her as "the yady," and surveying her from afar, finger in +mouth. But the baby could in no way be brought to recognise her, and +only shouted lustily when she tried to force herself upon his +recognition.</p> + +<p>"I shall come to-morrow in my old frock," Mary said, bitterly hurt by +this lack of perception on the baby's part. "I hate these hideous +things; so I do. To-morrow he will come to his Mary, so he will."</p> + +<p>But when the morrow came, and she sought for her old work-a-day garments +in that pretty white and blue wardrobe where she had hung them when she +had discarded them for the grey frock and hat, they were not to be +found. There were numbers of things such as Mary had never dreamed of. +Lady Anne had provided her with an outfit, simple according to her +thoughts, but splendid in Mary's eyes. A white cashmere dressing-gown, +trimmed with lace, hung on the peg where the grey linsey had been.</p> + +<p>Mary flew to Simmons to know where her old frock had gone to. The good +woman, who by this time had taken Mary under her wing to uphold her +against the rest of the household if it were inclined to resent the new +inmate, looked at her reprovingly.</p> + +<p>"You never wanted that old frock, and you her ladyship's companion? No, +Miss Mary—for so I shall call you, as by her ladyship's orders, let +some people say what they like—that frock you never will see, for gone +it has to a poor child that'll maybe find it a comfort when winter +comes. I wonder at you for thinking on it, so I do, seeing as how I've +taken so much trouble with your clothes."</p> + +<p>Mary turned away with a desolate feeling. The grey linsey might have +been like the feathers of the enchanted bird that became a woman for the +love of a mortal, the feathers which, if she wore them again, had the +power of transporting her back to her kindred and her old estate. The +old life was indeed closed to Mary with the disappearance of the grey +linsey; and it was long before she lost the feeling that if she could +only have kept her old garments she need not have been so separated from +the old life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>BOY AND GIRL</h3> + + +<p>It was during those early days that Mary made the acquaintance of Robin +Drummond. She had a comfortless feeling afterwards about the meeting; +but it was not because of Sir Robin or anything he did: he was always a +kind boy in her memory of him. It was because of his mother, Lady +Drummond. Mary knew from Lady Anne, who always thought aloud, that Lady +Drummond made a good many people feel uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>They had driven out all the way from the city to the Court, the big +house on its wide plain below the mountains. It was a long drive—quite +twenty miles there and back—and Jennings, who liked to have a good deal +of his time to himself, had been rather cross about it. Not that he +dared show any temper to Lady Anne, who was easy and kindly with her +servants, as a rule, but could reduce an insubordinate one to humble +submission as well as any old lady ever could. But Mary, who knew the +household pretty well by this time, knew that Jennings was out of temper +by the set of his shoulders, as she surveyed them from her seat in the +barouche. It was a road, too, he never liked to take, because of a +certain steam tram which ran along it and made the horses uncomfortable +when they met it face to face. And there his mistress was unsympathetic +towards him. She had been a brilliant and daring horsewoman in her youth +and middle age.</p> + +<p>"I never thought I should live to amble along like this," she confided +to Mary as they drove between golden harvest fields. "Rheumatic gout is +a great humbler of the spirit. Ah! here comes one of those black +monsters to make the pair curvet a little. They are too fat, Mary. They +have too easy a life. It is only on such an occasion as this that they +remember their hot youth."</p> + +<p>They reached the Court without mishap, although once or twice the horses +behaved as though they meditated a mild runaway.</p> + +<p>"You shall take the other road home, Jennings," Lady Anne said +graciously, as she alighted in front of the great square, imposing +house, amid its flower-beds of all shapes, its ornamental fountains +flinging high jets of golden water in the sun.</p> + +<p>"It's time we gave up the horses, my lady," Jennings said, with +bitterness, "with the likes o' them black beasts on the road."</p> + +<p>Later, as she and Mary waited in the great drawing-room for Lady +Drummond, she returned to the subject of Jennings and his grievance.</p> + +<p>"He is always bad-tempered when we come to the Court," she said. "For +all its grandeur it is not a hospitable house. Jennings will have to go +without his tea this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Mary looked with wonder down the great length of the magnificent room. +Her feet sank in the Turkey carpet. The walls, which were papered in +deep red, were lined with full-length portraits, some of them +equestrian. The place had an air of rich comfort. Was it possible that +the mistress of so much magnificence could grudge a visitor's coachman +his tea?</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship looks after the bawbees," Lady Anne went on, thinking +aloud as usual, rather than talking to Mary. "And those who are in her +employment must think of them too, or they go. Ah! you are looking at +Gerald Drummond's portrait. What do you think of it, child?"</p> + +<p>It was one of the equestrian portraits. The subject, a man in the +thirties, dressed in a lancer uniform, stood by his horse's head. His +helmet was off, lying on the ground at his feet; and it was easy to see +why the artist had chosen to paint the sitter with his head uncovered. +The upper part of the face—the forehead and eyes—was strikingly +handsome. The sweep of golden hair, despite its close military cut, was +beautiful also. For the rest, the nose was too large and not +particularly well-shaped, the chin was rugged, the mouth stern. +Lantern-jawed was the epithet one thought of when looking at the +portrait of the man whose deeds were written in his country's history.</p> + +<p>It was an epithet Mary Gray would not have thought of. Indeed, she +stared at the hero in fascinated awe, but would not have known how to +express an opinion regarding his looks. Fortunately, Lady Anne did not +wait for an answer to her question—had not, perhaps, ever intended that +it should be answered.</p> + +<p>"It is very like," she went on. "Half Greek god, half fanatic. He led +his charges with Bible words on his lips. He spent the night before a +battle in prayer and fasting. He was as stern as John Knox, and as sweet +as Francis de Sales. The only time his light deserted him was when he +married Matilda Stewart. We were all in love with him. I was, although I +ought to have had sense, being ten years his senior and a widow. He +picked the worst of the bunch. Luckily, he could get away from Matilda, +for he was always fighting somewhere, and perhaps he never found out. He +kept his simplicity to the day he died. Some people thought he married +Matilda because she was one of the Stewart heiresses, and the Drummonds +were as poor as church mice. They didn't know him. It was more likely +he'd marry her because she was plain, with a face like a horse, and was +head over ears in love with him. I will say that for Matilda. She was +desperately in love with her husband, although no one would believe now +that she had ever been in love with anybody."</p> + +<p>Lady Drummond delayed about coming to her guests. Lady Anne tapped an +impatient small foot on the floor.</p> + +<p>"She's heckling someone now—take my word for it," she said.</p> + +<p>Then her face wrinkled up, shrewdly humorous.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking, child?" she asked. "Thinking of how oddly we in +the world talk of the friends we go to visit? I don't trouble the Court +much. But I am interested in Gerald's boy. I should like to know how he +is going to turn out. Not much of her Ladyship in him, I fancy."</p> + +<p>However, there was no question of Mary's judging her benefactress; and +Lady Anne smiled as she noticed that the girl had not heard her +question, and watched the innocent, tender, worshipping look with which +she was gazing at Sir Gerald's portrait. The smile faded off into a +sigh. "<i>Ah, le beau temps passe!</i>" The expression on Mary's face +recalled to Lady Anne the one romantic passion of her life, which had +come to her after widowhood had put an end to a marriage in which esteem +and liking for an elderly husband had taken the place of love.</p> + +<p>"You must excuse me, Anne."</p> + +<p>A monotonous, important voice broke into Lady Anne's dream like a harsh +discord, shattering it to atoms.</p> + +<p>"You must excuse me. I've been interviewing my gardener. In your town +life you are spared much. Considering the size of the gardens here and +the labour I pay for, the yield is far too little. I expect the gardens +to pay for themselves, and send the fruit to market. This year there is +a great falling-off."</p> + +<p>"It has been a wet summer," said Lady Anne.</p> + +<p>"Ah! and who is this young lady?"</p> + +<p>Lady Drummond's voice told that she had no need to ask the question. She +had heard of Anne Hamilton's extraordinary freak and had suggested that +for the protection of the interests of Anne's relatives she had better +be put under proper restraint. Still, she asked the question. One would +have said from the deadly monotony of Lady Drummond's voice that she +could not get any expression into it. Yet she could on occasion; and the +chilling disapproval in it now made Mary look up in a frightened +surprise.</p> + +<p>"This young lady, Miss Gray, is my companion," Lady Anne said, with a +stiffening of herself for battle and a light in her eye which showed +that she had not mistaken Lady Drummond's challenge, and had no +objection to take it up.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Lady Drummond again lifted the lorgnette that hung at her belt and +stared at Mary through it. "The young lady is very young for the post, +and a companion is a new thing—is it not, Anne?—for you to require."</p> + +<p>"You mean that I never could get one to live with me," Lady Anne said +good-humoredly. "Well, Mary and I get on very well together—don't we, +Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Gray is very young."</p> + +<p>"If we are going to discuss her, need she stay?" Lady Anne asked. "I am +sure she is longing to see the gardens. I couldn't get round myself. The +damp has made me stiff."</p> + +<p>"Can you find your way, Miss Gray?"</p> + +<p>Lady Drummond was plainly anxious to be rid of Mary, and made an effort +at politeness which was only awkward and discouraging.</p> + +<p>"I think so," said Mary, looking round with an air of flight.</p> + +<p>Lady Drummond's disapproval chilled her. She was not accustomed to be +disapproved of, and it filled her with a vague terror as though she had +done something wrong ignorantly.</p> + +<p>She glided out of the room like a shadow. As she went, Lady Drummond's +unlowered voice followed her.</p> + +<p>"Your choice is a very odd one, Anne Hamilton. That gawky child, all +eyes and forehead. I remember I wanted you to have my excellent Miss +Bradley."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have your excellent Bradley for an hour...."</p> + +<p>But Mary had fled beyond the hearing of the voices. She had no curiosity +to hear any more of Lady Drummond's unflattering remarks concerning her.</p> + +<p>Once again she longed for Wistaria Terrace. There was no place for her +in <i>this</i> world, she said to herself; and sent a tender reproach in her +own mind to the father who had given her up for her good. Then she felt +contrite about Lady Anne. How good the old lady was to her, and how she +stood up for her, would stand up for her, even to the terrible Lady +Drummond! Still, it was not her world; it never would be. She thought, +with sudden childish tears filling her eyes, that the next time Lady +Anne went to see any of her fine friends she would pray to be left at +home.</p> + +<p>The great suite of rooms opened one into the other. Mary was in the last +of them—a library walled in books from floor to ceiling. The heavy +velvet curtains that draped the arched entrance by which she had come +had fallen behind her. The silence in the room where the feet fell so +softly could be felt. There was not a sound but the ticking of a clock +on the mantel-shelf.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she came to a standstill. She had entered the room, but how was +she to leave it? The doors were constructed of a piece with the +book-shelves. The backs of them were dummy books. Mary did not know in +the least how to discover the doors. In fact, she supposed that there +were not any. She would have to retrace the way she came—perhaps even +ask the terrible Lady Drummond how to get out.</p> + +<p>She looked up at the long windows with the eye of a bird who has strayed +in and cannot find the way out. The elusive air of flight that was hers +was more pronounced at the moment.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a sound, and, as Mary thought, the book-shelves +opened. She saw light through the opening. A tall boy came in, +whistling, and pulled up short as his eyes fell on her. He was about her +own age, or a little older.</p> + +<p>Mary never forgot in after years the kindness and friendliness of his +face as his eyes rested upon her. He came forward slowly, putting out +his hand. The colour flooded his face to the roots of his fair hair.</p> + +<p>"You came with Lady Anne Hamilton," he said. "I found the carriage +outside. I have sent it round to the stables and told the man to put up +the horses for a while. He will want some refreshment; and they need a +rest."</p> + +<p>Mary put a limp hand into the frankly extended one.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't find my way out," she said, with a sigh of relief. "I +thought there were no doors. I was going to see the gardens while Lady +Anne and Lady Drummond talked."</p> + +<p>"Let me come with you," the boy said eagerly. "I don't know how anybody +stays in the house on such a day. Do you like puppies? I have a +beautiful litter of Clumber spaniels. And I should like you to see my +pony. I have just been out on him. It's a bit slow here, all alone, +after so many fellows at school. I'm at Eton, you know. I am going back +next Thursday. Shan't be altogether sorry, either, though I'll miss some +things."</p> + +<p>They went out together into the golden autumn afternoon. First they went +round the gardens, where the boy picked some roses and made them into a +little bunch for Mary. He took a peach from a red wall and gave it to +her. They sat down together on a seat to eat their fruit. Gardeners and +gardeners' assistants passing by touched their hats respectfully. It +was, "Yes, Sir Robin," and "No, Sir Robin." The young master had a good +many questions to ask of the gardeners. He was evidently well liked, to +judge by the smiles with which they greeted him.</p> + +<p>"They're no end of good fellows," he confided to Mary. "The mater's +rather down on them; thinks they don't do enough. It's a mistake, a +woman trying to run a place like this. She can't understand as a man +does. Now, if you've finished your peach, Miss Gray, we'll go round to +the stable yard and see the puppies. After that I'll show you the pony. +His name's Ajax, and he's rather rippin'. Do you like Kerry cows? The +mater has a herd of them—jolly little beasts, but a bit wicked, some of +them. You needn't be afraid of them. They wouldn't touch you while I'm +there."</p> + +<p>Mary inspected the Clumber puppies, and was promised the pick of the +litter if Lady Anne would allow her to accept it.</p> + +<p>"She won't refuse," said the boy, confidently. "She thinks no end of +me."</p> + +<p>"Unless the puppy might worry Fifine."</p> + +<p>"The puppy wouldn't take any notice of that thing—the old dog, I mean. +Besides, she lives in her basket, doesn't she? You might keep the puppy +in the stables and take him for walks whenever you can. He'll have a +beautiful coat like his mother, and if he's half as clever as she +is...!"</p> + +<p>"He's a lovely thing," said Mary, hugging the puppy, who was licking her +face energetically and patting her with tremendous paws.</p> + +<p>They visited the paddock next; and Sir Robin, springing on Ajax's back, +trotted him up and down for Mary's inspection. He had a good seat in the +saddle, and he looked his best on horseback. To be sure, Mary had not +discovered that Sir Robin was plain, his mother's plainness militating +in him against what share of beauty he might have inherited from his +father. There was something so exhilarating to Mary in the afternoon's +experience, after its beginning so badly, that she forgot what had gone +before. She thought Sir Robin a kind and delightful boy. They saw the +Kerries, and afterwards there were the rabbits, and the ferrets, and the +guinea-pigs to be visited. Intimacy advanced by leaps and bounds. Before +the inspection had concluded she was "Mary" to her new-found friend, +although she was too reticent by nature to think of addressing him so +familiarly.</p> + +<p>They had forgotten the time till half-past five struck from a clock in +the stable-yard. At this time they were down by a pond in the shrubbery, +where there was an islet with a water-hen's nest and a couple of swans +sailing on the water. There was a boat, too, and Sir Robin was just +getting it out preparatory to rowing Mary round the pond.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said, with a little start. "What time is that?"</p> + +<p>"Half-past five. I'd no idea it was so late."</p> + +<p>"Nor I. I must go back at once. Lady Anne said we should be returning +about five. I hope she will not be very angry with me."</p> + +<p>Mary had begun to tremble. She always trembled in moments of agitation, +as a slender young poplar might shiver in the wind.</p> + +<p>The boy jumped out of the boat hastily.</p> + +<p>"There, don't be frightened," he said. He had caught a glimpse of Mary's +face. "Lady Anne won't mind. She's a good sort. You should see the +hampers she sends me. The mater doesn't approve of school hampers. You +must put the blame on me. It was my fault entirely, for I had a watch."</p> + +<p>They hurried along the path leading back to the open space in front of +the house. When they emerged into the open a breathless maid came +towards them.</p> + +<p>"I've been looking everywhere for you and the young lady, Sir Robin," +she said. "Lady Anne Hamilton is waiting for Miss Gray."</p> + +<p>Poor Mary! When they arrived in the drawing-room it was not with Lady +Anne she had to count. Lady Anne sat with an air of humorous patience on +her face, but Lady Drummond's brow was thunderous. The haughty +indignation in her pale eyes terrified the very soul in Mary. She shrank +away from it in terror.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea you were with Miss Gray, Robin," she heard the lady say +in glacial accents.</p> + +<p>"I discovered Miss Gray trying to find her way out of the library. No +one could find those doors without knowing something about them. And we +went to see the puppies and the pony and the other beasts."</p> + +<p>"We'd better be going, Mary," Lady Anne said, standing up. "You and +Robin have made my visit quite a visitation."</p> + +<p>"The horses had to rest and the coachman to have his tea," said Sir +Robin, sturdily.</p> + +<p>"You take too much care of your horses, Anne," Lady Drummond said. "They +are too fat; they can't be healthy. And your coachman is very fat, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they take it easy, they take it easy," Lady Anne said, laughing; +"they've only my temper to worry them."</p> + +<p>They left Lady Drummond looking as black as thunder in the drawing-room. +Sir Robin escorted them to their carriage.</p> + +<p>"So sorry, Lady Anne," he said, apologetically. "It was my fault. I hope +you won't be angry with Miss Gray."</p> + +<p>"It is your mother's annoyance has to be considered, my dear boy," +answered Lady Anne, while he tucked the rug about her.</p> + +<p>"All the same, Miss Gray and I had a rippin' time," he said, flinging +back his head with an air of humorous defiance. "And—I say—you're too +good to me, you know, you really are." Lady Anne had pressed something +into his palm. "The mater doesn't see what boys want with so much +pocket-money. Sometimes I don't know what I'd do only for you. There are +so many things a fellow has to subscribe to."</p> + +<p>The carriage rolled off, leaving him bare-headed on the drive in front +of the house.</p> + +<p>"That's a good boy," said Lady Anne, emphatically. "He has his father's +heart. He's getting the ways of the master about him, too. I can tell by +Jennings' back that he's had a good tea. He'll be a good son, but the +time will come when he'll choose for himself. Well, Mary, I hope you've +enjoyed yourself. Matilda won't want to see me for a month of Sundays +again. Nor I her, for the matter of that. Dear me, she can make herself +unpleasant."</p> + +<p>Mary sat in a conscience-stricken silence during that homeward drive. +Yet Lady Anne was not angry with her—that was very obvious. She seemed +to be enjoying herself, too, judging by the smile that played about her +lips. Now and again she cast a humorous glance on Mary. Once she +chuckled aloud.</p> + +<p>"Never mind me, my dear," she said, in answer to Mary's glance. "I was +only thinking of something Denis Drummond, Gerald Drummond's elder +brother, said of her Ladyship. Ah, poor Denis! He'd face a charge of the +guns more readily than he would her Ladyship. Odd, isn't it, Mary, how +those thoroughly disagreeable women can make themselves feared?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>"OLD BLOOD AND THUNDER"</h3> + + +<p>Sir Denis Drummond had been his brother Gerald's senior by some seven or +eight years. He, too, was a soldier, and had inherited the baronetcy +from his father, upon whom the title had been bestowed by a grateful +country for services in the field. A second baronetcy in the family had +been specially created for Sir Gerald. It would not have been easy to +say which was the finer soldier of the two brothers; for while Sir +Gerald had made his name famous by the most dare-devil and brilliant +feats, Sir Denis was rather the old type of soldier—cool as well as +daring, always reliable and steady. Worshipped by his men, his name was +one to be held in constant regard by the British public, which calls its +heroes by their Christian names abbreviated, if they do not happen, +indeed, to have a nickname for them.</p> + +<p>"Old Blood and Thunder" was the name by which Sir Denis was known to his +men, and that from a certain violence of speech of which he had never +been able, or perhaps had never desired, to divest himself. This +violence had somewhat annoyed his brother Gerald, who could get as much +exhortation out of a verse of Scripture as ever he needed. Sir Denis, +like many old soldiers, was quite a devout man in his way; but he had +none of the zealot passion of his younger brother. The hidden fires +which had given Sir Gerald a certain haggardness of aspect, as though a +sculptor had hewed him roughly in marble, had never burned in Sir +Denis's breast. He was a red-faced, white-moustached veteran, as +blustering as the west wind, but with a heart as soft as wax in the +hands of his daughter Nelly, and, indeed, in the hands of anyone else +who knew the way to it.</p> + +<p>His servants adored him, as did the dogs and all animals and children. +He was beautiful in his manner to women of high and low degree, with +perhaps one exception. He was as simple as a child, and loved the +popular applause which fell to him whenever he made any kind of public +appearance, for he had been so long a Londoner that now the London crowd +knew him and had a sense of possession in him. His rosy face would beam +all over when the crowd shouted itself hoarse for "Old Blood and +Thunder." He did not at all object to the name, which had filtered from +regimental into common use. The crowd was always "Boys!" to him. He had +a most amiable feeling towards it, were it ever so frowsy and undersized +and sallow. But he loved a soldier-man, and could hardly bear to pass +one in the street without stopping to speak to him.</p> + +<p>One delightful thing about Sir Denis was the esteem in which he held his +own calling of arms. It might be questioned whether he held the Church +even in higher honour. He was no subscriber to the belief that the army +must necessarily be a refuge of rapscallions. "Straighten your +shoulders, sir; hold your head high; for, remember that you are now a +soldier!" he would say to the newest recruit who had just scraped +through with a margin of chest. His thunderous wrath and sorrow when one +of his "boys" was guilty of conduct unbecoming a soldier were something +which, in time, impressed even the least impressionable. His old +regiment, which he delighted to talk about, he had left a model +regiment.</p> + +<p>"There's a deal of good in the soldier-man," he would say to his +daughter Nelly. "The poor fellows, they're good boys, they're very good +boys."</p> + +<p>Sir Denis had married, as he was approaching middle age, a very +beautiful young girl, who had fallen in love at first with the soldier, +and afterwards with the man.</p> + +<p>His Nell had left him in his daughter Nelly a replica of herself. During +the years of service that remained to him the child was always as near +to him as might be. Fortunately, by this time the period of his foreign +service was all but at an end. Wherever he had his command the child and +her nurse were always within riding distance. He did not believe in +barracks and towns for the rearing of anything so fresh and tender. His +Nelly must have the fields and the woods and the waters. In later years +her milkmaid freshness owed, perhaps, something to this upbringing.</p> + +<p>Later, she went to school. Sir Gerald's widow, to whom Sir Denis always +referred as the Dowager, who had taken an unasked-for interest in the +motherless child from her birth, had found the ideal school for Nelly—a +school where the daughters of the aristocracy were kept in a conventual +seclusion while they learnt as little as might be of the simpler +virtues, but a deal of the way to step in and out of a carriage, to +comport themselves with dignity, to bear themselves in the presence of +their sovereign, and so on.</p> + +<p>Sir Denis, who had not been consulted, made a pretence of interviewing +the Misses de Crespigny, by whom this aristocratic preserve was +safeguarded.</p> + +<p>He had listened to Miss Selina de Crespigny's eloquent exposition of the +system adopted at De Crespigny House. Then he had torn it all to pieces +as one might the delicate fabric of a spider's web, constructed at +infinite cost.</p> + +<p>"And, tell me now, do you teach them to be good daughters and wives and +mothers?" he asked, with his air of convincing simplicity. "Do you teach +them their duties to their husbands and children, ma'am, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>Miss de Crespigny positively gasped. There was an indelicacy about the +General's speech, to her manner of thinking.</p> + +<p>"We expect our young ladies' mothers to teach them all that," she said, +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"And they don't. In nine cases out of ten they don't. They've too much +to do otherwise. Whether it is philanthropy or politics, or just amusing +themselves, they've all got too much to do," Sir Denis said, with a +simple air that made it doubtful if this criticism of Society's ways was +adverse or not.</p> + +<p>Nelly did not go to De Crespigny House. She went, instead, to a much +less pretentious school, kept by a family of four sisters, for whom the +dry bones of teaching had been clothed with life. The house was perched +on a high, windy cliff. The sisters, Miss Stella and Miss Clara, Miss +Lucy and Miss Marianne, did their own teaching, and did it in a +perfectly unconventional way to the twenty or so girls who made up their +school.</p> + +<p>When Nelly came home to her father at seventeen years of age, it would +not have been easy to find a fresher, franker specimen of young +girlhood. In fact, to her father's eyes she was somewhat alarmingly +bright and fair.</p> + +<p>"The young fellows will be about her thick as bees," he said to himself +in a frightened way. "I won't have any nonsense about Nelly. I want my +girl to myself for a little while. Afterwards there is that arrangement +of the Dowager's about Nelly and Robin. I don't care for the marriage of +first cousins. And I'm not sure that I care for Robin; still, he is poor +Gerald's son. There can be nothing against poor Gerald's son."</p> + +<p>He was so afraid of possible lovers for Nelly that he actually suggested +to her that she should go to a smart finishing school for the couple of +years that separated him from the sixty-five limit.</p> + +<p>"After that," he said, faintheartedly, for there was a sparkle in +Nelly's eye which discouraged him, "we shall settle down in London, and +you shall see all you want to see. There are quiet nooks and corners to +be had, even in London. I think I know the one I shall choose. Be a good +girl, Nelly, and go to Madame Celeste's. A garrison town is no place for +you. Unless, indeed, you would like to go to the Dowager, as she +wishes."</p> + +<p>"I shan't go to the Dowager, and I shan't go to Madame Celeste's," said +Nelly, dimpling and sparkling. "I shall stay with my old Dad and take +care of him."</p> + +<p>"What, Nell? 'Shan't'! You forget you're talking to your commanding +officer. Rank insubordination—that is what I call it!"</p> + +<p>"Call it what you like," Miss Nelly replied. "I'm going to stay. A +finishing school at seventeen! I never heard the like!"</p> + +<p>With that she put her arms round the General's neck, and that was the +final argument. Secretly, indeed, he was not altogether sorry to be +worsted. He had done his best to ward off the things that might happen. +Now he was going to trust in Providence and keep his little girl with +him. To be sure, he had known that she would never go to the Dowager's. +Nelly had never considered that possibility. After all, it was a relief +that they were not going to be parted.</p> + +<p>During the two years Nelly, indeed, had many admirers and lovers, but +she was not attracted by any of them. She was kind and friendly and +engaging; but she was unconscious with her lovers, or so it seemed to +the jealous, fatherly eyes, to the verge of coldness.</p> + +<p>He often said to himself that he could not understand Nell. None of the +gay, handsome, gallant soldier lads seemed to have the least attraction +in that way for her. To be sure, she was a child, and there was plenty +of time. Why shouldn't her old father keep her for the years to come? +Unless—unless, that fellow Robin had been beforehand with the +others—Robin, who had refused point-blank to be a soldier, and had +even, to the General's bitter offence, actually spoken at the Oxford +Union "On the Waste and Wickedness of a Standing Army." The General had +nearly had a fit over that. Good Heavens! Gerald's son, Sir Massey +Drummond's grandson, to be found on the side of the Philistines like +that! What chill was in the boy's blood? What crook in his character? +What bee in his bonnet?</p> + +<p>The General had sworn then that Robin never should have his Nelly. But +the Dowager had been sapping and mining and laying plans to bring about +the marriage almost from Nelly's infancy, when she had come in and +altered the constituents of Nelly's baby bottles, and had infuriated +Nelly's wholesome country nurse to the point of departure. The General +had come just in time then to find Mrs. Loveday fastening the +cherry-coloured strings of her bonnet with fingers that trembled, and +had been put to the very edge of his simple diplomacy to undo the +Dowager's work. He knew his own helplessness where women were concerned. +Nelly might see something in Robin, confound him, that the General could +not.</p> + +<p>At this point he would remember that, after all, Robin was poor Gerald's +son, if an unworthy one, and be contrite. But then the grievance would +revive of a far-back Quaker ancestor of Lady Drummond, whom the General +blamed for the peace-loving instincts of poor Gerald's boy; and once +again he would be furious.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Nelly's frank, innocent eyes, blue as gentians, had no +consciousness of a lover. Her old father seemed to be enough for her. At +one moment they gave him the fullest assurance; the next he was in heats +and colds of apprehension about the lover, be it Robin or another, who +would take his little girl from him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE BLUE RIBBON</h3> + + +<p>The half-dozen years or so following Sir Denis's retirement were years +of peace, in which he forgot for long periods, broken only by the +Dowager's visits to London, his fear of losing his Nelly.</p> + +<p>He had taken a house in Sherwood Square, where there is a space and +breeziness that the fashionable districts could not possibly allow.</p> + +<p>The square sits on top of one of the highest hills in London, and +entrenches itself as a fortress against the poverty and squalor that are +creeping up the hill towards it. Around the square there are still +gardens and crescents and roads of consideration, but ever dwindling in +social status as one goes down the hill, till the consideration vanishes +in the degradation of cheap boarding-houses and the homes of Jews of the +shopkeeping classes.</p> + +<p>Sir Denis had discovered Sherwood Square for himself, and was uncommonly +proud of it. He liked to point out to his friends that he rented a +palatial mansion for what a <i>pied-à-terre</i> in Mayfair would have cost +him. The houses had been built by wealthy merchants and professional +people in the eighteenth century. They had splendours of double doors +and marble pavements, of frescoed walls and ceilings, and carved +mantelpieces. They were entered from a quiet street which showed hardly +a sign of life. There were lions couchant guarding the entrances. The +walls on that side showed mostly blank, uninteresting windows. With an +odd pride the great houses showed only their duller aspects to the +world.</p> + +<p>All the living-rooms except one looked on the other side; and what a +difference! There was a great stretch of emerald-green turf such as one +would never look to see in London; to be sure, gardeners had been +watering and mowing and rolling it for over a century. In the turf were +many flower-beds, and here and there were forest trees which had been +there when the district was fields. Country birds came and built there +year after year. You might hear the thrush begin about January. And in +the spring it was a wilderness of sweet hyacinths and daffodils, lilac +and may. The rooms were spacious and splendid within the big +cream-coloured house; and the General used to say that in the early +morning, when the smoke had cleared away, it was possible from the upper +windows to see as far as the Surrey hills. However, that was something +which nobody but himself had tested.</p> + +<p>In the house love and friendliness and good-will reigned supreme. The +General had insisted on engaging his own servants, much to the disgust +of the Dowager, who had several <i>protégés</i> of her own practically +engaged. When the General had outwitted Lady Drummond on this occasion +by a flank movement, he was very gleeful in his confidential moments +alone with Nelly.</p> + +<p>"She wanted to put in her spies and satellites, did she, Nelly, my girl? +Pretty stories of us they'd have carried to her Ladyship. The only +womanly thing your aunt has, my girl, is an invincible curiosity. She'd +like to know what we had for lunch and dinner, who came to see us, and +what clothes we wore. I'm glad you wouldn't have that mantua-maker of +hers. Cannot my girl have her frocks made where she likes? I'll tell you +what, Nelly: your aunt is a presumptuous, meddling, overbearing, +impertinent woman—that she is."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell her to leave us alone, papa?"</p> + +<p>But the General, whose courage had never been doubted during all the +years of his strenuous life, had very little bravery when it came to a +question of telling hard truths to a woman, and that woman the Dowager.</p> + +<p>"We must remember, after all, Nelly," he would say then, "that she is +your Uncle Gerald's widow. Poor Gerald! what a dear fellow he was! No +matter what we say between ourselves, we can't quarrel with Gerald's +widow."</p> + +<p>And Sir Denis, who was becoming garrulous in old age, would slip off +into some reminiscence of the younger brother to whom he had been +tenderly attached, and for whom he had also a certain hero-worship +because he had been so fine and heroic a soldier.</p> + +<p>Certainly it said well for the servants whom Sir Denis and Nelly had +chosen for themselves that they fell in so completely with the kindness +and honesty and good-will of the house. Some credit was doubtless due +also to Sir Denis's soldier servant, whom he had installed as butler; +for Pat's loyalty and devotion to "Old Blood and Thunder" must have +influenced the class of persons who are so susceptible of impressions +from those of their own station, while the standards and exhortations of +their social superiors are as though they were not. Pat was lynx-eyed +for a malingerer in his Honour's service; and, indeed, where the rule +was so easy and pleasant there was no excuse for malingering. Pat, too, +was ably seconded by Bridget, the cook, who had come in originally as +kitchen-maid, and had in time taken the place of the very important and +pretentious functionary with whom they had started, and whose cookery +did not at all suit Sir Denis's digestion, impaired somewhat by long +years in India. The young kitchen-maid had taken the cook's place during +the latter's holiday, and had sent up for Sir Denis's dinner a little +clear soup, a bit of turbot with a sauce which was in itself genius, a +bird roasted to the nicest golden brown, and a pudding which was only +ground rice, but had an insubstantial delicacy about it quite unlike +what one associates with the homely cereal.</p> + +<p>"You've saved my life, my girl," said Sir Denis, meeting Bridget on the +stairs the morning after this banquet, and presenting her with a golden +sovereign, "and if you like to stay on as cook at forty pounds a year, +why so you shall."</p> + +<p>"You could shave yourself in her sauce-pans, your Honour," said Pat, +when he heard of this amazing promotion. It was Pat's way of saying that +Bridget polished her utensils till they reflected like a mirror. "She's +a rale good little girsha, that's what she is, the same Bridget; and I'm +rale glad, your Honour, that ould consiquince isn't comin' back again."</p> + +<p>After that there were few changes. The servants were in clover, and +since Pat and Bridget knew it, and impressed it on their subordinates, +it came to be a generally recognised fact. To be sure, it made it +pleasanter for everyone in the house when, thanks to Bridget's excellent +plain cooking. Sir Denis forgot he had such a thing as a liver, and had +no more of the gouty attacks which made his temper east-windy instead of +west-windy. During those peaceful years he forgot to be choleric. He was +overflowing with kindness and helpfulness to those about him, and took a +paternal interest in the affairs of his household.</p> + +<p>"Sure," Pat would say to Bridget, "'tis for marrying us he'd be, if he +knew how it was with us, same as he married off Rose to the postman and +gave them a cottage; and that new girl isn't up to Rose's work yet, nor +ever will be, unless I'm mistaken."</p> + +<p>"'Twould be a sin to take advantage of him," Bridget would answer. "And +we're both young enough to wait a bit, Pat. There'll be new ways when +Miss Nelly marries Sir Robin. Maybe 'tis going to live with them he'd +be."</p> + +<p>"He never will, so long as her Ladyship's alive," said Pat, +emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Then maybe we'd be havin' him for a furnished lodger," said Bridget. +"I'd rather it 'ud be something in the country. Why wouldn't you be his +coachman as well, Pat? Sure, anything you don't know about horses isn't +worth the knowin'."</p> + +<p>"True for you. We might have a little lodge," said Pat.</p> + +<p>They were really the quietest and most peaceful years—unless the +Dowager happened to be in town. Then something went dreadfully wrong +with the General's temper, and he would come roaring downstairs and +along the corridors like a winter storm. The servants' hall used to take +a tender interest in those bad days.</p> + +<p>"Somebody ought to spake to her," said Bridget. "Supposin' the gout was +to go to his heart! He was bad enough after the last time she was here."</p> + +<p>"She'll never lave hoult of him," said Pat, solemnly. "The sort of her +Ladyship houlds on the tighter the more you wriggle. He's preparing a +quare bed of repentance for himself, so he is, the langwidge he's usin' +about her all over the house. By-and-by he'll be rememberin' she's Sir +Gerald's widdy, and'll be askin' me ashamed-like, 'I hope I didn't say +too much about her Ladyship in my timper, Pat. She's a tryin' woman, a +very tryin' woman. I'm afraid I'm apt to forget now an' agin that she's +my dear brother's widdy, so I am.'"</p> + +<p>Pat's imitation of Sir Denis was really admirable.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a pity he doesn't run her out of the house," said Bridget, +"instead of lettin' her bother the heart out of him like that."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't say a rough word to a woman, not if it was to save his +life," said Pat. "Nothin' rougher thin 'No, ma'am,' and 'Yes, ma'am,' I +ever heard him say to her. Whirroo, Bridget, you should ha' heard him +whin his timper was up givin' it to us long ago in the barrack square. I +hope it isn't the suppressed gout she'll be giving him the next time! +'Tisn't half as bad whin it's out."</p> + +<p>However, the storms were few and far between. The household lived by +rule. Every morning, winter and summer, the horses were at the door by +eight o'clock for the morning canter of the General and Miss Nelly in +the park. At nine o'clock the household assembled for prayers. After +breakfast Sir Denis walked to his club in Pall Mall, wet or dry. He +would read the papers and discuss the cheeseparing policy of the +Government with some of his old chums, lunch at the club, play a game of +dominoes or draughts, and return home in time for dinner. Frequently +they entertained a friend or two quietly at dinner. But, company or no +company, there were prayers at ten o'clock, after which the General took +his candle and went to his bedroom.</p> + +<p>There were times, of course, when Nelly went out to balls and +entertainments, and then Sir Denis was to be seen on duty, even though +there were a good many ladies who would be willing to take the +chaperonage of his daughter off his hands. But that was an office he +would relinquish to no one. He was the most patient of chaperons, too, +and never grumbled if the daylight found him still at the whist-table, +although he would rise at the same hour as usual and carry out his +appointed round for the day as if he had not lost his sleep over-night. +Of course, Nelly might stay a-bed. He wouldn't have Nelly's roses +spoilt, and the young needed their proper amount of sleep. As for +himself, he couldn't sleep a wink after seven, no matter how late he had +been up the night before.</p> + +<p>But, on the whole, they lived a quiet life. Nelly was too unselfish, too +fond of her father, to cost him many nights without his usual sleep. She +had really the quietest tastes. Her few friends, her books, her music, +her dogs and birds, sufficed for her happiness. They had a houseful of +dogs, by the way, and any description of the way of life in Sherwood +Square which made no mention of dogs would be quite insufficient. Duke +the Irish terrier and Bonaparte the pug, usually Boney, and Nelson the +bull terrier, were as important and characteristic members of the +household as anyone else, except, perhaps, Sir Denis and Miss Nelly. +Nelly used to explain her stay-at-home ways to her friends by saying +that the dogs were offended with her if she went out for a walk without +them. The dogs had many tricks. They knew the terms of drill as well as +any soldier, and were always ready for parade, or to die for their +country, or groan for their country's enemies, at the General's word of +command. Nelly had to be much out-of-doors, as the dogs were clamorous +for walks, and she kept her roses in London with the old milkmaid +sweetness.</p> + +<p>There was one happening of the quiet day that stood out for Sir Denis, +and, although he did not know it, for his daughter also.</p> + +<p>Sir Denis's old regiment happened to be stationed at a barracks in the +immediate neighbourhood. To reach their parade-ground it was possible +for the troops, by making a little detour, to pass along the quiet +street on which the houses in Sherwood Square opened. It became an +established thing that they should pass every morning about nine +o'clock. How that came Sir Denis did not trouble to ask. He was quite +satisfied and delighted that "the boys" should do him honour.</p> + +<p>The breakfast-room was one of the few rooms that did not overlook the +square but the street. Every morning, just as Sir Denis concluded +prayers, there would come the steady trot of cavalry and the jingle of +accoutrements. If he had not quite finished, he would say "Amen" in a +reverent hurry. "Come now, boys and girls," he would say to the +servants, "I want you to see my old regiment."</p> + +<p>He would step out on the balcony above the hall-door with a beaming +face, and his arm around his Nelly's waist. The servants would press +behind him, the dogs push to the front with the curiosity of their kind. +Down the street the soldiers would come, all flashing in scarlet and +gold, the sleek horses shining in the morning sun with a deeper lustre +than their polished accoutrements. There would be a halt for a second in +front of the house. The men would salute their old General, the General +salute his old regiment. Then the cavalcade would sweep on its way and +the street be duller than before.</p> + +<p>One morning—it was a bright, breezy morning of March—the wind had +caught Nelly's golden hair and blown it in a halo about her face. She +was wearing a blue ribbon in it. She was fond of blue, and the +simplicity of it became her fresh youth. Just as the soldiers halted the +wind caught Nelly's blue bow, and, having played with it a little, sent +it drifting down like a little blue flower among the men on horseback.</p> + +<p>It was such a slight thing that the General might not have noticed it. +Anyhow, he made no comment, but watched the troops out of sight as +usual. The odd thing was that Nelly passed over her loss in silence, +although she must have missed her blue ribbon, since without it her hair +had become loose in the wind.</p> + +<p>At breakfast, when the servants had left the room, the General made a +remark.</p> + +<p>"That young Langrishe sits his horse well," he said. "He's a good +soldier, Nelly, my girl. A very good soldier, or I'm much mistaken."</p> + +<p>But Nelly was apparently too absorbed in her duty of making the tea to +answer the remark. For an instant she was redder than a rose. No one +would have suspected Sir Denis of slyness, but the look he shot at the +girl was certainly sly. Under the white tablecloth he rubbed his hands +softly together.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A CHANCE MEETING</h3> + + +<p>It was worse for the General when Sir Robin Drummond left Oxford and +settled in London, with an avowed intention of reading for the Bar, and +at the same time making politics his real career.</p> + +<p>"A man ought to do something in the world," he said to his irate uncle. +"The Bar is always a stepping-stone. I confess I don't look to practice +very much; my real bent is for politics. But the law interests me, and +it is always a stepping-stone."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought that the profession of arms, which your father +and your grandfather adorned, as well as a good many of your forbears, +might serve you as well," Sir Denis said, hotly.</p> + +<p>"You leave out my uncle, sir," the young man replied, with urbane good +humour. "Yes, the Drummonds have done very well for the profession of +arms. Still, with my beliefs on the subject of war——"</p> + +<p>"Pray don't air them, don't air them. You know what I think about them. +Your father's son ought to be ashamed of professing such sentiments."</p> + +<p>"One must abide by one's sentiments, one's convictions, if one is to be +good for anything. Uncle Denis," Sir Robin said, patiently.</p> + +<p>"You'll have no chance in politics. No constituency will return you. +What we want now is a strong Government that will strengthen us, through +our Army and Navy, sir, against our enemies. Such a Government will come +in at the next election a-top of the wave. The people, or I am much +mistaken, are not going to see the bulwarks of our power tampered with. +The country is all for war. Where do you come in?"</p> + +<p>Sir Robin smiled ever so slightly. It was that smile of his, with its +faintest hint of intellectual superiority, that riled the General to +bursting point.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there is a war feeling, Uncle Denis," he said. "The +country has had enough of war. However, I should not come in on top of a +wave of war feeling in any case. You would be quite right in asking +where I should come in. To be sure, I look to come in on top of the +anti-war wave. My side is pledged against war. The working man——"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you're going to appeal to <i>him</i>!" Sir Denis +shouted. "You don't mean to say that you're going to side with the +Radicals! I've lived to see many strange things, but—Gerald's son a +Radical!"</p> + +<p>He brought out the ejaculations with the sound of guns popping. His face +was red with indignation, his eyes leaping at his degenerate nephew. The +next words did not tend to calm him.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Uncle Denis, I believe that if my father had been a +politician he would have been a Radical? His profound feeling for +Christianity, his adherence to the creed of its Founder, Whose whole +life was a glorification of toil——"</p> + +<p>"Spare me, spare me!" cried the General, restraining himself with +difficulty. "So a man can't be a Christian and a gentleman! And you +think your father would have been a Radical! I can tell you, young +gentleman——"</p> + +<p>At this moment Nelly came into the room, charming in her short-waisted +frock of white satin, with a little cap of pearls on her hair. Both men +turned and stared at her, pleasure and affection in their eyes.</p> + +<p>"So you've been heckling poor Robin as usual," she said, stroking her +father's cheek. "Heckling poor Robin and getting your hair on end like a +fretful porcupine. I'll never be able to make you into a nice, sweet, +quiet old gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Turn your attention to him," said the General, indicating his nephew by +an unfriendly nod. "What do you think, Nell? He's a Radical. He's going +to contest a seat for the Radicals. What do you say now?"</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" said Nelly, with her pretty chin in the air. "Pooh! Why +shouldn't he? Lots of nice people are Radicals. If he feels that way, of +course he ought to do it."</p> + +<p>Robin's unpractical eyes thanked her mutely. He was as plain-looking a +man as he had been a boy, more hatchet-faced than ever. He was long and +lean and angular, and his positions were ungraceful. But his eyes were +the eyes of Don Quixote. The eyes had appealed to Nelly as long as she +could remember.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you're against me, Nell!" said Sir Denis, lamely. "Ah! there's +the bell! And a good thing, too. I couldn't eat my lunch to-day for old +Grogan of the Artillery. He's a man with a grievance. It soured my wine +and spoilt my food. Well, well, Robin, if you're under Nelly's +protection you may do what you like—join the Peace Society, if you +like."</p> + +<p>"I mean to, sir," Sir Robin said, placidly. "In fact, I'm speaking on +'The Ideal of a Universal Peace' on Monday evening at the Finsbury +Democratic Debating Club."</p> + +<p>When Sir Robin came to town there had been an apprehension in his +uncle's breast, too well-founded, that the Dowager would follow him. She +was devoted to her son, and not at all disposed to take the General's +views about his recreancy in politics.</p> + +<p>"A good many good people are on the Radical side, after all," she said, +"and there is, perhaps, more room, too, for a young man of Robin's +ambitions in the Radical party."</p> + +<p>"So far as I can see," said the General, acidly, "his ambitions are +rather to succeed at the bottom than at the top. The applause of the +multitude appeals to him more than the praise of his equals or +superiors."</p> + +<p>Lady Drummond glanced coldly at his heated face.</p> + +<p>"I fancy you've an attack of gout coming on, Denis," she said. "I should +send for Sir Harley Dix, if I were you."</p> + +<p>She had stopped the General just as he was on his own doorstep, setting +his face cheerfully eastwards on his way to Pall Mall. He had come back +with her. He knew his duty to his brother's widow better than to do +anything else. It was Wednesday, and on Wednesday there was always a +particular curry at lunch which he much affected. He was a connoisseur +in curries, and the <i>chef</i> always made this with an eye to Sir Denis's +approval. He would have to shorten his walk and 'bus part of the way, or +the curry would be cold. He hated to be put out in his daily routine.</p> + +<p>"I never was freer from gout in my life, Matilda," he said, with +indignation. "I don't trouble the doctors much. When I want their advice +I shall ask for it. I always ask for advice when I want it."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with unconcern.</p> + +<p>"Do you think Nelly will soon be back?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. When she takes the dogs for a walk she is often out for a +couple of hours. Perhaps it would be too long a time to wait."</p> + +<p>In his mind he could see the curry disappearing before the other men who +liked it as much as he did. Grogan would always eat curry—that special +curry—to the General's indignation. Why, curry was the last thing +Grogan ought to eat! Wasn't he as yellow as the curry itself with +chronic liver? Grogan was greedy over that curry—a greedy fellow, the +General said to himself, remembering the many occasions when it had been +impossible for him to break away from Grogan and his grievances. If her +Ladyship was going to sit on endlessly! The General's manners were too +good to leave her to sit by herself. And she was untying her bonnet +strings! He might as well lunch at home. No, he wouldn't do that, not if +her Ladyship was going to stay to lunch. He supposed he could have lunch +somewhere, if not at his club.</p> + +<p>"Pray, don't put yourself out for me, Denis," her Ladyship was saying, +with what passed for graciousness in her. "I know your usual habits. At +your age a man doesn't like to be put out of his habits. Don't mind me, +pray. I can amuse myself very well till Nelly comes in. Plenty of books +and papers, I see. You subscribe to Mudie's. I thought no one subscribed +to Mudie's now that we have so many Free Libraries. I have never been +able to afford myself a library subscription, even although we lived in +the country. Now that I am going to settle in town——"</p> + +<p>"Settle in town!" The General's eyes were almost starting from his head. +"I'd no idea, Matilda, you were going to settle in town. What's going to +become of the Court?"</p> + +<p>"I have an idea of letting it for a few years. Mr. Higbid, the very rich +hide merchant, has taken a fancy to the place. I have yet to hear what +Robin will say. Mr. Higbid is prepared to pay a fancy price——"</p> + +<p>"He'd have to before I'd let him into my drawing-room," said the +General, with disgust. "Imagine letting the Court! And to a man who +sells hides!"</p> + +<p>"His money is as good as anybody else's. And he is received everywhere. +You are really too old-fashioned, Denis. Your ways need altering."</p> + +<p>"I am too old to change, ma'am," said the General, getting up and giving +himself a shake like a dog. "If you don't really mind being left——" He +wanted to get away to think over the fact that the Dowager was going to +settle in town. He could hardly keep himself from groaning. His peace +was all at an end. If he had not been too old to change, he would have +fled from London and left it to the Dowager. But big as it was, it was +too little to contain himself and the Dowager with any prospect of +peace.</p> + +<p>"I'll stay and have lunch with Nelly," the Dowager went on, quite +ignorant of his perturbation. "Afterwards, I'm going to take her to see +houses with me. <i>Of course</i>, I shall settle in your immediate +neighbourhood, if I can find anything suitable. I'm going to take Nelly +off your hands a bit, take her about and advise her as to her frocks. +She was wearing white chiffon the last time we dined here—a most +perishable material. I don't think your purse is long enough for white +chiffon, Denis. Then the young people ought to see more of each other. +We ought to be talking about trousseaux——"</p> + +<p>But at this point the General fled. If he had stayed another second he +would have said things that his kind and chivalrous heart would have +grieved over later. He fled, and left her Ladyship staring after him in +amazement.</p> + +<p>He clean forgot about the curry in the fretting and fuming of his mind, +or it occurred to him only to be consigned to Grogan, as though Grogan +were a synonym for something much stronger. His fiery indignation +between Sherwood Square and Pall Mall was quite amazing. The Dowager in +the next street! Why, he might as well order his coffin. And talking +about taking Nelly from him. That muff, Robin, too! When had the fellow +shown any impatience? He didn't want the girl to marry an oyster. He +remembered the glory and glamour of his own love affair, of that golden +year of marriage. His Nelly ought to be loved as her mother had been +before her, as her mother's daughter deserved to be. He wasn't going to +yield her to a fellow who would only give her half his tepid heart, who +would leave her to spend her evenings alone while he spouted in Radical +clubs or in that big talking shop, the House of Commons. He wouldn't +have it. And still——Robin was poor Gerald's son, and there was nothing +against him but his politics. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, the +General recognised the fact that he could have forgiven the politics if +it had not been for the Dowager.</p> + +<p>He had almost reached the doors of his club—Grogan might eat the curry +for him, and be hanged to him!—when he saw advancing towards him the +spare, elegant figure that sat its horse in front of the regiment below +the General's window every morning. The oddest gleam came into his eyes. +The young man had recognised him, and was blushing like a girl as he +came towards him. He had velvety brown eyes and regular features, was a +handsome lad, the General said to himself as young Langrishe lifted his +hat from his sleek, well-shaped head. He had the barest acquaintance +with Sir Denis, and he would have passed by if the old soldier had not +stopped him.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Captain Langrishe?" he said. "I am very much obliged to +you for the pleasure you give me every morning. I take it as uncommonly +kind of you to bring 'the boys' past my house. I assure you I quite look +forward to it—I quite look forward to it."</p> + +<p>Langrishe stammered something about the regiment delighting to do honour +to its old General, growing redder and redder as he did so. His +confusion became him in the General's eyes. He was certainly a +pleasant-looking, well-mannered boy, the General decided, and the +confusion of the young soldier in the presence of the old soldier an +entirely natural and creditable thing.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, my lad," said Sir Denis, putting his arm within the +other's: "if you've nothing better to do, supposing you come and lunch +with me. I'm just going in to the club. And you—on your way to it? I +thought so. You'll give me the pleasure of your company?"</p> + +<p>The General was half an hour late, yet he found a small table in a +window recess unappropriated. It was set for two, and a screen was drawn +about it so that the two could be as retired as they wished. More—the +General had not been forgotten in the distribution of the curry. Their +portions came up piping hot. From where they sat the General could see +Sir Rodney Vivash and Grogan button-holing each other. They were the +bores of the club, and for once they had foregathered, willingly or +unwillingly.</p> + +<p>After all, there were compensations—there were compensations; and the +General was hungry. His manner towards young Langrishe had an air of +fatherly kindness. There was a gratified flush on the young fellow's +lean, dark cheek. What was it the General had heard about Langrishe? Oh, +yes, that he had had rough luck—that his old uncle. Sir Peter—the +General remembered him for a curmudgeon—had married and had a son, +after rearing the young fellow as his heir. No wonder the lad looked +careworn. The regiment was an expensive one; not too expensive for Sir +Peter Langrishe's heir, but much too expensive for a poor man.</p> + +<p>However, it was no business of the General's—not just yet.</p> + +<p>"You have met my daughter, I think?" he said. They were at the cheese by +this time, and the General was apparently divided between the merits of +Gruyère and Stilton. He did not glance at Captain Langrishe, but he knew +quite as well as if he had that the colour came again to his cheek, that +the brown eyes looked unhappily conscious.</p> + +<p>"I have met Miss Drummond several times," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you must dine with us one evening."</p> + +<p>Young Langrishe looked at him in a startled way.</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much, sir," he said, "but, as a matter of fact, I am +negotiating a change into an Indian regiment. I don't know how long I +shall be here. And I shall be very busy, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Just as you like—just as you like." The General, by the easiest of +transitions, passed on to the subject of soldiering in India. He had an +unwontedly exhilarated feeling which later had its reaction in a +consciousness of guilt.</p> + +<p>"What would poor Gerald have said?" he thought, as he walked homewards +that evening. "And I've nothing against Robin—I've nothing really +against Robin, except his Peace Societies and all the rest of it. And +the Dowager—yes, there's always the Dowager. I should like to know what +on earth ever induced poor Gerald to marry the Dowager."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>GROVES OF ACADEME</h3> + + +<p>After that keen disappointment about the baby's forgetting her, although +she excused it to herself, arguing that at twenty months one cannot be +expected to have a long memory, Mary was more reconciled to the changed +conditions of her life.</p> + +<p>"I hope we are going to be together for a good many years," Lady Anne +said, "and presently you must be able to play and sing to me, to read to +me and take an interest in the things in which I am interested. You are +to go to school, Mary."</p> + +<p>So Mary went to school, first to the Queen's Preparatory School, then to +the Queen's College. Her years there were very happy ones, especially +those years at the College, after she had found her feet and made +friends, and gained confidence in herself and the world.</p> + +<p>"She sucks up knowledge as a sponge sucks up water," was the report of +the Principal, Miss Merton, to the delighted Lady Anne. "I hope Lady +Anne, that you will permit her to go in for her B.A. I should not be +surprised, indeed, if she captured a fellowship."</p> + +<p>"No fellowships," Lady Anne said, firmly. "What would she do with a +fellowship? I propose, as soon as she has done with you, to take her +abroad. I have a mind to see the world again through young eyes. And it +will put the coping-stone on her education. I shouldn't dare leave her +too long with you. Learning so often destroys a woman's imagination. +They work too hard, I suppose. It doesn't seem to come natural to them +yet as it does to men."</p> + +<p>"There's no question of Mary's working too hard," the Lady Principal +said, bearing these hard sayings of Lady Anne's with composure. "She has +fine brains. Whatever she wants in an intellectual way she can come at +easily."</p> + +<p>Mary, indeed, took her B.A. without over-much burning of the midnight +oil. Afterwards she always spoke with the tenderest affection of her old +school-days. She recalled with delight the spacious class-rooms, the old +garden with its great woodland trees, and the tiny rooms of the girls +who were in residence at the College, with their quaint and pretty +adornments—the place of so much young <i>camaraderie</i> and soaring +ambition and happy emulation. "I can hardly remember that anyone was +ever unkind," she used to say long afterwards.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the band of elder students with whom Mary was +connected in her latter days at the College had a generous enthusiasm +for her beauty, taking it as in a sense a credit to themselves.</p> + +<p>"You will be a living answer to them," said Jessie Baynes, who was small +and plain-looking, "when they say that learned women are always ugly."</p> + +<p>And the whole of the class applauded her speech.</p> + +<p>"I shall love to see you in your cap and gown," Jessie went on, firing +at the picture in her own imagination. "Very few of the men will be +taller than you, Mary. How they will shout!"</p> + +<p>Jessie had no thought at all of her own lack of height and grace, as she +had no idea of how pleasant her little brown face was despite its +plainness. She was going to earn her living by teaching, and, what was +more, going to make living easier and pleasanter for her mother and her +young sister. To get her mother out of stuffy town lodgings to a seaside +cottage, which was an unattainable heaven to the mother's thoughts, to +educate Edie and give her a chance in life—these were the things that +filled Jessie's mind to the exclusion of fear whenever she thought of +her ordeal at the conferring of the University degrees. To be sure, she +trembled a little when she thought of the long, brilliantly lighted +Hall, and all the fine ladies, and the scarlet robes of the Senators, +and the young barbarians in the gallery, and all the thousands of eyes +fixed on the one little dumpling of a woman going up to receive her +degree. If she might only win the fellowship! She would not care what +ordeal she passed through for that. So she put away the fear from her +mind. If she could only win the fellowship! But she was too humble about +her own attainments to have more than a little, little hope of that.</p> + +<p>How generous they all were, Mary thought, with an impulse of gratitude +towards those dear class-fellows that brought the tears to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"When we are photographed in our caps and gowns," said another, "you +must stand up in the middle of us, Mary, so that they will see how tall +you are."</p> + +<p>Mary reported their generosity to Lady Anne, with whom, by this time, +she was on the loving terms that cast out fear.</p> + +<p>"Very creditable to them," the old lady said, twinkling. "Don't let it +make you vain, Mary. You're well enough, but you aren't half as pretty +as a rose, or half as tall as a tree, and there are thousands of trees +and roses in the world."</p> + +<p>"I don't think myself pretty," Mary said, in a hurt voice. "There are +several of the girls far prettier. As for being tall, it is no pleasure. +I would much rather be little."</p> + +<p>"Your skirts will always cost you more than other girls'."</p> + +<p>"It is only because they are so kind and generous that they think well +of me," Mary went on. "And, oh! I do hope that Jessie will win the +fellowship. Everyone does, even——"</p> + +<p>"Even her opponents," the old lady said, drily. It was always Lady +Anne's way to seem cynical over things, even with those she loved best.</p> + +<p>"She has worked so hard for it," said Mary, "and Alice Egerton, who is +in the running, too, has shaken hands with Jessie, and told her that if +she wins it will only prove she is the better man."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, we are cultivating the manly virtues, too," said Lady Anne. +"Let me see: there are twenty young ladies in your class, and not a +spiteful one among them. I have never heard of so low a percentage."</p> + +<p>"If women were given something to think of besides petty interests," +Mary began hotly. "If they were educated, if they were given ideals——"</p> + +<p>"You are only on your trial yet, child," Lady Anne suggested. "We +produced very good women before Women's Colleges were heard of. I'm glad +they've not spoilt you, anyhow. No stooped shoulders, no narrow chest, +no dimmed eyes. I couldn't have forgiven them if they had made you pay a +price for your learning."</p> + +<p>When Mary received her B.A. degree she was applauded more rapturously +from the gallery than even the new Fellow, Miss Jessica Baynes, B.A., +who knew little enough about her own reception, since, as she left the +daïs, she had glanced up and made out her mother's little nutcracker +face, so like her own, in one of the circles of faces overhead.</p> + +<p>There was a little group in the balcony watching Mary with fond pride. +Lady Anne Hamilton's face shone again as the tall, slender young figure +went up amid the furious applause of the undergraduates, through which +the general clapping of hands could hardly be heard. Behind Lady Anne +were Mary's father and stepmother. Lady Anne had taken care that they +should not be forgotten in the distribution of tickets. Walter Gray +looked on quietly. He was very proud of his girl; but he had, perhaps, +too great a wisdom to set much store by the plaudits of the many. Mrs. +Gray, in a bonnet Mary had made for her and a mantle which had been +Mary's gift, was in a timid rapture. She was older by some years than +she had been when Mary went to Lady Anne first, but she was far more +comely. Her family seemed to have reached its limits, for one thing, and +she was no more the helpless drudge she had been. Several of the +children were at school, and that wonderfully elastic salary of Mary's +had done miraculous things in the way of bringing comfort and even +refinement to Walter Gray's home.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lady Anne, turning round, and touching Walter Gray's arm, +"I have not made too bad a fairy godmother, have I, now?"</p> + +<p>"She would never have grown so tall," Walter Gray said, with absent +eyes. He had yielded up Mary for her good, but he had never ceased to +miss her.</p> + +<p>One person who sat among the most distinguished group in the Hall looked +at Mary with a lively interest.</p> + +<p>"What a charming girl!" she said to her host, a very great person.</p> + +<p>"I believe she has been adopted as a sort of companion by old Lady Anne +Hamilton, who is a cousin of my wife's," he responded. "The girl has +been educated at her expense. Yes, it's a pretty thing. I only hope it +won't become a blue-stocking."</p> + +<p>"I must positively know her," said the lady. "She interests me."</p> + +<p>"You make me jealous," returned the great person, with playful +gallantry.</p> + +<p>Lady Agatha had been a peeress in her own right since she had attained +the tender age of two years. Her father and mother had died too early +for her to miss them, and she had shown from her childhood a capacity to +think for herself, which nurses and governesses and all such persons +looked on as absolutely shocking. She had had a guardian, a soft, +woolly, comfortable gentleman whose will she had brushed aside and +replaced by her own from the time she was eight years old. Legally, she +was not of age till twenty-one; in reality, she was of age at fifteen or +thereabouts. She consulted Colonel St. John, her guardian, about her +affairs, as an act of grace, because she was so fond of him and wouldn't +hurt his feelings for anything; but she made no secret of the fact that +at twenty-one she was going to be absolutely her own mistress.</p> + +<p>"You are your own mistress now," Colonel St. John said once, a little +ruefully. "You never do what I wish—you make me do what <i>you</i> wish. +Don't go too fast, Agatha, my dear. At twenty-one one is not wiser than +old people, though one may feel so."</p> + +<p>But he knew that he was talking to empty air. She was so eager to lay +hold on life. And she was equipped for it—there was no doubt of that. +Mr. Grainger, of Grainger, Ellison and Wells, who had had charge of the +business of the estate from time immemorial, whose trade it was to be +cautious, was cheerful over the Colonel's misgivings.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't feel anxious if she was a lad," he said. "I'd set her +against nine hundred and ninety lads out of a thousand for sound +common-sense. She won't do anything foolish. Take my word for it, she +won't do anything foolish."</p> + +<p>She did not do anything foolish. She took her own way about some things +against Colonel St. John, and even against Mr. Grainger, but she turned +out to be right in the end. She had a good many people dependent in one +way or another upon her for their well-being, and she insisted on coming +face to face with these—on dealing with them without an intermediary. +And she made no mistakes. She could see through shifty dishonesty as +well as if she had had three times her years and a wide knowledge of the +seamy side of human nature. She had always been an outdoor girl, and now +she displayed a knowledgeable interest in her own Home Farm and in the +affairs of her tenants.</p> + +<p>She used to say that the days were not long enough for all she had to +do. Certainly, she contrived to cram into them three times as much +pleasure, business, and philanthropy as her neighbours.</p> + +<p>She had an idea of the obligations of her position as lady of the soil +which made poor Colonel St. John gasp when she talked about it. There +was so much to be done for the people—churches to be built, or chapels, +if they preferred them, and school-houses, industries to be fostered—so +much encouragement to be given to honest endeavour. Her idea was that +the land should afford all the people wished for. She was going to stop +the terrible drifting of the people into the towns. Their lives were to +be made gayer. There should be entertainments. The farmers' wives and +daughters were to make butter and cheese like their forbears, to grow +fruit and vegetables, to rear poultry and sell eggs; but they were not, +therefore, to lead a life of narrow toil. They were to be rewarded for +their skill and industry. The fruit of their labours was to make life +sweeter and pleasanter for them. There were to be libraries and +reading-rooms, debating clubs, social gatherings.</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense!" Colonel St. John said, with his cotton-wool +eyebrows puffed out. "She'll dip the estate, and then she'll be coming +to ask us to pull her out. Worse, she'll only make them discontented."</p> + +<p>"She'll come out all right," Mr. Grainger said, rubbing his hands softly +together. "If she blunders, she'll learn wisdom from the experiment. +You'll see she'll come out all right, Colonel. The only thing that +troubles me is that she may have no time to get married. We don't want +her to be a spinster, hey? I confess I should like to see the succession +assured."</p> + +<p>It was this notable young lady who came in not so long after to Queen's +College, where a distinguished woman of letters was giving a series of +lectures on "The Poetry of the Sixteenth Century." Her entrance created +somewhat of a flutter. She was as tall as Mary Gray, but much more +opulently built. She had short, curling, dark hair, irregular features, +and violet eyes—not a bit handsome, but big and bonny and lovesome. Her +dress fluttered even these students. It was of purple velvet, with a +great stole of sables, and her sable muff had a big bunch of real +violets, which brought an odour of the quickening and burgeoning earth.</p> + +<p>She sat by the Lady Principal, and afterwards had tea with the students. +She asked especially for an introduction to Mary Gray, and then she +insisted on driving her as far as the Mall in her motor-car, which she +drove herself, while the chauffeur sat with folded arms behind. On the +way she talked poetry and politics with the same fervour she brought to +all her pursuits.</p> + +<p>"It has been borne in on me," she said vehemently, "that in working +among my own people as I have been doing I have been only tinkering at +things, just tinkering. One has to go to the root of the matter, to +abolish unjust laws, to replace them by good ones. Supposing I made my +estate, as I hope to make it, a Utopia, still there would be hundreds of +estates where the people would be in misery. It ought not to be left to +our good will to do things. We should be compelled to do them."</p> + +<p>Mary watched the flashing eyes with the greatest admiration. She felt +that Lady Agatha was a glorious creature, for whom she could do +anything. The hero-worship which is latent in the heart of all young +people worth their salt sprang into sudden life. Lady Agatha glanced at +her, noticed her expression, and smiled a rich, sweet, gratified smile. +She had made a disciple. To make a disciple was very pleasant to one of +her temperament. Like most women, she was a thorough propagandist.</p> + +<p>As she swept up to the gate of Lady Anne's house, the old lady herself +was standing just within it. She had come in from driving her little +pony phaeton, which she liked to drive herself. She had a little wild, +bright-eyed mountain pony, which would eat sugar and apples from her +hands, and was as much of a pet as a dog.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mary," she said, "introduce me. How do you do, Lady Agatha? I +know you by sight already. Won't you come inside and have some tea? I'm +very glad my Chloe didn't meet that uncanny monster of yours. I have +something to do to get her past the trams, I can tell you, much less the +motorcars."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't go out alone," Mary said, with tender concern. "Her +little pony is very wild, Lady Agatha, and she won't take the carriage, +unless she goes visiting."</p> + +<p>"You want to make me out an old woman," Lady Anne said, "and I shall +never be that. Come along in, Lady Agatha. I've been hearing about you. +What do you mean by making my tenants discontented? They're very well as +they are. We shall have to form a league against you, we indolent ones."</p> + +<p>Her Ladyship had a way of winning her welcome wherever she went. Lady +Anne had begun, like a good many other people, with a certain distrust +of the brilliant young woman who desired to conquer so many kingdoms. In +the end she yielded unreservedly.</p> + +<p>"A fine, big-hearted, generous creature," she said. "It makes me young +to look at her and hear her talk. And so she has taken a huge fancy to +my Mary. Very well, then, she can come and go; but she's not to have my +Mary for all that, for I want her for myself."</p> + +<p>"No one really wants me," said Mary, with suddenly dimmed eyes, "except +you and papa. But if they did they couldn't have me. I belong to you and +papa."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE RACE WITH DEATH</h3> + + +<p>It might have been considered great promotion for the daughter of Walter +Gray, who attended all day to the ailments of watches with a magnifying +glass stuck in his eye, to be the friend of Lady Agatha Chenevix as well +as the adopted child almost of Lady Anne Hamilton. Indeed, in the early +days, when Lady Agatha's friendship for Mary brought her into the finest +society the country provided, Lady Anne sometimes watched Mary narrowly, +to see how she was taking it. The result of these observations must have +been quite satisfactory to the old lady, judging by the energetic +shaking of her head after one or two of these occasions when she was +alone and thought over things. Once she spoke her thoughts to Lady +Agatha, to whom, indeed, she found herself often talking in a way that +surprised herself. There was something about the minx that forced even a +suspicious and reticent old lady into trust and confidence, and as her +trust and confidence increased so did her affection for the brilliant +young peeress.</p> + +<p>"People said I was mad," she remarked, "when I took Mary Gray into my +house, and into my heart. Matilda Drummond even said—and I have never +forgotten it to her—that if she was my nephew, Jarvis, she'd have my +condition of mind inquired into. Yet see how it has turned out! Is she +spoilt? Is she an upstart? Is she set above her family? She's over there +this minute with that poor little drab stepmother of hers. She worships +her father. The joys and sorrows of the poor little household are as +much to her to-day as the day she left them."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Lady Agatha. "She's pure gold. I saw it in her face the +first day I laid eyes on her. The only quarrel I have with her is that +so many people push me out with her. I don't mean you, of course, Lady +Anne. But yesterday I could not have her because she must go to your +doctor's wife, and to-day she was going for a long walk with that little +Miss Baynes. To-morrow it will be her father. It is his free afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I heard an amusing thing about the father the other day," said Lady +Anne. "Of course, Mary knows nothing about it. I called at +Gordon's—that is where Mr. Gray is employed—about a new catch for my +amethyst bracelet. I have known Mr. Gordon for years. He is a thoroughly +respectable man. It seems there is a very ill-conditioned person who +works in the same room as Mr. Gray—a good workman, but most +ill-conditioned. When he is especially bad-tempered he vents his anger +on his quiet room-fellow, who never seems to hear him but works away as +though he were a thousand miles distant from the grumbling and scolding. +Well, it seems that the other day, despairing, perhaps, of rousing Mr. +Gray by any other methods, he made a reference to Mary as having got +into fine society and looking down on her father. It's a little place, +after all, my dear, and you and your motor-car are known as well as the +Town Hall. Mr. Gray got up very quietly and threw the man downstairs; +then went back to his work without a word. Gordon saw it in quite the +right way. He said that the person thoroughly well deserved it, but that +the next time he mightn't get off with a few bruises, and that would be +awkward for Mr. Gray. So he has given him another room."</p> + +<p>"Ah, bravo!" Lady Agatha clapped her hands together. "That's where Mary +gets it. I've seen the light of battle in her eye—haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes—when she has heard of cruelty and injustice."</p> + +<p>Now that Mary's schooling was over, she was to see the world under Lady +Anne's auspices. They were to go abroad soon after Christmas, to be in +Rome for Easter, to dawdle about the Continent where they would and for +as long as they would. Everything was planned and mapped out. Mary had +her neat travelling-dress of grey cloth, tailor-made, her close-fitting +toque, her veil and gloves, all her equipment, lying ready to put on. +Her old friend, Simmons, had packed her travelling trunk. It had come to +almost the last day.</p> + +<p>And, to be sure, Mary must be much with her father and the others during +those last hours. She had gone with her father for a long country walk.</p> + +<p>"I wish you were coming, too," said Mary, clinging closely to his arm.</p> + +<p>"You will be bringing me back fine stories," her father said, patting +her hand. "I shall be seeing the world through your eyes, child."</p> + +<p>"I shall write to you every day."</p> + +<p>"I shan't expect that, Mary. You will be moving from place to place. I +know you will write when you can, and I am always sure of your love."</p> + +<p>While they talked Lady Anne was receiving Dr. Carruthers professionally. +She had had symptoms, weaknesses, pangs, of which she had told nobody.</p> + +<p>"I was inclined to go without telling you anything about it, doctor," +she said. "I was as keen upon it as the child. I am more disappointed +than she will be. I have been wilful all my life, but I am glad I did +not take my own way this time. It would have been a nice thing for poor +Mary if I had been taken ill in some of those foreign places."</p> + +<p>"You will be much better in your own comfortable home."</p> + +<p>Dr. Carruthers spoke cheerfully, but he could not keep the anxiety out +of his face.</p> + +<p>"You must have suffered a deal lately," he said pityingly. He had not +forgotten what Lady Anne had done for him and his Mildred. She had been +their faithful and kind friend from that propitious day when he had +picked Mary Gray from under the feet of the tram-horses. His position +was now an assured one, and he and his wife had a tender affection for +their benefactress.</p> + +<p>"I'm an obstinate old woman," said Lady Anne, with very bright eyes. The +doctor's visit had been an ordeal to her. "I have had the pain off and +on for the last few months, but I assured myself that it was merely +indigestion, which mimics so many things. I am glad my common-sense came +to the rescue at last. Do you think I shall go off suddenly, or shall I +have to lie, panting, like those poor creatures I've seen at the +hospital, labouring for breath? I shouldn't like that."</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head. How was he to know when the worn-out heart +would cease to perform its functions, and after what manner?</p> + +<p>"We must hope that you will not suffer," he said gently. "I will do my +best to save you that."</p> + +<p>"And I've plenty of spirit for whatever the good God sends," Lady Anne +said, her face lighting up. "I've always had great spirit. They said I +pulled through my childish illnesses twice as well because of my spirit. +I remember my dear mother telling me that when I had croup at two years +old I mimicked the cows and sheep and cats and dogs between the +paroxysms. I was just the same later on. I ought to have married a +soldier. My poor husband was a man of peace. He couldn't bear a loud +voice. Have a glass of wine before you go, doctor. I've just had a +bottle of Comet port opened. Try it. There's very little like it left in +the world."</p> + +<p>After Dr. Carruthers had taken his departure she went to her desk and +set about writing a letter. But she paused after she had written a few +lines, looked at the clock, and sat for a minute thinking.</p> + +<p>"No," she said aloud. "I won't wait till to-morrow. Mary shan't take the +chances. Who knows if I shall be here to-morrow? If I drive out to +Marleigh I shall just catch Buckton. He will be pottering round that +orchid-house of his. He will just be home from the office. He can make +me a new will there as well as here. Indeed, I ought not to have +postponed it for so long."</p> + +<p>She ordered her little pony phaeton. It was nearly five o'clock. There +would be plenty of time to drive to Marleigh Abbey, where her lawyer +lived, to interview him, and get back again before it was dark. She +would make Mary's interests safe. She had come to care for the child +more than she had ever expected to care. She was going to make a +provision for her, so that she should be secure against the chances and +changes of this life. Nothing very startling, nothing that need make +Jarvis grumble to any great extent; just a modest provision which would +not keep Mary from making use of the talents with which God had endowed +her and the education her fairy godmother had given her.</p> + +<p>It was not long before she had left the town behind, and was driving +along the winding road that ran by the foot of the mountains. The road +was very lonely.</p> + +<p>Chloe was rather nervous, not to say hysterical, on this particular +afternoon. Her mistress had not considered her as was her wont. She had +taken the shortest road, forcing her to meet a black monster of a +steam-tram which she had sometimes seen at a distance, a thing which was +her special abomination. Chloe had made a bolt for it, and had passed +the tram safely and got away on to the back road. She had been +accustomed, when she had made her small runaways before, to be petted +and soothed afterwards. Indeed, as soon as her terror had calmed a +little, and she was on the road she knew to be harmless, she slackened +down, expecting to hear her mistress's voice of tender scolding, to have +her mistress alight and stroke her with soft words. Instead of that she +was touched up pretty sharply.</p> + +<p>"Get me there, my girl," said Lady Anne. "Get me there quickly. You can +take your time going home, and we'll go the lower road. I feel as though +Death and I were running a race. I could never forgive myself if I died +before I'd provided for Mary."</p> + +<p>The pony gave her head a shake as though in answer to her mistress's +words, pricked up her ears and set off at a sharp canter.</p> + +<p>Suddenly something happened. Lady Anne had at first no realisation of +what it was. Jennings, the coachman, said afterwards that it must have +been the work of one of the mischievous lads whom he had driven with his +whip from staring in at his stable door. What happened was that the +pony's bridle, which had been snipped with a knife, had come apart, +fallen about her neck and then under her feet. She was off like the +wind.</p> + +<p>As for poor Lady Anne, suddenly rendered helpless, she caught at the +side of the little carriage, which was being dragged violently at the +pony's heels. She had need of all her spirit. Fortunately, the road was +a straight one, but there was not a soul in sight to help her, not a +sower in the fields, not a ploughman, not even a boy herding cattle +along the road. Her right hand still grasped the useless rein. She +stared before her, while the rocking of the little carriage grew more +and more violent, and the hedges and trees flew past them. How long +would it be before the terrified pony shook herself free of the carriage +altogether, or upset it on one of those mud-banks?</p> + +<p>The old spirit kept wonderfully calm and collected. There was just one +chance—that Chloe might keep the middle of the road, and presently pull +up of herself, being exhausted. If only the phaeton would not rock so +much. It was swaying from side to side at a terrific rate. The few +seconds of the runaway seemed æons of time to Lady Anne. She was holding +on now to both sides of the carriage, but her arm was through the reins. +Thank Heaven, the road seemed absolutely open and Chloe must exhaust +herself soon.</p> + +<p>Then—her eyes were distended in her face. They had swung round a little +incline, with a miraculous escape of running on a heap of shingle +intended for mending the roads. Just ahead of them were the lodge gates +and lodge of a big house. The gates were open. Out through them there +toddled a small child about three years old. The child set out to cross +the road. His attention was arrested by the noise of the runaway. He +stood in the middle of the road staring.</p> + +<p>Lady Anne uttered a loud, sharp cry. The child moved a few steps, fell, +and lay directly in the path of Chloe's feet. A woman ran out of the +lodge, screaming "Patsy, Patsy; where are you, Patsy?" Then she began to +wring her hands and call on all the saints.</p> + +<p>The pony, however, had of herself come to a standstill. The child was +under her feet, between her four little hoofs. She was shaking and +sweating and looking down. As for the child, after a second or so he +broke into a lusty roar. He was only frightened, not hurt, but it took a +little time for the mother to find that out by reason of the mud on his +face and the noise he was making. When she had reassured herself, she +carried him inside and closed the door of the lodge upon him. Then she +returned to the pony-carriage.</p> + +<p>Chloe was still standing there, in a piteous state of terror. Someone +was coming along the road—a policeman. Someone else was running from +the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>As for Lady Anne, the little figure had fallen forward. Her forehead was +down on the reins. Her eyes were wide open, and had a mortal terror in +their gaze. She would never set things right for Mary in this world. She +and Death had run a race together, and she had been beaten.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>DISPOSSESSED</h3> + + +<p>Lady Anne's nephew and heir, Lord Iniscrone, showed no friendly face to +Mary. He came as soon as possible, and took possession of the premises. +Lady Iniscrone was with him. She was a lady with a wide, flat, doughy +face. Her eyes were little and pale and cold. Mary thought afterwards +that if it had not been for Lady Iniscrone, Lord Iniscrone might have +been kinder. She remembered that Lady Anne had detested Lady Iniscrone +to the extent that she would never have her inside the house. She had an +idea, which she could not put away, while she hated it, that Lady +Iniscrone remembered that fact. She took possession of everything +thoroughly, as though she revenged herself on the dead woman. In her +cold speech she disparaged the things Lady Anne had held dear.</p> + +<p>Their attitude towards Mary was as though she were a servant no longer +necessary. She was not to eat at their table; she was to eat in her own +room or in the servants' hall.</p> + +<p>"Is it Miss Gray, my lady?" Saunders, the elderly parlourmaid, asked, +aghast. "Her Ladyship thought the world of Miss Gray. She might have +been her own child. And I will say, though we didn't hold with it at +first, yet——"</p> + +<p>Lady Iniscrone closed the discussion haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gray will have her meals in the servants' hall, or in her own room +if she prefers it, till after the funeral. We shall make other +arrangements then, of course."</p> + +<p>Saunders flounced out of the room. Although she was elderly and had +lived in Lady Anne Hamilton's house since she was fourteen, when she had +come as a between-maid, she had not forgotten how to flounce.</p> + +<p>"Mark my words," she said in the kitchen, "she'll make a clean sweep of +us, same as Miss Mary, as soon as ever the funeral is over. Supposing as +how <i>we</i> gives the notice!"</p> + +<p>And they did, to Lady Iniscrone's discomfiture, for she had intended to +stay on at the Mall and to keep the staff as it stood till she had +supplied its place. However, she showed her dismay only by her bad +temper.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've all pretty well feathered your nests," she said +acridly, "and can afford to retire."</p> + +<p>Nor was her bitterness lessened by the fact that Lady Anne had left +handsome legacies to each of the servants, annuities to the elder ones, +sums of money to the younger. But the will, dated some years back, made +no mention at all of Mary Gray.</p> + +<p>"It seems clear to me," said Mr. Buckton, talking the matter over with +Lord Iniscrone, her Ladyship being present, "that Lady Anne intended to +make some provision for her <i>protégée</i>. In fact, the letter which she +had begun writing to me, which was found in her blotter after her death, +plainly indicates that. She was, apparently, on her way to my house when +the lamentable accident happened. Dr. Carruthers had seen her that +afternoon, and had told her that her heart was in a bad way. I believe +she grew alarmed about the unprovided state in which she would leave +Miss Gray if she had a sudden seizure, and hurried off to me. In the +circumstances——"</p> + +<p>"Of course, we could not think of doing anything more for Miss Gray," +Lady Iniscrone put in, anticipating her lord. "She has already been +dealt with very handsomely out of the estate. She has had a most +unsuitable education for a person in her rank of life. She has lived +like a lady; been clothed like one. When I saw her she was wearing +ornaments—a brooch of amethysts, with pearls around it, I remember, +which, I am sure, ought to belong to the estate. I can't see that Lord +Iniscrone is called upon to do anything more for the young person. What +with those absurd legacies to the servants and the way Lady Anne +lived—a big house and a staff of servants and carriages and horses for +one old lady!—the estate has been impoverished."</p> + +<p>"Lady Anne had a great sense of her own dignity," the lawyer put in. +"And this house had been her home for more than fifty years."</p> + +<p>"Everything needs replacing," Lady Iniscrone grumbled, with a +disparaging look around. "Those curtains and carpets——"</p> + +<p>"Your Lordship will, I am sure, feel that, in making some little +provision for Miss Gray, you will be doing what Lady Anne wished and +intended to do," Mr. Buckton said earnestly, turning from the lady to +her husband.</p> + +<p>Lord Iniscrone's eyes fluttered nervously. He was not a bad little man +at heart, but he was entirely ruled by his wife.</p> + +<p>"I don't think the estate will bear it, Mr. Buckton," he said in a +peevish voice. "It is heavily burdened as it is. If a five-pound note +would be of any use——"</p> + +<p>"I can't see that we are called upon to do anything, Jarvis," his wife +put in again. "In fact, Mr. Buckton, you may take it that we do not +intend to do anything more for Miss Gray."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Lady Iniscrone."</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckton turned away and busied himself with his papers. He could not +trust himself at the moment to speak lest he should forget his +professional discretion.</p> + +<p>But Mary had not waited for the result of his intercession on her +behalf, of which, indeed, she knew nothing. Mary, who was sensitive to +every breath of praise and blame, had fled out of the dear house, the +atmosphere of which had become suddenly unfriendly. A good many friends +would have been glad to have had her. Lady Agatha Chenevix was away, +else she would have been by her friend's side to take her part with +passionate generosity and indignation. She was away, but Jessie Baynes's +little house on the edge of the sea, a bare little homely place, full of +sunlight and the sea-wind, had its doors open to her. One could not +imagine a better place for a sad and sorrowful heart than Jessie's +little spare room, with its balcony opening like the deck of a ship on +to the blue floor of the sea. Mildred Carruthers had come at once, in +the first hour of the girl's grief, to carry her off to the big house, +which was now amply justified by the size of the doctor's practice.</p> + +<p>Only, where would Mary go to but home? In all those years in the great +house on the Mall she had never come to find Wistaria Terrace too little +and lowly for her. Indeed, there was a wonderful wholesomeness and +sweetness to her mind about the little house. The transfiguring mists of +her love lay rosily over even the drudgery of her childish days. To be +sure, there had been hard work and short commons. She had been +insufficiently clad in winter, too heavily clad in summer. Her people +had gone without fires and many other things which some would have +considered essential. But there had always been love. Looking back on +those days, Mary saw with the eyes of the spirit which miss out +immaterial material things.</p> + +<p>She fled back home. She took nothing with her but what she stood up in. +Only her friend, Simmons, while Lady Iniscrone was absent from the +house, packed up all Mary's belongings, and conveyed them, with the +assistance of the coachman, across the lane to Wistaria Terrace. The +servants had made up their minds that Mary was not coming back.</p> + +<p>Lady Iniscrone had hoped, in conversation with Lord Iniscrone, that Mary +would not give them any trouble. Never was anyone less inclined to give +trouble than Mary. Not for worlds would she have gone back to the house +where the new cold rule was, to meet Lady Iniscrone's unfriendly eyes. +Only while the body of her benefactress was yet above ground she had +stolen across at quiet hours, in the absence of the enemy, to look for +the last time on the quiet face. She had carried away little Fifine. +Fifine was seventeen years old now, and shook incessantly and moaned in +a lost way in her darkness. But she knew Mary's voice. Mary was the one +that could comfort her. At Wistaria Terrace they went to the unheard-of +extravagance of having a fire in Mary's room, day after day, so that +Fifine might lie before it in a basket, and feel the warmth in her +little bones, and hear Mary's voice.</p> + +<p>The day of the funeral came. Mary stood by the graveside quietly, with a +veil down over her face. Walter Gray was by her side. She had come in +the doctor's carriage, and she had no leisure or thought for the +insolence with which Lady Iniscrone stared at her, as though her +presence there required explanation.</p> + +<p>She was going to work, to begin at once. Her dear, kind old friend, who +had meant to do so well by her, had at least equipped her for earning +her own bread. The Lady Principal of Queen's College had found her +work—temporary work, to be sure, but something to go on with till she +could look about her. The Lady Principal and Dr. Carruthers were against +her making any definite plans till Lady Agatha Chenevix should +return—she was in America, arranging for a display of her industries at +a forthcoming exhibition. They had an idea that Lady Agatha would expect +to be consulted in any plan that affected her friend's future.</p> + +<p>Returning home after the funeral Mary found that all her attention would +be required for a short time for Fifine. The little dog had had a fit or +something of the kind, and had rallied wonderfully, considering her +great age. She had missed her one friend during that hour of absence. +Dr. Carruthers came in and looked at the dog, stooping to examine it +with as much tender care as though it had been human and a paying +patient. "Keep her warm," he said. "There isn't much else possible. +There is nothing the matter, only old age. She seems to know you, Mary. +She is positively wagging her tail."</p> + +<p>"She is miserable without me," Mary said, wondering what she was to do +about Fifine when she took up that temporary work which the Lady +Principal of Queen's College had found for her. Meanwhile she devoted +herself to the little creature. But about three days after Lady Anne's +funeral Fifine solved all difficulties concerning her by dying quietly +in the night.</p> + +<p>Mary slipped in stealthily to the garden of the old house when the new +owners were not likely to be about, and placed the little rigid body in +the grave Jennings had dug for it, lined with a few flowers that had +come up in the beds, snowdrops and wallflowers and little pale mauve +double primroses. She wept a few bitter tears above the grave. The death +of the little dog was like her last link with her dear old friend. The +day had the bright, clear, strong sunshine of March. There were yet +drifts of snow in the valleys among the hills, but spring was coming, +and the bare boughs would soon be thick with the buds of leafage. She +took one look at the sunny, green place and the old house which had +harboured her so kindly. Then she went away with a drooping head.</p> + +<p>That very afternoon Lady Agatha came. She rushed in on Mary like the +March wind, big and beautiful, in her long cloak of orange-tawny velvet, +breathing fire and fury over the unkindness to Mary. She had interviewed +Lady Iniscrone, and had gathered from her what had been happening.</p> + +<p>"In one way I am selfishly glad, Mary, because you will belong so much +more to me. I am going to take possession of you. For the first time for +many years Chenevix House is to be opened this season. I am going to be +among the political hostesses. I shall do all sorts of things. I have +found a dear old lady to live with us, my father's twenty-second cousin, +Mrs. Morres. She will make it possible for me to do the things I want +without running tilt against all the windmills of prejudice. I shall +respect your mourning. You will have your own room to which you can +retire. Chenevix House looks over a quiet, green square. You shall see +the spring come even there. Afterwards, when the season is at an end, we +shall bury ourselves in the green country."</p> + +<p>She paused for breath, and Mary smiled at her. She was so big and bonny +and generous it was impossible not to smile at her.</p> + +<p>"Where do I come in?" she asked. "I want to earn my bread."</p> + +<p>"And so you shall. You shall earn it hard. You are to be my secretary, +Mary. I am going to be a leading Radical lady. They want hostesses. +There are things a woman can do for a cause much better than a man. I +consider my wealth, at least, my comparative wealth, my rank and youth +and energy and brains, and my splendid health, as so many weapons given +to me by God so that I may help the right."</p> + +<p>"You forget your charm," Mary reminded her. "It is the most potent of +all."</p> + +<p>Lady Agatha suddenly blushed. It was the first time Mary had seen her +blush.</p> + +<p>"Charm—oh, come, Mary! Why not beauty if you are inclined to flatter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed; why not beauty?" Mary repeated, looking at her with loving +eyes of admiration.</p> + +<p>"A big, black, bounding beggar!" Lady Agatha quoted against herself +merrily.</p> + +<p>But Mary was not inclined to make any further excursions from home. The +soul in her was chilled by her recent experiences. In her hurt and +unhappy state the little house at Wistaria Terrace seemed most +desirable. It gave her satisfaction to note the discomforting things +about her—the bare floor, the windows that shook and rattled, the +ill-fitting doors, the ugliness of the painted dressing-table from which +the paint had long departed, the chipped jug and basin that did not +match each other. She liked it all, even the carelessness about meals, +for there was love with it. Her younger sisters growing up had a kind of +worship for Mary. They served her out of pure love. She was not allowed +to do anything for herself. Yes, for the present, at least, home was +best. She could go out and earn money and bring it home to them. She +would stay henceforth in the world into which she had been born. She +would make no more excursions.</p> + +<p>However, these thoughts of hers were rendered vain by the fact that +Walter Gray positively took Lady Agatha's part against her. There was no +room for Mary in the cramped life of Wistaria Terrace. She had brains +and beauty and sympathy. The opportunity to make use of these gifts was +given her. She must not reject it.</p> + +<p>The thing was put on a business basis. Mary was to be Lady Agatha's +secretary, with a handsome salary. "I shall work you till you cry out," +her Ladyship promised, and it seemed like enough to be true. She was +talking already of writing a novel when they should retire to the +country. Her energy overflowed. She was perpetually seeking new outlets +for it. Her secretary was not likely to enjoy a sinecure.</p> + +<p>"No one but you could have sent me from you again," Mary said to her +father, in tender reproach.</p> + +<p>"It is for your good, Moll. You have outgrown Wistaria Terrace. We could +not long have contented you."</p> + +<p>But Mary shook her head. She thought she would have been very well +content at home. She could have got plenty of teaching to do. She +thought of the little house as of a resting place from which she was to +be debarred. But she would not dispute her father's will for her. He +rallied her, saying that if they kept her her head and shoulders would +presently be pushing themselves above the slates.</p> + +<p>"It was big enough for you," she said indignantly, "and your mind rises +to greater heights than mine ever will. You cramped yourself into it, if +it were a question of cramping. Why should not I?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes it was not big enough, Moll," he answered. "Sometimes it was +sore cramping, and at other times it was big enough to contain the +heaven and all the stars. Perhaps the ambition I flung away for myself I +keep for you. I would not have you at microscopic work all your days."</p> + +<p>So it was settled. For a little while longer Mary stayed on at home. +Then, when the leaves were just opening out in pale green silk, and all +the world was fragrant and full of the joy of birds, she went, +unwillingly, and turning back many times to make her sorrowful +farewells.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to stay till you begin to feel cramped," Walter Gray +had said. "I had rather you went away with your illusions."</p> + +<p>She did carry away her illusions. It was a happy and blessed thing for +her that she could make illusions about common things all the days she +was to live. Yet somewhere, in her hidden heart, she knew her father was +right.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE LION</h3> + + +<p>Mary was established, high up in Chenevix House. She was amazed at the +spaciousness of the rooms, the feeling in them as though the streets +were far away. The square was a wonder of waving and tossing green, +across which Mary looked from her window and saw other stately old +houses like the one she was in. At first she was never tired of admiring +the miracle of spring in London. She realised that no country greenness +is equal to the glory of the new leaf against the dingy house-fronts, +the green freshness about the black stems and boughs and branches.</p> + +<p>Lady Agatha was in a perpetual whirl of affairs and gaiety. All her +days, and her nights into the small hours, seemed to be filled. At this +time Mary had a great deal of her time to herself. In the morning she +wrote her Ladyship's letters, and selected from the newspapers such +things as her Ladyship ought to read. By-and-by she would be much +busier. She was taking lessons in short-hand and type-writing in the +afternoons. Her Ladyship would come in only in time to dress for dinner. +She had been driving in the park, she had been calling, she had been at +a concert, or a matinée, or an "At Home." She had been attending this or +that meeting. She was never in bed before the summer dawn, yet she would +be at the breakfast-table as fresh as a milkmaid, smiling at Mary and +telling her this and that bit of news or event of the time since they +had met.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morres, who had to accompany her to many places, slept every hour +of the day she could. She confessed to Mary in her dry way, that did not +ask for pity, that she found her Ladyship's energy superhuman. Sometimes +there was an interesting debate in the House of Commons, and Lady Agatha +must drop in after dinner to sit for an hour behind the gilded grille. +Afterwards she would go on to a political reception. Later to a ball, +where she would dance as though there had been nothing in all the long +day to tire her.</p> + +<p>Once or twice she had a quiet dinner-party, to which Mary came down in +her frock of filmy black, which made a delightful setting for her fair +paleness. At these dinners she encountered famous men and women, and +looked at them from afar off with wistful interest. In the drawing-room +afterwards she saw Lady Agatha the centre of a brilliant group. Someone +said of her that she was likely to be the spoilt child of politics, +since she could be audacious with even the greatest, and move them to +speak when no one else could. The great men shook their heads at her and +smiled. They warned her that she went too fast for them, that +impulsiveness, charming as it was in a woman, was not to be permitted in +politics. "If you would but learn diplomacy, my dear lady!" Sir Michael +Auberon sighed. But diplomacy seemed likely to be the last thing Lady +Agatha Chenevix would learn.</p> + +<p>Mary used to sit under Mrs. Morres's wing, and listen, through her witty +and wise talk, to the utterances of the great. She felt very shy of +these companies of distinguished men and women. Lady Agatha made one or +two attempts to draw her closer. Then, perceiving that she was happier +in her corner, she let her be.</p> + +<p>In her corner Mary listened. She listened with all her ears. Her cheeks +would flush and her eyes shine as she listened. There was a younger +school of politicians which was well represented at Lady Agatha's +parties. Their theories had the generosity of youth. Sir Michael Auberon +would listen to them, nodding his head, his fine, beautiful old face lit +up with as great a generosity as warmed theirs. He was very fond of his +"boys." If he must show them what was impracticable in their views he +did it gently. He rallied them with tenderness. He had none of the +mockery which is so searing and blighting a thing to hot youth.</p> + +<p>One night Mary, looking down the dinner-table, saw a face she +remembered. The owner of the face—a tall, loosely-built, plain-looking +young man—glanced her way at the moment, and stared—stared and looked +away again with a baffled air. Mary knew him at once for the boy she had +met seven or eight years before at the Court. He had aged considerably. +Men like him have a way of falling into their manhood all at once. His +hair was even a little thin on top—with that and his lean, hatchet face +he might have been thirty-five.</p> + +<p>Afterwards in the drawing-room he was one of those who stood nearest to +Sir Michael. Some of the others laughed at him, calling him Don Quixote, +and she heard Sir Michael say that the young man's theories were those +of the Gironde. "The Revolution devours her own children," he said, with +his fine old ironic smile. "And a good many of us have to eat our own +professions before we're forty. The great thing would be if we could +keep our youthful generosity with the wisdom of our prime."</p> + +<p>Looking towards Mary, he caught the flame of enthusiasm in her eyes, and +again he smiled. But this time it was a smile without irony, rather an +understanding and, one might have said, a grateful smile. All the world +knew that Sir Michael's private sorrows were heavy ones, and that he +leant the more on the alleviations and consolations his public life +brought him.</p> + +<p>Afterwards he asked to be introduced to Mary and talked with her for a +little while, making her the envy of the room.</p> + +<p>"She has a clear mind as well as a sound heart," he said. "She is on +fire with the passion for humanity. Take her about with you"—this to +Lady Agatha. "Let her see how the people live—what serfs we have under +our free banner. There is fine material in her. She should do good +work."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Morres sat by Mary, doing crochet, with a quiet smile. +Her tongue dripped cold water on all the enthusiasms.</p> + +<p>"Believe me, my dear, they will do nothing," she said placidly in Mary's +ear. That placidity of hers gave her the air of being as relentless as a +Fate. "Parties are Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Let Sir Michael get into +office and he'll do nothing. Those fine young gentlemen over there will +be the office-holders of twenty years to come, the fat sinecurists and +pluralists. The people were better off when, like the lower animals, +they had no souls. They were protected by their betters. Now they are at +war with them and they are more soulless than before. Dear me, how much +fine talk I have heard that never came to anything!"</p> + +<p>She would go on till the company had departed, and Lady Agatha would +come to her side, laughing, and ask her what horrible feudal theories +she had been propounding. The two differed on every point but one, and +that was in the mere matter of loving each other. Lady Agatha delighted +in her cousin's conservatism; and always said she would not have it +otherwise if she could. It was a <i>sauce piquante</i> to the dish of their +daily lives.</p> + +<p>"You shan't lead Mary astray," she would say with pretended indignation. +"If she knew the things Sir Michael has been saying about her!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Agatha, don't <i>you</i> go leading her astray. Politics are no +<i>métier</i> for a woman, or they should be subservient to something else. +Go marry, Agatha, and bring children into the world, and when you have +reared them you can set up a political salon and theorise about the +regeneration of humanity. Let Miss Gray do likewise. You play with these +things when you are young—later on you will find them dry bones."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" Lady Agatha said, with admiration. "What a pity she isn't +with us, Mary! What a pity she is only a destructive critic! Don't +listen to her, child!"</p> + +<p>That first evening of their meeting Sir Robin Drummond had come to +Mary's side and turned the page of her music while she sang. She had a +fresh and sweet voice, although of no great range or compass, and she +could sing, without music, song after song of the old English masters, +of Arne and Purcell and Bishop, and their delightful school.</p> + +<p>"She brings strawberries and cream to town," said someone who was not +particularly imaginative.</p> + +<p>Mary was conscious of the young man's scrutiny as he turned her pages, +and it embarrassed her, but she made no sign.</p> + +<p>Afterwards she met Sir Robin many times. He was at this time the adopted +candidate for an East-End constituency, and was becoming well known as +an advanced politician. He went further than his party, indeed, and +somewhat offended even his particular <i>clientèle</i> by the breadth of his +views. He and Lady Agatha were at this time engaged in the work of +organising labour, especially amongst the girls and women of the +worst-paid and most dangerous trades. It brought them often together +amid forlorn habitations and hopeless humanity. One of the difficulties +was the question of whether the alien women should be brought in. "They +will join the Union and they will go on underselling all the same," said +someone. But Sir Robin was of those who held that the alien should have +equal rights with her English sister, and that it was possible to teach +her to stand on her feet like one of the free-born. He was not chary of +his denunciations of certain methods among the Trade Unions and the +Trade Unionists, and therefore a crowd sometimes howled him down. But +there was always a minority at least to stand by him, and the minority +included the industrious and sober, the honest and thinking, among those +he desired to help.</p> + +<p>By-and-by he fell into a quiet friendliness with Mary Gray. He used to +take charge of the ladies when they went into the East End. Lady Agatha +used to say that he was a drag on the wheel, because he would not let +her do imprudent things, because he would veto it when a question of +their going into dangerous streets or houses or rooms, because he +insisted on their leaving by a side door a meeting which was becoming +turbulent, because he was always forbidding some extravagance or other +of her Ladyship's.</p> + +<p>"There is one thing about that young man," said Mrs. Morres, who was +chary of praise of her Ladyship's party: "he has excellent common-sense, +and I thank Heaven for it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; he has excellent common-sense," Lady Agatha echoed, with a +ruefulness which made Mary laugh suddenly.</p> + +<p>"You ought to marry him, my dear," Mrs. Morres went on, looping another +stitch of the endless crochet.</p> + +<p>"Marry Bob Drummond!" Lady Agatha repeated. "Marry Bob Drummond! Why, it +is the last thing in the world I should dream of doing."</p> + +<p>One evening, just at the end of the season, someone brought the latest +lion to a small reception at Lady Agatha Chenevix's. He was a very +modest and retiring lion, a quiet, very bronzed young man, who wore his +arm in a sling. He had had his shoulder torn in an encounter with an +African leopard. He had fought almost hand to hand with the beast over +the body of a Kaffir servant, and had rescued the man at the cost of his +own life, it seemed at first, later on of his right arm. It was doubtful +whether the strength and vitality of it would ever be restored.</p> + +<p>He was not merely a brave man, however, this Mr. Jardine. He had gone to +the Gold Coast, and from there into Central Africa, inspired, in the +first place, by the desire of knowledge and love of adventure. But, amid +the thrilling adventures and hairbreadth escapes, there had grown up in +his heart the liveliest interest in and sympathy with the people he +found himself amongst. He discovered that they had an ancient +civilisation of their own. To be sure, what remained of it hung in +shreds and patches on some of them; but there were others, civilised +after a fashion, which was not the Western one. He discovered +traditions, folk-lore, ancient poetry, laws, a wealth of customs. +Understanding the people, he came to love them. They interested him +profoundly. He was going back to them as soon as he could.</p> + +<p>He stayed after the other guests, and was yet talking eagerly to his +hostess when the dressing-bell rang.</p> + +<p>"We dine alone," Lady Agatha said to the old friend who had brought Mr. +Jardine. "And I go nowhere afterwards: I am fagged out. How glad I am +that next week sees us at Hazels! If you and Mr. Jardine could dine, +Colonel Brind?"</p> + +<p>The old friend answered her wistful look.</p> + +<p>"Our lodgings are not far off; we have only to jump into a hansom; we +should be back before the dinner-bell rings. Only—this fellow has a +host of engagements."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>Lady Agatha had hardly sighed when Jardine woke up as if from a dream.</p> + +<p>"Have I engagements?" he asked. "I do not remember any. Anyhow, I am a +convalescent, and the privileges of convalescence are mine. I vote for +that hansom, Brind."</p> + +<p>After dinner they sat around the fire and talked. Although it was June, +it had been a sunless day of arid east wind, and Lady Agatha, who always +snatched at the least excuse for a fire because it was so beautiful, had +ordered one to be lit. The three long windows were open beyond the red +leather screen that made a cosy corner of the fireplace, and the scent +of flowers came in from the balcony.</p> + +<p>Paul Jardine talked as much as they desired him to talk. He started on +his hobby about those West African peoples, and rode it with spirit and +energy. His friend laughed at him.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jardine," he said, "I can never again call you the lion that will +not roar."</p> + +<p>"Am I horribly loquacious?" The hero smiled, but was not more silent. He +had great things to tell, and he told them well and modestly. Lady +Agatha sat with her cheek shaded by a peacock-feather fan. There was a +deep glow in her eyes. Glancing across at her from the opposite corner, +Mary thought it must be the reflection of the firelight.</p> + +<p>She came to Mary's room after the guests had departed, when Mary was +preparing for bed, and sat down in the chair by the open window.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of him, Mary?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Of whom?" Mary said sleepily. They had met a good many people during +the day, so the question was a pardonable one.</p> + +<p>"Of whom! Why, of Mr. Jardine! Who else could it be?"</p> + +<p>She lifted her arms about her head, and the loose white sleeves of her +gown fell away from their roundness and softness.</p> + +<p>"What a man!" she said, with a long sigh. "What a man! That is life, if +you like. How tame the others seem beside him!"</p> + +<p>"He roared very gently," said Mary, "but it was very exciting."</p> + +<p>"Yes, wasn't it? That sail in the canoe down the river, with the jungle +on each side of them alive with wild beasts and venomous reptiles, to +say nothing of cannibals, and deadly sicknesses worse than any of those. +He said so little about the danger. One got an impression of the +extraordinary languorous beauty of the tropical vegetation; one smelt +it, that African night, with its enormous moon beyond the mists. There +was death on every side of him, in every breath he drew. He found what +he went for, the antidote to the bite of the death's-head spider. +Henceforth life in those latitudes will be robbed of one of its terrors. +What a man!"</p> + +<p>"It is a pity that we could not have heard him at the Royal Society," +Mary said, with a little yawn—they had been keeping late hours. "If it +had been a day or two earlier!"</p> + +<p>"But I am going," said Lady Agatha. "Why, Mary, it is only to alter our +arrangements by a day. Hazels—the dear place—will keep for a day +longer."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>HER LADYSHIP</h3> + + +<p>At Hazels Mary found her duties more onerous than they had been in town. +It was delightful to see Lady Agatha among her own people. She had made +life easier for them. Mary marvelled at the prettiness of the red-brick +farmhouses, with roses and honeysuckle to their eaves. She could never +get over the feeling that it was only a picture. They would walk or +drive to them, and the farmer's wife would come out and beg her Ladyship +to come in for a glass of cowslip wine; and she and Mary would go in to +a rather dark parlour—to be sure, the windows were smothered in +jessamine and roses and honeysuckle—and sit down in chairs covered in +flowery chintz, and sip the fragrant wine and eat the home-made cake, +while the topics of interest between landlord and tenant were discussed. +Then the farmer would come in himself, hat in hand, and his eyes would +light up at the sight of the visitor, and there would be more pleasant +homely talk of cattle and crops, and the harvest and the plans for the +autumn sowing, and the state of fairs and markets.</p> + +<p>There was Nuthatch Village, which seemed to have stepped out of +Morland's pictures. It was all so pretty and peaceful, with its red +gabled cottages sending up their blue spirals of smoke into the +overhanging boughs of great trees. Mary cried out in delight at the +quaint dormers, with their diamond panes, at the wooden fronts, at the +gardens chockfull of the gayest and most old-fashioned flowers.</p> + +<p>"As for prettiness," said Lady Agatha, "it isn't a patch on Highercombe, +a mile away, and, what is more, I've done more than anyone else to spoil +its prettiness. I've filled in the pond and driven the swan and the +water-hen to other haunts. I've given them a new water-supply and done +away with the most picturesque pump, which was sunk in 1770 by Dame +Elizabeth Chenevix. I've put new grates and new floors into the houses, +and I've seen to it that all windows open and shut. The pity of it is +that I can't compel them to make use of their privilege of opening. +Also, I've introduced cowls on the chimneys. My friend, Lionel Armytage, +the painter, lifted his hands in horror at my doings. I'd have liked to +get at the chimneys, but I'd have had to pull down every cottage in the +place to rectify them. Oh, I've spoilt Nuthatch, there's not a doubt of +it. You must see Highercombe."</p> + +<p>"The children seem healthy," Mary said thoughtfully, "and the old people +walk straighter than one sees them often."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, that is it." Lady Agatha's face flushed and lit up. "I've made +it healthy for them. Highercombe is a painted lie—a pest-house, a +charnel-house, full of unwholesome miasmas from its pretty green, its +pond covered with water-lilies. Death lurks in that pond. There is bad +drainage and bad water; the damp oozes through the old brick floors of +the houses. The whole place is as deadly in its way as those West +African jungles of which Mr. Jardine told us."</p> + +<p>They were to see Mr. Jardine later. At present he was on a round of +visiting at the houses of the great. The names of the people who had +elected to do honour to Paul Jardine would have been a list of pretty +well the most illustrious persons in the kingdom. When Lady Agatha had +suggested to him that he might give a week to Hazels before the summer +was done, he had been eager about it, had even suggested dropping some +of his other engagements. But that she would not hear of. She seemed to +take an odd pride and pleasure in the way he had conquered the world +best worth conquering.</p> + +<p>"What!" she had said. "Drop Sir Richard Greville and Lord Overbury! Not +for worlds! You may find it dull. Sir Richard lives the life of a +hermit, and you won't get anything fit to eat at Lord Overbury's. He +never knows what he's eating, and his cook has long given up trying to +do credit to herself. I believe that only for his dining-out he'd be +starved. Even as it is, he's been known to take mustard with his soup +and red-currant jelly with his cheese. Still—he's Lord Overbury!"</p> + +<p>They led a very quiet life at Hazels, seeing hardly anyone. Lady Agatha +had declared that she was going to make up for her rackety life in town, +as well as to prepare for the winter. She had looked as fresh as a rose +through all the racketing, and when she talked about the need for rest +she had smiled.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, her energy was too overflowing to permit of her +resting as other folk rested. A change of occupation was about as much +as one could hope for. And now she was restless as she had not been +before, for, energetic as she had always been, she had never driven +others. Indeed, many people had found absolute restfulness in her +Ladyship's big, wholesome presence.</p> + +<p>"The life in town has only stimulated me, Mary," she confessed; "just +stimulated me and excited my brain. I must work it off somehow. Let us +begin at the novel to-morrow."</p> + +<p>They began at the novel. Lady Agatha dictated it, and Mary took it down +in short-hand. They worked out of doors. Mary had her seat under the +boughs of a splendid chestnut tree on a little green lawn. The lawn was +at the side of the house, not over-looked, enclosed on three sides by a +splendid yew hedge. The dogs would lie at Mary's feet. There were Roy +the St. Bernard, and Brian the bull-dog, a toy Pomeranian, and a little +Chow. The dogs always stayed at Hazels. "If I took them up to town," +Lady Agatha said, "they would see more of me, to be sure, but then they +would always be losing me, for, of course, I couldn't take them out in +town. And they always know I'll come back—they're so wise. The parting +is dreadful, but they know I'll come back."</p> + +<p>Mary sometimes wondered how her Ladyship had found time to think out her +novel. For it seemed all ready and prepared in her mind. She would sweep +up and down the grass while she dictated. Mary used to say that it meant +a ten-mile walk of a morning. The train of her white morning-dress +lopped the daisies in their places; the incessant passage of her feet +made a track in the grass. Sometimes she would pass out of her +secretary's hearing and have to be recalled by Mary's laughing voice of +remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"Am I afflicting you, Mary?" she asked on one of these occasions. "Am I +overwhelming you? It's a horrible flood, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"You are very fluent," Mary answered, looking down at the queer little +dots and spirals on her paper. "I daresay we'll have to prune it before +it's printed. But it is a good fluency, a rich fluency. To me it is +irresistible—like a spring freshet, like the sap rushing madly through +all the veins of spring."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you feel it?—you feel it like that, Mary? I feel it so myself; I +riot in it."</p> + +<p>"It will have no sense of effort—it is vital. I hope we shall be able +to keep it up."</p> + +<p>"Why not, O Cassandra?"</p> + +<p>She stood with one hand on the back of Mary's chair, and looked up into +the tree.</p> + +<p>"The book should have been written in spring," she went on. "I feel the +spring in my blood. Why should I, Mary, now when it is full summer, and +the trees are dark?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, unless that you were so busy in spring that you had not +time to enjoy it. Come, let us get on; perhaps presently you will flag. +We must get the book done before anyone comes to interrupt us."</p> + +<p>"Never was there such a willing co-worker. You mustn't overdo it, Mary. +How many words did I dictate to you yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Six thousand."</p> + +<p>"And you gave them to me typewritten this morning."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see how they looked in type. It is all right, Agatha. Even +you cannot go on for long, dictating six thousand words a day. We must +take the tide at the flow."</p> + +<p>"Afterwards I shall do a play—after I have given you a rest."</p> + +<p>"More kingdoms to conquer," Mary laughed. "There is only one person like +you—the Kaiser."</p> + +<p>"I have an immense admiration for him."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morres meanwhile sat and smiled to herself. She had given up the +crochet for point-lace, which, as it had more intricate stitches, +necessitated the more care. Sometimes she knitted and read with a book +in her lap. But when she was not reading, she smiled quietly to herself. +It was a curious smile, half-satisfied as one whose prognostications +have come true, half-dissatisfied as though there was no great cause for +congratulation.</p> + +<p>Once Mary was curious enough to ask her why she smiled. Lady Agatha at +the piano was playing Wagner like a professional musician. Mrs. Morres's +smile grew more inscrutable.</p> + +<p>"It amuses me," she said, talking loudly, so that her words might reach +Mary through the storm of the music, "to find that Agatha is just a +woman, after all. It amuses me—and yet—it had been happier for you and +me if she had contented herself with the unrealities of life a little +longer."</p> + +<p>Mary did not understand at the moment. She began to understand a little +later when Mr. Jardine came. The novel, after all, had not been +finished. For the last week or so before the visitor arrived her +Ladyship had apparently lost interest in it.</p> + +<p>"My brain has dried up, Mary," she said. "I should only spoil it if I +went on. Put it away in a drawer, and when I feel like it we can go on +again. You want a rest. I've over-tired you."</p> + +<p>"I felt I couldn't rest till it was done," Mary said, with a little +sigh. "I wanted to know what became of them all. And it is such an +interesting point. Tell me, does Clotilde marry Mark, after all?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know? I have nothing to do with what she does. Clotilde +knows her own mind. I do not. Wait till we get back to it."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you should finish it—you should finish it. You'll never get that +young green world in it again. It was an inspiration. We should have +held on to it like Jacob to the angel's robe."</p> + +<p>But for the time Lady Agatha's literary energy was exhausted.</p> + +<p>"I daresay there's a deal of fustian in it. There's sure to be," she +said. "I don't think anything could be really good that was produced +with so little pain. I daresay I'll be for tearing it up, so you'd +better lock it away. Do you feel equal to walking ten miles? If not, get +your bicycle and I'll walk beside you. I've been cramped up too long."</p> + +<p>This time it was a mood of physical restlessness. She walked and rode +and went out golfing, and played tennis, and rowed on the river, and did +a thousand things, while Mrs. Morres made her delicate wheels and +trefoils, and smiled a more Sibylline smile than ever.</p> + +<p>At last he came. When the sound of his footstep and of his voice reached +them where they stood in the drawing-room awaiting him, her Ladyship +turned to Mary, and her face was full of an immense relief.</p> + +<p>"I didn't really believe he'd come," she said. "I've been feeling quite +sure that something would occur to prevent his coming."</p> + +<p>"The weeks have been endless," Paul Jardine said, coming in and taking +her Ladyship's two hands. "How could you put me off till September? I've +had a heavy time. I don't like being made much of by other folk, so I am +going out again after Christmas."</p> + +<p>Then, to be sure, Mary knew. The pair leaped to each other as though +they had been two halves of one whole separated long ago, and now drawn +together in a magnetic rush. Mary had always known that when Lady Agatha +attracted she attracted irresistibly; there was no half-way, no +haltings, no looking back possible.</p> + +<p>"We are out of it, Mary, we two," Mrs. Morres said, and the smile had +become a trifle weak and wavering. "What do you suppose is going to +become of us? Hazels is a pleasant place, and there has always been +something of assurance and comfort about Agatha. I had a hard life, my +dear, before I came here. Yet what would she do with us? She can't very +well take us out to Africa. I, at least, should not know what to do in +those places."</p> + +<p>It was a wooing that was not long a-doing. Her Ladyship and Mr. Jardine +came in one evening in time for afternoon tea. The days were closing in +by this time, and a fire was welcome. There had been rain, and the fire +sparkled on her Ladyship's black curls and her eyelashes as she stood by +the fire, taking off the long cloak in which she wrapped herself when +she went out walking in bad weather. Her eyes were at once bright and +shy.</p> + +<p>"Congratulate me," she said. "He has consented to take me with him. He +held out for a long time, but I was determined to go. As though I should +take the chances!"</p> + +<p>"It is I who am to be congratulated," said Paul Jardine, and the +happiness in his voice thrilled his listeners. "Of course, I wouldn't +have listened to her if she wasn't so splendidly strong. It will be an +odd place for a honeymoon. Do you think I ought not to have consented to +take her, Mrs. Morres?"</p> + +<p>"For how long?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morres's voice shook. All the Sibylline quality was gone from it +now.</p> + +<p>"For a year. I must fulfil my engagements. Afterwards I must do my best +for them over here. I never thought that I could do as I would as a +married man. Do you think I ought not to have consented?"</p> + +<p>"She would have gone without your consent."</p> + +<p>Lady Agatha came over and put a hand on her shoulder, a kind, caressing +hand.</p> + +<p>"You are quite right," she said. "Oh, he has wriggled, but it had to be. +It had to be, from the first minute we met."</p> + +<p>"I knew it."</p> + +<p>"You did, you wise woman. And you will keep house for me when I am gone? +You will take care of the dogs for me? You will oscillate between Hazels +and town? You will keep the places ready against our return? You are +never to leave us."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morres's eyes overflowed.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "it would have broken my heart to have left you. +And Mary—what is to become of Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I have a plan for Mary, unless she will stay here with you."</p> + +<p>"I must earn my bread," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"For all the bread you eat, I eat four times as much as you. Still, you +have talents to be used for the many, as Sir Michael Auberon said. I +have no right to keep you from them. You will talk to Robin Drummond +about that. He is starting a bureau for purposes of organisation amongst +the women. He has had his eye on you. I told him he could not have you. +Now, it will fill a gap, perhaps. I shall need you again."</p> + +<p>"The funny thing," said Mrs. Morres, and the amusement had come back in +her voice—"is that Colonel St. Leger won't like your marriage at all. +He has always wanted you to be married. But now—this African +marriage—he will talk about it as though you were marrying a man of +colour, Agatha, my dear. How his eyebrows will go out!"</p> + +<p>"To think," said Mary, with a little sigh, "that the novel is +unfinished, after all."</p> + +<p>"A novel is so much more interesting," said Lady Agatha, "when you live +it, Mary. Besides, it has troubled me that if I published the novel I +must come into competition with the legitimate workers. They should form +a Trades' Union against us, women of leisure and money, to keep us from +poaching on their preserves. They really should. My dears, I have a +presentiment that the novel never will be finished."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE HEART OF A FATHER</h3> + + +<p>Oddly enough, seeing the General's feeling towards his sister-in-law, +seeing, too, that he and Nelly had hardly ever had a thought or taste +that was not in common, a certain affection grew up on Nelly's part for +Lady Drummond. An acute observer would have said that the affection had +something conscience-stricken about it. There were times when Nelly's +eyes asked pardon of the Dowager for some offence committed against her, +and this usually happened when the Dowager was making much of her, as of +a daughter-in-law who would be dearly welcome when the time came. +Something of the love Lady Drummond had borne for her husband had passed +on to his niece. She was immensely proud, in her secret heart, of the +deeds of the Drummonds. Despite her hectoring ways, she looked up to and +admired the General, although he had been too simple to discern the fact +and profit by it. Robin's divergence from his father's ways was, +secretly, an acute disappointment to her. When she caressed Nelly with a +warmth which none of her friends would have credited her with +possessing, there was compunction with the tenderness. The child ought +to have had the delight of marrying a soldier, a hero whom she could +adore, as she herself had adored her Gerald. When she pressed the golden +head to her angular bosom she was asking the girl's pardon for her son's +shortcomings.</p> + +<p>"I shall have heroic grandchildren," she said to herself. "Although +Robin is a throwback to the Quaker, the grandsons of Gerald and Denis +Drummond must be fighting men."</p> + +<p>She pondered long over those grandchildren, and derived a grim pleasure +from the thought of them. She even spoke of them to the General, when +Nelly was out of hearing.</p> + +<p>"It was a disappointment to both of us that Robin is a man of peace," +she said, acknowledging the fact for the first time. "Not but that he is +a good boy—a very good boy. The fighting strain will recur in the next +generation. We shall have soldiers among our grandchildren."</p> + +<p>"Grandchildren!" growled the General, turning very crimson in the face. +"I call it indelicate to discuss such subjects. As for Nelly's marrying, +why, she's only a child. I should feel very little obliged to the man +who would want to take her from me at her age."</p> + +<p>"Nelly is nineteen," the Dowager reminded him, "and the marriage can't +be delayed much longer. It ought to be a source of satisfaction to us +that the young people are so pleased with the arrangement. I know that +Robin has never thought of anyone but his cousin, and I am sure it is +just the same with the dear child."</p> + +<p>The General grew red again—not this time with anger, but rather as +though the Dowager's words had stirred some sense of guilt in his +breast. He muttered something grumpily, and, discovering that his +favourite pipe must have been left in his own den, he escaped from Lady +Drummond for a while.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, his mind had been plotting mischief. He did not +care so much that it was against the Dowager, if it had not been that +the memory of his dead brother came in to complicate things. And, after +all, his plotting seemed to have come to naught. He had gone so far as +to invite young Langrishe to dinner for a specific occasion, without +result. The young man had written to say that he had effected his +exchange into the —th Madras Light Infantry, and would be so very much +occupied up to the time of his departure that he feared dining out was +out of the question.</p> + +<p>The General had known he was going away. He had known it before he +received that letter, before he had seen it in the Gazette. He had known +from the day the regiment had gone by without Captain Langrishe in his +wonted place. He had felt with his arm about his girl's shoulders the +sudden shock that had passed through her. So she had not known either. +He had not prepared her. There was not an understanding between them. He +saluted as light-heartedly as ever to all appearance, but he did not +look at Nelly. Nor did he make any remark on the change in the regiment.</p> + +<p>After that day the passing of his "boys" ceased to be the old joy to +him. Something was gone out of the ceremonial. It took all his <i>esprit +de corps</i> to pretend to himself as well as to others that he felt no +difference. He felt the limpness and dejection in Nelly. He saw that her +roses had faded, that she walked without the old joyous spring. He heard +her no longer talking to the dogs, trilling to the canary. It was +January now, and raw, cold weather. It seemed as though the sunshine had +vanished from the house for good. The General had been wont to say that +the cheerfulness of his house was within it, not without it. He had come +home from London fog and rain with a happy sense of its bright fires and +spaciousness, its carpets and furniture, not so new that a muddy foot or +a stray shower of tobacco-ash was a thing to be feared—old friends +every one of them. The love and loyalty within his doors were something +that came out to welcome the General's home-coming like a sudden +firelight streaming out into the black night.</p> + +<p>Now his little girl was unhappy, and the shadow of her unhappiness was +over his nights and days. It was when he felt this that he had written +to Captain Langrishe, saying nothing to her about it, stealing out, in +fact, at night to post the letter secretly, he whose correspondence, +such as it was—he was no great penman—had always lain in the +letter-basket on the hall table for the servants to scrutinise the +addresses if they would before it was posted.</p> + +<p>When the answer came he congratulated himself on his forethought. +Luckily, that morning he was first at the breakfast-table. Of late +Nelly, who had been wont to rise as cheerfully as a waking bird, was +tardy occasionally. The General suspected broken sleep, and had bidden +the servants tenderly not to call her, although the breakfast-table was +not the same thing with no bright face and golden head opposite to him.</p> + +<p>When he had read the letter he thrust it into an inner pocket. The +servant, who was attending, went away at the moment, and the General got +up quickly, and with a stealthy glance at the door, buried the letter in +the heart of the fire, raked the coals over it, and was in his place +before the servant returned.</p> + +<p>"Confound the fellow!" he said under his breath.</p> + +<p>Plainly, there was nothing more to be done. The child had to go through +it. People had to endure such things. Yet he was miserable, watching +furtively her dimmed roses and the circles about her eyes. His little +Nell, who had lived in the sunshine all her days!</p> + +<p>It was, perhaps, not to be wondered at that, in the perturbation of his +mind, the pendulum should have swung towards Robin. "Confound the +fellow!"—(meaning Captain Langrishe)—"What did he mean by making Nelly +unhappy?" A still, small voice whispered to the General that the young +man was acting on some foolish, overstrained, honourable scruple just as +he would have done himself in his youth—nay, to-day, for the matter of +that. But he would not listen to the voice. He fretted and fumed, puffed +himself up into a great rage as men of his temperament will. Confound +the fellow! He had gone half-way to meet him, for Nelly's sake, and the +fellow had refused to budge. Confound him and be hanged to him! The +General would have used much worse language if the simple piety which +hid behind his blusterousness had not come in to restrain him.</p> + +<p>He blamed himself—to be sure, he blamed himself. What a selfish old +curmudgeon he had been, always thinking of himself and his own likes and +dislikes! Where could his Nelly find greater security for happiness than +in the keeping of Gerald's son? Everybody thought well of Robin. There +had never been anything against him. Why, not a week ago, one of the +finest soldiers in the army, a field-marshal, a household word in the +homes of England, had button-holed the General to congratulate him on a +speech of Robin's.</p> + +<p>"That young man will be a credit to you, Drummond," he had said. "Mark +my words, that young man will be a credit to you."</p> + +<p>And the General had been oddly impressed by the opinion, coming from his +old comrade in arms, and one of the finest soldiers that ever stepped. +And, to be sure, he had been trying to set Nelly against Robin all the +days of her life.</p> + +<p>When he had come to this point in his meditations he groaned aloud. A +thought had come to him of how little Nelly would be really his, married +to Robin Drummond. He would have no need for the house then. He would +have to dismiss the servants, the old servants of whom he was fond, who +adored him, and go into lodgings. He might keep Pat, perhaps. Even the +dogs would go with Nelly. He would never have his girl any more. The +Dowager would be always there. The Dowager would know better than anyone +how to set up an invisible barrier between Nelly and her father. Why, +since she had been their neighbour things had not been the same. She had +carried Nelly hither and thither, to concerts and At Homes and +picture-galleries and what-not. She talked of presenting her at Court, +with an air of significance which the General loathed. The question in +her eye and smile—the General called it a smirk—the very transparent +question was as to whether it was not better to wait and present Nelly +on her marriage.</p> + +<p>When the Dowager was sly she made the General furious. Was his little +girl to be married out of hand to Robin Drummond without being given the +chance to see the world and other men? He asked the question hotly, +pacing up and down the faded Persian rug in his den. Then a chill came +on his heat. He had not been able to keep Nelly from choosing, and she +had chosen unwisely. He had had a dream of himself and young Langrishe +and Nelly and the babies in the big happy house. They would belong to +him—no one would push him away from his girl. They would be together +till they closed his eyes. The thought of it now was like a green oasis +in the desert; but it was a mirage, only a mirage!</p> + +<p>And Nelly must not suffer. Langrishe had rejected her—rejected that +sweet thing, confound him! And there was her cousin Robin, patient and +faithful, waiting to make her happy. He forgot that once upon a time he +had been furious with Robin for his patience. Robin was a kind fellow, a +good fellow. He seemed to be always at the beck and call of his mother +and Nelly, always ready to escort them. Why, only yesterday Nelly had +said that there was no one so comfortable as Robin to go about with, and +then, in a fit of compunction, had flown to her father and hugged him +hard.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Nell, never mind," the General had said. "I never took you +about much, did I? We were great home-keepers, you and I. Never seemed +to want to gad about, did we? I ought to have taken you about more. It +was a dull life for a young girl—a dull life. I ought to be obliged to +your aunt for showing me the error of my ways, for making life +pleasanter for you."</p> + +<p>He gulped over the end of the speech.</p> + +<p>"It was a lovely life," cried Nelly wildly, and then burst into tears.</p> + +<p>The General was terribly distressed. He had had no experience of Nelly +in tears. She had never wept or fainted or done any of the interesting +things young ladies were supposed to do in his time. She had been always +the light of the house, always happy and healthy and gay.</p> + +<p>While he looked at the bell uncertainly, being half of a mind to summon +assistance, Nelly relieved him from his doubt by running away out of the +room, and when they met again he did not remind her of the scene. That +discretion of his went to her heart. It was so strange and pitiful for +him to be discreet, so unlike him.</p> + +<p>After that he began to praise Robin Drummond, not too suddenly nor too +effusively at first, but by degrees, so as not to awaken Nelly's +suspicions. He amazed Robin Drummond by his cordiality in those days, +and the young fellow commented on it whimsically to Nelly herself.</p> + +<p>"He has been telling me all my life that I am a poor creature," he said, +"and here he is, to all intents and purposes, eating his own words. Just +fancy his wading through that speech of mine on the estimates and +pretending to be interested in it, even praising it, Nell. Seeing that +the speech was all against our maintaining our big standing army, on a +motion to cut down the expenditure, it is bewildering. Is it a mild +joke, Nell dear?"</p> + +<p>"You may call it a joke if you like," she said, her eyes filling with +tears. "I call it heart-breaking, heart-breaking. If he would only abuse +you as he used to do!"</p> + +<p>"Dear Nell, what's up?" asked Robin, in great penitence. "I had no idea +I was saying anything to hurt you. The dear old man! Why, I never +resented his abuse. I'd rather he'd abuse me, like a dog, as they +say—though I don't see why anyone should want to abuse a dog—if it +made you happier."</p> + +<p>Certainly, all Nelly's world was very good to her in those days. As for +Robin Drummond, he thought of women with a chivalrous tenderness +somewhat strange considering that the Dowager was his mother. To him +they were something delicate, mysterious, inexplicable. If he had had a +sister he would have adored her. Not having one, he lavished on Nelly +the feeling he would have given a sister; and hitherto he had been +content with the ardour of his feelings. What could a man wish for +sweeter and prettier beside his hearth than little Nelly? He had fallen +in love with that plan of his mother's for him and Nell with lazy +contentment. He liked Nelly's society, and it did not occur to him that +he would be just as well pleased with her daily companionship if he +could have it without the tie between them becoming more than cousinly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>LOVERS' PARTING</h3> + + +<p>It might have been better for Nelly if her father had told her of those +tentative advances to Captain Langrishe, for then her pride might have +come to her aid. As it was, she had nothing to go upon but those looks +of his, and his manner to her when they had met at the houses of +friends. For they had met, and that was something the General did not +know. More, Nelly had engineered, with the cleverness of a girl in love, +an acquaintance with Captain Langrishe's sister, a Mrs. Rooke, who lived +in one of the Bayswater squares. Mrs. Rooke was a vivacious little dark +woman, with a cheek like a peach's rosy side. She was perfectly happy in +her own married life, and she had the happily-married woman's desire to +bring lovers together. She had taken a prodigious fancy to Nelly. While +Captain Langrishe yet remained in England that house in the Bayswater +square had an overwhelming attraction for Nelly.</p> + +<p>She had gone there first under the Dowager's wing. Cyprian Rooke, K.C., +belonged to an unexceptionable family, and even the proud Dowager could +find no fault with Nelly's friendship for his wife.</p> + +<p>In those days poor Nelly used to feel a perfect monster of deceit. For, +first of all, she was deceiving her dear old father. The name of Rooke +signified nothing one way or the other to him. Then there was the +Dowager, who had proved the most patient and considerate of chaperons, +sitting wide-eyed and cheerful till her charge had danced through the +programme if it so pleased her; going hither and thither to crowded At +Homes, attending first nights at the play—doing, in fact, everything to +give Nelly a good time. To be sure, the Dowager attached no importance +to the name of Langrishe any more than the General did to that of Rooke.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rooke gave a good many dances after Christmas, and Nelly was at +them all. Sometimes Robin was there, sometimes that was not possible. +And Robin was out of his element at such gatherings, since he did not +dance and could find no conversation to his mind while he leant against +the wall of the ball-room or hung about the doors. Life was so full of +work for him that it seemed unreasonable to keep him where there was +nothing he could do.</p> + +<p>Captain Langrishe turned up at the dances as unfailingly as Nelly +herself. He came in spite of many resolutions to the contrary, as the +moth comes to singe its wings in the flame of the candle. He did not +make Nelly conspicuous for the Dowager or anyone else to see. Sometimes +he asked her for several dances. Again, he would be merely polite in +asking her for one; and would yield her up coldly to her next partner +and never come to her side again for the rest of the evening. Unlike Sir +Robin, he danced conspicuously well. Nelly had thrilled to a speech of +Robin's: "One cannot despise the art of dancing for a man when a fellow +like that thinks it worth his while to excel in it."</p> + +<p>One night, when the guests had departed, Mrs. Rooke had something to +tell her husband.</p> + +<p>"That little wretch, Nelly Drummond!" she said. "I thought she was as +innocent and candid as a child. Would you believe it that all the time +she has been engaged to that gawky cousin of hers?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Belinda, all what time?"</p> + +<p>"Well, for a lawyer, Cyprian——"</p> + +<p>"I know I'm obtuse, but the law doesn't favour deductions. All what +time?"</p> + +<p>"Why, all the time poor Godfrey's been falling head over ears in love +with her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Rooke whistled. He was fond of his wife's brother.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure, Bel? I noticed particularly that he was dancing with the +wallflowers to-night. He's a good fellow, so that didn't surprise me. +Now you mention it, I caught sight of the little girl dancing with Jack +Menzies. She didn't look particularly happy."</p> + +<p>"She hasn't been looking particularly happy. I have been imagining that +Godfrey's poverty stood between them. He is so impracticable. And I have +been making opportunities for them to meet. After all, she is Sir Denis +Drummond's only child, and is sure to be sufficiently well off. And +here, after all my trouble, I find she is engaged to her cousin. I +wonder what she can see in that ugly stick to prefer him to Godfrey!"</p> + +<p>"She may not prefer him, my dear. It may be a marriage of convenience. +And Drummond is not a stick. That is your feminine prejudice. He is a +very clever fellow, although he has got the Socialistic bee in his +bonnet. However, he's young, and has time to mend his ways."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to discuss him. How coldblooded you are, Cyprian! I can +only think of my poor Godfrey going off to the ends of the earth, and +his being deceived and hurt by that heartless girl."</p> + +<p>"You will let him know?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly shall. He ought to know. It may be the quickest way to make +him forget her."</p> + +<p>"Since he seems to have made up his mind to go away without speaking to +her, I can't see that any great harm has been done," Mr. Rooke said, +with his masculine common-sense.</p> + +<p>"I shall never forgive her," Mrs. Rooke retorted, with true feminine +inconsequence.</p> + +<p>She took an early opportunity of telling her brother what the Dowager +had told her. The occasion was in her own drawing-room at the +afternoon-tea hour, and, since the room was only lit by firelight and a +tall standard lamp, his face, where he stood by the mantel-shelf, was in +shadow. There had been something portentous in the manner of the +telling.</p> + +<p>For a few seconds he kept silence. Then he spoke very quietly.</p> + +<p>"I hope Miss Drummond may be happy," he said. He did not trouble to put +on a pretence of indifference with Bel, just as he did not wish to talk +about it. He went on to speak of ordinary topics. That evening he stayed +to dinner. He had only a week more in England. Under the electric light +at the dinner-table his haggardness was revealed.</p> + +<p>"For once," said Cyprian Rooke afterwards, "your discovery wasn't a +mare's nest, my dear Bel. Godfrey looks hard hit."</p> + +<p>The week turned round quietly. Nelly had not heard definitely the date +of Captain Langrishe's departure. For six days she kept away from the +Rookes' house. On that last evening he had been icily cold. The poor +girl was in torture. All the week she was calling pride to her aid. The +sixth day it refused to bolster her up any longer. The sixth day she met +at lunch a friend of hers and Belinda Rooke's. She asked a question +about the Rookes with averted eyes.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl," said the friend; "she is in grief over Godfrey Langrishe. +He sails to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The rest of that luncheon-party was a phantasmagoria of faces and voices +to poor Nelly. He was going, and she would never see him again, although +he had shown her by a thousand infallible signs that he loved her. +Despite his occasional coldness, she was sure he loved her. Her pride +was down with a vengeance. She felt nothing at the moment but a desire +to see him before he should go—just to see him, to see the lighting up +of his gloomy eyes, as they had lit up on seeing her suddenly before he +could get his face under control. After that one meeting, the deluge! +But she must see him—she must see him for the last time.</p> + +<p>The kindly hostess insisted on her going home in a cab. When she had +been driven some distance, Nelly pushed up the little trapdoor of the +hansom and gave another address than Sherwood Square.</p> + +<p>Having done it, she felt happier. However it ended, she was making a +last attempt to see him. She could not have endured a passive +acquiescence in her destiny, whatever was to be the end of it.</p> + +<p>The luncheon-party had been prolonged, and the gas-lamps in the streets +were lit. It was the close of the short winter's day. Night came +prematurely between the high Bayswater houses. It was almost dark when +she stood at last on Mrs. Rooke's doorstep, asking herself what she +should do if Mrs. Rooke was away from home.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rooke was out, as it happened, but the maid-servant, who knew +Nelly, and, like all servants, had been captivated by her pleasant, +friendly ways, invited her in to await the lady's return. Mrs. Rooke was +expected back to tea. With a smile on her lips she held the drawing-room +door open for Nelly to enter.</p> + +<p>Nelly passed through. There was a big French screen by the door. She had +passed beyond it and out into the warm firelit room before she realised +that there was another occupant. Someone stood up from the couch by the +fireplace as she came towards it. Fate had been on her side for once. +The person was Captain Langrishe.</p> + +<p>"My sister will not be very long, Miss Drummond," he began, in a tone he +tried in vain to make indifferent. "I hope you won't mind waiting in my +company."</p> + +<p>Mind waiting, indeed! To Nelly, as to himself, the seconds were precious +ones. Mrs. Rooke was shopping on that particular afternoon. It was a +kind fate that made it so difficult for her to find just the things she +wanted, that sent half-a-dozen acquaintances and friends in her way.</p> + +<p>He took Nelly's hand in his. It was quite cold and clammy, although it +had come out of a satin-lined muff. The hand trembled.</p> + +<p>"I heard you were going to-morrow," she said. "I'm so glad I am in time +to wish you <i>bon voyage</i>."</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down?"</p> + +<p>He set a chair for her in front of the fire. The flames lit up her +golden hair, and revealed her charming face in its becoming setting of +the sables she wore. He sat in his obscure corner, watching her with +moody eyes. He said to himself that he would never see her again, yet he +laboured to make ordinary everyday talk. He asked after the General, and +regretted that the hurry of these latter days had prevented his calling +at Sherwood Square.</p> + +<p>"We miss you at the head of the squadron," said Nelly, innocently. "It +isn't the same thing now that there is a stranger."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" A flame leaped into his eyes. He leant forward a little. "That +reminds me I ought not to go without making a confession." He was taking +a pocket-book from his breastpocket. He opened it, and held it under +Nelly's eyes. There was a piece of blue ribbon there. She recognised it +with a great leap of her heart. It was her own ribbon which she had lost +that spring day as she stood on the balcony looking down at the +soldiers.</p> + +<p>"You recognise it? It was yours. The wind blew it down close to my hand. +I caught it. I have kept it ever since. May I keep it still? It can do +no harm to anybody, my having it—may I keep it?"</p> + +<p>She answered something under her breath, which he construed to be "Yes." +She had been feeling the cruelty of it all, that their last hour +together should be taken up by talking of commonplaces. At the sudden +change in his tone—although it was unhappy, there was passion in it, +and the chill seemed to pass away from her heart—the tears filled her +eyes, overflowed them, ran warmly down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>At the sight of those tears the young man forgot everything, except that +she was lovely and he loved her and she was crying for him. He leaped to +her side and dropped on his knees. He put both his arms about her and +pressed her closely to him.</p> + +<p>"Are you crying because I am going, my darling?" he said. "Good heavens! +don't cry—I'm not worth it. And yet I shall remember, when the world is +between us, that you cried because I was going, you angel of mercy."</p> + +<p>An older woman than Nelly might have had the presence of mind to ask him +why he was going. But she was silent. She felt it over-whelmingly sweet +to be held so, to feel his hand smoothing her hair. The bunch of lilies +of the valley she had been wearing was crushed between his breast and +her breast. The sweetness of them rose up as something exquisite and +forlorn. His hand moved tremblingly over her hair to her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Give me a kiss, Nelly," he said, "and I will go. Just one kiss. I shall +never have another in all my days. Good-bye, my heart's delight."</p> + +<p>For a second their lips clung together. Then his arms relaxed. He put +her down gently into a chair. She lay back with closed eyes. She heard +the door shut behind her. Then she sprang to her feet, realising that he +was gone and it was too late to recall him.</p> + +<p>Why should he go? she asked herself, as, with trembling hands, she +arranged the disorder of her hair. Then the merely conventional came in, +as it will even at such tense moments. She asked herself how she would +look to his sister, if she appeared at this moment; to the maid, who +might be expected at any moment bringing in the lamp. The room was dark +but for the firelight. How would she look, with her tear-stained visage +and the disorder of her appearance? She could not sit and make small +talk. That was a heroism beyond her. And she was afraid to speak to +anyone lest she should break down. She adopted a cowardly course. +Afterwards she must explain it to Mrs. Rooke somehow. She put the +consideration of how out of sight: it could wait till the turmoil of her +thoughts was over.</p> + +<p>She stole from the room, let herself out quietly, and was grateful for +the dark and the cool, frosty air. About five minutes after she had gone +Mrs. Rooke came in laden with small parcels.</p> + +<p>"The Captain and Miss Drummond are in the drawing-room, ma'am," said the +maid.</p> + +<p>"Then you can bring tea."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rooke opened the drawing-room door leisurely, turning the handle +once or twice before she did so. She was excited at the thought of the +things that might be happening the other side of the door. Supposing +that Nelly had discovered that life with a poor foot-captain was a more +desirable thing than life with a well-endowed baronet, a coming man in +the political world to boot! Supposing—there was no end to the +suppositions that passed through Mrs. Rooke's busy brain in a few +seconds of time. Then—she entered the room and found emptiness.</p> + +<p>"You are sure that neither the Captain nor Miss Drummond left a +message?" she said to the maid who brought the tea.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure, ma'am. I had no idea they were gone."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose they went away together, Jane?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rooke was ready to accept a crumb of possible comfort from her +handmaid.</p> + +<p>"I do remember now, ma'am, that when I was pulling down the blind +upstairs I heard the hall-door shut twice. I never thought of looking in +the drawing-room, ma'am. I made sure that the noise of the blinds had +deceived me into taking next-door for ours."</p> + +<p>"Ah, thank you, Jane, that will do."</p> + +<p>The omens were not at all propitious. Mrs. Rooke was fain to acknowledge +as much to herself dejectedly. Nor did Cyprian think them propitious +when taken into counsel. When she went downstairs, she found that her +brother had come in. He was to spend the last evening at his sister's +house.</p> + +<p>Captain Langrishe's face, however, did not invite questions. He made no +allusion at all to the happenings of the afternoon, and his sister felt +that she could not ask him. She had a heavy heart for him as she bade +him good-night, although she called something after him with a cheerful +pretence about their rendezvous next morning.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> nine-thirty at Fenchurch Street, isn't it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Do you think you will ever manage it, Bel?" Captain Langrishe smiled at +her haggardly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, easily—by staying up all night," she answered.</p> + +<p>But her heart was as heavy as lead for him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE GENERAL HAS AN IDEA</h3> + + +<p>When Sir Denis came home from his club that evening he learned that Miss +Nelly had gone to bed with a headache.</p> + +<p>Pat, who told him, looked away as he gave the information, as though he +did not believe in his own words. Miss Nelly with a headache! Why, God +bless her, she had never had such a thing, not from the day she was +born! To be sure, the whole affectionate household knew that there was +some cloud over Miss Nelly. They didn't talk much about it. Pat and +Bridget knew better than to have the servants' hall gossiping over the +master and Miss Nelly. A new under-housemaid, who was greatly addicted +to the reading of penny novelettes, suggested that Miss Nelly was being +forced into marrying her cousin by the machinations of his mother, who +was not <i>persona grata</i> with the servants' hall. But Pat had nipped the +young person's imaginings in the bud.</p> + +<p>"She may be contrairy enough to give the General the gout in his big toe +and the twisht in his timper, as often she's done. But she can't make +our Miss Nelly marry where she don't like. If you'd put your romantic +notions into your scrubbin' now, Miss Higgs; but I suppose it's your +name is the matter with you, and you can't help it."</p> + +<p>The under-housemaid, whose name happened to be Gladys Higgs, was reduced +to tears by this remark, and the tears brought the kind-hearted Pat to +repentance for his hastiness.</p> + +<p>"Whatever the dickens came over me," he imparted to Bridget when they +were having a snack of bread and cheese between meals in the room +allotted to the cook, who was now also housekeeper, "to go sharpenin' my +tongue on that foolish little girl? It isn't for you an' me to be makin' +fun of their quare names. 'Tis no credit to us if we have elegant names +in the counthry we come from."</p> + +<p>"Aye, indeed. Where would you find pleasanter thin MacGeoghegan or +McGroarty or Magillacuddy? There was a polisman in our town by the name +of McGuffin. I always thought it real pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Sure what would be on the little girl?—'tis Miss Nelly, I mean," said +Pat, in a manner that showed his real anxiety. "She scared me, so she +did, with her nonsense, that Gladys. For it stands to reason that Miss +Nelly wouldn't mind marryin' Sir Robin—isn't he the fittest match for +her?—if it wasn't that there might be someone else. And who could it +be, I ask you, unbeknownst to us that has watched over her from a +babby?"</p> + +<p>"You're a foolish man to be takin' that much notice of that Gladys girl +and her talk. Why shouldn't Miss Nelly have a headache? Why, I remember +the Miss O'Flahertys, Lord Dunshanbo's daughters, when I was a little +girl; and 'twas faintin' on the floor they were every other minute and +everyone havin' to run and cut their stay-laces. They were fifty, too, +if they were a day, so they ought to have had more sense. Why wouldn't +Miss Nelly have Quality ways?"</p> + +<p>"Young ladies aren't like that nowadays," Pat said dolefully. "'Tis the +bicycle and the golf. They've no stay-laces to cut, so they don't go +faintin' away. And Miss Nelly, poor lamb, she'd never be thinkin' of +doing such a thing."</p> + +<p>He went off sorrowfully, shaking his head. The mysteriousness of the +change in Miss Nelly perturbed him the more. He looked away from the +General when he gave the information about the headache.</p> + +<p>"Miss Nelly said, sir," he volunteered, "that she was to be called, +unless she was asleep, when you came home to dinner. Shall I send up +Fanny to call her?"</p> + +<p>"Not for worlds," said the General. "I'll go myself. She mustn't be +disturbed, poor child, if she has a headache."</p> + +<p>He went upstairs softly, pursing out his lips as he went along in +troubled thought. He opened the door of his daughter's room, and spoke +her name in a whisper. There was not a sound.</p> + +<p>"Fast asleep," he said, with a sigh, as he went to his dressing-room to +dress for dinner. That was something he would not have omitted for any +possible calamity that could befall him.</p> + +<p>He ate his dinner in lonely state. Bridget had done her best by way of +expressing her sympathy, but he ate without his usual enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Pat afterwards, "he didn't know but what it was sawdust he +was atin' instead of that beautiful volly-vong of yours. He could barely +touch the mutton, and a beautiful little joint it was. Sure, there's a +sad change come over the house, anyway."</p> + +<p>The General gave orders that Miss Nelly was not to be disturbed again +that night. After dinner he retired to his den and made a pretence of +reading the papers, but his heart wasn't in it. He missed even a speech +of Robin's which would have enraged him in happier times. He sat turning +over the sheets and sighing to himself now and again; only when Pat came +in with a pretence of replenishing the fire—it was Pat's way of showing +his silent sympathy—was the General absorbed in his newspaper. Not that +it imposed on Pat, who mentioned afterwards to Bridget that he didn't +believe the master knew a word of what he was looking at.</p> + +<p>About half-past nine the General relinquished that pretence of reading. +He felt the house to be nearly as sad as though someone were lying dead +in it, and he could support it no longer. He must find out what was the +matter with the child, or at least show her how her old father's heart +bled for her. He got up quietly from his big easy-chair, from which he +had been used to survey his Nelly's face at the other side of the +fireplace for many a happy year. To be sure, it had not been the same +since the Dowager had come, and Nelly had gone gadding of evenings. +Still, she had always come in to kiss him before she went off, looking +radiant and sweet, with the hood of her evening cloak over her bright +head and framing the dearest face in the world. She had always clung to +him with her soft arms about his neck, and he had not minded her absence +since she was enjoying herself as she ought at her age.</p> + +<p>He climbed up the stairs of the high house. Nelly had chosen a bedroom +right at the top, whence she could look away over the London roofs to +the mists that hid the country.</p> + +<p>The blinds were up and the cold winter moon lay on the girl's bed. The +General came in tip-toe, trying to avoid creaking on the bare boards, +which Nelly preferred to carpets. But his precaution was unnecessary. +She was lying wide-awake. The darkness of her eyes in her face, +unnaturally white from the moonlight, frightened him. He had a memory of +Nelly's mother as he had seen her newly-dead, and the memory scared him.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, papa?" Nelly asked, half-lifting herself on her pillow. +"Come and sit down. I was thinking of dressing myself and coming down to +you."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't do that if your headache is not better."</p> + +<p>"It was nothing at all of a headache," she said with a weary little +sigh, "but I must have fallen asleep. If I had not I should have come +down to dinner. I only awoke just before the church clock struck nine. +Were you very lonely?"</p> + +<p>"I am always lonely without you, Nell. You have had nothing to eat, have +you? No. Well, perhaps you'd better come down and have a little meal in +the study by the fire. Unless you'd prefer a fire up here. The room +strikes cold. To be sure, the windows are open. There is snow coming, I +think."</p> + +<p>"I like the cold. I'm not hungry, but I shall get up presently. I +haven't really gone to bed."</p> + +<p>She put out a chilly little hand over her father's, and he took it into +his. When had they wanted anyone but each other? What new love could +ever be as true and tender as his?</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Nelly, burying her face in her pillow. "I'm a wicked girl to +be discontented. I ought to have everything in the world, having you."</p> + +<p>"And when did my Nelly become discontented?" he asked, with a passionate +tenderness. "What has clouded over my girl, the light of the house? What +is it, Nell?"</p> + +<p>He had been both father and mother to her. For a second or two she kept +her face buried, as if she would still hold her secret from him. His +hand brushed the pale ripples of her hair, as another hand had brushed +them a short time back. He expected her to answer him, and he was +waiting.</p> + +<p>"It is Captain Langrishe," she whispered at last. "His boat goes from +Tilbury to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"From Tilbury." The General remembered that Grogan of the Artillery, the +club bore, had a daughter and son-in-law sailing from Tilbury next +morning, and had suggested his accompanying him to the docks. "Why he +should have asked me," the General had said irritably, "when I can +barely endure him for half-an-hour, is more than I can imagine!"</p> + +<p>"What is wrong between you and Langrishe, Nell?" he asked softly. "I +thought he was a good fellow. I know he's a good soldier; and a good +soldier must be a good fellow. Has anyone been making mischief?"</p> + +<p>He sent a sudden wrathful thought towards the Dowager. Who else was so +likely to make mischief? The thought that someone had been making +mischief was almost hopeful, since mischief done could be undone if one +only set about it rightly.</p> + +<p>"No one," Nelly answered mournfully.</p> + +<p>The General suddenly stiffened. His one explanation of Langrishe's pride +standing in the way was forgotten; it was not reason enough. Was it +possible that Langrishe had been playing fast-and-loose with his girl? +Was it possible—this was more incredible still—that he did not return +her innocent passion? For a few seconds he did not speak. His +indignation was ebbing into a dull acquiescence. If Langrishe did not +care—why, no one on earth could make him care. No one could blame him +even.</p> + +<p>"You must give up thinking of him, Nell," he said at last. He could not +bring himself to ask her if Langrishe cared. "You must forget him, +little girl, and try to be satisfied with your old father till someone +more worthy comes along."</p> + +<p>"But he is worthy." Nelly spoke with a sudden flash of spirit. "And he +cares so much. I always felt he cared. But I never knew how much till we +met at his sister's this afternoon and he bade me good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Then why is he going?" the General asked, with pardonable amazement.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," Nelly answered irritably. She had never been +irritable in all her sunny life. "But although he is gone I am happier +than I have been for a long time since I know he cares so much."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what,"—the General got up quite briskly—"dress +yourself, Nell, and come down to the study, and we'll talk things over. +You may be sure, little girl, that your old father will leave no stone +unturned to secure your happiness. I'll ring for your dinner to be +brought up on a tray and we'll have a happy evening together. And you'd +better have a fire here, Nell. It's a very pretty room, my dear, with +all your pretty fal-lals, but it strikes me as being very chilly."</p> + +<p>He went downstairs and rang the bell for Miss Nelly's dinner. The fire +had been stoked in his absence, and was now burning gloriously.</p> + +<p>He drew Nelly's chair closer to it and a screen around the chair. He put +a cushion for her back, and a hassock for her feet. The little acts were +each an eloquent expression of his love for her. He was suddenly, +irrationally hopeful. He reproached himself because he had done so +little. He had thought he was doing a great deal when he, an old man and +so high in his profession, had made advances to the young fellow for his +girl's sake. To be sure, he had been certain that Langrishe was in love +with Nell, else the thing had not been possible. Now that his love was +beyond doubt the old idea recurred to him. It must be some chivalrous, +overstrained scruple about his poverty which came between poor Nell and +her happiness. Standing by the fire, waiting for Nelly, he rubbed his +hands together with a return of cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes she came gliding in shyly. That confidence had only +been possible in the dark. The General felt her embarrassment and busied +himself in stirring the fire. Pat came up with the tray—such a dainty +tray, loaded with good things. The General called for a glass of wine +for Miss Nelly. He waited on her with a tender assiduity and she forced +herself to eat, saying to herself with passionate gratitude that she +would be a brute if she did not swallow to please him.</p> + +<p>The wine brought a colour to her cheeks. She watched her father with shy +eyes. What could he do to bring her and her lover together, seeing that +it was Captain Langrishe's last night in England and that he would not +return for five years? Five years spread out an eternity to Nelly's +youthful gaze. She might be dead before five years were over. This +afternoon she had felt no great desire to live, but that despair, of +course, was wrong. She had not remembered at the moment how dear she and +her father were to each other. As long as they were together there must +be compensations for anything in life.</p> + +<p>She had expected her father to speak, but he did not. While he had been +standing by the fire awaiting her coming he had had qualms. Supposing +she had made a mistake about the young fellow's feeling for her. Such +things happened with girls sometimes. Supposing—no, it was better to +keep silence for the present. If things turned out well, it would be +time enough to tell Nelly. If things turned out well! What, after all, +were five years? To the General, for whom the wheel of the days and the +years had been turning giddily fast and ever faster these many years +back, five years counted for little. He had a hale, hearty old life. +Surely the Lord in His goodness would permit him to look on Nelly's +happiness and his grandchildren! It was another thing to think of +Nelly's children when the match was not of the Dowager's making.</p> + +<p>He inspired Nelly with something of his own hopefulness. She saw that he +had some design which she was not to share. Well, she could trust his +love to move mountains for her happiness. The evening was far better +than she could have hoped for, and she went to bed comforted.</p> + +<p>"Early breakfast, Nell," he said as they parted. "I've ordered it for +eight o'clock. But I shan't expect to see you unless you feel like it. +These cold mornings it's allowable to be a little lazy."</p> + +<p>This from the General, who rose at half-past six all the year round and +had his cold bath even when he had to break the ice on it. Nelly's +laziness, too, was a matter of recent date. She had always loved the +winter and had seemed to glow the fresher the colder the weather.</p> + +<p>The General thought of himself as an arch-diplomatist, but he was +transparent enough to his daughter.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't want me at breakfast," she said to herself. "He doesn't want +me to ask questions. So I shall save him embarrassment by not +appearing."</p> + +<p>The next morning there was no General to see the squadron of the old +regiment gallop past. No family prayers either. What were things coming +to? the servants asked each other. And second breakfast at nine for Miss +Nelly!</p> + +<p>"Take my word for it," said Bridget to Pat, "the next thing'll be Miss +Nelly havin' her breakfast in bed like Lord Dunshanbo's daughters. Five +of them there was, Pat, all old maids. And they used to sit round in +their beds, every one with a satin quilt, and their hair in curl-papers, +and a newspaper spread out to save the quilt."</p> + +<p>"'Tis too early and too cowld," said Pat, interrupting this +reminiscence, "for the master to be goin' out. And he doesn't like bein' +put out of his habits, not by the half of a second. I used to think +before I was a soldier that punctuality was the most onnecessary thing +on earth, but I've come to like it somehow."</p> + +<p>"The same here," said Bridget, "though it wasn't in my blood. I wondher +what they'd think of us at home?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE LEADING AND THE LIGHT</h3> + + +<p>The General was at Fenchurch Street by half-past nine. He rather +expected to see old Grogan on the platform, and was not sure whether he +was relieved or disappointed by his absence. On the one hand, he could +hardly have borne Grogan's twaddle on the journey to Tilbury, his mind +being engrossed as it was. On the other, he looked to him to cover his +presence at the boat.</p> + +<p>Now that he was started on the adventure he was nervously anxious lest +he should compromise his girl by betraying to Langrishe the errand he +was come on, unless, indeed, Langrishe gave him the lead. He was as +sensitive as Nelly herself could have been about offering her where she +was not desired or was likely to be rejected. But he assured himself +that everything would be right. In the sudden surprise of seeing him, +Langrishe would say or do something that would give him a lead. He would +be able to bring back a message of hope to Nelly. Five years—after all, +what were five years? Especially to a girl as young as Nelly. They could +wait very well till Langrishe came home again.</p> + +<p>At the booking-office he was told that the special train for the +<i>Sutlej</i> had just gone. Another train for Tilbury was leaving in five +minutes.</p> + +<p>"You will get in soon after the special," the booking-clerk assured him. +"Plenty of time to see your friends before she sails. Why, she's not due +to sail till twelve o'clock. There'll be a deal of luggage to be got on +board."</p> + +<p>The General unfolded his <i>Standard</i> in the railway carriage, and turned +to the principal page of news. A big headline, followed by a number of +smaller ones, caught his eye: "Outrage at Shawur. An English Officer and +Five Sepoys Caught in a Trap. Death of Major Sayers. Regiment Sent in +Pursuit. Statement in the House."</p> + +<p>The General bent his brows over the report. He had known poor Sayers—a +most distinguished soldier, but brave to rashness. And the Wazees tribe, +treacherous rascals! The General had some experience of them too. Ah, so +Mordaunt was sent in pursuit. The tribe had retired after the murder to +its fastnesses in the hills. He remembered those fortified towers in the +hill valleys. He had had to smoke them out once like rats in a hole. Ah, +poor Sayers! The brutes! And Sayers had a young wife!</p> + +<p>He lifted his head from the paper, and stared out of the carriage +windows, where tiny cottages, with neat white stones for their garden +borders, showed that the train was passing through a residential +district much affected by retired sailor-men. The mast of a ship seemed +to be a favourite ornament, and a little flag was hoisted on many lawns. +Flakes of dry snow came in the wind, but, cold as it was, a good many of +the old sailors were out pottering about their tiny gardens. Here a +glimpse of the river, or a church spire with many graves nestled under +it, came to break the monotony of the little houses.</p> + +<p>The General looked without seeing. He was thinking of Sayers' young +wife—to be sure, she was not so young now: she must be well over +thirty—an innocent-faced creature, sitting at the piano in a white +gown, singing, while he and poor Sayers paced the garden-walk in the +twilight. Poor woman! how was she to bear it? Those knives, too! The +General ground his teeth in fury.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly another aspect of the matter flashed upon him, so suddenly +that he almost leaped in his seat. Why, the —th Madras Light +Infantry—he remembered now—it was Langrishe's regiment. How +extraordinary that he should not have remembered before! It was the +regiment sent in pursuit. Langrishe would fall in for some fighting—he +would find it ready-made to his hand. Those little frontier wars were +endless things once they started. And what toll they took of precious +human lives! In the last one more young fellows of the General's +acquaintance had been killed than he liked to remember. Such deaths, +too! Even the bravest soldier might well shrink from the fiendish things +the Wazees were capable of.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the train pulled up abruptly, so abruptly that for a few +seconds it quivered as a horse will after being hard-driven. The General +went to the window and looked out. The houses had been left behind and +around them was a country of grey mud-flats with the river dragging its +sluggish length through it like a great serpent. There was a windmill on +the horizon, breaking the uniform grey of land and river and sky. The +sky was heavy with coming snow.</p> + +<p>The guard of the train was standing on the line, beating his two arms +against his breast to warm them, and answering stolidly the impatient +questions of the passengers.</p> + +<p>"Obstruction on the line in front, sir," he said, addressing nobody in +particular. "Waggon broke away from the siding and got on to our track. +There's a breakdown gang doing its level best to get us clear. How long? +Can't say, I'm sure, sir. Matter of half an hour, maybe."</p> + +<p>The matter of half an hour became a matter of three-quarters, of an +hour, of an hour and a quarter. The train grumbled from end to end. Here +and there a particularly indignant passenger got out with the expressed +intention of walking to his destination. The officials bore it all +patiently. It was no fault of theirs. The breakdown gang, was doing its +best. It was a very lucky thing the runaway had been discovered just +before the train came round the corner. The train for the <i>Sutlej</i> must +have had a narrow shave of meeting it.</p> + +<p>The General sat in his compartment, which he had to himself, with his +watch in his hand. He was thinking of Sayers and Sayers' young wife. +Mordaunt was not married, but he had an old mother at home in England. +It was bad enough for the men, the brave fellows. But that women should +have to suffer such things through their love was intolerable.</p> + +<p>The cold intensified. Philosophical passengers either wrapped themselves +in their rugs or got out and walked up and down, stamping their feet, +their hands in their coat-pockets. The General sat, quiet as a Fate, +staring at his watch. His thoughts were tending towards a certain +conclusion.</p> + +<p>At first he had been merely impatient for the train to get on. As time +passed he became more impatient as it was borne in on him that he might +possibly be too late for the <i>Sutlej</i>. He might lose the chance of +looking in Langrishe's eyes and getting the lead he desired so that he +might say the words which would bring happiness to his Nelly. Still the +time went on. His moustache became little icicles. If anyone had been +looking at him they might have thought that he suggested being frozen +himself, so stiff and grey was he. They were within a few miles of +Tilbury. It was now half-past eleven. The <i>Sutlej</i> was to sail at +twelve. Was there any chance of his being there in time? The guard had +said half an hour! If he had not, the General might have walked with +those other impatient passengers.</p> + +<p>But if the General was a religious man—nay, rather because he was a +religious man—he looked for signs and portents from God for the +direction of his everyday life. He believed that God, amid all His +whirling world of stars and all His ages, had leisure to attend to every +unit of a life upon earth. He believed in special Providences. +Everything that was dear to him or near to his heart he commended to God +in his prayers. He had prayed for direction and guidance in this matter +of his girl and young Langrishe. He had thought to do his best. Well, +was not the breakdown of the train a sign that his best was not God's +best?</p> + +<p>At ten minutes to twelve the track was free, and the train resumed its +journey. It was now one chance in a thousand that the General would not +be too late. If that chance came, if he saw Langrishe he would take it +as a sign that God approved his first intention. If the <i>Sutlej</i> had +sailed—well, that, too, was the leading and the light.</p> + +<p>As they ran into Tilbury Station a train was standing at the departure +platform. The General beckoned to a porter.</p> + +<p>"Do you know if the <i>Sutlej</i> has sailed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—sailed at ten minutes to twelve. Might catch her at +Southampton, sir, perhaps. There's a good many people as well as you +disappointed in this 'ere train. There's another train back in three +minutes."</p> + +<p>"When is the next train?"</p> + +<p>"Three hours' time."</p> + +<p>The General went to the door of the carriage and looked out; then +retired hastily. He had caught sight of Grogan and Mrs. Grogan and a +number of boys and girls of all ages. Not for worlds would he have let +Grogan see him. The amazement at seeing him, the questions about his +presence there, Grogan's laugh, Grogan's slap on the back, would be more +than the General could bear at this moment.</p> + +<p>"I shall wait for the next train," he said to the astonished porter. The +porter had not thought of Tilbury as a place where the casual visitor +desired to wait for three hours.</p> + +<p>The General remained in the train till the other had steamed out of the +station. When all danger was over he alighted and walked to the hotel of +many partings. He ordered his lunch, a chop and a vegetable, biscuits +and cheese. While his chop was cooking he would stretch his legs, +cramped by that long time in the train.</p> + +<p>He walked along the docks, dodging lorries and waggons, getting out at +the side of a basin, with a clear walk along its edge. It was empty—the +<i>Sutlej</i> had left it only three-quarters of an hour ago. He paced up and +down by the grey water, lost in thought.</p> + +<p>The <i>Sutlej</i> had sailed, ten minutes before the time anticipated. God +had given him the sign. He had turned him from his presumptuous attempt +to be Providence to his Nelly. The General never had been, never could +be, passive. He was made for the activities of life. Yet his religious +ideal was passivity—to be in the hands of God expecting, accepting, His +Will for all things. It was an ideal he had never attained to, and it +was, perhaps, therefore the dearer.</p> + +<p>He was oblivious of the cold, of the creeping water, of the thickening +flakes in the air which nearly blotted out the silent ship the other +side of the basin. He saw nothing but the pointing Finger, the Finger +that pointed away from the course he had marked out for himself. He felt +uplifted, glad, as one who has escaped a great peril. Was his Nelly to +suffer the torture of an engagement to a man who would presently be +every hour in danger of a horrible death? Was she, poor child, to suffer +like Mrs. Sayers? like poor old Mrs. Mordaunt? No. She must be saved +from the possibility of that.</p> + +<p>He would say nothing. He would have to endure the looks she would send +him from under her white eyelids, the looks of wistful entreaty. After +all, he had not <i>said</i> he was going to do anything. He had implied it, +to be sure, but he had not committed himself to anything very definite. +Perhaps Nelly would not discover, for a time at least, the dangerous +service Langrishe had gone on. She was no more fond of the newspapers +than any other young girl. For the moment he was grateful to the Dowager +that she claimed so much of Nelly's time.</p> + +<p>He began to look forward with a fearful anticipation to Nelly's marriage +to her cousin. Something must be settled at once, before she could begin +to grieve over Langrishe. He would be alone, of course, but Nelly would +be in harbour. He did so much justice to Robin that he believed her +happiness would be safe with him. He felt as if he must go home and put +matters in train at once. He was impatient till Nelly was safe. It did +not occur to him that he was, perhaps, once more wresting the conduct of +his daughter's happiness from the Hand in Whose guidance he humbly +trusted.</p> + +<p>He awoke with a start to the fact that he had been more than half an +hour pacing along by the water's edge. He hurried back to the hotel. +Fortunately, his chop was not put on the grill till he returned, and it +was served to him piping hot, with tomatoes and a bottle of Burton. +Rather to his amazement, he enjoyed it thoroughly, but when he had +finished it he had still more than an hour to wait.</p> + +<p>He drove across country to another station, and arrived home early in +the afternoon. During the return journey his mind was quite calm and +unperturbed. He had had the guidance he needed, and now he had only to +let things be—as though it were in his character to let things be!</p> + +<p>He dreaded meeting Nelly's eyes and welcomed the Dowager's presence with +effusion. He suggested to the lady that she should dine, and afterwards +they would visit a theatre—<i>A Soldier's Love</i> at the Adelphi was well +worth seeing, he believed. Lady Drummond accepted, flattered by this +unwonted friendliness. He would hardly let her out of his sight all that +afternoon. She was his safeguard against Nelly's wondering, reproachful +eyes.</p> + +<p>He had to endure those eyes all the next day. Then—the eyes retired in +on themselves, became introspective. It was hardly easier for the +General, that look of a suffering woman in his Nelly's eyes.</p> + +<p>To be sure, poor Nelly had known of that journey to Tilbury just as well +as if she had accompanied him. The only thing she did not know was that +he had failed to see Captain Langrishe. And his silence—the looks of +tender pity he sent her when he thought he was unobserved, what could +they mean but that his mediation had been in vain? For some strange, +cruel reason, although he loved her and he must know he was breaking her +heart, her lover would have none of her. Even the knowledge that he +loved her ceased to be an anodyne in those days.</p> + +<p>Everyone was so good to her. She seemed to have found a way to the +Dowager's arid heart, as her own son had not. The Dowager seemed dimly +aware that Nelly was suffering in some way, and was tender to her. She +came to the General with a proposal. Why should they not all go abroad +together and escape the east winds of spring? The General leaped at it. +Once get Nelly abroad and she would know nothing of what was happening +on the Indian frontier. He, and Nelly and the Dowager. He had not +imagined the Dowager in such a party—yet, he shrank from the prolonged +<i>tête-à-tête</i> with Nell which the trip would have been without the +Dowager's presence. Robin would join them at Easter. They could all +travel home together.</p> + +<p>There was a time of bustle when Nelly and the Dowager were getting their +travelling outfits. A spark of excitement, of anticipation, lit up +Nelly's sad eyes. The General could have hugged the Dowager.</p> + +<p>"Your dear father," the Dowager said to Nelly one day, "how calm he +grows as he turns round to old age! I see in him more and more the +brother my dear Gerald looked up to and reverenced."</p> + +<p>The peacefulness, the good understanding, had their effect, too, on +Nelly. It was good that those she loved should dwell together in amity. +She was in that state that she could not have endured sharpness or +rancour.</p> + +<p>Only Pat shook his head disapprovingly.</p> + +<p>"If he goes on like this," he said, "he'll be goin' to Heaven before his +time. I'd a deal sooner hear him grumblin' about her Ladyship as he used +to do. It 'ud be more natural-like, so it would. Why would we be callin' +him 'Old Blood and Thunder' if 'twas to be like an image he was? Och, +the ould times were ever the best!"</p> + +<p>"He'll come to himself yet," said Bridget more hopefully.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>A NIGHT OF SPRING</h3> + + +<p>The room was a long bare one, with three deep windows. They were all +open so that the fog and the noises of the street came in freely. It had +for furniture a long office table, an American desk, several +cupboards—the door of one of these last stood open, revealing lettered +pigeon-holes inside. Everywhere there were files, letter-baskets, all +manner of receptacles for papers. There were a number of hard, painted +chairs. An American clock ticked on the mantel-shelf, a fire burned in +the grate behind a high wire screen. The unshaded gas-lights gave the +room a dreary aspect it need not have had otherwise.</p> + +<p>The only occupant of the room was Mary Gray, who sat at a small table +working a typewriter. She had pulled a gas-jet down low over her head, +and the light of it was on her hair, bringing out bronze lights in it, +on her neck, showing its whiteness and roundness. The machine clicked +away busily. Sheet after sheet was pulled from it and dropped into a +basket. The basket was half-filled with the pile of papers that had +fallen into it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there came a little tap at the door. Mary raised her head and +looked towards it expectantly as she said, "Come in."</p> + +<p>Someone came in, someone whom she had expected to see, although she had +said to herself that she supposed the caretaker of the building had +grown tired of waiting, and was coming to remind her that the church +clock had just struck seven.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Sir Robin," she said, turning about to shake hands with him. "Who +would have thought of seeing you? I am just going home."</p> + +<p>"As I came past this way I looked up and saw your light through the fog. +I thought you would be going home, and that you would let me escort you +to your own door. There is a bit of a fog really."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you did not come out of your way. Thank you. I shall be ready +in a few minutes. You don't mind waiting?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. May I smoke?"</p> + +<p>"Do. It will be pleasanter than the smell of the fog."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I hadn't noticed the smell. I have a delusion, or do I really +smell—violets?"</p> + +<p>"There are some violets by your elbow. I was wearing them, but they +drooped, so I put them into water to revive them."</p> + +<p>She turned back again to her work, and the clicking of the machine began +anew. He leant to inhale the smell of the violets. Then, with a glance +at her bent head, he drew one from the bunch, and, taking a pocket-book +out of his coat-pocket, he opened it, and laid the violet between two of +its pages.</p> + +<p>While he waited he looked about him. The ugliness of the room did not +affect him. The flaring gas, the business-like furniture, the unhomely +aspect of the place, did not depress him. On the contrary, in his eyes +it was pleasant. He always came to it with a sensation of happiness, +which was not lessened because he felt half-guilty about it. To him the +room was the room which for certain hours of every day contained Mary +Gray. What did it matter if the case was unlovely since it held her?</p> + +<p>Presently the clicking of the machine ceased, and she looked up at him +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"You are very good to wait for me," she said.</p> + +<p>"Am I?" he answered, smiling back at her. "There is not very much to do +to-day. The House is not sitting, and my constituency has been less +exacting than usual."</p> + +<p>She put the cover on her machine, locked up her desk, and then retired +into a corner, where she changed her shoes, putting her slippers away +tidily in a cupboard. She put on her hat, setting it straight before a +little glass that hung in one corner. She got into her little blue +jacket, with its neat collar and cuffs of astrachan. Then she came to +him, drawing on her gloves.</p> + +<p>"I am quite ready now," she said.</p> + +<p>They lowered the gas, and went down the stone steps side by side. At the +foot of the stairs Mary stopped to call into the depths of the back +premises that she was going home, and a woman's voice bade her +good-night.</p> + +<p>It was cold in the street, and there was a light brown fog through which +the street lamps shone yellowly.</p> + +<p>The omnibuses crept by quietly, in a long string, making a muffled sound +in the fog. As they went towards the nearest station a wind suddenly +blew in their faces.</p> + +<p>"It is the west wind," she said. "And it breathes of the spring."</p> + +<p>"There will be no fog to-night," he answered. "See, it is lifting. The +west wind will blow it away."</p> + +<p>"It comes from fields and woods and mountains and the sea," she said +dreamily.</p> + +<p>The fog was indeed disappearing. The gas-jets shone more clearly; the +'buses broke into a decorous trot. The long line of lights came out +suddenly, crossing each other like a string of many-coloured gems.</p> + +<p>Outside the Tube station they paused as though the same thought had +struck both of them.</p> + +<p>"It is like the washing of the week before last," Mary said, as the +indescribable odour floated out to them.</p> + +<p>"Why not take a 'bus?" said he. "The air grows more delicious."</p> + +<p>"Why not, indeed?" she answered. "Except that I shall be so late getting +home. And it will keep you late for your dinner."</p> + +<p>"So it will," he said. "To say nothing of your dinner. I know you had +only sandwiches and tea for lunch. You have told me that when you go +home you make yourself a chafing-dish supper. You must need a meal at +this moment. Supposing—Miss Gray, will you do me the honour of dining +with me?"</p> + +<p>"Will you let me pay for my dinner? I am a working-woman, and expect to +be treated like a man."</p> + +<p>"If you insist. But I hope you will not insist."</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a moment hesitatingly. There was no prudery about +Mary Gray. She had become a woman of the world, and she had had no +reason to distrust the <i>camaraderie</i> of men or to think it less than +honest.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," she said, "if you will let me pay for your lunch +another time."</p> + +<p>"Why, so you shall," he answered. For a usually grave young man he +laughed with an uncommon joyousness. "You shall give me one day a French +lunch with a bottle of wine thrown in at one-and-sixpence. Mind, I must +have the wine."</p> + +<p>"You shall have the wine. But it isn't good form to talk about the price +of a lunch you are invited to."</p> + +<p>Laughing light-heartedly, they plunged into a labyrinth of dark streets. +The west wind had brought a gentle rain with it now. It was benignant +upon their faces, with a suggestion of grasses and spring flowers +pushing their heads above the earth. They passed by the Soho +restaurants, crowded to the doors. They found one at last in a more +pretentious street.</p> + +<p>Over the dinner they laughed and talked. There was something +intoxicating to Robin Drummond's somewhat phlegmatic nature in their +being together after this friendly fashion.</p> + +<p>"You have a crease in your forehead, just above your nose," he said, +while they waited for their salmon, the waiter having removed the plates +from which they had eaten their <i>bisque</i>. "Have the Working Women been +more unsatisfactory than usual to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of the Working Women," she answered. "It is family +cares that are on my mind. Supposing you had seven young brothers and +sisters whom you wanted to help to place out in the world——"</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid! It's no wonder you look worried. What do you want to do +for them, Miss Gray?"</p> + +<p>"There's Jim. He's seventeen years old. I think he'd make a very good +bank-clerk, but at present he wants to go to sea. There isn't the +remotest chance of his being able to go to sea. The question is whether +he can get a nomination to a bank. It will be quite a step in the social +scale if we can manage it for Jim."</p> + +<p>She looked at Drummond with her frank, direct gaze, and he blushed +awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything at all about your people, or anything of that +sort, Miss Gray, but if I could help——"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you could help." Mary's big mysterious eyes under their +dark lashes, under their beautiful brows, looked at him reflectively. +"You see, you don't know anything about us. I am the eldest of a large +family. The others are my stepbrothers and sisters. I love them dearly, +and I love my stepmother, too. But not like my father—oh, not at all +like my father. I would never have left him only he sent me away. Lady +Agatha was very good to me. She paid me a disproportionate salary. And +besides—after I had been away from them for a time they could really do +very well without me. Cis and Minnie grew up so fast. To be sure, none +of them make up to father for me. But he was really anxious that I +should go. He thought I would be cramped at home, after——" She paused, +and then went on: "He would never think of himself when it was a +question of me."</p> + +<p>What she was saying did not greatly enlighten him. But, without a doubt, +something would come out of the desultory talk by-and-by.</p> + +<p>As he watched her in the light of the electric candle-lamps on the +table, which, sending their shaded light upwards reflected from the +white cloth, made her face luminous in the shadow of her cloudy hair, he +was struck again by a baffling resemblance to someone he had known. Now +and again during the months since they had known each other her face had +seemed familiar; then the likeness had disappeared; he had forgotten to +be curious about it. At this moment the suggestion was very strong.</p> + +<p>They had the top of the 'bus to themselves as they went on westward. At +this hour the traffic was eastward, and the mist of rain saved them from +fellow-travellers. They were as much alone as though they were in a +desert, up there in the darkness at the back of the bus, with the long +line of blurred jewels that were the street lamps stretching away before +them.</p> + +<p>They passed close to the trees overhanging a square, and the branches +brushed them.</p> + +<p>"The sap is stirring in the trees to-night," she said. "Can't you smell +the sap and the earth?"</p> + +<p>"I associate you with the country and green things," he answered +irrelevantly. "Can you tell me, Miss Gray, how it is that I who have +always seen you in London yet always think of you in fields and woods?"</p> + +<p>She laughed with a fresh sound of mirth.</p> + +<p>"We met long ago, Sir Robin," she said. "I have always been wondering +how long it would be before you found out."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Think!"</p> + +<p>A sudden light broke over him.</p> + +<p>"You were the little girl who came with old Lady Anne Hamilton to the +Court. It is nine years ago. I never knew your name. Lady Anne died one +Long Vacation when I was abroad. I did not hear of it for a long time +afterwards. I asked my mother once if she knew what had become of you, +but she did not. Why, to be sure, you are that little girl."</p> + +<p>"Lady Anne was very good to me. She gave me an education. Only for her +the thing I am would not be possible. And I mean to be more than that. +Do you know that I am writing a book?"</p> + +<p>"A novel? Poems?"</p> + +<p>"That is what my father's daughter ought to be doing. No—it is a book +on the Economic Conditions of Women's Work."</p> + +<p>"It is sure to be good, <i>citoyenne</i>."</p> + +<p>"I am a revolutionary," she said seriously. "I have learnt so much since +I have been at this work. I have things to tell. Oh, you will see."</p> + +<p>"I remember Lady Anne as the staunchest of Conservatives."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yet she was tolerant of other opinions in her friends. She was +very good to me, dear old Lady Anne."</p> + +<p>"To think I should not have remembered!"</p> + +<p>"I knew you all the time. To be sure, there was your name. I don't think +you ever knew my name. You called me Mary all the afternoon. Do you +remember the puppy you sent me—the Clumber spaniel? He died in +distemper. He had a happy little life. I wept bitter tears over him."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me before?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd leave you to find out."</p> + +<p>"I am a stupid fellow." He leant towards her, and inhaled the scent of +her violets.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I should have guessed it now," he said, "only for the +spring. To think you are Mary!" He lingered over the name.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry about the Clumber. You shall have another when you ask for +it."</p> + +<p>It was a long drive westward. They got down at Kensington Church, and +went up the hill. Close by the Carmelites they turned into a little +alley. The lit doorway of a high building of flats faced them.</p> + +<p>"Now, you must come no farther," she said, turning to him and holding +out her hand.</p> + +<p>"Let me see you to your door," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>"If you will, but it is a climb for nothing."</p> + +<p>"What a barrack you live in!" he said, as they went up the stone steps.</p> + +<p>"It was built for working men originally, but perhaps there is none +hereabouts. It is now chiefly occupied by working women. They are +extremely pleasant and friendly. To be sure, they are West-End working +women. Now, Sir Robin, I must bid you good-bye."</p> + +<p>They were at the very top of the house. The staircase window was wide +open, and the sweet smell of wet earth came in. She had put the +latch-key in the door and opened it—she had turned on the electric +light. Now, as she held out her hand to him in farewell, he caught sight +of the pleasant little room beyond. He had the strongest wish to cross +the threshold on which she was standing; but, of course, it was +impossible.</p> + +<p>"When my cousin comes back from abroad," he said, "I want you to know +each other, Miss Gray. Perhaps you will ask us to tea here."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," she said frankly.</p> + +<p>"You like your quarters?"</p> + +<p>He was oddly reluctant to go.</p> + +<p>"Very much indeed."</p> + +<p>"You are near Heaven."</p> + +<p>"I hear the singing at the Carmelites. I can see the tops of the trees +in Kensington Gardens. To be sure, I ought to live nearer my work. But +these things counterbalance the distance. By the way, do you know that +Mrs. Morres is in town?"</p> + +<p>"I had not heard."</p> + +<p>"She has come up for a week's shopping."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I must call on her. I like her douches of cold water on all our +schemes."</p> + +<p>"So do I."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with a dawning intention in his eyes. Before he could +speak the words that were on his lips the opposite door opened, and a +young woman, wearing an artist's blouse, with close-cropped dark hair +and a frank boyish face, came out.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Gray, do you happen to have any methylated +spirit?"</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Miss Gray."</p> + +<p>He lifted his hat and went down the stairs. On the next landing he +paused and listened with a smile to the conversation overhead. It +appeared that Mary had only enough methylated spirit for a single +occasion.</p> + +<p>"Then you must come to breakfast with me in the morning," said the other +girl. "Can you oblige me with a few slices of bacon?"</p> + +<p>It was the true communistic life.</p> + +<p>He was smiling to himself still as he walked up the hill homewards. +"Winter is over and past, and the spring is come," he murmured to +himself. And to think that a few hours ago the fog was creeping over the +City!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>HALCYON WEATHER</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Morres was looking benignantly, for her, at Sir Robin Drummond.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say I'm pleased to see you," she said. "It's very handsome +of you, too, to give up the affairs of the nation for an old woman like +me. How do you suppose things are getting on without you?"</p> + +<p>"The House is not sitting this afternoon. You know it rises for the +Easter vacation to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"On Thursday I go down to Hazels. I wanted that bad person, Mary Gray, +to come with me. She says she has to work at her book. Did you ever hear +such stuff and nonsense? As though the world can't get on without one +young woman's book. I told her she could do it at Hazels. She says she +couldn't—that she'll have to be out all day long. London will not tempt +her out, she says. Is she to go bending her back and dimming her eyes +while the lambs are at play in the fields and the primroses thick in the +woods?"</p> + +<p>"She's an obstinate person, Mrs. Morres. When she has made up her mind +to do a thing——"</p> + +<p>"Ah! you know her pretty well."</p> + +<p>"We first met about nine years ago."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I had no idea that you were such old friends. I thought you +met first in this house."</p> + +<p>"Lady Anne Hamilton, the old lady who adopted Miss Gray, was my mother's +friend."</p> + +<p>He said nothing about the fact that twelve hours ago he had not known +Mary Gray for the child he had played with for one afternoon, nor of the +long gap between that occasion and their next meeting. Not from any +disingenuousness; but he had a feeling that he liked to keep that +meeting of long ago to himself.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, to be sure you would be interested in Mary. You would know a +good deal about her. Nine years—it is a long time."</p> + +<p>If he had been the most consummate plotter he could not better have +paved the way for the suggestion he was about to make.</p> + +<p>"Put off your return to Hazels till Saturday morning. I want to take you +and Miss Gray into the country for a day on Thursday."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, young man! And wait for the Saturday crowd of holiday-makers! A +nice figure I should be struggling among them."</p> + +<p>"I will be at Victoria to see you off."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't do that." Mrs. Morres turned about with the +inconsequence of her sex. "I've brought one of the maids up with me. She +will take care of me better than most men. She is alarming, this good +Susan, to the people who don't know her. But I thought you were going +abroad?"</p> + +<p>"So I am. Saturday morning will do me very well."</p> + +<p>"How did you know I was in town? No one is supposed to. All the blinds +are down in front and will be till her Ladyship returns."</p> + +<p>"Miss Gray told me. I saw her yesterday."</p> + +<p>She looked at him sharply. His honest, plain face reassured her. A +friendship of nine years, too. What trouble could there possibly arise +after a friendship of nine years? Mary must know that he was all but +engaged to his cousin.</p> + +<p>"Does she approve of the country trip?"</p> + +<p>"I have not asked her. I left that to you to do. She has been shut up in +London all the winter. She needs a breath of country air."</p> + +<p>"So she does. She shows the London winter, though you may not see it. +Very well, you shall take us both into the country on Thursday. Mary +will not dream of refusing me."</p> + +<p>"That is it. She means to spend those six days between Thursday and +Wednesday toiling at her book. I have heard her say that she will spend +Thursday at the British Museum."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense, she shan't! The world will do just as well without +the book. She must come to Hazels on Saturday. You will help me to +persuade her?"</p> + +<p>"I will do my best. How did you leave Hazels?"</p> + +<p>"Lovely. For the rest, a wilderness of despairing dogs. They will +forgive me if I bring back Mary. By the way, what have you got for me to +do on Friday? If you will keep me in town when all the shops are shut! +Not that it matters. I've finished all my shopping. But am I to spend my +Good Friday here, in this room? London streets are no place for a poor +woman on Good Friday."</p> + +<p>"Will you go to church? There is a service at a church near here, with +Bach's Passion music."</p> + +<p>"I should like to, of all things. Afterwards, perhaps, Mary would give +us tea at her eyrie. You and she must dine with me. She is coming this +evening to dinner. Come back to dinner at half-past seven and help me to +persuade her. I can only give you a chop. Some mysterious person in the +lower region cooks for me. She is the plainest of the plain."</p> + +<p>"It will be a banquet, with you."</p> + +<p>Sir Robin was not a young man who paid compliments easily. When he did +pay one it had always an air of sincerity. Mrs. Morres looked pleased. +She was very fond of Robin Drummond.</p> + +<p>When he and Mary met at the door a few hours later he made a jest about +their dining together again so soon, and they laughed about it—to be +sure, that dinner at the restaurant was a secret, something that did not +belong to the conventional life. There was the air of a little +understanding between them when they presented themselves to Mrs. Morres +in the book-room which she used for all purposes of a sitting-room +during her flying visit to town. It was a pleasant room, with book-cases +all round it filled with green glass in a lattice of brass-work. The +books were hidden by the glass, but it reflected every movement of a +bird or a twig or a cloud outside like green waters. The ceiling was +domed like a sky and painted in sunny Italian scenery. It was not dull +in the book-room on the dullest day.</p> + +<p>"Did you come together?" Mrs. Morres asked curiously.</p> + +<p>"I swear we did not," Sir Robin replied, with mock intensity. "I came +from the east, Miss Gray from the west. We met on your doorstep."</p> + +<p>"You looked as if you were enjoying a joke when you came in."</p> + +<p>"There was time for one between the ringing of the bell and the opening +of the door."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you see, the people downstairs are very old."</p> + +<p>Mary allowed herself to be persuaded to the country expedition next day. +The spring had been calling to her, calling to her to come out of London +to the fields. More, she consented to go to Hazels on the Saturday. The +spring had disturbed her with a delicious disturbance. It was no use +trying to be dry-as-dust since the spring had got into her blood. The +book must wait till she came back.</p> + +<p>On Thursday the exodus from town had not yet begun. They left soon after +breakfast. As Mary hurried from her Kensington flat to Paddington +Station she met the church-goers with their prayer-books in their hands. +It was Holy Thursday, to be sure—a day for solemn thought and +thanksgiving. She hoped hers would not be less acceptable because it was +made in the quietness of the fields.</p> + +<p>It was an exquisite day of April—true Holy Week weather, with white +clouds, like lambs straying in the blue pastures of the sky, shepherded +by the south-west wind. The almond trees were in bloom. They had begun +to drop their blossoms on the pavements, making a dust of roses in +London streets. As they went down from Paddington the river-side +orchards and gardens were starred with the blossom of pear and plum. +Everywhere the birds were singing jocundly. The promise of spring a few +days earlier had been nobly fulfilled.</p> + +<p>The sun shone powerfully as they left the country station and went down +a road set with bare hedges on either side. A week ago there had been +frost. Now there was a grateful odour from the millions and millions of +little spear-heads of grass that were pushing above the ground. On the +banks by the side of the road there were primroses and violets, while +there was yet a drift of last week's snow in the sheltered copses.</p> + +<p>They found an inn by the side of the road. To the back of it lay a belt +of woods. In front was a great stretch of cornfield and pasturage. In +the distance a church-spire and yet other woods.</p> + +<p>There was no village in sight. The village was, as a matter of fact, +lying about its green and velvety common just a little way down the +road. The place was full of the singing of the birds, and of another +sound as sweet, the rushing of waters. A little river ran down from the +higher country and passed through the inn-garden, turning a water-wheel +as it went. The picture on the old sign was of a water-wheel. The inn +was called the Water-Wheel.</p> + +<p>"What a name to think upon!" said Mary, with a sigh, "in a torrid London +August! it sounds full of refreshment."</p> + +<p>"Its patrons would no doubt prefer the Beer-Keg," said Mrs. Morres, and +was reproached for being cynical on such a day.</p> + +<p>While they waited for a meal they explored the delightful inn-garden. It +was not Sir Robin's first visit, and he was able to point out to them +the lions of the place. There was the landlord's aviary of canary-birds, +so hardy that they lived in the open air all the year round. There were +the ferrets in a cage. Not far off, in a proximity which must have +profoundly interested the ferrets, there was an enclosure of white +rabbits. There was a wild duck which had been picked up injured in the +leg one cold winter, and had become tame and followed them about now +from place to place. There were a peacock and a peahen, a sty full of +tiny, squeaking black piglets, hives of bees, all manner of pleasant +country things. A lordly St. Bernard, with deep eyes of affection, +followed Sir Robin as a well-remembered friend.</p> + +<p>"Out in the woods," Sir Robin said, "there is a pond which later will be +covered with water-lilies. The nightingales will have begun now. The +wood is a grove of them. The landlord owned up handsomely when I came +here first that 'they dratted things kept one awake at night.' I was +only sorry they did not keep me. But after the first I slept too +soundly."</p> + +<p>"What did you find to do?" Mrs. Morres asked.</p> + +<p>"Fish. There are plenty of trout in the upper reaches of the river."</p> + +<p>They found their lunch of cold roast beef and salad, rhubarb tart and +cream, delicious. The landlord had some good old claret in his cellar +and produced it as though Sir Robin were an honoured guest. They sat to +the meal by an open window. There were wallflowers under the window. In +a bowl on the table were hyacinths and sweet-smelling narcissi.</p> + +<p>After the meal Mrs. Morres was tired. "Let me rest," she said, "till +tea-time. What did you say was the train? Five-thirty? Will you order +tea for half-past four? It is half-past two now. Go and explore the +woods. I believe I shall go asleep if I'm allowed. The buzzing of the +bees out there is a drowsy sound."</p> + +<p>Mary voted for walking up-stream, and confessed to a passion for +tracking rivers to their sources. They stepped out briskly. She was +wearing a long cloak of grey-blue cloth, which became her. Presently she +took it off and carried it on her arm. Her frock beneath repeated the +colour of the cloak. It had a soft fichu about the neck of yellowed +muslin, with a pattern of little roses. He looked at her with +admiration. He knew as little about clothes as most men, and, like most +men, he loved blue. She did well to wear blue on such a day. The grey of +her eyes took on the blue of her garments, a blue slightly silvered, +like the blue of the April sky.</p> + +<p>As the ground ascended, the stream brawled and leaped over little +boulders green with the water-stain and lichens. There were quiet pools +beside the boulders. As they stood by one they saw the fin of a trout in +the obscurity.</p> + +<p>They met no one. Presently they were higher than the woods and out on a +green hillside. When they first appeared the place was alive with +rabbits, who hurried to their burrows with a flash of white scuts.</p> + +<p>"If we sit down on the hillside we can see the valley," Sir Robin said. +"We can look down into the valley at our leisure. It is filled with a +golden haze. This good sun is drawing out the winter damps. You shall +have my coat to sit on. Wasn't I far-seeing to bring it?"</p> + +<p>He spread the coat, which he had been carrying on his arm, for Mary, and +she sat down on the very edge of the incline. The St. Bernard laid his +silver and russet head on her skirt. They had lost sight of the river +now. It had retired into the woods. When they sat down Sir Robin +consulted his watch, and found that they might stay for nearly an hour. +There was a bruised sweetness in the atmosphere about them, which they +discovered presently to be wild thyme. They were sitting on a bed of it. +He thought of it afterwards as one of the sweetnesses that must be +always associated with Mary Gray, like the smell of violets. The full +golden sun poured on them, warming them to the heart. The bees buzzed +about the wild thyme and the golden heads of gorse. Little blue moths +fluttered on the hillside. The rabbits, lower down the hill, came out of +their burrows again and gambolled in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>"How sweet it all is!" Mary said impulsively. "I shall always remember +this day."</p> + +<p>"And I."</p> + +<p>He plucked idly at the wild thyme and the little golden vetches among +the coarse grass of the hillside. A fold of the blue dress lay beside +him. He touched it inadvertently, and the colour came to his cheek: +unobserved, because he had his hat pulled down over his eyes, and Mary +was sketching for him in detail the plan of her book. It interested him +because it was hers. Her voice sounded like poetry. He had not wanted +poetry. Blue-books and statistics had satisfied him very well, hitherto. +But, to be sure, he had read poetry in his Oxford days. Lines and tags +of it came into his mind dreamily as he listened to her voice. He did +not touch that fold of her gown again. If he was sure—but he was not +quite sure. And there was Nelly. He supposed Nelly cared for him if she +was willing to marry him. If Nelly cared—why, then, he had no right to +think of other possibilities.</p> + +<p>Something had gone out of the glory and enchantment of the day as they +went back down the hillside. Those lambs of clouds had suddenly banked +themselves up into grey fleeces which covered the sun. The wind blew a +little cold.</p> + +<p>"It is the capriciousness of April," said Mary, unconscious of any +change in the mental atmosphere.</p> + +<p>He stopped on the downhill path, took her cloak from her arm, and with +kind carefulness laid it about her shoulders. As he arranged it he +touched one of the soft curls that lay on her white neck, and again a +thrill passed through him. He began to wish that he had not planned this +country expedition, after all. He ought really to have started this +morning for the Continent. Going on Saturday, he would have very little +time to stay.</p> + +<p>On the homeward way Mrs. Morres reproached him with his dulness. What +had come to him?</p> + +<p>He hesitated, glancing at Mary in her corner. Mary had enjoyed her day +thoroughly, and was wearing an air of great content. She was carrying a +bunch of the wild thyme. She had taken off her hat and her cloudy hair +seemed blown about her head like an aureole. She had a delicate, wild, +elusive air. He withdrew his glance abruptly.</p> + +<p>"It is a guilty conscience," he said. "I ought not to come back and dine +with you to-night. I ought to put you into a cab and myself into +another, go home for my bag and take the night-express to Paris. The +House only rises for ten days and I have to be in my place on the +opening night."</p> + +<p>Mary looked up at him with a friendly air of being disappointed. She was +engaged in putting the wild thyme into a bunch, stalk by stalk. Mrs. +Morres began to protest—</p> + +<p>"Well, of all the deceitful persons! After luring me to spend a Good +Friday in town. To be sure, I shall have Mary. Will you come to the Good +Friday service at St. Hugh's with me, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I should love to come."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then. Have your bag packed and come back with me to sleep. +We shall get off the earlier on Saturday morning. So we shan't miss you +at all, Sir Robin."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with great contrition.</p> + +<p>"My mother—" he began.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, your mother has first claim. To say nothing of another."</p> + +<p>He coloured. Mary was looking at him with kind interest. Mrs. Morres +sent him a quick glance—then looked away again.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, you must go, Sir Robin," she said, in a serious voice. "I +was only jesting. Ah! here we are! So it is good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Au revoir," he corrected.</p> + +<p>"Well, au revoir. I hope you'll have a very happy time at Lugano. But +you are sure to."</p> + +<p>A moment later they had gone off in their cab, and he was feeling the +blank of their absence.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>WILD THYME AND VIOLETS</h3> + + +<p>While Sir Robin and Mary Gray sat on that English hillside, Nelly and +her father walked on a hilly road above Lugano. The April afternoon was +Paradise. Below, the lake lay blue as a sapphire mirroring a sapphire +sky. The space between them and the lake's edge was tinged with a bloom +of bluish-rose, for all the almond groves were out in blossom. Below +them were drifts of sweet-scented narcissi. All around them lay the +mountains, Monte Rosa silver against the sapphire sky. Below the +fantastic houses clustered to the lake's edge in their little groves and +coppices of green.</p> + +<p>They were talking of Robin's coming. The hour of his arrival was +somewhat uncertain. They might find him at the hotel when they returned, +going home in the evening quietness, when Monte Rosa would be flushed to +rose-pink and the blue sky would die off in splendours of rose and +orange.</p> + +<p>Nelly was certainly looking better. Not a hint had come to her of the +frontier war in which, by this time, her lover must be engaged. The +General starved for his newspapers in these days, if he did not get the +chance of a surreptitious peep at one at the English library, or when +some friendly fellow-guest in the hotel would hand him a belated print +two days old. Nelly had a wild rose bloom in her cheek and a light in +her eye at this moment. Who could look upon such a scene and not praise +the Designer? Not Nelly, certainly. As they paused for the hundredth +time to look she breathed sighs of content and pressed her father's arm +close to hers in a caress. Even though one's lover had been cruel and +had gone away without speaking, it was good to be alive.</p> + +<p>The appealing influence of the season was about them, too. They had just +peeped into a little wayside chapel, where there was a small altar +ablaze with lights set amid masses of flowers. The place was heavy with +sweetness. Here and there knelt worshippers with bent heads. The General +had bowed with a reverent knee, and Nelly had knelt with him before they +had gone out into the blaze of the day again.</p> + +<p>"There are only two armies, after all, Nell," the General had said, +explaining himself. "The army of the Lord and the army of the Prince of +Darkness. Let us rejoice that we have so many fellow-soldiers in the +Lord's army, though we fight in different regiments."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," said Nelly dreamily, "the lights will be all out and the +little chapel draped in black. There will be the service of the Three +Hours' Agony. Do you think we might come?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid the Dowager would be shocked," her father replied hastily. +"She would look upon it as deserting the flag. Many excellent women are +very narrow-minded."</p> + +<p>They went along in silence. At intervals they sat down to enjoy at +leisure the beautiful world about them. They did not say much. There was +little need for talk between two who understood each other so +thoroughly. While they dawdled, half-way round the lake from their +hotel, the sun dropped behind the hills and left them in shadow. It was +time for them to go home.</p> + +<p>As they went along leisurely, Nelly's face, uplifted towards the sky, +seemed to have caught an illumination from it. It was the eve of the +Great Sacrifice. Already the shadow and the light of it lay over the +world. Nelly was thrilled and touched. That visit to the wayside chapel +had set chords vibrating in her heart. Sacrifice for love's sake +appealed to her as it does to all generous, impressionable young souls. +Though her own personal happiness had vanished, gone down under the +world with the <i>Sutlej</i>, there was yet the happiness possible of making +those she loved happy. She had understood her father's wistful looks and +tentative speeches. She knew that he desired her happiness to be in her +cousin's keeping. The old days were over, the sweet days before that +other had come, when she and her father had sufficed for each other. +They could never come again, and he wanted her to marry Robin. Robin's +mother, who was good to her, had suggested that she was trying Robin's +patience too far. Why, if she could make them all happy—she was not in +a state of mind to appreciate what marriage with one man while she loved +another was going to cost her—if she could make them all happy, ought +she not to do so?</p> + +<p>"Father!" she whispered. "Father!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Nell?"</p> + +<p>She rubbed her cheek slowly against his arm, not speaking for a second +or two.</p> + +<p>"Father, I am ready to marry Robin whenever you will."</p> + +<p>The General's heart bounded up with an immense relief.</p> + +<p>"Whenever I will?" he said, with an air of rallying her. "Is it not +rather whenever you will? Poor Robin has been waiting long enough."</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure he wants me: I mean soon?"</p> + +<p>"He'd be a dull fellow if he didn't."</p> + +<p>The General had suddenly a memory of the time when he had called Robin a +dull fellow in his secret heart because he had been content to wait, +endlessly to all appearances. He put the memory away hastily as an +uncomfortable one.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, he wants you soon, Nelly, my dear," he said. "As soon as +your old father can give you up to him. You have always been Robin's +little sweetheart from the time you were a child. He has never thought +of any girl but you."</p> + +<p>He made the speech with a gulp, as though it were distasteful to him.</p> + +<p>"I never thought there was any girl," Nelly said simply. "Robin is not +at all a young man for girls. Only he cares so much for politics. He has +not seemed in any hurry."</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul, to be sure, he is in a hurry. He must be in a hurry. +When you get back to your looking-glass, little Nell, ask yourself +whether it is likely that he should not be in a hurry!"</p> + +<p>He was talking as much to reassure himself as Nelly. To be sure, Robin +must be as eager a lover as it was in his capacity to be. There was +nothing volcanic about Robin. He was steady, sensible, reliable! Yes, +better let the affair be settled at once. June would be a good month for +the wedding. He could go afterwards and take the cure at Vichy for his +gout. Pat could go with him. Perhaps Nelly would take over Bridget and +some of the other servants. Why shouldn't Robin and Nelly have the house +just as it stood? He would make them a deed of gift of it. He could have +a bachelor's flat somewhere near the Parks and the Clubs, with Pat to +look after him. It would be easier for him if the old house sanctified +by many memories were not to be broken up.</p> + +<p>Nelly's exaltation carried her on to Saturday afternoon. Sir Robin had +arrived on the morning of that day while the General and Nelly were out +climbing the lower range of a hill. The Dowager was no climber. More +than that, she had acquired tact and good feeling it seemed in her +latter days, for she left father and daughter very much together. The +General's heart had begun to soften towards her. He had begun to ask +himself how it was that he could have so persistently misjudged her all +those years. If Gerald had liked her well enough to marry her, surely he +could have done her more justice than so to dislike her.</p> + +<p>The Dowager had her son to herself for some hours of the Saturday +forenoon. He had suggested following Nelly and her father up the +mountain track, but she had detained him with a demonstrativeness +unusual in her, which struck him like a jarring note. What had come over +his mother? She had always been a woman of a cold and even harsh manner, +at least to him. To be sure, he had noticed with amazement that she had +been different to Nelly. She ought to have had a daughter instead of a +son. He had no idea that if he had been a dashing soldier he might have +been a far less dutiful son, a far less satisfactory member of society +than he was and yet have awakened a feeling in his mother's breast which +she had never given to him. Now he was embarrassed somewhat by her +playful insistence on her mother's right to her boy for a time. +Playfulness sat as ill on her as could well be imagined, and he was +captious over her raillery on his hurry to be at his cousin's side, +calling it atrocious taste in his irritable mind, he who had never been +irritable, to whom it would have seemed the worst of taste to question +good taste in his mother.</p> + +<p>More than one person was irritable with the Dowager that day. The +General was furiously irritable over the transparent man[oe]uvre by +which she packed off the young people together.</p> + +<p>"Enough to spoil the whole thing," he thought, pursing his lips and +pushing out his eyebrows as he did when he was annoyed. "Indelicate! +Stupid! I'd rather have her when she was disagreeable. My poor Nell! She +did not look very happy as she went. I had a great mind to go with her +and spoil things, after all."</p> + +<p>The cousins found their way to Nelly's favourite haunt, the little +coppice of low almond trees with the troops of narcissi and violets and +primroses colouring all the brown earth. They went into the little +chapel together. It smelt of incense after the ceremonies of the +morning. The mournful black had been removed. There were flowers on a +side-table, and the sacristan was setting the candlesticks on the fair +white cloth which he had just laid along the altar. The scents in the +woods at home had been thin and faint by these. Standing with his hat in +his hand at the threshold of the little chapel, Robin Drummond had a +memory of the scent of wild thyme.</p> + +<p>He was not one to hesitate when he had made up his mind. His mother had +told him that Nelly was waiting, ready for the word which might have +been hers any time those two or three years back. Her father thought the +time had come to arrange a date for their marriage. His mother, too, was +anxious to see him settled. Neither she nor the General was young any +longer. They had a right to look upon their children's happiness for the +years that were left to them of life.</p> + +<p>The young people were high on a mountain path, where few were to be met +with except an occasional Englishman climbing like themselves, or the +goatherds with their little flocks. He had helped her up a steep bit of +climbing. The exertion had brought an unwonted colour to her face. Her +hand lay in his, soft and warm. His closed on it and held it. It was the +hand of one who had never done anything toilsome in her life, the hand +of a petted darling. He remembered another hand, thin, brown, capable. +None of Mary's later years of ease had given her the hand of a woman of +leisure. It was the hand of a comrade, a helpmate. Nelly's hand +fluttered in his and was suddenly cold.</p> + +<p>"Well, Nell," he said, "do you know what I came here in the mind to ask +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." He saw the quick rise and fall of her bosom; he noticed the +almost terrified look of her eyes. Was that how women showed their happy +agitation when their lovers claimed them? Poor little Nell! How easily +frightened she was! She had turned quite pale. He would have to be very +good to her in the days to come.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you kept me waiting long enough, little girl?" he went on with +a tenderness which might easily have passed for a lover's. "I've been +very patient, haven't I? But now my patience has come to an end. When +are you going to fix a date for our marriage?"</p> + +<p>"We have been very happy," began Nelly with trembling lips.</p> + +<p>"Not so happy as we are going to be. God knows, Nell, I will do my best +to make you happy, and may God bless my best!"</p> + +<p>As he said it the scent of some little plant, bruised beneath his feet, +rose to his nostrils, sharply aromatic. It was the wild thyme, the +fragrance of which had hung about him those few days back, no matter how +he tried to banish it.</p> + +<p>"I will be very good to you, Nelly, if you can trust me with yourself."</p> + +<p>It was not the least bit in the world like the love-making of Nelly's +dreams. To be sure, he was good and kind, the dear, kind old Robin he +had always been. She was grateful that he was not more lover-like +according to her ideals. If he had taken her in his arms and kissed her +passionately like that other—she smelt lilies of the valley where Robin +Drummond smelt the wild thyme—she could not have endured it. As it was, +she answered him sweetly.</p> + +<p>"I know you will be good to me, Robin. When were you ever anything but +good?"</p> + +<p>Then he kissed her, a light kiss that brushed her lips. He felt his own +shortcomings as a lover when he saw the blood rush tumultuously to her +face, cover even her neck. Why, she must care for him with some passion +to blush like that for his kiss. He had no idea that it was the memory +of another kiss which had caused that wild flush of colour.</p> + +<p>"Well, Nell, when is it to be?" he asked, trying to galvanise himself +out of his coldness, trying to make the pity and tenderness which she +awoke in him take the place of passion.</p> + +<p>"When you will, Robin."</p> + +<p>"You will never repent it, God helping me," he said again.</p> + +<p>They came back, as they were expected to, with things settled between +them. Robin had consulted a calendar in his pocket-book and named a +date—Thursday, 23rd of July. He would be free then. The House would +have risen and he would be able to devote himself to his honeymooning +with a clear mind. He had not asked for an earlier date, but it did not +occur to Nelly to wonder at that. She was relieved to find it so far +off. Already she thought of the time between as a respite, the "Long +day, my Lord!" of those condemned to death.</p> + +<p>The Dowager saw nothing wrong with the date. They could wander about the +Continent leisurely, coming home early in June to prepare Nelly's +wedding-clothes. The General, after his first irritation had passed, had +brought himself to tell her of his plan about the house. She approved +graciously as she thought. It was very generous of the General. To be +sure, Robin must have a town house now he was married. Sherwood Square +was a little out of the way and quite unfashionable. Still, it was a +fine house in an excellent situation to balance those drawbacks. And of +course it must be new-papered and painted and modern conveniences placed +in it. That could be done while the young couple were away honeymooning. +Robin must be on the telephone, of course. That was indispensable. And +the furniture must be fresh-covered, so much of it as they decided to +keep. A deal of it was old-fashioned and had better go to a sale-room. +New carpets too. Already the Dowager was making calculations of what it +was going to cost the General. She was capable of a certain grim +enjoyment in the spending of other people's money.</p> + +<p>"Do you propose to live with them, ma'am?" the General asked at last, in +a constrained voice.</p> + +<p>She looked at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Why, to be sure. Poor child, she will need someone beside her. Those +servants of yours, Denis, they've had their own way too much. I've no +doubt there's a terrible leakage in the establishment."</p> + +<p>"If you propose to live with them, ma'am," the General went on, bursting +with fury, "I don't give up my house at all. Robin can find his own +town-house. The servants have done very well for me and Nelly. So have +the chairs and tables and carpets. I'd nearly as soon send my own flesh +and blood to an auction-room."</p> + +<p>The Dowager was alarmed. She tried to propitiate the General after her +usual manner towards him. It was as though she tried to distract a +froward child.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," she said, "dear me! I didn't mean to offend you, Denis. The +house is shabby. Those dogs have always sat in the chairs and on the +carpets. I only thought that we might put our heads together for the +good of the young people."</p> + +<p>"I'm a Dutchman if we will, ma'am!" shouted the General. "As for the +dogs, did you intend to exclude them, too, from the fine new house? +You'd never teach them not to sit in chairs at this time of their +lives."</p> + +<p>This outbreak was followed by the usual fit of repentance, in which the +General reproached himself for his hastiness. To be sure, he had been +annoyed that the wedding should have been put off for so long. In his +haste he had said derogatory things about Robin in his heart, which was +unreasonable. The fellow was a Member of Parliament and had to stick to +his post, to stick to his post like a soldier. Yet, there would be all +those weeks of June and July when bad news might come any day about +Langrishe: and Nell would be in London and would hear of it.</p> + +<p>So, although the thing had come about which he desired, the General was +not happy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE</h3> + + +<p>It was the latter end of April when Sir Robin Drummond presented himself +again in the big bare room where Mary Gray transacted the business of +her Bureau. The windows were wide open now, and the dull roar of the +distant street traffic came in. It had been a showery day, and he had +noticed as he came up the stairs the many marks of muddy feet which +showed that business at the Bureau was brisk. The women were coming at +last to be organised, to learn a spirit of <i>camaraderie</i>, to see that +their good was the common good, to have hope for a future which would +not be always starvation and deprivation, sufferings in cold and heats, +intolerable miseries crowding upon each other.</p> + +<p>He came up the stairs, looking sadder and sterner than was his wont. He +remembered how all last winter he had run up those stairs like a +school-boy, being so glad at last to get to the hour he had desired all +day. As he passed up the staircase now he looked at the walls, +distempered a dirty pink. Outside Mary's door they were adorned by the +effusions of amateur artists, the children of the working women, +messenger boys, casual urchins, with the desire of their kind for +scribbling. It was all quite unlovely, yet it had made him happy to come +there. It was a happiness that he had had no right to and now it must be +relinquished. This was the last time he should come after this intimate +fashion.</p> + +<p>He turned the handle of the door and went in, rather dreading to find +Mary engaged with other visitors; but she was alone. She turned round +from her desk as he came in, and, jumping up at sight of him, she came +to meet him with an outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"Congratulate me," she said. "The book is finished and accepted. +Strangmans have taken it. They took only a week to decide. I am wild +with pride and joy. Maurice Ilbert is one of their readers. He got it to +read and recommended it enthusiastically. They are to publish it in +June. Wasn't it generous of him, because there is so little of it he can +agree with?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ilbert's conscience is pretty elastic, I should say, and he can +agree with many things," Sir Robin answered. He felt vaguely annoyed +that Ilbert should have had anything to do with Mary or her book. Ilbert +was one of the younger school of Tories, a free-lance he called himself, +handsome, conceited, immensely clever, a golden youth with an air of +Oxford and the Schools added to him. He was one of the youngest members +of Parliament, and was gifted with a dazzling and impertinent wit. Sir +Robin had occasionally smarted under Ilbert's sallies. He was a target +for them, with his serious and simple views, his lean air of Don +Quixote.</p> + +<p>Mary looked at him reproachfully, as though the speech grieved her.</p> + +<p>"He is very generous," she repeated. "He has come to see me. I found him +most sympathetic. It is not a question of parties. He thinks awfully +well of the book. He says it will stir the public conscience. To be +sure, it is written out of experience, just the plain story of things as +they are. I have learned so much since I began this work."</p> + +<p>He had got over his first ill-temper, and now he spoke gently.</p> + +<p>"I am sure it is a good book," he said. "I have always felt that you +would make a good book of it because you know. Ilbert is a very capable +critic."</p> + +<p>He did Ilbert justice with some difficulty. He had a sharp thought of +Ilbert coming in and out as he had been used to, when he should come no +more. For the first time in his life, which had had no room for +self-consciousness, he compared himself with another man, handsome, +debonair, and remembered the lean visage over which mornings he passed +the razor, dark, lantern-jawed, almost grotesque. It was the only aspect +of himself he knew, the one which was presented to him when he shaved.</p> + +<p>"Now you are like yourself," Mary said sweetly. "It was not like you to +throw cold water on my pleasure."</p> + +<p>He turned away his head from her reconciled eyes. She was making what he +had come to say doubly hard for him.</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you something," he said. "I should like you to hear it +from me first, because you have been so good a friend to me. I have +spoken to you of my cousin, Nelly. I wanted you to be her friend. +Well—I am to marry my cousin in July."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment after he had said it, a silence broken +only by the ticking of the noisy clock on the mantelpiece, by the sounds +of the street outside.</p> + +<p>"There has been an implicit engagement between my cousin and myself," he +went on as though he set his teeth to it. "I couldn't tell you when it +began. It was made for us. I was always ready to be bound by it. She is +as sweet a thing as ever lived; but sometimes I have thought that +perhaps, perhaps, the cousinly closeness would make the other tie a +difficult thing for Nelly to accept. I was wrong. She has no desire to +break through that implicit bond."</p> + +<p>He was making an explanation, and Mary Gray was not the girl to +misunderstand him.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad," she said cheerfully, "very glad. I hope you will be +very happy. I am sure that you will be."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with relief, which was not altogether agreeable. He had +not done her any wrong after all. She was not angry with him. But, to be +sure, why should she be? It was unlikely that she would have taken more +than a friendly interest in him. He mocked at himself, and thought of +his harsh uncomeliness. If he had been Ilbert now his conduct of all +this winter past would have been unpardonable. But Ilbert and he were +made in a different mould. Oddly, the thought did not comfort him—was a +bitter one, rather.</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down and tell me about it?" Mary said, her eyes looking +at him frankly and kindly. "I am not at all busy. The business of the +Bureau is pretty well over for the day, and I can finish my proofs at +home. Do, Sir Robin."</p> + +<p>She pushed a chair towards him, and he sat down in it. He felt that he +ought to go. It was a concession to his own weakness that he stayed. And +he had no inclination at all to talk about his engagement. He tried to +say something, tried to imagine what a man happily engaged to be married +would find to say to a sympathetic woman-friend about it. He could think +of nothing, only that so far as he could see there was no consciousness +in the serious bright eyes that watched him. To be sure he ought to be +glad. He would be the most miserable hound on earth if he wished her to +be unhappy because he was marrying his cousin. Yet he was not glad of +that ready sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said at last, "you have nothing to tell me."</p> + +<p>"What can I say"—he laughed awkwardly—"that I have not already said? +We have been brought up like brother and sister, but our elders always +expected us to marry when we should be old enough. We have been taking +it easy, Nell and I; thought there was plenty of time, you know."</p> + +<p>"And at last you have decided that the plenty of time is up?" she said, +filling the gap in his speech. Her eyes were wondering now. It was a +strange thing to her that lovers should take it easy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was it."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I understand now why you felt you had to go that Thursday in +Holy Week. It was very good of you to give us so much of your time."</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell me how you got on, what you did," he said eagerly. He +was glad to escape from the discussion of his too intimate affairs. +"What did you do on Good Friday, after all?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Morres spent the day with me. It was a lovely day. We went to the +service at St. Hugh's. The music was wonderful. Afterwards we sat by the +open window and talked. My window-box was full of daffodils. They are +just over now. Mrs. Morres said it was like the country. Afterwards I +locked up the flat, put the key in my pocket, discovered a hansom—it +wasn't easy, but 'Tilda, who comes in to tidy up for me every day, +managed it. Her young man is a hansom-driver. I stayed the night at the +Square, and we went down to Hazels next morning."</p> + +<p>"Was it good?"</p> + +<p>"Exquisite. I finished the book there. We had miraculous weather. I was +able to work out of doors in the very same green garden where her +Ladyship and I worked at the novel last year. The dogs used to sit all +around me: and I believe the birds remembered me. I am sure I recognised +one robin. I came back like a lion refreshed, with the full copy of the +book done up in my portmanteau. Since then I have been enjoying the +sweets of a mind at ease."</p> + +<p>"You look it."</p> + +<p>She did, indeed, look like a flower refreshed. She was wearing a soft +grey gown with a little good, yellowed lace about the shoulders. The +lace had been a gift from Lady Anne. It gave the final touch of +distinction to Mary's air. She had the warm, pale complexion that goes +well, with grey, and her hair seemed to have more than usual of gold in +it. Standing against the light it was blown out like a little aureole +full of stars. He had thought that he could like her in nothing so well +as her dark blue frock, but now he thought that grey should be her only +wear.</p> + +<p>"What time do you leave?" he asked, glancing at the clock.</p> + +<p>"Not for a long time yet. It is only half-past five. People come in and +out here up to quite late. I foresee that my hours will be later and +later."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't let them take too much of your time. You must have time for +exercise, for meals, for rest, for your friends——"</p> + +<p>"I am so profoundly interested in the work that I don't grumble. As for +my friends, they can see me here. For exercise I walk most of the way +between Kensington and this, either coming or going. Society is not +likely to claim me—at least, not in her Ladyship's absence. My few +friends can find me here."</p> + +<p>It was on his lips to ask her to let him walk part of the way home with +her. He might have this last pleasure since he was coming here no more, +at least not in the old way. But, as though her words had been a +challenge, there was a clatter of wheels and horses in the narrow street +below.</p> + +<p>"A carriage," Mary said. "It will be one of the fine ladies who are +interested in philanthropy and politics."</p> + +<p>There was a rustle of silks and murmur of voices coming up the stairs. +Sir Robin sat holding his hat in one hand, vaguely annoyed. Why should +one of those meddlesome fine ladies choose for the hour of her empty, +unimportant visit his last hour with Mary Gray?</p> + +<p>He sat irritated, shy, awkward, his feelings faithfully reflected in his +face. The door opened. A lady came in whom he had occasionally met in +drawing-rooms, a slight, tall woman, with a brilliant brunette face. A +delicate perfume came with her entrance. She was finely dressed, as fine +as a humming-bird, and it became her. She looked incredibly young to be +the mother of the slim youth who followed her. The youth was Maurice +Ilbert. His mother, Mrs. Ilbert, was well known as one of the most +brilliant and exclusive hostesses in fine London circles. Now she was +holding Mary's two hands in her own grey-gloved ones.</p> + +<p>"I insisted that my son should bring me to see you, Miss Gray," she was +saying with <i>empressement</i>. "I hope you will excuse my descending on you +like this. But I positively had to. This wonderful book of yours—my boy +has been talking of it every hour we have been alone. It is such a +pleasure to meet you. Ah—Sir Robin Drummond, how do you do? Are you +also privileged to know about the wonderful book?"</p> + +<p>To Robin Drummond's mind Ilbert's smile and nod had something amused, +mocking in them. He had acknowledged the greeting with the curtest of +nods.</p> + +<p>Now he got up, shook hands awkwardly with Mrs. Ilbert, and made his +farewells to Mary Gray. It was sheer ill-temper drove him out as soon as +they had come. He had wanted to ask Mary if he might bring Nelly when +she returned to town. He had wanted ... a good many other things. But +now he stalked away from her presence with fury in his heart. If the +Ilberts were going to take her up!—to exploit the book! The Ilberts +belonged to the young Tory party which his soul detested, or he said so +in his wrath; as a matter of fact, he had not many detestations, and in +the matter of politics he had no personal rancours. Yet at the moment he +thought he had, and fancied that a part of his indignation was because +Mary Gray, who had learnt in the Radical school, was going to be made +much of by advanced Tories. As he sat in his hansom, "stepping westward" +into the heart of the sunset, he bit the ends of his moustache, and it +was like chewing the cud of bitterness. Mary Gray had expanded to answer +the genial warmth of Mrs. Ilbert's manner as a flower opens to the sun. +It was not in her to be ungracious, and Mrs. Ilbert was a charming +woman.</p> + +<p>And now he asked himself what was he going to do for the next month or +six weeks till his mother and Nelly came home? All the winter he had +been in the habit of seeing Mary Gray two or three times a week. He had +been home a week from Lugano, and he had kept away; and all the time +something stronger than himself had seemed to be tugging at him to take +the old familiar road. He had found it a hard struggle to keep away for +those ten days. And how was he going to do it for all those weeks to +come? He had always had so much to say to her—or, at least, there had +always been things he wanted to say, for in his most intimate moments he +was naturally rather silent.</p> + +<p>For a second his thoughts escaped his control, and settled on the +pleasantness that bare ugly work-a-day room had meant to him all the +winter through. The sodden winter streets, swept by bitter winds, +horrible in fog and snow, through which he had hurried on his way had +had something heavenly about them. "Ah, le beau temps passé!"</p> + +<p>He pulled himself together with a sharp shock of reproach. He was to +marry Nelly in less than three months' time, and he was an honourable +man. When Nelly was his wife he meant that every thought of his heart +should belong to her. He must see Mary Gray no more. Yet as he pushed +the thought of her away from him it came to him that another man might +find the ugly gas-lit room, the wet winter streets with their bawling +crowds and flaring lights, something of the same magical world that he +had found them. Supposing that man were Ilbert? Well, supposing it were +so, what business had he to resent it? But however he might ask himself +rhetorical questions, the jealousy of the natural man swept over him in +passion and fury. He said to himself that now he knew why he had always +hated Ilbert. It was a prevision of this hour.</p> + +<p>And at the moment the General was offering up his heartfelt thanks that +Nelly's happiness was secure in the keeping of one so steady and +reliable, if rather dull and slow, as Robin Drummond.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>TWO WOMEN</h3> + + +<p>The travellers came home the first week of June. During the weeks that +had come and gone since Easter they had wandered about as the fancy took +them. Rome, Florence, Genoa, Venice. They followed a path of wonders; +but, somewhat to her father's dismay, Nelly did not prove the passionate +pilgrim he had expected. She looked on listlessly at the wonder-world. +Now that her first exaltation had died away it did not seem so simple a +matter to make others happy. There was no royal road, she discovered, to +the happiness of others any more than to her own.</p> + +<p>Her father said to himself that Nell would be all right as soon as the +wedding was over. He had not come to the point of thinking yet that +marriage with Robin Drummond was not the way the Finger of God had +pointed out to him. It was impossible not to notice Nelly's listless +step and heavy eyes. The Dowager put down these things to ordinary +delicacy, something the girl would outgrow.</p> + +<p>"She wants a husband's care," she said. "To be sure, my dear Denis, you +have done your best for her. But what, after all, could you know about +girls?"</p> + +<p>"As much as Robin Drummond, ma'am," the General said, with a growl; and +was not placated by the Dowager's tolerant smile.</p> + +<p>He was at once glad and sorry when the weeks were over. He dreaded, for +one thing, going back to London where Nelly might hear news of Godfrey +Langrishe. To be sure, he had acted entirely for her happiness, yet he +had an idea that Nell might be angry with him for keeping things from +her if she found out that Langrishe's regiment was engaged in the deadly +frontier war. He had been so used to being perfectly frank with her that +his reservation galled him.</p> + +<p>He had studied with attentiveness the columns of such papers as had come +his way, dreading to find Langrishe's name among the casualties. +Hitherto it had not occurred, and for that he was deeply grateful. If +there had been news he must have betrayed it to Nelly by his eyes and +his voice.</p> + +<p>"I wish we could have stayed longer," she said to him on the eve of +their departure from Italy.</p> + +<p>"And I, Nell."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she looked at him in wonder. "I thought you were keen to be gone."</p> + +<p>"Is it likely?" he asked with playful tenderness, "that I should be +anxious to shorten the time in which you are mine and not Robin +Drummond's?"</p> + +<p>They were alone, and she turned and put her head on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I shall always be yours," she said. "And I think marriage and giving in +marriage a weariness of the spirit."</p> + +<p>"Not really, Nell?" The General looked at her golden head in alarm, but +already she was reproaching herself.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear papa," she said. "I didn't altogether mean it. Poor, +kind Robin! What a very ungrateful girl I am to you all!"</p> + +<p>As soon as they got back the Dowager engaged her in a whirl of shops and +dressmakers, and for that the General was grateful. He resorted to +man[oe]uvres in those days to keep the newspapers out of Nelly's way +that revealed to himself hitherto unsuspected depths of cunning. He +opened the papers with a tremor. The orange and green and pink bills of +the evening newspapers stuck up where Nelly could see them, laid on the +pavement almost under her feet, brought his heart into his mouth. If +they could only tide over the dangerous time, and Nelly be married and +gone off on her leisurely honeymoon! Langrishe might almost fade out of +her mind, become at least a gentle memory, before anything could happen +to him: or the deadly little dragging war might be over and Langrishe +have carried out a whole skin.</p> + +<p>It was the height of the season and Nelly had her social engagements as +well as the preparations for her wedding. As often as was possible Robin +Drummond put in an appearance, but the House was sitting and much of his +time was taken up. He looked rather more hatchet-faced than of old. +Once, sitting in the Strangers' Gallery of the House, the General heard +someone say as Robin was about to speak: "Who is that careworn-looking +young man?" Careworn, indeed! The General fumed and fretted over it, the +more because it fell in with a certain secret thought he had had once or +twice. Robin had always been somewhat too much of an old head on young +shoulders to please his uncle. To be sure, he had fed on Blue Books and +slept on statistics, yet his engagement to a lovely girl like Nelly +ought to have made him look happier. It was indecent in the +circumstances, that's what it was, that anybody, with the remotest +justification for the epithet, could call him careworn.</p> + +<p>Once Robin on an afternoon when the House was not sitting called for his +cousin and carried her off in a hansom without saying where he was +taking her to. That was something of which the General heartily +approved. If Robin had done it oftener his opinion of him would have +gone up immensely. He rubbed his hands while he asked the Dowager what +Mrs. Grundy would say to such doings. "Supposing they made a runaway +match of it, ma'am, where should we be?" he asked cheerfully. To which +the Dowager replied that Robin would never think of anything so silly. +Why should he, when the wedding was fixed for the twenty-third and +everything ordered, even the bridesmaids' dresses and the wedding-cake? +"Perhaps for that reason," replied the General. But this was a dark +saying to the Dowager.</p> + +<p>The visit that afternoon was to Mary Gray. Even Nelly had heard of the +book which Sir Michael Auberon had praised so highly, which the +newspapers had declared to be more interesting than any novel. She had +roused herself to be interested in the visit, to talk, to ask questions, +to look about her, as they drove into the east, instead of gazing +inwards with that introspective glance which had given her eyes of late +the beauty of mystery, making them larger and darker than they had been +in the old days.</p> + +<p>She was exquisitely dressed, in a long cloak of cream lace over an +Indian muslin frock, and an airy hat of chiffon and feathers. She had +put on her best for her outing with Robin, her visit to Robin's friend. +It was one of the sweet things she was always doing, with an intention +in her own mind to make up for some lack or other which certainly her +lover had not felt. When she alighted in the busy street people stared +as though they had seen a white bird of Paradise; and coming into Mary +Gray's room with a basket of roses in her hand she looked like a bride.</p> + +<p>Now, at least, she wore the pilgrim air. She looked curiously about the +unlikely place which housed the wonderful woman as she set down her +roses, then back at Mary herself. Mary had come to meet her with +outstretched hands. Her bright look at Robin Drummond was full of +sympathetic admiration, of felicitation. She kissed Nelly warmly. She +was not an effusive person, and nothing had been further from her +thoughts than kissing, but her heart went out at once to this charming +girl.</p> + +<p>"<i>How</i> good of you to come to see me!" she said, pressing Nelly's hands +in hers. "Into the east, too! And you must be so busy just now."</p> + +<p>"I have been longing to see you," Nelly responded. "Robin has talked so +much about you." At that moment Nelly had no doubt that he had talked. +"And I wanted to see you here, in your ordinary life. Robin says you +will not be here much longer—that there will be an official position +found for you. And it was here that 'Creatures of Burden' was written!"</p> + +<p>"Nearly all here," Mary said, smiling down at the young enthusiast.</p> + +<p>Robin Drummond stood aside, in one of his characteristically awkward +attitudes, his hat in his hand, watching them. He was not thinking +sufficiently of himself to feel awkward, although he looked it. He was +thinking of those two dear women, as he called them to himself, +objurgating himself for his unworthiness to be the kinsman and lover of +one, the friend of the other.</p> + +<p>He had never seen Nelly look like that before. Her air of worship was +charming. Now she let Mary Gray's hands fall while she went swiftly to +the table on which she had deposited her beautiful red roses. "I brought +them for you," she said, offering them to Mary Gray.</p> + +<p>"How delicious! How sweet of you!"</p> + +<p>The smell of the roses was in the room. It might have been the aura of +the two exquisite women, he thought. Nelly had come in carrying a little +whiff of scent that went with her, as much a part of her as the soft +rustling of her garments. He closed his eyes and there came to his +memory, sweet and sharp, the odour of wild thyme. Not a second of time +had passed when he opened them again. Mary was still praising her roses. +She was holding them to her face, leaning towards Nelly as she did so. +Her expression was more than kind: it was tender. She put down her +basket of roses and took Nelly's hands between hers. For a moment she +held them against her breast before she relinquished them. She spoke +with a little tremor in her voice. Why was it that Robin Drummond +thought suddenly of the nightingale who leans his breast upon a thorn?</p> + +<p>In an instant the thrill in the atmosphere had passed. She was bustling +about to make them tea, if her soft, quiet movements could be called +bustling. She brought a kettle from the unpainted deal cupboard which +housed her utensils of every day. She disappeared for a few seconds and +returned with the kettle full of water and set it on the gas-stove. She +pushed the papers away from one end of the table and covered it with a +dainty tea-cloth. She brought out cups and saucers of thin Japanese +porcelain, some sugar, a loaf and butter, a box of biscuits. While she +set her table she went on talking and smiling at them. The kettle began +to sing on the fire.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she said, with a sudden thought. "The milkman will not call for an +hour yet. What are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"Let me go and forage," said Drummond eagerly.</p> + +<p>"The nearest dairy is a good bit off."</p> + +<p>"Trust me to find one."</p> + +<p>When he had gone the two girls sat down and looked at each other. No +wonder she was beloved, Mary thought to herself, gloating over Nelly's +golden head, her blue eyes with the dark lashes, her lovely colouring, +her innocent mouth. She had a poor opinion of her own beauty and rarely +looked in a glass, but she was none the less generous to beauty in +others.</p> + +<p>"And you are very happy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>She had an inclination to put her arms about Nelly Drummond as though +she were a beautiful child. She was so glad Robin had remembered to +bring her at last. It had been strange and lonely when he had ceased to +come as he had been used to. It had been so pleasant to look up when his +tap came at the door and to see his plain, pleasant face looking at her +with a friendly smile. She had grown used to his visits all that winter +through; and when they had ceased abruptly she had missed them more than +she cared to acknowledge to herself. She had an impulse to take Nelly's +hand to her breast and hold it there for comfort.</p> + +<p>"And you are very happy?" she said again.</p> + +<p>She was prepared for a happy girl's outpourings. What she was not +prepared for was the sudden shadow that fell on Nelly's face, the +weariness, as though she had been brought back to the thought of +something disagreeable. A sudden wintriness went over her charming face. +The eyes drooped, the lips trembled and were steadied with an effort.</p> + +<p>"I ought to be very happy," she said. "Everyone is good to me. I have +the dearest old father in the world and Robin is so kind and good. I +ought to be very happy and to make other people happy."</p> + +<p>But she was not happy! Mary stared at the golden head with incredulity. +For the moment Nelly's mask—a transparent one enough at best—with +which she faced the world was down. No happy girl had ever spoken so, +looked so. And it wanted only a few weeks to her marriage!</p> + +<p>Mary, no more logical than women less intellectual than she, felt as her +first impulse a coldness, chilling her heart that had been so warm +towards the girl Robin Drummond had chosen. The chill must have reached +Nelly's delicate apprehension, for she looked up in a startled way.</p> + +<p>"Robin promised me your friendship," she began.</p> + +<p>"And, to be sure, it is yours," Mary Gray said, still wondering at the +inexplicable thing that Robin Drummond's promised wife could have secret +cause for unhappiness. She had no further inclination to caress the girl +for whom she had been passed by. "We are going to be great friends," she +said with a cold sweetness.</p> + +<p>Then the kettle boiled over and created a diversion. While Mary was +still mopping up the pool it had made on the floor Sir Robin returned. +His voyage of discovery had not been in vain. He had indeed chartered a +hansom to make it, and had brought back fascinating things in the way of +cream and tea-cakes and other dainties. As he came in he glanced at the +two whom he hoped to see friends. A shadow rested on Nelly's face. He +saw nothing amiss with Mary Gray as she went to and fro, busy with the +little meal, and had no fault to find with her words as they parted.</p> + +<p>"We are going to be great friends, Miss Drummond and I," she said.</p> + +<p>But the note of the nightingale that leans his breast on the thorn, the +note of self-sacrifice and yearning tenderness had gone out of her +voice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>LIGHT ON THE WAY</h3> + + +<p>It wanted three weeks to her wedding when one day Nelly suddenly came +upon Mrs. Rooke in one of the narrow, fashionable streets south of +Oxford Street. Mrs. Rooke was coming out of a florist's shop, and she +was carrying a sheaf of lilies in her hand. For one second she looked as +though she would have turned aside and avoided Nelly. Then she came +straight on with a little unfriendly uplifting of her white chin.</p> + +<p>She might have passed with a bow if Nelly had not stopped straight in +her path.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do?" she said coldly. "What a delightful day! I had no idea +you were back. But to be sure ... I must congratulate you. It is next +month, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is next month," Nelly said with stiff lips. "The twenty-third +of July, to be accurate. I have wondered about you. I hope Mr. Rooke is +well and Cuckoo and Bunny."</p> + +<p>Bunny was the youngest hope of the Rooke household, a wise, fat, +golden-haired child, who had taken a huge fancy to Nelly. At the mention +of his name his mother faltered. She had been used to swear by Bunny's +sagacity. Bunny had been fond of Nelly Drummond; and there had been a +time when Bunny's mother had referred to that fact as though it were +Nelly's patent of nobility.</p> + +<p>"Cuckoo is at school. Bunny hasn't been very well. Those east winds in +May caught him. I had a horrible fright about him. Imagine +Bunny—Bunny—choking with croup! I thought I should have gone mad!"</p> + +<p>For the moment she had forgotten Nelly's offences, and only remembered +that she had been Bunny's friend. Nelly looked back at her as aghast as +herself.</p> + +<p>"Croup! I never thought of such a thing," she responded. "He has never +had it before, has he?"</p> + +<p>"Never. That was why I was so terrified. I didn't know what to do. +There, don't look so frightened about it! It is over—weeks ago. Indeed, +the next day he was about, as well as ever. I should never be so +frightened again. It was the horrible novelty of it."</p> + +<p>That frightened look in Nelly's eyes had softened the little woman's not +very hard heart.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had known," said Nelly. "I have wanted to come to see Bunny. I +brought him a toy from Paris—a lamb that walks about by itself."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you were thinking of him!"</p> + +<p>There was complete reconciliation now in the mother's voice and eyes. +How could she hate the girl who loved Bunny and had remembered to bring +him from Paris a lamb that walked about by itself? She put an impulsive +hand on Nelly's arm.</p> + +<p>"Come home with me and see him. You are not very busy? You can spare the +time?"</p> + +<p>Nelly was on her way to keep a dress-making appointment, but she felt +that not for worlds would she have said so. She flushed up quite +happily. That moment of hostility on Mrs. Rooke's part had chilled her +sensitive soul.</p> + +<p>"Might I call at Sherwood Square for the lamb, do you think?" she asked +diffidently.</p> + +<p>"To be sure you may. And I'll tell you what—stay to lunch with me. +There'll be nobody but ourselves, of course. It comes to me now that I +haven't seen you for centuries."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I should like to stay for lunch, thank you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rooke rather wondered at the pale determination which came over +Nelly's soft face, succeeding the flush of a minute before. It did not +occur to her that Nelly had been pushing away from her with both hands +during the weeks since her return the temptation which at this moment +was offered to her. Nelly was only too conscious of the strength of her +desire to hear something of Godfrey Langrishe.</p> + +<p>It was a feeling she did not dare look in the face. If she had had any +idea at the time she agreed to marry Robin that she was going to be +haunted by the thought of another man she would never have agreed. Even +of late there had been moments when her common-sense had whispered in +her ears, protesting against the folly of marrying one man when another +had so taken possession of her thoughts. But day by day the net had been +drawn closer about her feet. The wedding-clothes, the wedding-breakfast, +the bridesmaids, the wedding-cake, the hundred and one arrangements for +the wedding, had all been strands of the net that held her ever tighter +and tighter. How could she, at this stage, contemplate the breaking of +her engagement? How could she? The courage of her race had not risen to +that.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rooke suggested a 'bus, and Nelly agreed. Now that she had done the +thing against which her conscience protested she did not want to think +over-much. She even wanted to postpone the hearing of the name which she +had been hungry to hear for so long. The news she had desired too. How +was she going to listen to his name, to talk of him calmly? She wanted +time to gain courage. A 'bus did not give one opportunities for talking, +hardly for thinking.</p> + +<p>She knew perfectly well that she should find a clear coast at Sherwood +Square. The General had come part of the journey into town with her on +his way to the club. Poor Sir Denis! If he could only have seen his +Nelly now he would not have been so easy in his mind. Lady Drummond was +engaged during the morning hours; she had to lunch with an old friend. +Nelly had been contemplating lunch in a quiet Regent Street restaurant +rather than the going back to the lonely meal at home. She had known +that a telegram to Robin would have brought him to her side, but she had +not meditated sending that telegram. She had been glad, in her innermost +guilty, repentant heart of her morning of freedom from mother and son.</p> + +<p>The 'bus rumbled along as that vehicle of the middle ages does, making a +prodigious screaming in the ears, filling one with horrible electric +thrills as the brake was jammed down. Neither conversation nor thinking +was possible. Nelly closed her eyes a little wearily in her corner. The +other people in the 'bus had stared as she got in at the fresh +daintiness of her attire, conspicuous in the dingy vehicle. Now, as she +leant back with closed eyes, the tired lines came out in her face. Mrs. +Rooke, from the other side of the 'bus, glanced at her with pitying +wonder.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" she thought to herself. "It isn't the Nelly Drummond I knew. +What has she been doing to herself? She must have been racketting a +deal. She doesn't look in the least like a happy bride should. Poor +child! I wonder if she is marrying against her will?"</p> + +<p>Arrived at Sherwood Square the lamb was brought down and displayed to +Bunny's delighted mother. Pat whistled for a hansom, and when the two +ladies were in he carried out the animal and placed it in front of them, +where it created some excitement in its passage through the street.</p> + +<p>Behold Nelly, then, presently seated on the nursery floor, winding up +the lamb for Bunny and forgetting all about her beautiful lavender +muslin frock. The mother and nurse stood by as eager as Nelly herself. +Bunny, indeed, was the least interested of the party. To be sure in the +wonder-world of Bunny's mind baa-lambs that went of themselves and +bleated were no great wonder, even though it was a pleasing novelty to +find one in his nursery. He was more excited over the reappearance of +Nelly herself and stood by her with one fat affectionate arm about her +neck in a contented silence. In vain his mother asked him if he wasn't +pleased.</p> + +<p>"He is always like that," she said at last. "We took him to the +Hippodrome and he only yawned, even when Seeth's lions came on. He +didn't take the smallest interest."</p> + +<p>"Begging your pardon, ma'am, that he did," the nurse interposed. "He +were flinging 'imself on his precious 'ead twenty times a day for a week +after. 'Twas a wonder he had any 'ead left, the precious lamb. Them +there dratted clowns, I don't 'old with them nohow!"</p> + +<p>The reconciliation between Bunny's mother and Bunny's friend and admirer +was complete by the time they went down to lunch. Nelly had begged for +Bunny's presence at the meal, and so the young monarch of all he +surveyed was seated opposite to her in his high chair, with a napkin +tucked under his chin, playing a fandango with a spoon and fork on the +little table in front of him. Bunny filled the lunch-hour, Bunny's +sayings and doings—there were not many of the former, but his mother +managed to extract gems of wit and wisdom from his taciturnity—Bunny's +likes and dislikes, Bunny's amazing development.</p> + +<p>Only once was Langrishe's name mentioned. He had sent home a beautiful +mug of beaten silver for Bunny. At the sound of his name Nelly's eyes +were suddenly startled: she caught her breath; the colour swept over her +face and ebbed away, leaving her paler than before.</p> + +<p>Presently the luncheon-hour was over and Bunny had been carried off for +his afternoon's outing. The half-hour or so in the drawing-room was +over. Nelly was drawing on her gloves, standing by the window which +over-looked the narrow slip of square, invisible now for the flowers on +the balcony. The fateful visit was nearly at an end and Godfrey +Langrishe's name had been mentioned only once.</p> + +<p>She had a wild thought that her one opportunity was slipping out of her +grasp. She had come here to have news of him. She must not come again. +She must try and forget that he existed till such time at least as she +could think of him calmly. Now she <i>must</i> know, she <i>must</i> hear, what +was happening to him away there at the end of the world.</p> + +<p>She glanced furtively around the pretty room, to which she would not +come again. It was as though she said farewell to its comfort and +pleasantness. She was not going to see Bunny and his mother again, not +for a long time at least. Her gaze came back to the window, pausing ever +so slightly on its way to glance at a portrait of Langrishe which hung +on the wall, a portrait painted in the days when he had been his uncle's +heir, by a great painter. She had been conscious all the time she had +been in the room of the presence of the portrait although she had not +looked its way. The picture had caught the quiet passion and intensity +of Godfrey Langrishe's gaze, as though he looked on deeds of glory and +fought his way towards them. The face was less stern than she remembered +it; it had yet some of the bloom and bonniness of his boyhood; +renunciation had not written its deeper meaning in lines about the lips +and eyes.</p> + +<p>She opened her mouth to speak of him, but at first no words would come. +The fastening of her glove took all her attention it seemed. She had +turned to the light for it, away from Mrs. Rooke's sympathetic glances.</p> + +<p>She had almost controlled her voice to speak without trembling when the +thing was taken out of her hands.</p> + +<p>"I must not let you go," Mrs. Rooke said, "without giving you a message +from Godfrey. A message and gift. It came a week ago. See—here it is. I +was going to post it to you." She took up a packet from the side-table.</p> + +<p>"How is he?"</p> + +<p>At last it was said. Nelly's hand closed over the little packet. She +would open it when she got home. To think that he remembered—that he +had chosen a gift for her! Was there a word with it, perhaps? Her first +letter—and her last letter—from him was lying perhaps in her hand.</p> + +<p>But what was it Mrs. Rooke was saying? She bent her ears greedily to +listen.</p> + +<p>"He was well when he wrote, but the letter was written some time ago. +Where he is, it is not easy to get letters carried in safety. One never +knows what may be happening. It is, of course, a terrible anxiety."</p> + +<p>The tears came into her eyes. There had been a little shadow over her +brightness even while she had watched Bunny. Nelly had been aware of it +dimly. What did she mean?</p> + +<p>"Anxiety!" Nelly repeated falteringly. "Why should you be anxious? He is +not ill, is he?"</p> + +<p>Her heart had sunk, heavy as lead. Her soul cried out in fear.</p> + +<p>"You know he is with the punitive expedition against the Wazees for the +murder of Major Sayers and his companions? You never can tell what +dreadful thing may be happening to him. It isn't possible you didn't +know? And I had been thinking you hardhearted! Ah!"</p> + +<p>Her arms went round Nelly.</p> + +<p>"It isn't possible you didn't know? <i>Don't</i> look like that! Do you care +so much as all that, Nelly? Why, then, why, in the name of Heaven, did +you let him go? Why are you marrying your cousin? My poor Godfrey!"</p> + +<p>She was conscious of a strident voice shouting the evening papers in the +street outside. Indeed, even while she spoke to Nelly, half her brain +was listening in a strained way to that voice as it came nearer. What +was it the creature was shouting? Before she could hear distinctly the +voice died away again in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Why did I let him go?" Nelly repeated after her. "Because, because, he +would not stay. He knew that I loved him, but he would not stay. He +never seemed to think of staying. When he had broken my heart it seemed +that I might as well make others happy. My father, Lady Drummond, my +cousin; they have been so good to me always."</p> + +<p>"But you were engaged to your cousin, weren't you, when Godfrey left?"</p> + +<p>Little Mrs. Rooke's dark eyes looked black in her frightened face.</p> + +<p>"You were engaged to your cousin, were you not, just as you are to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I never accepted my cousin till—till Captain Langrishe had gone. It +was understood that when we grew up we should marry to please our +parents if we saw nothing against it. No one would have wanted to bind +me if I did not wish to be bound."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rooke flung up her hands with a dramatic gesture.</p> + +<p>"Heaven forgive me, my poor Nelly, for it was I who sent Godfrey from +you! I told him you were engaged to your cousin. I had been told so +explicitly by Lady Drummond herself. How could I doubt that it was +true?"</p> + +<p>Nelly turned a white face towards her. Oddly enough, in spite of its +pallor the face had a certain illumination.</p> + +<p>"So he went away because of that. Only that stood between us. Do you +think I am going to let that—a lie, a mistake—stand between us? I am +going to break off my engagement, even at the eleventh hour."</p> + +<p>The daughter of the Drummonds had found the courage of her race. She +stared uncomprehendingly at the alarm in Mrs. Rooke's expression.</p> + +<p>"Don't do anything rash," the little woman said, in a frightened voice. +"Supposing Godfrey did not come back. Supposing——"</p> + +<p>Again there sounded in the distance the voices of the vendors of evening +papers. The voices came nearer, one, two, half a dozen of them. They +were all shouting together.</p> + +<p>"There must be some news," Mrs. Rooke said under her breath.</p> + +<p>"I shall come and see you to-morrow," Nelly said. "To-morrow I shall be +free to come and go where I like. Do you know that I was bidding this +room and you and Bunny a long good-bye five minutes ago? And if he never +comes back—well, he will know I waited for him."</p> + +<p>So preoccupied was she with her intention that she never noticed the +newspaper boys and men fluttering their Stop Press editions like the +wings of some birds of evil omen. As she sat in the hansom she drew the +engagement ring off her finger and dropped it into her purse. Then she +sighed, as though an immense burden had fallen from her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE NEWS IN THE <i>WESTMINSTER</i></h3> + + +<p>As Nelly's hansom drew up at her own door another hansom was just +turning away from it. She wondered with an impatient wonder who could +have come. At the moment she could not have endured any hindrance +between her and her project of telling her father that the engagement +with Robin was to come to an end. She was not in the least afraid of +what she had to do. The spirit of the Drummonds was thoroughly awake +now.</p> + +<p>Beyond her announcement to her father lay something vaguely painful +which at the moment she did not consider. She would have to tell Lady +Drummond and Robin, of course, and it would hurt them: they would be +angry with her. She was going to make a scandal, a nine days' wonder. +Her father would be grieved—angry, too, perhaps; but that could not be +helped either.</p> + +<p>And then—some resentment stirred in her heart against him for the first +time during all the years in which they had been together. He had kept +her in ignorance of her lover's peril. She was not a child that she +should have been kept in ignorance. For the moment she had no tender +excuses for him. If he had been candid with her, then all this trouble +about Robin might have been spared, for she could never have promised +herself as wife to another man while the one she loved was in daily and +hourly danger.</p> + +<p>She went into the house with a look of stern accusation on her young +face. The dogs came shrieking down the stairs in vociferous welcome as +usual, but she took no notice of them. Being old dogs and wise, they +recognised a forbidding mood in her, and retired with deprecating +wrigglings of their bodies.</p> + +<p>She asked Pat if there were a visitor in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"No, then, Miss, only the master. I can't make out what came over him at +all to be comin' home in a hansom."</p> + +<p>He was minded to tell her that the General was not looking himself, to +give her an affectionate, intimate warning; but she passed him by. He +stood watching her, holding the door open in his hand till she took the +bend of the staircase that hid her from his sight.</p> + +<p>"Bedad, the Dowager couldn't have done it better," he said, "shweepin' +by me without a 'By your l'ave, Pat'; and the master, callin' me +'Murphy' to my face, what he's never done since he left the rig'ment. I +wonder what's the matter with Pat. 'Twill be 'Corporal' next."</p> + +<p>Nelly looked into the drawing-room. Her father was not there. She turned +the handle of another door, the door of the General's own particular +den, and going in she found him.</p> + +<p>She never thought of asking herself how he came to be there at this hour +of the day, he who lived by rule, the click of whose latch-key had +sounded in the hall-door every evening at a quarter to seven as long as +she could remember. The clock on the mantelpiece pointed to ten minutes +to five.</p> + +<p>The General was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace as though he had +dropped into it on his entering the room. He was doing absolutely +nothing, and that was an alarming thing enough, if but she had noticed +it. A green evening paper was crumpled on his knee. If she had eyes to +see it there was calamity in his attitude and his looks. But she had no +eyes. She was too much absorbed in the thing she had to do.</p> + +<p>"What, Nell!" he said, getting up as she entered. "We must have come +home almost together. Where have you been, child?"</p> + +<p>To his own ear his voice rang false, but she did not notice it. She did +not meet his kiss. She did not see that he was looking at her with a +fearful apprehension.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Nell?" he stammered, noticing the alteration in her +looks.</p> + +<p>She came and stood beside him, seeming to tower above him.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, "I am not going to marry Robin. I want him to know +at once."</p> + +<p>"Not marry Robin!" This was something the General was unprepared for. +"Not marry Robin! God bless my soul, Nell! It's very late for you to say +such a thing—within three weeks of your wedding! And all the +arrangements made! What will people say? What will the Dowager say? You +can't play fast and loose with a man like that, Nell. Why, it will be +the talk of the town."</p> + +<p>He tried to work himself up to the old fretting and fuming, but there +was no heartiness in it. Under the projecting eyebrows his old +frostily-blue eyes had a scared look. But if he had been in such a +passion as he had shown on a certain historic occasion when the regiment +had nearly scattered before the approach of screaming Dervishes—a +passion which had rallied the men and won Sir Denis his V.C.—it would +have been all the same to Nelly.</p> + +<p>"All that is perfectly immaterial," she said. "I am sorry for Robin and +for Aunt Matilda. But all that will pass. I was mad to consent to the +marriage. I am only glad that I came to my senses in time."</p> + +<p>Was this Nelly?—this young, sure, inflexible creature! He stared at her +in utter amazement.</p> + +<p>"Supposing I were to say that you must go on now since you have gone so +far, Nell?" he said, and felt at the same time the futility of the +saying. "I never thought my girl would play so shabby a trick on +Gerald's son. You know that people will laugh at Robin?"</p> + +<p>"They won't. Robin is not the sort of person to be laughed at—at least, +not for long. Besides, if it is any consolation to you, father, I may +tell you that it will not hurt Robin much: Robin is not and never has +been in love with me."</p> + +<p>"What!" The General now was genuinely indignant. He had forgotten for +the moment his other perturbation, whatever it might be. "What do you +mean, Nell? Your cousin not in love with you! After all the years during +which you have been meant for each other! Impossible, Nell! Robin <i>must</i> +be in love with you."</p> + +<p>"He is not; he never has been. That is my consolation, so far as he is +concerned. Father, why did you keep from me the fact that Captain +Langrishe was fighting the Wazees? Why did you?"</p> + +<p>The General's colour deserted his cheeks once again.</p> + +<p>"Poor Langrishe! What was the good of letting you know, Nell? You used +to be—interested in the poor fellow."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't have kept it from me. I didn't read the newspapers, or I +should have known. Do you know why I didn't read them? Because if I had +I must have turned to the army news. I was fighting that as a +temptation. I was trying to drive him from my mind. I kept away from his +sister, although she had been kind to me; I went nowhere where I might +hear his name. Then to-day I met her by accident. I went home with her. +She told me—do you know what she told me?"</p> + +<p>"What, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"That her brother went away under the impression that I was engaged to +Robin Drummond. Aunt Matilda had told her so and she had told him. So +that is why he left me."</p> + +<p>"I see," the General groaned. "A nice lot of trouble has come out of +that scheme of your Aunt Matilda's for marrying you and Robin. I never +would agree to it; I used to say: 'Let it be till the children are old +enough to choose for themselves.' I wish I had taken a stronger stand. I +only wished for your happiness, Nell. I always liked poor Langrishe, and +felt I could trust him with even what I held dearest on earth. I did my +best for you, Nell. If I kept his danger from you, it was only that I +hoped to keep you from suffering like those other poor women."</p> + +<p>She did not notice the haggardness of his face, nor the repetition of +"Poor Langrishe." She was too much absorbed in getting to the root of +things. She was determined to know everything.</p> + +<p>"What happened when you went to Tilbury?"</p> + +<p>Was this young inquisitor his Nell?</p> + +<p>"I didn't see him. The boat had gone."</p> + +<p>"And I thought you had offered me to him, and that he had rejected me! +Oh, I know you would have done it in the most delicate way. There need +not have been a word spoken. But it would have been the same thing in +the end. I thought his love was not great enough to conquer his pride."</p> + +<p>"My train broke down, Nell; I came ten minutes too late. I thought the +hand of God was in it."</p> + +<p>"It was a mere accident. God had nothing to do with it. I am only +grateful that it has not ended worse. If I had married Robin and then +discovered these things——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say that you couldn't have forgiven me, Nell." The General took +out a big white silk handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. "Don't +say that you couldn't have forgiven me! I meant it all for the best. My +little Nell couldn't be hard with her old father."</p> + +<p>She stooped suddenly and caught his hand to her lips. She noticed with a +tender contraction of her heart that it was an old hand—knotted, with +purple stains.</p> + +<p>"I should be a brute if I could be angry with you," she said; and the +tenseness of her face relaxed to its old softness.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's right, Nell—that's right. We couldn't do without each +other. You've always your old father, you know—haven't you, dearie?—no +matter what happens. I'll stand by you, Nell. I'll take you away. No one +shall be angry with my Nell."</p> + +<p>"You are too good to me," she said. "And I've been angry with you! What +a wretch I was to be angry with you! On my way here I telegraphed to +Robin to come this evening. I must get it over. You shall take me away +if you will afterwards. I would stay and face it if it would do any +good, but it wouldn't. After all, there is no great harm done. Robin's +heart will not be broken."</p> + +<p>"And afterwards, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"Afterwards? Oh, you and I shall be together."</p> + +<p>"Yes; we did very well when we were together. Listen, Nell." He put his +arm about her. "I want you to be strong and brave. I came home to tell +you, lest you should hear by accident. His poor sister did not know——"</p> + +<p>The General's den looked out on the Square gardens. It was quite a long +way across them to the road; yet through the quietness of the golden +afternoon there came the shouting of the newsboys. It all flashed on +Nelly with a blinding suddenness. To be sure, they had been calling the +same thing while she stood with his sister and learned why he had left +her, only she had not known.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," she said, with an immense quietness. It was as though she +had known it always.</p> + +<p>"No; not dead, Nell—terribly wounded, but not dead. He is in English +hands."</p> + +<p>He stopped, shuddering. If he had been in those black devils' hands to +be tortured to death! He had been only saved by a sudden rush of his +men. Even his wounds would not have saved him from torture if God had +not delivered him out of their hands.</p> + +<p>"Show it to me."</p> + +<p>All of a sudden she saw the newspaper which had been lying crumpled on +his knee. That had contained the news all the time while they had been +talking about things that mattered so much less.</p> + +<p>He did not try to keep it from her. He turned over the paper and found +the page of it which had the latest news. There it was, with its staring +headlines. She seemed to have seen it just so, in another life.</p> + +<p>She read it through to the end. It had been an ambush. The small +detachment of troops had been led by the guide into the midst of a large +body of the enemy—it had been surrounded. Captain Langrishe had fallen, +as had a young lieutenant. The men had stood shoulder to shoulder, +fighting desperately. By the most desperate courage they had rescued the +bodies of their officers, which were being carried by the tribesmen into +one of their towers among the hills. They had fought their way back with +the bodies strapped to their horses. Lieutenant Foley proved to be dead. +He had been hacked and hewed with knives. Captain Langrishe had been +more fortunate; the life was still in him when the last intelligence had +been sent down. There was very little hope of his recovery.</p> + +<p>Nelly neither cried out nor fainted. When she had finished the reading +she laid down the paper quietly. Her father watched her in mingled +terror and relief. She was seeing it all—the rocky gorge with the +inaccessible hills on either side, filled in with scrub and low trees; +at the little neck of the gorge the dreadful tower; the small body of +Britishers fighting their way step by step backward; the dazzling blue +sky over all. Was Heaven empty that such things happened? She remembered +in a kind of daze that she had been at a garden-party that very +afternoon. She had worn for the first time her white silk frock with the +roses on it and she had seen in many eyes how well it became her. That +had happened in another world. A great gulf stretched between even the +events of the afternoon and this time—this time, in which she knew that +Godfrey Langrishe was dead or dying.</p> + +<p>"I wish he might have known," she said quietly, "that after all I was +not engaged to Robin."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE FRIEND</h3> + + +<p>Robin Drummond had heard from his cousin's own lips his dismissal. Her +father would have spared her, but Nelly would not hear of that and he +let her have her way.</p> + +<p>She told Robin everything in a dull, unmodulated voice, with a +dead-tiredness in it which revealed her unhappiness more eloquently than +words could have done. She stood by the mantel-shelf, holding one hand +over her eyes while she told him. When she had finished there was a +momentary silence.</p> + +<p>"You are not angry with me?" she asked, turning about and looking at him +with eyes of suffering.</p> + +<p>"My poor child! Could I have the heart to be angry with you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is right. You were always kind, Robin. I shouldn't have liked +you to be unkind now. You must win me your mother's forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"She will come round in time."</p> + +<p>He had an idea his mother would take it badly. But, of course, she would +have to come round. The whole bad business had been her fault in a way; +and if she was hard on Nelly, he felt like telling her so.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to think I have done you no great harm, Robin. Indeed, the +harm would have been in marrying you. I have realised for some time that +I was not essential to your happiness."</p> + +<p>He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He was not a +diplomatist.</p> + +<p>"I am very fond of you, Nelly," he said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know you are. So am I fond of you. It was not enough, of course; +I ought to have known better."</p> + +<p>"And I. I can't forgive myself, Nell, for having been in a way the cause +of the mischief. Take courage, dear. All may yet be well. God knows what +happiness is in store for you."</p> + +<p>"God knows," she echoed; but there was no assurance in her tone.</p> + +<p>The General, lying in wait for him, drew him into his own den. He put +his hand on Robin's shoulder, leaning heavily on it, like an old man +with his son.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for this, so far as it concerns you, my lad," he said. "But +my great trouble is for my girl. She is taking it too quietly. I don't +know what is happening—inside. One knows so little about women—how +they take those things. She ought to have a woman with her."</p> + +<p>"His sister. She is a good little woman, and she adores him. She would +be good to Nelly."</p> + +<p>"You can't go tearing off to people's houses at this hour of the +evening"—it was nine o'clock—"and asking them to come with you. To be +sure, the sister knows. I don't want Nell talked about."</p> + +<p>"Nor I. Let him come home well and then they can talk of the nine-days' +happy wonder. I'm going to the sister. If she fails, there is Miss +Gray."</p> + +<p>The General snatched at the idea.</p> + +<p>"She came to see Nell the other day and I liked her. I began with a +prejudice—I've no liking for women who take up the trade of politics. +Writing books, too! I'm glad my Nell doesn't write books. I shouldn't +like to see her name stuck up in the papers. But this Miss Gray of +yours. She overcame my prejudice. She looks clean, my lad, clean outside +and within. Nell's fond of her. The dogs pawed her as if they had known +her all her life. I trust a dog's judgment. She didn't mind it either, +though she was fresh as a daisy. What do you propose to do? To ask her +to come round and see Nell to-morrow, if the sister fails? You can't +very well ask her to come to-night."</p> + +<p>He looked wistfully at Robin.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gray often works late," the other said, consulting his watch. "If +she is at home, why shouldn't she come back with me? She may be out, of +course; the world has begun to run after her. She is not much attracted +by the world, but she gives kindness for what she takes to be kindness. +She is not conventional. If she feels she is wanted she won't mind +coming in at ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"I believe Nell would talk to her," the father said eagerly. "If Nell +would talk to someone my mind would be at rest. Poor Nell! The purpose +of my life was to keep her from pain and sorrow."</p> + +<p>He went back to his room shaking his old head, and Robin Drummond went +out into the night. He drove first to Mrs. Rooke's house, and found the +mistress absent. She had gone off to an old mother who had to be +consoled.</p> + +<p>Fortunately it was not far to Mary Gray's little flat, not more than ten +minutes' hansom drive. He told the driver to wait while he ran up the +stone steps. To his relief, when he had rung the bell at the white door +he heard someone stirring within. Mary herself opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Forgive my coming at this hour," he began apologetically. Even as he +spoke he remembered that he had had a chance of seeing those little +rooms that held Mary and had relinquished it on that bygone Good Friday. +He looked enviously beyond Mary herself to the glimpse of lamplit room. +He could see a white wall with pictures on its panels, a bit of a dwarf +bookcase, a chair drawn to a table heaped with books, a green-shaded +reading-lamp. Against the lighted background Mary's cloudy hair stood +out illumined.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It is my cousin. She is in great trouble. I will explain to you as we +go along. Can you come to her? Her father is anxious about her."</p> + +<p>She was a woman in ten thousand. She asked no questions, although it +occurred to him that it must seem odd to her that she should be +summoned, that Nelly should be in great trouble, seeing that he and her +father were well.</p> + +<p>"Shall I stay the night?" she asked. "Your cousin was so very anxious +that I should come and stay with her. She showed me the room I should +have—next to hers. Sir Denis seconded the invitation warmly. I said +that I would try to come."</p> + +<p>"It will be the best thing in the world. How long will you take to get +ready? I have a hansom at the door."</p> + +<p>"Five minutes."</p> + +<p>She came down the stairs in four and a half minutes. Robin had been +expeditious; it yet wanted twenty minutes to ten by his watch.</p> + +<p>He helped her into the hansom, got in himself and placed her little bag +at their feet. The hansom turned up the hill. She waited for him to +speak.</p> + +<p>"Nelly has found out that she made a mistake," he said quietly. "Her +heart was not given to me, but to a Captain Langrishe of her father's +old regiment. News has come that he has been badly wounded, so badly +that in all probability he is dead by this time. He had exchanged into +an Indian regiment, and almost as soon as he got out he was sent into +the hills on the business of this wretched little war. Those conquests +of ours, what they cost us! Why should we have all those thousands of +miles of frontiers to defend? Why can't we stay at home and let the +territories be for their own people?"</p> + +<p>She smiled quietly to herself in the corner of the cab. The sudden +excursion into politics was so characteristic of him.</p> + +<p>The wind of the summer night came cool and friendly in their faces. The +blue heaven was studded with stars. A little half-moon hung above the +quiet shadows of the square through which they were passing. For the +stillness they might have been miles away from London.</p> + +<p>"What a Don Quixote you are!" she said. "I believe you would cede India +if you had your way."</p> + +<p>"I believe I should. Don't you wonder at me, Miss Gray? My forbears +devoted their existence chiefly to extending the boundaries of the +British Empire. Am I not their degenerate descendant?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're a fighting man in other ways. You don't mind facing a +hostile audience and saying unpalatable things to them. Mr. Ilbert says +you'll have to fight for your seat at the next election."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be bothered with a seat I hadn't to fight for. All the same, +I'm obliged to Ilbert for his interest in my affairs. Do you know that +he referred to me as a Little Englander the other night, as though there +were only one way of loving one's country and that to rob other people +of theirs?"</p> + +<p>His tone was an offended one. The name of Ilbert seemed to have power to +irritate him. He resented the idea that Ilbert had talked to Mary of +him, disparaged him; he supposed she saw Ilbert often. The idea was +exceedingly distasteful to him.</p> + +<p>"He has the highest opinion of your honesty and capacity, your +patriotism too," Mary said.</p> + +<p>He did not want Ilbert's commendation; he hated that Mary should quote +his opinions. He lay back in the hansom, staring before him, and his +expression was one of unmixed gloom. Even her neighbourhood had no power +to cheer him, although at first he had had a sensation of delight in her +nearness to him, the perfume as of flowers that hung about her, the soft +folds of her dress which he had touched in the darkness.</p> + +<p>They were driving along Sherwood Square now. Across the square itself +Robin could see the lit windows of the General's house. Their time +together was short, he thought; and perhaps the same thought occurred to +Mary, for she touched his sleeve with a gesture of sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Will you let me say," she said, "how sorry I am for the pain and +trouble this must be to you?"</p> + +<p>"You mean, because Nelly has—has chucked me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I mean that."</p> + +<p>For a moment he looked down in silence. He wondered if he had any right +to tell the truth. Would it not be like a disparagement of Nelly if he +were to confess that he had never loved her? A memory floated into his +mind. It was of Lady Agatha Chenevix and something she had said to him +once at a dinner-party.</p> + +<p>"When I must be indiscreet——" she had begun. "Yes?" he had answered +laughingly. "When was your ladyship ever anything but indiscreet? and +who has made indiscretion adorable like you?" Her ladyship had bidden +him hold his tongue with frank camaraderie, and had finished the speech. +"When I am indiscreet, I am indiscreet to Mary. She is like a little +well, into which one drops one's indiscretions and puts the lid on." "A +very clear, transparent, honest well," he had said.</p> + +<p>After the momentary pause he lifted his head. The rest of the world +might think him heartbroken if it would; he wanted Mary to know the +truth.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact, Miss Gray," he said, "Nelly has not broken my +heart. She had always been very dear to me, like a dear little sister. +There was a time when I felt that it would be quite easy to fall in with +my mother's plan and marry Nelly. But I had come to the conclusion that +my feeling for her was not enough for marriage, before that time in the +spring when my mother intimated to me that Nelly was ready to fulfil her +engagement. I never considered it an engagement. I was actually about to +make things clear when that intimation was given to me. Then, I was led +to believe that Nelly had taken it as binding. What could I do only go +on? If Nelly cared for me—I confess that I ought to have known it to be +an unlikely thing—then my great concern in life was that Nelly should +not suffer. It was all a pretty bad mistake, but I am glad it has gone +no further."</p> + +<p>He heard something like a sigh, so faint that he could be hardly sure he +heard it. It was, in reality, Mary's thanksgiving and great relief; a +burden which had lain at her heart for months past taking wings to +itself and flying away. She had not acknowledged to herself that cold +doubt about Robin Drummond, who had seemed to come so near to her, while +all the time he belonged to another woman. She had pushed away the doubt +with loyal refusal to hear it; but it had been there all the time. Now +it was gone for ever. There was no more need of excuses or explanations +to her own heart.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for telling me," she said.</p> + +<p>They were at the house-door and the hansom had pulled up. They went up +the steps between the couchant lions and before they could knock Pat had +opened the door, as though he had been listening for them.</p> + +<p>"Miss Nelly is in the drawing-room, sir," he said in his privileged +Irish way; "but the master has just gone into the study."</p> + +<p>They went up to the drawing-room. Nelly was sitting in a chair by the +open window as Robin had left her, tearless, her unemployed hands lying +in her lap. The circle of dogs about her watching her with anxious eyes +would have been humorous in other circumstances. The lamps were lit +behind her, but there was no light on her face, except the dying light +in the pale western sky.</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a visitor, Nelly," Robin said.</p> + +<p>She looked up indifferently. Then something of interest stirred in her +face.</p> + +<p>"You have heard what has happened?" she said in a half-whisper.</p> + +<p>Mary knelt down beside her and put her arms round the little frozen +figure.</p> + +<p>"Why, you are cold!" she said. "Come away from the window. I am going to +ask for a fire, and then you will talk to me about it."</p> + +<p>Robin Drummond left them together, and went down to tell Pat to light +the fire in the drawing-room, because Miss Nelly was cold.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>THE ONE WOMAN</h3> + + +<p>Mary Gray's loving, capable care and sympathy carried Nelly through the +worst days of her trouble. There were times when Mary had to hold the +girl's hands, to fight with all her might against the acute suffering +which menaced for a time her sanity and her health. The horrors into +which Nelly fell when she thought upon the things which happened in such +wars as this with cruel and cunning savages, were the worst things to +fight. There were hours in which all the fears of the world seemed to be +let loose on the unhappy child, when it seemed impossible to vanquish +those powers of darkness with one poor woman's love and prayers. During +these days Mary Gray hardly left Nelly's side. Fortunately she had +ceased to direct the Bureau, and another capable, much more +common-place, young woman had taken up her task. The official +appointment was on its way, but had not yet arrived. So she was free to +devote herself to her friend.</p> + +<p>The doctor whom Sir Denis called in could do little for the patient +except prescribe sleeping draughts to be taken at need. He understood +that the girl had had a shock. He suggested a change, but Nelly would +not hear of that. She must stay on in London where the first news would +come. So stay on they did, through the torrid heats of July, when the +dust was in arid drifts on the Square green gardens and blew in through +the open windows, powdering everything with its faint grey.</p> + +<p>"This young lady is better than my prescriptions," the doctor said +handsomely of Mary Gray. And added, "Indeed, what can we do for sorrow +except give the body a sedative?"</p> + +<p>"If she could face her trouble clear-eyed," Mary said, "I should feel +glad in spite of everything. It is these mists and shadows in her mind +that it is so hard to fight against."</p> + +<p>After a little while they were left pretty well to themselves in +Sherwood Square. The Dowager was angry with Nelly as her son had +anticipated; and, after a scene with Robin which prevented a scene with +Sir Denis, she had gone off over the sea to the Court. Everybody went +out of town: even Sherwood Square emptied itself away to the sea and the +foreign spas. Only Robin Drummond stayed in town and came constantly. +During the early days when Nelly kept the house and refused obstinately +to go out of doors, he would leave Sir Denis in charge and carry Mary +off for a walk in the Square.</p> + +<p>The first sign of interest that Nelly showed in other things than her +sorrow was when she indicated to her father the distant figures of Mary +and Robin moving briskly along at the farther side of the Square.</p> + +<p>"Do you notice anything there, papa?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my pet?"</p> + +<p>Sir Denis was quite flurried at Nelly's suddenly coming out of her +brooding silence.</p> + +<p>"I mean Mary and Robin," she answered. "It has been borne in on me that +that is why Robin was not in love with me. Poor Robin! He would have +gone through it heroically. Never say again, papa, that he is not a true +Drummond. And I should never have known if he could have helped it that +I wasn't the only woman for him."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say, Nell, that Robin is in love with Miss Gray?"</p> + +<p>"That is it, papa."</p> + +<p>The General turned very red. For a second his impulse was towards wrath; +then he checked himself.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, as you didn't want him, Nell, it would be the height of +unreasonableness to expect poor Robin to be miserable for your sake. And +Miss Gray is a fine creature—a fine, handsome, clever creature. Still, +there is a great difference in their positions. It will be a blow to the +Dowager."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ilbert would not have minded."</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul! You don't mean to say that Miss Gray could have had +Ilbert?"</p> + +<p>"She has refused him, but I don't think he has given up hope."</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul! Why, the Ilberts are connected with half the +peerage. We Drummonds are only country squires beside them. Such a +handsome fellow too, and with such a reputation! Why should she refuse +Ilbert? Is the girl mad?"</p> + +<p>"Robin was first in the field. But I happen to know that Mary refused +Mr. Ilbert while yet Robin and I were engaged. What do you think of +that?"</p> + +<p>"Madder and madder. I don't understand women, Nell. Such a fellow as +Ilbert! Why, he might marry anybody. We must make it easy for them with +the Dowager, Nell—as easy as we can. We owe a good deal to Miss Gray."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she'll come round—she'll have to come round."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose they understand each other, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think Robin has spoken. He seems to be waiting for something. I +have only noticed the last day or two. Before that I was absorbed in my +troubles—such a selfish daughter, papa."</p> + +<p>"My darling, we have all felt with you. It is so good to see you more +yourself, Nell."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" She turned away her head. "I have a feeling—there is no reason +for it at all—that good news is coming. I felt it when I awoke this +morning."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Robin Drummond and Mary had the Square almost to themselves, +except for a gardener or two. All around the Square were shuttered and +silent houses. It was the most torrid of early August days, and +presently the heat drove them to a sheltered seat beneath a tree. In the +mist of heat around them the bedding-plants, the scarlet geraniums, the +lobelia and beet, made a vivid glare. Only in the forest trees, too +dense for the dust to penetrate, were there shadow and relief.</p> + +<p>They were talking of Nelly.</p> + +<p>"She will be all right now," Mary said. "She has come out of the +darkness. Even if she has his death to bear I think she will bear it. +She reproaches herself for the pain she has caused her father."</p> + +<p>"Poor Uncle Denis! He lives in terror about Nelly. She is all he has had +since her mother died."</p> + +<p>"I think he may rest easy now. Nelly is not going to die—not even of +grief. Now that she is better, Sir Robin, why don't you go away? I know +your yacht is waiting for you, and you have got the London look; you +want change."</p> + +<p>"I shan't go till there is news one way or another."</p> + +<p>"There ought to be news soon. It is hard on you waiting from day to +day."</p> + +<p>"I don't feel it hard. Perhaps if the good news came I might induce them +to come away with me on the yacht. It would be the best thing in the +world for them. For the matter of that, why don't you go away? You also +have the London look."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall go gladly when I may. I am really longing to be off. Do you +know what I shall hear when I go over there?—a sound I am longing for."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The rain. I close my eyes now and fancy I hear it pattering on the +leaves. Oh, the music of it! One is never long without it at home. We've +had six weeks without rain here. Can't you imagine the soft, delicious +downpour of it? The music of the rain—my ears hunger for it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now indeed I see that it is time you went. You will probably have +enough of the rain."</p> + +<p>He spoke gloomily, and she laughed.</p> + +<p>"It will probably rain all the time I am there. And I shall be able to +forgive it because of its first delicious moments."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" He asked the question almost roughly.</p> + +<p>"I am going to be with my father, in a mean, little two-storied house of +six rooms. At least, it is mean outwardly; but no house could be mean +inside where he lived and spread his light. He will have to be at his +work every day till he gets his fortnight's holiday in September. If I +get away in, say, a fortnight's time, I shall help my stepmother about +the house while he is at business all day; I shall have a thousand +things to do. They have only one servant; and my stepmother and sisters +do the greater part of the work. They would treat me like a queen when I +go over there, if I would let them; but I never do let them. I love +dusting, and cooking, and mending, and helping the little ones with +their lessons. Then as soon as my father is free I am going to carry +them off to a hotel I know between the mountains and the sea. It is a +big, old-fashioned house, and there is a lovely garden, full of roses +and lilies, and phlox and stocks and hollyhocks and mignonette and sweet +peas. I stayed there once with dear Lady Anne. We shall all have a +lovely time. There is a trout-stream at the end of the garden and the +trout sail by in it. There are hundreds of little streams running down +from the mountains. They make golden pools in the road and they hang +like gold and silver fringes from the crags that edge the road."</p> + +<p>There had been a deliberation in what she told him about the little +house. But she was mistaken if she thought to surprise him. He was +picturing her there at her domestic duties and thinking that no small or +mean surroundings could dwarf her soul's stature. Hadn't the hideous +official room that held her been heaven to him?—the singing of the +naked gas-jets the music of the spheres?</p> + +<p>"It will be a great change from London," he said.</p> + +<p>"I am going back to the old days. I have refused to see any of my fine +new friends. The Ilberts will be staying over there with the Lord +Lieutenant at the same time. I have forbidden Mr. Ilbert to call."</p> + +<p>Again his mood changed to one of unreasonable irritation. What had she +to do with the Ilberts, or they with her?</p> + +<p>"If I find myself over there I shall certainly call," he said, with an +air of doggedness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, then, you shall," she said merrily. "<i>You</i> won't +embarrass us, not even if we have to ask you to dinner."</p> + +<p>An hour or two later the good news came, brought by Mrs. Rooke in +person. Captain Langrishe could hardly yet be considered out of danger, +but he lived; he had been sent down in a litter to the nearest station, +where there were appliances and comforts and white people all about him, +outside the sights and sounds of war, beyond the danger of recapture by +the enemy.</p> + +<p>Nelly bore the better news well: she had been prepared for it, she said. +Seeing her so quiet, Mrs. Rooke brought out a scrap of blue ribbon cut +through and blood-stained. It was in a little case which had been hacked +through by knives. It had been sent home to her at the first when there +was no hope, when, practically, Godfrey Langrishe was a dead man.</p> + +<p>"It is not mine, my dear," she said to Nelly, "and I think it must be +yours. I did not dare show it to you before."</p> + +<p>Nelly went pale and red. Yes, it was her ribbon, which had fallen from +her hair that morning more than a year ago when Captain Langrishe had +ridden by with the regiment and the wind had carried off her ribbon.</p> + +<p>She received it with a trembling eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is mine," she said. "I knew he had it. He showed it to me +before he went away."</p> + +<p>"How furious Godfrey will be when he misses it!" Mrs. Rooke said. +"Somebody will be having a bad quarter of an hour. And now, Nelly, when +are you going to be well enough to come to see my mother? She longs to +know you. She is the dearest old soul. She wanted me to bring you to her +while yet we were in suspense. But I waited for news, one way or +another."</p> + +<p>"I should love to go," Nelly said.</p> + +<p>"She has a room in a gable fitted up for you; the windows open on roses. +The place is full of sweet sounds and sights. All through this trouble +her thoughts have been with you. Will you come?"</p> + +<p>"If papa can spare me."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall ask him, and we can go down on Saturday. Won't he come for +the day? When you know my mother I am going to leave you there with her. +Poor Cyprian is off to Marienbad and I must go with him. He's dreadfully +afraid of losing his figure. A fat lawyer, he says, is the one +unpardonable thing. Will you look after my mother?"</p> + +<p>The General was only too glad to give his consent to the plan which had +brought the colour to Nelly's cheek and the light to her eye. After +leaving Nelly in Sussex he and Robin would go down to Southampton, get +out the yacht and cruise about the coast till Nelly felt inclined for a +longer run.</p> + +<p>So Mary Gray was free to go. She went out in the afternoon, leaving +Robin to look after his cousin. The General had gone off to the club +with a lighter heart than he had known for many a month. Robin had +suggested a drive, but Nelly would not hear of that. She was going to +save up her pleasure, she said, for Sussex and Saturday. She consented +to walk in the Square, where she had not been for quite a long time. He +noticed that she looked delicate and languid and his manner to her was +very tender. In fact, a new under-gardener in the Square, who was very +susceptible to romance, put quite an erroneous interpretation on Robin's +manner to his cousin, and hovered in their vicinity with eager curiosity +till he was pulled up sharply by one of his superior officers.</p> + +<p>"So we are all going to scatter, Nell," Drummond said, half regretfully.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him.</p> + +<p>"Poor Robin! It was too bad, keeping you in town."</p> + +<p>"I haven't minded it at all, I assure you, Nell. Indeed, I couldn't have +gone happily while you were in suspense."</p> + +<p>"Robin," she said suddenly, "what are you waiting for?"</p> + +<p>He started. "Waiting for?" he repeated. "What do you mean, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"You're not going to let Mary go without speaking to her?" Under her +light shawl her hand felt for and held the locket which contained the +blood-stained blue ribbon. "Haven't you waited long enough? I believe +she would wait an eternity for you, but don't try her. Speak now."</p> + +<p>"My dear Nell," he stammered, "it is only a fortnight or so from the day +that should have been our wedding day."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking as much. What have you had in your mind? Some foolish +Quixotic notion. What were you waiting for?"</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, Nell, till you should be happy."</p> + +<p>"Don't take the chances of letting her go away without telling her. Do +you think I haven't known that you were in love with her all the time? +Why, that first day I saw her I said to myself in amazement, 'Where were +his eyes that he could have chosen you before her?'"</p> + +<p>"Nelly, how do I know that she will look at me?"</p> + +<p>"She will never look at anyone else. Speak now, if only in fairness to +the men who might be in love with her, who are in love with her and may +have false hopes."</p> + +<p>"She won't look at me, Nell."</p> + +<p>"She has sent Mr. Ilbert about his business, but he will not let her be. +He says that so long as she is not anybody else's she may yet be his. I +didn't want to betray him, but I must make you understand."</p> + +<p>Poor Ilbert! For a moment Drummond's mind was filled with a lordly +compassion towards him. Ilbert rejected! And for him! To be sure, he +knew Mary cared for him. She was not the girl to have admitted him to +the intimacy of last winter unless she cared. She had borne with him +exquisitely. She had even taken her successful rival to her breast. He +had made her suffer, the magnanimous woman.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he took fire. He had been a slow, dull fellow, he said to +himself, and quaked at the thought that Ilbert might have robbed him of +his jewel. Now, he felt as though he must follow her, and make her his +without even the possible mischances of a few hours of absence.</p> + +<p>"She comes back to dinner?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She comes back to tea," his cousin answered, "and you have made me +tired, Robin. I am going to rest till tea-time."</p> + +<p>They went back to the house and Nelly left him in the drawing-room while +she went away to her own room. He knew that she was giving him his +opportunity and was grateful for it. How could he have been so mad as to +think of letting Mary go away with nothing settled between them?</p> + +<p>He walked up and down restlessly, while the dogs watched him in +amazement from their cushions. It was a topsy-turvy world in which the +dogs found themselves of late. They had almost reached the point of +being surprised at nothing. It was lucky the carpet was so faded and +shabby, for of late the General had worn a path in it with his restless +movements; and now here was his nephew behaving as though he were an +untamed creature in a cage and not a sober, serious legislator.</p> + +<p>At last he heard her knock, and her light foot ascending the stairs. She +looked surprised to find him alone and asked rather anxiously for Nelly.</p> + +<p>"You didn't let her get over-tired?" she asked, apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"No; we walked very little. She said she would rest till tea-time. Well, +have you packed?"</p> + +<p>"I have put my things together. I am going to ask to be allowed off +to-morrow. I shall sleep at the flat to-morrow night, if they can spare +me, and be off the next morning."</p> + +<p>"You are glad to be free?"</p> + +<p>"Very glad. I was also glad to stay. And you?"</p> + +<p>He rose up to his awkward length from the chair into which he had +dropped on hearing her knock and went close to her.</p> + +<p>"I shall never be free again in this world," he said. And then, with a +change of tone: "Do you suppose I am going to let you go over there a +free woman?"</p> + +<p>He drew her almost roughly to him.</p> + +<p>"I have always loved you," he said.</p> + +<p>"And I," she answered, "I have loved you since I was sixteen."</p> + +<p>"My one woman!" he cried in a rapture.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>GOLDEN DAYS</h3> + + +<p>The time went peacefully with Nelly and the mother in the little house +among the Sussex woods. And presently, since Nelly showed no indication +of wishing to join them, and could not be spared indeed, and since Robin +was plainly ill at ease yachting up and down the coast, the General +declared his intention of going off to a grouse-moor in Scotland, rented +by an old friend, over which he had shot year after year for many years +back.</p> + +<p>On hearing of this sudden change of plans Robin expressed a polite +regretfulness, but the General looked at him with twinkling eyes—he and +Robin had come to be on the best of terms of late—and bade him be off +to Dublin without any confounded hypocrisy about it.</p> + +<p>"You've been wishing me anywhere, my lad, this last week or two except +aboard the <i>Seagull</i>," he said. "Not but what you've borne with me—oh, +yes, you've borne with me; a lad of my own couldn't have done more: and +now you've earned your reward."</p> + +<p>So the General went off northward for what was left of the grouse +season. Later, he was to go into Sussex for the partridge and pheasant +shooting, not so far from where Nelly was living in a state of blissful +peace, with excellent reports of Langrishe's recovery coming by every +mail.</p> + +<p>And be sure, the <i>Seagull</i> spread her white wings and flew, as fast as +wind and wave could carry her, across the Irish Sea.</p> + +<p>Sir Robin presented himself unannounced at the little house in Wistaria +Terrace, where the youngest but two of the Miss Grays opened the door +half-way to him, and was visibly alarmed at the sound of his title.</p> + +<p>The little house smelt of cookery, perhaps of washing, although doors +and windows were open. But little Robin Drummond cared for that. Beyond +the demure child who had admitted him he caught sight of Mary sitting on +the shabby little grass-plot, in a wicker-chair, with a Japanese +umbrella over her head. And roses could not have been sweeter than the +atmosphere.</p> + +<p>The simplicity which belonged to his character came out in his dealings +with Mary's family. Walter Gray came home to find his daughter's grand +lover stretching his long figure on the grass at her feet, while the +smaller Grays, their shyness quite departed, rolled and tumbled over him +as confident as puppies. To be sure Walter Gray, with his disbelief in +distinctions of rank as otherwise than accidental, was not unduly elated +by the fine company in which he found himself. He looked hard and long +at Robin Drummond as hand met hand. Then a bright look of reassurance +came over his face. He could trust even Mary to the owner of those eyes.</p> + +<p>They discovered a deal in common later on as they walked, with Mary for +a third, in the long twilight and early moonlight. Walter Gray imparted +his secret thoughts as to a spiritual brother. His dreams, his +aspirations, his Utopia of a world as he would have made it, he laid +bare to Robin Drummond in his slow, easy talk, with a hand through his +arm.</p> + +<p>"He was born to be a great man," Robin Drummond said to Mary later, in a +generous enthusiasm, "and he shall not miss his vocation. He must have +leisure and ease. When we are married he shall have a corner of the +Court to himself, and he shall put his dreams into black and white. I +know the room; it looks into an elm-tree, and the owner of the room has +the key to the birds' secrets. There is an oriel window, and in the room +is a little old organ, yet wonderfully sweet. You shall play to him when +he lacks inspiration."</p> + +<p>"He could do better with the young ones about him and the mother +grumbling placidly in his ear," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Then they shall have the Cottage. It is within the walls and looks to +the mountains. It is a roomy old place and has a big overgrown garden of +its own."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he will take it from you?"</p> + +<p>"He will have to," said the lover.</p> + +<p>Then they went back to supper: and he was introduced to Gerald, the +young bank-clerk, whose mind was not yet cured of the fever for the sea, +who had a roving eye in his smooth young face; and Marcella, the eldest +one of the young Grays, who was a typist in the same employment as her +father. And though at first the young people were shy of Mary's lover +they were quickly at home with him. The fine breeding of Walter Gray had +passed on, to some extent, to every one of his children.</p> + +<p>"It will be my privilege to look after them," Robin Drummond said to +Mary. "As for the lad, he will never be a financier. He is too old for +the Navy, but why should he not learn the seaman's trade on the yacht? +He has a pining look which I don't altogether like."</p> + +<p>"It will be said that you are marrying all my people," Mary said +uneasily.</p> + +<p>"We shall not hear it said," her lover answered placidly. "We shall be +out of hearing of that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>When their friendship had the ratification of weeks upon it he broached +the matter of the cottage to Walter Gray. They were walking together as +they usually did of evenings; and Walter Gray walked with a stick, +leaning on him, with the other hand thrust through his arm. He had a +groping way of walking, which Drummond had noticed and ascribed to his +abstraction from the things about him. After Drummond had unfolded his +plans there was a silence, during which he watched Walter Gray +curiously. Was he going to refuse, as Mary had suggested?</p> + +<p>They were near a lamp on the suburban road which stood up in the boughs +of a lime, making a green flame of the tree. Walter Gray pulled up +suddenly and lifted his eyes to the light.</p> + +<p>"Do you notice anything?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Drummond peered down into the eyes. Yes, there was a slight film upon +the pupil of one.</p> + +<p>"Cataract," said Walter Gray cheerfully. "I shall never be fit for my +work any more, even if an operation should be successful. Marcella +knows. Good girl, she has kept her own counsel. I have not been working +for some time at the watches. Mr. Gordon, kind soul, continues my +salary. I have been learning type-writing against the days that are to +come. I confess I have a desire to write a book. I have saved nothing, +Sir Robin Drummond. How is it possible, with fifty shillings a week and +eight children? I have no pride about accepting your offer. If my scrip +is empty and yours is full I don't object to receiving from a +fellow-pilgrim what I should give if our cases were reversed."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is right," said Robin Drummond. "As for cataract, in its early +stages it is easily curable. Sir George Osborne——"</p> + +<p>"I will do whatever you and Mary wish. But I anticipate blindness. I +shall not mind very much if I have the light within. There will be the +book to solace my age; and after a time I shall not be so helpless."</p> + +<p>The Dowager came round after all sooner than was expected. The +reconciliation was hastened by a letter she received from Mrs. Ilbert +congratulating her on her prospective daughter-in-law. "My poor +Maurice," she wrote. "I don't mind telling you, dear Lady Drummond, that +Maurice was head-over-ears in love with your charming and distinguished +daughter-in-law that is to be. The boy takes it very well, says that the +better man has won, which is exactly like Maurice. Since your son has +chosen a political career I congratulate him on having such a woman as +Miss Gray by his side. She will be a force in political life, so says +Maurice. And she will be the noblest inspiration. Though I am grieved +that she is to be your son's Egeria and not mine yet I offer you and Sir +Robin my heartiest congratulations. I may add that I also congratulate +the party to which your son belongs."</p> + +<p>Lady Drummond had rubbed her eyes over this letter. Congratulate +<i>her</i>—was it possible?—on being the prospective mother-in-law of Mary +Gray, the daughter of a man who worked for his living at repairing the +insides of watches! She, the widow of a hero, a rich woman of social +importance! Congratulate <i>her</i> and Robin and Robin's party! And not one +word of congratulating Mary Gray! Was Caroline Ilbert mad?</p> + +<p>However, the thing impressed her. It worked by slow degrees into her +mind. She had listened often to such foolish heresies as that which +declared brains more important than rank or wealth. In a general way she +had not dissented. Brains were very important. Gerald had thought a good +deal of brains. If he had lived he had meditated a book on Napoleon's +Wars. She had often met writing and painting and musical people in her +friends' drawing-rooms. They had not appealed to her nor she to them. +But she had grown accustomed to their presence there and to meeting them +on an equality to which in her heart she had never subscribed.</p> + +<p>However, she had the wisdom to see that there was no use in holding out +against her son and to console herself with the idea that Mary was going +to be a personage, even apart from the incredible social promotion of +marrying Sir Robin Drummond. So she actually reached the point of coming +in person to Wistaria Terrace to make a formal recantation of her +opposition to the marriage, and to take Mary to her imposing, +black-bugled breast.</p> + +<p>To be sure the little house had almost driven her back from its +threshold. She filled the small shabby hall, she fell over the brushes +left by the general servant who had been scrubbing the oilcloth, not +expecting her ladyship; she sat uncomfortably on the green rep chairs of +the drawing-room staring at a Berlin-wool banner-screen which +represented a poodle with beads for his eyes, at the silver shavings in +the grate, and the school drawings, finished by the nuns, of the younger +Misses Gray. There were certain aspects of that drawing-room dear to +Mrs. Gray which Mary had been too tenderhearted to try to alter.</p> + +<p>There Mary had found her and had been moved in her innermost humorous +sense; but she had been glad to be friends with Robin's mother, and so +had done her best to advance the reconciliation.</p> + +<p>Lady Drummond had a surprising proposal to make. It seemed that her +friend, Lady Iniscrone, had placed at Miss Gray's disposal for the +wedding the big house on the Mall formerly occupied by Lady Anne +Hamilton. Lady Iniscrone wrote that they had heard of Miss Gray from a +friend of Lady Agatha Chenevix, and had felt interested in her progress +ever since. Of course, remembering the tie which had existed between +Lord Iniscrone's aunt and Miss Gray, Lord and Lady Iniscrone could never +be without interest in Miss Gray's progress.</p> + +<p>Mary smiled a smile of fine humour over the reading of the letter. At +first she was in the mood to refuse. But, being her father's daughter, +and so endowed with that sense of the comedy as well as the tragedy of +life which makes it easy to regard things and persons equably, she +consented at last. She would have preferred to be married from Wistaria +Terrace, but she had no difficulty in making a concession to Robin's +mother.</p> + +<p>So the wedding-breakfast was spread in the dining-room where she and +Lady Anne used to have their meals together. Mrs. Gray held a terrified +reception of the few fine folk whom Lady Drummond had declared it +necessary to ask in the long drawing-room with the three windows where +Lady Anne used to sit with little Fifine in her lap.</p> + +<p>Mary had wished to be married from the poor little house where she had +grown up, but on her wedding day she felt that she had done as Lady Anne +would have wished. There was nothing changed in the house: the +old-fashioned substantial furniture, the faded carpets and curtains, +were just the same. There were one or two familiar faces among the +servants. After all, Lord and Lady Iniscrone had used the house little, +since Lord Iniscrone had developed a chest affection which kept him +following the sun round the world for three-fourths of the year.</p> + +<p>The marriage had taken place earlier at the big, dim old church behind +which Wistaria Terrace hid itself away, and the few fine folk were not +bidden to the wedding but to the reception. A great many glittering +things were spread out on the tables in the long drawing-room. It was +surprising how many well-wishers the new Lady Drummond seemed to have in +the great world. Sir Denis Drummond had come over for the wedding, and +Nelly was a bridesmaid, with Mary's type-writing sister, Marcella. She +was a different Nelly from her of a couple of months earlier, her +delicacy gone, her old pretty bloom come back, her eyes bright as of +old.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Langrishe wants me to return to her!" she confided to Mary, "but +we are going to Sherwood Square. You know, <i>he</i> is on his way home. In a +week or two he will be on the sea. He must come to me, not find me there +waiting for him. Do you know, Mary, that though his mother and sister +have taken me to their hearts, he has not written me a line? You don't +suppose, Mary, that he could be going to keep silence <i>now</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Mary. "Seeing what you have suffered for him——"</p> + +<p>"He must never know that," Nelly said, with gentle dignity, "until he +has spoken. What should I do, Mary, if he never spoke? But I think +everyone would keep my secret, even his sister and mother. I asked them +not to speak of me in their letters. I am in suspense, Mary."</p> + +<p>"It will not be for long," the happy bride assured her. As though she +were wiser than another in knowing the way of any particular man with +any particular maid!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>THE INTERMEDIARY</h3> + + +<p>Some time in December Captain Langrishe came home.</p> + +<p>Nelly knew the day and the hour that he was expected, but she was as +terrified of meeting him as though she had not had so much assurance of +his love for her. She knew the events of the day as though she had been +present at their happening. Cyprian Rooke's brother, a young, +distinguished doctor well on his way to Harley Street although only a +few discriminating people had found him out, had gone down to +Southampton with Mrs. Rooke and her mother to meet the invalid, who even +yet must bear traces of the terrible illness through which he had +passed. Nelly could see it all, from the moment the big boat came into +Southampton Docks till the arrival in London. Captain Langrishe was +going down to his sister's cottage in Sussex. The mother and sister, who +already claimed Nelly as their own, had been eager for her to be there +on their arrival, or to come later. But Nelly was adamant.</p> + +<p>"He must come to me," she said. "And I think the one thing I could not +forgive is that anyone should interfere: <i>anyone</i>, even you two whom I +dearly love. Promise me that you will not."</p> + +<p>They had promised her. They were women of discretion; and they felt that +now he was come back to them things might safely be left to take their +own course. To be sure, as soon as he could he would go to Nelly as to +his mate, naturally, joyfully. In an early letter, written before +Nelly's embargo, Mrs. Rooke had told him that Nelly's engagement had +been broken off. Later, she had conveyed the news that Robin Drummond +had consoled himself with rapidity, and was to be married to the Miss +Gray whose book on the conditions of women's labour among the poor had +made such a stir, and not only in political circles. Godfrey Langrishe +in his letters had not commented on these communications.</p> + +<p>"Let Godfrey be!" said the sister, who knew him with the thoroughness of +a nursery companion. "He will do his own wooing. He would not thank us +for doing it for him."</p> + +<p>All next day Nelly waited. After the very early morning she did not dare +go outdoors lest he should come in her absence. The General went off to +his club to be out of the way. At a quarter to seven he opened the door +with his latch-key and came in, more than half-expecting to find an +overcoat which did not belong to him in the hall. There was none; and he +went on to the drawing-room with a vague sense of disappointment. +Langrishe must have been and gone.</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room he found Nelly alone.</p> + +<p>"Well, papa," she said, as he came in, and offered no further remark.</p> + +<p>"No one been, Nell?" he asked, with a little foreboding.</p> + +<p>"No one."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, to be sure the boat must have arrived late. They may not have +got back to town till to-day."</p> + +<p>The next day passed in the same way, and the next day. The fourth day +Nelly went out and did her Christmas shopping. She held her head high +now, in a spirited way which hurt her father to see, for her face was +very pale. That evening she put on a little scarlet silk dinner-jacket, +in which the General declared that she looked every inch a soldier's +daughter. But the brilliant colour only made her look paler by contrast.</p> + +<p>On the fifth day the General, instead of going to his club, went to see +Mrs. Rooke and fortunately found her at home. He hardly knew the little +woman, but she was a friend of Nell's and had been good to her. Besides, +he was so bent upon getting to the root of the business about Langrishe +and Nell that he felt no embarrassment on the subject of his errand.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, bowing over Mrs. Rooke's pretty hand—he had a +charming way with women—"I have come without my daughter knowing. +Perhaps she would never forgive me if she knew. Tell me: what is the +mystery about your brother? Why has he not been to see us?"</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you came to ask me, Sir Denis," Mrs. Rooke replied. "I was +just about to go to Nelly. Godfrey is so obstinate. The doctors cannot +say yet if he is going to be a cripple or not. His sword-arm was almost +slashed through. Jerome Rooke, my brother-in-law, says it will be all +right. On the other hand, Sir Simon Gresham shakes his head over it. +Godfrey is to see him again in a few weeks' time. He is waiting for his +verdict before he speaks to Nelly. My opinion is that if the verdict is +adverse he will never speak at all."</p> + +<p>"Why, God bless my soul, then!" shouted the General in his most +thunderous voice, "he must speak before! he must speak before! +Everything must be settled. They shall hear Sir Simon's verdict +together."</p> + +<p>Those people had been right who had called Sir Denis unworldly. Mrs. +Rooke blinked her pretty eyes before his outburst.</p> + +<p>"You know, of course, Sir Denis, that his profession will be closed to +him in case his arm doesn't get well. Godfrey has always felt that he +had too little to offer your daughter. But now—it will be a maimed life +if the worst happens. Both my mother and I appreciated Godfrey's +reasons. We could not say that he was not right. Poor Godfrey! I don't +know what he will do if he loses his profession. You know he was devoted +to his work."</p> + +<p>"I know, ma'am." The old soldier's eye lit up with a sudden spark. "In +any case, with the help of God, he will have Nell to comfort him. Your +brother's address is——"</p> + +<p>"You are going to him?"</p> + +<p>"It seems the one thing to do. I've no pride about offering my girl +where I know she is deeply loved."</p> + +<p>"You are a trump, General!" Mrs. Rooke said, with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, ma'am," the General answered, blushing like a school-boy. "I +was never one to sit with folded hands. The Lord didn't make me like it. +And I've asked His direction, ma'am; I've asked His direction humbly, +and I hope humbly that He is granting it to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, God speed you!" Mrs. Rooke said. "Godfrey will be good to Nelly, +Sir Denis. He has always been so trustworthy. And he has had so many +hard knocks. He deserves happiness in the end."</p> + +<p>"He shall have it, with the help of God."</p> + +<p>The General never made any forecast without the latter proviso, although +that was often said only in the silence of his heart.</p> + +<p>The railway journey, unlike the last made in the cause of Nelly's +happiness, went without a hitch. The day was a beautiful, bright, +sunshiny one, with clear skies overhead. The General had the carriage to +himself, so that he was able to sit with both windows open as he liked +it. He felt the winter air quite invigorating as the train rushed +through the pale golden landscape. Robins were singing in the bare +trees, which showed their every twig outlined delicately against the +pale sky. The brown coppices and hedges by which the train hurried were +bright with the scarlet of many berries.</p> + +<p>The General, sitting up spare and erect—he had never lolled in his +life, and held all such soft ways only suitable for ladies—contrasted +the journey with the last; and took the radiant day like a good omen. He +wished Nell could have been with him to have the roses blown in her +cheeks by the delicious fresh wind. However, he was going to bring her +home roses, pink roses; the white rose in his Nelly's cheek did not at +all please him.</p> + +<p>The little house was quite near the railway, a gabled, two-storied +cottage with diamond-paned windows, and creepers and roses all over its +walls. Even yet on the sheltered side there was a monthly rose or two on +the leafless bushes. The house basked in the sun; and Mrs. Langrishe's +red-and-white collie came to meet the General, wagging his tail with a +friendly greeting.</p> + +<p>The maid who opened the door smiled on him. She knew him for Miss +Nelly's father; and Nelly had a way of making herself beloved by +servants wherever she went, and not only because she was ready always to +empty her little purse among them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Langrishe? Mrs. Langrishe was out, but was expected in to lunch. +The Captain had just come in. Would Sir Denis see him?</p> + +<p>Sir Denis would see the Captain. He followed the maid through the clean, +orderly little house, every inch of it shining with the perfection of +cleanliness, to the study at the back which opened on the garden. +Captain Langrishe was sitting in a chair in a dejected attitude at the +moment the General first caught sight of him. He sprang to his feet, +turning red and pale when he saw who his visitor was.</p> + +<p>"Well, my lad," the General said, taking the uninjured left hand in a +cordial grip. "And how do you feel?"</p> + +<p>Langrishe looked up at him with shy eyes.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, Sir Denis, not very cheerful. I have been, in fact, +keeping company with the blue devils pretty well since I came home. You +know——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. We must hope for the best. But, if you can't carry a sword +any longer, why it must mean that the Master of us all has another post +for you. And now, why didn't you come to Sherwood Square?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't, with this in suspense," Langrishe stammered. "It is most +kind of you to come to see me."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy," the General put his hand on Langrishe's shoulder, "you +must come, with this in suspense. Do you know that my girl has looked +for you day after day?"</p> + +<p>The young man flushed and stared at the General's kind face in +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"I would rather die than cause her a minute's pain," he said, with quiet +fervour.</p> + +<p>"You have caused her a good many," the General said grimly. "Not +willingly, I am sure of that, or I wouldn't be here. Haven't you heard +how she suffered? Why, God bless my soul, I was afraid at one time that +I might be going to lose her; and all through you, young man—all +through you. Now I'll have no more shilly-shally. If Nell is fond of you +and you are fond of Nell——"</p> + +<p>"God knows how I love her!" Langrishe cried out, a glow of passion +lighting up his worn, dark face. "But you don't understand, Sir Denis. I +feel sure you don't understand. I have nothing in the world but my +sword. My uncle, Sir Peter, gave me that. He gave me nothing else. Lady +Langrishe, who nursed my uncle through an attack of the gout before he +married her, has just presented him with an heir. I have no hopes from +my uncle. If I lose my sword-arm I lose everything. I am likely to lose +my sword-arm, Sir Denis."</p> + +<p>"Whether you do or whether you do not is in the hands of God," the +General said. "I don't think Nell will mind very much if your sword-arm +is ineffectual or not. You've done enough for honour, anyhow. And I'm +not going to betray any more of the child's secrets. You'd better come +and hear them yourself. I'll tell you what: come on Christmas Day. Come +to lunch and bring your bag with you. I daresay you won't want to cut +your visit short?"</p> + +<p>"You really mean it, Sir Denis?"</p> + +<p>"Mean it, my lad? I've meant it for a long time. I've watched your +career, Langrishe. I know pretty well all about you. You'd never give me +credit for half the cunning I've got." The General rubbed his hands +softly together and tried to look Machiavellian, failing ludicrously in +the attempt. "There's no man I would more willingly trust my girl to. +Why, I went after you to Tilbury when you were going out—to find out +what you meant. I'll tell you about it."</p> + +<p>For the moment the General forgot completely how he had man[oe]uvred in +the second place to marry Nelly to Robin Drummond. In fact, he didn't +remember about it till he was going home, and then, after a momentary +shamefacedness about his unintentional disingenuousness, he decided, +like a sensible man, that there was no use talking about that now.</p> + +<p>Before that time, however, he had lunched with Mrs. Langrishe and her +son after a talk with the latter. Now that he had succeeded in breaking +down the lover's scruples, Godfrey Langrishe was only too anxious to +fling himself into the next train and be carried off to his love. But +the General would not have it so, though he was pleased at the young +man's impatience.</p> + +<p>"It wants but five days to Christmas Day," he said. "Come then. You can +spare him, ma'am?" to Mrs. Langrishe.</p> + +<p>"I have had to spare him for less happy things," the mother responded +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>There was no happier old soldier in all his Majesty's dominions than was +Sir Denis Drummond on his homeward journey. In fact, he found himself +several times displaying his gratification so evidently in his face that +people smiled and looked significantly at each other. One lady whispered +to another of the Christmas spirit.</p> + +<p>It was by a stern effort of his will that he composed his face as he +went up the stairs of his own house. He didn't deceive Pat, who had +admitted him—for once the General had forgotten his latch-key. Pat +reported to Bridget:</p> + +<p>"Sorra wan o' me knows what's come to the master; he's gone up the +stairs, and the heart of him that light that his foot is only touchin' +the ground in an odd place."</p> + +<p>"'Twill be somethin' good for Miss Nelly then," Bridget replied sagely.</p> + +<p>The General schooled his face to wear an absurdly transparent look of +gloom as he entered the drawing-room, but it was quite wasted on Nelly, +who didn't look at him. She had a screen between her face and the fire +as she sat in her fireside chair, and her little pale, hurt, haughty +profile showed up clearly against the peacock's feathers of the screen.</p> + +<p>The General had meant to have some play with Nell, but that forlorn look +of hers went to his heart.</p> + +<p>"I saw Langrishe to-day, Nell," he said. "He's coming for Christmas. We +can put him up—hey?"</p> + +<p>"Papa!"</p> + +<p>He heard the incredulously joyful half-whisper, and he felt the pang +that comes to all fathers at such a moment. Nell was not going to be +only his ever again. He had been enough for her once on a time; yet, +here she was, come to womanhood, breaking her heart for a stranger.</p> + +<p>"If I were you, Nell," he said gently, "I'd be seeing about my +wedding-clothes."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>NOEL! NOEL!</h3> + + +<p>Captain Langrishe arrived only just in time for lunch on the Christmas +Day. By the time he had been shown his room and had deposited his bag +and returned to the drawing-room it was time for the luncheon-bell.</p> + +<p>The meeting between Nelly and himself would have seemed to outsiders a +cold one. To be sure, it took place under the General's eye. One might +have supposed that the General would have absented himself from that +lovers' meeting, but as a matter of fact he did not. Nelly's flush, the +shy, burning look which Langrishe sent her from his dark eyes, were +enough for the two principals. For the rest, all seemed to be of the +most ordinary. No one could have supposed that for the two persons +mainly concerned this was the most wonderful Christmas Day there ever +had been since the beginning.</p> + +<p>During lunch Langrishe talked mainly to the General. They had plenty to +talk about. The General found it necessary to apologise to Nelly for +"talking shop," an apology which was tendered in a whimsical spirit and +received in the same. Pat, waiting at table, quite forgot that he was +Sir Denis Drummond's manservant, listening to the stirring tale; and was +once again Corporal Murphy, back in "th' ould rig'mint." In fact, he +once almost forgot himself so far as to put in an eager comment, but +fortunately pulled himself up in time. He mentioned afterwards to +Bridget that the Captain's talk had nearly brought him to the point of +"joinin'" again. "Only that I remembered that at last you'd consinted to +my spakin' to Sir Denis I couldn't have held myself in, Bridget, my +jewel," he said. "But the thought of gettin' kilt before ever I'd made +you Mrs. Murphy was too much for me."</p> + +<p>There was considerable excitement in the servants' hall over Captain +Langrishe's presence. Pat, of course, knew all about him since he +belonged to "th' ould rig'mint"; but it was through Bridget's feminine +perspicacity that it broke on the amazed couple that it was for him Miss +Nelly had been breaking her heart all the time.</p> + +<p>"It 'ud do you good," said Pat, "to see the way she carries her little +sojer's jacket, and the holly berries on her pretty head like a crown."</p> + +<p>To be sure, the younger ones of the servants' hall were talking too, and +they even approached Pat, who outside the duties of his office was not +awesome, for the satisfaction of their curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Just wait," said Pat oracularly, "an' ye'll see what ye'll see."</p> + +<p>The speech meant nothing to Pat's own mind except that they would be all +wiser later on. However, it went nearer the mark than he had intended.</p> + +<p>The afternoon of Christmas Day was always the occasion for a Christmas +Tree. Everyone in the house was remembered in the distribution of +presents, even the dogs. The tree was set up in the servants' hall and +the General had never omitted to distribute the presents himself in all +the years they had been at Sherwood Square. He had mentioned the tree to +Langrishe at lunch, apologising for asking his assistance at so homely +an occasion. His eye twinkled as he said it; and rather to Nelly's +bewilderment the young man blushed like a girl. Apparently he had heard +of the Christmas Tree before, for he made no comment.</p> + +<p>After lunch the lovers were a little while alone. Sir Denis had his +secrecies about the Tree, gifts which had to go on at the last moment +and to be placed there by himself. When he came back to the drawing-room +he was aware from the looks of the young couple that everything had been +satisfactorily arranged between them. He looked as cheerful himself as +anyone could desire. While he put those last touches to the Tree he had +been thinking how good it was that he was going to have his children to +himself, no troublesome Dowager with her claims and exactions to come +between them. For a long time to come, anyhow, Langrishe must be off +active service; and they would all be together in the kind, spacious old +house. And presently there would be Nelly's children. Please God he +would live to deck the Tree for the delight of Nelly's children! It was +the thought of the golden heads of the little lads and lasses yet to be +dancing about the Tree that brought the dimness to his eyes, the look of +happy dreams to his face.</p> + +<p>The Tree was far from being a perfunctory, haphazard affair. Everything +had been thought out and planned beforehand. The servants sat in a +circle with eager, expectant faces. In front of them was a circle of +dogs. The dogs' presents were not much of a novelty. A new collar for +one, a new basket for another, a medal for the oldest of the dogs; the +possible gifts were very soon exhausted, but they made hilarity, and the +dogs barked as they received their gifts as though they understood and +enjoyed it all, as no doubt they did.</p> + +<p>There was a delightful sensation for the servants' hall when the gold +watch which had been hanging near the top of the tree was handed down, +and its inscription proved to be: "To Bridget Burke, on the occasion of +her marriage to Patrick Murphy, with the affection and esteem of the +master and Miss Nelly." The servants' hall broke into cheers. They had +all known that there was something between Bridget and Pat, but the +thing had hung fire so long that it might well have hung fire for ever. +Pat's present was a ten-pound note for the honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs. +Murphy were to have a fortnight together after their marriage in some +seaside place, before settling down to their old duties. Sir Denis had +made Pat the offer of a cottage in the country, but this Pat had +refused, to his master's great relief. "Sure, what would you do without +me?" he said. "I was thinking the same myself," responded the General.</p> + +<p>The General had it in his mind that presently, when those children came, +it might be necessary to give up Sherwood Square and live in the country +for their sakes. A little place in Ireland now, the General thought, +where there was always plenty of sport and good-fellowship. However, +that might wait. But the thought was a sweet one, to be turned over in +the old man's mind.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the present took odd shapes. There was a young housemaid whose +eyes were ringed about with black circles, eyes pale with much weeping. +Her mother was ill among the Essex marshes, and the only chance for her +life, said the doctors, was to get her away to a mild, bracing place for +some months. Bournemouth would do very well. Bournemouth? Why, Heaven +was much more accessible, it seemed, than Bournemouth for the poor +mother of many children.</p> + +<p>"Emma Brooks," said the General. "I wonder what's in this envelope for +Emma Brooks."</p> + +<p>Poor Emma came up, smiling a wavering smile that was on the edge of +tears. She took the envelope, peered within it, and then cried out, "Oh, +God bless you, sir!" It contained a letter of admission to a +convalescent home at Bournemouth for six months, and the money for the +expenses of getting there. "It's my mother's life, sir," cried Emma. +"You shall go home to-morrow, my girl, and take her there," said the +General. "I'll pay whatever is necessary."</p> + +<p>At last the Tree was stripped of nearly everything but its candles and +its bright dingle-dangles. There was a little basket at the foot of the +Tree addressed to the General, which had been moving about in a peculiar +way during the proceedings, and had been a source of much fascinated +interest to the dogs. On its being opened a fat, waddling, brindle +bull-dog puppy sidled himself out of a warm bed, and made straight for +the General's feet. A puppy was something Sir Denis never could resist, +and though there were already several dogs at Sherwood Square, all +desperately jealous at the moment and being held in by the servants, he +discovered that he had wanted a brindled bull-dog all his life.</p> + +<p>"But what is that," he asked, "up there at the top of the Tree? Why, I +was near forgetting it. Come here, Pat, you rascal, and hand it down to +me. It's a pretty, shining thing for my Nelly, as bright as her eyes. +Hand it down to me, Pat. I want to put it on her pretty neck."</p> + +<p>The gift was a beautiful flexible snake of opals in gold, with diamonds +for its eyes and its forked tongue, such a jewel as the heart of woman +could not resist. The General himself clasped the ornament on Nelly's +neck, where it lay emitting soft fires of milky rose and emerald.</p> + +<p>There was a little pause. The Tree seemed to be finished. The women-folk +began to clear their throats for the <i>Adeste Fideles</i> with which the +festivity concluded. Afterwards there was to be a glass of champagne all +round.</p> + +<p>The pause, however, was a device of the General's to give more effect to +what was to follow. Captain Langrishe had been standing apart, his shy +and modest air commending him the more to the women who thought him so +handsome and the men who knew him for heroic; for had not Pat sung his +praises? And to be sure, the women's hearts swelled at beholding a hero +taking part in their own particular festivity of the year, a hero that +is to say with his heroism brand-new upon him and from the outside +world, so to speak. They were so accustomed to a hero for a master all +the year round, that in that particular connection they hardly thought +upon him.</p> + +<p>"I believe, after all," said Sir Denis, as though he were talking to +children—it was his way with women and children and dependents and +animals—"I believe there's something for my girl which she'll think +more of than anything else. It's hidden just down here at the foot of +the Tree, and might very easily be over-looked if one didn't know +beforehand that it was there. Captain Langrishe, will you give this +little packet to my Nelly? It's your gift. She'll like it from you."</p> + +<p>Langrishe came forward, looking radiantly happy and handsome, and +wearing withal that look of becoming shyness. He extracted from +somewhere near the roots of the Tree a white paper-covered packet, very +tiny and tied with blue ribbon, which he undid with quick, nervous +fingers. When he had laid the covering aside it revealed itself as a +little ring-case. Opening it, he took out a beautiful old-fashioned +ring, a large pearl surrounded by diamonds. He held it for a second +between his fingers; and turning round he went to Nelly's side and +taking her hand lifted it to his lips. Then he slipped the ring on to +her third finger.</p> + +<p>"My dear friends," said the General in an agitated voice, "I am very +happy to announce to you the engagement of my daughter to Captain +Langrishe."</p> + +<p>At that the cheering broke out, led by Pat. As the dogs joined in, and +even the brindle puppy added his shrill note, there was the happiest, +merriest uproar lasting over several minutes, during which the General +stood, looking proudly from the shy and smiling lovers to those +dependants whom he had really made his friends.</p> + +<p>And at last, when the pause came, the General spoke:</p> + +<p>"And now, my friends," he said, "to show that God is not forgotten in +our happiness and in our grateful hearts, we will sing the <i>Adeste +Fideles</i>."</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Gray, by Katharine Tynan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY GRAY *** + +***** This file should be named 20201-h.htm or 20201-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/2/0/20201/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + +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. 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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: Mary Gray + +Author: Katharine Tynan + +Release Date: December 27, 2006 [EBook #20201] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY GRAY *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + + + + + + + + + MARY GRAY + + BY KATHARINE TYNAN + + +_Author of "Julia," "The Story of Bawn," "Her Ladyship," "For Maisie," +etc., etc._ + + +WITH FOUR COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. H. TAFFS + +[Transcriber's note: This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project. Only the Frontispiece was +included in the scans.] + + +CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED +London, Paris, New York, Toronto and Melbourne +1909 +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +[Illustration: "The men would salute their old General, the General +salute his old regiment"] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I. Wistaria Terrace + + CHAPTER II. The Wall Between + + CHAPTER III. The New Estate + + CHAPTER IV. Boy and Girl + + CHAPTER V. "Old Blood and Thunder" + + CHAPTER VI. The Blue Ribbon + + CHAPTER VII. A Chance Meeting + + CHAPTER VIII. Groves of Academe + + CHAPTER IX. The Race with Death + + CHAPTER X. Dispossessed + + CHAPTER XI. The Lion + + CHAPTER XII. Her Ladyship + + CHAPTER XIII. The Heart of a Father + + CHAPTER XIV. Lovers' Parting + + CHAPTER XV. The General has an Idea + + CHAPTER XVI. The Leading and the Light + + CHAPTER XVII. A Night of Spring + + CHAPTER XVIII. Halcyon Weather + + CHAPTER XIX. Wild Thyme and Violets + + CHAPTER XX. Jealousy, Cruel as the Grave + + CHAPTER XXI. Two Women + + CHAPTER XXII. Light on the Way + + CHAPTER XXIII. The News in the _Westminster_ + + CHAPTER XXIV. The Friend + + CHAPTER XXV. The One Woman + + CHAPTER XXVI. Golden Days + + CHAPTER XXVII. The Intermediary + + CHAPTER XXVIII. Noel! Noel! + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"The men would salute their old General, the General salute his old +regiment" + +"Sir Robin Drummond had come to Mary's side, and turned the page of +her music" + +"'Do you know what I came here in the mind to ask you?'" + +"'Miss Nelly is in the drawing-room, sir'" + + + + +MARY GRAY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WISTARIA TERRACE + + +The house where Mary Gray was born and grew towards womanhood was one of +a squat line of mean little houses that hid themselves behind a great +church. The roadway in front of the houses led only to the back entrance +of the church. Over against the windows was the playground of the church +schools, surrounded by a high wall that shut away field and sky from the +front rooms of Wistaria Terrace. + +The houses were drab and ugly, with untidy grass-plots in front. They +presented an exterior of three windows and a narrow round-topped +hall-door which was a confession of poverty in itself. Five out of six +houses had a ramping plaster horse in the fanlight of the hall door, a +fixture which went with the house and was immune from breakage because +no one ever thought of cleaning the fanlights. + +In the back gardens the family wash was put to dry. Some of the more +enterprising inhabitants kept fowls; but there was not much enterprise +in Wistaria Terrace. + +Earlier inhabitants had planted the gardens with lilac and laburnum +bushes, with gooseberries and currants. There were no flowers there that +did not sow themselves year after year. They were damp, grubby places, +but even there an imaginative child like Mary Gray could find +suggestions of delight. + +Mary's father, Walter Gray, was employed at a watchmaker's of repute. He +spent all his working life with a magnifying glass in his eye, peering +into the mechanism of watches, adjusting the delicate pivots and springs +on which their lives moved. His occupation had perhaps encouraged in him +a habit of introspection. Perhaps he found the human machine as worthy +of interest as the works of watches and clocks. Anyhow, in his leisure +moments, which were few, he would discuss curiously with Mary the hidden +springs that kept the human machine in motion, the strange workings and +convolutions of it. From the very early age when she began to be a +comfort and a companion to her father, Mary had been accustomed to such +speculations as would have written Walter Gray down a madman if he had +shared them with the grown people about him rather than with a child. + +Mary was the child of his romance, of his first marriage, which had +lasted barely a year. + +He never talked of her mother, even to Mary, though she had vague +memories of a time when he had not been so reticent. That was before the +stepmother came, the stepmother whom, honestly, Walter Gray had married +because his child was neglected. He had not anticipated, perhaps, the +long string of children which was to result from the marriage, whose +presence in the world was to make Mary's lot a more strenuous one than +would have been the case if she had been a child alone. + +Not that Mary grumbled about the stepbrothers and sisters. Year after +year, from the time she could stagger under the weight of a baby, she +had received a new burden for her arms, and had found enough love for +each newcomer. + +The second Mrs. Gray was a poor, puny, washed-out little rag of a woman, +whose one distinction was the number of her children. They had always +great appetites to be satisfied. As soon as they began to run about, the +rapidity with which they wore out their boots and the knees of their +trousers, and outgrew their frocks, was a subject upon which Mrs. Gray +could expatiate for hours. Mary had a tender, strong pity from the +earliest age for the down-at-heel, over-burdened stepmother, which +lightened her own load, as did the vicarious, motherly love which came +to her for each succeeding fat baby. + +Mary was nurse and nursery-governess to all the family. Wistaria Terrace +had one great recompense for its humble and hidden condition. It was +within easy reach of the fields and the mountains. For an adventurous +spirit the sea was not at an insuperable distance. Indeed, but for the +high wall of the school playground, the lovely line of mountains had +been well in view. As it was, many a day in summer Mary would carry off +her train of children to the fields, with a humble refection of bread +and butter and jam, and milk for their mid-day meal; and these occasions +allowed Mrs. Gray a few hours of peace that were like a foretaste of +Paradise. + +She never grumbled, poor little woman, because her husband shared his +thoughts with Mary and not with her. Whatever ambitions she had had to +rise to her Walter's level--she had an immense opinion of his +learning--had long been extinguished under the accumulation of toils and +burdens that made up her daily life. She was fond of Mary, and leant on +her strangely, considering their relative ages. For the rest, she toiled +with indifferent success at household tasks, and was grateful for having +a husband so absorbed in distant speculations that he was insensible of +the near discomfort of a badly-cooked dinner or a buttonless shirt. + +The gardens of the houses opened on a lane which was a sort of +rubbish-shoot for the houses that gave upon it. Across the lane was a +row of stabling belonging to far more important houses than Wistaria +Terrace. Beyond the stables and stable yards were old gardens with shady +stretches of turf and forest trees enclosed within their walls. Beyond +the gardens rose the fine old-fashioned houses of the Mall, big Georgian +houses that looked in front across the roadway at the line of elm-trees +that bordered the canal. The green waters of the canal, winding placidly +through its green channel, with the elm-trees reflected greenly in its +green depths, had a suggestion of Holland. + +The lane was something of an adventure to the children of Wistaria +Terrace. There, any day, you might see a coachman curry-combing his +satin-skinned horses, hissing between his teeth by way of encouragement, +after the time-honoured custom. Or you might see a load of hay lifted up +by a windlass into the loft above the stables. Or you might assist at +the washing of a carriage. Sometimes the gate at the farther side of the +stable was open, and a gardener would come through with a barrowful of +rubbish to add to the accumulation already in the lane. + +Through the open gateway the children would catch glimpses of Fairyland. +A broad stretch of shining turf dappled with sun and shade. Tall +snapdragons and lilies and sweet-williams and phlox in the garden-beds. +A fruit tree or two, heavy with blossom or fruit. + +Only old-fashioned people lived in the Mall nowadays, and the glimpses +the children caught of the owners of those terrestrial paradises fitted +in with the idea of fairyland. They were always old ladies and +gentlemen, and they were old-fashioned in their attire, but very +magnificent. There was one old lady who was the very Fairy Godmother of +the stories. She was the one who had the magnificent mulberry-tree in +her garden. One day in every year the children were called in to strip +the tree of its fruit; and that was a great day for Wistaria Terrace. + +The children were allowed to bring basins to carry away what they could +not eat; and benevolent men-servants would ascend to the overweighted +boughs of the tree by ladders and pick the fruit and load up the +children's basins with it. Again, the apples would be distributed in +their season. While the distribution went on, the old lady would stand +at a window with her little white dog in her arms nodding her head in a +well-pleased way. The children called her Lady Anne. They had no such +personal acquaintance with the other gardens and their owners, so their +thoughts were very full of Lady Anne and her garden. + +When Mary was about fourteen she made the acquaintance of Lady Anne--her +full name was Lady Anne Hamilton--and that was an event which had a +considerable influence on her fortunes. The meeting came about in this +way. + +Mary had gone marketing one day, and for once had deserted the shabby +little row of shops which ran at the end of Wistaria Terrace, at right +angles to it. She had gone out into the great main thoroughfare, the +noise of which came dimly to Wistaria Terrace because of the huge mass +of the church blocking up the way. + +She had done her shopping and was on her way home, when, right in the +track of the heavy tram as it came down the steep descent from the +bridge over the canal, she saw a helpless bit of white fur, as it might +well seem to anyone at a distance. The thing was almost motionless, or +stirring so feebly that its movements were not apparent. Evidently the +driver of the tram had not noticed it, or was not troubled to save its +life, for he stood with the reins in his hand, glancing from side to +side of the road for possible passengers as the tram swept down the long +incline. + +Mary never hesitated. The tram was almost upon the thing when she first +saw it. "Why, it is Lady Anne's dog!" she cried, and launched herself +out in the roadway to save it. She was just in time to pick up the +blind, whimpering thing. The driver of the tram, seeing Mary in its +path, put on the brakes sharply. The tram lumbered to a stoppage, but +not before Mary had been flung down on her face and her arm broken by +the hoof of the horse nearest her. + +It was likely to be an uncommonly awkward thing for the Gray household, +seeing that it was Mary's right arm that was injured. For one thing, it +would involve the dispossession of that year's baby. For another, it +would put Mrs. Gray's capable helper entirely out of action. + +When Mary was picked up, and stood, wavering unsteadily, supported by +someone in the crowd which had gathered, hearing, as from a great +distance, the snarling and scolding of the tram-driver, who was afraid +of finding himself in trouble, she still held the blind and whimpering +dog in her uninjured arm. + +She wanted to get away as quickly as possible from the crowd, but her +head swam and her feet were uncertain. Then she heard a quiet voice +behind her. + +"Has there been an accident? I am a doctor," it said. + +"A young woman trying to kill herself along of an old dog," said the +tram-driver indignantly. "As though there wasn't enough trouble for a +man already." + +"Let me see," the doctor said, coming to Mary's side. "Ah, I can't make +an examination here. Better come with me, my child. I am on my way to +the hospital. My carriage is here." + +"Not to hospital," said Mary faintly. "Let me go home; they would be so +frightened." + +"I shan't detain you, I promise you. But this must be bandaged before +you can go home. Ah, is this basket yours, too?" + +Someone had handed up the basket from the tram-track, where it had lain +disgorging cabbages and other articles of food. + +"I will send you home as soon as I have seen to your arm," the doctor +said, pushing her gently towards his carriage. "And the little dog--is +he your own? I suppose he is, since you nearly gave your life for him?" + +"He is not mine," said Mary faintly. "He belongs to Lady Anne--Lady Anne +Hamilton. She lives at No. 8, The Mall. She will be distracted if she +misses the little dog. She is so very fond of it." + +"Ah! Lady Anne Hamilton. I have heard of her. We can leave the dog at +home on our way. Come, child." + +The Mall was quite close at hand. They drove there, and just as the +carriage stopped at the gate of No. 8, which had a long strip of green +front garden, overhung by trees through which you could discern the old +red-brick house. Lady Anne herself came down the gravel path. Over her +head was a little shawl of old lace; it was caught by a seed-pearl +brooch with an amethyst centre. She was wearing a quilted red silk +petticoat and a bunched sacque of black flowered silk. She had +magnificent dark eyes and white hair. Under it her peaked little face +was the colour of old ivory. She was calling to her dog, "Fifine, +Fifine, where can you be?" + +A respectable-looking elderly maid came hurrying after her. + +"I've looked everywhere, my lady, and I cannot find the little thing," +she said in a frightened voice. + +Meanwhile, the doctor had got out of the carriage and had taken Fifine +gently from Mary's lap. Now that Mary was coming to herself she began to +discover that the doctor was young and kind-looking, but more careworn +than his youth warranted. He opened the garden gate and went up to Lady +Anne. + +"Is this your little dog, madam?" he asked. + +"My Fifine, my darling!" cried Lady Anne, embracing the trembling bit of +wool. "You don't know what she is to me, sir. My little grandson"--the +imperious old voice shook--"loved the dog. She was his pet. The child is +dead. You understand----" + +"Perfectly," said the doctor. "I, too--I know what loss is. The little +dog strayed. She was found in the High Road. I am very glad to restore +her to you; but pray do not thank me. There is a young girl in my +carriage at the gate. She picked up your dog from under the wheels of a +tramcar, and broke her arm, I fear, in doing it. I am on my way to the +hospital, the House of Mercy, where I am doing work for a friend who is +on holiday. I am taking her with me so that I may set the arm where I +have all the appliances." + +"She saved my Fifine? Heroic child! Let me thank her." + +The old lady clutched her recovered treasure to her breast with fervour, +then handed the dog over to the maid. + +"Take me to see Fifine's preserver," she said in a commanding voice. + +Mary was almost swooning with the pain of her arm. She heard Lady Anne's +praises as though from a long distance off. + +"Stay, doctor," the old lady said; "I cannot have her jolted over the +paving-stones of the city to the Mercy. Bring her in here. We need not +detain you very long. We can procure splints and bandages, all you +require, from a chemist's shop. There is one just round the corner. +What, do you say, child? They will be frightened about you at home! I +shall send word. Be quiet now; you must let us do everything for you." + +So the doctor assisted Mary into the old house behind the trees. Lady +Anne walked the other side of her, pretending to assist Mary and really +imagining that she did. + +The splints and the bandages were on, and Mary had borne the pain well. + +"I'm afraid I must go," said the doctor, looking at his watch. "I am +half an hour behind my time. And where am I to visit my patient?" + +"Where but here?" said Lady Anne with decision. "It is now half-past +eleven. I have lunch at half-past one. Could you return to lunch, +Dr.--ah, Dr. Carruthers. You are Dr. Carruthers, are you not? You took +the big house at the corner of Magnolia Road a year ago?" + +"Yes, I am Dr. Carruthers; and I shall be very pleased to return to +lunch, Lady Anne. I don't think the little dog is any the worse for her +experience." + +His face was flushed as he stood with his hat in his hand, bowing and +smiling. If only Lady Anne Hamilton would take him up! That big house at +the corner of Magnolia Road had been a daring bid for fortune. So had +the neat, single brougham, hired from a livery-stable. So had been the +three smart maids. But so far Fortune had not favoured him. He was one +of fifty or so waiters on Fortune. When people were ill in the smart +suburban neighbourhood they liked to be attended by Dr. Pownall, who +always drove a pair of hundred guinea horses. None of your hired +broughams for them. + +"You are paying too big a rent for a young man," said Lady Anne. "You +can't have made it or anything like made it. Pownall grows careless. The +last time I sent for him he kept me two hours waiting. When I had him to +Stewart, my maid, he was in a hurry to be gone. Pownall has too much to +do--too much by half." + +Her eyes rested thoughtfully on the agitated Dr. Carruthers. + +"You shall tell me all about it when you come back to lunch," she said; +"and I should like to call on your wife." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WALL BETWEEN + + +"The child has brought us luck--luck at last, Mildred," Dr. Carruthers +was saying, a few hours later. "When I lifted her in my arms she was as +light as a feather. A poor little shabby, overworked thing, all eyes, +and too big a forehead. Her boots were broken, and I noticed that her +fingers were rough with hard work." + +He was walking up and down his wife's drawing-room in a tremendous state +of excitement, while she smiled at him from the sofa. + +"It is wonderful, coming just now, too, when I had made up my mind that +we couldn't keep afloat here much longer, and had resolved to give up +this house at the September quarter and retire into a dingier part of +the town. Once it is known that I am Lady Anne Hamilton's medical man +the snobs of the neighbourhood will all be sending for me." + +"Poor Dr. Pownall!" said Mrs. Carruthers, laughing softly. + +"Oh, Pownall is all right. They say he's immensely wealthy. He can +retire now and enjoy his money. If the public did not go back on him +he'd be a dead man in five or six years. He does the work of twenty men. +I pity the others, the poor devils who are waiting on fortune as I have +waited." + +"There is no fear of Lady Anne disappointing you?" she asked, in a +hesitating voice. She did not like to seem to throw cold water on his +joyful mood. + +"There is no fear," he answered, standing midway of the room with its +three large windows. "She is coming to see you, Milly. If I have failed +in anything you will succeed. You will see me at the top of the tree +yet. You will have cause to be proud of me." + +"I am always proud of you. Kit," she said, in a low, impassioned voice. + +Meanwhile, Lady Anne herself had made a pilgrimage to Wistaria Terrace +in the hour preceding the luncheon hour. She had left Mary in a deep +chair in the big drawing-room. Outside were the boughs of trees. From +the windows you could surprise the secrets of the birds if you would. +The room was very spacious, with chairs and sofas round the walls, a +great mirror at either end, a paper on its walls which pretended to be +panels wreathed in roses. The ceiling had a gay picture of gods and +goddesses reclining in a flowery mead. The mantelpiece was Carrara +marble, curiously inlaid with coloured wreaths. There was a fire in the +brass grate, although it was summer weather. The proximity of the trees +and the natural climate of the place meant damp. The fire sparkled in +the brass dogs and the brass jambs of the fireplace. The skin of a tiger +stretched itself along the floor. The terrible teeth grinned almost at +Mary's feet. + +The child was sick and faint from the pain of having her arm set. She +lay in the deep sofa, covered with red damask, amid a bewildering +softness of cushions and rugs, and wondered what Lady Anne was saying to +Mamie. Mamie was Mrs. Gray. From the first Mary had not called her +Mother. Her name was Matilda, and Mamie was a sort of compromise. + +Meanwhile, Lady Anne had gone out by her garden, through the stable, and +into the lane at the back. There was a little door open in the opposite +wall; beyond it was a shabby trellis with scarlet-runners clambering +upon it. + +Lady Anne peeped within. A disheartened-looking woman was hanging a +child's frock on the line which was stretched from wall to wall. Three +children, ranging in age from two to five, were sitting on the grass +plot. Two were playing with white stones. The third was surveying its +own small feet with great interest, sucking at a fat thumb as though it +conveyed some delicious nourishment. + +"Do I speak to Mrs. Gray?" asked Lady Anne, advancing. She had a +sunshade over her head, a deep-fringed thing with a folding handle. She +had bought it in Paris in the days of the Second Empire. + +Mrs. Gray stared at the stranger within her gates, whom she knew by +sight. There was some perturbation in her face. She had been worried +about the unusual duration of Mary's absence. Mary had not come back +with the market basket which contained the children's dinner. At one +o'clock the four elder ones would be upon her, ravening. What on earth +had become of Mary? The poor woman had not realised how much she +depended on Mary, since Mary was always present and always willing to +take the burdens off her stepmother's thin, stooped shoulders on to her +own. + +Now she caught sight of the market-basket. One of Lady Anne's +white-capped maids had come in and deposited it quietly. + +"Mary?" she gasped. "What has become of Mary?" + +"Pray don't frighten yourself," said Lady Anne. "I have a message +from Mary. She is at my house. As a matter of fact, she met with an +accident. There--don't go so pale. It is only a matter of time. Her arm +is broken. She got it broken in saving the life of my little Maltese, +who had strayed out and had got in the way of the tram. I always said +that those trams should not be allowed. The tracks are so very +unpleasant--dangerous even, for the carriages of gentlefolk. There is +far too much traffic allowed on the public highways nowadays, far too +much. People ought to walk if they cannot keep carriages." + +She broke off abruptly and looked at the three small children. + +"These are yours?" she asked. "They seem very close together in age." + +"A year and a half, three years, four years and three months," said Mrs. +Gray, forgetting in her special cause for pride her awe of Lady Anne. + +"Dear me, I should have thought they were all twins," said the old lady. +"How very remarkable! Have you any more?" + +"Four at school. The eldest is nine. You see, they came so quickly, my +lady. Only for Mary I don't know how I should have reared them." + +"H'm! Mary is very stunted. It struck me that she would have been tall +if she had had a chance. Those heavy babies, doubtless. Well, I am going +to keep Mary for a while. How will you do without her?" + +Mrs. Gray's faded eyes filled with tears. + +"I can't imagine, my lady. You see, we have never kept a servant. When I +lived at home with my Mamma we always had three. Mr. Gray has literary +attainments, my lady. He is not practical." + +"I can send you an excellent charwoman," Lady Anne broke in, "for the +present. I will see what is to be done about Mary. The child has +rendered me an inestimable service. I must do something for her in +return. By the way, she is not your daughter?" + +"My stepdaughter." + +"Ah, I thought so. Well, the charwoman shall come in at once. She can +cook. Later on, we shall see--we shall see." + +"By the way," said Lady Anne, coming back with a rustle of silks while +Mrs. Gray yet stood in bewilderment, holding the baby's frock in her +limp fingers. "By the way, Mary is very anxious about her father--how he +will take her accident. Will you tell your husband that I shall be glad +to see him when he comes home this evening?" + +"I will, my lady," said Mrs. Gray; "and, my lady, would you please not +to mention to Mr. Gray about the charwoman? He's that proud; it would +hurt him, I'm sure. If he isn't told he'll never know she's there. A +child isn't as easily deceived as Walter." + +"I shall certainly not tell him," Lady Anne said graciously. She did not +object to the honest pride in Walter Gray. He was probably a superior +man for his station, being Mary's father. As for that poor slattern, +Lady Anne had lived too long in the world to be amazed by the marriages +men made, either in her own exalted circle or in those below it. + +Walter Gray came, in a flutter of tender anxiety, at half-past six in +the evening, to Lady Anne's garden, where Mary was sitting in her wicker +chair under the mulberry tree. Lady Anne had given orders that he was to +be shown out to the garden when he called. + +"My poor little girl!" he said, with an arm about Mary's shoulder. + +Then he took off his hat to Lady Anne. There was respect in his manner, +but nothing over-humble, nothing to say that they were not equals in a +sense. His eyes, at once bright and dreamy, rested on her with a +friendly regard. + +"The man has gentle blood in him somewhere," said the old lady to +herself. She had a sense of humour which kept her knowledge of her own +importance from becoming overweening. "I believe his respect is for my +age, not for my rank. I wonder what the world is coming to!" + +She went away then and left the father and daughter together. Walter, +who had taken a chair by Mary's, looked with a half-conscious pleasure +round the velvet sward on which the shadows of the trees lay long. The +trees were at their full summer foliage, dark as night, mysterious, +magnificent. + +"What a very pleasant place!" Walter Gray said, with grave enjoyment. +"How sweet the evening smells are! How quiet everything is! Who could +believe that Wistaria Terrace was over the wall?" + +"I have been missing Wistaria Terrace," Mary said. "You don't know how +lonesome it feels for the children. I wonder how Mamie is getting on +without me. I want to go home. Indeed, I feel quite able to. I don't +know how I shall do without going home." + +"If you went home," said Walter Gray, unexpectedly practical, "your arm +would never set, Mary. You'd be forgetting and doing all manner of +things you oughtn't to do. If Lady Anne is kind enough to ask you to +visit her, stay a while and rest, dear. Indeed, you do too much for your +size." + +"You will all miss me so dreadfully." + +"Indeed, I don't think we shall miss you--in that way. Oddly enough--I +suppose Matilda was on her mettle--the house seemed quieter when I came +home. The children were in bed. I smelt something good from the kitchen. +Don't imagine that we shall not be able to do without you, child." + +Mary, who knew no more of the capable charwoman than Walter Gray did, +looked on this speech of her father's as a mere string of tender +subterfuges. She said nothing, but her eyes rested on her grey woollen +skirt, faded by wear and the weather, and she had an unchildish sense of +the incongruity of her presence as a visitor in Lady Anne's house. +Walter Gray's glance roamed over his young daughter. He saw nothing of +her dreary attire. He saw only the spiritual face, over-pale, the +slender, young, unformed body, graceful as a half-opened flower in its +ill-fitting covering, the slender feet that had a suggestion of race, +the toil-worn hands the fingers of which tapered to fine points. + +"You have always done too much, child," he said, with sudden, tender +compunction. + +When he rose to go Mary clung to him as though their parting was to be +for years. + +"I will come in again to-morrow," he said. "I shall sleep better +to-night for thinking of you in this quiet, restful place. Get some +roses in your cheeks, little girl, before you come back to us." + +"I wish I were going back now," said Mary piteously. She looked round +the old walls with their climbing fruit trees as though they were the +walls of a prison. "It is awful not to be able to come and go. And Mamie +will never be able to do without me. The children will be ill----" + +He left her in tears. As he re-entered the house by its iron steps up to +a glass door Lady Anne came out from her morning-room and called him +within. He looked about him at the room, walled in with books, with +yellowed marble busts of great men on top of the book-cases. His feet +sank in soft carpets. The smell of a pot of lilies mingled with the +smell of leather bindings. The light in the room, filtered through the +leaves of an overhanging creeper, was green and gold. It seemed to him +that he must have known such a room in some other world, where he had +not had to make watches all day with a glass screwed in his eye, but had +abundant leisure for books and beautiful things. Not but that there +might be worse things than the watchmaking. Over the works of the +watches, the fine little wheels and springs, Walter Gray thought hard, +thought incessantly. He thought, perhaps, the harder that he had neither +the leisure nor opportunity for putting down his thoughts on paper or +imparting them to another like-minded with himself. How his fellows +would have stared if they could have known the things that went on +inside Walter Gray's mind as he leant above his table, peering into the +interior of the watch-cases! + +"Sit down, Mr. Gray," said Lady Anne graciously; "I want to talk to you +about Mary." + +She approached the matter delicately, having wit enough to see that +Walter Gray was no common person. While she talked she looked with frank +admiration at his face: the fine, high, delicate nose; the arched brows, +like Mary's own; the over-development of the forehead. The dust of years +and worries lay thick upon his face, yet Lady Anne said to herself that +it was a beautiful face beneath the dust. + +"I want to talk to you about Mary," she went on. "The child interests me +strongly. She is a fine vessel, this little daughter of yours. Pray +excuse me if I speak plainly. She has been doing far too much for her +age and her strength. Haven't you noticed that she is pulled down to +earth? Those babies, Mr. Gray--they are remarkably fat and heavy; they +are killing Mary." + +"Her mother died of consumption," Walter Gray said, his face whitening +with terror. + +"Ah!" the old lady thought; "she is the child of his heart. Those three +twins are merely the children of his home. That poor drudge of a mother +of theirs! Mary is the child of her father's heart and mind." + +Then aloud: "You had better let me have her, Mr. Gray." + +"Let you have her, Lady Anne? What would you do with my Mary?" + +He looked scarcely less aghast than he had done a moment before at the +suggestion of consumption. + +"Not separate her from you, Mr. Gray. This house is my home, and I am +not likely to leave it, except for a month or two at a time, at my age. +I think the child will be a companion to me. I have no romantic +suggestions to make. I am not proposing to adopt Mary. I shall pay her a +salary, and give her opportunities for education that you cannot. She +interests me, as I have said. Let me have her. When I no longer need +her--I am an old woman, Mr. Gray--she will be fit to earn her own +living. Everything I have goes back to my nephew Jarvis Lord Iniscrone. +But Mary will not suffer. Think! What have you to give her but a life of +drudgery under which she will break down--die, perhaps?" + +She watched the emotion in his face with her little keen, bright eyes. + +"It is not a fine lady's caprice?" he said. "You won't make my Mary +accustomed to better things than I could give her and then send her back +to be a drudge?" + +"The Lord judge between thee and me," she answered solemnly. + +"Then I trust you, Lady Anne Hamilton," he said. + +The strange thing was that the proud old lady was gratified, almost +flattered, by the confidence in Walter Gray's unworldly eyes. + +"Thank you, Mr. Gray," she said; then, as he took up his hat to go, she +laid a detaining hand on his shabby coat sleeve. + +"Why not have dinner with Mary in the garden?" she suggested. "Do, pray. +I want you to tell her what we have agreed upon. I can send word to Mrs. +Gray." + +Walter Gray was pleased enough to go back to his little girl whom he had +left in tears for the comfortless house and the burden of the young +stepbrothers and stepsisters. It was pleasure, half pain, to see the +uplifted face with which Mary regarded him when she saw him return. How +was he going to put the barrier between them that this plan to which he +had given his consent would surely mean? He had no illusions. Over the +wall, Lady Anne had said. But the wall that separated Wistaria Terrace +and the Mall was in reality a high and a great wall. He would never have +Mary in the old close communion again. All passes. How good the old +times were that were only a few hours away, yet seemed worlds! Never +again! They would never be all and all to each other in a solitude which +took no count of the others. Yet it was for Mary's sake. For Mary's sake +the wall was to rise between them. As he began to tell her the strange, +wonderful thing, his heart was heavy within him because a chapter of his +life was closed. He had come to the end of an epoch. Henceforth things +might be conceivably better, but--they would be different. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE NEW ESTATE + + +Mary took the news of her great promotion in an unthankful spirit. + +"Lady Anne is very kind," she said tearfully; "but I don't want to stay +with her. I couldn't bear to live anywhere but in Wistaria Terrace. It +is absurd that you should say you have given your consent, papa. How +could you possibly have consented when the house could not get on +without me? You know it could not. Why, even for a day things would be +all topsy-turvy without me." + +"And so you have not gone to school," the father answered, with an +accent of self-reproach. "You have been weighed down with +responsibilities and cares that you ought to have been free of for years +to come. You have even been stunted in your growth, as Lady Anne said. +It is time things were altered. I don't know how I was so blind. We +ought to be grateful to the accident that has opened a door to us." + +When he had gone, Lady Anne came and comforted Mary. There was a deal of +kindness in the old lady's heart. + +"You shall help them," she said. "Dear me, how much help you will be +able to give them! Imagine beginning with a salary at fifteen! You are +to leave things to me, Mary. I have sent help to your stepmother--an +excellent woman, Mrs. Devine, whom I have known for many years. She is +very capable. I will tell her that she must remain with your stepmother. +It is amazing what one really capable woman can do. And afterwards there +will be the salary." + +The salary, and perhaps a quick, warm feeling for Lady Anne which sprang +up suddenly in Mary's heart, settled the question. After all, as Lady +Anne said, despite her greatness she was very lonely. She had lost her +son and her grandson, and she could not endure her nephew or his family. +She had only a few old cronies. As a matter of fact, although she had +taken a fancy to Mary Gray and captured the child's susceptible heart, +she was not a particularly amiable or lovable old lady to the rest of +the world. She was too keen-sighted and sharp-tongued to be popular. + +Mary slept that night in such a room as she had never dreamt of. There +was a little bed in the corner of it with a flowing veil of white, +lace-trimmed muslin like a baby's cot. There was white muslin tied with +blue ribbons at the window, and the dressing-table was as gaily and +innocently adorned. There was a work-box on a little table, a +writing-desk on another; a shelf of books hung on the wall. The room had +really been made ready for a dear young cousin of Lady Anne's, who had +not lived to enjoy it. If Mary had only known, she owed something of +Lady Anne's interest to the fact that her eyes were grey, like Viola's, +her cheek transparent like Viola's. + +Apart from the discomfort of the broken arm, as she lay in the soft, +downy little bed, she was ill at ease, wondering how they were getting +on without her at Wistaria Terrace. Her breast had an ache for the baby +who was used to lie warm against it. Her good arm felt strange and +lonely for the familiar little body. She kept putting it out in a panic +during her sleep because she missed the baby. + +In the morning Simmons, Lady Anne's maid, came to help her dress. It was +very difficult, Mary found, to do things for one's self with a broken +arm. Her head ached because of the disturbed sleep and the pain of the +broken limb. Simmons had come to her in a somewhat hostile frame of +mind. She did not hold with picking up gutter-children from no one knew +where and setting people as were respectable to wait upon them. But at +heart she was a good-natured woman, and her indignation disappeared +before the unchildish pain and weariness of Mary's face. + +"There," she said, "I wouldn't be fretting, if I were you. Lor' bless +you, there's fine treats in store for you. Her ladyship sent only last +night for a roll of grey cashmere. I'm to fit you after your breakfast +and make it up as quick as I can. Then you'll be fit to go out with her +ladyship in the carriage and get your other things." + +It was the last day of the ugly linsey. Simmons got through her task +with great quickness. She was a woman of taste, else she had not been +Lady Anne's maid. Lady Anne was more particular about her garments than +most young women. And, having once made up her mind to like Mary, +Simmons took an interest in her task. + +"You are so kind, Mrs. Simmons," Mary said gratefully, feeling the +gentleness and dexterity with which the woman tried on her new garments +without once jarring the broken arm. + +"I'm kind enough to those who take me the proper way," said Simmons, +greatly pleased with Mary's prefix of Mrs., which was brevet rank, since +Simmons had never married. It would have made a great difference to +Mary's comfort at this time if she had been sufficiently ill-advised to +call Simmons without a prefix, as Lady Anne did. + +Dr. Carruthers had called to see Mary the morning after the accident. He +had interviewed his patient in the morning-room, and was passing out +through the hall when Lady Anne's voice over the banisters summoned him +to her presence. + +"You can give me a little while, Dr. Carruthers?" she said. "I shall not +be interfering with your work?" + +"I am quite free"--a little colour came into his cheeks. "The friend +whose work I was doing at the House of Mercy returned last night. +Yesterday was my last day." + +"Ah! and yesterday brought you an unexpected patient. How do you find +her?" + +"She has less physique than she ought to have." + +"Yes, she has been underfed and overworked. I am going to alter all +that. I have taken her into my house as my little companion." + +Dr. Carruthers stared in spite of himself. + +"You think it very odd of me? Well, I _am_ odd, and I can afford to do +what pleases me. Mary Gray is going to live here. You should know her +father. A quite remarkable man, I consider him. Now, about yourself. I +have heard of you, Dr. Carruthers. I have heard that you are a very +clever young man and devoted to your work, that you have all the +knowledge of the schools at your fingertips, but very little experience, +and no practice to speak of." + +"Excuse me, Lady Anne. I was three years house surgeon at the Good +Samaritan; and I have done a great deal of work since I have been here. +I will confess that my patients have been of a poor class." + +"Who have not paid you a penny. I don't know whether you do it for +philanthropy or to keep your hand in----" + +"A little of both," the young man said with a faint smile. + +"But it is a good thing to do," the old lady went on, without noticing +his interpellation. "You're spoken well of by the poor, if the rich have +not heard anything about you. I know you're living beyond your means in +a big house, hoping that a paying practice will come to you. My dear +man, it never will, so long as people think you are in need of it. They +like Dr. Pownall at their doors with his carriage and pair, even if he +can only give them five minutes. Pownall forgot himself with me. I +remember his father--a very decent, respectable man who used to grow +cabbages. That's nothing against Pownall--creditable to him, I should +say. Still, he hadn't time to listen to my symptoms, and he was rude. 'A +woman of your age,' he said. I should like to know who told Dr. Pownall +my age. A lady has no age. 'It's time you retired,' I said to him. 'I +don't think of it,' said he; 'not for ten years yet. My patients won't +hear of it.' 'You're greedy,' said I; 'if you weren't your patients +might go to Hong Kong.' He thought it was a joke--hadn't time to find +out whether I was serious or not. I made him, Dr. Carruthers. It's time +for him to retire now. I shall mention to all my friends that you are my +body-physician." + +She spoke like one of the Royal Family. But Dr. Carruthers had no +inclination to laugh. His eyes were dim as he murmured his +acknowledgments. It was fame, it was fortune, in those parts to be +approved by Lady Anne Hamilton. Hitherto she had been understood to +swear by Dr. Pownall. + +"It means a deal to us, Lady Anne," he said, stumbling over his words. +"We had made up our minds to give up the big house and look for a slum +practice. The children--I have two living--are not very strong, any more +than Mildred. We put all we could into the venture of taking the house. +It was our bid for fortune." + +"I wouldn't approve of it in a general way," said Lady Anne. "Still, it +has turned out well. Will your wife be at home to-morrow afternoon? I +should like to call upon her." + +"She will be delighted." + +Dr. Carruthers was regaining his self-control. He knew that the presence +of Lady Anne's barouche at his door for an hour in the afternoon would +be more potent in opening doors to him than if he had made the most +brilliant cure on record. + +Mary was with Lady Anne next day when she went to call on Mrs. +Carruthers. It was characteristic of Lady Anne that she thought to tell +Jennings, the coachman, to drive up and down in front of the house and +round the sides, for Dr. Carruthers' house was a corner one with a +frontage to three sides. It was a hot summer day, and Jennings wondered +disrespectfully what bee the old lady had got in her bonnet. Such a +jangling of harness, such a flashing of polished surfaces! Every window +that commanded the three sides of Dr. Carruthers' house had an eye at +the pane. The tidings flew from one to another that Lady Anne Hamilton +was visiting Mrs. Carruthers, and was making a very long call. + +Mildred was still on her sofa. She would have risen when Lady Anne came +in, but the old lady prevented her. Lady Anne could be royally kind when +it pleased her. + +She drew a chair by the sofa and sat down. Mary, who had come in with +her, listened in some wonder to Lady Anne's sympathetic questions about +the children. That was something in which Mary was interested, in which +Mary had knowledge and experience; but though she listened she would not +have spoken a word for worlds. + +As she sat there on the edge of one of Mrs. Carruthers' chairs--the +drawing-room furniture was of the sparsest; a chair or small table +dotted here and there on the wilderness of polished floor--she could see +herself in a pier-glass at the other end of the room. It was a quite +unfamiliar presentment she saw. This Mary was dressed in soft dove-grey. +She had a little white muslin folded fichu about her shoulders. She had +a wide black hat, with one long white ostrich feather. Her good hand was +gloved in delicate grey kid. There was something quaint about her +aspect; for that artist, Simmons, had discovered that Mary, for all her +fifteen years, looked her best with her soft fine brown hair piled on +top of her head. When she presented Mary so to Lady Anne the old lady +was fain to acknowledge that Simmons was right. There was a quaint and +delightful stateliness about Mary which made Lady Anne say to herself +once more that the child had gentle blood in her. + +"Dear me," Mildred Carruthers thought, as her eyes wandered again and +again to the elegant little figure, "Kit said nothing of this. I +expected to find a rather interesting child of the humbler classes. I +remember particularly that he said she looked as though she had had a +hard time." + +Mary's changed aspect had one unforeseen result. When she presented +herself at Wistaria Terrace the baby did not know her. Her stepmother +shed a few tears, which were half-gratification. The elder children were +already a bit shy of her, the baby's immediate predecessor even +murmuring of her as "the yady," and surveying her from afar, finger in +mouth. But the baby could in no way be brought to recognise her, and +only shouted lustily when she tried to force herself upon his +recognition. + +"I shall come to-morrow in my old frock," Mary said, bitterly hurt by +this lack of perception on the baby's part. "I hate these hideous +things; so I do. To-morrow he will come to his Mary, so he will." + +But when the morrow came, and she sought for her old work-a-day garments +in that pretty white and blue wardrobe where she had hung them when she +had discarded them for the grey frock and hat, they were not to be +found. There were numbers of things such as Mary had never dreamed of. +Lady Anne had provided her with an outfit, simple according to her +thoughts, but splendid in Mary's eyes. A white cashmere dressing-gown, +trimmed with lace, hung on the peg where the grey linsey had been. + +Mary flew to Simmons to know where her old frock had gone to. The good +woman, who by this time had taken Mary under her wing to uphold her +against the rest of the household if it were inclined to resent the new +inmate, looked at her reprovingly. + +"You never wanted that old frock, and you her ladyship's companion? No, +Miss Mary--for so I shall call you, as by her ladyship's orders, let +some people say what they like--that frock you never will see, for gone +it has to a poor child that'll maybe find it a comfort when winter +comes. I wonder at you for thinking on it, so I do, seeing as how I've +taken so much trouble with your clothes." + +Mary turned away with a desolate feeling. The grey linsey might have +been like the feathers of the enchanted bird that became a woman for the +love of a mortal, the feathers which, if she wore them again, had the +power of transporting her back to her kindred and her old estate. The +old life was indeed closed to Mary with the disappearance of the grey +linsey; and it was long before she lost the feeling that if she could +only have kept her old garments she need not have been so separated from +the old life. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BOY AND GIRL + + +It was during those early days that Mary made the acquaintance of Robin +Drummond. She had a comfortless feeling afterwards about the meeting; +but it was not because of Sir Robin or anything he did: he was always a +kind boy in her memory of him. It was because of his mother, Lady +Drummond. Mary knew from Lady Anne, who always thought aloud, that Lady +Drummond made a good many people feel uncomfortable. + +They had driven out all the way from the city to the Court, the big +house on its wide plain below the mountains. It was a long drive--quite +twenty miles there and back--and Jennings, who liked to have a good deal +of his time to himself, had been rather cross about it. Not that he +dared show any temper to Lady Anne, who was easy and kindly with her +servants, as a rule, but could reduce an insubordinate one to humble +submission as well as any old lady ever could. But Mary, who knew the +household pretty well by this time, knew that Jennings was out of temper +by the set of his shoulders, as she surveyed them from her seat in the +barouche. It was a road, too, he never liked to take, because of a +certain steam tram which ran along it and made the horses uncomfortable +when they met it face to face. And there his mistress was unsympathetic +towards him. She had been a brilliant and daring horsewoman in her youth +and middle age. + +"I never thought I should live to amble along like this," she confided +to Mary as they drove between golden harvest fields. "Rheumatic gout is +a great humbler of the spirit. Ah! here comes one of those black +monsters to make the pair curvet a little. They are too fat, Mary. They +have too easy a life. It is only on such an occasion as this that they +remember their hot youth." + +They reached the Court without mishap, although once or twice the horses +behaved as though they meditated a mild runaway. + +"You shall take the other road home, Jennings," Lady Anne said +graciously, as she alighted in front of the great square, imposing +house, amid its flower-beds of all shapes, its ornamental fountains +flinging high jets of golden water in the sun. + +"It's time we gave up the horses, my lady," Jennings said, with +bitterness, "with the likes o' them black beasts on the road." + +Later, as she and Mary waited in the great drawing-room for Lady +Drummond, she returned to the subject of Jennings and his grievance. + +"He is always bad-tempered when we come to the Court," she said. "For +all its grandeur it is not a hospitable house. Jennings will have to go +without his tea this afternoon." + +Mary looked with wonder down the great length of the magnificent room. +Her feet sank in the Turkey carpet. The walls, which were papered in +deep red, were lined with full-length portraits, some of them +equestrian. The place had an air of rich comfort. Was it possible that +the mistress of so much magnificence could grudge a visitor's coachman +his tea? + +"Her ladyship looks after the bawbees," Lady Anne went on, thinking +aloud as usual, rather than talking to Mary. "And those who are in her +employment must think of them too, or they go. Ah! you are looking at +Gerald Drummond's portrait. What do you think of it, child?" + +It was one of the equestrian portraits. The subject, a man in the +thirties, dressed in a lancer uniform, stood by his horse's head. His +helmet was off, lying on the ground at his feet; and it was easy to see +why the artist had chosen to paint the sitter with his head uncovered. +The upper part of the face--the forehead and eyes--was strikingly +handsome. The sweep of golden hair, despite its close military cut, was +beautiful also. For the rest, the nose was too large and not +particularly well-shaped, the chin was rugged, the mouth stern. +Lantern-jawed was the epithet one thought of when looking at the +portrait of the man whose deeds were written in his country's history. + +It was an epithet Mary Gray would not have thought of. Indeed, she +stared at the hero in fascinated awe, but would not have known how to +express an opinion regarding his looks. Fortunately, Lady Anne did not +wait for an answer to her question--had not, perhaps, ever intended that +it should be answered. + +"It is very like," she went on. "Half Greek god, half fanatic. He led +his charges with Bible words on his lips. He spent the night before a +battle in prayer and fasting. He was as stern as John Knox, and as sweet +as Francis de Sales. The only time his light deserted him was when he +married Matilda Stewart. We were all in love with him. I was, although I +ought to have had sense, being ten years his senior and a widow. He +picked the worst of the bunch. Luckily, he could get away from Matilda, +for he was always fighting somewhere, and perhaps he never found out. He +kept his simplicity to the day he died. Some people thought he married +Matilda because she was one of the Stewart heiresses, and the Drummonds +were as poor as church mice. They didn't know him. It was more likely +he'd marry her because she was plain, with a face like a horse, and was +head over ears in love with him. I will say that for Matilda. She was +desperately in love with her husband, although no one would believe now +that she had ever been in love with anybody." + +Lady Drummond delayed about coming to her guests. Lady Anne tapped an +impatient small foot on the floor. + +"She's heckling someone now--take my word for it," she said. + +Then her face wrinkled up, shrewdly humorous. + +"What are you thinking, child?" she asked. "Thinking of how oddly we in +the world talk of the friends we go to visit? I don't trouble the Court +much. But I am interested in Gerald's boy. I should like to know how he +is going to turn out. Not much of her Ladyship in him, I fancy." + +However, there was no question of Mary's judging her benefactress; and +Lady Anne smiled as she noticed that the girl had not heard her +question, and watched the innocent, tender, worshipping look with which +she was gazing at Sir Gerald's portrait. The smile faded off into a +sigh. "_Ah, le beau temps passe!_" The expression on Mary's face +recalled to Lady Anne the one romantic passion of her life, which had +come to her after widowhood had put an end to a marriage in which esteem +and liking for an elderly husband had taken the place of love. + +"You must excuse me, Anne." + +A monotonous, important voice broke into Lady Anne's dream like a harsh +discord, shattering it to atoms. + +"You must excuse me. I've been interviewing my gardener. In your town +life you are spared much. Considering the size of the gardens here and +the labour I pay for, the yield is far too little. I expect the gardens +to pay for themselves, and send the fruit to market. This year there is +a great falling-off." + +"It has been a wet summer," said Lady Anne. + +"Ah! and who is this young lady?" + +Lady Drummond's voice told that she had no need to ask the question. She +had heard of Anne Hamilton's extraordinary freak and had suggested that +for the protection of the interests of Anne's relatives she had better +be put under proper restraint. Still, she asked the question. One would +have said from the deadly monotony of Lady Drummond's voice that she +could not get any expression into it. Yet she could on occasion; and the +chilling disapproval in it now made Mary look up in a frightened +surprise. + +"This young lady, Miss Gray, is my companion," Lady Anne said, with a +stiffening of herself for battle and a light in her eye which showed +that she had not mistaken Lady Drummond's challenge, and had no +objection to take it up. + +"Ah!" Lady Drummond again lifted the lorgnette that hung at her belt and +stared at Mary through it. "The young lady is very young for the post, +and a companion is a new thing--is it not, Anne?--for you to require." + +"You mean that I never could get one to live with me," Lady Anne said +good-humoredly. "Well, Mary and I get on very well together--don't we, +Mary?" + +"Miss Gray is very young." + +"If we are going to discuss her, need she stay?" Lady Anne asked. "I am +sure she is longing to see the gardens. I couldn't get round myself. The +damp has made me stiff." + +"Can you find your way, Miss Gray?" + +Lady Drummond was plainly anxious to be rid of Mary, and made an effort +at politeness which was only awkward and discouraging. + +"I think so," said Mary, looking round with an air of flight. + +Lady Drummond's disapproval chilled her. She was not accustomed to be +disapproved of, and it filled her with a vague terror as though she had +done something wrong ignorantly. + +She glided out of the room like a shadow. As she went, Lady Drummond's +unlowered voice followed her. + +"Your choice is a very odd one, Anne Hamilton. That gawky child, all +eyes and forehead. I remember I wanted you to have my excellent Miss +Bradley." + +"I wouldn't have your excellent Bradley for an hour...." + +But Mary had fled beyond the hearing of the voices. She had no curiosity +to hear any more of Lady Drummond's unflattering remarks concerning her. + +Once again she longed for Wistaria Terrace. There was no place for her +in _this_ world, she said to herself; and sent a tender reproach in her +own mind to the father who had given her up for her good. Then she felt +contrite about Lady Anne. How good the old lady was to her, and how she +stood up for her, would stand up for her, even to the terrible Lady +Drummond! Still, it was not her world; it never would be. She thought, +with sudden childish tears filling her eyes, that the next time Lady +Anne went to see any of her fine friends she would pray to be left at +home. + +The great suite of rooms opened one into the other. Mary was in the last +of them--a library walled in books from floor to ceiling. The heavy +velvet curtains that draped the arched entrance by which she had come +had fallen behind her. The silence in the room where the feet fell so +softly could be felt. There was not a sound but the ticking of a clock +on the mantel-shelf. + +Suddenly she came to a standstill. She had entered the room, but how was +she to leave it? The doors were constructed of a piece with the +book-shelves. The backs of them were dummy books. Mary did not know in +the least how to discover the doors. In fact, she supposed that there +were not any. She would have to retrace the way she came--perhaps even +ask the terrible Lady Drummond how to get out. + +She looked up at the long windows with the eye of a bird who has strayed +in and cannot find the way out. The elusive air of flight that was hers +was more pronounced at the moment. + +Suddenly there was a sound, and, as Mary thought, the book-shelves +opened. She saw light through the opening. A tall boy came in, +whistling, and pulled up short as his eyes fell on her. He was about her +own age, or a little older. + +Mary never forgot in after years the kindness and friendliness of his +face as his eyes rested upon her. He came forward slowly, putting out +his hand. The colour flooded his face to the roots of his fair hair. + +"You came with Lady Anne Hamilton," he said. "I found the carriage +outside. I have sent it round to the stables and told the man to put up +the horses for a while. He will want some refreshment; and they need a +rest." + +Mary put a limp hand into the frankly extended one. + +"I couldn't find my way out," she said, with a sigh of relief. "I +thought there were no doors. I was going to see the gardens while Lady +Anne and Lady Drummond talked." + +"Let me come with you," the boy said eagerly. "I don't know how anybody +stays in the house on such a day. Do you like puppies? I have a +beautiful litter of Clumber spaniels. And I should like you to see my +pony. I have just been out on him. It's a bit slow here, all alone, +after so many fellows at school. I'm at Eton, you know. I am going back +next Thursday. Shan't be altogether sorry, either, though I'll miss some +things." + +They went out together into the golden autumn afternoon. First they went +round the gardens, where the boy picked some roses and made them into a +little bunch for Mary. He took a peach from a red wall and gave it to +her. They sat down together on a seat to eat their fruit. Gardeners and +gardeners' assistants passing by touched their hats respectfully. It +was, "Yes, Sir Robin," and "No, Sir Robin." The young master had a good +many questions to ask of the gardeners. He was evidently well liked, to +judge by the smiles with which they greeted him. + +"They're no end of good fellows," he confided to Mary. "The mater's +rather down on them; thinks they don't do enough. It's a mistake, a +woman trying to run a place like this. She can't understand as a man +does. Now, if you've finished your peach, Miss Gray, we'll go round to +the stable yard and see the puppies. After that I'll show you the pony. +His name's Ajax, and he's rather rippin'. Do you like Kerry cows? The +mater has a herd of them--jolly little beasts, but a bit wicked, some of +them. You needn't be afraid of them. They wouldn't touch you while I'm +there." + +Mary inspected the Clumber puppies, and was promised the pick of the +litter if Lady Anne would allow her to accept it. + +"She won't refuse," said the boy, confidently. "She thinks no end of +me." + +"Unless the puppy might worry Fifine." + +"The puppy wouldn't take any notice of that thing--the old dog, I mean. +Besides, she lives in her basket, doesn't she? You might keep the puppy +in the stables and take him for walks whenever you can. He'll have a +beautiful coat like his mother, and if he's half as clever as she +is...!" + +"He's a lovely thing," said Mary, hugging the puppy, who was licking her +face energetically and patting her with tremendous paws. + +They visited the paddock next; and Sir Robin, springing on Ajax's back, +trotted him up and down for Mary's inspection. He had a good seat in the +saddle, and he looked his best on horseback. To be sure, Mary had not +discovered that Sir Robin was plain, his mother's plainness militating +in him against what share of beauty he might have inherited from his +father. There was something so exhilarating to Mary in the afternoon's +experience, after its beginning so badly, that she forgot what had gone +before. She thought Sir Robin a kind and delightful boy. They saw the +Kerries, and afterwards there were the rabbits, and the ferrets, and the +guinea-pigs to be visited. Intimacy advanced by leaps and bounds. Before +the inspection had concluded she was "Mary" to her new-found friend, +although she was too reticent by nature to think of addressing him so +familiarly. + +They had forgotten the time till half-past five struck from a clock in +the stable-yard. At this time they were down by a pond in the shrubbery, +where there was an islet with a water-hen's nest and a couple of swans +sailing on the water. There was a boat, too, and Sir Robin was just +getting it out preparatory to rowing Mary round the pond. + +"Oh!" she said, with a little start. "What time is that?" + +"Half-past five. I'd no idea it was so late." + +"Nor I. I must go back at once. Lady Anne said we should be returning +about five. I hope she will not be very angry with me." + +Mary had begun to tremble. She always trembled in moments of agitation, +as a slender young poplar might shiver in the wind. + +The boy jumped out of the boat hastily. + +"There, don't be frightened," he said. He had caught a glimpse of Mary's +face. "Lady Anne won't mind. She's a good sort. You should see the +hampers she sends me. The mater doesn't approve of school hampers. You +must put the blame on me. It was my fault entirely, for I had a watch." + +They hurried along the path leading back to the open space in front of +the house. When they emerged into the open a breathless maid came +towards them. + +"I've been looking everywhere for you and the young lady, Sir Robin," +she said. "Lady Anne Hamilton is waiting for Miss Gray." + +Poor Mary! When they arrived in the drawing-room it was not with Lady +Anne she had to count. Lady Anne sat with an air of humorous patience on +her face, but Lady Drummond's brow was thunderous. The haughty +indignation in her pale eyes terrified the very soul in Mary. She shrank +away from it in terror. + +"I had no idea you were with Miss Gray, Robin," she heard the lady say +in glacial accents. + +"I discovered Miss Gray trying to find her way out of the library. No +one could find those doors without knowing something about them. And we +went to see the puppies and the pony and the other beasts." + +"We'd better be going, Mary," Lady Anne said, standing up. "You and +Robin have made my visit quite a visitation." + +"The horses had to rest and the coachman to have his tea," said Sir +Robin, sturdily. + +"You take too much care of your horses, Anne," Lady Drummond said. "They +are too fat; they can't be healthy. And your coachman is very fat, too." + +"Oh, they take it easy, they take it easy," Lady Anne said, laughing; +"they've only my temper to worry them." + +They left Lady Drummond looking as black as thunder in the drawing-room. +Sir Robin escorted them to their carriage. + +"So sorry, Lady Anne," he said, apologetically. "It was my fault. I hope +you won't be angry with Miss Gray." + +"It is your mother's annoyance has to be considered, my dear boy," +answered Lady Anne, while he tucked the rug about her. + +"All the same, Miss Gray and I had a rippin' time," he said, flinging +back his head with an air of humorous defiance. "And--I say--you're too +good to me, you know, you really are." Lady Anne had pressed something +into his palm. "The mater doesn't see what boys want with so much +pocket-money. Sometimes I don't know what I'd do only for you. There are +so many things a fellow has to subscribe to." + +The carriage rolled off, leaving him bare-headed on the drive in front +of the house. + +"That's a good boy," said Lady Anne, emphatically. "He has his father's +heart. He's getting the ways of the master about him, too. I can tell by +Jennings' back that he's had a good tea. He'll be a good son, but the +time will come when he'll choose for himself. Well, Mary, I hope you've +enjoyed yourself. Matilda won't want to see me for a month of Sundays +again. Nor I her, for the matter of that. Dear me, she can make herself +unpleasant." + +Mary sat in a conscience-stricken silence during that homeward drive. +Yet Lady Anne was not angry with her--that was very obvious. She seemed +to be enjoying herself, too, judging by the smile that played about her +lips. Now and again she cast a humorous glance on Mary. Once she +chuckled aloud. + +"Never mind me, my dear," she said, in answer to Mary's glance. "I was +only thinking of something Denis Drummond, Gerald Drummond's elder +brother, said of her Ladyship. Ah, poor Denis! He'd face a charge of the +guns more readily than he would her Ladyship. Odd, isn't it, Mary, how +those thoroughly disagreeable women can make themselves feared?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +"OLD BLOOD AND THUNDER" + + +Sir Denis Drummond had been his brother Gerald's senior by some seven or +eight years. He, too, was a soldier, and had inherited the baronetcy +from his father, upon whom the title had been bestowed by a grateful +country for services in the field. A second baronetcy in the family had +been specially created for Sir Gerald. It would not have been easy to +say which was the finer soldier of the two brothers; for while Sir +Gerald had made his name famous by the most dare-devil and brilliant +feats, Sir Denis was rather the old type of soldier--cool as well as +daring, always reliable and steady. Worshipped by his men, his name was +one to be held in constant regard by the British public, which calls its +heroes by their Christian names abbreviated, if they do not happen, +indeed, to have a nickname for them. + +"Old Blood and Thunder" was the name by which Sir Denis was known to his +men, and that from a certain violence of speech of which he had never +been able, or perhaps had never desired, to divest himself. This +violence had somewhat annoyed his brother Gerald, who could get as much +exhortation out of a verse of Scripture as ever he needed. Sir Denis, +like many old soldiers, was quite a devout man in his way; but he had +none of the zealot passion of his younger brother. The hidden fires +which had given Sir Gerald a certain haggardness of aspect, as though a +sculptor had hewed him roughly in marble, had never burned in Sir +Denis's breast. He was a red-faced, white-moustached veteran, as +blustering as the west wind, but with a heart as soft as wax in the +hands of his daughter Nelly, and, indeed, in the hands of anyone else +who knew the way to it. + +His servants adored him, as did the dogs and all animals and children. +He was beautiful in his manner to women of high and low degree, with +perhaps one exception. He was as simple as a child, and loved the +popular applause which fell to him whenever he made any kind of public +appearance, for he had been so long a Londoner that now the London crowd +knew him and had a sense of possession in him. His rosy face would beam +all over when the crowd shouted itself hoarse for "Old Blood and +Thunder." He did not at all object to the name, which had filtered from +regimental into common use. The crowd was always "Boys!" to him. He had +a most amiable feeling towards it, were it ever so frowsy and undersized +and sallow. But he loved a soldier-man, and could hardly bear to pass +one in the street without stopping to speak to him. + +One delightful thing about Sir Denis was the esteem in which he held his +own calling of arms. It might be questioned whether he held the Church +even in higher honour. He was no subscriber to the belief that the army +must necessarily be a refuge of rapscallions. "Straighten your +shoulders, sir; hold your head high; for, remember that you are now a +soldier!" he would say to the newest recruit who had just scraped +through with a margin of chest. His thunderous wrath and sorrow when one +of his "boys" was guilty of conduct unbecoming a soldier were something +which, in time, impressed even the least impressionable. His old +regiment, which he delighted to talk about, he had left a model +regiment. + +"There's a deal of good in the soldier-man," he would say to his +daughter Nelly. "The poor fellows, they're good boys, they're very good +boys." + +Sir Denis had married, as he was approaching middle age, a very +beautiful young girl, who had fallen in love at first with the soldier, +and afterwards with the man. + +His Nell had left him in his daughter Nelly a replica of herself. During +the years of service that remained to him the child was always as near +to him as might be. Fortunately, by this time the period of his foreign +service was all but at an end. Wherever he had his command the child and +her nurse were always within riding distance. He did not believe in +barracks and towns for the rearing of anything so fresh and tender. His +Nelly must have the fields and the woods and the waters. In later years +her milkmaid freshness owed, perhaps, something to this upbringing. + +Later, she went to school. Sir Gerald's widow, to whom Sir Denis always +referred as the Dowager, who had taken an unasked-for interest in the +motherless child from her birth, had found the ideal school for Nelly--a +school where the daughters of the aristocracy were kept in a conventual +seclusion while they learnt as little as might be of the simpler +virtues, but a deal of the way to step in and out of a carriage, to +comport themselves with dignity, to bear themselves in the presence of +their sovereign, and so on. + +Sir Denis, who had not been consulted, made a pretence of interviewing +the Misses de Crespigny, by whom this aristocratic preserve was +safeguarded. + +He had listened to Miss Selina de Crespigny's eloquent exposition of the +system adopted at De Crespigny House. Then he had torn it all to pieces +as one might the delicate fabric of a spider's web, constructed at +infinite cost. + +"And, tell me now, do you teach them to be good daughters and wives and +mothers?" he asked, with his air of convincing simplicity. "Do you teach +them their duties to their husbands and children, ma'am, may I ask?" + +Miss de Crespigny positively gasped. There was an indelicacy about the +General's speech, to her manner of thinking. + +"We expect our young ladies' mothers to teach them all that," she said, +stiffly. + +"And they don't. In nine cases out of ten they don't. They've too much +to do otherwise. Whether it is philanthropy or politics, or just amusing +themselves, they've all got too much to do," Sir Denis said, with a +simple air that made it doubtful if this criticism of Society's ways was +adverse or not. + +Nelly did not go to De Crespigny House. She went, instead, to a much +less pretentious school, kept by a family of four sisters, for whom the +dry bones of teaching had been clothed with life. The house was perched +on a high, windy cliff. The sisters, Miss Stella and Miss Clara, Miss +Lucy and Miss Marianne, did their own teaching, and did it in a +perfectly unconventional way to the twenty or so girls who made up their +school. + +When Nelly came home to her father at seventeen years of age, it would +not have been easy to find a fresher, franker specimen of young +girlhood. In fact, to her father's eyes she was somewhat alarmingly +bright and fair. + +"The young fellows will be about her thick as bees," he said to himself +in a frightened way. "I won't have any nonsense about Nelly. I want my +girl to myself for a little while. Afterwards there is that arrangement +of the Dowager's about Nelly and Robin. I don't care for the marriage of +first cousins. And I'm not sure that I care for Robin; still, he is poor +Gerald's son. There can be nothing against poor Gerald's son." + +He was so afraid of possible lovers for Nelly that he actually suggested +to her that she should go to a smart finishing school for the couple of +years that separated him from the sixty-five limit. + +"After that," he said, faintheartedly, for there was a sparkle in +Nelly's eye which discouraged him, "we shall settle down in London, and +you shall see all you want to see. There are quiet nooks and corners to +be had, even in London. I think I know the one I shall choose. Be a good +girl, Nelly, and go to Madame Celeste's. A garrison town is no place for +you. Unless, indeed, you would like to go to the Dowager, as she +wishes." + +"I shan't go to the Dowager, and I shan't go to Madame Celeste's," said +Nelly, dimpling and sparkling. "I shall stay with my old Dad and take +care of him." + +"What, Nell? 'Shan't'! You forget you're talking to your commanding +officer. Rank insubordination--that is what I call it!" + +"Call it what you like," Miss Nelly replied. "I'm going to stay. A +finishing school at seventeen! I never heard the like!" + +With that she put her arms round the General's neck, and that was the +final argument. Secretly, indeed, he was not altogether sorry to be +worsted. He had done his best to ward off the things that might happen. +Now he was going to trust in Providence and keep his little girl with +him. To be sure, he had known that she would never go to the Dowager's. +Nelly had never considered that possibility. After all, it was a relief +that they were not going to be parted. + +During the two years Nelly, indeed, had many admirers and lovers, but +she was not attracted by any of them. She was kind and friendly and +engaging; but she was unconscious with her lovers, or so it seemed to +the jealous, fatherly eyes, to the verge of coldness. + +He often said to himself that he could not understand Nell. None of the +gay, handsome, gallant soldier lads seemed to have the least attraction +in that way for her. To be sure, she was a child, and there was plenty +of time. Why shouldn't her old father keep her for the years to come? +Unless--unless, that fellow Robin had been beforehand with the +others--Robin, who had refused point-blank to be a soldier, and had +even, to the General's bitter offence, actually spoken at the Oxford +Union "On the Waste and Wickedness of a Standing Army." The General had +nearly had a fit over that. Good Heavens! Gerald's son, Sir Massey +Drummond's grandson, to be found on the side of the Philistines like +that! What chill was in the boy's blood? What crook in his character? +What bee in his bonnet? + +The General had sworn then that Robin never should have his Nelly. But +the Dowager had been sapping and mining and laying plans to bring about +the marriage almost from Nelly's infancy, when she had come in and +altered the constituents of Nelly's baby bottles, and had infuriated +Nelly's wholesome country nurse to the point of departure. The General +had come just in time then to find Mrs. Loveday fastening the +cherry-coloured strings of her bonnet with fingers that trembled, and +had been put to the very edge of his simple diplomacy to undo the +Dowager's work. He knew his own helplessness where women were concerned. +Nelly might see something in Robin, confound him, that the General could +not. + +At this point he would remember that, after all, Robin was poor Gerald's +son, if an unworthy one, and be contrite. But then the grievance would +revive of a far-back Quaker ancestor of Lady Drummond, whom the General +blamed for the peace-loving instincts of poor Gerald's boy; and once +again he would be furious. + +Meanwhile, Nelly's frank, innocent eyes, blue as gentians, had no +consciousness of a lover. Her old father seemed to be enough for her. At +one moment they gave him the fullest assurance; the next he was in heats +and colds of apprehension about the lover, be it Robin or another, who +would take his little girl from him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BLUE RIBBON + + +The half-dozen years or so following Sir Denis's retirement were years +of peace, in which he forgot for long periods, broken only by the +Dowager's visits to London, his fear of losing his Nelly. + +He had taken a house in Sherwood Square, where there is a space and +breeziness that the fashionable districts could not possibly allow. + +The square sits on top of one of the highest hills in London, and +entrenches itself as a fortress against the poverty and squalor that are +creeping up the hill towards it. Around the square there are still +gardens and crescents and roads of consideration, but ever dwindling in +social status as one goes down the hill, till the consideration vanishes +in the degradation of cheap boarding-houses and the homes of Jews of the +shopkeeping classes. + +Sir Denis had discovered Sherwood Square for himself, and was uncommonly +proud of it. He liked to point out to his friends that he rented a +palatial mansion for what a _pied-a-terre_ in Mayfair would have cost +him. The houses had been built by wealthy merchants and professional +people in the eighteenth century. They had splendours of double doors +and marble pavements, of frescoed walls and ceilings, and carved +mantelpieces. They were entered from a quiet street which showed hardly +a sign of life. There were lions couchant guarding the entrances. The +walls on that side showed mostly blank, uninteresting windows. With an +odd pride the great houses showed only their duller aspects to the +world. + +All the living-rooms except one looked on the other side; and what a +difference! There was a great stretch of emerald-green turf such as one +would never look to see in London; to be sure, gardeners had been +watering and mowing and rolling it for over a century. In the turf were +many flower-beds, and here and there were forest trees which had been +there when the district was fields. Country birds came and built there +year after year. You might hear the thrush begin about January. And in +the spring it was a wilderness of sweet hyacinths and daffodils, lilac +and may. The rooms were spacious and splendid within the big +cream-coloured house; and the General used to say that in the early +morning, when the smoke had cleared away, it was possible from the upper +windows to see as far as the Surrey hills. However, that was something +which nobody but himself had tested. + +In the house love and friendliness and good-will reigned supreme. The +General had insisted on engaging his own servants, much to the disgust +of the Dowager, who had several _proteges_ of her own practically +engaged. When the General had outwitted Lady Drummond on this occasion +by a flank movement, he was very gleeful in his confidential moments +alone with Nelly. + +"She wanted to put in her spies and satellites, did she, Nelly, my girl? +Pretty stories of us they'd have carried to her Ladyship. The only +womanly thing your aunt has, my girl, is an invincible curiosity. She'd +like to know what we had for lunch and dinner, who came to see us, and +what clothes we wore. I'm glad you wouldn't have that mantua-maker of +hers. Cannot my girl have her frocks made where she likes? I'll tell you +what, Nelly: your aunt is a presumptuous, meddling, overbearing, +impertinent woman--that she is." + +"Why don't you tell her to leave us alone, papa?" + +But the General, whose courage had never been doubted during all the +years of his strenuous life, had very little bravery when it came to a +question of telling hard truths to a woman, and that woman the Dowager. + +"We must remember, after all, Nelly," he would say then, "that she is +your Uncle Gerald's widow. Poor Gerald! what a dear fellow he was! No +matter what we say between ourselves, we can't quarrel with Gerald's +widow." + +And Sir Denis, who was becoming garrulous in old age, would slip off +into some reminiscence of the younger brother to whom he had been +tenderly attached, and for whom he had also a certain hero-worship +because he had been so fine and heroic a soldier. + +Certainly it said well for the servants whom Sir Denis and Nelly had +chosen for themselves that they fell in so completely with the kindness +and honesty and good-will of the house. Some credit was doubtless due +also to Sir Denis's soldier servant, whom he had installed as butler; +for Pat's loyalty and devotion to "Old Blood and Thunder" must have +influenced the class of persons who are so susceptible of impressions +from those of their own station, while the standards and exhortations of +their social superiors are as though they were not. Pat was lynx-eyed +for a malingerer in his Honour's service; and, indeed, where the rule +was so easy and pleasant there was no excuse for malingering. Pat, too, +was ably seconded by Bridget, the cook, who had come in originally as +kitchen-maid, and had in time taken the place of the very important and +pretentious functionary with whom they had started, and whose cookery +did not at all suit Sir Denis's digestion, impaired somewhat by long +years in India. The young kitchen-maid had taken the cook's place during +the latter's holiday, and had sent up for Sir Denis's dinner a little +clear soup, a bit of turbot with a sauce which was in itself genius, a +bird roasted to the nicest golden brown, and a pudding which was only +ground rice, but had an insubstantial delicacy about it quite unlike +what one associates with the homely cereal. + +"You've saved my life, my girl," said Sir Denis, meeting Bridget on the +stairs the morning after this banquet, and presenting her with a golden +sovereign, "and if you like to stay on as cook at forty pounds a year, +why so you shall." + +"You could shave yourself in her sauce-pans, your Honour," said Pat, +when he heard of this amazing promotion. It was Pat's way of saying that +Bridget polished her utensils till they reflected like a mirror. "She's +a rale good little girsha, that's what she is, the same Bridget; and I'm +rale glad, your Honour, that ould consiquince isn't comin' back again." + +After that there were few changes. The servants were in clover, and +since Pat and Bridget knew it, and impressed it on their subordinates, +it came to be a generally recognised fact. To be sure, it made it +pleasanter for everyone in the house when, thanks to Bridget's excellent +plain cooking. Sir Denis forgot he had such a thing as a liver, and had +no more of the gouty attacks which made his temper east-windy instead of +west-windy. During those peaceful years he forgot to be choleric. He was +overflowing with kindness and helpfulness to those about him, and took a +paternal interest in the affairs of his household. + +"Sure," Pat would say to Bridget, "'tis for marrying us he'd be, if he +knew how it was with us, same as he married off Rose to the postman and +gave them a cottage; and that new girl isn't up to Rose's work yet, nor +ever will be, unless I'm mistaken." + +"'Twould be a sin to take advantage of him," Bridget would answer. "And +we're both young enough to wait a bit, Pat. There'll be new ways when +Miss Nelly marries Sir Robin. Maybe 'tis going to live with them he'd +be." + +"He never will, so long as her Ladyship's alive," said Pat, +emphatically. + +"Then maybe we'd be havin' him for a furnished lodger," said Bridget. +"I'd rather it 'ud be something in the country. Why wouldn't you be his +coachman as well, Pat? Sure, anything you don't know about horses isn't +worth the knowin'." + +"True for you. We might have a little lodge," said Pat. + +They were really the quietest and most peaceful years--unless the +Dowager happened to be in town. Then something went dreadfully wrong +with the General's temper, and he would come roaring downstairs and +along the corridors like a winter storm. The servants' hall used to take +a tender interest in those bad days. + +"Somebody ought to spake to her," said Bridget. "Supposin' the gout was +to go to his heart! He was bad enough after the last time she was here." + +"She'll never lave hoult of him," said Pat, solemnly. "The sort of her +Ladyship houlds on the tighter the more you wriggle. He's preparing a +quare bed of repentance for himself, so he is, the langwidge he's usin' +about her all over the house. By-and-by he'll be rememberin' she's Sir +Gerald's widdy, and'll be askin' me ashamed-like, 'I hope I didn't say +too much about her Ladyship in my timper, Pat. She's a tryin' woman, a +very tryin' woman. I'm afraid I'm apt to forget now an' agin that she's +my dear brother's widdy, so I am.'" + +Pat's imitation of Sir Denis was really admirable. + +"'Tis a pity he doesn't run her out of the house," said Bridget, +"instead of lettin' her bother the heart out of him like that." + +"He couldn't say a rough word to a woman, not if it was to save his +life," said Pat. "Nothin' rougher thin 'No, ma'am,' and 'Yes, ma'am,' I +ever heard him say to her. Whirroo, Bridget, you should ha' heard him +whin his timper was up givin' it to us long ago in the barrack square. I +hope it isn't the suppressed gout she'll be giving him the next time! +'Tisn't half as bad whin it's out." + +However, the storms were few and far between. The household lived by +rule. Every morning, winter and summer, the horses were at the door by +eight o'clock for the morning canter of the General and Miss Nelly in +the park. At nine o'clock the household assembled for prayers. After +breakfast Sir Denis walked to his club in Pall Mall, wet or dry. He +would read the papers and discuss the cheeseparing policy of the +Government with some of his old chums, lunch at the club, play a game of +dominoes or draughts, and return home in time for dinner. Frequently +they entertained a friend or two quietly at dinner. But, company or no +company, there were prayers at ten o'clock, after which the General took +his candle and went to his bedroom. + +There were times, of course, when Nelly went out to balls and +entertainments, and then Sir Denis was to be seen on duty, even though +there were a good many ladies who would be willing to take the +chaperonage of his daughter off his hands. But that was an office he +would relinquish to no one. He was the most patient of chaperons, too, +and never grumbled if the daylight found him still at the whist-table, +although he would rise at the same hour as usual and carry out his +appointed round for the day as if he had not lost his sleep over-night. +Of course, Nelly might stay a-bed. He wouldn't have Nelly's roses +spoilt, and the young needed their proper amount of sleep. As for +himself, he couldn't sleep a wink after seven, no matter how late he had +been up the night before. + +But, on the whole, they lived a quiet life. Nelly was too unselfish, too +fond of her father, to cost him many nights without his usual sleep. She +had really the quietest tastes. Her few friends, her books, her music, +her dogs and birds, sufficed for her happiness. They had a houseful of +dogs, by the way, and any description of the way of life in Sherwood +Square which made no mention of dogs would be quite insufficient. Duke +the Irish terrier and Bonaparte the pug, usually Boney, and Nelson the +bull terrier, were as important and characteristic members of the +household as anyone else, except, perhaps, Sir Denis and Miss Nelly. +Nelly used to explain her stay-at-home ways to her friends by saying +that the dogs were offended with her if she went out for a walk without +them. The dogs had many tricks. They knew the terms of drill as well as +any soldier, and were always ready for parade, or to die for their +country, or groan for their country's enemies, at the General's word of +command. Nelly had to be much out-of-doors, as the dogs were clamorous +for walks, and she kept her roses in London with the old milkmaid +sweetness. + +There was one happening of the quiet day that stood out for Sir Denis, +and, although he did not know it, for his daughter also. + +Sir Denis's old regiment happened to be stationed at a barracks in the +immediate neighbourhood. To reach their parade-ground it was possible +for the troops, by making a little detour, to pass along the quiet +street on which the houses in Sherwood Square opened. It became an +established thing that they should pass every morning about nine +o'clock. How that came Sir Denis did not trouble to ask. He was quite +satisfied and delighted that "the boys" should do him honour. + +The breakfast-room was one of the few rooms that did not overlook the +square but the street. Every morning, just as Sir Denis concluded +prayers, there would come the steady trot of cavalry and the jingle of +accoutrements. If he had not quite finished, he would say "Amen" in a +reverent hurry. "Come now, boys and girls," he would say to the +servants, "I want you to see my old regiment." + +He would step out on the balcony above the hall-door with a beaming +face, and his arm around his Nelly's waist. The servants would press +behind him, the dogs push to the front with the curiosity of their kind. +Down the street the soldiers would come, all flashing in scarlet and +gold, the sleek horses shining in the morning sun with a deeper lustre +than their polished accoutrements. There would be a halt for a second in +front of the house. The men would salute their old General, the General +salute his old regiment. Then the cavalcade would sweep on its way and +the street be duller than before. + +One morning--it was a bright, breezy morning of March--the wind had +caught Nelly's golden hair and blown it in a halo about her face. She +was wearing a blue ribbon in it. She was fond of blue, and the +simplicity of it became her fresh youth. Just as the soldiers halted the +wind caught Nelly's blue bow, and, having played with it a little, sent +it drifting down like a little blue flower among the men on horseback. + +It was such a slight thing that the General might not have noticed it. +Anyhow, he made no comment, but watched the troops out of sight as +usual. The odd thing was that Nelly passed over her loss in silence, +although she must have missed her blue ribbon, since without it her hair +had become loose in the wind. + +At breakfast, when the servants had left the room, the General made a +remark. + +"That young Langrishe sits his horse well," he said. "He's a good +soldier, Nelly, my girl. A very good soldier, or I'm much mistaken." + +But Nelly was apparently too absorbed in her duty of making the tea to +answer the remark. For an instant she was redder than a rose. No one +would have suspected Sir Denis of slyness, but the look he shot at the +girl was certainly sly. Under the white tablecloth he rubbed his hands +softly together. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CHANCE MEETING + + +It was worse for the General when Sir Robin Drummond left Oxford and +settled in London, with an avowed intention of reading for the Bar, and +at the same time making politics his real career. + +"A man ought to do something in the world," he said to his irate uncle. +"The Bar is always a stepping-stone. I confess I don't look to practice +very much; my real bent is for politics. But the law interests me, and +it is always a stepping-stone." + +"I should have thought that the profession of arms, which your father +and your grandfather adorned, as well as a good many of your forbears, +might serve you as well," Sir Denis said, hotly. + +"You leave out my uncle, sir," the young man replied, with urbane good +humour. "Yes, the Drummonds have done very well for the profession of +arms. Still, with my beliefs on the subject of war----" + +"Pray don't air them, don't air them. You know what I think about them. +Your father's son ought to be ashamed of professing such sentiments." + +"One must abide by one's sentiments, one's convictions, if one is to be +good for anything. Uncle Denis," Sir Robin said, patiently. + +"You'll have no chance in politics. No constituency will return you. +What we want now is a strong Government that will strengthen us, through +our Army and Navy, sir, against our enemies. Such a Government will come +in at the next election a-top of the wave. The people, or I am much +mistaken, are not going to see the bulwarks of our power tampered with. +The country is all for war. Where do you come in?" + +Sir Robin smiled ever so slightly. It was that smile of his, with its +faintest hint of intellectual superiority, that riled the General to +bursting point. + +"I don't believe there is a war feeling, Uncle Denis," he said. "The +country has had enough of war. However, I should not come in on top of a +wave of war feeling in any case. You would be quite right in asking +where I should come in. To be sure, I look to come in on top of the +anti-war wave. My side is pledged against war. The working man----" + +"You don't mean to say that you're going to appeal to _him_!" Sir Denis +shouted. "You don't mean to say that you're going to side with the +Radicals! I've lived to see many strange things, but--Gerald's son a +Radical!" + +He brought out the ejaculations with the sound of guns popping. His face +was red with indignation, his eyes leaping at his degenerate nephew. The +next words did not tend to calm him. + +"Do you know, Uncle Denis, I believe that if my father had been a +politician he would have been a Radical? His profound feeling for +Christianity, his adherence to the creed of its Founder, Whose whole +life was a glorification of toil----" + +"Spare me, spare me!" cried the General, restraining himself with +difficulty. "So a man can't be a Christian and a gentleman! And you +think your father would have been a Radical! I can tell you, young +gentleman----" + +At this moment Nelly came into the room, charming in her short-waisted +frock of white satin, with a little cap of pearls on her hair. Both men +turned and stared at her, pleasure and affection in their eyes. + +"So you've been heckling poor Robin as usual," she said, stroking her +father's cheek. "Heckling poor Robin and getting your hair on end like a +fretful porcupine. I'll never be able to make you into a nice, sweet, +quiet old gentleman." + +"Turn your attention to him," said the General, indicating his nephew by +an unfriendly nod. "What do you think, Nell? He's a Radical. He's going +to contest a seat for the Radicals. What do you say now?" + +"Pooh!" said Nelly, with her pretty chin in the air. "Pooh! Why +shouldn't he? Lots of nice people are Radicals. If he feels that way, of +course he ought to do it." + +Robin's unpractical eyes thanked her mutely. He was as plain-looking a +man as he had been a boy, more hatchet-faced than ever. He was long and +lean and angular, and his positions were ungraceful. But his eyes were +the eyes of Don Quixote. The eyes had appealed to Nelly as long as she +could remember. + +"Oh, if you're against me, Nell!" said Sir Denis, lamely. "Ah! there's +the bell! And a good thing, too. I couldn't eat my lunch to-day for old +Grogan of the Artillery. He's a man with a grievance. It soured my wine +and spoilt my food. Well, well, Robin, if you're under Nelly's +protection you may do what you like--join the Peace Society, if you +like." + +"I mean to, sir," Sir Robin said, placidly. "In fact, I'm speaking on +'The Ideal of a Universal Peace' on Monday evening at the Finsbury +Democratic Debating Club." + +When Sir Robin came to town there had been an apprehension in his +uncle's breast, too well-founded, that the Dowager would follow him. She +was devoted to her son, and not at all disposed to take the General's +views about his recreancy in politics. + +"A good many good people are on the Radical side, after all," she said, +"and there is, perhaps, more room, too, for a young man of Robin's +ambitions in the Radical party." + +"So far as I can see," said the General, acidly, "his ambitions are +rather to succeed at the bottom than at the top. The applause of the +multitude appeals to him more than the praise of his equals or +superiors." + +Lady Drummond glanced coldly at his heated face. + +"I fancy you've an attack of gout coming on, Denis," she said. "I should +send for Sir Harley Dix, if I were you." + +She had stopped the General just as he was on his own doorstep, setting +his face cheerfully eastwards on his way to Pall Mall. He had come back +with her. He knew his duty to his brother's widow better than to do +anything else. It was Wednesday, and on Wednesday there was always a +particular curry at lunch which he much affected. He was a connoisseur +in curries, and the _chef_ always made this with an eye to Sir Denis's +approval. He would have to shorten his walk and 'bus part of the way, or +the curry would be cold. He hated to be put out in his daily routine. + +"I never was freer from gout in my life, Matilda," he said, with +indignation. "I don't trouble the doctors much. When I want their advice +I shall ask for it. I always ask for advice when I want it." + +She looked at him with unconcern. + +"Do you think Nelly will soon be back?" she asked. + +"I don't know. When she takes the dogs for a walk she is often out for a +couple of hours. Perhaps it would be too long a time to wait." + +In his mind he could see the curry disappearing before the other men who +liked it as much as he did. Grogan would always eat curry--that special +curry--to the General's indignation. Why, curry was the last thing +Grogan ought to eat! Wasn't he as yellow as the curry itself with +chronic liver? Grogan was greedy over that curry--a greedy fellow, the +General said to himself, remembering the many occasions when it had been +impossible for him to break away from Grogan and his grievances. If her +Ladyship was going to sit on endlessly! The General's manners were too +good to leave her to sit by herself. And she was untying her bonnet +strings! He might as well lunch at home. No, he wouldn't do that, not if +her Ladyship was going to stay to lunch. He supposed he could have lunch +somewhere, if not at his club. + +"Pray, don't put yourself out for me, Denis," her Ladyship was saying, +with what passed for graciousness in her. "I know your usual habits. At +your age a man doesn't like to be put out of his habits. Don't mind me, +pray. I can amuse myself very well till Nelly comes in. Plenty of books +and papers, I see. You subscribe to Mudie's. I thought no one subscribed +to Mudie's now that we have so many Free Libraries. I have never been +able to afford myself a library subscription, even although we lived in +the country. Now that I am going to settle in town----" + +"Settle in town!" The General's eyes were almost starting from his head. +"I'd no idea, Matilda, you were going to settle in town. What's going to +become of the Court?" + +"I have an idea of letting it for a few years. Mr. Higbid, the very rich +hide merchant, has taken a fancy to the place. I have yet to hear what +Robin will say. Mr. Higbid is prepared to pay a fancy price----" + +"He'd have to before I'd let him into my drawing-room," said the +General, with disgust. "Imagine letting the Court! And to a man who +sells hides!" + +"His money is as good as anybody else's. And he is received everywhere. +You are really too old-fashioned, Denis. Your ways need altering." + +"I am too old to change, ma'am," said the General, getting up and giving +himself a shake like a dog. "If you don't really mind being left----" He +wanted to get away to think over the fact that the Dowager was going to +settle in town. He could hardly keep himself from groaning. His peace +was all at an end. If he had not been too old to change, he would have +fled from London and left it to the Dowager. But big as it was, it was +too little to contain himself and the Dowager with any prospect of +peace. + +"I'll stay and have lunch with Nelly," the Dowager went on, quite +ignorant of his perturbation. "Afterwards, I'm going to take her to see +houses with me. _Of course_, I shall settle in your immediate +neighbourhood, if I can find anything suitable. I'm going to take Nelly +off your hands a bit, take her about and advise her as to her frocks. +She was wearing white chiffon the last time we dined here--a most +perishable material. I don't think your purse is long enough for white +chiffon, Denis. Then the young people ought to see more of each other. +We ought to be talking about trousseaux----" + +But at this point the General fled. If he had stayed another second he +would have said things that his kind and chivalrous heart would have +grieved over later. He fled, and left her Ladyship staring after him in +amazement. + +He clean forgot about the curry in the fretting and fuming of his mind, +or it occurred to him only to be consigned to Grogan, as though Grogan +were a synonym for something much stronger. His fiery indignation +between Sherwood Square and Pall Mall was quite amazing. The Dowager in +the next street! Why, he might as well order his coffin. And talking +about taking Nelly from him. That muff, Robin, too! When had the fellow +shown any impatience? He didn't want the girl to marry an oyster. He +remembered the glory and glamour of his own love affair, of that golden +year of marriage. His Nelly ought to be loved as her mother had been +before her, as her mother's daughter deserved to be. He wasn't going to +yield her to a fellow who would only give her half his tepid heart, who +would leave her to spend her evenings alone while he spouted in Radical +clubs or in that big talking shop, the House of Commons. He wouldn't +have it. And still----Robin was poor Gerald's son, and there was nothing +against him but his politics. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, the +General recognised the fact that he could have forgiven the politics if +it had not been for the Dowager. + +He had almost reached the doors of his club--Grogan might eat the curry +for him, and be hanged to him!--when he saw advancing towards him the +spare, elegant figure that sat its horse in front of the regiment below +the General's window every morning. The oddest gleam came into his eyes. +The young man had recognised him, and was blushing like a girl as he +came towards him. He had velvety brown eyes and regular features, was a +handsome lad, the General said to himself as young Langrishe lifted his +hat from his sleek, well-shaped head. He had the barest acquaintance +with Sir Denis, and he would have passed by if the old soldier had not +stopped him. + +"How do you do, Captain Langrishe?" he said. "I am very much obliged to +you for the pleasure you give me every morning. I take it as uncommonly +kind of you to bring 'the boys' past my house. I assure you I quite look +forward to it--I quite look forward to it." + +Langrishe stammered something about the regiment delighting to do honour +to its old General, growing redder and redder as he did so. His +confusion became him in the General's eyes. He was certainly a +pleasant-looking, well-mannered boy, the General decided, and the +confusion of the young soldier in the presence of the old soldier an +entirely natural and creditable thing. + +"I'll tell you what, my lad," said Sir Denis, putting his arm within the +other's: "if you've nothing better to do, supposing you come and lunch +with me. I'm just going in to the club. And you--on your way to it? I +thought so. You'll give me the pleasure of your company?" + +The General was half an hour late, yet he found a small table in a +window recess unappropriated. It was set for two, and a screen was drawn +about it so that the two could be as retired as they wished. More--the +General had not been forgotten in the distribution of the curry. Their +portions came up piping hot. From where they sat the General could see +Sir Rodney Vivash and Grogan button-holing each other. They were the +bores of the club, and for once they had foregathered, willingly or +unwillingly. + +After all, there were compensations--there were compensations; and the +General was hungry. His manner towards young Langrishe had an air of +fatherly kindness. There was a gratified flush on the young fellow's +lean, dark cheek. What was it the General had heard about Langrishe? Oh, +yes, that he had had rough luck--that his old uncle. Sir Peter--the +General remembered him for a curmudgeon--had married and had a son, +after rearing the young fellow as his heir. No wonder the lad looked +careworn. The regiment was an expensive one; not too expensive for Sir +Peter Langrishe's heir, but much too expensive for a poor man. + +However, it was no business of the General's--not just yet. + +"You have met my daughter, I think?" he said. They were at the cheese by +this time, and the General was apparently divided between the merits of +Gruyere and Stilton. He did not glance at Captain Langrishe, but he knew +quite as well as if he had that the colour came again to his cheek, that +the brown eyes looked unhappily conscious. + +"I have met Miss Drummond several times," he answered. + +"Ah, you must dine with us one evening." + +Young Langrishe looked at him in a startled way. + +"Thank you very much, sir," he said, "but, as a matter of fact, I am +negotiating a change into an Indian regiment. I don't know how long I +shall be here. And I shall be very busy, I'm afraid." + +"Ah! Just as you like--just as you like." The General, by the easiest of +transitions, passed on to the subject of soldiering in India. He had an +unwontedly exhilarated feeling which later had its reaction in a +consciousness of guilt. + +"What would poor Gerald have said?" he thought, as he walked homewards +that evening. "And I've nothing against Robin--I've nothing really +against Robin, except his Peace Societies and all the rest of it. And +the Dowager--yes, there's always the Dowager. I should like to know what +on earth ever induced poor Gerald to marry the Dowager." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +GROVES OF ACADEME + + +After that keen disappointment about the baby's forgetting her, although +she excused it to herself, arguing that at twenty months one cannot be +expected to have a long memory, Mary was more reconciled to the changed +conditions of her life. + +"I hope we are going to be together for a good many years," Lady Anne +said, "and presently you must be able to play and sing to me, to read to +me and take an interest in the things in which I am interested. You are +to go to school, Mary." + +So Mary went to school, first to the Queen's Preparatory School, then to +the Queen's College. Her years there were very happy ones, especially +those years at the College, after she had found her feet and made +friends, and gained confidence in herself and the world. + +"She sucks up knowledge as a sponge sucks up water," was the report of +the Principal, Miss Merton, to the delighted Lady Anne. "I hope Lady +Anne, that you will permit her to go in for her B.A. I should not be +surprised, indeed, if she captured a fellowship." + +"No fellowships," Lady Anne said, firmly. "What would she do with a +fellowship? I propose, as soon as she has done with you, to take her +abroad. I have a mind to see the world again through young eyes. And it +will put the coping-stone on her education. I shouldn't dare leave her +too long with you. Learning so often destroys a woman's imagination. +They work too hard, I suppose. It doesn't seem to come natural to them +yet as it does to men." + +"There's no question of Mary's working too hard," the Lady Principal +said, bearing these hard sayings of Lady Anne's with composure. "She has +fine brains. Whatever she wants in an intellectual way she can come at +easily." + +Mary, indeed, took her B.A. without over-much burning of the midnight +oil. Afterwards she always spoke with the tenderest affection of her old +school-days. She recalled with delight the spacious class-rooms, the old +garden with its great woodland trees, and the tiny rooms of the girls +who were in residence at the College, with their quaint and pretty +adornments--the place of so much young _camaraderie_ and soaring +ambition and happy emulation. "I can hardly remember that anyone was +ever unkind," she used to say long afterwards. + +As a matter of fact, the band of elder students with whom Mary was +connected in her latter days at the College had a generous enthusiasm +for her beauty, taking it as in a sense a credit to themselves. + +"You will be a living answer to them," said Jessie Baynes, who was small +and plain-looking, "when they say that learned women are always ugly." + +And the whole of the class applauded her speech. + +"I shall love to see you in your cap and gown," Jessie went on, firing +at the picture in her own imagination. "Very few of the men will be +taller than you, Mary. How they will shout!" + +Jessie had no thought at all of her own lack of height and grace, as she +had no idea of how pleasant her little brown face was despite its +plainness. She was going to earn her living by teaching, and, what was +more, going to make living easier and pleasanter for her mother and her +young sister. To get her mother out of stuffy town lodgings to a seaside +cottage, which was an unattainable heaven to the mother's thoughts, to +educate Edie and give her a chance in life--these were the things that +filled Jessie's mind to the exclusion of fear whenever she thought of +her ordeal at the conferring of the University degrees. To be sure, she +trembled a little when she thought of the long, brilliantly lighted +Hall, and all the fine ladies, and the scarlet robes of the Senators, +and the young barbarians in the gallery, and all the thousands of eyes +fixed on the one little dumpling of a woman going up to receive her +degree. If she might only win the fellowship! She would not care what +ordeal she passed through for that. So she put away the fear from her +mind. If she could only win the fellowship! But she was too humble about +her own attainments to have more than a little, little hope of that. + +How generous they all were, Mary thought, with an impulse of gratitude +towards those dear class-fellows that brought the tears to her eyes. + +"When we are photographed in our caps and gowns," said another, "you +must stand up in the middle of us, Mary, so that they will see how tall +you are." + +Mary reported their generosity to Lady Anne, with whom, by this time, +she was on the loving terms that cast out fear. + +"Very creditable to them," the old lady said, twinkling. "Don't let it +make you vain, Mary. You're well enough, but you aren't half as pretty +as a rose, or half as tall as a tree, and there are thousands of trees +and roses in the world." + +"I don't think myself pretty," Mary said, in a hurt voice. "There are +several of the girls far prettier. As for being tall, it is no pleasure. +I would much rather be little." + +"Your skirts will always cost you more than other girls'." + +"It is only because they are so kind and generous that they think well +of me," Mary went on. "And, oh! I do hope that Jessie will win the +fellowship. Everyone does, even----" + +"Even her opponents," the old lady said, drily. It was always Lady +Anne's way to seem cynical over things, even with those she loved best. + +"She has worked so hard for it," said Mary, "and Alice Egerton, who is +in the running, too, has shaken hands with Jessie, and told her that if +she wins it will only prove she is the better man." + +"Dear me, we are cultivating the manly virtues, too," said Lady Anne. +"Let me see: there are twenty young ladies in your class, and not a +spiteful one among them. I have never heard of so low a percentage." + +"If women were given something to think of besides petty interests," +Mary began hotly. "If they were educated, if they were given ideals----" + +"You are only on your trial yet, child," Lady Anne suggested. "We +produced very good women before Women's Colleges were heard of. I'm glad +they've not spoilt you, anyhow. No stooped shoulders, no narrow chest, +no dimmed eyes. I couldn't have forgiven them if they had made you pay a +price for your learning." + +When Mary received her B.A. degree she was applauded more rapturously +from the gallery than even the new Fellow, Miss Jessica Baynes, B.A., +who knew little enough about her own reception, since, as she left the +dais, she had glanced up and made out her mother's little nutcracker +face, so like her own, in one of the circles of faces overhead. + +There was a little group in the balcony watching Mary with fond pride. +Lady Anne Hamilton's face shone again as the tall, slender young figure +went up amid the furious applause of the undergraduates, through which +the general clapping of hands could hardly be heard. Behind Lady Anne +were Mary's father and stepmother. Lady Anne had taken care that they +should not be forgotten in the distribution of tickets. Walter Gray +looked on quietly. He was very proud of his girl; but he had, perhaps, +too great a wisdom to set much store by the plaudits of the many. Mrs. +Gray, in a bonnet Mary had made for her and a mantle which had been +Mary's gift, was in a timid rapture. She was older by some years than +she had been when Mary went to Lady Anne first, but she was far more +comely. Her family seemed to have reached its limits, for one thing, and +she was no more the helpless drudge she had been. Several of the +children were at school, and that wonderfully elastic salary of Mary's +had done miraculous things in the way of bringing comfort and even +refinement to Walter Gray's home. + +"Well," said Lady Anne, turning round, and touching Walter Gray's arm, +"I have not made too bad a fairy godmother, have I, now?" + +"She would never have grown so tall," Walter Gray said, with absent +eyes. He had yielded up Mary for her good, but he had never ceased to +miss her. + +One person who sat among the most distinguished group in the Hall looked +at Mary with a lively interest. + +"What a charming girl!" she said to her host, a very great person. + +"I believe she has been adopted as a sort of companion by old Lady Anne +Hamilton, who is a cousin of my wife's," he responded. "The girl has +been educated at her expense. Yes, it's a pretty thing. I only hope it +won't become a blue-stocking." + +"I must positively know her," said the lady. "She interests me." + +"You make me jealous," returned the great person, with playful +gallantry. + +Lady Agatha had been a peeress in her own right since she had attained +the tender age of two years. Her father and mother had died too early +for her to miss them, and she had shown from her childhood a capacity to +think for herself, which nurses and governesses and all such persons +looked on as absolutely shocking. She had had a guardian, a soft, +woolly, comfortable gentleman whose will she had brushed aside and +replaced by her own from the time she was eight years old. Legally, she +was not of age till twenty-one; in reality, she was of age at fifteen or +thereabouts. She consulted Colonel St. John, her guardian, about her +affairs, as an act of grace, because she was so fond of him and wouldn't +hurt his feelings for anything; but she made no secret of the fact that +at twenty-one she was going to be absolutely her own mistress. + +"You are your own mistress now," Colonel St. John said once, a little +ruefully. "You never do what I wish--you make me do what _you_ wish. +Don't go too fast, Agatha, my dear. At twenty-one one is not wiser than +old people, though one may feel so." + +But he knew that he was talking to empty air. She was so eager to lay +hold on life. And she was equipped for it--there was no doubt of that. +Mr. Grainger, of Grainger, Ellison and Wells, who had had charge of the +business of the estate from time immemorial, whose trade it was to be +cautious, was cheerful over the Colonel's misgivings. + +"You wouldn't feel anxious if she was a lad," he said. "I'd set her +against nine hundred and ninety lads out of a thousand for sound +common-sense. She won't do anything foolish. Take my word for it, she +won't do anything foolish." + +She did not do anything foolish. She took her own way about some things +against Colonel St. John, and even against Mr. Grainger, but she turned +out to be right in the end. She had a good many people dependent in one +way or another upon her for their well-being, and she insisted on coming +face to face with these--on dealing with them without an intermediary. +And she made no mistakes. She could see through shifty dishonesty as +well as if she had had three times her years and a wide knowledge of the +seamy side of human nature. She had always been an outdoor girl, and now +she displayed a knowledgeable interest in her own Home Farm and in the +affairs of her tenants. + +She used to say that the days were not long enough for all she had to +do. Certainly, she contrived to cram into them three times as much +pleasure, business, and philanthropy as her neighbours. + +She had an idea of the obligations of her position as lady of the soil +which made poor Colonel St. John gasp when she talked about it. There +was so much to be done for the people--churches to be built, or chapels, +if they preferred them, and school-houses, industries to be fostered--so +much encouragement to be given to honest endeavour. Her idea was that +the land should afford all the people wished for. She was going to stop +the terrible drifting of the people into the towns. Their lives were to +be made gayer. There should be entertainments. The farmers' wives and +daughters were to make butter and cheese like their forbears, to grow +fruit and vegetables, to rear poultry and sell eggs; but they were not, +therefore, to lead a life of narrow toil. They were to be rewarded for +their skill and industry. The fruit of their labours was to make life +sweeter and pleasanter for them. There were to be libraries and +reading-rooms, debating clubs, social gatherings. + +"Stuff and nonsense!" Colonel St. John said, with his cotton-wool +eyebrows puffed out. "She'll dip the estate, and then she'll be coming +to ask us to pull her out. Worse, she'll only make them discontented." + +"She'll come out all right," Mr. Grainger said, rubbing his hands softly +together. "If she blunders, she'll learn wisdom from the experiment. +You'll see she'll come out all right, Colonel. The only thing that +troubles me is that she may have no time to get married. We don't want +her to be a spinster, hey? I confess I should like to see the succession +assured." + +It was this notable young lady who came in not so long after to Queen's +College, where a distinguished woman of letters was giving a series of +lectures on "The Poetry of the Sixteenth Century." Her entrance created +somewhat of a flutter. She was as tall as Mary Gray, but much more +opulently built. She had short, curling, dark hair, irregular features, +and violet eyes--not a bit handsome, but big and bonny and lovesome. Her +dress fluttered even these students. It was of purple velvet, with a +great stole of sables, and her sable muff had a big bunch of real +violets, which brought an odour of the quickening and burgeoning earth. + +She sat by the Lady Principal, and afterwards had tea with the students. +She asked especially for an introduction to Mary Gray, and then she +insisted on driving her as far as the Mall in her motor-car, which she +drove herself, while the chauffeur sat with folded arms behind. On the +way she talked poetry and politics with the same fervour she brought to +all her pursuits. + +"It has been borne in on me," she said vehemently, "that in working +among my own people as I have been doing I have been only tinkering at +things, just tinkering. One has to go to the root of the matter, to +abolish unjust laws, to replace them by good ones. Supposing I made my +estate, as I hope to make it, a Utopia, still there would be hundreds of +estates where the people would be in misery. It ought not to be left to +our good will to do things. We should be compelled to do them." + +Mary watched the flashing eyes with the greatest admiration. She felt +that Lady Agatha was a glorious creature, for whom she could do +anything. The hero-worship which is latent in the heart of all young +people worth their salt sprang into sudden life. Lady Agatha glanced at +her, noticed her expression, and smiled a rich, sweet, gratified smile. +She had made a disciple. To make a disciple was very pleasant to one of +her temperament. Like most women, she was a thorough propagandist. + +As she swept up to the gate of Lady Anne's house, the old lady herself +was standing just within it. She had come in from driving her little +pony phaeton, which she liked to drive herself. She had a little wild, +bright-eyed mountain pony, which would eat sugar and apples from her +hands, and was as much of a pet as a dog. + +"Well, Mary," she said, "introduce me. How do you do, Lady Agatha? I +know you by sight already. Won't you come inside and have some tea? I'm +very glad my Chloe didn't meet that uncanny monster of yours. I have +something to do to get her past the trams, I can tell you, much less the +motorcars." + +"You shouldn't go out alone," Mary said, with tender concern. "Her +little pony is very wild, Lady Agatha, and she won't take the carriage, +unless she goes visiting." + +"You want to make me out an old woman," Lady Anne said, "and I shall +never be that. Come along in, Lady Agatha. I've been hearing about you. +What do you mean by making my tenants discontented? They're very well as +they are. We shall have to form a league against you, we indolent ones." + +Her Ladyship had a way of winning her welcome wherever she went. Lady +Anne had begun, like a good many other people, with a certain distrust +of the brilliant young woman who desired to conquer so many kingdoms. In +the end she yielded unreservedly. + +"A fine, big-hearted, generous creature," she said. "It makes me young +to look at her and hear her talk. And so she has taken a huge fancy to +my Mary. Very well, then, she can come and go; but she's not to have my +Mary for all that, for I want her for myself." + +"No one really wants me," said Mary, with suddenly dimmed eyes, "except +you and papa. But if they did they couldn't have me. I belong to you and +papa." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE RACE WITH DEATH + + +It might have been considered great promotion for the daughter of Walter +Gray, who attended all day to the ailments of watches with a magnifying +glass stuck in his eye, to be the friend of Lady Agatha Chenevix as well +as the adopted child almost of Lady Anne Hamilton. Indeed, in the early +days, when Lady Agatha's friendship for Mary brought her into the finest +society the country provided, Lady Anne sometimes watched Mary narrowly, +to see how she was taking it. The result of these observations must have +been quite satisfactory to the old lady, judging by the energetic +shaking of her head after one or two of these occasions when she was +alone and thought over things. Once she spoke her thoughts to Lady +Agatha, to whom, indeed, she found herself often talking in a way that +surprised herself. There was something about the minx that forced even a +suspicious and reticent old lady into trust and confidence, and as her +trust and confidence increased so did her affection for the brilliant +young peeress. + +"People said I was mad," she remarked, "when I took Mary Gray into my +house, and into my heart. Matilda Drummond even said--and I have never +forgotten it to her--that if she was my nephew, Jarvis, she'd have my +condition of mind inquired into. Yet see how it has turned out! Is she +spoilt? Is she an upstart? Is she set above her family? She's over there +this minute with that poor little drab stepmother of hers. She worships +her father. The joys and sorrows of the poor little household are as +much to her to-day as the day she left them." + +"I know," said Lady Agatha. "She's pure gold. I saw it in her face the +first day I laid eyes on her. The only quarrel I have with her is that +so many people push me out with her. I don't mean you, of course, Lady +Anne. But yesterday I could not have her because she must go to your +doctor's wife, and to-day she was going for a long walk with that little +Miss Baynes. To-morrow it will be her father. It is his free afternoon." + +"I heard an amusing thing about the father the other day," said Lady +Anne. "Of course, Mary knows nothing about it. I called at +Gordon's--that is where Mr. Gray is employed--about a new catch for my +amethyst bracelet. I have known Mr. Gordon for years. He is a thoroughly +respectable man. It seems there is a very ill-conditioned person who +works in the same room as Mr. Gray--a good workman, but most +ill-conditioned. When he is especially bad-tempered he vents his anger +on his quiet room-fellow, who never seems to hear him but works away as +though he were a thousand miles distant from the grumbling and scolding. +Well, it seems that the other day, despairing, perhaps, of rousing Mr. +Gray by any other methods, he made a reference to Mary as having got +into fine society and looking down on her father. It's a little place, +after all, my dear, and you and your motor-car are known as well as the +Town Hall. Mr. Gray got up very quietly and threw the man downstairs; +then went back to his work without a word. Gordon saw it in quite the +right way. He said that the person thoroughly well deserved it, but that +the next time he mightn't get off with a few bruises, and that would be +awkward for Mr. Gray. So he has given him another room." + +"Ah, bravo!" Lady Agatha clapped her hands together. "That's where Mary +gets it. I've seen the light of battle in her eye--haven't you?" + +"Sometimes--when she has heard of cruelty and injustice." + +Now that Mary's schooling was over, she was to see the world under Lady +Anne's auspices. They were to go abroad soon after Christmas, to be in +Rome for Easter, to dawdle about the Continent where they would and for +as long as they would. Everything was planned and mapped out. Mary had +her neat travelling-dress of grey cloth, tailor-made, her close-fitting +toque, her veil and gloves, all her equipment, lying ready to put on. +Her old friend, Simmons, had packed her travelling trunk. It had come to +almost the last day. + +And, to be sure, Mary must be much with her father and the others during +those last hours. She had gone with her father for a long country walk. + +"I wish you were coming, too," said Mary, clinging closely to his arm. + +"You will be bringing me back fine stories," her father said, patting +her hand. "I shall be seeing the world through your eyes, child." + +"I shall write to you every day." + +"I shan't expect that, Mary. You will be moving from place to place. I +know you will write when you can, and I am always sure of your love." + +While they talked Lady Anne was receiving Dr. Carruthers professionally. +She had had symptoms, weaknesses, pangs, of which she had told nobody. + +"I was inclined to go without telling you anything about it, doctor," +she said. "I was as keen upon it as the child. I am more disappointed +than she will be. I have been wilful all my life, but I am glad I did +not take my own way this time. It would have been a nice thing for poor +Mary if I had been taken ill in some of those foreign places." + +"You will be much better in your own comfortable home." + +Dr. Carruthers spoke cheerfully, but he could not keep the anxiety out +of his face. + +"You must have suffered a deal lately," he said pityingly. He had not +forgotten what Lady Anne had done for him and his Mildred. She had been +their faithful and kind friend from that propitious day when he had +picked Mary Gray from under the feet of the tram-horses. His position +was now an assured one, and he and his wife had a tender affection for +their benefactress. + +"I'm an obstinate old woman," said Lady Anne, with very bright eyes. The +doctor's visit had been an ordeal to her. "I have had the pain off and +on for the last few months, but I assured myself that it was merely +indigestion, which mimics so many things. I am glad my common-sense came +to the rescue at last. Do you think I shall go off suddenly, or shall I +have to lie, panting, like those poor creatures I've seen at the +hospital, labouring for breath? I shouldn't like that." + +The doctor shook his head. How was he to know when the worn-out heart +would cease to perform its functions, and after what manner? + +"We must hope that you will not suffer," he said gently. "I will do my +best to save you that." + +"And I've plenty of spirit for whatever the good God sends," Lady Anne +said, her face lighting up. "I've always had great spirit. They said I +pulled through my childish illnesses twice as well because of my spirit. +I remember my dear mother telling me that when I had croup at two years +old I mimicked the cows and sheep and cats and dogs between the +paroxysms. I was just the same later on. I ought to have married a +soldier. My poor husband was a man of peace. He couldn't bear a loud +voice. Have a glass of wine before you go, doctor. I've just had a +bottle of Comet port opened. Try it. There's very little like it left in +the world." + +After Dr. Carruthers had taken his departure she went to her desk and +set about writing a letter. But she paused after she had written a few +lines, looked at the clock, and sat for a minute thinking. + +"No," she said aloud. "I won't wait till to-morrow. Mary shan't take the +chances. Who knows if I shall be here to-morrow? If I drive out to +Marleigh I shall just catch Buckton. He will be pottering round that +orchid-house of his. He will just be home from the office. He can make +me a new will there as well as here. Indeed, I ought not to have +postponed it for so long." + +She ordered her little pony phaeton. It was nearly five o'clock. There +would be plenty of time to drive to Marleigh Abbey, where her lawyer +lived, to interview him, and get back again before it was dark. She +would make Mary's interests safe. She had come to care for the child +more than she had ever expected to care. She was going to make a +provision for her, so that she should be secure against the chances and +changes of this life. Nothing very startling, nothing that need make +Jarvis grumble to any great extent; just a modest provision which would +not keep Mary from making use of the talents with which God had endowed +her and the education her fairy godmother had given her. + +It was not long before she had left the town behind, and was driving +along the winding road that ran by the foot of the mountains. The road +was very lonely. + +Chloe was rather nervous, not to say hysterical, on this particular +afternoon. Her mistress had not considered her as was her wont. She had +taken the shortest road, forcing her to meet a black monster of a +steam-tram which she had sometimes seen at a distance, a thing which was +her special abomination. Chloe had made a bolt for it, and had passed +the tram safely and got away on to the back road. She had been +accustomed, when she had made her small runaways before, to be petted +and soothed afterwards. Indeed, as soon as her terror had calmed a +little, and she was on the road she knew to be harmless, she slackened +down, expecting to hear her mistress's voice of tender scolding, to have +her mistress alight and stroke her with soft words. Instead of that she +was touched up pretty sharply. + +"Get me there, my girl," said Lady Anne. "Get me there quickly. You can +take your time going home, and we'll go the lower road. I feel as though +Death and I were running a race. I could never forgive myself if I died +before I'd provided for Mary." + +The pony gave her head a shake as though in answer to her mistress's +words, pricked up her ears and set off at a sharp canter. + +Suddenly something happened. Lady Anne had at first no realisation of +what it was. Jennings, the coachman, said afterwards that it must have +been the work of one of the mischievous lads whom he had driven with his +whip from staring in at his stable door. What happened was that the +pony's bridle, which had been snipped with a knife, had come apart, +fallen about her neck and then under her feet. She was off like the +wind. + +As for poor Lady Anne, suddenly rendered helpless, she caught at the +side of the little carriage, which was being dragged violently at the +pony's heels. She had need of all her spirit. Fortunately, the road was +a straight one, but there was not a soul in sight to help her, not a +sower in the fields, not a ploughman, not even a boy herding cattle +along the road. Her right hand still grasped the useless rein. She +stared before her, while the rocking of the little carriage grew more +and more violent, and the hedges and trees flew past them. How long +would it be before the terrified pony shook herself free of the carriage +altogether, or upset it on one of those mud-banks? + +The old spirit kept wonderfully calm and collected. There was just one +chance--that Chloe might keep the middle of the road, and presently pull +up of herself, being exhausted. If only the phaeton would not rock so +much. It was swaying from side to side at a terrific rate. The few +seconds of the runaway seemed aeons of time to Lady Anne. She was holding +on now to both sides of the carriage, but her arm was through the reins. +Thank Heaven, the road seemed absolutely open and Chloe must exhaust +herself soon. + +Then--her eyes were distended in her face. They had swung round a little +incline, with a miraculous escape of running on a heap of shingle +intended for mending the roads. Just ahead of them were the lodge gates +and lodge of a big house. The gates were open. Out through them there +toddled a small child about three years old. The child set out to cross +the road. His attention was arrested by the noise of the runaway. He +stood in the middle of the road staring. + +Lady Anne uttered a loud, sharp cry. The child moved a few steps, fell, +and lay directly in the path of Chloe's feet. A woman ran out of the +lodge, screaming "Patsy, Patsy; where are you, Patsy?" Then she began to +wring her hands and call on all the saints. + +The pony, however, had of herself come to a standstill. The child was +under her feet, between her four little hoofs. She was shaking and +sweating and looking down. As for the child, after a second or so he +broke into a lusty roar. He was only frightened, not hurt, but it took a +little time for the mother to find that out by reason of the mud on his +face and the noise he was making. When she had reassured herself, she +carried him inside and closed the door of the lodge upon him. Then she +returned to the pony-carriage. + +Chloe was still standing there, in a piteous state of terror. Someone +was coming along the road--a policeman. Someone else was running from +the opposite direction. + +As for Lady Anne, the little figure had fallen forward. Her forehead was +down on the reins. Her eyes were wide open, and had a mortal terror in +their gaze. She would never set things right for Mary in this world. She +and Death had run a race together, and she had been beaten. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +DISPOSSESSED + + +Lady Anne's nephew and heir, Lord Iniscrone, showed no friendly face to +Mary. He came as soon as possible, and took possession of the premises. +Lady Iniscrone was with him. She was a lady with a wide, flat, doughy +face. Her eyes were little and pale and cold. Mary thought afterwards +that if it had not been for Lady Iniscrone, Lord Iniscrone might have +been kinder. She remembered that Lady Anne had detested Lady Iniscrone +to the extent that she would never have her inside the house. She had an +idea, which she could not put away, while she hated it, that Lady +Iniscrone remembered that fact. She took possession of everything +thoroughly, as though she revenged herself on the dead woman. In her +cold speech she disparaged the things Lady Anne had held dear. + +Their attitude towards Mary was as though she were a servant no longer +necessary. She was not to eat at their table; she was to eat in her own +room or in the servants' hall. + +"Is it Miss Gray, my lady?" Saunders, the elderly parlourmaid, asked, +aghast. "Her Ladyship thought the world of Miss Gray. She might have +been her own child. And I will say, though we didn't hold with it at +first, yet----" + +Lady Iniscrone closed the discussion haughtily. + +"Miss Gray will have her meals in the servants' hall, or in her own room +if she prefers it, till after the funeral. We shall make other +arrangements then, of course." + +Saunders flounced out of the room. Although she was elderly and had +lived in Lady Anne Hamilton's house since she was fourteen, when she had +come as a between-maid, she had not forgotten how to flounce. + +"Mark my words," she said in the kitchen, "she'll make a clean sweep of +us, same as Miss Mary, as soon as ever the funeral is over. Supposing as +how _we_ gives the notice!" + +And they did, to Lady Iniscrone's discomfiture, for she had intended to +stay on at the Mall and to keep the staff as it stood till she had +supplied its place. However, she showed her dismay only by her bad +temper. + +"I suppose you've all pretty well feathered your nests," she said +acridly, "and can afford to retire." + +Nor was her bitterness lessened by the fact that Lady Anne had left +handsome legacies to each of the servants, annuities to the elder ones, +sums of money to the younger. But the will, dated some years back, made +no mention at all of Mary Gray. + +"It seems clear to me," said Mr. Buckton, talking the matter over with +Lord Iniscrone, her Ladyship being present, "that Lady Anne intended to +make some provision for her _protegee_. In fact, the letter which she +had begun writing to me, which was found in her blotter after her death, +plainly indicates that. She was, apparently, on her way to my house when +the lamentable accident happened. Dr. Carruthers had seen her that +afternoon, and had told her that her heart was in a bad way. I believe +she grew alarmed about the unprovided state in which she would leave +Miss Gray if she had a sudden seizure, and hurried off to me. In the +circumstances----" + +"Of course, we could not think of doing anything more for Miss Gray," +Lady Iniscrone put in, anticipating her lord. "She has already been +dealt with very handsomely out of the estate. She has had a most +unsuitable education for a person in her rank of life. She has lived +like a lady; been clothed like one. When I saw her she was wearing +ornaments--a brooch of amethysts, with pearls around it, I remember, +which, I am sure, ought to belong to the estate. I can't see that Lord +Iniscrone is called upon to do anything more for the young person. What +with those absurd legacies to the servants and the way Lady Anne +lived--a big house and a staff of servants and carriages and horses for +one old lady!--the estate has been impoverished." + +"Lady Anne had a great sense of her own dignity," the lawyer put in. +"And this house had been her home for more than fifty years." + +"Everything needs replacing," Lady Iniscrone grumbled, with a +disparaging look around. "Those curtains and carpets----" + +"Your Lordship will, I am sure, feel that, in making some little +provision for Miss Gray, you will be doing what Lady Anne wished and +intended to do," Mr. Buckton said earnestly, turning from the lady to +her husband. + +Lord Iniscrone's eyes fluttered nervously. He was not a bad little man +at heart, but he was entirely ruled by his wife. + +"I don't think the estate will bear it, Mr. Buckton," he said in a +peevish voice. "It is heavily burdened as it is. If a five-pound note +would be of any use----" + +"I can't see that we are called upon to do anything, Jarvis," his wife +put in again. "In fact, Mr. Buckton, you may take it that we do not +intend to do anything more for Miss Gray." + +"Very well, Lady Iniscrone." + +Mr. Buckton turned away and busied himself with his papers. He could not +trust himself at the moment to speak lest he should forget his +professional discretion. + +But Mary had not waited for the result of his intercession on her +behalf, of which, indeed, she knew nothing. Mary, who was sensitive to +every breath of praise and blame, had fled out of the dear house, the +atmosphere of which had become suddenly unfriendly. A good many friends +would have been glad to have had her. Lady Agatha Chenevix was away, +else she would have been by her friend's side to take her part with +passionate generosity and indignation. She was away, but Jessie Baynes's +little house on the edge of the sea, a bare little homely place, full of +sunlight and the sea-wind, had its doors open to her. One could not +imagine a better place for a sad and sorrowful heart than Jessie's +little spare room, with its balcony opening like the deck of a ship on +to the blue floor of the sea. Mildred Carruthers had come at once, in +the first hour of the girl's grief, to carry her off to the big house, +which was now amply justified by the size of the doctor's practice. + +Only, where would Mary go to but home? In all those years in the great +house on the Mall she had never come to find Wistaria Terrace too little +and lowly for her. Indeed, there was a wonderful wholesomeness and +sweetness to her mind about the little house. The transfiguring mists of +her love lay rosily over even the drudgery of her childish days. To be +sure, there had been hard work and short commons. She had been +insufficiently clad in winter, too heavily clad in summer. Her people +had gone without fires and many other things which some would have +considered essential. But there had always been love. Looking back on +those days, Mary saw with the eyes of the spirit which miss out +immaterial material things. + +She fled back home. She took nothing with her but what she stood up in. +Only her friend, Simmons, while Lady Iniscrone was absent from the +house, packed up all Mary's belongings, and conveyed them, with the +assistance of the coachman, across the lane to Wistaria Terrace. The +servants had made up their minds that Mary was not coming back. + +Lady Iniscrone had hoped, in conversation with Lord Iniscrone, that Mary +would not give them any trouble. Never was anyone less inclined to give +trouble than Mary. Not for worlds would she have gone back to the house +where the new cold rule was, to meet Lady Iniscrone's unfriendly eyes. +Only while the body of her benefactress was yet above ground she had +stolen across at quiet hours, in the absence of the enemy, to look for +the last time on the quiet face. She had carried away little Fifine. +Fifine was seventeen years old now, and shook incessantly and moaned in +a lost way in her darkness. But she knew Mary's voice. Mary was the one +that could comfort her. At Wistaria Terrace they went to the unheard-of +extravagance of having a fire in Mary's room, day after day, so that +Fifine might lie before it in a basket, and feel the warmth in her +little bones, and hear Mary's voice. + +The day of the funeral came. Mary stood by the graveside quietly, with a +veil down over her face. Walter Gray was by her side. She had come in +the doctor's carriage, and she had no leisure or thought for the +insolence with which Lady Iniscrone stared at her, as though her +presence there required explanation. + +She was going to work, to begin at once. Her dear, kind old friend, who +had meant to do so well by her, had at least equipped her for earning +her own bread. The Lady Principal of Queen's College had found her +work--temporary work, to be sure, but something to go on with till she +could look about her. The Lady Principal and Dr. Carruthers were against +her making any definite plans till Lady Agatha Chenevix should +return--she was in America, arranging for a display of her industries at +a forthcoming exhibition. They had an idea that Lady Agatha would expect +to be consulted in any plan that affected her friend's future. + +Returning home after the funeral Mary found that all her attention would +be required for a short time for Fifine. The little dog had had a fit or +something of the kind, and had rallied wonderfully, considering her +great age. She had missed her one friend during that hour of absence. +Dr. Carruthers came in and looked at the dog, stooping to examine it +with as much tender care as though it had been human and a paying +patient. "Keep her warm," he said. "There isn't much else possible. +There is nothing the matter, only old age. She seems to know you, Mary. +She is positively wagging her tail." + +"She is miserable without me," Mary said, wondering what she was to do +about Fifine when she took up that temporary work which the Lady +Principal of Queen's College had found for her. Meanwhile she devoted +herself to the little creature. But about three days after Lady Anne's +funeral Fifine solved all difficulties concerning her by dying quietly +in the night. + +Mary slipped in stealthily to the garden of the old house when the new +owners were not likely to be about, and placed the little rigid body in +the grave Jennings had dug for it, lined with a few flowers that had +come up in the beds, snowdrops and wallflowers and little pale mauve +double primroses. She wept a few bitter tears above the grave. The death +of the little dog was like her last link with her dear old friend. The +day had the bright, clear, strong sunshine of March. There were yet +drifts of snow in the valleys among the hills, but spring was coming, +and the bare boughs would soon be thick with the buds of leafage. She +took one look at the sunny, green place and the old house which had +harboured her so kindly. Then she went away with a drooping head. + +That very afternoon Lady Agatha came. She rushed in on Mary like the +March wind, big and beautiful, in her long cloak of orange-tawny velvet, +breathing fire and fury over the unkindness to Mary. She had interviewed +Lady Iniscrone, and had gathered from her what had been happening. + +"In one way I am selfishly glad, Mary, because you will belong so much +more to me. I am going to take possession of you. For the first time for +many years Chenevix House is to be opened this season. I am going to be +among the political hostesses. I shall do all sorts of things. I have +found a dear old lady to live with us, my father's twenty-second cousin, +Mrs. Morres. She will make it possible for me to do the things I want +without running tilt against all the windmills of prejudice. I shall +respect your mourning. You will have your own room to which you can +retire. Chenevix House looks over a quiet, green square. You shall see +the spring come even there. Afterwards, when the season is at an end, we +shall bury ourselves in the green country." + +She paused for breath, and Mary smiled at her. She was so big and bonny +and generous it was impossible not to smile at her. + +"Where do I come in?" she asked. "I want to earn my bread." + +"And so you shall. You shall earn it hard. You are to be my secretary, +Mary. I am going to be a leading Radical lady. They want hostesses. +There are things a woman can do for a cause much better than a man. I +consider my wealth, at least, my comparative wealth, my rank and youth +and energy and brains, and my splendid health, as so many weapons given +to me by God so that I may help the right." + +"You forget your charm," Mary reminded her. "It is the most potent of +all." + +Lady Agatha suddenly blushed. It was the first time Mary had seen her +blush. + +"Charm--oh, come, Mary! Why not beauty if you are inclined to flatter?" + +"Yes, indeed; why not beauty?" Mary repeated, looking at her with loving +eyes of admiration. + +"A big, black, bounding beggar!" Lady Agatha quoted against herself +merrily. + +But Mary was not inclined to make any further excursions from home. The +soul in her was chilled by her recent experiences. In her hurt and +unhappy state the little house at Wistaria Terrace seemed most +desirable. It gave her satisfaction to note the discomforting things +about her--the bare floor, the windows that shook and rattled, the +ill-fitting doors, the ugliness of the painted dressing-table from which +the paint had long departed, the chipped jug and basin that did not +match each other. She liked it all, even the carelessness about meals, +for there was love with it. Her younger sisters growing up had a kind of +worship for Mary. They served her out of pure love. She was not allowed +to do anything for herself. Yes, for the present, at least, home was +best. She could go out and earn money and bring it home to them. She +would stay henceforth in the world into which she had been born. She +would make no more excursions. + +However, these thoughts of hers were rendered vain by the fact that +Walter Gray positively took Lady Agatha's part against her. There was no +room for Mary in the cramped life of Wistaria Terrace. She had brains +and beauty and sympathy. The opportunity to make use of these gifts was +given her. She must not reject it. + +The thing was put on a business basis. Mary was to be Lady Agatha's +secretary, with a handsome salary. "I shall work you till you cry out," +her Ladyship promised, and it seemed like enough to be true. She was +talking already of writing a novel when they should retire to the +country. Her energy overflowed. She was perpetually seeking new outlets +for it. Her secretary was not likely to enjoy a sinecure. + +"No one but you could have sent me from you again," Mary said to her +father, in tender reproach. + +"It is for your good, Moll. You have outgrown Wistaria Terrace. We could +not long have contented you." + +But Mary shook her head. She thought she would have been very well +content at home. She could have got plenty of teaching to do. She +thought of the little house as of a resting place from which she was to +be debarred. But she would not dispute her father's will for her. He +rallied her, saying that if they kept her her head and shoulders would +presently be pushing themselves above the slates. + +"It was big enough for you," she said indignantly, "and your mind rises +to greater heights than mine ever will. You cramped yourself into it, if +it were a question of cramping. Why should not I?" + +"Sometimes it was not big enough, Moll," he answered. "Sometimes it was +sore cramping, and at other times it was big enough to contain the +heaven and all the stars. Perhaps the ambition I flung away for myself I +keep for you. I would not have you at microscopic work all your days." + +So it was settled. For a little while longer Mary stayed on at home. +Then, when the leaves were just opening out in pale green silk, and all +the world was fragrant and full of the joy of birds, she went, +unwillingly, and turning back many times to make her sorrowful +farewells. + +"I don't want you to stay till you begin to feel cramped," Walter Gray +had said. "I had rather you went away with your illusions." + +She did carry away her illusions. It was a happy and blessed thing for +her that she could make illusions about common things all the days she +was to live. Yet somewhere, in her hidden heart, she knew her father was +right. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE LION + + +Mary was established, high up in Chenevix House. She was amazed at the +spaciousness of the rooms, the feeling in them as though the streets +were far away. The square was a wonder of waving and tossing green, +across which Mary looked from her window and saw other stately old +houses like the one she was in. At first she was never tired of admiring +the miracle of spring in London. She realised that no country greenness +is equal to the glory of the new leaf against the dingy house-fronts, +the green freshness about the black stems and boughs and branches. + +Lady Agatha was in a perpetual whirl of affairs and gaiety. All her +days, and her nights into the small hours, seemed to be filled. At this +time Mary had a great deal of her time to herself. In the morning she +wrote her Ladyship's letters, and selected from the newspapers such +things as her Ladyship ought to read. By-and-by she would be much +busier. She was taking lessons in short-hand and type-writing in the +afternoons. Her Ladyship would come in only in time to dress for dinner. +She had been driving in the park, she had been calling, she had been at +a concert, or a matinee, or an "At Home." She had been attending this or +that meeting. She was never in bed before the summer dawn, yet she would +be at the breakfast-table as fresh as a milkmaid, smiling at Mary and +telling her this and that bit of news or event of the time since they +had met. + +Mrs. Morres, who had to accompany her to many places, slept every hour +of the day she could. She confessed to Mary in her dry way, that did not +ask for pity, that she found her Ladyship's energy superhuman. Sometimes +there was an interesting debate in the House of Commons, and Lady Agatha +must drop in after dinner to sit for an hour behind the gilded grille. +Afterwards she would go on to a political reception. Later to a ball, +where she would dance as though there had been nothing in all the long +day to tire her. + +Once or twice she had a quiet dinner-party, to which Mary came down in +her frock of filmy black, which made a delightful setting for her fair +paleness. At these dinners she encountered famous men and women, and +looked at them from afar off with wistful interest. In the drawing-room +afterwards she saw Lady Agatha the centre of a brilliant group. Someone +said of her that she was likely to be the spoilt child of politics, +since she could be audacious with even the greatest, and move them to +speak when no one else could. The great men shook their heads at her and +smiled. They warned her that she went too fast for them, that +impulsiveness, charming as it was in a woman, was not to be permitted in +politics. "If you would but learn diplomacy, my dear lady!" Sir Michael +Auberon sighed. But diplomacy seemed likely to be the last thing Lady +Agatha Chenevix would learn. + +Mary used to sit under Mrs. Morres's wing, and listen, through her witty +and wise talk, to the utterances of the great. She felt very shy of +these companies of distinguished men and women. Lady Agatha made one or +two attempts to draw her closer. Then, perceiving that she was happier +in her corner, she let her be. + +In her corner Mary listened. She listened with all her ears. Her cheeks +would flush and her eyes shine as she listened. There was a younger +school of politicians which was well represented at Lady Agatha's +parties. Their theories had the generosity of youth. Sir Michael Auberon +would listen to them, nodding his head, his fine, beautiful old face lit +up with as great a generosity as warmed theirs. He was very fond of his +"boys." If he must show them what was impracticable in their views he +did it gently. He rallied them with tenderness. He had none of the +mockery which is so searing and blighting a thing to hot youth. + +One night Mary, looking down the dinner-table, saw a face she +remembered. The owner of the face--a tall, loosely-built, plain-looking +young man--glanced her way at the moment, and stared--stared and looked +away again with a baffled air. Mary knew him at once for the boy she had +met seven or eight years before at the Court. He had aged considerably. +Men like him have a way of falling into their manhood all at once. His +hair was even a little thin on top--with that and his lean, hatchet face +he might have been thirty-five. + +Afterwards in the drawing-room he was one of those who stood nearest to +Sir Michael. Some of the others laughed at him, calling him Don Quixote, +and she heard Sir Michael say that the young man's theories were those +of the Gironde. "The Revolution devours her own children," he said, with +his fine old ironic smile. "And a good many of us have to eat our own +professions before we're forty. The great thing would be if we could +keep our youthful generosity with the wisdom of our prime." + +Looking towards Mary, he caught the flame of enthusiasm in her eyes, and +again he smiled. But this time it was a smile without irony, rather an +understanding and, one might have said, a grateful smile. All the world +knew that Sir Michael's private sorrows were heavy ones, and that he +leant the more on the alleviations and consolations his public life +brought him. + +Afterwards he asked to be introduced to Mary and talked with her for a +little while, making her the envy of the room. + +"She has a clear mind as well as a sound heart," he said. "She is on +fire with the passion for humanity. Take her about with you"--this to +Lady Agatha. "Let her see how the people live--what serfs we have under +our free banner. There is fine material in her. She should do good +work." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Morres sat by Mary, doing crochet, with a quiet smile. +Her tongue dripped cold water on all the enthusiasms. + +"Believe me, my dear, they will do nothing," she said placidly in Mary's +ear. That placidity of hers gave her the air of being as relentless as a +Fate. "Parties are Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Let Sir Michael get into +office and he'll do nothing. Those fine young gentlemen over there will +be the office-holders of twenty years to come, the fat sinecurists and +pluralists. The people were better off when, like the lower animals, +they had no souls. They were protected by their betters. Now they are at +war with them and they are more soulless than before. Dear me, how much +fine talk I have heard that never came to anything!" + +She would go on till the company had departed, and Lady Agatha would +come to her side, laughing, and ask her what horrible feudal theories +she had been propounding. The two differed on every point but one, and +that was in the mere matter of loving each other. Lady Agatha delighted +in her cousin's conservatism; and always said she would not have it +otherwise if she could. It was a _sauce piquante_ to the dish of their +daily lives. + +"You shan't lead Mary astray," she would say with pretended indignation. +"If she knew the things Sir Michael has been saying about her!" + +"My dear Agatha, don't _you_ go leading her astray. Politics are no +_metier_ for a woman, or they should be subservient to something else. +Go marry, Agatha, and bring children into the world, and when you have +reared them you can set up a political salon and theorise about the +regeneration of humanity. Let Miss Gray do likewise. You play with these +things when you are young--later on you will find them dry bones." + +"Dear me!" Lady Agatha said, with admiration. "What a pity she isn't +with us, Mary! What a pity she is only a destructive critic! Don't +listen to her, child!" + +That first evening of their meeting Sir Robin Drummond had come to +Mary's side and turned the page of her music while she sang. She had a +fresh and sweet voice, although of no great range or compass, and she +could sing, without music, song after song of the old English masters, +of Arne and Purcell and Bishop, and their delightful school. + +"She brings strawberries and cream to town," said someone who was not +particularly imaginative. + +Mary was conscious of the young man's scrutiny as he turned her pages, +and it embarrassed her, but she made no sign. + +Afterwards she met Sir Robin many times. He was at this time the adopted +candidate for an East-End constituency, and was becoming well known as +an advanced politician. He went further than his party, indeed, and +somewhat offended even his particular _clientele_ by the breadth of his +views. He and Lady Agatha were at this time engaged in the work of +organising labour, especially amongst the girls and women of the +worst-paid and most dangerous trades. It brought them often together +amid forlorn habitations and hopeless humanity. One of the difficulties +was the question of whether the alien women should be brought in. "They +will join the Union and they will go on underselling all the same," said +someone. But Sir Robin was of those who held that the alien should have +equal rights with her English sister, and that it was possible to teach +her to stand on her feet like one of the free-born. He was not chary of +his denunciations of certain methods among the Trade Unions and the +Trade Unionists, and therefore a crowd sometimes howled him down. But +there was always a minority at least to stand by him, and the minority +included the industrious and sober, the honest and thinking, among those +he desired to help. + +By-and-by he fell into a quiet friendliness with Mary Gray. He used to +take charge of the ladies when they went into the East End. Lady Agatha +used to say that he was a drag on the wheel, because he would not let +her do imprudent things, because he would veto it when a question of +their going into dangerous streets or houses or rooms, because he +insisted on their leaving by a side door a meeting which was becoming +turbulent, because he was always forbidding some extravagance or other +of her Ladyship's. + +"There is one thing about that young man," said Mrs. Morres, who was +chary of praise of her Ladyship's party: "he has excellent common-sense, +and I thank Heaven for it." + +"Ah, yes; he has excellent common-sense," Lady Agatha echoed, with a +ruefulness which made Mary laugh suddenly. + +"You ought to marry him, my dear," Mrs. Morres went on, looping another +stitch of the endless crochet. + +"Marry Bob Drummond!" Lady Agatha repeated. "Marry Bob Drummond! Why, it +is the last thing in the world I should dream of doing." + +One evening, just at the end of the season, someone brought the latest +lion to a small reception at Lady Agatha Chenevix's. He was a very +modest and retiring lion, a quiet, very bronzed young man, who wore his +arm in a sling. He had had his shoulder torn in an encounter with an +African leopard. He had fought almost hand to hand with the beast over +the body of a Kaffir servant, and had rescued the man at the cost of his +own life, it seemed at first, later on of his right arm. It was doubtful +whether the strength and vitality of it would ever be restored. + +He was not merely a brave man, however, this Mr. Jardine. He had gone to +the Gold Coast, and from there into Central Africa, inspired, in the +first place, by the desire of knowledge and love of adventure. But, amid +the thrilling adventures and hairbreadth escapes, there had grown up in +his heart the liveliest interest in and sympathy with the people he +found himself amongst. He discovered that they had an ancient +civilisation of their own. To be sure, what remained of it hung in +shreds and patches on some of them; but there were others, civilised +after a fashion, which was not the Western one. He discovered +traditions, folk-lore, ancient poetry, laws, a wealth of customs. +Understanding the people, he came to love them. They interested him +profoundly. He was going back to them as soon as he could. + +He stayed after the other guests, and was yet talking eagerly to his +hostess when the dressing-bell rang. + +"We dine alone," Lady Agatha said to the old friend who had brought Mr. +Jardine. "And I go nowhere afterwards: I am fagged out. How glad I am +that next week sees us at Hazels! If you and Mr. Jardine could dine, +Colonel Brind?" + +The old friend answered her wistful look. + +"Our lodgings are not far off; we have only to jump into a hansom; we +should be back before the dinner-bell rings. Only--this fellow has a +host of engagements." + +"Ah!" + +Lady Agatha had hardly sighed when Jardine woke up as if from a dream. + +"Have I engagements?" he asked. "I do not remember any. Anyhow, I am a +convalescent, and the privileges of convalescence are mine. I vote for +that hansom, Brind." + +After dinner they sat around the fire and talked. Although it was June, +it had been a sunless day of arid east wind, and Lady Agatha, who always +snatched at the least excuse for a fire because it was so beautiful, had +ordered one to be lit. The three long windows were open beyond the red +leather screen that made a cosy corner of the fireplace, and the scent +of flowers came in from the balcony. + +Paul Jardine talked as much as they desired him to talk. He started on +his hobby about those West African peoples, and rode it with spirit and +energy. His friend laughed at him. + +"Why, Jardine," he said, "I can never again call you the lion that will +not roar." + +"Am I horribly loquacious?" The hero smiled, but was not more silent. He +had great things to tell, and he told them well and modestly. Lady +Agatha sat with her cheek shaded by a peacock-feather fan. There was a +deep glow in her eyes. Glancing across at her from the opposite corner, +Mary thought it must be the reflection of the firelight. + +She came to Mary's room after the guests had departed, when Mary was +preparing for bed, and sat down in the chair by the open window. + +"What do you think of him, Mary?" she asked. + +"Of whom?" Mary said sleepily. They had met a good many people during +the day, so the question was a pardonable one. + +"Of whom! Why, of Mr. Jardine! Who else could it be?" + +She lifted her arms about her head, and the loose white sleeves of her +gown fell away from their roundness and softness. + +"What a man!" she said, with a long sigh. "What a man! That is life, if +you like. How tame the others seem beside him!" + +"He roared very gently," said Mary, "but it was very exciting." + +"Yes, wasn't it? That sail in the canoe down the river, with the jungle +on each side of them alive with wild beasts and venomous reptiles, to +say nothing of cannibals, and deadly sicknesses worse than any of those. +He said so little about the danger. One got an impression of the +extraordinary languorous beauty of the tropical vegetation; one smelt +it, that African night, with its enormous moon beyond the mists. There +was death on every side of him, in every breath he drew. He found what +he went for, the antidote to the bite of the death's-head spider. +Henceforth life in those latitudes will be robbed of one of its terrors. +What a man!" + +"It is a pity that we could not have heard him at the Royal Society," +Mary said, with a little yawn--they had been keeping late hours. "If it +had been a day or two earlier!" + +"But I am going," said Lady Agatha. "Why, Mary, it is only to alter our +arrangements by a day. Hazels--the dear place--will keep for a day +longer." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +HER LADYSHIP + + +At Hazels Mary found her duties more onerous than they had been in town. +It was delightful to see Lady Agatha among her own people. She had made +life easier for them. Mary marvelled at the prettiness of the red-brick +farmhouses, with roses and honeysuckle to their eaves. She could never +get over the feeling that it was only a picture. They would walk or +drive to them, and the farmer's wife would come out and beg her Ladyship +to come in for a glass of cowslip wine; and she and Mary would go in to +a rather dark parlour--to be sure, the windows were smothered in +jessamine and roses and honeysuckle--and sit down in chairs covered in +flowery chintz, and sip the fragrant wine and eat the home-made cake, +while the topics of interest between landlord and tenant were discussed. +Then the farmer would come in himself, hat in hand, and his eyes would +light up at the sight of the visitor, and there would be more pleasant +homely talk of cattle and crops, and the harvest and the plans for the +autumn sowing, and the state of fairs and markets. + +There was Nuthatch Village, which seemed to have stepped out of +Morland's pictures. It was all so pretty and peaceful, with its red +gabled cottages sending up their blue spirals of smoke into the +overhanging boughs of great trees. Mary cried out in delight at the +quaint dormers, with their diamond panes, at the wooden fronts, at the +gardens chockfull of the gayest and most old-fashioned flowers. + +"As for prettiness," said Lady Agatha, "it isn't a patch on Highercombe, +a mile away, and, what is more, I've done more than anyone else to spoil +its prettiness. I've filled in the pond and driven the swan and the +water-hen to other haunts. I've given them a new water-supply and done +away with the most picturesque pump, which was sunk in 1770 by Dame +Elizabeth Chenevix. I've put new grates and new floors into the houses, +and I've seen to it that all windows open and shut. The pity of it is +that I can't compel them to make use of their privilege of opening. +Also, I've introduced cowls on the chimneys. My friend, Lionel Armytage, +the painter, lifted his hands in horror at my doings. I'd have liked to +get at the chimneys, but I'd have had to pull down every cottage in the +place to rectify them. Oh, I've spoilt Nuthatch, there's not a doubt of +it. You must see Highercombe." + +"The children seem healthy," Mary said thoughtfully, "and the old people +walk straighter than one sees them often." + +"Ah, yes, that is it." Lady Agatha's face flushed and lit up. "I've made +it healthy for them. Highercombe is a painted lie--a pest-house, a +charnel-house, full of unwholesome miasmas from its pretty green, its +pond covered with water-lilies. Death lurks in that pond. There is bad +drainage and bad water; the damp oozes through the old brick floors of +the houses. The whole place is as deadly in its way as those West +African jungles of which Mr. Jardine told us." + +They were to see Mr. Jardine later. At present he was on a round of +visiting at the houses of the great. The names of the people who had +elected to do honour to Paul Jardine would have been a list of pretty +well the most illustrious persons in the kingdom. When Lady Agatha had +suggested to him that he might give a week to Hazels before the summer +was done, he had been eager about it, had even suggested dropping some +of his other engagements. But that she would not hear of. She seemed to +take an odd pride and pleasure in the way he had conquered the world +best worth conquering. + +"What!" she had said. "Drop Sir Richard Greville and Lord Overbury! Not +for worlds! You may find it dull. Sir Richard lives the life of a +hermit, and you won't get anything fit to eat at Lord Overbury's. He +never knows what he's eating, and his cook has long given up trying to +do credit to herself. I believe that only for his dining-out he'd be +starved. Even as it is, he's been known to take mustard with his soup +and red-currant jelly with his cheese. Still--he's Lord Overbury!" + +They led a very quiet life at Hazels, seeing hardly anyone. Lady Agatha +had declared that she was going to make up for her rackety life in town, +as well as to prepare for the winter. She had looked as fresh as a rose +through all the racketing, and when she talked about the need for rest +she had smiled. + +As a matter of fact, her energy was too overflowing to permit of her +resting as other folk rested. A change of occupation was about as much +as one could hope for. And now she was restless as she had not been +before, for, energetic as she had always been, she had never driven +others. Indeed, many people had found absolute restfulness in her +Ladyship's big, wholesome presence. + +"The life in town has only stimulated me, Mary," she confessed; "just +stimulated me and excited my brain. I must work it off somehow. Let us +begin at the novel to-morrow." + +They began at the novel. Lady Agatha dictated it, and Mary took it down +in short-hand. They worked out of doors. Mary had her seat under the +boughs of a splendid chestnut tree on a little green lawn. The lawn was +at the side of the house, not over-looked, enclosed on three sides by a +splendid yew hedge. The dogs would lie at Mary's feet. There were Roy +the St. Bernard, and Brian the bull-dog, a toy Pomeranian, and a little +Chow. The dogs always stayed at Hazels. "If I took them up to town," +Lady Agatha said, "they would see more of me, to be sure, but then they +would always be losing me, for, of course, I couldn't take them out in +town. And they always know I'll come back--they're so wise. The parting +is dreadful, but they know I'll come back." + +Mary sometimes wondered how her Ladyship had found time to think out her +novel. For it seemed all ready and prepared in her mind. She would sweep +up and down the grass while she dictated. Mary used to say that it meant +a ten-mile walk of a morning. The train of her white morning-dress +lopped the daisies in their places; the incessant passage of her feet +made a track in the grass. Sometimes she would pass out of her +secretary's hearing and have to be recalled by Mary's laughing voice of +remonstrance. + +"Am I afflicting you, Mary?" she asked on one of these occasions. "Am I +overwhelming you? It's a horrible flood, isn't it?" + +"You are very fluent," Mary answered, looking down at the queer little +dots and spirals on her paper. "I daresay we'll have to prune it before +it's printed. But it is a good fluency, a rich fluency. To me it is +irresistible--like a spring freshet, like the sap rushing madly through +all the veins of spring." + +"Ah, you feel it?--you feel it like that, Mary? I feel it so myself; I +riot in it." + +"It will have no sense of effort--it is vital. I hope we shall be able +to keep it up." + +"Why not, O Cassandra?" + +She stood with one hand on the back of Mary's chair, and looked up into +the tree. + +"The book should have been written in spring," she went on. "I feel the +spring in my blood. Why should I, Mary, now when it is full summer, and +the trees are dark?" + +"I don't know, unless that you were so busy in spring that you had not +time to enjoy it. Come, let us get on; perhaps presently you will flag. +We must get the book done before anyone comes to interrupt us." + +"Never was there such a willing co-worker. You mustn't overdo it, Mary. +How many words did I dictate to you yesterday?" + +"Six thousand." + +"And you gave them to me typewritten this morning." + +"I wanted to see how they looked in type. It is all right, Agatha. Even +you cannot go on for long, dictating six thousand words a day. We must +take the tide at the flow." + +"Afterwards I shall do a play--after I have given you a rest." + +"More kingdoms to conquer," Mary laughed. "There is only one person like +you--the Kaiser." + +"I have an immense admiration for him." + +Mrs. Morres meanwhile sat and smiled to herself. She had given up the +crochet for point-lace, which, as it had more intricate stitches, +necessitated the more care. Sometimes she knitted and read with a book +in her lap. But when she was not reading, she smiled quietly to herself. +It was a curious smile, half-satisfied as one whose prognostications +have come true, half-dissatisfied as though there was no great cause for +congratulation. + +Once Mary was curious enough to ask her why she smiled. Lady Agatha at +the piano was playing Wagner like a professional musician. Mrs. Morres's +smile grew more inscrutable. + +"It amuses me," she said, talking loudly, so that her words might reach +Mary through the storm of the music, "to find that Agatha is just a +woman, after all. It amuses me--and yet--it had been happier for you and +me if she had contented herself with the unrealities of life a little +longer." + +Mary did not understand at the moment. She began to understand a little +later when Mr. Jardine came. The novel, after all, had not been +finished. For the last week or so before the visitor arrived her +Ladyship had apparently lost interest in it. + +"My brain has dried up, Mary," she said. "I should only spoil it if I +went on. Put it away in a drawer, and when I feel like it we can go on +again. You want a rest. I've over-tired you." + +"I felt I couldn't rest till it was done," Mary said, with a little +sigh. "I wanted to know what became of them all. And it is such an +interesting point. Tell me, does Clotilde marry Mark, after all?" + +"How should I know? I have nothing to do with what she does. Clotilde +knows her own mind. I do not. Wait till we get back to it." + +"Ah! you should finish it--you should finish it. You'll never get that +young green world in it again. It was an inspiration. We should have +held on to it like Jacob to the angel's robe." + +But for the time Lady Agatha's literary energy was exhausted. + +"I daresay there's a deal of fustian in it. There's sure to be," she +said. "I don't think anything could be really good that was produced +with so little pain. I daresay I'll be for tearing it up, so you'd +better lock it away. Do you feel equal to walking ten miles? If not, get +your bicycle and I'll walk beside you. I've been cramped up too long." + +This time it was a mood of physical restlessness. She walked and rode +and went out golfing, and played tennis, and rowed on the river, and did +a thousand things, while Mrs. Morres made her delicate wheels and +trefoils, and smiled a more Sibylline smile than ever. + +At last he came. When the sound of his footstep and of his voice reached +them where they stood in the drawing-room awaiting him, her Ladyship +turned to Mary, and her face was full of an immense relief. + +"I didn't really believe he'd come," she said. "I've been feeling quite +sure that something would occur to prevent his coming." + +"The weeks have been endless," Paul Jardine said, coming in and taking +her Ladyship's two hands. "How could you put me off till September? I've +had a heavy time. I don't like being made much of by other folk, so I am +going out again after Christmas." + +Then, to be sure, Mary knew. The pair leaped to each other as though +they had been two halves of one whole separated long ago, and now drawn +together in a magnetic rush. Mary had always known that when Lady Agatha +attracted she attracted irresistibly; there was no half-way, no +haltings, no looking back possible. + +"We are out of it, Mary, we two," Mrs. Morres said, and the smile had +become a trifle weak and wavering. "What do you suppose is going to +become of us? Hazels is a pleasant place, and there has always been +something of assurance and comfort about Agatha. I had a hard life, my +dear, before I came here. Yet what would she do with us? She can't very +well take us out to Africa. I, at least, should not know what to do in +those places." + +It was a wooing that was not long a-doing. Her Ladyship and Mr. Jardine +came in one evening in time for afternoon tea. The days were closing in +by this time, and a fire was welcome. There had been rain, and the fire +sparkled on her Ladyship's black curls and her eyelashes as she stood by +the fire, taking off the long cloak in which she wrapped herself when +she went out walking in bad weather. Her eyes were at once bright and +shy. + +"Congratulate me," she said. "He has consented to take me with him. He +held out for a long time, but I was determined to go. As though I should +take the chances!" + +"It is I who am to be congratulated," said Paul Jardine, and the +happiness in his voice thrilled his listeners. "Of course, I wouldn't +have listened to her if she wasn't so splendidly strong. It will be an +odd place for a honeymoon. Do you think I ought not to have consented to +take her, Mrs. Morres?" + +"For how long?" + +Mrs. Morres's voice shook. All the Sibylline quality was gone from it +now. + +"For a year. I must fulfil my engagements. Afterwards I must do my best +for them over here. I never thought that I could do as I would as a +married man. Do you think I ought not to have consented?" + +"She would have gone without your consent." + +Lady Agatha came over and put a hand on her shoulder, a kind, caressing +hand. + +"You are quite right," she said. "Oh, he has wriggled, but it had to be. +It had to be, from the first minute we met." + +"I knew it." + +"You did, you wise woman. And you will keep house for me when I am gone? +You will take care of the dogs for me? You will oscillate between Hazels +and town? You will keep the places ready against our return? You are +never to leave us." + +Mrs. Morres's eyes overflowed. + +"My dear," she said, "it would have broken my heart to have left you. +And Mary--what is to become of Mary?" + +"I have a plan for Mary, unless she will stay here with you." + +"I must earn my bread," said Mary. + +"For all the bread you eat, I eat four times as much as you. Still, you +have talents to be used for the many, as Sir Michael Auberon said. I +have no right to keep you from them. You will talk to Robin Drummond +about that. He is starting a bureau for purposes of organisation amongst +the women. He has had his eye on you. I told him he could not have you. +Now, it will fill a gap, perhaps. I shall need you again." + +"The funny thing," said Mrs. Morres, and the amusement had come back in +her voice--"is that Colonel St. Leger won't like your marriage at all. +He has always wanted you to be married. But now--this African +marriage--he will talk about it as though you were marrying a man of +colour, Agatha, my dear. How his eyebrows will go out!" + +"To think," said Mary, with a little sigh, "that the novel is +unfinished, after all." + +"A novel is so much more interesting," said Lady Agatha, "when you live +it, Mary. Besides, it has troubled me that if I published the novel I +must come into competition with the legitimate workers. They should form +a Trades' Union against us, women of leisure and money, to keep us from +poaching on their preserves. They really should. My dears, I have a +presentiment that the novel never will be finished." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE HEART OF A FATHER + + +Oddly enough, seeing the General's feeling towards his sister-in-law, +seeing, too, that he and Nelly had hardly ever had a thought or taste +that was not in common, a certain affection grew up on Nelly's part for +Lady Drummond. An acute observer would have said that the affection had +something conscience-stricken about it. There were times when Nelly's +eyes asked pardon of the Dowager for some offence committed against her, +and this usually happened when the Dowager was making much of her, as of +a daughter-in-law who would be dearly welcome when the time came. +Something of the love Lady Drummond had borne for her husband had passed +on to his niece. She was immensely proud, in her secret heart, of the +deeds of the Drummonds. Despite her hectoring ways, she looked up to and +admired the General, although he had been too simple to discern the fact +and profit by it. Robin's divergence from his father's ways was, +secretly, an acute disappointment to her. When she caressed Nelly with a +warmth which none of her friends would have credited her with +possessing, there was compunction with the tenderness. The child ought +to have had the delight of marrying a soldier, a hero whom she could +adore, as she herself had adored her Gerald. When she pressed the golden +head to her angular bosom she was asking the girl's pardon for her son's +shortcomings. + +"I shall have heroic grandchildren," she said to herself. "Although +Robin is a throwback to the Quaker, the grandsons of Gerald and Denis +Drummond must be fighting men." + +She pondered long over those grandchildren, and derived a grim pleasure +from the thought of them. She even spoke of them to the General, when +Nelly was out of hearing. + +"It was a disappointment to both of us that Robin is a man of peace," +she said, acknowledging the fact for the first time. "Not but that he is +a good boy--a very good boy. The fighting strain will recur in the next +generation. We shall have soldiers among our grandchildren." + +"Grandchildren!" growled the General, turning very crimson in the face. +"I call it indelicate to discuss such subjects. As for Nelly's marrying, +why, she's only a child. I should feel very little obliged to the man +who would want to take her from me at her age." + +"Nelly is nineteen," the Dowager reminded him, "and the marriage can't +be delayed much longer. It ought to be a source of satisfaction to us +that the young people are so pleased with the arrangement. I know that +Robin has never thought of anyone but his cousin, and I am sure it is +just the same with the dear child." + +The General grew red again--not this time with anger, but rather as +though the Dowager's words had stirred some sense of guilt in his +breast. He muttered something grumpily, and, discovering that his +favourite pipe must have been left in his own den, he escaped from Lady +Drummond for a while. + +As a matter of fact, his mind had been plotting mischief. He did not +care so much that it was against the Dowager, if it had not been that +the memory of his dead brother came in to complicate things. And, after +all, his plotting seemed to have come to naught. He had gone so far as +to invite young Langrishe to dinner for a specific occasion, without +result. The young man had written to say that he had effected his +exchange into the --th Madras Light Infantry, and would be so very much +occupied up to the time of his departure that he feared dining out was +out of the question. + +The General had known he was going away. He had known it before he +received that letter, before he had seen it in the Gazette. He had known +from the day the regiment had gone by without Captain Langrishe in his +wonted place. He had felt with his arm about his girl's shoulders the +sudden shock that had passed through her. So she had not known either. +He had not prepared her. There was not an understanding between them. He +saluted as light-heartedly as ever to all appearance, but he did not +look at Nelly. Nor did he make any remark on the change in the regiment. + +After that day the passing of his "boys" ceased to be the old joy to +him. Something was gone out of the ceremonial. It took all his _esprit +de corps_ to pretend to himself as well as to others that he felt no +difference. He felt the limpness and dejection in Nelly. He saw that her +roses had faded, that she walked without the old joyous spring. He heard +her no longer talking to the dogs, trilling to the canary. It was +January now, and raw, cold weather. It seemed as though the sunshine had +vanished from the house for good. The General had been wont to say that +the cheerfulness of his house was within it, not without it. He had come +home from London fog and rain with a happy sense of its bright fires and +spaciousness, its carpets and furniture, not so new that a muddy foot or +a stray shower of tobacco-ash was a thing to be feared--old friends +every one of them. The love and loyalty within his doors were something +that came out to welcome the General's home-coming like a sudden +firelight streaming out into the black night. + +Now his little girl was unhappy, and the shadow of her unhappiness was +over his nights and days. It was when he felt this that he had written +to Captain Langrishe, saying nothing to her about it, stealing out, in +fact, at night to post the letter secretly, he whose correspondence, +such as it was--he was no great penman--had always lain in the +letter-basket on the hall table for the servants to scrutinise the +addresses if they would before it was posted. + +When the answer came he congratulated himself on his forethought. +Luckily, that morning he was first at the breakfast-table. Of late +Nelly, who had been wont to rise as cheerfully as a waking bird, was +tardy occasionally. The General suspected broken sleep, and had bidden +the servants tenderly not to call her, although the breakfast-table was +not the same thing with no bright face and golden head opposite to him. + +When he had read the letter he thrust it into an inner pocket. The +servant, who was attending, went away at the moment, and the General got +up quickly, and with a stealthy glance at the door, buried the letter in +the heart of the fire, raked the coals over it, and was in his place +before the servant returned. + +"Confound the fellow!" he said under his breath. + +Plainly, there was nothing more to be done. The child had to go through +it. People had to endure such things. Yet he was miserable, watching +furtively her dimmed roses and the circles about her eyes. His little +Nell, who had lived in the sunshine all her days! + +It was, perhaps, not to be wondered at that, in the perturbation of his +mind, the pendulum should have swung towards Robin. "Confound the +fellow!"--(meaning Captain Langrishe)--"What did he mean by making Nelly +unhappy?" A still, small voice whispered to the General that the young +man was acting on some foolish, overstrained, honourable scruple just as +he would have done himself in his youth--nay, to-day, for the matter of +that. But he would not listen to the voice. He fretted and fumed, puffed +himself up into a great rage as men of his temperament will. Confound +the fellow! He had gone half-way to meet him, for Nelly's sake, and the +fellow had refused to budge. Confound him and be hanged to him! The +General would have used much worse language if the simple piety which +hid behind his blusterousness had not come in to restrain him. + +He blamed himself--to be sure, he blamed himself. What a selfish old +curmudgeon he had been, always thinking of himself and his own likes and +dislikes! Where could his Nelly find greater security for happiness than +in the keeping of Gerald's son? Everybody thought well of Robin. There +had never been anything against him. Why, not a week ago, one of the +finest soldiers in the army, a field-marshal, a household word in the +homes of England, had button-holed the General to congratulate him on a +speech of Robin's. + +"That young man will be a credit to you, Drummond," he had said. "Mark +my words, that young man will be a credit to you." + +And the General had been oddly impressed by the opinion, coming from his +old comrade in arms, and one of the finest soldiers that ever stepped. +And, to be sure, he had been trying to set Nelly against Robin all the +days of her life. + +When he had come to this point in his meditations he groaned aloud. A +thought had come to him of how little Nelly would be really his, married +to Robin Drummond. He would have no need for the house then. He would +have to dismiss the servants, the old servants of whom he was fond, who +adored him, and go into lodgings. He might keep Pat, perhaps. Even the +dogs would go with Nelly. He would never have his girl any more. The +Dowager would be always there. The Dowager would know better than anyone +how to set up an invisible barrier between Nelly and her father. Why, +since she had been their neighbour things had not been the same. She had +carried Nelly hither and thither, to concerts and At Homes and +picture-galleries and what-not. She talked of presenting her at Court, +with an air of significance which the General loathed. The question in +her eye and smile--the General called it a smirk--the very transparent +question was as to whether it was not better to wait and present Nelly +on her marriage. + +When the Dowager was sly she made the General furious. Was his little +girl to be married out of hand to Robin Drummond without being given the +chance to see the world and other men? He asked the question hotly, +pacing up and down the faded Persian rug in his den. Then a chill came +on his heat. He had not been able to keep Nelly from choosing, and she +had chosen unwisely. He had had a dream of himself and young Langrishe +and Nelly and the babies in the big happy house. They would belong to +him--no one would push him away from his girl. They would be together +till they closed his eyes. The thought of it now was like a green oasis +in the desert; but it was a mirage, only a mirage! + +And Nelly must not suffer. Langrishe had rejected her--rejected that +sweet thing, confound him! And there was her cousin Robin, patient and +faithful, waiting to make her happy. He forgot that once upon a time he +had been furious with Robin for his patience. Robin was a kind fellow, a +good fellow. He seemed to be always at the beck and call of his mother +and Nelly, always ready to escort them. Why, only yesterday Nelly had +said that there was no one so comfortable as Robin to go about with, and +then, in a fit of compunction, had flown to her father and hugged him +hard. + +"Never mind, Nell, never mind," the General had said. "I never took you +about much, did I? We were great home-keepers, you and I. Never seemed +to want to gad about, did we? I ought to have taken you about more. It +was a dull life for a young girl--a dull life. I ought to be obliged to +your aunt for showing me the error of my ways, for making life +pleasanter for you." + +He gulped over the end of the speech. + +"It was a lovely life," cried Nelly wildly, and then burst into tears. + +The General was terribly distressed. He had had no experience of Nelly +in tears. She had never wept or fainted or done any of the interesting +things young ladies were supposed to do in his time. She had been always +the light of the house, always happy and healthy and gay. + +While he looked at the bell uncertainly, being half of a mind to summon +assistance, Nelly relieved him from his doubt by running away out of the +room, and when they met again he did not remind her of the scene. That +discretion of his went to her heart. It was so strange and pitiful for +him to be discreet, so unlike him. + +After that he began to praise Robin Drummond, not too suddenly nor too +effusively at first, but by degrees, so as not to awaken Nelly's +suspicions. He amazed Robin Drummond by his cordiality in those days, +and the young fellow commented on it whimsically to Nelly herself. + +"He has been telling me all my life that I am a poor creature," he said, +"and here he is, to all intents and purposes, eating his own words. Just +fancy his wading through that speech of mine on the estimates and +pretending to be interested in it, even praising it, Nell. Seeing that +the speech was all against our maintaining our big standing army, on a +motion to cut down the expenditure, it is bewildering. Is it a mild +joke, Nell dear?" + +"You may call it a joke if you like," she said, her eyes filling with +tears. "I call it heart-breaking, heart-breaking. If he would only abuse +you as he used to do!" + +"Dear Nell, what's up?" asked Robin, in great penitence. "I had no idea +I was saying anything to hurt you. The dear old man! Why, I never +resented his abuse. I'd rather he'd abuse me, like a dog, as they +say--though I don't see why anyone should want to abuse a dog--if it +made you happier." + +Certainly, all Nelly's world was very good to her in those days. As for +Robin Drummond, he thought of women with a chivalrous tenderness +somewhat strange considering that the Dowager was his mother. To him +they were something delicate, mysterious, inexplicable. If he had had a +sister he would have adored her. Not having one, he lavished on Nelly +the feeling he would have given a sister; and hitherto he had been +content with the ardour of his feelings. What could a man wish for +sweeter and prettier beside his hearth than little Nelly? He had fallen +in love with that plan of his mother's for him and Nell with lazy +contentment. He liked Nelly's society, and it did not occur to him that +he would be just as well pleased with her daily companionship if he +could have it without the tie between them becoming more than cousinly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +LOVERS' PARTING + + +It might have been better for Nelly if her father had told her of those +tentative advances to Captain Langrishe, for then her pride might have +come to her aid. As it was, she had nothing to go upon but those looks +of his, and his manner to her when they had met at the houses of +friends. For they had met, and that was something the General did not +know. More, Nelly had engineered, with the cleverness of a girl in love, +an acquaintance with Captain Langrishe's sister, a Mrs. Rooke, who lived +in one of the Bayswater squares. Mrs. Rooke was a vivacious little dark +woman, with a cheek like a peach's rosy side. She was perfectly happy in +her own married life, and she had the happily-married woman's desire to +bring lovers together. She had taken a prodigious fancy to Nelly. While +Captain Langrishe yet remained in England that house in the Bayswater +square had an overwhelming attraction for Nelly. + +She had gone there first under the Dowager's wing. Cyprian Rooke, K.C., +belonged to an unexceptionable family, and even the proud Dowager could +find no fault with Nelly's friendship for his wife. + +In those days poor Nelly used to feel a perfect monster of deceit. For, +first of all, she was deceiving her dear old father. The name of Rooke +signified nothing one way or the other to him. Then there was the +Dowager, who had proved the most patient and considerate of chaperons, +sitting wide-eyed and cheerful till her charge had danced through the +programme if it so pleased her; going hither and thither to crowded At +Homes, attending first nights at the play--doing, in fact, everything to +give Nelly a good time. To be sure, the Dowager attached no importance +to the name of Langrishe any more than the General did to that of Rooke. + +Mrs. Rooke gave a good many dances after Christmas, and Nelly was at +them all. Sometimes Robin was there, sometimes that was not possible. +And Robin was out of his element at such gatherings, since he did not +dance and could find no conversation to his mind while he leant against +the wall of the ball-room or hung about the doors. Life was so full of +work for him that it seemed unreasonable to keep him where there was +nothing he could do. + +Captain Langrishe turned up at the dances as unfailingly as Nelly +herself. He came in spite of many resolutions to the contrary, as the +moth comes to singe its wings in the flame of the candle. He did not +make Nelly conspicuous for the Dowager or anyone else to see. Sometimes +he asked her for several dances. Again, he would be merely polite in +asking her for one; and would yield her up coldly to her next partner +and never come to her side again for the rest of the evening. Unlike Sir +Robin, he danced conspicuously well. Nelly had thrilled to a speech of +Robin's: "One cannot despise the art of dancing for a man when a fellow +like that thinks it worth his while to excel in it." + +One night, when the guests had departed, Mrs. Rooke had something to +tell her husband. + +"That little wretch, Nelly Drummond!" she said. "I thought she was as +innocent and candid as a child. Would you believe it that all the time +she has been engaged to that gawky cousin of hers?" + +"My dear Belinda, all what time?" + +"Well, for a lawyer, Cyprian----" + +"I know I'm obtuse, but the law doesn't favour deductions. All what +time?" + +"Why, all the time poor Godfrey's been falling head over ears in love +with her." + +Mr. Rooke whistled. He was fond of his wife's brother. + +"Are you sure, Bel? I noticed particularly that he was dancing with the +wallflowers to-night. He's a good fellow, so that didn't surprise me. +Now you mention it, I caught sight of the little girl dancing with Jack +Menzies. She didn't look particularly happy." + +"She hasn't been looking particularly happy. I have been imagining that +Godfrey's poverty stood between them. He is so impracticable. And I have +been making opportunities for them to meet. After all, she is Sir Denis +Drummond's only child, and is sure to be sufficiently well off. And +here, after all my trouble, I find she is engaged to her cousin. I +wonder what she can see in that ugly stick to prefer him to Godfrey!" + +"She may not prefer him, my dear. It may be a marriage of convenience. +And Drummond is not a stick. That is your feminine prejudice. He is a +very clever fellow, although he has got the Socialistic bee in his +bonnet. However, he's young, and has time to mend his ways." + +"I don't want to discuss him. How coldblooded you are, Cyprian! I can +only think of my poor Godfrey going off to the ends of the earth, and +his being deceived and hurt by that heartless girl." + +"You will let him know?" + +"I certainly shall. He ought to know. It may be the quickest way to make +him forget her." + +"Since he seems to have made up his mind to go away without speaking to +her, I can't see that any great harm has been done," Mr. Rooke said, +with his masculine common-sense. + +"I shall never forgive her," Mrs. Rooke retorted, with true feminine +inconsequence. + +She took an early opportunity of telling her brother what the Dowager +had told her. The occasion was in her own drawing-room at the +afternoon-tea hour, and, since the room was only lit by firelight and a +tall standard lamp, his face, where he stood by the mantel-shelf, was in +shadow. There had been something portentous in the manner of the +telling. + +For a few seconds he kept silence. Then he spoke very quietly. + +"I hope Miss Drummond may be happy," he said. He did not trouble to put +on a pretence of indifference with Bel, just as he did not wish to talk +about it. He went on to speak of ordinary topics. That evening he stayed +to dinner. He had only a week more in England. Under the electric light +at the dinner-table his haggardness was revealed. + +"For once," said Cyprian Rooke afterwards, "your discovery wasn't a +mare's nest, my dear Bel. Godfrey looks hard hit." + +The week turned round quietly. Nelly had not heard definitely the date +of Captain Langrishe's departure. For six days she kept away from the +Rookes' house. On that last evening he had been icily cold. The poor +girl was in torture. All the week she was calling pride to her aid. The +sixth day it refused to bolster her up any longer. The sixth day she met +at lunch a friend of hers and Belinda Rooke's. She asked a question +about the Rookes with averted eyes. + +"Poor girl," said the friend; "she is in grief over Godfrey Langrishe. +He sails to-morrow." + +The rest of that luncheon-party was a phantasmagoria of faces and voices +to poor Nelly. He was going, and she would never see him again, although +he had shown her by a thousand infallible signs that he loved her. +Despite his occasional coldness, she was sure he loved her. Her pride +was down with a vengeance. She felt nothing at the moment but a desire +to see him before he should go--just to see him, to see the lighting up +of his gloomy eyes, as they had lit up on seeing her suddenly before he +could get his face under control. After that one meeting, the deluge! +But she must see him--she must see him for the last time. + +The kindly hostess insisted on her going home in a cab. When she had +been driven some distance, Nelly pushed up the little trapdoor of the +hansom and gave another address than Sherwood Square. + +Having done it, she felt happier. However it ended, she was making a +last attempt to see him. She could not have endured a passive +acquiescence in her destiny, whatever was to be the end of it. + +The luncheon-party had been prolonged, and the gas-lamps in the streets +were lit. It was the close of the short winter's day. Night came +prematurely between the high Bayswater houses. It was almost dark when +she stood at last on Mrs. Rooke's doorstep, asking herself what she +should do if Mrs. Rooke was away from home. + +Mrs. Rooke was out, as it happened, but the maid-servant, who knew +Nelly, and, like all servants, had been captivated by her pleasant, +friendly ways, invited her in to await the lady's return. Mrs. Rooke was +expected back to tea. With a smile on her lips she held the drawing-room +door open for Nelly to enter. + +Nelly passed through. There was a big French screen by the door. She had +passed beyond it and out into the warm firelit room before she realised +that there was another occupant. Someone stood up from the couch by the +fireplace as she came towards it. Fate had been on her side for once. +The person was Captain Langrishe. + +"My sister will not be very long, Miss Drummond," he began, in a tone he +tried in vain to make indifferent. "I hope you won't mind waiting in my +company." + +Mind waiting, indeed! To Nelly, as to himself, the seconds were precious +ones. Mrs. Rooke was shopping on that particular afternoon. It was a +kind fate that made it so difficult for her to find just the things she +wanted, that sent half-a-dozen acquaintances and friends in her way. + +He took Nelly's hand in his. It was quite cold and clammy, although it +had come out of a satin-lined muff. The hand trembled. + +"I heard you were going to-morrow," she said. "I'm so glad I am in time +to wish you _bon voyage_." + +"Won't you sit down?" + +He set a chair for her in front of the fire. The flames lit up her +golden hair, and revealed her charming face in its becoming setting of +the sables she wore. He sat in his obscure corner, watching her with +moody eyes. He said to himself that he would never see her again, yet he +laboured to make ordinary everyday talk. He asked after the General, and +regretted that the hurry of these latter days had prevented his calling +at Sherwood Square. + +"We miss you at the head of the squadron," said Nelly, innocently. "It +isn't the same thing now that there is a stranger." + +"Ah!" A flame leaped into his eyes. He leant forward a little. "That +reminds me I ought not to go without making a confession." He was taking +a pocket-book from his breastpocket. He opened it, and held it under +Nelly's eyes. There was a piece of blue ribbon there. She recognised it +with a great leap of her heart. It was her own ribbon which she had lost +that spring day as she stood on the balcony looking down at the +soldiers. + +"You recognise it? It was yours. The wind blew it down close to my hand. +I caught it. I have kept it ever since. May I keep it still? It can do +no harm to anybody, my having it--may I keep it?" + +She answered something under her breath, which he construed to be "Yes." +She had been feeling the cruelty of it all, that their last hour +together should be taken up by talking of commonplaces. At the sudden +change in his tone--although it was unhappy, there was passion in it, +and the chill seemed to pass away from her heart--the tears filled her +eyes, overflowed them, ran warmly down her cheeks. + +At the sight of those tears the young man forgot everything, except that +she was lovely and he loved her and she was crying for him. He leaped to +her side and dropped on his knees. He put both his arms about her and +pressed her closely to him. + +"Are you crying because I am going, my darling?" he said. "Good heavens! +don't cry--I'm not worth it. And yet I shall remember, when the world is +between us, that you cried because I was going, you angel of mercy." + +An older woman than Nelly might have had the presence of mind to ask him +why he was going. But she was silent. She felt it over-whelmingly sweet +to be held so, to feel his hand smoothing her hair. The bunch of lilies +of the valley she had been wearing was crushed between his breast and +her breast. The sweetness of them rose up as something exquisite and +forlorn. His hand moved tremblingly over her hair to her cheek. + +"Give me a kiss, Nelly," he said, "and I will go. Just one kiss. I shall +never have another in all my days. Good-bye, my heart's delight." + +For a second their lips clung together. Then his arms relaxed. He put +her down gently into a chair. She lay back with closed eyes. She heard +the door shut behind her. Then she sprang to her feet, realising that he +was gone and it was too late to recall him. + +Why should he go? she asked herself, as, with trembling hands, she +arranged the disorder of her hair. Then the merely conventional came in, +as it will even at such tense moments. She asked herself how she would +look to his sister, if she appeared at this moment; to the maid, who +might be expected at any moment bringing in the lamp. The room was dark +but for the firelight. How would she look, with her tear-stained visage +and the disorder of her appearance? She could not sit and make small +talk. That was a heroism beyond her. And she was afraid to speak to +anyone lest she should break down. She adopted a cowardly course. +Afterwards she must explain it to Mrs. Rooke somehow. She put the +consideration of how out of sight: it could wait till the turmoil of her +thoughts was over. + +She stole from the room, let herself out quietly, and was grateful for +the dark and the cool, frosty air. About five minutes after she had gone +Mrs. Rooke came in laden with small parcels. + +"The Captain and Miss Drummond are in the drawing-room, ma'am," said the +maid. + +"Then you can bring tea." + +Mrs. Rooke opened the drawing-room door leisurely, turning the handle +once or twice before she did so. She was excited at the thought of the +things that might be happening the other side of the door. Supposing +that Nelly had discovered that life with a poor foot-captain was a more +desirable thing than life with a well-endowed baronet, a coming man in +the political world to boot! Supposing--there was no end to the +suppositions that passed through Mrs. Rooke's busy brain in a few +seconds of time. Then--she entered the room and found emptiness. + +"You are sure that neither the Captain nor Miss Drummond left a +message?" she said to the maid who brought the tea. + +"Quite sure, ma'am. I had no idea they were gone." + +"Do you suppose they went away together, Jane?" + +Mrs. Rooke was ready to accept a crumb of possible comfort from her +handmaid. + +"I do remember now, ma'am, that when I was pulling down the blind +upstairs I heard the hall-door shut twice. I never thought of looking in +the drawing-room, ma'am. I made sure that the noise of the blinds had +deceived me into taking next-door for ours." + +"Ah, thank you, Jane, that will do." + +The omens were not at all propitious. Mrs. Rooke was fain to acknowledge +as much to herself dejectedly. Nor did Cyprian think them propitious +when taken into counsel. When she went downstairs, she found that her +brother had come in. He was to spend the last evening at his sister's +house. + +Captain Langrishe's face, however, did not invite questions. He made no +allusion at all to the happenings of the afternoon, and his sister felt +that she could not ask him. She had a heavy heart for him as she bade +him good-night, although she called something after him with a cheerful +pretence about their rendezvous next morning. + +"It _is_ nine-thirty at Fenchurch Street, isn't it?" she asked. + +"Do you think you will ever manage it, Bel?" Captain Langrishe smiled at +her haggardly. + +"Oh, yes, easily--by staying up all night," she answered. + +But her heart was as heavy as lead for him. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GENERAL HAS AN IDEA + + +When Sir Denis came home from his club that evening he learned that Miss +Nelly had gone to bed with a headache. + +Pat, who told him, looked away as he gave the information, as though he +did not believe in his own words. Miss Nelly with a headache! Why, God +bless her, she had never had such a thing, not from the day she was +born! To be sure, the whole affectionate household knew that there was +some cloud over Miss Nelly. They didn't talk much about it. Pat and +Bridget knew better than to have the servants' hall gossiping over the +master and Miss Nelly. A new under-housemaid, who was greatly addicted +to the reading of penny novelettes, suggested that Miss Nelly was being +forced into marrying her cousin by the machinations of his mother, who +was not _persona grata_ with the servants' hall. But Pat had nipped the +young person's imaginings in the bud. + +"She may be contrairy enough to give the General the gout in his big toe +and the twisht in his timper, as often she's done. But she can't make +our Miss Nelly marry where she don't like. If you'd put your romantic +notions into your scrubbin' now, Miss Higgs; but I suppose it's your +name is the matter with you, and you can't help it." + +The under-housemaid, whose name happened to be Gladys Higgs, was reduced +to tears by this remark, and the tears brought the kind-hearted Pat to +repentance for his hastiness. + +"Whatever the dickens came over me," he imparted to Bridget when they +were having a snack of bread and cheese between meals in the room +allotted to the cook, who was now also housekeeper, "to go sharpenin' my +tongue on that foolish little girl? It isn't for you an' me to be makin' +fun of their quare names. 'Tis no credit to us if we have elegant names +in the counthry we come from." + +"Aye, indeed. Where would you find pleasanter thin MacGeoghegan or +McGroarty or Magillacuddy? There was a polisman in our town by the name +of McGuffin. I always thought it real pleasant." + +"Sure what would be on the little girl?--'tis Miss Nelly, I mean," said +Pat, in a manner that showed his real anxiety. "She scared me, so she +did, with her nonsense, that Gladys. For it stands to reason that Miss +Nelly wouldn't mind marryin' Sir Robin--isn't he the fittest match for +her?--if it wasn't that there might be someone else. And who could it +be, I ask you, unbeknownst to us that has watched over her from a +babby?" + +"You're a foolish man to be takin' that much notice of that Gladys girl +and her talk. Why shouldn't Miss Nelly have a headache? Why, I remember +the Miss O'Flahertys, Lord Dunshanbo's daughters, when I was a little +girl; and 'twas faintin' on the floor they were every other minute and +everyone havin' to run and cut their stay-laces. They were fifty, too, +if they were a day, so they ought to have had more sense. Why wouldn't +Miss Nelly have Quality ways?" + +"Young ladies aren't like that nowadays," Pat said dolefully. "'Tis the +bicycle and the golf. They've no stay-laces to cut, so they don't go +faintin' away. And Miss Nelly, poor lamb, she'd never be thinkin' of +doing such a thing." + +He went off sorrowfully, shaking his head. The mysteriousness of the +change in Miss Nelly perturbed him the more. He looked away from the +General when he gave the information about the headache. + +"Miss Nelly said, sir," he volunteered, "that she was to be called, +unless she was asleep, when you came home to dinner. Shall I send up +Fanny to call her?" + +"Not for worlds," said the General. "I'll go myself. She mustn't be +disturbed, poor child, if she has a headache." + +He went upstairs softly, pursing out his lips as he went along in +troubled thought. He opened the door of his daughter's room, and spoke +her name in a whisper. There was not a sound. + +"Fast asleep," he said, with a sigh, as he went to his dressing-room to +dress for dinner. That was something he would not have omitted for any +possible calamity that could befall him. + +He ate his dinner in lonely state. Bridget had done her best by way of +expressing her sympathy, but he ate without his usual enjoyment. + +"Sure," said Pat afterwards, "he didn't know but what it was sawdust he +was atin' instead of that beautiful volly-vong of yours. He could barely +touch the mutton, and a beautiful little joint it was. Sure, there's a +sad change come over the house, anyway." + +The General gave orders that Miss Nelly was not to be disturbed again +that night. After dinner he retired to his den and made a pretence of +reading the papers, but his heart wasn't in it. He missed even a speech +of Robin's which would have enraged him in happier times. He sat turning +over the sheets and sighing to himself now and again; only when Pat came +in with a pretence of replenishing the fire--it was Pat's way of showing +his silent sympathy--was the General absorbed in his newspaper. Not that +it imposed on Pat, who mentioned afterwards to Bridget that he didn't +believe the master knew a word of what he was looking at. + +About half-past nine the General relinquished that pretence of reading. +He felt the house to be nearly as sad as though someone were lying dead +in it, and he could support it no longer. He must find out what was the +matter with the child, or at least show her how her old father's heart +bled for her. He got up quietly from his big easy-chair, from which he +had been used to survey his Nelly's face at the other side of the +fireplace for many a happy year. To be sure, it had not been the same +since the Dowager had come, and Nelly had gone gadding of evenings. +Still, she had always come in to kiss him before she went off, looking +radiant and sweet, with the hood of her evening cloak over her bright +head and framing the dearest face in the world. She had always clung to +him with her soft arms about his neck, and he had not minded her absence +since she was enjoying herself as she ought at her age. + +He climbed up the stairs of the high house. Nelly had chosen a bedroom +right at the top, whence she could look away over the London roofs to +the mists that hid the country. + +The blinds were up and the cold winter moon lay on the girl's bed. The +General came in tip-toe, trying to avoid creaking on the bare boards, +which Nelly preferred to carpets. But his precaution was unnecessary. +She was lying wide-awake. The darkness of her eyes in her face, +unnaturally white from the moonlight, frightened him. He had a memory of +Nelly's mother as he had seen her newly-dead, and the memory scared him. + +"Is that you, papa?" Nelly asked, half-lifting herself on her pillow. +"Come and sit down. I was thinking of dressing myself and coming down to +you." + +"You mustn't do that if your headache is not better." + +"It was nothing at all of a headache," she said with a weary little +sigh, "but I must have fallen asleep. If I had not I should have come +down to dinner. I only awoke just before the church clock struck nine. +Were you very lonely?" + +"I am always lonely without you, Nell. You have had nothing to eat, have +you? No. Well, perhaps you'd better come down and have a little meal in +the study by the fire. Unless you'd prefer a fire up here. The room +strikes cold. To be sure, the windows are open. There is snow coming, I +think." + +"I like the cold. I'm not hungry, but I shall get up presently. I +haven't really gone to bed." + +She put out a chilly little hand over her father's, and he took it into +his. When had they wanted anyone but each other? What new love could +ever be as true and tender as his? + +"Oh!" cried Nelly, burying her face in her pillow. "I'm a wicked girl to +be discontented. I ought to have everything in the world, having you." + +"And when did my Nelly become discontented?" he asked, with a passionate +tenderness. "What has clouded over my girl, the light of the house? What +is it, Nell?" + +He had been both father and mother to her. For a second or two she kept +her face buried, as if she would still hold her secret from him. His +hand brushed the pale ripples of her hair, as another hand had brushed +them a short time back. He expected her to answer him, and he was +waiting. + +"It is Captain Langrishe," she whispered at last. "His boat goes from +Tilbury to-morrow morning." + +"From Tilbury." The General remembered that Grogan of the Artillery, the +club bore, had a daughter and son-in-law sailing from Tilbury next +morning, and had suggested his accompanying him to the docks. "Why he +should have asked me," the General had said irritably, "when I can +barely endure him for half-an-hour, is more than I can imagine!" + +"What is wrong between you and Langrishe, Nell?" he asked softly. "I +thought he was a good fellow. I know he's a good soldier; and a good +soldier must be a good fellow. Has anyone been making mischief?" + +He sent a sudden wrathful thought towards the Dowager. Who else was so +likely to make mischief? The thought that someone had been making +mischief was almost hopeful, since mischief done could be undone if one +only set about it rightly. + +"No one," Nelly answered mournfully. + +The General suddenly stiffened. His one explanation of Langrishe's pride +standing in the way was forgotten; it was not reason enough. Was it +possible that Langrishe had been playing fast-and-loose with his girl? +Was it possible--this was more incredible still--that he did not return +her innocent passion? For a few seconds he did not speak. His +indignation was ebbing into a dull acquiescence. If Langrishe did not +care--why, no one on earth could make him care. No one could blame him +even. + +"You must give up thinking of him, Nell," he said at last. He could not +bring himself to ask her if Langrishe cared. "You must forget him, +little girl, and try to be satisfied with your old father till someone +more worthy comes along." + +"But he is worthy." Nelly spoke with a sudden flash of spirit. "And he +cares so much. I always felt he cared. But I never knew how much till we +met at his sister's this afternoon and he bade me good-bye." + +"Then why is he going?" the General asked, with pardonable amazement. + +"Oh, I don't know," Nelly answered irritably. She had never been +irritable in all her sunny life. "But although he is gone I am happier +than I have been for a long time since I know he cares so much." + +"I'll tell you what,"--the General got up quite briskly--"dress +yourself, Nell, and come down to the study, and we'll talk things over. +You may be sure, little girl, that your old father will leave no stone +unturned to secure your happiness. I'll ring for your dinner to be +brought up on a tray and we'll have a happy evening together. And you'd +better have a fire here, Nell. It's a very pretty room, my dear, with +all your pretty fal-lals, but it strikes me as being very chilly." + +He went downstairs and rang the bell for Miss Nelly's dinner. The fire +had been stoked in his absence, and was now burning gloriously. + +He drew Nelly's chair closer to it and a screen around the chair. He put +a cushion for her back, and a hassock for her feet. The little acts were +each an eloquent expression of his love for her. He was suddenly, +irrationally hopeful. He reproached himself because he had done so +little. He had thought he was doing a great deal when he, an old man and +so high in his profession, had made advances to the young fellow for his +girl's sake. To be sure, he had been certain that Langrishe was in love +with Nell, else the thing had not been possible. Now that his love was +beyond doubt the old idea recurred to him. It must be some chivalrous, +overstrained scruple about his poverty which came between poor Nell and +her happiness. Standing by the fire, waiting for Nelly, he rubbed his +hands together with a return of cheerfulness. + +In a few minutes she came gliding in shyly. That confidence had only +been possible in the dark. The General felt her embarrassment and busied +himself in stirring the fire. Pat came up with the tray--such a dainty +tray, loaded with good things. The General called for a glass of wine +for Miss Nelly. He waited on her with a tender assiduity and she forced +herself to eat, saying to herself with passionate gratitude that she +would be a brute if she did not swallow to please him. + +The wine brought a colour to her cheeks. She watched her father with shy +eyes. What could he do to bring her and her lover together, seeing that +it was Captain Langrishe's last night in England and that he would not +return for five years? Five years spread out an eternity to Nelly's +youthful gaze. She might be dead before five years were over. This +afternoon she had felt no great desire to live, but that despair, of +course, was wrong. She had not remembered at the moment how dear she and +her father were to each other. As long as they were together there must +be compensations for anything in life. + +She had expected her father to speak, but he did not. While he had been +standing by the fire awaiting her coming he had had qualms. Supposing +she had made a mistake about the young fellow's feeling for her. Such +things happened with girls sometimes. Supposing--no, it was better to +keep silence for the present. If things turned out well, it would be +time enough to tell Nelly. If things turned out well! What, after all, +were five years? To the General, for whom the wheel of the days and the +years had been turning giddily fast and ever faster these many years +back, five years counted for little. He had a hale, hearty old life. +Surely the Lord in His goodness would permit him to look on Nelly's +happiness and his grandchildren! It was another thing to think of +Nelly's children when the match was not of the Dowager's making. + +He inspired Nelly with something of his own hopefulness. She saw that he +had some design which she was not to share. Well, she could trust his +love to move mountains for her happiness. The evening was far better +than she could have hoped for, and she went to bed comforted. + +"Early breakfast, Nell," he said as they parted. "I've ordered it for +eight o'clock. But I shan't expect to see you unless you feel like it. +These cold mornings it's allowable to be a little lazy." + +This from the General, who rose at half-past six all the year round and +had his cold bath even when he had to break the ice on it. Nelly's +laziness, too, was a matter of recent date. She had always loved the +winter and had seemed to glow the fresher the colder the weather. + +The General thought of himself as an arch-diplomatist, but he was +transparent enough to his daughter. + +"He doesn't want me at breakfast," she said to herself. "He doesn't want +me to ask questions. So I shall save him embarrassment by not +appearing." + +The next morning there was no General to see the squadron of the old +regiment gallop past. No family prayers either. What were things coming +to? the servants asked each other. And second breakfast at nine for Miss +Nelly! + +"Take my word for it," said Bridget to Pat, "the next thing'll be Miss +Nelly havin' her breakfast in bed like Lord Dunshanbo's daughters. Five +of them there was, Pat, all old maids. And they used to sit round in +their beds, every one with a satin quilt, and their hair in curl-papers, +and a newspaper spread out to save the quilt." + +"'Tis too early and too cowld," said Pat, interrupting this +reminiscence, "for the master to be goin' out. And he doesn't like bein' +put out of his habits, not by the half of a second. I used to think +before I was a soldier that punctuality was the most onnecessary thing +on earth, but I've come to like it somehow." + +"The same here," said Bridget, "though it wasn't in my blood. I wondher +what they'd think of us at home?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE LEADING AND THE LIGHT + + +The General was at Fenchurch Street by half-past nine. He rather +expected to see old Grogan on the platform, and was not sure whether he +was relieved or disappointed by his absence. On the one hand, he could +hardly have borne Grogan's twaddle on the journey to Tilbury, his mind +being engrossed as it was. On the other, he looked to him to cover his +presence at the boat. + +Now that he was started on the adventure he was nervously anxious lest +he should compromise his girl by betraying to Langrishe the errand he +was come on, unless, indeed, Langrishe gave him the lead. He was as +sensitive as Nelly herself could have been about offering her where she +was not desired or was likely to be rejected. But he assured himself +that everything would be right. In the sudden surprise of seeing him, +Langrishe would say or do something that would give him a lead. He would +be able to bring back a message of hope to Nelly. Five years--after all, +what were five years? Especially to a girl as young as Nelly. They could +wait very well till Langrishe came home again. + +At the booking-office he was told that the special train for the +_Sutlej_ had just gone. Another train for Tilbury was leaving in five +minutes. + +"You will get in soon after the special," the booking-clerk assured him. +"Plenty of time to see your friends before she sails. Why, she's not due +to sail till twelve o'clock. There'll be a deal of luggage to be got on +board." + +The General unfolded his _Standard_ in the railway carriage, and turned +to the principal page of news. A big headline, followed by a number of +smaller ones, caught his eye: "Outrage at Shawur. An English Officer and +Five Sepoys Caught in a Trap. Death of Major Sayers. Regiment Sent in +Pursuit. Statement in the House." + +The General bent his brows over the report. He had known poor Sayers--a +most distinguished soldier, but brave to rashness. And the Wazees tribe, +treacherous rascals! The General had some experience of them too. Ah, so +Mordaunt was sent in pursuit. The tribe had retired after the murder to +its fastnesses in the hills. He remembered those fortified towers in the +hill valleys. He had had to smoke them out once like rats in a hole. Ah, +poor Sayers! The brutes! And Sayers had a young wife! + +He lifted his head from the paper, and stared out of the carriage +windows, where tiny cottages, with neat white stones for their garden +borders, showed that the train was passing through a residential +district much affected by retired sailor-men. The mast of a ship seemed +to be a favourite ornament, and a little flag was hoisted on many lawns. +Flakes of dry snow came in the wind, but, cold as it was, a good many of +the old sailors were out pottering about their tiny gardens. Here a +glimpse of the river, or a church spire with many graves nestled under +it, came to break the monotony of the little houses. + +The General looked without seeing. He was thinking of Sayers' young +wife--to be sure, she was not so young now: she must be well over +thirty--an innocent-faced creature, sitting at the piano in a white +gown, singing, while he and poor Sayers paced the garden-walk in the +twilight. Poor woman! how was she to bear it? Those knives, too! The +General ground his teeth in fury. + +Then suddenly another aspect of the matter flashed upon him, so suddenly +that he almost leaped in his seat. Why, the --th Madras Light +Infantry--he remembered now--it was Langrishe's regiment. How +extraordinary that he should not have remembered before! It was the +regiment sent in pursuit. Langrishe would fall in for some fighting--he +would find it ready-made to his hand. Those little frontier wars were +endless things once they started. And what toll they took of precious +human lives! In the last one more young fellows of the General's +acquaintance had been killed than he liked to remember. Such deaths, +too! Even the bravest soldier might well shrink from the fiendish things +the Wazees were capable of. + +Suddenly the train pulled up abruptly, so abruptly that for a few +seconds it quivered as a horse will after being hard-driven. The General +went to the window and looked out. The houses had been left behind and +around them was a country of grey mud-flats with the river dragging its +sluggish length through it like a great serpent. There was a windmill on +the horizon, breaking the uniform grey of land and river and sky. The +sky was heavy with coming snow. + +The guard of the train was standing on the line, beating his two arms +against his breast to warm them, and answering stolidly the impatient +questions of the passengers. + +"Obstruction on the line in front, sir," he said, addressing nobody in +particular. "Waggon broke away from the siding and got on to our track. +There's a breakdown gang doing its level best to get us clear. How long? +Can't say, I'm sure, sir. Matter of half an hour, maybe." + +The matter of half an hour became a matter of three-quarters, of an +hour, of an hour and a quarter. The train grumbled from end to end. Here +and there a particularly indignant passenger got out with the expressed +intention of walking to his destination. The officials bore it all +patiently. It was no fault of theirs. The breakdown gang, was doing its +best. It was a very lucky thing the runaway had been discovered just +before the train came round the corner. The train for the _Sutlej_ must +have had a narrow shave of meeting it. + +The General sat in his compartment, which he had to himself, with his +watch in his hand. He was thinking of Sayers and Sayers' young wife. +Mordaunt was not married, but he had an old mother at home in England. +It was bad enough for the men, the brave fellows. But that women should +have to suffer such things through their love was intolerable. + +The cold intensified. Philosophical passengers either wrapped themselves +in their rugs or got out and walked up and down, stamping their feet, +their hands in their coat-pockets. The General sat, quiet as a Fate, +staring at his watch. His thoughts were tending towards a certain +conclusion. + +At first he had been merely impatient for the train to get on. As time +passed he became more impatient as it was borne in on him that he might +possibly be too late for the _Sutlej_. He might lose the chance of +looking in Langrishe's eyes and getting the lead he desired so that he +might say the words which would bring happiness to his Nelly. Still the +time went on. His moustache became little icicles. If anyone had been +looking at him they might have thought that he suggested being frozen +himself, so stiff and grey was he. They were within a few miles of +Tilbury. It was now half-past eleven. The _Sutlej_ was to sail at +twelve. Was there any chance of his being there in time? The guard had +said half an hour! If he had not, the General might have walked with +those other impatient passengers. + +But if the General was a religious man--nay, rather because he was a +religious man--he looked for signs and portents from God for the +direction of his everyday life. He believed that God, amid all His +whirling world of stars and all His ages, had leisure to attend to every +unit of a life upon earth. He believed in special Providences. +Everything that was dear to him or near to his heart he commended to God +in his prayers. He had prayed for direction and guidance in this matter +of his girl and young Langrishe. He had thought to do his best. Well, +was not the breakdown of the train a sign that his best was not God's +best? + +At ten minutes to twelve the track was free, and the train resumed its +journey. It was now one chance in a thousand that the General would not +be too late. If that chance came, if he saw Langrishe he would take it +as a sign that God approved his first intention. If the _Sutlej_ had +sailed--well, that, too, was the leading and the light. + +As they ran into Tilbury Station a train was standing at the departure +platform. The General beckoned to a porter. + +"Do you know if the _Sutlej_ has sailed?" + +"Yes, sir--sailed at ten minutes to twelve. Might catch her at +Southampton, sir, perhaps. There's a good many people as well as you +disappointed in this 'ere train. There's another train back in three +minutes." + +"When is the next train?" + +"Three hours' time." + +The General went to the door of the carriage and looked out; then +retired hastily. He had caught sight of Grogan and Mrs. Grogan and a +number of boys and girls of all ages. Not for worlds would he have let +Grogan see him. The amazement at seeing him, the questions about his +presence there, Grogan's laugh, Grogan's slap on the back, would be more +than the General could bear at this moment. + +"I shall wait for the next train," he said to the astonished porter. The +porter had not thought of Tilbury as a place where the casual visitor +desired to wait for three hours. + +The General remained in the train till the other had steamed out of the +station. When all danger was over he alighted and walked to the hotel of +many partings. He ordered his lunch, a chop and a vegetable, biscuits +and cheese. While his chop was cooking he would stretch his legs, +cramped by that long time in the train. + +He walked along the docks, dodging lorries and waggons, getting out at +the side of a basin, with a clear walk along its edge. It was empty--the +_Sutlej_ had left it only three-quarters of an hour ago. He paced up and +down by the grey water, lost in thought. + +The _Sutlej_ had sailed, ten minutes before the time anticipated. God +had given him the sign. He had turned him from his presumptuous attempt +to be Providence to his Nelly. The General never had been, never could +be, passive. He was made for the activities of life. Yet his religious +ideal was passivity--to be in the hands of God expecting, accepting, His +Will for all things. It was an ideal he had never attained to, and it +was, perhaps, therefore the dearer. + +He was oblivious of the cold, of the creeping water, of the thickening +flakes in the air which nearly blotted out the silent ship the other +side of the basin. He saw nothing but the pointing Finger, the Finger +that pointed away from the course he had marked out for himself. He felt +uplifted, glad, as one who has escaped a great peril. Was his Nelly to +suffer the torture of an engagement to a man who would presently be +every hour in danger of a horrible death? Was she, poor child, to suffer +like Mrs. Sayers? like poor old Mrs. Mordaunt? No. She must be saved +from the possibility of that. + +He would say nothing. He would have to endure the looks she would send +him from under her white eyelids, the looks of wistful entreaty. After +all, he had not _said_ he was going to do anything. He had implied it, +to be sure, but he had not committed himself to anything very definite. +Perhaps Nelly would not discover, for a time at least, the dangerous +service Langrishe had gone on. She was no more fond of the newspapers +than any other young girl. For the moment he was grateful to the Dowager +that she claimed so much of Nelly's time. + +He began to look forward with a fearful anticipation to Nelly's marriage +to her cousin. Something must be settled at once, before she could begin +to grieve over Langrishe. He would be alone, of course, but Nelly would +be in harbour. He did so much justice to Robin that he believed her +happiness would be safe with him. He felt as if he must go home and put +matters in train at once. He was impatient till Nelly was safe. It did +not occur to him that he was, perhaps, once more wresting the conduct of +his daughter's happiness from the Hand in Whose guidance he humbly +trusted. + +He awoke with a start to the fact that he had been more than half an +hour pacing along by the water's edge. He hurried back to the hotel. +Fortunately, his chop was not put on the grill till he returned, and it +was served to him piping hot, with tomatoes and a bottle of Burton. +Rather to his amazement, he enjoyed it thoroughly, but when he had +finished it he had still more than an hour to wait. + +He drove across country to another station, and arrived home early in +the afternoon. During the return journey his mind was quite calm and +unperturbed. He had had the guidance he needed, and now he had only to +let things be--as though it were in his character to let things be! + +He dreaded meeting Nelly's eyes and welcomed the Dowager's presence with +effusion. He suggested to the lady that she should dine, and afterwards +they would visit a theatre--_A Soldier's Love_ at the Adelphi was well +worth seeing, he believed. Lady Drummond accepted, flattered by this +unwonted friendliness. He would hardly let her out of his sight all that +afternoon. She was his safeguard against Nelly's wondering, reproachful +eyes. + +He had to endure those eyes all the next day. Then--the eyes retired in +on themselves, became introspective. It was hardly easier for the +General, that look of a suffering woman in his Nelly's eyes. + +To be sure, poor Nelly had known of that journey to Tilbury just as well +as if she had accompanied him. The only thing she did not know was that +he had failed to see Captain Langrishe. And his silence--the looks of +tender pity he sent her when he thought he was unobserved, what could +they mean but that his mediation had been in vain? For some strange, +cruel reason, although he loved her and he must know he was breaking her +heart, her lover would have none of her. Even the knowledge that he +loved her ceased to be an anodyne in those days. + +Everyone was so good to her. She seemed to have found a way to the +Dowager's arid heart, as her own son had not. The Dowager seemed dimly +aware that Nelly was suffering in some way, and was tender to her. She +came to the General with a proposal. Why should they not all go abroad +together and escape the east winds of spring? The General leaped at it. +Once get Nelly abroad and she would know nothing of what was happening +on the Indian frontier. He, and Nelly and the Dowager. He had not +imagined the Dowager in such a party--yet, he shrank from the prolonged +_tete-a-tete_ with Nell which the trip would have been without the +Dowager's presence. Robin would join them at Easter. They could all +travel home together. + +There was a time of bustle when Nelly and the Dowager were getting their +travelling outfits. A spark of excitement, of anticipation, lit up +Nelly's sad eyes. The General could have hugged the Dowager. + +"Your dear father," the Dowager said to Nelly one day, "how calm he +grows as he turns round to old age! I see in him more and more the +brother my dear Gerald looked up to and reverenced." + +The peacefulness, the good understanding, had their effect, too, on +Nelly. It was good that those she loved should dwell together in amity. +She was in that state that she could not have endured sharpness or +rancour. + +Only Pat shook his head disapprovingly. + +"If he goes on like this," he said, "he'll be goin' to Heaven before his +time. I'd a deal sooner hear him grumblin' about her Ladyship as he used +to do. It 'ud be more natural-like, so it would. Why would we be callin' +him 'Old Blood and Thunder' if 'twas to be like an image he was? Och, +the ould times were ever the best!" + +"He'll come to himself yet," said Bridget more hopefully. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A NIGHT OF SPRING + + +The room was a long bare one, with three deep windows. They were all +open so that the fog and the noises of the street came in freely. It had +for furniture a long office table, an American desk, several +cupboards--the door of one of these last stood open, revealing lettered +pigeon-holes inside. Everywhere there were files, letter-baskets, all +manner of receptacles for papers. There were a number of hard, painted +chairs. An American clock ticked on the mantel-shelf, a fire burned in +the grate behind a high wire screen. The unshaded gas-lights gave the +room a dreary aspect it need not have had otherwise. + +The only occupant of the room was Mary Gray, who sat at a small table +working a typewriter. She had pulled a gas-jet down low over her head, +and the light of it was on her hair, bringing out bronze lights in it, +on her neck, showing its whiteness and roundness. The machine clicked +away busily. Sheet after sheet was pulled from it and dropped into a +basket. The basket was half-filled with the pile of papers that had +fallen into it. + +Suddenly there came a little tap at the door. Mary raised her head and +looked towards it expectantly as she said, "Come in." + +Someone came in, someone whom she had expected to see, although she had +said to herself that she supposed the caretaker of the building had +grown tired of waiting, and was coming to remind her that the church +clock had just struck seven. + +"Ah, Sir Robin," she said, turning about to shake hands with him. "Who +would have thought of seeing you? I am just going home." + +"As I came past this way I looked up and saw your light through the fog. +I thought you would be going home, and that you would let me escort you +to your own door. There is a bit of a fog really." + +"I am glad you did not come out of your way. Thank you. I shall be ready +in a few minutes. You don't mind waiting?" + +"Not at all. May I smoke?" + +"Do. It will be pleasanter than the smell of the fog." + +"Ah! I hadn't noticed the smell. I have a delusion, or do I really +smell--violets?" + +"There are some violets by your elbow. I was wearing them, but they +drooped, so I put them into water to revive them." + +She turned back again to her work, and the clicking of the machine began +anew. He leant to inhale the smell of the violets. Then, with a glance +at her bent head, he drew one from the bunch, and, taking a pocket-book +out of his coat-pocket, he opened it, and laid the violet between two of +its pages. + +While he waited he looked about him. The ugliness of the room did not +affect him. The flaring gas, the business-like furniture, the unhomely +aspect of the place, did not depress him. On the contrary, in his eyes +it was pleasant. He always came to it with a sensation of happiness, +which was not lessened because he felt half-guilty about it. To him the +room was the room which for certain hours of every day contained Mary +Gray. What did it matter if the case was unlovely since it held her? + +Presently the clicking of the machine ceased, and she looked up at him +with a smile. + +"You are very good to wait for me," she said. + +"Am I?" he answered, smiling back at her. "There is not very much to do +to-day. The House is not sitting, and my constituency has been less +exacting than usual." + +She put the cover on her machine, locked up her desk, and then retired +into a corner, where she changed her shoes, putting her slippers away +tidily in a cupboard. She put on her hat, setting it straight before a +little glass that hung in one corner. She got into her little blue +jacket, with its neat collar and cuffs of astrachan. Then she came to +him, drawing on her gloves. + +"I am quite ready now," she said. + +They lowered the gas, and went down the stone steps side by side. At the +foot of the stairs Mary stopped to call into the depths of the back +premises that she was going home, and a woman's voice bade her +good-night. + +It was cold in the street, and there was a light brown fog through which +the street lamps shone yellowly. + +The omnibuses crept by quietly, in a long string, making a muffled sound +in the fog. As they went towards the nearest station a wind suddenly +blew in their faces. + +"It is the west wind," she said. "And it breathes of the spring." + +"There will be no fog to-night," he answered. "See, it is lifting. The +west wind will blow it away." + +"It comes from fields and woods and mountains and the sea," she said +dreamily. + +The fog was indeed disappearing. The gas-jets shone more clearly; the +'buses broke into a decorous trot. The long line of lights came out +suddenly, crossing each other like a string of many-coloured gems. + +Outside the Tube station they paused as though the same thought had +struck both of them. + +"It is like the washing of the week before last," Mary said, as the +indescribable odour floated out to them. + +"Why not take a 'bus?" said he. "The air grows more delicious." + +"Why not, indeed?" she answered. "Except that I shall be so late getting +home. And it will keep you late for your dinner." + +"So it will," he said. "To say nothing of your dinner. I know you had +only sandwiches and tea for lunch. You have told me that when you go +home you make yourself a chafing-dish supper. You must need a meal at +this moment. Supposing--Miss Gray, will you do me the honour of dining +with me?" + +"Will you let me pay for my dinner? I am a working-woman, and expect to +be treated like a man." + +"If you insist. But I hope you will not insist." + +She looked at him for a moment hesitatingly. There was no prudery about +Mary Gray. She had become a woman of the world, and she had had no +reason to distrust the _camaraderie_ of men or to think it less than +honest. + +"Very well, then," she said, "if you will let me pay for your lunch +another time." + +"Why, so you shall," he answered. For a usually grave young man he +laughed with an uncommon joyousness. "You shall give me one day a French +lunch with a bottle of wine thrown in at one-and-sixpence. Mind, I must +have the wine." + +"You shall have the wine. But it isn't good form to talk about the price +of a lunch you are invited to." + +Laughing light-heartedly, they plunged into a labyrinth of dark streets. +The west wind had brought a gentle rain with it now. It was benignant +upon their faces, with a suggestion of grasses and spring flowers +pushing their heads above the earth. They passed by the Soho +restaurants, crowded to the doors. They found one at last in a more +pretentious street. + +Over the dinner they laughed and talked. There was something +intoxicating to Robin Drummond's somewhat phlegmatic nature in their +being together after this friendly fashion. + +"You have a crease in your forehead, just above your nose," he said, +while they waited for their salmon, the waiter having removed the plates +from which they had eaten their _bisque_. "Have the Working Women been +more unsatisfactory than usual to-day?" + +"I was not thinking of the Working Women," she answered. "It is family +cares that are on my mind. Supposing you had seven young brothers and +sisters whom you wanted to help to place out in the world----" + +"Heaven forbid! It's no wonder you look worried. What do you want to do +for them, Miss Gray?" + +"There's Jim. He's seventeen years old. I think he'd make a very good +bank-clerk, but at present he wants to go to sea. There isn't the +remotest chance of his being able to go to sea. The question is whether +he can get a nomination to a bank. It will be quite a step in the social +scale if we can manage it for Jim." + +She looked at Drummond with her frank, direct gaze, and he blushed +awkwardly. + +"I don't know anything at all about your people, or anything of that +sort, Miss Gray, but if I could help----" + +"I don't think you could help." Mary's big mysterious eyes under their +dark lashes, under their beautiful brows, looked at him reflectively. +"You see, you don't know anything about us. I am the eldest of a large +family. The others are my stepbrothers and sisters. I love them dearly, +and I love my stepmother, too. But not like my father--oh, not at all +like my father. I would never have left him only he sent me away. Lady +Agatha was very good to me. She paid me a disproportionate salary. And +besides--after I had been away from them for a time they could really do +very well without me. Cis and Minnie grew up so fast. To be sure, none +of them make up to father for me. But he was really anxious that I +should go. He thought I would be cramped at home, after----" She paused, +and then went on: "He would never think of himself when it was a +question of me." + +What she was saying did not greatly enlighten him. But, without a doubt, +something would come out of the desultory talk by-and-by. + +As he watched her in the light of the electric candle-lamps on the +table, which, sending their shaded light upwards reflected from the +white cloth, made her face luminous in the shadow of her cloudy hair, he +was struck again by a baffling resemblance to someone he had known. Now +and again during the months since they had known each other her face had +seemed familiar; then the likeness had disappeared; he had forgotten to +be curious about it. At this moment the suggestion was very strong. + +They had the top of the 'bus to themselves as they went on westward. At +this hour the traffic was eastward, and the mist of rain saved them from +fellow-travellers. They were as much alone as though they were in a +desert, up there in the darkness at the back of the bus, with the long +line of blurred jewels that were the street lamps stretching away before +them. + +They passed close to the trees overhanging a square, and the branches +brushed them. + +"The sap is stirring in the trees to-night," she said. "Can't you smell +the sap and the earth?" + +"I associate you with the country and green things," he answered +irrelevantly. "Can you tell me, Miss Gray, how it is that I who have +always seen you in London yet always think of you in fields and woods?" + +She laughed with a fresh sound of mirth. + +"We met long ago, Sir Robin," she said. "I have always been wondering +how long it would be before you found out." + +"Where?" + +"Think!" + +A sudden light broke over him. + +"You were the little girl who came with old Lady Anne Hamilton to the +Court. It is nine years ago. I never knew your name. Lady Anne died one +Long Vacation when I was abroad. I did not hear of it for a long time +afterwards. I asked my mother once if she knew what had become of you, +but she did not. Why, to be sure, you are that little girl." + +"Lady Anne was very good to me. She gave me an education. Only for her +the thing I am would not be possible. And I mean to be more than that. +Do you know that I am writing a book?" + +"A novel? Poems?" + +"That is what my father's daughter ought to be doing. No--it is a book +on the Economic Conditions of Women's Work." + +"It is sure to be good, _citoyenne_." + +"I am a revolutionary," she said seriously. "I have learnt so much since +I have been at this work. I have things to tell. Oh, you will see." + +"I remember Lady Anne as the staunchest of Conservatives." + +"Yes, yet she was tolerant of other opinions in her friends. She was +very good to me, dear old Lady Anne." + +"To think I should not have remembered!" + +"I knew you all the time. To be sure, there was your name. I don't think +you ever knew my name. You called me Mary all the afternoon. Do you +remember the puppy you sent me--the Clumber spaniel? He died in +distemper. He had a happy little life. I wept bitter tears over him." + +"Why didn't you tell me before?" + +"I thought I'd leave you to find out." + +"I am a stupid fellow." He leant towards her, and inhaled the scent of +her violets. + +"I don't think I should have guessed it now," he said, "only for the +spring. To think you are Mary!" He lingered over the name. + +"I am sorry about the Clumber. You shall have another when you ask for +it." + +It was a long drive westward. They got down at Kensington Church, and +went up the hill. Close by the Carmelites they turned into a little +alley. The lit doorway of a high building of flats faced them. + +"Now, you must come no farther," she said, turning to him and holding +out her hand. + +"Let me see you to your door," he pleaded. + +"If you will, but it is a climb for nothing." + +"What a barrack you live in!" he said, as they went up the stone steps. + +"It was built for working men originally, but perhaps there is none +hereabouts. It is now chiefly occupied by working women. They are +extremely pleasant and friendly. To be sure, they are West-End working +women. Now, Sir Robin, I must bid you good-bye." + +They were at the very top of the house. The staircase window was wide +open, and the sweet smell of wet earth came in. She had put the +latch-key in the door and opened it--she had turned on the electric +light. Now, as she held out her hand to him in farewell, he caught sight +of the pleasant little room beyond. He had the strongest wish to cross +the threshold on which she was standing; but, of course, it was +impossible. + +"When my cousin comes back from abroad," he said, "I want you to know +each other, Miss Gray. Perhaps you will ask us to tea here." + +"I shall be delighted," she said frankly. + +"You like your quarters?" + +He was oddly reluctant to go. + +"Very much indeed." + +"You are near Heaven." + +"I hear the singing at the Carmelites. I can see the tops of the trees +in Kensington Gardens. To be sure, I ought to live nearer my work. But +these things counterbalance the distance. By the way, do you know that +Mrs. Morres is in town?" + +"I had not heard." + +"She has come up for a week's shopping." + +"Ah! I must call on her. I like her douches of cold water on all our +schemes." + +"So do I." + +He looked at her with a dawning intention in his eyes. Before he could +speak the words that were on his lips the opposite door opened, and a +young woman, wearing an artist's blouse, with close-cropped dark hair +and a frank boyish face, came out. + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Gray, do you happen to have any methylated +spirit?" + +"Good-night, Miss Gray." + +He lifted his hat and went down the stairs. On the next landing he +paused and listened with a smile to the conversation overhead. It +appeared that Mary had only enough methylated spirit for a single +occasion. + +"Then you must come to breakfast with me in the morning," said the other +girl. "Can you oblige me with a few slices of bacon?" + +It was the true communistic life. + +He was smiling to himself still as he walked up the hill homewards. +"Winter is over and past, and the spring is come," he murmured to +himself. And to think that a few hours ago the fog was creeping over the +City! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +HALCYON WEATHER + + +Mrs. Morres was looking benignantly, for her, at Sir Robin Drummond. + +"Well, I must say I'm pleased to see you," she said. "It's very handsome +of you, too, to give up the affairs of the nation for an old woman like +me. How do you suppose things are getting on without you?" + +"The House is not sitting this afternoon. You know it rises for the +Easter vacation to-morrow." + +"On Thursday I go down to Hazels. I wanted that bad person, Mary Gray, +to come with me. She says she has to work at her book. Did you ever hear +such stuff and nonsense? As though the world can't get on without one +young woman's book. I told her she could do it at Hazels. She says she +couldn't--that she'll have to be out all day long. London will not tempt +her out, she says. Is she to go bending her back and dimming her eyes +while the lambs are at play in the fields and the primroses thick in the +woods?" + +"She's an obstinate person, Mrs. Morres. When she has made up her mind +to do a thing----" + +"Ah! you know her pretty well." + +"We first met about nine years ago." + +"Dear me! I had no idea that you were such old friends. I thought you +met first in this house." + +"Lady Anne Hamilton, the old lady who adopted Miss Gray, was my mother's +friend." + +He said nothing about the fact that twelve hours ago he had not known +Mary Gray for the child he had played with for one afternoon, nor of the +long gap between that occasion and their next meeting. Not from any +disingenuousness; but he had a feeling that he liked to keep that +meeting of long ago to himself. + +"Dear me, to be sure you would be interested in Mary. You would know a +good deal about her. Nine years--it is a long time." + +If he had been the most consummate plotter he could not better have +paved the way for the suggestion he was about to make. + +"Put off your return to Hazels till Saturday morning. I want to take you +and Miss Gray into the country for a day on Thursday." + +"Indeed, young man! And wait for the Saturday crowd of holiday-makers! A +nice figure I should be struggling among them." + +"I will be at Victoria to see you off." + +"Oh, you needn't do that." Mrs. Morres turned about with the +inconsequence of her sex. "I've brought one of the maids up with me. She +will take care of me better than most men. She is alarming, this good +Susan, to the people who don't know her. But I thought you were going +abroad?" + +"So I am. Saturday morning will do me very well." + +"How did you know I was in town? No one is supposed to. All the blinds +are down in front and will be till her Ladyship returns." + +"Miss Gray told me. I saw her yesterday." + +She looked at him sharply. His honest, plain face reassured her. A +friendship of nine years, too. What trouble could there possibly arise +after a friendship of nine years? Mary must know that he was all but +engaged to his cousin. + +"Does she approve of the country trip?" + +"I have not asked her. I left that to you to do. She has been shut up in +London all the winter. She needs a breath of country air." + +"So she does. She shows the London winter, though you may not see it. +Very well, you shall take us both into the country on Thursday. Mary +will not dream of refusing me." + +"That is it. She means to spend those six days between Thursday and +Wednesday toiling at her book. I have heard her say that she will spend +Thursday at the British Museum." + +"Stuff and nonsense, she shan't! The world will do just as well without +the book. She must come to Hazels on Saturday. You will help me to +persuade her?" + +"I will do my best. How did you leave Hazels?" + +"Lovely. For the rest, a wilderness of despairing dogs. They will +forgive me if I bring back Mary. By the way, what have you got for me to +do on Friday? If you will keep me in town when all the shops are shut! +Not that it matters. I've finished all my shopping. But am I to spend my +Good Friday here, in this room? London streets are no place for a poor +woman on Good Friday." + +"Will you go to church? There is a service at a church near here, with +Bach's Passion music." + +"I should like to, of all things. Afterwards, perhaps, Mary would give +us tea at her eyrie. You and she must dine with me. She is coming this +evening to dinner. Come back to dinner at half-past seven and help me to +persuade her. I can only give you a chop. Some mysterious person in the +lower region cooks for me. She is the plainest of the plain." + +"It will be a banquet, with you." + +Sir Robin was not a young man who paid compliments easily. When he did +pay one it had always an air of sincerity. Mrs. Morres looked pleased. +She was very fond of Robin Drummond. + +When he and Mary met at the door a few hours later he made a jest about +their dining together again so soon, and they laughed about it--to be +sure, that dinner at the restaurant was a secret, something that did not +belong to the conventional life. There was the air of a little +understanding between them when they presented themselves to Mrs. Morres +in the book-room which she used for all purposes of a sitting-room +during her flying visit to town. It was a pleasant room, with book-cases +all round it filled with green glass in a lattice of brass-work. The +books were hidden by the glass, but it reflected every movement of a +bird or a twig or a cloud outside like green waters. The ceiling was +domed like a sky and painted in sunny Italian scenery. It was not dull +in the book-room on the dullest day. + +"Did you come together?" Mrs. Morres asked curiously. + +"I swear we did not," Sir Robin replied, with mock intensity. "I came +from the east, Miss Gray from the west. We met on your doorstep." + +"You looked as if you were enjoying a joke when you came in." + +"There was time for one between the ringing of the bell and the opening +of the door." + +"Ah, you see, the people downstairs are very old." + +Mary allowed herself to be persuaded to the country expedition next day. +The spring had been calling to her, calling to her to come out of London +to the fields. More, she consented to go to Hazels on the Saturday. The +spring had disturbed her with a delicious disturbance. It was no use +trying to be dry-as-dust since the spring had got into her blood. The +book must wait till she came back. + +On Thursday the exodus from town had not yet begun. They left soon after +breakfast. As Mary hurried from her Kensington flat to Paddington +Station she met the church-goers with their prayer-books in their hands. +It was Holy Thursday, to be sure--a day for solemn thought and +thanksgiving. She hoped hers would not be less acceptable because it was +made in the quietness of the fields. + +It was an exquisite day of April--true Holy Week weather, with white +clouds, like lambs straying in the blue pastures of the sky, shepherded +by the south-west wind. The almond trees were in bloom. They had begun +to drop their blossoms on the pavements, making a dust of roses in +London streets. As they went down from Paddington the river-side +orchards and gardens were starred with the blossom of pear and plum. +Everywhere the birds were singing jocundly. The promise of spring a few +days earlier had been nobly fulfilled. + +The sun shone powerfully as they left the country station and went down +a road set with bare hedges on either side. A week ago there had been +frost. Now there was a grateful odour from the millions and millions of +little spear-heads of grass that were pushing above the ground. On the +banks by the side of the road there were primroses and violets, while +there was yet a drift of last week's snow in the sheltered copses. + +They found an inn by the side of the road. To the back of it lay a belt +of woods. In front was a great stretch of cornfield and pasturage. In +the distance a church-spire and yet other woods. + +There was no village in sight. The village was, as a matter of fact, +lying about its green and velvety common just a little way down the +road. The place was full of the singing of the birds, and of another +sound as sweet, the rushing of waters. A little river ran down from the +higher country and passed through the inn-garden, turning a water-wheel +as it went. The picture on the old sign was of a water-wheel. The inn +was called the Water-Wheel. + +"What a name to think upon!" said Mary, with a sigh, "in a torrid London +August! it sounds full of refreshment." + +"Its patrons would no doubt prefer the Beer-Keg," said Mrs. Morres, and +was reproached for being cynical on such a day. + +While they waited for a meal they explored the delightful inn-garden. It +was not Sir Robin's first visit, and he was able to point out to them +the lions of the place. There was the landlord's aviary of canary-birds, +so hardy that they lived in the open air all the year round. There were +the ferrets in a cage. Not far off, in a proximity which must have +profoundly interested the ferrets, there was an enclosure of white +rabbits. There was a wild duck which had been picked up injured in the +leg one cold winter, and had become tame and followed them about now +from place to place. There were a peacock and a peahen, a sty full of +tiny, squeaking black piglets, hives of bees, all manner of pleasant +country things. A lordly St. Bernard, with deep eyes of affection, +followed Sir Robin as a well-remembered friend. + +"Out in the woods," Sir Robin said, "there is a pond which later will be +covered with water-lilies. The nightingales will have begun now. The +wood is a grove of them. The landlord owned up handsomely when I came +here first that 'they dratted things kept one awake at night.' I was +only sorry they did not keep me. But after the first I slept too +soundly." + +"What did you find to do?" Mrs. Morres asked. + +"Fish. There are plenty of trout in the upper reaches of the river." + +They found their lunch of cold roast beef and salad, rhubarb tart and +cream, delicious. The landlord had some good old claret in his cellar +and produced it as though Sir Robin were an honoured guest. They sat to +the meal by an open window. There were wallflowers under the window. In +a bowl on the table were hyacinths and sweet-smelling narcissi. + +After the meal Mrs. Morres was tired. "Let me rest," she said, "till +tea-time. What did you say was the train? Five-thirty? Will you order +tea for half-past four? It is half-past two now. Go and explore the +woods. I believe I shall go asleep if I'm allowed. The buzzing of the +bees out there is a drowsy sound." + +Mary voted for walking up-stream, and confessed to a passion for +tracking rivers to their sources. They stepped out briskly. She was +wearing a long cloak of grey-blue cloth, which became her. Presently she +took it off and carried it on her arm. Her frock beneath repeated the +colour of the cloak. It had a soft fichu about the neck of yellowed +muslin, with a pattern of little roses. He looked at her with +admiration. He knew as little about clothes as most men, and, like most +men, he loved blue. She did well to wear blue on such a day. The grey of +her eyes took on the blue of her garments, a blue slightly silvered, +like the blue of the April sky. + +As the ground ascended, the stream brawled and leaped over little +boulders green with the water-stain and lichens. There were quiet pools +beside the boulders. As they stood by one they saw the fin of a trout in +the obscurity. + +They met no one. Presently they were higher than the woods and out on a +green hillside. When they first appeared the place was alive with +rabbits, who hurried to their burrows with a flash of white scuts. + +"If we sit down on the hillside we can see the valley," Sir Robin said. +"We can look down into the valley at our leisure. It is filled with a +golden haze. This good sun is drawing out the winter damps. You shall +have my coat to sit on. Wasn't I far-seeing to bring it?" + +He spread the coat, which he had been carrying on his arm, for Mary, and +she sat down on the very edge of the incline. The St. Bernard laid his +silver and russet head on her skirt. They had lost sight of the river +now. It had retired into the woods. When they sat down Sir Robin +consulted his watch, and found that they might stay for nearly an hour. +There was a bruised sweetness in the atmosphere about them, which they +discovered presently to be wild thyme. They were sitting on a bed of it. +He thought of it afterwards as one of the sweetnesses that must be +always associated with Mary Gray, like the smell of violets. The full +golden sun poured on them, warming them to the heart. The bees buzzed +about the wild thyme and the golden heads of gorse. Little blue moths +fluttered on the hillside. The rabbits, lower down the hill, came out of +their burrows again and gambolled in the sunshine. + +"How sweet it all is!" Mary said impulsively. "I shall always remember +this day." + +"And I." + +He plucked idly at the wild thyme and the little golden vetches among +the coarse grass of the hillside. A fold of the blue dress lay beside +him. He touched it inadvertently, and the colour came to his cheek: +unobserved, because he had his hat pulled down over his eyes, and Mary +was sketching for him in detail the plan of her book. It interested him +because it was hers. Her voice sounded like poetry. He had not wanted +poetry. Blue-books and statistics had satisfied him very well, hitherto. +But, to be sure, he had read poetry in his Oxford days. Lines and tags +of it came into his mind dreamily as he listened to her voice. He did +not touch that fold of her gown again. If he was sure--but he was not +quite sure. And there was Nelly. He supposed Nelly cared for him if she +was willing to marry him. If Nelly cared--why, then, he had no right to +think of other possibilities. + +Something had gone out of the glory and enchantment of the day as they +went back down the hillside. Those lambs of clouds had suddenly banked +themselves up into grey fleeces which covered the sun. The wind blew a +little cold. + +"It is the capriciousness of April," said Mary, unconscious of any +change in the mental atmosphere. + +He stopped on the downhill path, took her cloak from her arm, and with +kind carefulness laid it about her shoulders. As he arranged it he +touched one of the soft curls that lay on her white neck, and again a +thrill passed through him. He began to wish that he had not planned this +country expedition, after all. He ought really to have started this +morning for the Continent. Going on Saturday, he would have very little +time to stay. + +On the homeward way Mrs. Morres reproached him with his dulness. What +had come to him? + +He hesitated, glancing at Mary in her corner. Mary had enjoyed her day +thoroughly, and was wearing an air of great content. She was carrying a +bunch of the wild thyme. She had taken off her hat and her cloudy hair +seemed blown about her head like an aureole. She had a delicate, wild, +elusive air. He withdrew his glance abruptly. + +"It is a guilty conscience," he said. "I ought not to come back and dine +with you to-night. I ought to put you into a cab and myself into +another, go home for my bag and take the night-express to Paris. The +House only rises for ten days and I have to be in my place on the +opening night." + +Mary looked up at him with a friendly air of being disappointed. She was +engaged in putting the wild thyme into a bunch, stalk by stalk. Mrs. +Morres began to protest-- + +"Well, of all the deceitful persons! After luring me to spend a Good +Friday in town. To be sure, I shall have Mary. Will you come to the Good +Friday service at St. Hugh's with me, Mary?" + +"I should love to come." + +"Very well, then. Have your bag packed and come back with me to sleep. +We shall get off the earlier on Saturday morning. So we shan't miss you +at all, Sir Robin." + +He looked at her with great contrition. + +"My mother--" he began. + +"To be sure, your mother has first claim. To say nothing of another." + +He coloured. Mary was looking at him with kind interest. Mrs. Morres +sent him a quick glance--then looked away again. + +"To be sure, you must go, Sir Robin," she said, in a serious voice. "I +was only jesting. Ah! here we are! So it is good-bye." + +"Au revoir," he corrected. + +"Well, au revoir. I hope you'll have a very happy time at Lugano. But +you are sure to." + +A moment later they had gone off in their cab, and he was feeling the +blank of their absence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WILD THYME AND VIOLETS + + +While Sir Robin and Mary Gray sat on that English hillside, Nelly and +her father walked on a hilly road above Lugano. The April afternoon was +Paradise. Below, the lake lay blue as a sapphire mirroring a sapphire +sky. The space between them and the lake's edge was tinged with a bloom +of bluish-rose, for all the almond groves were out in blossom. Below +them were drifts of sweet-scented narcissi. All around them lay the +mountains, Monte Rosa silver against the sapphire sky. Below the +fantastic houses clustered to the lake's edge in their little groves and +coppices of green. + +They were talking of Robin's coming. The hour of his arrival was +somewhat uncertain. They might find him at the hotel when they returned, +going home in the evening quietness, when Monte Rosa would be flushed to +rose-pink and the blue sky would die off in splendours of rose and +orange. + +Nelly was certainly looking better. Not a hint had come to her of the +frontier war in which, by this time, her lover must be engaged. The +General starved for his newspapers in these days, if he did not get the +chance of a surreptitious peep at one at the English library, or when +some friendly fellow-guest in the hotel would hand him a belated print +two days old. Nelly had a wild rose bloom in her cheek and a light in +her eye at this moment. Who could look upon such a scene and not praise +the Designer? Not Nelly, certainly. As they paused for the hundredth +time to look she breathed sighs of content and pressed her father's arm +close to hers in a caress. Even though one's lover had been cruel and +had gone away without speaking, it was good to be alive. + +The appealing influence of the season was about them, too. They had just +peeped into a little wayside chapel, where there was a small altar +ablaze with lights set amid masses of flowers. The place was heavy with +sweetness. Here and there knelt worshippers with bent heads. The General +had bowed with a reverent knee, and Nelly had knelt with him before they +had gone out into the blaze of the day again. + +"There are only two armies, after all, Nell," the General had said, +explaining himself. "The army of the Lord and the army of the Prince of +Darkness. Let us rejoice that we have so many fellow-soldiers in the +Lord's army, though we fight in different regiments." + +"To-morrow," said Nelly dreamily, "the lights will be all out and the +little chapel draped in black. There will be the service of the Three +Hours' Agony. Do you think we might come?" + +"I'm afraid the Dowager would be shocked," her father replied hastily. +"She would look upon it as deserting the flag. Many excellent women are +very narrow-minded." + +They went along in silence. At intervals they sat down to enjoy at +leisure the beautiful world about them. They did not say much. There was +little need for talk between two who understood each other so +thoroughly. While they dawdled, half-way round the lake from their +hotel, the sun dropped behind the hills and left them in shadow. It was +time for them to go home. + +As they went along leisurely, Nelly's face, uplifted towards the sky, +seemed to have caught an illumination from it. It was the eve of the +Great Sacrifice. Already the shadow and the light of it lay over the +world. Nelly was thrilled and touched. That visit to the wayside chapel +had set chords vibrating in her heart. Sacrifice for love's sake +appealed to her as it does to all generous, impressionable young souls. +Though her own personal happiness had vanished, gone down under the +world with the _Sutlej_, there was yet the happiness possible of making +those she loved happy. She had understood her father's wistful looks and +tentative speeches. She knew that he desired her happiness to be in her +cousin's keeping. The old days were over, the sweet days before that +other had come, when she and her father had sufficed for each other. +They could never come again, and he wanted her to marry Robin. Robin's +mother, who was good to her, had suggested that she was trying Robin's +patience too far. Why, if she could make them all happy--she was not in +a state of mind to appreciate what marriage with one man while she loved +another was going to cost her--if she could make them all happy, ought +she not to do so? + +"Father!" she whispered. "Father!" + +"What is it, Nell?" + +She rubbed her cheek slowly against his arm, not speaking for a second +or two. + +"Father, I am ready to marry Robin whenever you will." + +The General's heart bounded up with an immense relief. + +"Whenever I will?" he said, with an air of rallying her. "Is it not +rather whenever you will? Poor Robin has been waiting long enough." + +"You are quite sure he wants me: I mean soon?" + +"He'd be a dull fellow if he didn't." + +The General had suddenly a memory of the time when he had called Robin a +dull fellow in his secret heart because he had been content to wait, +endlessly to all appearances. He put the memory away hastily as an +uncomfortable one. + +"To be sure, he wants you soon, Nelly, my dear," he said. "As soon as +your old father can give you up to him. You have always been Robin's +little sweetheart from the time you were a child. He has never thought +of any girl but you." + +He made the speech with a gulp, as though it were distasteful to him. + +"I never thought there was any girl," Nelly said simply. "Robin is not +at all a young man for girls. Only he cares so much for politics. He has +not seemed in any hurry." + +"God bless my soul, to be sure, he is in a hurry. He must be in a hurry. +When you get back to your looking-glass, little Nell, ask yourself +whether it is likely that he should not be in a hurry!" + +He was talking as much to reassure himself as Nelly. To be sure, Robin +must be as eager a lover as it was in his capacity to be. There was +nothing volcanic about Robin. He was steady, sensible, reliable! Yes, +better let the affair be settled at once. June would be a good month for +the wedding. He could go afterwards and take the cure at Vichy for his +gout. Pat could go with him. Perhaps Nelly would take over Bridget and +some of the other servants. Why shouldn't Robin and Nelly have the house +just as it stood? He would make them a deed of gift of it. He could have +a bachelor's flat somewhere near the Parks and the Clubs, with Pat to +look after him. It would be easier for him if the old house sanctified +by many memories were not to be broken up. + +Nelly's exaltation carried her on to Saturday afternoon. Sir Robin had +arrived on the morning of that day while the General and Nelly were out +climbing the lower range of a hill. The Dowager was no climber. More +than that, she had acquired tact and good feeling it seemed in her +latter days, for she left father and daughter very much together. The +General's heart had begun to soften towards her. He had begun to ask +himself how it was that he could have so persistently misjudged her all +those years. If Gerald had liked her well enough to marry her, surely he +could have done her more justice than so to dislike her. + +The Dowager had her son to herself for some hours of the Saturday +forenoon. He had suggested following Nelly and her father up the +mountain track, but she had detained him with a demonstrativeness +unusual in her, which struck him like a jarring note. What had come over +his mother? She had always been a woman of a cold and even harsh manner, +at least to him. To be sure, he had noticed with amazement that she had +been different to Nelly. She ought to have had a daughter instead of a +son. He had no idea that if he had been a dashing soldier he might have +been a far less dutiful son, a far less satisfactory member of society +than he was and yet have awakened a feeling in his mother's breast which +she had never given to him. Now he was embarrassed somewhat by her +playful insistence on her mother's right to her boy for a time. +Playfulness sat as ill on her as could well be imagined, and he was +captious over her raillery on his hurry to be at his cousin's side, +calling it atrocious taste in his irritable mind, he who had never been +irritable, to whom it would have seemed the worst of taste to question +good taste in his mother. + +More than one person was irritable with the Dowager that day. The +General was furiously irritable over the transparent man[oe]uvre by +which she packed off the young people together. + +"Enough to spoil the whole thing," he thought, pursing his lips and +pushing out his eyebrows as he did when he was annoyed. "Indelicate! +Stupid! I'd rather have her when she was disagreeable. My poor Nell! She +did not look very happy as she went. I had a great mind to go with her +and spoil things, after all." + +The cousins found their way to Nelly's favourite haunt, the little +coppice of low almond trees with the troops of narcissi and violets and +primroses colouring all the brown earth. They went into the little +chapel together. It smelt of incense after the ceremonies of the +morning. The mournful black had been removed. There were flowers on a +side-table, and the sacristan was setting the candlesticks on the fair +white cloth which he had just laid along the altar. The scents in the +woods at home had been thin and faint by these. Standing with his hat in +his hand at the threshold of the little chapel, Robin Drummond had a +memory of the scent of wild thyme. + +He was not one to hesitate when he had made up his mind. His mother had +told him that Nelly was waiting, ready for the word which might have +been hers any time those two or three years back. Her father thought the +time had come to arrange a date for their marriage. His mother, too, was +anxious to see him settled. Neither she nor the General was young any +longer. They had a right to look upon their children's happiness for the +years that were left to them of life. + +The young people were high on a mountain path, where few were to be met +with except an occasional Englishman climbing like themselves, or the +goatherds with their little flocks. He had helped her up a steep bit of +climbing. The exertion had brought an unwonted colour to her face. Her +hand lay in his, soft and warm. His closed on it and held it. It was the +hand of one who had never done anything toilsome in her life, the hand +of a petted darling. He remembered another hand, thin, brown, capable. +None of Mary's later years of ease had given her the hand of a woman of +leisure. It was the hand of a comrade, a helpmate. Nelly's hand +fluttered in his and was suddenly cold. + +"Well, Nell," he said, "do you know what I came here in the mind to ask +you?" + +"Yes." He saw the quick rise and fall of her bosom; he noticed the +almost terrified look of her eyes. Was that how women showed their happy +agitation when their lovers claimed them? Poor little Nell! How easily +frightened she was! She had turned quite pale. He would have to be very +good to her in the days to come. + +"Haven't you kept me waiting long enough, little girl?" he went on with +a tenderness which might easily have passed for a lover's. "I've been +very patient, haven't I? But now my patience has come to an end. When +are you going to fix a date for our marriage?" + +"We have been very happy," began Nelly with trembling lips. + +"Not so happy as we are going to be. God knows, Nell, I will do my best +to make you happy, and may God bless my best!" + +As he said it the scent of some little plant, bruised beneath his feet, +rose to his nostrils, sharply aromatic. It was the wild thyme, the +fragrance of which had hung about him those few days back, no matter how +he tried to banish it. + +"I will be very good to you, Nelly, if you can trust me with yourself." + +It was not the least bit in the world like the love-making of Nelly's +dreams. To be sure, he was good and kind, the dear, kind old Robin he +had always been. She was grateful that he was not more lover-like +according to her ideals. If he had taken her in his arms and kissed her +passionately like that other--she smelt lilies of the valley where Robin +Drummond smelt the wild thyme--she could not have endured it. As it was, +she answered him sweetly. + +"I know you will be good to me, Robin. When were you ever anything but +good?" + +Then he kissed her, a light kiss that brushed her lips. He felt his own +shortcomings as a lover when he saw the blood rush tumultuously to her +face, cover even her neck. Why, she must care for him with some passion +to blush like that for his kiss. He had no idea that it was the memory +of another kiss which had caused that wild flush of colour. + +"Well, Nell, when is it to be?" he asked, trying to galvanise himself +out of his coldness, trying to make the pity and tenderness which she +awoke in him take the place of passion. + +"When you will, Robin." + +"You will never repent it, God helping me," he said again. + +They came back, as they were expected to, with things settled between +them. Robin had consulted a calendar in his pocket-book and named a +date--Thursday, 23rd of July. He would be free then. The House would +have risen and he would be able to devote himself to his honeymooning +with a clear mind. He had not asked for an earlier date, but it did not +occur to Nelly to wonder at that. She was relieved to find it so far +off. Already she thought of the time between as a respite, the "Long +day, my Lord!" of those condemned to death. + +The Dowager saw nothing wrong with the date. They could wander about the +Continent leisurely, coming home early in June to prepare Nelly's +wedding-clothes. The General, after his first irritation had passed, had +brought himself to tell her of his plan about the house. She approved +graciously as she thought. It was very generous of the General. To be +sure, Robin must have a town house now he was married. Sherwood Square +was a little out of the way and quite unfashionable. Still, it was a +fine house in an excellent situation to balance those drawbacks. And of +course it must be new-papered and painted and modern conveniences placed +in it. That could be done while the young couple were away honeymooning. +Robin must be on the telephone, of course. That was indispensable. And +the furniture must be fresh-covered, so much of it as they decided to +keep. A deal of it was old-fashioned and had better go to a sale-room. +New carpets too. Already the Dowager was making calculations of what it +was going to cost the General. She was capable of a certain grim +enjoyment in the spending of other people's money. + +"Do you propose to live with them, ma'am?" the General asked at last, in +a constrained voice. + +She looked at him in amazement. + +"Why, to be sure. Poor child, she will need someone beside her. Those +servants of yours, Denis, they've had their own way too much. I've no +doubt there's a terrible leakage in the establishment." + +"If you propose to live with them, ma'am," the General went on, bursting +with fury, "I don't give up my house at all. Robin can find his own +town-house. The servants have done very well for me and Nelly. So have +the chairs and tables and carpets. I'd nearly as soon send my own flesh +and blood to an auction-room." + +The Dowager was alarmed. She tried to propitiate the General after her +usual manner towards him. It was as though she tried to distract a +froward child. + +"Dear me," she said, "dear me! I didn't mean to offend you, Denis. The +house is shabby. Those dogs have always sat in the chairs and on the +carpets. I only thought that we might put our heads together for the +good of the young people." + +"I'm a Dutchman if we will, ma'am!" shouted the General. "As for the +dogs, did you intend to exclude them, too, from the fine new house? +You'd never teach them not to sit in chairs at this time of their +lives." + +This outbreak was followed by the usual fit of repentance, in which the +General reproached himself for his hastiness. To be sure, he had been +annoyed that the wedding should have been put off for so long. In his +haste he had said derogatory things about Robin in his heart, which was +unreasonable. The fellow was a Member of Parliament and had to stick to +his post, to stick to his post like a soldier. Yet, there would be all +those weeks of June and July when bad news might come any day about +Langrishe: and Nell would be in London and would hear of it. + +So, although the thing had come about which he desired, the General was +not happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JEALOUSY, CRUEL AS THE GRAVE + + +It was the latter end of April when Sir Robin Drummond presented himself +again in the big bare room where Mary Gray transacted the business of +her Bureau. The windows were wide open now, and the dull roar of the +distant street traffic came in. It had been a showery day, and he had +noticed as he came up the stairs the many marks of muddy feet which +showed that business at the Bureau was brisk. The women were coming at +last to be organised, to learn a spirit of _camaraderie_, to see that +their good was the common good, to have hope for a future which would +not be always starvation and deprivation, sufferings in cold and heats, +intolerable miseries crowding upon each other. + +He came up the stairs, looking sadder and sterner than was his wont. He +remembered how all last winter he had run up those stairs like a +school-boy, being so glad at last to get to the hour he had desired all +day. As he passed up the staircase now he looked at the walls, +distempered a dirty pink. Outside Mary's door they were adorned by the +effusions of amateur artists, the children of the working women, +messenger boys, casual urchins, with the desire of their kind for +scribbling. It was all quite unlovely, yet it had made him happy to come +there. It was a happiness that he had had no right to and now it must be +relinquished. This was the last time he should come after this intimate +fashion. + +He turned the handle of the door and went in, rather dreading to find +Mary engaged with other visitors; but she was alone. She turned round +from her desk as he came in, and, jumping up at sight of him, she came +to meet him with an outstretched hand. + +"Congratulate me," she said. "The book is finished and accepted. +Strangmans have taken it. They took only a week to decide. I am wild +with pride and joy. Maurice Ilbert is one of their readers. He got it to +read and recommended it enthusiastically. They are to publish it in +June. Wasn't it generous of him, because there is so little of it he can +agree with?" + +"Oh, Ilbert's conscience is pretty elastic, I should say, and he can +agree with many things," Sir Robin answered. He felt vaguely annoyed +that Ilbert should have had anything to do with Mary or her book. Ilbert +was one of the younger school of Tories, a free-lance he called himself, +handsome, conceited, immensely clever, a golden youth with an air of +Oxford and the Schools added to him. He was one of the youngest members +of Parliament, and was gifted with a dazzling and impertinent wit. Sir +Robin had occasionally smarted under Ilbert's sallies. He was a target +for them, with his serious and simple views, his lean air of Don +Quixote. + +Mary looked at him reproachfully, as though the speech grieved her. + +"He is very generous," she repeated. "He has come to see me. I found him +most sympathetic. It is not a question of parties. He thinks awfully +well of the book. He says it will stir the public conscience. To be +sure, it is written out of experience, just the plain story of things as +they are. I have learned so much since I began this work." + +He had got over his first ill-temper, and now he spoke gently. + +"I am sure it is a good book," he said. "I have always felt that you +would make a good book of it because you know. Ilbert is a very capable +critic." + +He did Ilbert justice with some difficulty. He had a sharp thought of +Ilbert coming in and out as he had been used to, when he should come no +more. For the first time in his life, which had had no room for +self-consciousness, he compared himself with another man, handsome, +debonair, and remembered the lean visage over which mornings he passed +the razor, dark, lantern-jawed, almost grotesque. It was the only aspect +of himself he knew, the one which was presented to him when he shaved. + +"Now you are like yourself," Mary said sweetly. "It was not like you to +throw cold water on my pleasure." + +He turned away his head from her reconciled eyes. She was making what he +had come to say doubly hard for him. + +"I want to tell you something," he said. "I should like you to hear it +from me first, because you have been so good a friend to me. I have +spoken to you of my cousin, Nelly. I wanted you to be her friend. +Well--I am to marry my cousin in July." + +There was silence for a moment after he had said it, a silence broken +only by the ticking of the noisy clock on the mantelpiece, by the sounds +of the street outside. + +"There has been an implicit engagement between my cousin and myself," he +went on as though he set his teeth to it. "I couldn't tell you when it +began. It was made for us. I was always ready to be bound by it. She is +as sweet a thing as ever lived; but sometimes I have thought that +perhaps, perhaps, the cousinly closeness would make the other tie a +difficult thing for Nelly to accept. I was wrong. She has no desire to +break through that implicit bond." + +He was making an explanation, and Mary Gray was not the girl to +misunderstand him. + +"I am very glad," she said cheerfully, "very glad. I hope you will be +very happy. I am sure that you will be." + +He looked at her with relief, which was not altogether agreeable. He had +not done her any wrong after all. She was not angry with him. But, to be +sure, why should she be? It was unlikely that she would have taken more +than a friendly interest in him. He mocked at himself, and thought of +his harsh uncomeliness. If he had been Ilbert now his conduct of all +this winter past would have been unpardonable. But Ilbert and he were +made in a different mould. Oddly, the thought did not comfort him--was a +bitter one, rather. + +"Won't you sit down and tell me about it?" Mary said, her eyes looking +at him frankly and kindly. "I am not at all busy. The business of the +Bureau is pretty well over for the day, and I can finish my proofs at +home. Do, Sir Robin." + +She pushed a chair towards him, and he sat down in it. He felt that he +ought to go. It was a concession to his own weakness that he stayed. And +he had no inclination at all to talk about his engagement. He tried to +say something, tried to imagine what a man happily engaged to be married +would find to say to a sympathetic woman-friend about it. He could think +of nothing, only that so far as he could see there was no consciousness +in the serious bright eyes that watched him. To be sure he ought to be +glad. He would be the most miserable hound on earth if he wished her to +be unhappy because he was marrying his cousin. Yet he was not glad of +that ready sympathy. + +"Well," she said at last, "you have nothing to tell me." + +"What can I say"--he laughed awkwardly--"that I have not already said? +We have been brought up like brother and sister, but our elders always +expected us to marry when we should be old enough. We have been taking +it easy, Nell and I; thought there was plenty of time, you know." + +"And at last you have decided that the plenty of time is up?" she said, +filling the gap in his speech. Her eyes were wondering now. It was a +strange thing to her that lovers should take it easy. + +"Yes, that was it." + +"Of course, I understand now why you felt you had to go that Thursday in +Holy Week. It was very good of you to give us so much of your time." + +"You didn't tell me how you got on, what you did," he said eagerly. He +was glad to escape from the discussion of his too intimate affairs. +"What did you do on Good Friday, after all?" + +"Mrs. Morres spent the day with me. It was a lovely day. We went to the +service at St. Hugh's. The music was wonderful. Afterwards we sat by the +open window and talked. My window-box was full of daffodils. They are +just over now. Mrs. Morres said it was like the country. Afterwards I +locked up the flat, put the key in my pocket, discovered a hansom--it +wasn't easy, but 'Tilda, who comes in to tidy up for me every day, +managed it. Her young man is a hansom-driver. I stayed the night at the +Square, and we went down to Hazels next morning." + +"Was it good?" + +"Exquisite. I finished the book there. We had miraculous weather. I was +able to work out of doors in the very same green garden where her +Ladyship and I worked at the novel last year. The dogs used to sit all +around me: and I believe the birds remembered me. I am sure I recognised +one robin. I came back like a lion refreshed, with the full copy of the +book done up in my portmanteau. Since then I have been enjoying the +sweets of a mind at ease." + +"You look it." + +She did, indeed, look like a flower refreshed. She was wearing a soft +grey gown with a little good, yellowed lace about the shoulders. The +lace had been a gift from Lady Anne. It gave the final touch of +distinction to Mary's air. She had the warm, pale complexion that goes +well, with grey, and her hair seemed to have more than usual of gold in +it. Standing against the light it was blown out like a little aureole +full of stars. He had thought that he could like her in nothing so well +as her dark blue frock, but now he thought that grey should be her only +wear. + +"What time do you leave?" he asked, glancing at the clock. + +"Not for a long time yet. It is only half-past five. People come in and +out here up to quite late. I foresee that my hours will be later and +later." + +"You mustn't let them take too much of your time. You must have time for +exercise, for meals, for rest, for your friends----" + +"I am so profoundly interested in the work that I don't grumble. As for +my friends, they can see me here. For exercise I walk most of the way +between Kensington and this, either coming or going. Society is not +likely to claim me--at least, not in her Ladyship's absence. My few +friends can find me here." + +It was on his lips to ask her to let him walk part of the way home with +her. He might have this last pleasure since he was coming here no more, +at least not in the old way. But, as though her words had been a +challenge, there was a clatter of wheels and horses in the narrow street +below. + +"A carriage," Mary said. "It will be one of the fine ladies who are +interested in philanthropy and politics." + +There was a rustle of silks and murmur of voices coming up the stairs. +Sir Robin sat holding his hat in one hand, vaguely annoyed. Why should +one of those meddlesome fine ladies choose for the hour of her empty, +unimportant visit his last hour with Mary Gray? + +He sat irritated, shy, awkward, his feelings faithfully reflected in his +face. The door opened. A lady came in whom he had occasionally met in +drawing-rooms, a slight, tall woman, with a brilliant brunette face. A +delicate perfume came with her entrance. She was finely dressed, as fine +as a humming-bird, and it became her. She looked incredibly young to be +the mother of the slim youth who followed her. The youth was Maurice +Ilbert. His mother, Mrs. Ilbert, was well known as one of the most +brilliant and exclusive hostesses in fine London circles. Now she was +holding Mary's two hands in her own grey-gloved ones. + +"I insisted that my son should bring me to see you, Miss Gray," she was +saying with _empressement_. "I hope you will excuse my descending on you +like this. But I positively had to. This wonderful book of yours--my boy +has been talking of it every hour we have been alone. It is such a +pleasure to meet you. Ah--Sir Robin Drummond, how do you do? Are you +also privileged to know about the wonderful book?" + +To Robin Drummond's mind Ilbert's smile and nod had something amused, +mocking in them. He had acknowledged the greeting with the curtest of +nods. + +Now he got up, shook hands awkwardly with Mrs. Ilbert, and made his +farewells to Mary Gray. It was sheer ill-temper drove him out as soon as +they had come. He had wanted to ask Mary if he might bring Nelly when +she returned to town. He had wanted ... a good many other things. But +now he stalked away from her presence with fury in his heart. If the +Ilberts were going to take her up!--to exploit the book! The Ilberts +belonged to the young Tory party which his soul detested, or he said so +in his wrath; as a matter of fact, he had not many detestations, and in +the matter of politics he had no personal rancours. Yet at the moment he +thought he had, and fancied that a part of his indignation was because +Mary Gray, who had learnt in the Radical school, was going to be made +much of by advanced Tories. As he sat in his hansom, "stepping westward" +into the heart of the sunset, he bit the ends of his moustache, and it +was like chewing the cud of bitterness. Mary Gray had expanded to answer +the genial warmth of Mrs. Ilbert's manner as a flower opens to the sun. +It was not in her to be ungracious, and Mrs. Ilbert was a charming +woman. + +And now he asked himself what was he going to do for the next month or +six weeks till his mother and Nelly came home? All the winter he had +been in the habit of seeing Mary Gray two or three times a week. He had +been home a week from Lugano, and he had kept away; and all the time +something stronger than himself had seemed to be tugging at him to take +the old familiar road. He had found it a hard struggle to keep away for +those ten days. And how was he going to do it for all those weeks to +come? He had always had so much to say to her--or, at least, there had +always been things he wanted to say, for in his most intimate moments he +was naturally rather silent. + +For a second his thoughts escaped his control, and settled on the +pleasantness that bare ugly work-a-day room had meant to him all the +winter through. The sodden winter streets, swept by bitter winds, +horrible in fog and snow, through which he had hurried on his way had +had something heavenly about them. "Ah, le beau temps passe!" + +He pulled himself together with a sharp shock of reproach. He was to +marry Nelly in less than three months' time, and he was an honourable +man. When Nelly was his wife he meant that every thought of his heart +should belong to her. He must see Mary Gray no more. Yet as he pushed +the thought of her away from him it came to him that another man might +find the ugly gas-lit room, the wet winter streets with their bawling +crowds and flaring lights, something of the same magical world that he +had found them. Supposing that man were Ilbert? Well, supposing it were +so, what business had he to resent it? But however he might ask himself +rhetorical questions, the jealousy of the natural man swept over him in +passion and fury. He said to himself that now he knew why he had always +hated Ilbert. It was a prevision of this hour. + +And at the moment the General was offering up his heartfelt thanks that +Nelly's happiness was secure in the keeping of one so steady and +reliable, if rather dull and slow, as Robin Drummond. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TWO WOMEN + + +The travellers came home the first week of June. During the weeks that +had come and gone since Easter they had wandered about as the fancy took +them. Rome, Florence, Genoa, Venice. They followed a path of wonders; +but, somewhat to her father's dismay, Nelly did not prove the passionate +pilgrim he had expected. She looked on listlessly at the wonder-world. +Now that her first exaltation had died away it did not seem so simple a +matter to make others happy. There was no royal road, she discovered, to +the happiness of others any more than to her own. + +Her father said to himself that Nell would be all right as soon as the +wedding was over. He had not come to the point of thinking yet that +marriage with Robin Drummond was not the way the Finger of God had +pointed out to him. It was impossible not to notice Nelly's listless +step and heavy eyes. The Dowager put down these things to ordinary +delicacy, something the girl would outgrow. + +"She wants a husband's care," she said. "To be sure, my dear Denis, you +have done your best for her. But what, after all, could you know about +girls?" + +"As much as Robin Drummond, ma'am," the General said, with a growl; and +was not placated by the Dowager's tolerant smile. + +He was at once glad and sorry when the weeks were over. He dreaded, for +one thing, going back to London where Nelly might hear news of Godfrey +Langrishe. To be sure, he had acted entirely for her happiness, yet he +had an idea that Nell might be angry with him for keeping things from +her if she found out that Langrishe's regiment was engaged in the deadly +frontier war. He had been so used to being perfectly frank with her that +his reservation galled him. + +He had studied with attentiveness the columns of such papers as had come +his way, dreading to find Langrishe's name among the casualties. +Hitherto it had not occurred, and for that he was deeply grateful. If +there had been news he must have betrayed it to Nelly by his eyes and +his voice. + +"I wish we could have stayed longer," she said to him on the eve of +their departure from Italy. + +"And I, Nell." + +"Oh," she looked at him in wonder. "I thought you were keen to be gone." + +"Is it likely?" he asked with playful tenderness, "that I should be +anxious to shorten the time in which you are mine and not Robin +Drummond's?" + +They were alone, and she turned and put her head on his shoulder. + +"I shall always be yours," she said. "And I think marriage and giving in +marriage a weariness of the spirit." + +"Not really, Nell?" The General looked at her golden head in alarm, but +already she was reproaching herself. + +"Never mind, dear papa," she said. "I didn't altogether mean it. Poor, +kind Robin! What a very ungrateful girl I am to you all!" + +As soon as they got back the Dowager engaged her in a whirl of shops and +dressmakers, and for that the General was grateful. He resorted to +man[oe]uvres in those days to keep the newspapers out of Nelly's way +that revealed to himself hitherto unsuspected depths of cunning. He +opened the papers with a tremor. The orange and green and pink bills of +the evening newspapers stuck up where Nelly could see them, laid on the +pavement almost under her feet, brought his heart into his mouth. If +they could only tide over the dangerous time, and Nelly be married and +gone off on her leisurely honeymoon! Langrishe might almost fade out of +her mind, become at least a gentle memory, before anything could happen +to him: or the deadly little dragging war might be over and Langrishe +have carried out a whole skin. + +It was the height of the season and Nelly had her social engagements as +well as the preparations for her wedding. As often as was possible Robin +Drummond put in an appearance, but the House was sitting and much of his +time was taken up. He looked rather more hatchet-faced than of old. +Once, sitting in the Strangers' Gallery of the House, the General heard +someone say as Robin was about to speak: "Who is that careworn-looking +young man?" Careworn, indeed! The General fumed and fretted over it, the +more because it fell in with a certain secret thought he had had once or +twice. Robin had always been somewhat too much of an old head on young +shoulders to please his uncle. To be sure, he had fed on Blue Books and +slept on statistics, yet his engagement to a lovely girl like Nelly +ought to have made him look happier. It was indecent in the +circumstances, that's what it was, that anybody, with the remotest +justification for the epithet, could call him careworn. + +Once Robin on an afternoon when the House was not sitting called for his +cousin and carried her off in a hansom without saying where he was +taking her to. That was something of which the General heartily +approved. If Robin had done it oftener his opinion of him would have +gone up immensely. He rubbed his hands while he asked the Dowager what +Mrs. Grundy would say to such doings. "Supposing they made a runaway +match of it, ma'am, where should we be?" he asked cheerfully. To which +the Dowager replied that Robin would never think of anything so silly. +Why should he, when the wedding was fixed for the twenty-third and +everything ordered, even the bridesmaids' dresses and the wedding-cake? +"Perhaps for that reason," replied the General. But this was a dark +saying to the Dowager. + +The visit that afternoon was to Mary Gray. Even Nelly had heard of the +book which Sir Michael Auberon had praised so highly, which the +newspapers had declared to be more interesting than any novel. She had +roused herself to be interested in the visit, to talk, to ask questions, +to look about her, as they drove into the east, instead of gazing +inwards with that introspective glance which had given her eyes of late +the beauty of mystery, making them larger and darker than they had been +in the old days. + +She was exquisitely dressed, in a long cloak of cream lace over an +Indian muslin frock, and an airy hat of chiffon and feathers. She had +put on her best for her outing with Robin, her visit to Robin's friend. +It was one of the sweet things she was always doing, with an intention +in her own mind to make up for some lack or other which certainly her +lover had not felt. When she alighted in the busy street people stared +as though they had seen a white bird of Paradise; and coming into Mary +Gray's room with a basket of roses in her hand she looked like a bride. + +Now, at least, she wore the pilgrim air. She looked curiously about the +unlikely place which housed the wonderful woman as she set down her +roses, then back at Mary herself. Mary had come to meet her with +outstretched hands. Her bright look at Robin Drummond was full of +sympathetic admiration, of felicitation. She kissed Nelly warmly. She +was not an effusive person, and nothing had been further from her +thoughts than kissing, but her heart went out at once to this charming +girl. + +"_How_ good of you to come to see me!" she said, pressing Nelly's hands +in hers. "Into the east, too! And you must be so busy just now." + +"I have been longing to see you," Nelly responded. "Robin has talked so +much about you." At that moment Nelly had no doubt that he had talked. +"And I wanted to see you here, in your ordinary life. Robin says you +will not be here much longer--that there will be an official position +found for you. And it was here that 'Creatures of Burden' was written!" + +"Nearly all here," Mary said, smiling down at the young enthusiast. + +Robin Drummond stood aside, in one of his characteristically awkward +attitudes, his hat in his hand, watching them. He was not thinking +sufficiently of himself to feel awkward, although he looked it. He was +thinking of those two dear women, as he called them to himself, +objurgating himself for his unworthiness to be the kinsman and lover of +one, the friend of the other. + +He had never seen Nelly look like that before. Her air of worship was +charming. Now she let Mary Gray's hands fall while she went swiftly to +the table on which she had deposited her beautiful red roses. "I brought +them for you," she said, offering them to Mary Gray. + +"How delicious! How sweet of you!" + +The smell of the roses was in the room. It might have been the aura of +the two exquisite women, he thought. Nelly had come in carrying a little +whiff of scent that went with her, as much a part of her as the soft +rustling of her garments. He closed his eyes and there came to his +memory, sweet and sharp, the odour of wild thyme. Not a second of time +had passed when he opened them again. Mary was still praising her roses. +She was holding them to her face, leaning towards Nelly as she did so. +Her expression was more than kind: it was tender. She put down her +basket of roses and took Nelly's hands between hers. For a moment she +held them against her breast before she relinquished them. She spoke +with a little tremor in her voice. Why was it that Robin Drummond +thought suddenly of the nightingale who leans his breast upon a thorn? + +In an instant the thrill in the atmosphere had passed. She was bustling +about to make them tea, if her soft, quiet movements could be called +bustling. She brought a kettle from the unpainted deal cupboard which +housed her utensils of every day. She disappeared for a few seconds and +returned with the kettle full of water and set it on the gas-stove. She +pushed the papers away from one end of the table and covered it with a +dainty tea-cloth. She brought out cups and saucers of thin Japanese +porcelain, some sugar, a loaf and butter, a box of biscuits. While she +set her table she went on talking and smiling at them. The kettle began +to sing on the fire. + +"Ah!" she said, with a sudden thought. "The milkman will not call for an +hour yet. What are we to do?" + +"Let me go and forage," said Drummond eagerly. + +"The nearest dairy is a good bit off." + +"Trust me to find one." + +When he had gone the two girls sat down and looked at each other. No +wonder she was beloved, Mary thought to herself, gloating over Nelly's +golden head, her blue eyes with the dark lashes, her lovely colouring, +her innocent mouth. She had a poor opinion of her own beauty and rarely +looked in a glass, but she was none the less generous to beauty in +others. + +"And you are very happy?" she asked. + +She had an inclination to put her arms about Nelly Drummond as though +she were a beautiful child. She was so glad Robin had remembered to +bring her at last. It had been strange and lonely when he had ceased to +come as he had been used to. It had been so pleasant to look up when his +tap came at the door and to see his plain, pleasant face looking at her +with a friendly smile. She had grown used to his visits all that winter +through; and when they had ceased abruptly she had missed them more than +she cared to acknowledge to herself. She had an impulse to take Nelly's +hand to her breast and hold it there for comfort. + +"And you are very happy?" she said again. + +She was prepared for a happy girl's outpourings. What she was not +prepared for was the sudden shadow that fell on Nelly's face, the +weariness, as though she had been brought back to the thought of +something disagreeable. A sudden wintriness went over her charming face. +The eyes drooped, the lips trembled and were steadied with an effort. + +"I ought to be very happy," she said. "Everyone is good to me. I have +the dearest old father in the world and Robin is so kind and good. I +ought to be very happy and to make other people happy." + +But she was not happy! Mary stared at the golden head with incredulity. +For the moment Nelly's mask--a transparent one enough at best--with +which she faced the world was down. No happy girl had ever spoken so, +looked so. And it wanted only a few weeks to her marriage! + +Mary, no more logical than women less intellectual than she, felt as her +first impulse a coldness, chilling her heart that had been so warm +towards the girl Robin Drummond had chosen. The chill must have reached +Nelly's delicate apprehension, for she looked up in a startled way. + +"Robin promised me your friendship," she began. + +"And, to be sure, it is yours," Mary Gray said, still wondering at the +inexplicable thing that Robin Drummond's promised wife could have secret +cause for unhappiness. She had no further inclination to caress the girl +for whom she had been passed by. "We are going to be great friends," she +said with a cold sweetness. + +Then the kettle boiled over and created a diversion. While Mary was +still mopping up the pool it had made on the floor Sir Robin returned. +His voyage of discovery had not been in vain. He had indeed chartered a +hansom to make it, and had brought back fascinating things in the way of +cream and tea-cakes and other dainties. As he came in he glanced at the +two whom he hoped to see friends. A shadow rested on Nelly's face. He +saw nothing amiss with Mary Gray as she went to and fro, busy with the +little meal, and had no fault to find with her words as they parted. + +"We are going to be great friends, Miss Drummond and I," she said. + +But the note of the nightingale that leans his breast on the thorn, the +note of self-sacrifice and yearning tenderness had gone out of her +voice. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +LIGHT ON THE WAY + + +It wanted three weeks to her wedding when one day Nelly suddenly came +upon Mrs. Rooke in one of the narrow, fashionable streets south of +Oxford Street. Mrs. Rooke was coming out of a florist's shop, and she +was carrying a sheaf of lilies in her hand. For one second she looked as +though she would have turned aside and avoided Nelly. Then she came +straight on with a little unfriendly uplifting of her white chin. + +She might have passed with a bow if Nelly had not stopped straight in +her path. + +"How d'ye do?" she said coldly. "What a delightful day! I had no idea +you were back. But to be sure ... I must congratulate you. It is next +month, is it not?" + +"Yes; it is next month," Nelly said with stiff lips. "The twenty-third +of July, to be accurate. I have wondered about you. I hope Mr. Rooke is +well and Cuckoo and Bunny." + +Bunny was the youngest hope of the Rooke household, a wise, fat, +golden-haired child, who had taken a huge fancy to Nelly. At the mention +of his name his mother faltered. She had been used to swear by Bunny's +sagacity. Bunny had been fond of Nelly Drummond; and there had been a +time when Bunny's mother had referred to that fact as though it were +Nelly's patent of nobility. + +"Cuckoo is at school. Bunny hasn't been very well. Those east winds in +May caught him. I had a horrible fright about him. Imagine +Bunny--Bunny--choking with croup! I thought I should have gone mad!" + +For the moment she had forgotten Nelly's offences, and only remembered +that she had been Bunny's friend. Nelly looked back at her as aghast as +herself. + +"Croup! I never thought of such a thing," she responded. "He has never +had it before, has he?" + +"Never. That was why I was so terrified. I didn't know what to do. +There, don't look so frightened about it! It is over--weeks ago. Indeed, +the next day he was about, as well as ever. I should never be so +frightened again. It was the horrible novelty of it." + +That frightened look in Nelly's eyes had softened the little woman's not +very hard heart. + +"I wish I had known," said Nelly. "I have wanted to come to see Bunny. I +brought him a toy from Paris--a lamb that walks about by itself." + +"Ah! you were thinking of him!" + +There was complete reconciliation now in the mother's voice and eyes. +How could she hate the girl who loved Bunny and had remembered to bring +him from Paris a lamb that walked about by itself? She put an impulsive +hand on Nelly's arm. + +"Come home with me and see him. You are not very busy? You can spare the +time?" + +Nelly was on her way to keep a dress-making appointment, but she felt +that not for worlds would she have said so. She flushed up quite +happily. That moment of hostility on Mrs. Rooke's part had chilled her +sensitive soul. + +"Might I call at Sherwood Square for the lamb, do you think?" she asked +diffidently. + +"To be sure you may. And I'll tell you what--stay to lunch with me. +There'll be nobody but ourselves, of course. It comes to me now that I +haven't seen you for centuries." + +"Yes; I should like to stay for lunch, thank you." + +Mrs. Rooke rather wondered at the pale determination which came over +Nelly's soft face, succeeding the flush of a minute before. It did not +occur to her that Nelly had been pushing away from her with both hands +during the weeks since her return the temptation which at this moment +was offered to her. Nelly was only too conscious of the strength of her +desire to hear something of Godfrey Langrishe. + +It was a feeling she did not dare look in the face. If she had had any +idea at the time she agreed to marry Robin that she was going to be +haunted by the thought of another man she would never have agreed. Even +of late there had been moments when her common-sense had whispered in +her ears, protesting against the folly of marrying one man when another +had so taken possession of her thoughts. But day by day the net had been +drawn closer about her feet. The wedding-clothes, the wedding-breakfast, +the bridesmaids, the wedding-cake, the hundred and one arrangements for +the wedding, had all been strands of the net that held her ever tighter +and tighter. How could she, at this stage, contemplate the breaking of +her engagement? How could she? The courage of her race had not risen to +that. + +Mrs. Rooke suggested a 'bus, and Nelly agreed. Now that she had done the +thing against which her conscience protested she did not want to think +over-much. She even wanted to postpone the hearing of the name which she +had been hungry to hear for so long. The news she had desired too. How +was she going to listen to his name, to talk of him calmly? She wanted +time to gain courage. A 'bus did not give one opportunities for talking, +hardly for thinking. + +She knew perfectly well that she should find a clear coast at Sherwood +Square. The General had come part of the journey into town with her on +his way to the club. Poor Sir Denis! If he could only have seen his +Nelly now he would not have been so easy in his mind. Lady Drummond was +engaged during the morning hours; she had to lunch with an old friend. +Nelly had been contemplating lunch in a quiet Regent Street restaurant +rather than the going back to the lonely meal at home. She had known +that a telegram to Robin would have brought him to her side, but she had +not meditated sending that telegram. She had been glad, in her innermost +guilty, repentant heart of her morning of freedom from mother and son. + +The 'bus rumbled along as that vehicle of the middle ages does, making a +prodigious screaming in the ears, filling one with horrible electric +thrills as the brake was jammed down. Neither conversation nor thinking +was possible. Nelly closed her eyes a little wearily in her corner. The +other people in the 'bus had stared as she got in at the fresh +daintiness of her attire, conspicuous in the dingy vehicle. Now, as she +leant back with closed eyes, the tired lines came out in her face. Mrs. +Rooke, from the other side of the 'bus, glanced at her with pitying +wonder. + +"Dear me!" she thought to herself. "It isn't the Nelly Drummond I knew. +What has she been doing to herself? She must have been racketting a +deal. She doesn't look in the least like a happy bride should. Poor +child! I wonder if she is marrying against her will?" + +Arrived at Sherwood Square the lamb was brought down and displayed to +Bunny's delighted mother. Pat whistled for a hansom, and when the two +ladies were in he carried out the animal and placed it in front of them, +where it created some excitement in its passage through the street. + +Behold Nelly, then, presently seated on the nursery floor, winding up +the lamb for Bunny and forgetting all about her beautiful lavender +muslin frock. The mother and nurse stood by as eager as Nelly herself. +Bunny, indeed, was the least interested of the party. To be sure in the +wonder-world of Bunny's mind baa-lambs that went of themselves and +bleated were no great wonder, even though it was a pleasing novelty to +find one in his nursery. He was more excited over the reappearance of +Nelly herself and stood by her with one fat affectionate arm about her +neck in a contented silence. In vain his mother asked him if he wasn't +pleased. + +"He is always like that," she said at last. "We took him to the +Hippodrome and he only yawned, even when Seeth's lions came on. He +didn't take the smallest interest." + +"Begging your pardon, ma'am, that he did," the nurse interposed. "He +were flinging 'imself on his precious 'ead twenty times a day for a week +after. 'Twas a wonder he had any 'ead left, the precious lamb. Them +there dratted clowns, I don't 'old with them nohow!" + +The reconciliation between Bunny's mother and Bunny's friend and admirer +was complete by the time they went down to lunch. Nelly had begged for +Bunny's presence at the meal, and so the young monarch of all he +surveyed was seated opposite to her in his high chair, with a napkin +tucked under his chin, playing a fandango with a spoon and fork on the +little table in front of him. Bunny filled the lunch-hour, Bunny's +sayings and doings--there were not many of the former, but his mother +managed to extract gems of wit and wisdom from his taciturnity--Bunny's +likes and dislikes, Bunny's amazing development. + +Only once was Langrishe's name mentioned. He had sent home a beautiful +mug of beaten silver for Bunny. At the sound of his name Nelly's eyes +were suddenly startled: she caught her breath; the colour swept over her +face and ebbed away, leaving her paler than before. + +Presently the luncheon-hour was over and Bunny had been carried off for +his afternoon's outing. The half-hour or so in the drawing-room was +over. Nelly was drawing on her gloves, standing by the window which +over-looked the narrow slip of square, invisible now for the flowers on +the balcony. The fateful visit was nearly at an end and Godfrey +Langrishe's name had been mentioned only once. + +She had a wild thought that her one opportunity was slipping out of her +grasp. She had come here to have news of him. She must not come again. +She must try and forget that he existed till such time at least as she +could think of him calmly. Now she _must_ know, she _must_ hear, what +was happening to him away there at the end of the world. + +She glanced furtively around the pretty room, to which she would not +come again. It was as though she said farewell to its comfort and +pleasantness. She was not going to see Bunny and his mother again, not +for a long time at least. Her gaze came back to the window, pausing ever +so slightly on its way to glance at a portrait of Langrishe which hung +on the wall, a portrait painted in the days when he had been his uncle's +heir, by a great painter. She had been conscious all the time she had +been in the room of the presence of the portrait although she had not +looked its way. The picture had caught the quiet passion and intensity +of Godfrey Langrishe's gaze, as though he looked on deeds of glory and +fought his way towards them. The face was less stern than she remembered +it; it had yet some of the bloom and bonniness of his boyhood; +renunciation had not written its deeper meaning in lines about the lips +and eyes. + +She opened her mouth to speak of him, but at first no words would come. +The fastening of her glove took all her attention it seemed. She had +turned to the light for it, away from Mrs. Rooke's sympathetic glances. + +She had almost controlled her voice to speak without trembling when the +thing was taken out of her hands. + +"I must not let you go," Mrs. Rooke said, "without giving you a message +from Godfrey. A message and gift. It came a week ago. See--here it is. I +was going to post it to you." She took up a packet from the side-table. + +"How is he?" + +At last it was said. Nelly's hand closed over the little packet. She +would open it when she got home. To think that he remembered--that he +had chosen a gift for her! Was there a word with it, perhaps? Her first +letter--and her last letter--from him was lying perhaps in her hand. + +But what was it Mrs. Rooke was saying? She bent her ears greedily to +listen. + +"He was well when he wrote, but the letter was written some time ago. +Where he is, it is not easy to get letters carried in safety. One never +knows what may be happening. It is, of course, a terrible anxiety." + +The tears came into her eyes. There had been a little shadow over her +brightness even while she had watched Bunny. Nelly had been aware of it +dimly. What did she mean? + +"Anxiety!" Nelly repeated falteringly. "Why should you be anxious? He is +not ill, is he?" + +Her heart had sunk, heavy as lead. Her soul cried out in fear. + +"You know he is with the punitive expedition against the Wazees for the +murder of Major Sayers and his companions? You never can tell what +dreadful thing may be happening to him. It isn't possible you didn't +know? And I had been thinking you hardhearted! Ah!" + +Her arms went round Nelly. + +"It isn't possible you didn't know? _Don't_ look like that! Do you care +so much as all that, Nelly? Why, then, why, in the name of Heaven, did +you let him go? Why are you marrying your cousin? My poor Godfrey!" + +She was conscious of a strident voice shouting the evening papers in the +street outside. Indeed, even while she spoke to Nelly, half her brain +was listening in a strained way to that voice as it came nearer. What +was it the creature was shouting? Before she could hear distinctly the +voice died away again in the distance. + +"Why did I let him go?" Nelly repeated after her. "Because, because, he +would not stay. He knew that I loved him, but he would not stay. He +never seemed to think of staying. When he had broken my heart it seemed +that I might as well make others happy. My father, Lady Drummond, my +cousin; they have been so good to me always." + +"But you were engaged to your cousin, weren't you, when Godfrey left?" + +Little Mrs. Rooke's dark eyes looked black in her frightened face. + +"You were engaged to your cousin, were you not, just as you are to-day?" + +"I never accepted my cousin till--till Captain Langrishe had gone. It +was understood that when we grew up we should marry to please our +parents if we saw nothing against it. No one would have wanted to bind +me if I did not wish to be bound." + +Mrs. Rooke flung up her hands with a dramatic gesture. + +"Heaven forgive me, my poor Nelly, for it was I who sent Godfrey from +you! I told him you were engaged to your cousin. I had been told so +explicitly by Lady Drummond herself. How could I doubt that it was +true?" + +Nelly turned a white face towards her. Oddly enough, in spite of its +pallor the face had a certain illumination. + +"So he went away because of that. Only that stood between us. Do you +think I am going to let that--a lie, a mistake--stand between us? I am +going to break off my engagement, even at the eleventh hour." + +The daughter of the Drummonds had found the courage of her race. She +stared uncomprehendingly at the alarm in Mrs. Rooke's expression. + +"Don't do anything rash," the little woman said, in a frightened voice. +"Supposing Godfrey did not come back. Supposing----" + +Again there sounded in the distance the voices of the vendors of evening +papers. The voices came nearer, one, two, half a dozen of them. They +were all shouting together. + +"There must be some news," Mrs. Rooke said under her breath. + +"I shall come and see you to-morrow," Nelly said. "To-morrow I shall be +free to come and go where I like. Do you know that I was bidding this +room and you and Bunny a long good-bye five minutes ago? And if he never +comes back--well, he will know I waited for him." + +So preoccupied was she with her intention that she never noticed the +newspaper boys and men fluttering their Stop Press editions like the +wings of some birds of evil omen. As she sat in the hansom she drew the +engagement ring off her finger and dropped it into her purse. Then she +sighed, as though an immense burden had fallen from her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE NEWS IN THE _WESTMINSTER_ + + +As Nelly's hansom drew up at her own door another hansom was just +turning away from it. She wondered with an impatient wonder who could +have come. At the moment she could not have endured any hindrance +between her and her project of telling her father that the engagement +with Robin was to come to an end. She was not in the least afraid of +what she had to do. The spirit of the Drummonds was thoroughly awake +now. + +Beyond her announcement to her father lay something vaguely painful +which at the moment she did not consider. She would have to tell Lady +Drummond and Robin, of course, and it would hurt them: they would be +angry with her. She was going to make a scandal, a nine days' wonder. +Her father would be grieved--angry, too, perhaps; but that could not be +helped either. + +And then--some resentment stirred in her heart against him for the first +time during all the years in which they had been together. He had kept +her in ignorance of her lover's peril. She was not a child that she +should have been kept in ignorance. For the moment she had no tender +excuses for him. If he had been candid with her, then all this trouble +about Robin might have been spared, for she could never have promised +herself as wife to another man while the one she loved was in daily and +hourly danger. + +She went into the house with a look of stern accusation on her young +face. The dogs came shrieking down the stairs in vociferous welcome as +usual, but she took no notice of them. Being old dogs and wise, they +recognised a forbidding mood in her, and retired with deprecating +wrigglings of their bodies. + +She asked Pat if there were a visitor in the drawing-room. + +"No, then, Miss, only the master. I can't make out what came over him at +all to be comin' home in a hansom." + +He was minded to tell her that the General was not looking himself, to +give her an affectionate, intimate warning; but she passed him by. He +stood watching her, holding the door open in his hand till she took the +bend of the staircase that hid her from his sight. + +"Bedad, the Dowager couldn't have done it better," he said, "shweepin' +by me without a 'By your l'ave, Pat'; and the master, callin' me +'Murphy' to my face, what he's never done since he left the rig'ment. I +wonder what's the matter with Pat. 'Twill be 'Corporal' next." + +Nelly looked into the drawing-room. Her father was not there. She turned +the handle of another door, the door of the General's own particular +den, and going in she found him. + +She never thought of asking herself how he came to be there at this hour +of the day, he who lived by rule, the click of whose latch-key had +sounded in the hall-door every evening at a quarter to seven as long as +she could remember. The clock on the mantelpiece pointed to ten minutes +to five. + +The General was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace as though he had +dropped into it on his entering the room. He was doing absolutely +nothing, and that was an alarming thing enough, if but she had noticed +it. A green evening paper was crumpled on his knee. If she had eyes to +see it there was calamity in his attitude and his looks. But she had no +eyes. She was too much absorbed in the thing she had to do. + +"What, Nell!" he said, getting up as she entered. "We must have come +home almost together. Where have you been, child?" + +To his own ear his voice rang false, but she did not notice it. She did +not meet his kiss. She did not see that he was looking at her with a +fearful apprehension. + +"What is the matter, Nell?" he stammered, noticing the alteration in her +looks. + +She came and stood beside him, seeming to tower above him. + +"Father," she said, "I am not going to marry Robin. I want him to know +at once." + +"Not marry Robin!" This was something the General was unprepared for. +"Not marry Robin! God bless my soul, Nell! It's very late for you to say +such a thing--within three weeks of your wedding! And all the +arrangements made! What will people say? What will the Dowager say? You +can't play fast and loose with a man like that, Nell. Why, it will be +the talk of the town." + +He tried to work himself up to the old fretting and fuming, but there +was no heartiness in it. Under the projecting eyebrows his old +frostily-blue eyes had a scared look. But if he had been in such a +passion as he had shown on a certain historic occasion when the regiment +had nearly scattered before the approach of screaming Dervishes--a +passion which had rallied the men and won Sir Denis his V.C.--it would +have been all the same to Nelly. + +"All that is perfectly immaterial," she said. "I am sorry for Robin and +for Aunt Matilda. But all that will pass. I was mad to consent to the +marriage. I am only glad that I came to my senses in time." + +Was this Nelly?--this young, sure, inflexible creature! He stared at her +in utter amazement. + +"Supposing I were to say that you must go on now since you have gone so +far, Nell?" he said, and felt at the same time the futility of the +saying. "I never thought my girl would play so shabby a trick on +Gerald's son. You know that people will laugh at Robin?" + +"They won't. Robin is not the sort of person to be laughed at--at least, +not for long. Besides, if it is any consolation to you, father, I may +tell you that it will not hurt Robin much: Robin is not and never has +been in love with me." + +"What!" The General now was genuinely indignant. He had forgotten for +the moment his other perturbation, whatever it might be. "What do you +mean, Nell? Your cousin not in love with you! After all the years during +which you have been meant for each other! Impossible, Nell! Robin _must_ +be in love with you." + +"He is not; he never has been. That is my consolation, so far as he is +concerned. Father, why did you keep from me the fact that Captain +Langrishe was fighting the Wazees? Why did you?" + +The General's colour deserted his cheeks once again. + +"Poor Langrishe! What was the good of letting you know, Nell? You used +to be--interested in the poor fellow." + +"You shouldn't have kept it from me. I didn't read the newspapers, or I +should have known. Do you know why I didn't read them? Because if I had +I must have turned to the army news. I was fighting that as a +temptation. I was trying to drive him from my mind. I kept away from his +sister, although she had been kind to me; I went nowhere where I might +hear his name. Then to-day I met her by accident. I went home with her. +She told me--do you know what she told me?" + +"What, Nell?" + +"That her brother went away under the impression that I was engaged to +Robin Drummond. Aunt Matilda had told her so and she had told him. So +that is why he left me." + +"I see," the General groaned. "A nice lot of trouble has come out of +that scheme of your Aunt Matilda's for marrying you and Robin. I never +would agree to it; I used to say: 'Let it be till the children are old +enough to choose for themselves.' I wish I had taken a stronger stand. I +only wished for your happiness, Nell. I always liked poor Langrishe, and +felt I could trust him with even what I held dearest on earth. I did my +best for you, Nell. If I kept his danger from you, it was only that I +hoped to keep you from suffering like those other poor women." + +She did not notice the haggardness of his face, nor the repetition of +"Poor Langrishe." She was too much absorbed in getting to the root of +things. She was determined to know everything. + +"What happened when you went to Tilbury?" + +Was this young inquisitor his Nell? + +"I didn't see him. The boat had gone." + +"And I thought you had offered me to him, and that he had rejected me! +Oh, I know you would have done it in the most delicate way. There need +not have been a word spoken. But it would have been the same thing in +the end. I thought his love was not great enough to conquer his pride." + +"My train broke down, Nell; I came ten minutes too late. I thought the +hand of God was in it." + +"It was a mere accident. God had nothing to do with it. I am only +grateful that it has not ended worse. If I had married Robin and then +discovered these things----" + +"Don't say that you couldn't have forgiven me, Nell." The General took +out a big white silk handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. "Don't +say that you couldn't have forgiven me! I meant it all for the best. My +little Nell couldn't be hard with her old father." + +She stooped suddenly and caught his hand to her lips. She noticed with a +tender contraction of her heart that it was an old hand--knotted, with +purple stains. + +"I should be a brute if I could be angry with you," she said; and the +tenseness of her face relaxed to its old softness. + +"Ah, that's right, Nell--that's right. We couldn't do without each +other. You've always your old father, you know--haven't you, dearie?--no +matter what happens. I'll stand by you, Nell. I'll take you away. No one +shall be angry with my Nell." + +"You are too good to me," she said. "And I've been angry with you! What +a wretch I was to be angry with you! On my way here I telegraphed to +Robin to come this evening. I must get it over. You shall take me away +if you will afterwards. I would stay and face it if it would do any +good, but it wouldn't. After all, there is no great harm done. Robin's +heart will not be broken." + +"And afterwards, Nell?" + +"Afterwards? Oh, you and I shall be together." + +"Yes; we did very well when we were together. Listen, Nell." He put his +arm about her. "I want you to be strong and brave. I came home to tell +you, lest you should hear by accident. His poor sister did not know----" + +The General's den looked out on the Square gardens. It was quite a long +way across them to the road; yet through the quietness of the golden +afternoon there came the shouting of the newsboys. It all flashed on +Nelly with a blinding suddenness. To be sure, they had been calling the +same thing while she stood with his sister and learned why he had left +her, only she had not known. + +"He is dead," she said, with an immense quietness. It was as though she +had known it always. + +"No; not dead, Nell--terribly wounded, but not dead. He is in English +hands." + +He stopped, shuddering. If he had been in those black devils' hands to +be tortured to death! He had been only saved by a sudden rush of his +men. Even his wounds would not have saved him from torture if God had +not delivered him out of their hands. + +"Show it to me." + +All of a sudden she saw the newspaper which had been lying crumpled on +his knee. That had contained the news all the time while they had been +talking about things that mattered so much less. + +He did not try to keep it from her. He turned over the paper and found +the page of it which had the latest news. There it was, with its staring +headlines. She seemed to have seen it just so, in another life. + +She read it through to the end. It had been an ambush. The small +detachment of troops had been led by the guide into the midst of a large +body of the enemy--it had been surrounded. Captain Langrishe had fallen, +as had a young lieutenant. The men had stood shoulder to shoulder, +fighting desperately. By the most desperate courage they had rescued the +bodies of their officers, which were being carried by the tribesmen into +one of their towers among the hills. They had fought their way back with +the bodies strapped to their horses. Lieutenant Foley proved to be dead. +He had been hacked and hewed with knives. Captain Langrishe had been +more fortunate; the life was still in him when the last intelligence had +been sent down. There was very little hope of his recovery. + +Nelly neither cried out nor fainted. When she had finished the reading +she laid down the paper quietly. Her father watched her in mingled +terror and relief. She was seeing it all--the rocky gorge with the +inaccessible hills on either side, filled in with scrub and low trees; +at the little neck of the gorge the dreadful tower; the small body of +Britishers fighting their way step by step backward; the dazzling blue +sky over all. Was Heaven empty that such things happened? She remembered +in a kind of daze that she had been at a garden-party that very +afternoon. She had worn for the first time her white silk frock with the +roses on it and she had seen in many eyes how well it became her. That +had happened in another world. A great gulf stretched between even the +events of the afternoon and this time--this time, in which she knew that +Godfrey Langrishe was dead or dying. + +"I wish he might have known," she said quietly, "that after all I was +not engaged to Robin." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE FRIEND + + +Robin Drummond had heard from his cousin's own lips his dismissal. Her +father would have spared her, but Nelly would not hear of that and he +let her have her way. + +She told Robin everything in a dull, unmodulated voice, with a +dead-tiredness in it which revealed her unhappiness more eloquently than +words could have done. She stood by the mantel-shelf, holding one hand +over her eyes while she told him. When she had finished there was a +momentary silence. + +"You are not angry with me?" she asked, turning about and looking at him +with eyes of suffering. + +"My poor child! Could I have the heart to be angry with you?" + +"Ah! that is right. You were always kind, Robin. I shouldn't have liked +you to be unkind now. You must win me your mother's forgiveness." + +"She will come round in time." + +He had an idea his mother would take it badly. But, of course, she would +have to come round. The whole bad business had been her fault in a way; +and if she was hard on Nelly, he felt like telling her so. + +"I am glad to think I have done you no great harm, Robin. Indeed, the +harm would have been in marrying you. I have realised for some time that +I was not essential to your happiness." + +He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He was not a +diplomatist. + +"I am very fond of you, Nelly," he said, after a pause. + +"Yes, I know you are. So am I fond of you. It was not enough, of course; +I ought to have known better." + +"And I. I can't forgive myself, Nell, for having been in a way the cause +of the mischief. Take courage, dear. All may yet be well. God knows what +happiness is in store for you." + +"God knows," she echoed; but there was no assurance in her tone. + +The General, lying in wait for him, drew him into his own den. He put +his hand on Robin's shoulder, leaning heavily on it, like an old man +with his son. + +"I'm sorry for this, so far as it concerns you, my lad," he said. "But +my great trouble is for my girl. She is taking it too quietly. I don't +know what is happening--inside. One knows so little about women--how +they take those things. She ought to have a woman with her." + +"His sister. She is a good little woman, and she adores him. She would +be good to Nelly." + +"You can't go tearing off to people's houses at this hour of the +evening"--it was nine o'clock--"and asking them to come with you. To be +sure, the sister knows. I don't want Nell talked about." + +"Nor I. Let him come home well and then they can talk of the nine-days' +happy wonder. I'm going to the sister. If she fails, there is Miss +Gray." + +The General snatched at the idea. + +"She came to see Nell the other day and I liked her. I began with a +prejudice--I've no liking for women who take up the trade of politics. +Writing books, too! I'm glad my Nell doesn't write books. I shouldn't +like to see her name stuck up in the papers. But this Miss Gray of +yours. She overcame my prejudice. She looks clean, my lad, clean outside +and within. Nell's fond of her. The dogs pawed her as if they had known +her all her life. I trust a dog's judgment. She didn't mind it either, +though she was fresh as a daisy. What do you propose to do? To ask her +to come round and see Nell to-morrow, if the sister fails? You can't +very well ask her to come to-night." + +He looked wistfully at Robin. + +"Miss Gray often works late," the other said, consulting his watch. "If +she is at home, why shouldn't she come back with me? She may be out, of +course; the world has begun to run after her. She is not much attracted +by the world, but she gives kindness for what she takes to be kindness. +She is not conventional. If she feels she is wanted she won't mind +coming in at ten o'clock." + +"I believe Nell would talk to her," the father said eagerly. "If Nell +would talk to someone my mind would be at rest. Poor Nell! The purpose +of my life was to keep her from pain and sorrow." + +He went back to his room shaking his old head, and Robin Drummond went +out into the night. He drove first to Mrs. Rooke's house, and found the +mistress absent. She had gone off to an old mother who had to be +consoled. + +Fortunately it was not far to Mary Gray's little flat, not more than ten +minutes' hansom drive. He told the driver to wait while he ran up the +stone steps. To his relief, when he had rung the bell at the white door +he heard someone stirring within. Mary herself opened the door. + +"Forgive my coming at this hour," he began apologetically. Even as he +spoke he remembered that he had had a chance of seeing those little +rooms that held Mary and had relinquished it on that bygone Good Friday. +He looked enviously beyond Mary herself to the glimpse of lamplit room. +He could see a white wall with pictures on its panels, a bit of a dwarf +bookcase, a chair drawn to a table heaped with books, a green-shaded +reading-lamp. Against the lighted background Mary's cloudy hair stood +out illumined. + +"What is it?" + +"It is my cousin. She is in great trouble. I will explain to you as we +go along. Can you come to her? Her father is anxious about her." + +She was a woman in ten thousand. She asked no questions, although it +occurred to him that it must seem odd to her that she should be +summoned, that Nelly should be in great trouble, seeing that he and her +father were well. + +"Shall I stay the night?" she asked. "Your cousin was so very anxious +that I should come and stay with her. She showed me the room I should +have--next to hers. Sir Denis seconded the invitation warmly. I said +that I would try to come." + +"It will be the best thing in the world. How long will you take to get +ready? I have a hansom at the door." + +"Five minutes." + +She came down the stairs in four and a half minutes. Robin had been +expeditious; it yet wanted twenty minutes to ten by his watch. + +He helped her into the hansom, got in himself and placed her little bag +at their feet. The hansom turned up the hill. She waited for him to +speak. + +"Nelly has found out that she made a mistake," he said quietly. "Her +heart was not given to me, but to a Captain Langrishe of her father's +old regiment. News has come that he has been badly wounded, so badly +that in all probability he is dead by this time. He had exchanged into +an Indian regiment, and almost as soon as he got out he was sent into +the hills on the business of this wretched little war. Those conquests +of ours, what they cost us! Why should we have all those thousands of +miles of frontiers to defend? Why can't we stay at home and let the +territories be for their own people?" + +She smiled quietly to herself in the corner of the cab. The sudden +excursion into politics was so characteristic of him. + +The wind of the summer night came cool and friendly in their faces. The +blue heaven was studded with stars. A little half-moon hung above the +quiet shadows of the square through which they were passing. For the +stillness they might have been miles away from London. + +"What a Don Quixote you are!" she said. "I believe you would cede India +if you had your way." + +"I believe I should. Don't you wonder at me, Miss Gray? My forbears +devoted their existence chiefly to extending the boundaries of the +British Empire. Am I not their degenerate descendant?" + +"Oh, you're a fighting man in other ways. You don't mind facing a +hostile audience and saying unpalatable things to them. Mr. Ilbert says +you'll have to fight for your seat at the next election." + +"I wouldn't be bothered with a seat I hadn't to fight for. All the same, +I'm obliged to Ilbert for his interest in my affairs. Do you know that +he referred to me as a Little Englander the other night, as though there +were only one way of loving one's country and that to rob other people +of theirs?" + +His tone was an offended one. The name of Ilbert seemed to have power to +irritate him. He resented the idea that Ilbert had talked to Mary of +him, disparaged him; he supposed she saw Ilbert often. The idea was +exceedingly distasteful to him. + +"He has the highest opinion of your honesty and capacity, your +patriotism too," Mary said. + +He did not want Ilbert's commendation; he hated that Mary should quote +his opinions. He lay back in the hansom, staring before him, and his +expression was one of unmixed gloom. Even her neighbourhood had no power +to cheer him, although at first he had had a sensation of delight in her +nearness to him, the perfume as of flowers that hung about her, the soft +folds of her dress which he had touched in the darkness. + +They were driving along Sherwood Square now. Across the square itself +Robin could see the lit windows of the General's house. Their time +together was short, he thought; and perhaps the same thought occurred to +Mary, for she touched his sleeve with a gesture of sympathy. + +"Will you let me say," she said, "how sorry I am for the pain and +trouble this must be to you?" + +"You mean, because Nelly has--has chucked me?" + +"Yes; I mean that." + +For a moment he looked down in silence. He wondered if he had any right +to tell the truth. Would it not be like a disparagement of Nelly if he +were to confess that he had never loved her? A memory floated into his +mind. It was of Lady Agatha Chenevix and something she had said to him +once at a dinner-party. + +"When I must be indiscreet----" she had begun. "Yes?" he had answered +laughingly. "When was your ladyship ever anything but indiscreet? and +who has made indiscretion adorable like you?" Her ladyship had bidden +him hold his tongue with frank camaraderie, and had finished the speech. +"When I am indiscreet, I am indiscreet to Mary. She is like a little +well, into which one drops one's indiscretions and puts the lid on." "A +very clear, transparent, honest well," he had said. + +After the momentary pause he lifted his head. The rest of the world +might think him heartbroken if it would; he wanted Mary to know the +truth. + +"As a matter of fact, Miss Gray," he said, "Nelly has not broken my +heart. She had always been very dear to me, like a dear little sister. +There was a time when I felt that it would be quite easy to fall in with +my mother's plan and marry Nelly. But I had come to the conclusion that +my feeling for her was not enough for marriage, before that time in the +spring when my mother intimated to me that Nelly was ready to fulfil her +engagement. I never considered it an engagement. I was actually about to +make things clear when that intimation was given to me. Then, I was led +to believe that Nelly had taken it as binding. What could I do only go +on? If Nelly cared for me--I confess that I ought to have known it to be +an unlikely thing--then my great concern in life was that Nelly should +not suffer. It was all a pretty bad mistake, but I am glad it has gone +no further." + +He heard something like a sigh, so faint that he could be hardly sure he +heard it. It was, in reality, Mary's thanksgiving and great relief; a +burden which had lain at her heart for months past taking wings to +itself and flying away. She had not acknowledged to herself that cold +doubt about Robin Drummond, who had seemed to come so near to her, while +all the time he belonged to another woman. She had pushed away the doubt +with loyal refusal to hear it; but it had been there all the time. Now +it was gone for ever. There was no more need of excuses or explanations +to her own heart. + +"Thank you for telling me," she said. + +They were at the house-door and the hansom had pulled up. They went up +the steps between the couchant lions and before they could knock Pat had +opened the door, as though he had been listening for them. + +"Miss Nelly is in the drawing-room, sir," he said in his privileged +Irish way; "but the master has just gone into the study." + +They went up to the drawing-room. Nelly was sitting in a chair by the +open window as Robin had left her, tearless, her unemployed hands lying +in her lap. The circle of dogs about her watching her with anxious eyes +would have been humorous in other circumstances. The lamps were lit +behind her, but there was no light on her face, except the dying light +in the pale western sky. + +"I have brought you a visitor, Nelly," Robin said. + +She looked up indifferently. Then something of interest stirred in her +face. + +"You have heard what has happened?" she said in a half-whisper. + +Mary knelt down beside her and put her arms round the little frozen +figure. + +"Why, you are cold!" she said. "Come away from the window. I am going to +ask for a fire, and then you will talk to me about it." + +Robin Drummond left them together, and went down to tell Pat to light +the fire in the drawing-room, because Miss Nelly was cold. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE ONE WOMAN + + +Mary Gray's loving, capable care and sympathy carried Nelly through the +worst days of her trouble. There were times when Mary had to hold the +girl's hands, to fight with all her might against the acute suffering +which menaced for a time her sanity and her health. The horrors into +which Nelly fell when she thought upon the things which happened in such +wars as this with cruel and cunning savages, were the worst things to +fight. There were hours in which all the fears of the world seemed to be +let loose on the unhappy child, when it seemed impossible to vanquish +those powers of darkness with one poor woman's love and prayers. During +these days Mary Gray hardly left Nelly's side. Fortunately she had +ceased to direct the Bureau, and another capable, much more +common-place, young woman had taken up her task. The official +appointment was on its way, but had not yet arrived. So she was free to +devote herself to her friend. + +The doctor whom Sir Denis called in could do little for the patient +except prescribe sleeping draughts to be taken at need. He understood +that the girl had had a shock. He suggested a change, but Nelly would +not hear of that. She must stay on in London where the first news would +come. So stay on they did, through the torrid heats of July, when the +dust was in arid drifts on the Square green gardens and blew in through +the open windows, powdering everything with its faint grey. + +"This young lady is better than my prescriptions," the doctor said +handsomely of Mary Gray. And added, "Indeed, what can we do for sorrow +except give the body a sedative?" + +"If she could face her trouble clear-eyed," Mary said, "I should feel +glad in spite of everything. It is these mists and shadows in her mind +that it is so hard to fight against." + +After a little while they were left pretty well to themselves in +Sherwood Square. The Dowager was angry with Nelly as her son had +anticipated; and, after a scene with Robin which prevented a scene with +Sir Denis, she had gone off over the sea to the Court. Everybody went +out of town: even Sherwood Square emptied itself away to the sea and the +foreign spas. Only Robin Drummond stayed in town and came constantly. +During the early days when Nelly kept the house and refused obstinately +to go out of doors, he would leave Sir Denis in charge and carry Mary +off for a walk in the Square. + +The first sign of interest that Nelly showed in other things than her +sorrow was when she indicated to her father the distant figures of Mary +and Robin moving briskly along at the farther side of the Square. + +"Do you notice anything there, papa?" she asked. + +"What do you mean, my pet?" + +Sir Denis was quite flurried at Nelly's suddenly coming out of her +brooding silence. + +"I mean Mary and Robin," she answered. "It has been borne in on me that +that is why Robin was not in love with me. Poor Robin! He would have +gone through it heroically. Never say again, papa, that he is not a true +Drummond. And I should never have known if he could have helped it that +I wasn't the only woman for him." + +"You don't mean to say, Nell, that Robin is in love with Miss Gray?" + +"That is it, papa." + +The General turned very red. For a second his impulse was towards wrath; +then he checked himself. + +"To be sure, as you didn't want him, Nell, it would be the height of +unreasonableness to expect poor Robin to be miserable for your sake. And +Miss Gray is a fine creature--a fine, handsome, clever creature. Still, +there is a great difference in their positions. It will be a blow to the +Dowager." + +"Mrs. Ilbert would not have minded." + +"God bless my soul! You don't mean to say that Miss Gray could have had +Ilbert?" + +"She has refused him, but I don't think he has given up hope." + +"God bless my soul! Why, the Ilberts are connected with half the +peerage. We Drummonds are only country squires beside them. Such a +handsome fellow too, and with such a reputation! Why should she refuse +Ilbert? Is the girl mad?" + +"Robin was first in the field. But I happen to know that Mary refused +Mr. Ilbert while yet Robin and I were engaged. What do you think of +that?" + +"Madder and madder. I don't understand women, Nell. Such a fellow as +Ilbert! Why, he might marry anybody. We must make it easy for them with +the Dowager, Nell--as easy as we can. We owe a good deal to Miss Gray." + +"Oh, she'll come round--she'll have to come round." + +"Do you suppose they understand each other, Nell?" + +"I don't think Robin has spoken. He seems to be waiting for something. I +have only noticed the last day or two. Before that I was absorbed in my +troubles--such a selfish daughter, papa." + +"My darling, we have all felt with you. It is so good to see you more +yourself, Nell." + +"Ah!" She turned away her head. "I have a feeling--there is no reason +for it at all--that good news is coming. I felt it when I awoke this +morning." + +Meanwhile Robin Drummond and Mary had the Square almost to themselves, +except for a gardener or two. All around the Square were shuttered and +silent houses. It was the most torrid of early August days, and +presently the heat drove them to a sheltered seat beneath a tree. In the +mist of heat around them the bedding-plants, the scarlet geraniums, the +lobelia and beet, made a vivid glare. Only in the forest trees, too +dense for the dust to penetrate, were there shadow and relief. + +They were talking of Nelly. + +"She will be all right now," Mary said. "She has come out of the +darkness. Even if she has his death to bear I think she will bear it. +She reproaches herself for the pain she has caused her father." + +"Poor Uncle Denis! He lives in terror about Nelly. She is all he has had +since her mother died." + +"I think he may rest easy now. Nelly is not going to die--not even of +grief. Now that she is better, Sir Robin, why don't you go away? I know +your yacht is waiting for you, and you have got the London look; you +want change." + +"I shan't go till there is news one way or another." + +"There ought to be news soon. It is hard on you waiting from day to +day." + +"I don't feel it hard. Perhaps if the good news came I might induce them +to come away with me on the yacht. It would be the best thing in the +world for them. For the matter of that, why don't you go away? You also +have the London look." + +"Oh, I shall go gladly when I may. I am really longing to be off. Do you +know what I shall hear when I go over there?--a sound I am longing for." + +"What?" + +"The rain. I close my eyes now and fancy I hear it pattering on the +leaves. Oh, the music of it! One is never long without it at home. We've +had six weeks without rain here. Can't you imagine the soft, delicious +downpour of it? The music of the rain--my ears hunger for it." + +"Oh, now indeed I see that it is time you went. You will probably have +enough of the rain." + +He spoke gloomily, and she laughed. + +"It will probably rain all the time I am there. And I shall be able to +forgive it because of its first delicious moments." + +"What are you going to do?" He asked the question almost roughly. + +"I am going to be with my father, in a mean, little two-storied house of +six rooms. At least, it is mean outwardly; but no house could be mean +inside where he lived and spread his light. He will have to be at his +work every day till he gets his fortnight's holiday in September. If I +get away in, say, a fortnight's time, I shall help my stepmother about +the house while he is at business all day; I shall have a thousand +things to do. They have only one servant; and my stepmother and sisters +do the greater part of the work. They would treat me like a queen when I +go over there, if I would let them; but I never do let them. I love +dusting, and cooking, and mending, and helping the little ones with +their lessons. Then as soon as my father is free I am going to carry +them off to a hotel I know between the mountains and the sea. It is a +big, old-fashioned house, and there is a lovely garden, full of roses +and lilies, and phlox and stocks and hollyhocks and mignonette and sweet +peas. I stayed there once with dear Lady Anne. We shall all have a +lovely time. There is a trout-stream at the end of the garden and the +trout sail by in it. There are hundreds of little streams running down +from the mountains. They make golden pools in the road and they hang +like gold and silver fringes from the crags that edge the road." + +There had been a deliberation in what she told him about the little +house. But she was mistaken if she thought to surprise him. He was +picturing her there at her domestic duties and thinking that no small or +mean surroundings could dwarf her soul's stature. Hadn't the hideous +official room that held her been heaven to him?--the singing of the +naked gas-jets the music of the spheres? + +"It will be a great change from London," he said. + +"I am going back to the old days. I have refused to see any of my fine +new friends. The Ilberts will be staying over there with the Lord +Lieutenant at the same time. I have forbidden Mr. Ilbert to call." + +Again his mood changed to one of unreasonable irritation. What had she +to do with the Ilberts, or they with her? + +"If I find myself over there I shall certainly call," he said, with an +air of doggedness. + +"Oh, very well, then, you shall," she said merrily. "_You_ won't +embarrass us, not even if we have to ask you to dinner." + +An hour or two later the good news came, brought by Mrs. Rooke in +person. Captain Langrishe could hardly yet be considered out of danger, +but he lived; he had been sent down in a litter to the nearest station, +where there were appliances and comforts and white people all about him, +outside the sights and sounds of war, beyond the danger of recapture by +the enemy. + +Nelly bore the better news well: she had been prepared for it, she said. +Seeing her so quiet, Mrs. Rooke brought out a scrap of blue ribbon cut +through and blood-stained. It was in a little case which had been hacked +through by knives. It had been sent home to her at the first when there +was no hope, when, practically, Godfrey Langrishe was a dead man. + +"It is not mine, my dear," she said to Nelly, "and I think it must be +yours. I did not dare show it to you before." + +Nelly went pale and red. Yes, it was her ribbon, which had fallen from +her hair that morning more than a year ago when Captain Langrishe had +ridden by with the regiment and the wind had carried off her ribbon. + +She received it with a trembling eagerness. + +"Yes, it is mine," she said. "I knew he had it. He showed it to me +before he went away." + +"How furious Godfrey will be when he misses it!" Mrs. Rooke said. +"Somebody will be having a bad quarter of an hour. And now, Nelly, when +are you going to be well enough to come to see my mother? She longs to +know you. She is the dearest old soul. She wanted me to bring you to her +while yet we were in suspense. But I waited for news, one way or +another." + +"I should love to go," Nelly said. + +"She has a room in a gable fitted up for you; the windows open on roses. +The place is full of sweet sounds and sights. All through this trouble +her thoughts have been with you. Will you come?" + +"If papa can spare me." + +"Then I shall ask him, and we can go down on Saturday. Won't he come for +the day? When you know my mother I am going to leave you there with her. +Poor Cyprian is off to Marienbad and I must go with him. He's dreadfully +afraid of losing his figure. A fat lawyer, he says, is the one +unpardonable thing. Will you look after my mother?" + +The General was only too glad to give his consent to the plan which had +brought the colour to Nelly's cheek and the light to her eye. After +leaving Nelly in Sussex he and Robin would go down to Southampton, get +out the yacht and cruise about the coast till Nelly felt inclined for a +longer run. + +So Mary Gray was free to go. She went out in the afternoon, leaving +Robin to look after his cousin. The General had gone off to the club +with a lighter heart than he had known for many a month. Robin had +suggested a drive, but Nelly would not hear of that. She was going to +save up her pleasure, she said, for Sussex and Saturday. She consented +to walk in the Square, where she had not been for quite a long time. He +noticed that she looked delicate and languid and his manner to her was +very tender. In fact, a new under-gardener in the Square, who was very +susceptible to romance, put quite an erroneous interpretation on Robin's +manner to his cousin, and hovered in their vicinity with eager curiosity +till he was pulled up sharply by one of his superior officers. + +"So we are all going to scatter, Nell," Drummond said, half regretfully. + +She glanced at him. + +"Poor Robin! It was too bad, keeping you in town." + +"I haven't minded it at all, I assure you, Nell. Indeed, I couldn't have +gone happily while you were in suspense." + +"Robin," she said suddenly, "what are you waiting for?" + +He started. "Waiting for?" he repeated. "What do you mean, Nell?" + +"You're not going to let Mary go without speaking to her?" Under her +light shawl her hand felt for and held the locket which contained the +blood-stained blue ribbon. "Haven't you waited long enough? I believe +she would wait an eternity for you, but don't try her. Speak now." + +"My dear Nell," he stammered, "it is only a fortnight or so from the day +that should have been our wedding day." + +"I was thinking as much. What have you had in your mind? Some foolish +Quixotic notion. What were you waiting for?" + +"To tell the truth, Nell, till you should be happy." + +"Don't take the chances of letting her go away without telling her. Do +you think I haven't known that you were in love with her all the time? +Why, that first day I saw her I said to myself in amazement, 'Where were +his eyes that he could have chosen you before her?'" + +"Nelly, how do I know that she will look at me?" + +"She will never look at anyone else. Speak now, if only in fairness to +the men who might be in love with her, who are in love with her and may +have false hopes." + +"She won't look at me, Nell." + +"She has sent Mr. Ilbert about his business, but he will not let her be. +He says that so long as she is not anybody else's she may yet be his. I +didn't want to betray him, but I must make you understand." + +Poor Ilbert! For a moment Drummond's mind was filled with a lordly +compassion towards him. Ilbert rejected! And for him! To be sure, he +knew Mary cared for him. She was not the girl to have admitted him to +the intimacy of last winter unless she cared. She had borne with him +exquisitely. She had even taken her successful rival to her breast. He +had made her suffer, the magnanimous woman. + +Suddenly he took fire. He had been a slow, dull fellow, he said to +himself, and quaked at the thought that Ilbert might have robbed him of +his jewel. Now, he felt as though he must follow her, and make her his +without even the possible mischances of a few hours of absence. + +"She comes back to dinner?" he asked. + +"She comes back to tea," his cousin answered, "and you have made me +tired, Robin. I am going to rest till tea-time." + +They went back to the house and Nelly left him in the drawing-room while +she went away to her own room. He knew that she was giving him his +opportunity and was grateful for it. How could he have been so mad as to +think of letting Mary go away with nothing settled between them? + +He walked up and down restlessly, while the dogs watched him in +amazement from their cushions. It was a topsy-turvy world in which the +dogs found themselves of late. They had almost reached the point of +being surprised at nothing. It was lucky the carpet was so faded and +shabby, for of late the General had worn a path in it with his restless +movements; and now here was his nephew behaving as though he were an +untamed creature in a cage and not a sober, serious legislator. + +At last he heard her knock, and her light foot ascending the stairs. She +looked surprised to find him alone and asked rather anxiously for Nelly. + +"You didn't let her get over-tired?" she asked, apprehensively. + +"No; we walked very little. She said she would rest till tea-time. Well, +have you packed?" + +"I have put my things together. I am going to ask to be allowed off +to-morrow. I shall sleep at the flat to-morrow night, if they can spare +me, and be off the next morning." + +"You are glad to be free?" + +"Very glad. I was also glad to stay. And you?" + +He rose up to his awkward length from the chair into which he had +dropped on hearing her knock and went close to her. + +"I shall never be free again in this world," he said. And then, with a +change of tone: "Do you suppose I am going to let you go over there a +free woman?" + +He drew her almost roughly to him. + +"I have always loved you," he said. + +"And I," she answered, "I have loved you since I was sixteen." + +"My one woman!" he cried in a rapture. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +GOLDEN DAYS + + +The time went peacefully with Nelly and the mother in the little house +among the Sussex woods. And presently, since Nelly showed no indication +of wishing to join them, and could not be spared indeed, and since Robin +was plainly ill at ease yachting up and down the coast, the General +declared his intention of going off to a grouse-moor in Scotland, rented +by an old friend, over which he had shot year after year for many years +back. + +On hearing of this sudden change of plans Robin expressed a polite +regretfulness, but the General looked at him with twinkling eyes--he and +Robin had come to be on the best of terms of late--and bade him be off +to Dublin without any confounded hypocrisy about it. + +"You've been wishing me anywhere, my lad, this last week or two except +aboard the _Seagull_," he said. "Not but what you've borne with me--oh, +yes, you've borne with me; a lad of my own couldn't have done more: and +now you've earned your reward." + +So the General went off northward for what was left of the grouse +season. Later, he was to go into Sussex for the partridge and pheasant +shooting, not so far from where Nelly was living in a state of blissful +peace, with excellent reports of Langrishe's recovery coming by every +mail. + +And be sure, the _Seagull_ spread her white wings and flew, as fast as +wind and wave could carry her, across the Irish Sea. + +Sir Robin presented himself unannounced at the little house in Wistaria +Terrace, where the youngest but two of the Miss Grays opened the door +half-way to him, and was visibly alarmed at the sound of his title. + +The little house smelt of cookery, perhaps of washing, although doors +and windows were open. But little Robin Drummond cared for that. Beyond +the demure child who had admitted him he caught sight of Mary sitting on +the shabby little grass-plot, in a wicker-chair, with a Japanese +umbrella over her head. And roses could not have been sweeter than the +atmosphere. + +The simplicity which belonged to his character came out in his dealings +with Mary's family. Walter Gray came home to find his daughter's grand +lover stretching his long figure on the grass at her feet, while the +smaller Grays, their shyness quite departed, rolled and tumbled over him +as confident as puppies. To be sure Walter Gray, with his disbelief in +distinctions of rank as otherwise than accidental, was not unduly elated +by the fine company in which he found himself. He looked hard and long +at Robin Drummond as hand met hand. Then a bright look of reassurance +came over his face. He could trust even Mary to the owner of those eyes. + +They discovered a deal in common later on as they walked, with Mary for +a third, in the long twilight and early moonlight. Walter Gray imparted +his secret thoughts as to a spiritual brother. His dreams, his +aspirations, his Utopia of a world as he would have made it, he laid +bare to Robin Drummond in his slow, easy talk, with a hand through his +arm. + +"He was born to be a great man," Robin Drummond said to Mary later, in a +generous enthusiasm, "and he shall not miss his vocation. He must have +leisure and ease. When we are married he shall have a corner of the +Court to himself, and he shall put his dreams into black and white. I +know the room; it looks into an elm-tree, and the owner of the room has +the key to the birds' secrets. There is an oriel window, and in the room +is a little old organ, yet wonderfully sweet. You shall play to him when +he lacks inspiration." + +"He could do better with the young ones about him and the mother +grumbling placidly in his ear," said Mary. + +"Then they shall have the Cottage. It is within the walls and looks to +the mountains. It is a roomy old place and has a big overgrown garden of +its own." + +"I wonder if he will take it from you?" + +"He will have to," said the lover. + +Then they went back to supper: and he was introduced to Gerald, the +young bank-clerk, whose mind was not yet cured of the fever for the sea, +who had a roving eye in his smooth young face; and Marcella, the eldest +one of the young Grays, who was a typist in the same employment as her +father. And though at first the young people were shy of Mary's lover +they were quickly at home with him. The fine breeding of Walter Gray had +passed on, to some extent, to every one of his children. + +"It will be my privilege to look after them," Robin Drummond said to +Mary. "As for the lad, he will never be a financier. He is too old for +the Navy, but why should he not learn the seaman's trade on the yacht? +He has a pining look which I don't altogether like." + +"It will be said that you are marrying all my people," Mary said +uneasily. + +"We shall not hear it said," her lover answered placidly. "We shall be +out of hearing of that sort of thing." + +When their friendship had the ratification of weeks upon it he broached +the matter of the cottage to Walter Gray. They were walking together as +they usually did of evenings; and Walter Gray walked with a stick, +leaning on him, with the other hand thrust through his arm. He had a +groping way of walking, which Drummond had noticed and ascribed to his +abstraction from the things about him. After Drummond had unfolded his +plans there was a silence, during which he watched Walter Gray +curiously. Was he going to refuse, as Mary had suggested? + +They were near a lamp on the suburban road which stood up in the boughs +of a lime, making a green flame of the tree. Walter Gray pulled up +suddenly and lifted his eyes to the light. + +"Do you notice anything?" he asked. + +Drummond peered down into the eyes. Yes, there was a slight film upon +the pupil of one. + +"Cataract," said Walter Gray cheerfully. "I shall never be fit for my +work any more, even if an operation should be successful. Marcella +knows. Good girl, she has kept her own counsel. I have not been working +for some time at the watches. Mr. Gordon, kind soul, continues my +salary. I have been learning type-writing against the days that are to +come. I confess I have a desire to write a book. I have saved nothing, +Sir Robin Drummond. How is it possible, with fifty shillings a week and +eight children? I have no pride about accepting your offer. If my scrip +is empty and yours is full I don't object to receiving from a +fellow-pilgrim what I should give if our cases were reversed." + +"Ah! that is right," said Robin Drummond. "As for cataract, in its early +stages it is easily curable. Sir George Osborne----" + +"I will do whatever you and Mary wish. But I anticipate blindness. I +shall not mind very much if I have the light within. There will be the +book to solace my age; and after a time I shall not be so helpless." + +The Dowager came round after all sooner than was expected. The +reconciliation was hastened by a letter she received from Mrs. Ilbert +congratulating her on her prospective daughter-in-law. "My poor +Maurice," she wrote. "I don't mind telling you, dear Lady Drummond, that +Maurice was head-over-ears in love with your charming and distinguished +daughter-in-law that is to be. The boy takes it very well, says that the +better man has won, which is exactly like Maurice. Since your son has +chosen a political career I congratulate him on having such a woman as +Miss Gray by his side. She will be a force in political life, so says +Maurice. And she will be the noblest inspiration. Though I am grieved +that she is to be your son's Egeria and not mine yet I offer you and Sir +Robin my heartiest congratulations. I may add that I also congratulate +the party to which your son belongs." + +Lady Drummond had rubbed her eyes over this letter. Congratulate +_her_--was it possible?--on being the prospective mother-in-law of Mary +Gray, the daughter of a man who worked for his living at repairing the +insides of watches! She, the widow of a hero, a rich woman of social +importance! Congratulate _her_ and Robin and Robin's party! And not one +word of congratulating Mary Gray! Was Caroline Ilbert mad? + +However, the thing impressed her. It worked by slow degrees into her +mind. She had listened often to such foolish heresies as that which +declared brains more important than rank or wealth. In a general way she +had not dissented. Brains were very important. Gerald had thought a good +deal of brains. If he had lived he had meditated a book on Napoleon's +Wars. She had often met writing and painting and musical people in her +friends' drawing-rooms. They had not appealed to her nor she to them. +But she had grown accustomed to their presence there and to meeting them +on an equality to which in her heart she had never subscribed. + +However, she had the wisdom to see that there was no use in holding out +against her son and to console herself with the idea that Mary was going +to be a personage, even apart from the incredible social promotion of +marrying Sir Robin Drummond. So she actually reached the point of coming +in person to Wistaria Terrace to make a formal recantation of her +opposition to the marriage, and to take Mary to her imposing, +black-bugled breast. + +To be sure the little house had almost driven her back from its +threshold. She filled the small shabby hall, she fell over the brushes +left by the general servant who had been scrubbing the oilcloth, not +expecting her ladyship; she sat uncomfortably on the green rep chairs of +the drawing-room staring at a Berlin-wool banner-screen which +represented a poodle with beads for his eyes, at the silver shavings in +the grate, and the school drawings, finished by the nuns, of the younger +Misses Gray. There were certain aspects of that drawing-room dear to +Mrs. Gray which Mary had been too tenderhearted to try to alter. + +There Mary had found her and had been moved in her innermost humorous +sense; but she had been glad to be friends with Robin's mother, and so +had done her best to advance the reconciliation. + +Lady Drummond had a surprising proposal to make. It seemed that her +friend, Lady Iniscrone, had placed at Miss Gray's disposal for the +wedding the big house on the Mall formerly occupied by Lady Anne +Hamilton. Lady Iniscrone wrote that they had heard of Miss Gray from a +friend of Lady Agatha Chenevix, and had felt interested in her progress +ever since. Of course, remembering the tie which had existed between +Lord Iniscrone's aunt and Miss Gray, Lord and Lady Iniscrone could never +be without interest in Miss Gray's progress. + +Mary smiled a smile of fine humour over the reading of the letter. At +first she was in the mood to refuse. But, being her father's daughter, +and so endowed with that sense of the comedy as well as the tragedy of +life which makes it easy to regard things and persons equably, she +consented at last. She would have preferred to be married from Wistaria +Terrace, but she had no difficulty in making a concession to Robin's +mother. + +So the wedding-breakfast was spread in the dining-room where she and +Lady Anne used to have their meals together. Mrs. Gray held a terrified +reception of the few fine folk whom Lady Drummond had declared it +necessary to ask in the long drawing-room with the three windows where +Lady Anne used to sit with little Fifine in her lap. + +Mary had wished to be married from the poor little house where she had +grown up, but on her wedding day she felt that she had done as Lady Anne +would have wished. There was nothing changed in the house: the +old-fashioned substantial furniture, the faded carpets and curtains, +were just the same. There were one or two familiar faces among the +servants. After all, Lord and Lady Iniscrone had used the house little, +since Lord Iniscrone had developed a chest affection which kept him +following the sun round the world for three-fourths of the year. + +The marriage had taken place earlier at the big, dim old church behind +which Wistaria Terrace hid itself away, and the few fine folk were not +bidden to the wedding but to the reception. A great many glittering +things were spread out on the tables in the long drawing-room. It was +surprising how many well-wishers the new Lady Drummond seemed to have in +the great world. Sir Denis Drummond had come over for the wedding, and +Nelly was a bridesmaid, with Mary's type-writing sister, Marcella. She +was a different Nelly from her of a couple of months earlier, her +delicacy gone, her old pretty bloom come back, her eyes bright as of +old. + +"Mrs. Langrishe wants me to return to her!" she confided to Mary, "but +we are going to Sherwood Square. You know, _he_ is on his way home. In a +week or two he will be on the sea. He must come to me, not find me there +waiting for him. Do you know, Mary, that though his mother and sister +have taken me to their hearts, he has not written me a line? You don't +suppose, Mary, that he could be going to keep silence _now_?" + +"Of course not," said Mary. "Seeing what you have suffered for him----" + +"He must never know that," Nelly said, with gentle dignity, "until he +has spoken. What should I do, Mary, if he never spoke? But I think +everyone would keep my secret, even his sister and mother. I asked them +not to speak of me in their letters. I am in suspense, Mary." + +"It will not be for long," the happy bride assured her. As though she +were wiser than another in knowing the way of any particular man with +any particular maid! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE INTERMEDIARY + + +Some time in December Captain Langrishe came home. + +Nelly knew the day and the hour that he was expected, but she was as +terrified of meeting him as though she had not had so much assurance of +his love for her. She knew the events of the day as though she had been +present at their happening. Cyprian Rooke's brother, a young, +distinguished doctor well on his way to Harley Street although only a +few discriminating people had found him out, had gone down to +Southampton with Mrs. Rooke and her mother to meet the invalid, who even +yet must bear traces of the terrible illness through which he had +passed. Nelly could see it all, from the moment the big boat came into +Southampton Docks till the arrival in London. Captain Langrishe was +going down to his sister's cottage in Sussex. The mother and sister, who +already claimed Nelly as their own, had been eager for her to be there +on their arrival, or to come later. But Nelly was adamant. + +"He must come to me," she said. "And I think the one thing I could not +forgive is that anyone should interfere: _anyone_, even you two whom I +dearly love. Promise me that you will not." + +They had promised her. They were women of discretion; and they felt that +now he was come back to them things might safely be left to take their +own course. To be sure, as soon as he could he would go to Nelly as to +his mate, naturally, joyfully. In an early letter, written before +Nelly's embargo, Mrs. Rooke had told him that Nelly's engagement had +been broken off. Later, she had conveyed the news that Robin Drummond +had consoled himself with rapidity, and was to be married to the Miss +Gray whose book on the conditions of women's labour among the poor had +made such a stir, and not only in political circles. Godfrey Langrishe +in his letters had not commented on these communications. + +"Let Godfrey be!" said the sister, who knew him with the thoroughness of +a nursery companion. "He will do his own wooing. He would not thank us +for doing it for him." + +All next day Nelly waited. After the very early morning she did not dare +go outdoors lest he should come in her absence. The General went off to +his club to be out of the way. At a quarter to seven he opened the door +with his latch-key and came in, more than half-expecting to find an +overcoat which did not belong to him in the hall. There was none; and he +went on to the drawing-room with a vague sense of disappointment. +Langrishe must have been and gone. + +In the drawing-room he found Nelly alone. + +"Well, papa," she said, as he came in, and offered no further remark. + +"No one been, Nell?" he asked, with a little foreboding. + +"No one." + +"Ah, well, to be sure the boat must have arrived late. They may not have +got back to town till to-day." + +The next day passed in the same way, and the next day. The fourth day +Nelly went out and did her Christmas shopping. She held her head high +now, in a spirited way which hurt her father to see, for her face was +very pale. That evening she put on a little scarlet silk dinner-jacket, +in which the General declared that she looked every inch a soldier's +daughter. But the brilliant colour only made her look paler by contrast. + +On the fifth day the General, instead of going to his club, went to see +Mrs. Rooke and fortunately found her at home. He hardly knew the little +woman, but she was a friend of Nell's and had been good to her. Besides, +he was so bent upon getting to the root of the business about Langrishe +and Nell that he felt no embarrassment on the subject of his errand. + +"My dear," he said, bowing over Mrs. Rooke's pretty hand--he had a +charming way with women--"I have come without my daughter knowing. +Perhaps she would never forgive me if she knew. Tell me: what is the +mystery about your brother? Why has he not been to see us?" + +"I am so glad you came to ask me, Sir Denis," Mrs. Rooke replied. "I was +just about to go to Nelly. Godfrey is so obstinate. The doctors cannot +say yet if he is going to be a cripple or not. His sword-arm was almost +slashed through. Jerome Rooke, my brother-in-law, says it will be all +right. On the other hand, Sir Simon Gresham shakes his head over it. +Godfrey is to see him again in a few weeks' time. He is waiting for his +verdict before he speaks to Nelly. My opinion is that if the verdict is +adverse he will never speak at all." + +"Why, God bless my soul, then!" shouted the General in his most +thunderous voice, "he must speak before! he must speak before! +Everything must be settled. They shall hear Sir Simon's verdict +together." + +Those people had been right who had called Sir Denis unworldly. Mrs. +Rooke blinked her pretty eyes before his outburst. + +"You know, of course, Sir Denis, that his profession will be closed to +him in case his arm doesn't get well. Godfrey has always felt that he +had too little to offer your daughter. But now--it will be a maimed life +if the worst happens. Both my mother and I appreciated Godfrey's +reasons. We could not say that he was not right. Poor Godfrey! I don't +know what he will do if he loses his profession. You know he was devoted +to his work." + +"I know, ma'am." The old soldier's eye lit up with a sudden spark. "In +any case, with the help of God, he will have Nell to comfort him. Your +brother's address is----" + +"You are going to him?" + +"It seems the one thing to do. I've no pride about offering my girl +where I know she is deeply loved." + +"You are a trump, General!" Mrs. Rooke said, with sparkling eyes. + +"Thank you, ma'am," the General answered, blushing like a school-boy. "I +was never one to sit with folded hands. The Lord didn't make me like it. +And I've asked His direction, ma'am; I've asked His direction humbly, +and I hope humbly that He is granting it to me." + +"Well, God speed you!" Mrs. Rooke said. "Godfrey will be good to Nelly, +Sir Denis. He has always been so trustworthy. And he has had so many +hard knocks. He deserves happiness in the end." + +"He shall have it, with the help of God." + +The General never made any forecast without the latter proviso, although +that was often said only in the silence of his heart. + +The railway journey, unlike the last made in the cause of Nelly's +happiness, went without a hitch. The day was a beautiful, bright, +sunshiny one, with clear skies overhead. The General had the carriage to +himself, so that he was able to sit with both windows open as he liked +it. He felt the winter air quite invigorating as the train rushed +through the pale golden landscape. Robins were singing in the bare +trees, which showed their every twig outlined delicately against the +pale sky. The brown coppices and hedges by which the train hurried were +bright with the scarlet of many berries. + +The General, sitting up spare and erect--he had never lolled in his +life, and held all such soft ways only suitable for ladies--contrasted +the journey with the last; and took the radiant day like a good omen. He +wished Nell could have been with him to have the roses blown in her +cheeks by the delicious fresh wind. However, he was going to bring her +home roses, pink roses; the white rose in his Nelly's cheek did not at +all please him. + +The little house was quite near the railway, a gabled, two-storied +cottage with diamond-paned windows, and creepers and roses all over its +walls. Even yet on the sheltered side there was a monthly rose or two on +the leafless bushes. The house basked in the sun; and Mrs. Langrishe's +red-and-white collie came to meet the General, wagging his tail with a +friendly greeting. + +The maid who opened the door smiled on him. She knew him for Miss +Nelly's father; and Nelly had a way of making herself beloved by +servants wherever she went, and not only because she was ready always to +empty her little purse among them. + +Mrs. Langrishe? Mrs. Langrishe was out, but was expected in to lunch. +The Captain had just come in. Would Sir Denis see him? + +Sir Denis would see the Captain. He followed the maid through the clean, +orderly little house, every inch of it shining with the perfection of +cleanliness, to the study at the back which opened on the garden. +Captain Langrishe was sitting in a chair in a dejected attitude at the +moment the General first caught sight of him. He sprang to his feet, +turning red and pale when he saw who his visitor was. + +"Well, my lad," the General said, taking the uninjured left hand in a +cordial grip. "And how do you feel?" + +Langrishe looked up at him with shy eyes. + +"To tell the truth, Sir Denis, not very cheerful. I have been, in fact, +keeping company with the blue devils pretty well since I came home. You +know----" + +"Yes, I know. We must hope for the best. But, if you can't carry a sword +any longer, why it must mean that the Master of us all has another post +for you. And now, why didn't you come to Sherwood Square?" + +"I couldn't, with this in suspense," Langrishe stammered. "It is most +kind of you to come to see me." + +"My dear boy," the General put his hand on Langrishe's shoulder, "you +must come, with this in suspense. Do you know that my girl has looked +for you day after day?" + +The young man flushed and stared at the General's kind face in +bewilderment. + +"I would rather die than cause her a minute's pain," he said, with quiet +fervour. + +"You have caused her a good many," the General said grimly. "Not +willingly, I am sure of that, or I wouldn't be here. Haven't you heard +how she suffered? Why, God bless my soul, I was afraid at one time that +I might be going to lose her; and all through you, young man--all +through you. Now I'll have no more shilly-shally. If Nell is fond of you +and you are fond of Nell----" + +"God knows how I love her!" Langrishe cried out, a glow of passion +lighting up his worn, dark face. "But you don't understand, Sir Denis. I +feel sure you don't understand. I have nothing in the world but my +sword. My uncle, Sir Peter, gave me that. He gave me nothing else. Lady +Langrishe, who nursed my uncle through an attack of the gout before he +married her, has just presented him with an heir. I have no hopes from +my uncle. If I lose my sword-arm I lose everything. I am likely to lose +my sword-arm, Sir Denis." + +"Whether you do or whether you do not is in the hands of God," the +General said. "I don't think Nell will mind very much if your sword-arm +is ineffectual or not. You've done enough for honour, anyhow. And I'm +not going to betray any more of the child's secrets. You'd better come +and hear them yourself. I'll tell you what: come on Christmas Day. Come +to lunch and bring your bag with you. I daresay you won't want to cut +your visit short?" + +"You really mean it, Sir Denis?" + +"Mean it, my lad? I've meant it for a long time. I've watched your +career, Langrishe. I know pretty well all about you. You'd never give me +credit for half the cunning I've got." The General rubbed his hands +softly together and tried to look Machiavellian, failing ludicrously in +the attempt. "There's no man I would more willingly trust my girl to. +Why, I went after you to Tilbury when you were going out--to find out +what you meant. I'll tell you about it." + +For the moment the General forgot completely how he had man[oe]uvred in +the second place to marry Nelly to Robin Drummond. In fact, he didn't +remember about it till he was going home, and then, after a momentary +shamefacedness about his unintentional disingenuousness, he decided, +like a sensible man, that there was no use talking about that now. + +Before that time, however, he had lunched with Mrs. Langrishe and her +son after a talk with the latter. Now that he had succeeded in breaking +down the lover's scruples, Godfrey Langrishe was only too anxious to +fling himself into the next train and be carried off to his love. But +the General would not have it so, though he was pleased at the young +man's impatience. + +"It wants but five days to Christmas Day," he said. "Come then. You can +spare him, ma'am?" to Mrs. Langrishe. + +"I have had to spare him for less happy things," the mother responded +cheerfully. + +There was no happier old soldier in all his Majesty's dominions than was +Sir Denis Drummond on his homeward journey. In fact, he found himself +several times displaying his gratification so evidently in his face that +people smiled and looked significantly at each other. One lady whispered +to another of the Christmas spirit. + +It was by a stern effort of his will that he composed his face as he +went up the stairs of his own house. He didn't deceive Pat, who had +admitted him--for once the General had forgotten his latch-key. Pat +reported to Bridget: + +"Sorra wan o' me knows what's come to the master; he's gone up the +stairs, and the heart of him that light that his foot is only touchin' +the ground in an odd place." + +"'Twill be somethin' good for Miss Nelly then," Bridget replied sagely. + +The General schooled his face to wear an absurdly transparent look of +gloom as he entered the drawing-room, but it was quite wasted on Nelly, +who didn't look at him. She had a screen between her face and the fire +as she sat in her fireside chair, and her little pale, hurt, haughty +profile showed up clearly against the peacock's feathers of the screen. + +The General had meant to have some play with Nell, but that forlorn look +of hers went to his heart. + +"I saw Langrishe to-day, Nell," he said. "He's coming for Christmas. We +can put him up--hey?" + +"Papa!" + +He heard the incredulously joyful half-whisper, and he felt the pang +that comes to all fathers at such a moment. Nell was not going to be +only his ever again. He had been enough for her once on a time; yet, +here she was, come to womanhood, breaking her heart for a stranger. + +"If I were you, Nell," he said gently, "I'd be seeing about my +wedding-clothes." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +NOEL! NOEL! + + +Captain Langrishe arrived only just in time for lunch on the Christmas +Day. By the time he had been shown his room and had deposited his bag +and returned to the drawing-room it was time for the luncheon-bell. + +The meeting between Nelly and himself would have seemed to outsiders a +cold one. To be sure, it took place under the General's eye. One might +have supposed that the General would have absented himself from that +lovers' meeting, but as a matter of fact he did not. Nelly's flush, the +shy, burning look which Langrishe sent her from his dark eyes, were +enough for the two principals. For the rest, all seemed to be of the +most ordinary. No one could have supposed that for the two persons +mainly concerned this was the most wonderful Christmas Day there ever +had been since the beginning. + +During lunch Langrishe talked mainly to the General. They had plenty to +talk about. The General found it necessary to apologise to Nelly for +"talking shop," an apology which was tendered in a whimsical spirit and +received in the same. Pat, waiting at table, quite forgot that he was +Sir Denis Drummond's manservant, listening to the stirring tale; and was +once again Corporal Murphy, back in "th' ould rig'mint." In fact, he +once almost forgot himself so far as to put in an eager comment, but +fortunately pulled himself up in time. He mentioned afterwards to +Bridget that the Captain's talk had nearly brought him to the point of +"joinin'" again. "Only that I remembered that at last you'd consinted to +my spakin' to Sir Denis I couldn't have held myself in, Bridget, my +jewel," he said. "But the thought of gettin' kilt before ever I'd made +you Mrs. Murphy was too much for me." + +There was considerable excitement in the servants' hall over Captain +Langrishe's presence. Pat, of course, knew all about him since he +belonged to "th' ould rig'mint"; but it was through Bridget's feminine +perspicacity that it broke on the amazed couple that it was for him Miss +Nelly had been breaking her heart all the time. + +"It 'ud do you good," said Pat, "to see the way she carries her little +sojer's jacket, and the holly berries on her pretty head like a crown." + +To be sure, the younger ones of the servants' hall were talking too, and +they even approached Pat, who outside the duties of his office was not +awesome, for the satisfaction of their curiosity. + +"Just wait," said Pat oracularly, "an' ye'll see what ye'll see." + +The speech meant nothing to Pat's own mind except that they would be all +wiser later on. However, it went nearer the mark than he had intended. + +The afternoon of Christmas Day was always the occasion for a Christmas +Tree. Everyone in the house was remembered in the distribution of +presents, even the dogs. The tree was set up in the servants' hall and +the General had never omitted to distribute the presents himself in all +the years they had been at Sherwood Square. He had mentioned the tree to +Langrishe at lunch, apologising for asking his assistance at so homely +an occasion. His eye twinkled as he said it; and rather to Nelly's +bewilderment the young man blushed like a girl. Apparently he had heard +of the Christmas Tree before, for he made no comment. + +After lunch the lovers were a little while alone. Sir Denis had his +secrecies about the Tree, gifts which had to go on at the last moment +and to be placed there by himself. When he came back to the drawing-room +he was aware from the looks of the young couple that everything had been +satisfactorily arranged between them. He looked as cheerful himself as +anyone could desire. While he put those last touches to the Tree he had +been thinking how good it was that he was going to have his children to +himself, no troublesome Dowager with her claims and exactions to come +between them. For a long time to come, anyhow, Langrishe must be off +active service; and they would all be together in the kind, spacious old +house. And presently there would be Nelly's children. Please God he +would live to deck the Tree for the delight of Nelly's children! It was +the thought of the golden heads of the little lads and lasses yet to be +dancing about the Tree that brought the dimness to his eyes, the look of +happy dreams to his face. + +The Tree was far from being a perfunctory, haphazard affair. Everything +had been thought out and planned beforehand. The servants sat in a +circle with eager, expectant faces. In front of them was a circle of +dogs. The dogs' presents were not much of a novelty. A new collar for +one, a new basket for another, a medal for the oldest of the dogs; the +possible gifts were very soon exhausted, but they made hilarity, and the +dogs barked as they received their gifts as though they understood and +enjoyed it all, as no doubt they did. + +There was a delightful sensation for the servants' hall when the gold +watch which had been hanging near the top of the tree was handed down, +and its inscription proved to be: "To Bridget Burke, on the occasion of +her marriage to Patrick Murphy, with the affection and esteem of the +master and Miss Nelly." The servants' hall broke into cheers. They had +all known that there was something between Bridget and Pat, but the +thing had hung fire so long that it might well have hung fire for ever. +Pat's present was a ten-pound note for the honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs. +Murphy were to have a fortnight together after their marriage in some +seaside place, before settling down to their old duties. Sir Denis had +made Pat the offer of a cottage in the country, but this Pat had +refused, to his master's great relief. "Sure, what would you do without +me?" he said. "I was thinking the same myself," responded the General. + +The General had it in his mind that presently, when those children came, +it might be necessary to give up Sherwood Square and live in the country +for their sakes. A little place in Ireland now, the General thought, +where there was always plenty of sport and good-fellowship. However, +that might wait. But the thought was a sweet one, to be turned over in +the old man's mind. + +Sometimes the present took odd shapes. There was a young housemaid whose +eyes were ringed about with black circles, eyes pale with much weeping. +Her mother was ill among the Essex marshes, and the only chance for her +life, said the doctors, was to get her away to a mild, bracing place for +some months. Bournemouth would do very well. Bournemouth? Why, Heaven +was much more accessible, it seemed, than Bournemouth for the poor +mother of many children. + +"Emma Brooks," said the General. "I wonder what's in this envelope for +Emma Brooks." + +Poor Emma came up, smiling a wavering smile that was on the edge of +tears. She took the envelope, peered within it, and then cried out, "Oh, +God bless you, sir!" It contained a letter of admission to a +convalescent home at Bournemouth for six months, and the money for the +expenses of getting there. "It's my mother's life, sir," cried Emma. +"You shall go home to-morrow, my girl, and take her there," said the +General. "I'll pay whatever is necessary." + +At last the Tree was stripped of nearly everything but its candles and +its bright dingle-dangles. There was a little basket at the foot of the +Tree addressed to the General, which had been moving about in a peculiar +way during the proceedings, and had been a source of much fascinated +interest to the dogs. On its being opened a fat, waddling, brindle +bull-dog puppy sidled himself out of a warm bed, and made straight for +the General's feet. A puppy was something Sir Denis never could resist, +and though there were already several dogs at Sherwood Square, all +desperately jealous at the moment and being held in by the servants, he +discovered that he had wanted a brindled bull-dog all his life. + +"But what is that," he asked, "up there at the top of the Tree? Why, I +was near forgetting it. Come here, Pat, you rascal, and hand it down to +me. It's a pretty, shining thing for my Nelly, as bright as her eyes. +Hand it down to me, Pat. I want to put it on her pretty neck." + +The gift was a beautiful flexible snake of opals in gold, with diamonds +for its eyes and its forked tongue, such a jewel as the heart of woman +could not resist. The General himself clasped the ornament on Nelly's +neck, where it lay emitting soft fires of milky rose and emerald. + +There was a little pause. The Tree seemed to be finished. The women-folk +began to clear their throats for the _Adeste Fideles_ with which the +festivity concluded. Afterwards there was to be a glass of champagne all +round. + +The pause, however, was a device of the General's to give more effect to +what was to follow. Captain Langrishe had been standing apart, his shy +and modest air commending him the more to the women who thought him so +handsome and the men who knew him for heroic; for had not Pat sung his +praises? And to be sure, the women's hearts swelled at beholding a hero +taking part in their own particular festivity of the year, a hero that +is to say with his heroism brand-new upon him and from the outside +world, so to speak. They were so accustomed to a hero for a master all +the year round, that in that particular connection they hardly thought +upon him. + +"I believe, after all," said Sir Denis, as though he were talking to +children--it was his way with women and children and dependents and +animals--"I believe there's something for my girl which she'll think +more of than anything else. It's hidden just down here at the foot of +the Tree, and might very easily be over-looked if one didn't know +beforehand that it was there. Captain Langrishe, will you give this +little packet to my Nelly? It's your gift. She'll like it from you." + +Langrishe came forward, looking radiantly happy and handsome, and +wearing withal that look of becoming shyness. He extracted from +somewhere near the roots of the Tree a white paper-covered packet, very +tiny and tied with blue ribbon, which he undid with quick, nervous +fingers. When he had laid the covering aside it revealed itself as a +little ring-case. Opening it, he took out a beautiful old-fashioned +ring, a large pearl surrounded by diamonds. He held it for a second +between his fingers; and turning round he went to Nelly's side and +taking her hand lifted it to his lips. Then he slipped the ring on to +her third finger. + +"My dear friends," said the General in an agitated voice, "I am very +happy to announce to you the engagement of my daughter to Captain +Langrishe." + +At that the cheering broke out, led by Pat. As the dogs joined in, and +even the brindle puppy added his shrill note, there was the happiest, +merriest uproar lasting over several minutes, during which the General +stood, looking proudly from the shy and smiling lovers to those +dependants whom he had really made his friends. + +And at last, when the pause came, the General spoke: + +"And now, my friends," he said, "to show that God is not forgotten in +our happiness and in our grateful hearts, we will sing the _Adeste +Fideles_." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mary Gray, by Katharine Tynan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY GRAY *** + +***** This file should be named 20201.txt or 20201.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/2/0/20201/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + +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. 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