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+Project Gutenberg's The Mistress of Shenstone, by Florence L. Barclay
+
+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: The Mistress of Shenstone
+
+Author: Florence L. Barclay
+
+Release Date: August 9, 2008 [EBook #26235]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE
+
+By
+Florence L. Barclay
+
+Author Of
+The Rosary, Etc.
+
+Grosset & Dunlap
+Publishers :: New York
+
+----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1910
+BY
+FLORENCE L. BARCLAY
+
+The Rosary                        The Following of the Star
+The Mistress of Shenstone         The Broken Halo
+Through the Postern Gate          The Wall of Partition
+The Upas Tree                     My Heart's Right There
+
+This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers
+G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London
+
+The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+To
+C. W. B.
+
+----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER                                      PAGE
+      I  On the Terrace at Shenstone            1
+     II  The Forerunner                         8
+    III  What Peter Knew                       23
+     IV  In Safe Hands                         48
+      V  Lady Ingleby's Rest-Cure              61
+     VI  At The Moorhead Inn                   77
+    VII  Mrs. O'Mara's Correspondence          82
+   VIII  In Horseshoe Cove                    105
+     IX  Jim Airth To The Rescue              111
+      X  "Yeo Ho, We Go!"                     114
+     XI  'Twixt Sea And Sky                   129
+    XII  Under The Morning Star               152
+   XIII  The Awakening                        159
+    XIV  Golden Days                          170
+     XV  "Where Is Lady Ingleby?"             190
+    XVI  Under The Beeches At Shenstone       205
+   XVII  "Surely You Knew?"                   214
+  XVIII  What Billy Had To Tell               220
+    XIX  Jim Airth Decides                    231
+     XX  A Better Point Of View               250
+    XXI  Michael Veritas                      260
+   XXII  Lord Ingleby's Wife                  271
+  XXIII  What Billy Knew                      289
+   XXIV  Mrs. Dalmain Reviews the Situation   303
+    XXV  The Test                             327
+   XXVI  "What Shall We Write?"               337
+
+----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+ON THE TERRACE AT SHENSTONE
+
+
+Three o'clock on a dank afternoon, early in November. The wintry
+sunshine, in fitful gleams, pierced the greyness of the leaden sky.
+
+The great trees in Shenstone Park stood gaunt and bare, spreading wide
+arms over the sodden grass. All nature seemed waiting the first fall of
+winter's snow, which should hide its deadness and decay under a lovely
+pall of sparkling white, beneath which a promise of fresh life to come
+might gently move and stir; and, eventually, spring forth.
+
+The Mistress of Shenstone moved slowly up and down the terrace, wrapped
+in her long cloak, listening to the soft "drip, drip" of autumn all
+around; noting the silent fall of the last dead leaves; the steely grey
+of the lake beyond; the empty flower-garden; the deserted lawn.
+
+The large stone house had a desolate appearance, most of the rooms being,
+evidently, closed; but, in one or two, cheerful log-fires blazed, casting
+a ruddy glow upon the window-panes, and sending forth a tempting promise
+of warmth and cosiness within.
+
+A tiny white toy-poodle walked the terrace with his mistress--an agitated
+little bundle of white curls; sometimes running round and round her; then
+hurrying on before, or dropping behind, only to rush on, in unexpected
+haste, at the corners; almost tripping her up, as she turned.
+
+"Peter," said Lady Ingleby, on one of these occasions, "I do wish you
+would behave in a more rational manner! Either come to heel and follow
+sedately, as a dog of your age should do; or trot on in front, in the
+gaily juvenile manner you assume when Michael takes you out for a walk;
+but, for goodness sake, don't be so fidgety; and don't run round and
+round me in this bewildering way, or I shall call for William, and send
+you in. I only wish Michael could see you!"
+
+The little animal looked up at her, pathetically, through his tumbled
+curls--a soft silky mass, which had earned for him his name of
+Shockheaded Peter. His eyes, red-rimmed from the cold wind, had that
+unseeing look, often noticeable in a very old dog. Yet there was in them,
+and in the whole pose of his tiny body, an anguish of anxiety, which
+could not have escaped a genuine dog-lover. Even Lady Ingleby became
+partially aware of it. She stooped and patted his head.
+
+"Poor little Peter," she said, more kindly. "It is horrid, for us both,
+having Michael so far away at this tiresome war. But he will come home
+before long; and we shall forget all the anxiety and loneliness. It will
+be spring again. Michael will have you properly clipped, and we will go
+to Brighton, where you enjoy trotting about, and hearing people call you
+'The British Lion.' I verily believe you consider yourself the size of
+the lions in Trafalgar Square! I cannot imagine why a great big man, such
+as Michael, is so devoted to a tiny scrap of a dog, such as you! Now, if
+you were a Great Dane, or a mighty St. Bernard--! However, Michael loves
+us both, and we both love Michael; so we must be nice to each other,
+little Peter, while he is away."
+
+Myra Ingleby smiled, drew the folds of her cloak more closely around her,
+and moved on. A small white shadow, with no wag to its tail, followed
+dejectedly behind.
+
+And the dead leaves, loosing their hold of the sapless branches,
+fluttered to the sodden turf; and the soft "drip, drip" of autumn fell
+all around.
+
+The door of the lower hall opened. A footman, bringing a telegram, came
+quickly out. His features were set, in well-trained impassivity; but his
+eyelids flickered nervously as he handed the silver salver to his
+mistress.
+
+Lady Ingleby's lovely face paled to absolute whiteness beneath her large
+beaver hat; but she took up the orange envelope with a steady hand,
+opening it with fingers which did not tremble. As she glanced at the
+signature, the colour came back to her cheeks.
+
+"From Dr. Brand," she said, with an involuntary exclamation of relief;
+and the waiting footman turned and nodded furtively toward the house. A
+maid, at a window, dropped the blind, and ran to tell the anxious
+household all was well.
+
+Meanwhile, Lady Ingleby read her telegram.
+
+  Visiting patient in your neighbourhood. Can you put me up for the
+  night? Arriving 4.30.
+
+  Deryck Brand.
+
+Lady Ingleby turned to the footman. "William," she said, "tell Mrs.
+Jarvis, Sir Deryck Brand is called to this neighbourhood, and will stay
+here to-night. They can light a fire at once in the magnolia room, and
+prepare it for him. He will be here in an hour. Send the motor to the
+station. Tell Groatley we will have tea in my sitting-room as soon as Sir
+Deryck arrives. Send down word to the Lodge to Mrs. O'Mara, that I shall
+want her up here this evening. Oh, and--by the way--mention at once at
+the Lodge that there is no further news from abroad."
+
+"Yes, m' lady," said the footman; and Myra Ingleby smiled at the
+reflection, in the lad's voice and face, of her own immense relief. He
+turned and hastened to the house; Peter, in a sudden access of misplaced
+energy, barking furiously at his heels.
+
+Lady Ingleby moved to the front of the terrace and stood beside one of
+the stone lions, close to an empty vase, which in summer had been a
+brilliant mass of scarlet geraniums. Her face was glad with expectation.
+
+"Somebody to talk to, at last!" she said. "I had begun to think I should
+have to brave dear mamma, and return to town. And Sir Deryck of all
+people! He wires from Victoria, so I conclude he sees his patient _en
+route_, or in the morning. How perfectly charming of him to give me a
+whole evening. I wonder how many people would, if they knew of it, be
+breaking the tenth commandment concerning me! ... Peter, you little
+fiend! Come here! Why the footmen, and gardeners, and postmen, do not
+kick out your few remaining teeth, passes me! You pretend to be too
+unwell to eat your dinner, and then behave like a frantic hyena, because
+poor innocent William brings me a telegram! I shall write and ask Michael
+if I may have you hanged."
+
+And, in high good humour, Lady Ingleby went into the house.
+
+But, outside, the dead leaves turned slowly, and rustled on the grass;
+while the soft "drip, drip" of autumn fell all around. The dying year was
+almost dead; and nature waited for her pall of snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE FORERUNNER
+
+
+"What it is to have somebody to talk to, at last! And _you_, of all
+people, dear Doctor! Though I still fail to understand how a patient, who
+has brought you down to these parts, can wait for your visit until
+to-morrow morning, thus giving a perfectly healthy person, such as
+myself, the inestimable privilege of your company at tea, dinner, and
+breakfast, with delightful _tete-a-tetes_ in between. All the world knows
+your minutes are golden."
+
+Thus Lady Ingleby, as she poured out the doctor's tea, and handed it to
+him.
+
+Deryck Brand placed the cup carefully on his corner of the folding
+tea-table, helped himself to thin bread-and-butter; then answered, with
+his most charming smile,
+
+"Mine would be a very dismal profession dear lady, if it precluded me
+from ever having a meal, or a conversation, or from spending a pleasant
+evening, with a perfectly healthy person. I find the surest way to live
+one's life to the full, accomplishing the maximum amount of work with the
+minimum amount of strain, is to cultivate the habit of living in the
+present; giving the whole mind to the scene, the subject, the person, of
+the moment. Therefore, with your leave, we will dismiss my patients, past
+and future; and enjoy, to the full, this unexpected _tete-a-tete_."
+
+Myra Ingleby looked at her visitor. His forty-two years sat lightly on
+him, notwithstanding the streaks of silver in the dark hair just over
+each temple. There was a youthful alertness about the tall athletic
+figure; but the lean brown face, clean shaven and reposeful, held a look
+of quiet strength and power, mingled with a keen kindliness and ready
+comprehension, which inspired trust, and drew forth confidence.
+
+The burden of a great loneliness seemed lifted from Myra's heart.
+
+"Do you always put so much salt on your bread-and-butter?" she said. "And
+how glad I am to be 'the person of the moment.' Only--until this
+mysterious 'patient in the neighbourhood' demands your attention,--you
+ought to be having a complete holiday, and I must try to forget that I am
+talking to the greatest nerve specialist of the day, and only realise the
+pleasure of entertaining so good a friend of Michael's and my own.
+Otherwise I should be tempted to consult you; for I really believe, Sir
+Deryck, for the first time in my life, I am becoming neurotic."
+
+The doctor did not need to look at his hostess. His practised eye had
+already noted the thin cheeks; the haunted look; the purple shadows
+beneath the lovely grey eyes, for which the dark fringes of black
+eyelashes were not altogether accountable. He leaned forward and looked
+into the fire.
+
+"If such is really the case," he said, "that you should be aware of it,
+is so excellent a symptom, that the condition cannot be serious. But I
+want you to remember, Lady Ingleby, that I count all my patients,
+friends; also that my friends may consider themselves at liberty, at any
+moment, to become my patients. So consult me, if I can be of any use to
+you."
+
+The doctor helped himself to more bread-and-butter, folding it with
+careful precision.
+
+Lady Ingleby held out her hand for his cup, grateful that he did not
+appear to notice the rush of unexpected tears to her eyes. She busied
+herself with the urn until she could control her voice; then said, with a
+rather tremulous laugh: "Ah, thank you! Presently--if I may--I gladly
+will consult you. Meanwhile, how do you like 'the scene of the moment'?
+Do you consider my boudoir improved? Michael made all these alterations
+before he went away. The new electric lights are a patent arrangement of
+his own. And had you seen his portrait? A wonderful likeness, isn't it?"
+
+The doctor looked around him, appreciatively.
+
+"I have been admiring the room, ever since I entered," he said. "It is
+charming." Then he raised his eyes to the picture over the
+mantelpiece:--the life-sized portrait of a tall, bearded man, with the
+high brow of the scholar and thinker; the eyes of the mystic; the
+gentle unruffled expression of the saint. He appeared old enough to be
+the father of the woman in whose boudoir his portrait was the central
+object. The artist had painted him in an old Norfolk shooting-suit,
+leather leggings, hunting-crop in hand, seated in a garden chair, beside
+a rustic table. Everything in the picture was homely, old, and
+comfortable; the creases in the suit were old friends; the ancient
+tobacco pouch on the table was worn and stained. Russet-brown
+predominated, and the highest light in the painting was the clear blue
+of those dreamy, musing eyes. They were bent upon the table, where
+sat, in an expectant attitude of adoring attention, a white toy-poodle.
+The palpable devotion between the big man and the tiny dog, the
+concentrated affection with which they looked at one another, were very
+cleverly depicted. The picture might have been called: "We two"; also
+it left an impression of a friendship in which there had been no room for
+a third. The doctor glanced, for an instant, at the lovely woman on
+the lounge, behind the silver urn, and his subconsciousness propounded the
+question: "Where did _she_ come in?" But the next moment he turned
+towards the large armchair on his right, where a small dejected mass of
+white curls lay in a huddled heap. It was impossible to distinguish
+between head and tail.
+
+"Is this the little dog?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Yes; that is Peter. But in the picture he is smart and properly clipped,
+and feeling better than he does just now. Peter and Michael are devoted
+to each other; and, when Michael is away, Peter is left in my charge. But
+I am not fond of small dogs; and I really consider Peter very much
+spoilt. Also I always feel he just tolerates me because I am Michael's
+wife, and remains with me because, where I am, there Michael will return.
+But I am quite kind to him, for Michael's sake. Only he really is a nasty
+little dog; and too old to be allowed to continue. Michael always speaks
+of him as if he were quite too good to live; and, personally, I think it
+is high time he went where all good dogs go. I cannot imagine what is the
+matter with him now. Since yesterday afternoon he has refused all his
+food, and been so restless and fidgety. He always sleeps on Michael's
+bed; and, as a rule, after I have put him there, and closed the door
+between Michael's room and mine, I hear no more of Peter, until he barks
+to be let out in the morning, and my maid takes him down-stairs. But last
+night, he whined and howled for hours. At length I got up, found
+Michael's old shooting jacket--the very one in the portrait--and laid it
+on the bed. Peter crawled into it, and cuddled down, I folded the sleeves
+around him, and he seemed content. But to-day he still refuses to eat. I
+believe he is dyspeptic, or has some other complaint, such as dogs
+develop when they are old. Honestly--don't you think--a little effective
+poison, in an attractive pill----?"
+
+"Oh, hush!" said the doctor. "Peter may not be asleep."
+
+Lady Ingleby laughed. "My dear Sir Deryck! Do you suppose animals
+understand our conversation?"
+
+"Indeed I do," replied the doctor. "And more than that, they do not
+require the medium of language. Their comprehension is telepathic. They
+read our thoughts. A nervous rider or driver can terrify a horse. Dumb
+creatures will turn away from those who think of them with dislike or
+aversion; whereas a true lover of animals can win them without a spoken
+word. The thought of love and of goodwill reaches them telepathically,
+winning instant trust and response. Also, if we take the trouble to do
+so, we can, to a great extent, arrive at their ideas, in the same way."
+
+"Extraordinary!" exclaimed Lady Ingleby. "Well, I wish you would
+thought-read what is the matter with Peter. I shall not know how to face
+Michael's home-coming, if anything goes wrong with his beloved dog."
+
+The doctor lay back in his armchair; crossed his knees the one over the
+other; rested his elbows on the arms of the chair; then let his
+finger-tips meet very exactly. Instinctively he assumed the attitude in
+which he usually sat when bending his mind intently on a patient.
+Presently he turned and looked steadily at the little white heap curled
+up in the big armchair.
+
+The room was very still.
+
+"Peter!" said the doctor, suddenly.
+
+Peter sat up at once, and peeped at the doctor, through his curls.
+
+"Poor little Peter," said the doctor, kindly.
+
+Peter moved to the edge of the chair; sat very upright, and looked
+eagerly across to where the doctor was sitting. Then he wagged his tail,
+tapping the chair with quick, anxious, little taps.
+
+"The first wag I have seen in twenty-four hours," remarked Lady Ingleby;
+but neither Deryck Brand nor Shockheaded Peter heeded the remark.
+
+The anxious eyes of the dog were gazing, with an agony of question, into
+the kind keen eyes of the man.
+
+Without moving, the doctor spoke.
+
+"_Yes_, little Peter," he said.
+
+Peter's small tufted tail ceased thumping. He sat very still for a
+moment; then quietly moved back to the middle of the chair, turned round
+and round three or four times; then lay down, dropping his head between
+his paws with one long shuddering sigh, like a little child which has
+sobbed itself to sleep.
+
+The doctor turned, and looked at Lady Ingleby.
+
+"What does that mean?" queried Myra, astonished.
+
+"Little Peter asked a question," replied Sir Deryck, gravely; "and I
+answered it."
+
+"Wonderful! Will you talk this telepathy over with Michael when he comes
+home? It would interest him."
+
+The doctor looked into the fire.
+
+"It is a big subject," he said. "When I can spare the time, I am thinking
+of writing an essay on the mental and spiritual development of animals,
+as revealed in the Bible."
+
+"Balaam's ass?" suggested Lady Ingleby, promptly.
+
+The doctor smiled. "Quite so," he said. "But Balaam's ass is neither the
+only animal in the Bible, nor the most interesting case. Have you ever
+noticed the many instances in which animals immediately obeyed God's
+commands, even when those commands ran counter to their strongest
+instincts? For instance:--the lion, who met the disobedient man of God on
+the road from Bethel. The instinct of the beast, after slaying the man,
+would have been to maul the body, drag it away into his lair, and devour
+it. But the Divine command was:--that he should slay, but not eat the
+carcass, nor tear the ass. The instinct of the ass would have been to
+flee in terror from the lion; but, undoubtedly, a Divine assurance
+overcame her natural fear; and all men who passed by beheld this
+remarkable sight:--a lion and an ass standing sentry, one on either side
+of the dead body of the man of God; and there they remained until the old
+prophet from Bethel arrived, to fetch away the body and bury it."
+
+"Extraordinary!" said Lady Ingleby. "So they did. And now one comes to
+think of it there are plenty of similar instances. The instinct of the
+serpent which Moses lifted up on a pole, would have been to come
+scriggling down, and go about biting the Israelites, instead of staying
+up on the pole, to be looked at for their healing."
+
+The doctor smiled. "Quite so," he said, "Only, we must not quote him as
+an instance; because, being made of brass, I fear he was devoid of
+instinct. Otherwise he would have been an excellent case in point. And I
+believe animals possess far more spiritual life than we suspect. Do you
+remember a passage in the Psalms which says that the lions 'seek their
+meat from God'? And, more striking still, in the same Psalm we read of
+the whole brute creation, that when God hides His face 'they are
+troubled.' Good heavens!" said the doctor, earnestly; "I wish _our_
+spiritual life always answered to these two tests:--that God's will
+should be paramount over our strongest instincts; and that any cloud
+between us and the light of His face, should cause us instant trouble of
+soul."
+
+"I like that expression 'spiritual life,'" said Lady Ingleby. "I am sure
+you mean by it what other people sometimes express so differently. Did
+you hear of the Duchess of Meldrum attending that big evangelistic
+meeting in the Albert Hall? I really don't know exactly what it was. Some
+sort of non-sectarian mission, I gather, with a preacher over from
+America; and the meetings went on for a fortnight. It would never have
+occurred to me to go to them. But the dear old duchess always likes to be
+'in the know' and to sample everything. Besides, she holds a proprietary
+stall. So she sailed into the Albert Hall one afternoon, in excellent
+time, and remained throughout the entire proceedings. She enjoyed the
+singing; thought the vast listening crowd, marvellous; was moved to tears
+by the eloquence of the preacher, and was leaving the hall more touched
+than she had been for years, and fully intending to return, bringing
+others with her, when a smug person, hovering about the entrance,
+accosted her with: 'Excuse me madam; are you a Christian?' The duchess
+raised her lorgnette in blank amazement, and looked him tip and down.
+Very likely the tears still glistened upon her proud old face. Anyway
+this impossible person appears to have considered her a promising case.
+Emboldened by her silence, he laid his hand upon her arm, and repeated
+his question: 'Madam, are you a Christian?' Then the duchess awoke to the
+situation with a vengeance. 'My good man,' she said, clearly and
+deliberately, so that all in the lobby could hear; 'I should have thought
+it would have been perfectly patent to your finely trained perceptions,
+that I am an engaging mixture of Jew, Turk, Infidel, and Heathen Chinee!
+Now, if you will kindly stand aside, I will pass to my carriage.'--And
+the duchess sampled no more evangelistic meetings!"
+
+The doctor sighed. "Tactless," he said. "Ah, the pity of it, when 'fools
+rush in where angels fear to tread!'"
+
+"People scream with laughter, when the duchess tells it," said Lady
+Ingleby; "but then she imitates the unctuous person so exactly; and she
+does not mention the tears. I have them from an eye-witness. But--as I
+was saying--I like your expression: 'spiritual life.' It really holds a
+meaning; and, though one may have to admit one does not possess any, or,
+that what one does possess is at a low ebb, yet one sees the genuine
+thing in others, and it is something to believe in, at all events.--Look
+how peacefully little Peter is sleeping. You have evidently set his mind
+at rest. That is Michael's armchair; and, therefore, Peter's. Now we will
+send away the tea-things; and then--may I become a patient?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+WHAT PETER KNEW
+
+
+"Isn't my good Groatley a curious looking person?" said Lady Ingleby, as
+the door closed behind the butler. "I call him the Gryphon, because he
+looks perpetually astonished. His eyebrows are like black horseshoes, and
+they mount higher and higher up his forehead as one's sentence proceeds.
+But he is very faithful, and knows his work, and Michael approves him. Do
+you like this portrait of Michael? Garth Dalmain stayed here a few months
+before he lost his sight, poor boy, and painted us both. I believe mine
+was practically his last portrait. It hangs in the dining-room."
+
+The doctor moved his chair opposite the fireplace, so that he could sit
+facing the picture over the mantelpiece, yet turn readily toward Lady
+Ingleby on his left. On his right, little Peter, with an occasional
+sobbing sigh, slept heavily in his absent master's chair. The log-fire
+burned brightly. The electric light, from behind amber glass, sent a
+golden glow as of sunshine through the room. The dank damp drip of autumn
+had no place in this warm luxury. The curtains were closely drawn; and
+that which is not seen, can be forgotten.
+
+The doctor glanced at the clock. The minute-hand pointed to the quarter
+before six.
+
+He lifted his eyes to the picture.
+
+"I hardly know Lord Ingleby sufficiently well to give an opinion; but I
+should say it is an excellent likeness, possessing, to a large degree,
+the peculiar quality of all Dalmain's portraits:--the more you look at
+them, the more you see in them. They are such extraordinary character
+studies. With your increased knowledge of the person, grows your
+appreciation of the cleverness of the portrait."
+
+"Yes," said Lady Ingleby, leaning forward to look intently up at the
+picture. "It often startles me as I come into the room, because I see a
+fresh expression on the face, just according to my own mood, or what I
+happen to have been doing; and I realise Michael's mind on the subject
+more readily from the portrait than from my own knowledge of him. Garth
+Dalmain was a genius!"
+
+"Now tell me," said the doctor, gently. "Why did you leave town, your
+many friends, your interests there, in order to bury yourself down here,
+during this dismal autumn weather? Surely the strain of waiting for news
+would have been less, within such easy reach of the War Office and of the
+evening papers."
+
+Lady Ingleby laughed, rather mirthlessly.
+
+"I came away, Sir Deryck, partly to escape from dear mamma; and as you do
+not know dear mamma, it is almost impossible for you to understand how
+essential it was to escape. When Michael is away, I am defenceless. Mamma
+swoops down; takes up her abode in my house; reduces my household,
+according to their sex and temperament, to rage, hysterics, or despair;
+tells unpalatable home-truths to my friends, so that all--save the
+duchess--flee discomforted. Then mamma proceeds to 'divide the spoil'! In
+other words: she lies in wait for my telegrams, and opens them herself,
+saying that if they contain _good_ news, a dutiful daughter should
+delight in at once sharing it with her; whereas, if they contain _bad_
+news, which heaven forbid!--and surely, with mamma snorting skyward,
+heaven would not venture to do otherwise!--_she_ is the right person to
+break it to me, gently. I bore it for six weeks; then fled down here,
+well knowing that not even the dear delight of bullying me would bring
+mamma to Shenstone in autumn."
+
+The doctor's face was grave. For a moment he looked silently into the
+fire. He was a man of many ideals, and foremost among them was his ideal
+of the relation which should be between parents and children; of the
+loyalty to a mother, which, even if forced to admit faults or failings,
+should tenderly shield them from the knowledge or criticism of outsiders.
+It hurt him, as a sacrilege, to hear a daughter speak thus of her mother;
+yet he knew well, from facts which were common knowledge, how little
+cause the sweet, lovable woman at his side had to consider the tie either
+a sacred or a tender one. He had come to help, not to find fault. Also,
+the minute-hand was hastening towards the hour; and the final
+instructions of the kind-hearted old Duchess of Meldrum, as she parted
+from him at the War Office, had been: "Remember! Six o'clock from London.
+I shall _insist_ upon its being kept back until then. If they make
+difficulties, I shall camp in the entrance and 'hold up' every messenger
+who attempts to pass out. But I am accustomed to have my own way with
+these good people. I should not hesitate to ring up Buckingham Palace, if
+necessary, as they very well know! So you may rest assured it will not
+leave London until six o'clock. It gives you ample time."
+
+Therefore the doctor said: "I understand. It does not come within my own
+experience; yet I think I understand. But tell me, Lady Ingleby. If bad
+news were to come, would you sooner receive it direct from the War
+Office, in the terribly crude wording which cannot be avoided in those
+telegrams; or would you rather that a friend--other than your
+mother--broke it to you, more gently?"
+
+Myra's eyes flashed. She sat up with instant animation.
+
+"Oh, I would receive it direct," she said. "It would be far less hard, if
+it were official. I should hear the roll of the drums, and see the wave
+of the flag. For England, and for Honour! A soldier's daughter, and a
+soldier's wife, should be able to stand up to anything. If they had to
+tell me Michael was in great danger, I should share his danger in
+receiving the news without flinching. If he were wounded, as I read the
+telegram I should receive a wound myself, and try to be as brave as he.
+All which came direct from the war, would unite me to Michael. But
+interfering friends, however well-meaning, would come between. If _he_
+had not been shielded from a bullet or a sword-thrust, why should _I_ be
+shielded from the knowledge of his wound?"
+
+The doctor screened his face with his hand,
+
+"I see," he said.
+
+The clock struck six.
+
+"But that was not the only reason I left town," continued Lady Ingleby,
+with evident effort. Then she flung out both hands towards him. "Oh,
+doctor! I wonder if I might tell you a thing which has been a burden on
+my heart and life for years!"
+
+There followed a tense moment of silence; but the doctor was used to such
+moments, and could usually determine during the silence, whether the
+confidence should be allowed or avoided. He turned and looked steadily at
+the lovely wistful face.
+
+It was the face of an exceedingly beautiful woman, nearing thirty. But
+the lovely eyes still held the clear candour of the eyes of a little
+child, the sweet lips quivered with quickly felt emotion, the low brow
+showed no trace of shame or sin. The doctor knew he was in the presence
+of one of the most popular hostesses, one of the most admired women, in
+the kingdom. Yet his keen professional insight revealed to him an
+arrested development; possibilities unfulfilled; a problem of inadequacy
+and consequent disappointment, to which he had not the key. But those
+outstretched hands eagerly held it towards him. Could he bring help, if
+he accepted a knowledge of the solution; or--did help come too late?
+
+"Dear Lady Ingleby," he said, quietly; "tell me anything you like; that
+is to say, anything which you feel assured Lord Ingleby would allow
+discussed with a third person."
+
+Myra leaned back among the cushions and laughed--a gay little laugh, half
+of amusement, half of relief.
+
+"Oh, Michael would not mind!" she said. "Anything Michael would mind, I
+have always told straight to himself; and they were silly little things;
+such as foolish people trying to make love to me; or a foreign prince,
+with moustaches like the German Emperor's, offering to shoot Michael, if
+I would promise to marry him when his period of consequent imprisonment
+was over. I cut the idiots who had presumed to make love to me, ever
+after; and assured the foreign prince, I should undoubtedly kill him
+myself, if he hurt a hair of Michael's head! No, dear doctor. My life is
+clear of all that sort of complication. My trouble is a harder one,
+involving one's whole life-problem. And that problem is incompetence and
+inadequacy--not towards the world, I should not care a rap for that; but
+towards the one to whom I owe most: towards Michael,--my husband."
+
+The doctor moved uneasily in his chair, and glanced at the clock.
+
+"Oh, hush!" he said. "Do not----"
+
+"No!" cried Myra. "You must not stop me. Let me at last have the relief
+of speech! My friend, I am twenty-eight; I have had ten years of married
+life; yet I do not believe I have ever really grown up! In heart and
+brain I am an undeveloped child, and I know it; and, worse still, Michael
+knows it, and--_Michael does not mind_. Listen! It dates back to years
+ago. Mamma never allowed any of her daughters to grow up. We were
+permitted no individuality of our own, no opinions, no independence. All
+that was required of us, was to 'do her behests, and follow in her
+train.' Forgive the misquotation. We were always children in mamma's
+eyes. We grew tall; we grew good-looking; but we never grew up. We
+remained children, to be snubbed, domineered over, and bullied. My
+sisters, who were good children, had plenty of jam and cake; and,
+eventually, husbands after mamma's own heart were found for them. Perhaps
+you know how those marriages have turned out?"
+
+Lady Ingleby paused, and the doctor made an almost imperceptible sign of
+assent. One of the ladies in question, a most unhappy woman, was under
+treatment in his Mental Sanatorium at that very moment; but he doubted
+whether Lady Ingleby knew it.
+
+"I was the black sheep," continued Myra, finding no remark forthcoming.
+"Nothing I did was ever right; everything I did was always wrong. When
+Michael met me I was nearly eighteen, the height I am now, but in the
+nursery, as regards mental development or knowledge of the world; and, as
+regards character, a most unhappy, utterly reckless, little child.
+Michael's love, when at last I realised it, was wonderful to me.
+Tenderness, appreciation, consideration, were experiences so novel that
+they would have turned my head, had not the elation they produced been
+counterbalanced by a gratitude which was overwhelming; and a terror of
+being handed back to mamma, which would have made me agree to anything.
+Years later, Michael told me that what first attracted him to me was a
+look in my eyes just like the look in those of a favourite spaniel of
+his, who was always in trouble with everyone else, and had just been
+accidentally shot, by a keeper. Michael told me this himself; and really
+thought I should be pleased! Somehow it gave me the key to my standing
+with him--just that of a very tenderly-loved pet dog. No words can say
+how good he has always been to me. If I lost him, I should lose my
+all--everything which makes home, home; and life a safe, and certain,
+thing. But if _he_ lost little Peter, it would be a more real loss to him
+than if he lost me; because Peter is more intelligent for his size, and
+really more of an actual companion to Michael, than I am. Many a time,
+when he has passed through my room on the way to his, with Peter tucked
+securely under his arm; and saying, 'Good-night, my dear,' to me, has
+gone in and shut the door, I have felt I could slay little Peter, because
+he had the better place, and because he looked at me through his curls,
+as he was carried away, as if to say: '_You_ are out of it!' Yet I knew I
+had all I deserved; and Michael's kindness and goodness and patience were
+beyond words. Only--only--ah, _can_ you understand? I would sooner he had
+found fault and scolded; I would sooner have been shaken and called a
+fool, than smiled at, and left alone. I was in the nursery when he
+married me; I have been in the school-room ever since, trying to learn
+life's lessons, alone, without a teacher. Nothing has helped me to grow
+up. Michael has always told me I am perfect, and everything I do is
+perfect, and he does not want me different. But I have never really
+shared his life and interests. If I make idiotic mistakes he does not
+correct me. I have to find them out, when I repeat them before others.
+When I made that silly blunder about the brazen serpent, you so kindly
+put me right. Michael would have smiled and let it pass as not worth
+correcting; then I should have repeated it before a roomful of people,
+and wondered why they looked amused! Ah, but what do I care for people,
+or the world! It is my true place beside Michael I want to win. I want to
+'grow up unto him in all things.' Yes, I know that is a text. I am famous
+for misquotations, or rather, misapplications. But it expresses my
+meaning--as the duchess remarks, when _she_ has said something mild under
+provocation, and her parrot swears!--And now tell me, dear wise kind
+doctor; you, who have been the lifelong friend of that grand creature,
+Jane Dalmain; you, who have done so much for dozens of women I know; tell
+me how I can cease to be inadequate towards my husband."
+
+The passionate flow of words ceased suddenly. Lady Ingleby leaned back
+against the cushions.
+
+Peter sighed in his sleep.
+
+A clock in the hall chimed the quarter after six.
+
+The doctor looked steadily into the fire. He seemed to find speech
+difficult.
+
+At last he said, in a voice which shook slightly: "Dear Lady Ingleby, he
+did not--he does not--think you so."
+
+"No, no!" she cried, sitting forward again. "He thinks of me nothing but
+what is kind and right. But he never expected me to be more than a nice,
+affectionate, good-looking dog; and I--I have not known how to be better
+than his expectations. But, although he is so patient, he sometimes grows
+unutterably tired of being with me. All other pet creatures are dumb; but
+I love talking, and I constantly say silly things, which do not _sound_
+silly, until I have said them. He goes off to Norway, fishing; to the
+Engadine, mountain-climbing; to this horrid war, risking his precious
+life. Anywhere to get away alone; anywhere to----"
+
+"Hush," said the doctor, and laid a firm brown hand, for a moment, on the
+white fluttering fingers. "You are overwrought by the suspense of these
+past weeks. You know perfectly well that Lord Ingleby volunteered for
+this border war because he was so keen on experimenting with his new
+explosives, and on trying these ideas for using electricity in modern
+warfare, at which he has worked so long."
+
+"Oh, yes, I know," said Myra, smiling wistfully. "Tiresome things, which
+keep him hours in his laboratory. And he has some very clever plan for
+long distance signalling from fort to fort--hieroglyphics in the sky,
+isn't it? you know what I mean. But the fact that he volunteered into all
+this danger, merely to do experimenting, makes it harder to bear than if
+he had been at the head of his old regiment, and gone at the imperative
+call of duty. However--nothing matters so long as he comes home safely.
+And now you--you, Sir Deryck--must help me to become a real helpmeet to
+Michael. Tell me how you helped--oh, very well, we will not mention
+names. But give me wise advice. Give me hope; give me courage. Make me
+strong."
+
+The doctor looked at the clock; and, even as he looked, the chimes in the
+hall rang out the half-hour.
+
+"You have not yet told me," he said, speaking very slowly, as if
+listening for some other sound; "you have not yet told me, your second
+reason for leaving town."
+
+"Ah," said Lady Ingleby, and her voice held a deeper, older, tone--a note
+bordering on tragedy. "Ah! I left town, Sir Deryck, because other people
+were teaching me love-lessons, and I did not want to learn them apart
+from Michael. I stayed with Jane Dalmain and her blind husband, before
+they went back to Gleneesh. You remember? They were in town for the
+production of his symphony. I saw that ideal wedded life, and I realised
+something of what a perfect mating of souls could mean. And then--well,
+there were others; people who did not understand how wholly I am
+Michael's; nothing actually wrong; but not so fresh and youthful as
+Billy's innocent adoration; and I feared I should accidentally learn what
+only Michael must teach. Therefore I fled away! Oh, doctor; if I ever
+learned from another man, that which I have failed to learn from my own
+husband, I should lie at Michael's feet and implore him to kill me!"
+
+The doctor looked up at the portrait over the mantelpiece. The calm
+passionless face smiled blandly at the tiny dog. One sensitive hand,
+white and delicate as a woman's, was raised, forefinger uplifted, gently
+holding the attention of the little animal's eager eyes. The magic skill
+of the artist supplied the doctor with the key to the problem. A
+_woman_--as mate, as wife, as part of himself, was not a necessity in the
+life of this thinker, inventor, scholar, saint. He could appreciate dumb
+devotion; he was capable of unlimited kindness, leniency, patience,
+toleration. But woman and dog alike, remained outside the citadel of his
+inner self. Had not her eyes resembled those of a favourite spaniel, he
+would very probably not have wedded the lovely woman who, now, during ten
+years had borne his name; and even then he might not have done so, had
+not the tyranny of her mother, awakening his instinct of protection
+towards the weak and oppressed, aroused in him a determination to
+withstand that tyranny, and to carry her off triumphantly to freedom.
+
+The longer the doctor looked, the more persistently the picture said; "We
+two; and where does _she_ come in?"--Righteous wrath arose in the heart
+of Deryck Brand; for his ideal as to man's worship of woman was a high
+one. As he thought of the closed door; of the lonely wife, humbly jealous
+of a toy-poodle, yet blaming herself only, for her loneliness, his jaw
+set, and his brow darkened. And all the while he listened for a sound
+from the outer world which must soon come.
+
+Lady Ingleby noticed his intent gaze, and, leaning forward, also looked
+up at the picture. The firelight shone on her lovely face, and on the
+gleaming softness of her hair. Her lips parted in a tender smile; a pure
+radiance shone from her eyes.
+
+"Ah, he _is_ so good!" she said. "In all the years, he has never once
+spoken harshly to me. And see how lovingly he looks at Peter, who really
+is a most unattractive little dog. Did you ever hear the duchess's _bon
+mot_ about Michael? He and I once stayed together at Overdene; but she
+did not ask us again until he was abroad, fishing in Norway; so of course
+I went by myself. The duchess always does those things frankly, and
+explains them. Therefore on this occasion she said: 'My dear, I enjoy a
+visit from you; but you must only come, when you can come alone. I will
+never undertake again, to live up to your good Michael. It really was a
+case of St. Michael and All Angels. _He_ was St. Michael, and _we_ had to
+be all angels!' Wasn't it like the duchess; and a beautiful testimony to
+Michael's consistent goodness? Oh, I wish you knew him better. And, for
+the matter of that, I wish I knew him better! But after all I _am_ his
+wife. Nothing can rob me of that. And don't you think--when Michael comes
+home this time--somehow, all will be different; better than ever
+before?"
+
+The hall clock chimed three-quarters after the hour.
+
+The clang of a bell resounded through the silent house.
+
+Peter sat up, and barked once, sharply.
+
+The doctor rose and stood with his back to the fire, facing the door.
+
+Myra's question remained unanswered.
+
+Hurried steps approached.
+
+A footman entered, with a telegram for Lady Ingleby.
+
+She took it with calm fingers, and without the usual sinking of the heart
+from sudden apprehension. Her mind was full of the conversation of the
+moment, and the doctor's presence made her feel so strong and safe; so
+sure of no approach of evil tidings.
+
+She did not hear Sir Deryck's quiet voice say to the man: "You need not
+wait."
+
+As the door closed, the doctor turned away, and stood looking into the
+fire.
+
+The room was very still.
+
+Lady Ingleby opened her telegram, unfolded it slowly, and read it through
+twice.
+
+Afterwards she sat on, in such absolute silence that, at length, the
+doctor turned and looked at her.
+
+She met his eyes, quietly.
+
+"Sir Deryck," she said, "it is from the War Office. They tell me Michael
+has been killed. Do you think it is true?"
+
+She handed him the telegram. Taking it from her, he read it in silence.
+Then: "Dear Lady Ingleby," he said, very gently, "I fear there is no
+doubt. He has given his life for his country. You will be as brave in
+giving him, as he would wish his wife to be."
+
+Myra smiled; but the doctor saw her face slowly whiten.
+
+"Yes," she said; "oh, yes! I will not fail him. I will be adequate--at
+last." Then, as if a sudden thought had struck her: "Did you know of
+this? Is it why you came?"
+
+"Yes," said the doctor, slowly. "The duchess sent me. She was at the War
+Office this morning when the news came in, inquiring for Ronald Ingram,
+who has been wounded, and is down with fever. She telephoned for me, and
+insisted on the telegram being kept back until six o'clock this evening,
+in order to give me time to get here, and to break the news to you first,
+if it seemed well."
+
+Myra gazed at him, wide-eyed. "And you let me say all that, about Michael
+and myself?"
+
+"Dear lady," said the doctor, and few had ever heard that deep firm
+voice, so nearly tremulous, "I could not stop you. But you did not say
+one word which was not absolutely loving and loyal."
+
+"How could I have?" queried Myra, her face growing whiter, and her eyes
+wider and more bright. "I have never had a thought which was not loyal
+and loving."
+
+"I know," said the doctor. "Poor brave heart,--I know."
+
+Myra took up the telegram, and read it again.
+
+"Killed," she said; "_killed_. I wish I knew how."
+
+"The duchess is ready to come to you immediately, if you would like to
+have her," suggested the doctor.
+
+"No," said Myra, smiling vaguely. "No; I think not. Not unless dear mamma
+comes. If that happens we must wire for the duchess, because now--now
+Michael is away--she is the only person who can cope with mamma. But
+please not, otherwise; because--well, you see,--she said she could not
+live up to Michael; and it does not sound funny now."
+
+"Is there anybody you would wish sent for at once?" inquired the doctor,
+wondering how much larger and brighter those big grey eyes could grow;
+and whether any living face had ever been so absolutely colourless.
+
+"Anybody I should wish sent for at once? I don't know. Oh, yes--there is
+one person; if she could come. Jane--you know? Jane Dalmain. I always say
+she is like the bass of a tune; so solid, and satisfactory, and beneath
+one. Nothing very bad could happen, if Jane were there. But of course
+this _has_ happened; hasn't it?"
+
+The doctor sat down.
+
+"I wired to Gleneesh this morning," he said. "Jane will be here early
+to-morrow."
+
+"Then lots of people knew before I did?" said Lady Ingleby.
+
+The doctor did not answer.
+
+She rose, and stood looking down into the fire; her tall graceful figure
+drawn up to its full height, her back to the doctor, whose watchful eyes
+never left her for an instant.
+
+Suddenly she looked across to Lord Ingleby's chair.
+
+"And I believe _Peter_ knew," she said, in a loud, high-pitched voice.
+"Good heavens! Peter knew; and refused his food because Michael was dead.
+And _I_ said he had dyspepsia! Michael, oh Michael! Your wife didn't know
+you were dead; but your dog knew! Oh Michael, Michael! Little Peter
+knew!"
+
+She lifted her arms toward the picture of the big man and the tiny dog.
+
+Then she swayed backward.
+
+The doctor caught her, as she fell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+IN SAFE HANDS
+
+
+All through the night Lady Ingleby lay gazing before her, with bright
+unseeing eyes.
+
+The quiet woman from the Lodge, who had been, before her own marriage, a
+devoted maid-companion to Lady Ingleby, arrived in speechless sorrow, and
+helped the doctor tenderly with all there was to do.
+
+But when consciousness returned, and realisation, they were accompanied
+by no natural expressions of grief; simply a settled stony silence; the
+white set face; the bright unseeing eyes.
+
+Margaret O'Mara knelt, and wept, and prayed, kissing the folded hands
+upon the silken quilt. But Lady Ingleby merely smiled vaguely; and once
+she said: "Hush, my dear Maggie. At last we will be adequate."
+
+Several times during the night the doctor came, sitting silently beside
+the bed, with watchful eyes and quiet touch. Myra scarcely noticed him,
+and again he wondered how much larger the big grey eyes would grow, in
+the pale setting of that lovely face.
+
+Once he signed to the other watcher to follow him into the corridor.
+Closing the door, he turned and faced her. He liked this quiet woman, in
+her simple black merino gown, linen collar and cuffs, and neatly braided
+hair. There was an air of refinement and gentle self-control about her,
+which pleased the doctor.
+
+"Mrs. O'Mara," he said; "she must weep, and she must sleep."
+
+"She does not weep easily, sir," replied Margaret O'Mara, "and I have
+known her to lie widely awake throughout an entire night with less cause
+for sorrow than this."
+
+"Ah," said the doctor; and he looked keenly at the woman from the Lodge.
+"I wonder what else you have known?" he thought. But he did not voice the
+conjecture. Deryck Brand rarely asked questions of a third person. His
+patients never had to find out that his knowledge of them came through
+the gossip or the breach of confidence of others.
+
+At last he could allow that fixed unseeing gaze no longer. He decided to
+do what was necessary, with a quiet nod, in response to Margaret O'Mara's
+imploring look. He turned back the loose sleeve of the silk nightdress,
+one firm hand grasped the soft arm beneath it; the other passed over it
+for a moment with swift skilful pressure. Even Margaret's anxious eyes
+saw nothing more; and afterwards Myra often wondered what could have
+caused that tiny scar upon the whiteness of her arm.
+
+Before long she was quietly asleep. The doctor stood looking down upon
+her. There was tragedy to him in this perfect loveliness. Now the clear
+candour of the grey eyes was veiled, the childlike look was no longer
+there. It was the face of a woman--and of a woman who had lived, and who
+had suffered.
+
+Watching it, the doctor reviewed the history of those ten years of wedded
+life; piecing together that which she herself had told him; his own
+shrewd surmisings; and facts, which were common knowledge.
+
+So much for the past. The present, for a few hours at least, was merciful
+oblivion. What would the future bring? She had bravely and faithfully put
+from her all temptation to learn the glory of life, and the completeness
+of love, from any save from her own husband. And he had failed to teach.
+Can the deaf teach harmony, or the blind reveal the beauties of blended
+colour?
+
+But the future held no such limitations. The "garden enclosed" was no
+longer barred against all others by an owner who ignored its fragrance.
+The gate would be on the latch, though all unconscious until an eager
+hand pressed it, that its bolts and bars were gone, and it dare swing
+open wide.
+
+"Ah," mused the doctor. "Will the right man pass by? Youth teaches youth;
+but is there a man amongst us strong enough, and true enough, and pure
+enough, to teach this woman, nearing thirty, lessons which should have
+been learned during the golden days of girlhood. Surely somewhere on this
+earth the One Man walks, and works, and waits, to whom she is to be the
+One Woman? God send him her way, in the fulness of time."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+And in that very hour--while at last Myra slept, and the doctor watched,
+and mused, and wondered--in that very hour, under an Eastern sky, a
+strong man, sick of life, worn and disillusioned, fighting a deadly
+fever, in the sultry atmosphere of a soldier's tent, cried out in
+bitterness of soul: "O God, let me die!" Then added the "never-the-less"
+which always qualifies a brave soul's prayer for immunity from pain:
+"Unless--unless, O God, there be still some work left on this earth which
+only I can do."
+
+And the doctor had just said: "Send him her way, O God, in the fulness of
+time."
+
+The two prayers reached the Throne of Omniscience together.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Deryck Brand, looking up, saw the quiet eyes of Margaret O'Mara gazing
+gratefully at him, across the bed. "Thank you," she whispered.
+
+He smiled. "Never to be done lightly, Mrs. O'Mara," he said. "Everything
+else should be tried first. But there are exceptions to the strictest
+rules, and it is fatal weakness to hesitate when confronted by the
+exception. Send for me, when she wakes; and, meanwhile, lie down on that
+couch yourself and have some sleep. You are worn out."
+
+The doctor turned away; but not before he had caught the sudden look of
+dumb anguish which leaped into those quiet eyes. He reached the door;
+paused a moment; then came back.
+
+"Mrs. O'Mara," he said, with a hand upon her shoulder, "you have a sorrow
+of your own?"
+
+She drew away from him, in terror. "Oh, hush!" she whispered. "Don't ask!
+Don't unnerve me, sir. Help me to think of her, only." Then, more calmly:
+"But of course I shall think of none but her, while she needs me.
+Only--only, sir--as you are so kind--" she drew from her bosom a crumpled
+telegram, and handed it to the doctor. "Mine came at the same time as
+hers," she said, simply.
+
+The doctor unfolded the War Office message.
+
+  Regret to report Sergeant O'Mara killed in assault on Targai
+  yesterday.
+
+"He was a good husband," said Margaret O'Mara, simply; "and we were very
+happy."
+
+The doctor held out his hand. "I am proud to have met you, Mrs. O'Mara.
+This seems to me the bravest thing I have ever known a woman do."
+
+She smiled through her tears. "Thank you, sir," she said, tremulously.
+"But it is easier to bear my own sorrow, when I have work to do for
+her."
+
+"God Himself comfort you, my friend," said Deryck Brand, and it was all
+he could trust his voice to say; nor was he ashamed that he had to fumble
+blindly for the handle of the door.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The doctor had finished breakfast, and was asking Groatley for a
+time-table, when word reached him that Lady Ingleby was awake. He went
+upstairs immediately.
+
+Myra was sitting up in bed, propped with pillows. Her cheeks were
+flushed; her eyes bright and hard.
+
+She held out her hand to the doctor.
+
+"How good you have been," she said, speaking very fast, in a high
+unnatural voice: "I am afraid I have given you a great deal of trouble. I
+don't remember much about last night, excepting that they said Michael
+had been killed. Has Michael really been killed, do you think? And will
+they give me details? Surely I have a right to know details. Nothing can
+alter the fact that I was Michael's wife, can it? Do go to breakfast,
+Maggie. There is nothing gained by standing there, smiling, and saying
+you do not want any breakfast. Everybody wants breakfast at nine o'clock
+in the morning. I should want breakfast, if Michael had not been killed.
+Tell her she ought to have breakfast, Sir Deryck. I believe she has been
+up all night. It is such a comfort to have her. She is so brave and
+bright; and so full of sympathy."
+
+"She is very brave," said the doctor; "and you are right as to her need
+of breakfast. Go down-stairs for a little while, Mrs. O'Mara. I will stay
+with Lady Ingleby."
+
+She moved obediently to the door; but Sir Deryck reached it before her.
+And the famous London specialist held the door open for the sergeant's
+young widow, with an air of deference such as he would hardly have
+bestowed upon a queen.
+
+Then he came back to Lady Ingleby. His train left in three-quarters of an
+hour. But his task here was not finished. She had slept; but before he
+dare leave her, she must weep.
+
+"Where is Peter?" inquired the excited voice from the bed. "He always
+barks to be let out, in the morning; but I have heard nothing of him
+yet."
+
+"He was exhausted last night, poor little chap," said the doctor. "He
+could scarcely walk. I carried him up, myself; and put him on the bed in
+the next room. The coat was still there, I wrapped him in it. He licked
+my hand, and lay down, content."
+
+"I want to see him," said Lady Ingleby. "Michael loved him. He seems all
+I have left of Michael."
+
+"I will fetch him," said the doctor.
+
+He went into the adjoining room, leaving the door ajar. Myra heard him
+reach the bed. Then followed a long silence.
+
+"What is it?" she called at last. "Is he not there? Why are you so
+long?"
+
+Then the doctor came back. He carried something in his arms, wrapped in
+the old shooting jacket.
+
+"Dear Lady Ingleby," he said, "little Peter is dead. He must have died
+during the night, in his sleep. He was lying just as I left him, curled
+up in the coat; but he is quite cold and stiff. Faithful little heart!"
+said the doctor, with emotion, holding his burden, tenderly.
+
+"What!" cried Myra, with both arms outstretched. "Peter has died, because
+Michael is dead; and I--I have not even shed a tear!" She fell back among
+the pillows in a paroxysm of weeping.
+
+The doctor stood by, silently; uncertain what to do. Myra's sobs grew
+more violent, shaking the bed with their convulsive force. Then she began
+to shriek inarticulately about Michael and Peter, and to sob again, with
+renewed violence.
+
+At that moment the doctor heard the horn of a motor-car in the avenue;
+then, almost immediately, the clang of the bell, and the sounds of an
+arrival below. A look of immense relief came into his face. He went to
+the top of the great staircase, and looked over.
+
+The Honourable Mrs. Dalmain had arrived. The doctor saw her tall figure,
+in a dark green travelling coat, walk rapidly across the hall.
+
+"Jane!" he said. "Jeanette! Ah, I knew you would not fail us! Come
+straight up. You have arrived at the right moment."
+
+Jane looked up, and saw the doctor standing at the top of the stairs;
+something wrapped in an old coat, held carefully in his arms. She threw
+him one smile of greeting and assurance; then, wasting no time in words,
+rapidly pulled off her coat, hat, and fur gloves, flinging them in quick
+succession to the astonished butler. The doctor only waited to see her
+actually mounting the stairs. Then, passing through Lady Ingleby's room,
+he laid Peter's little body back on his dead master's bed, still wrapped
+in the old tweed coat.
+
+As he stepped back into Lady Ingleby's room, closing the door between, he
+saw Jane Dalmain kneel down beside the bed, and gather the weeping form
+into her arms, with a gesture of immense protective tenderness.
+
+"Oh Jane," sobbed Lady Ingleby, as she hid her face in the sweet comfort
+of that generous bosom; "Oh Jane! Michael has been killed! And little
+Peter died, because Michael was dead. Little Peter _died_, and _I_ had
+not even shed a tear!"
+
+The doctor passed quickly out, closing the door behind him. He did not
+wait to hear the answer. He knew it would be wise, and kind, and right.
+He left his patient in safe hands. Jane was there, at last. All would be
+well.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+LADY INGLEBY'S REST-CURE
+
+
+From the moment when the express for Cornwall had slowly but irrevocably
+commenced to glide away from the Paddington platform; when she had looked
+her last upon Margaret O'Mara's anxious devoted face, softly framed in
+her simple widow's bonnet; when she had realised that her somewhat
+original rest-cure had really safely commenced, and that she was leaving,
+not only her worries, but her very identity behind her--Lady Ingleby had
+leaned back with closed eyes in a corner of her reserved compartment, and
+given herself up to quiet retrospection.
+
+The face, in repose, was sad--a quiet sadness, as of regret which held no
+bitterness. The cheek, upon which the dark fringe of lashes rested, was
+white and thin having lost the tint and contour of perfect health. But,
+every now and then, during those hours of retrospection, the wistful
+droop of the sweet expressive mouth curved into a smile, and a dimple
+peeped out unexpectedly, giving a look of youthfulness to the tired
+face.
+
+When London and, its suburbs were completely left behind, and the summer
+sunshine blazed through the window from the clear blue of a radiant June
+sky, Lady Ingleby leaned forward, watching the rapid unfolding of country
+lanes and hedges; wide commons, golden with gorse; fir woods, carpeted
+with blue-bells; mossy banks, overhung with wild roses, honeysuckle, and
+traveller's-joy; the indescribable greenness and soft fragrance of
+England in early summer; and, as she watched, a responsive light shone in
+her sweet grey eyes. The drear sadness of autumn, the deadness of winter,
+the chill uncertainty of spring--all these were over and gone. "Flowers
+appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come," murmurs
+the lover of Canticles; and in Myra Ingleby's sad heart there blossomed
+timidly, flowers of hope; vague promise of future joy, which life might
+yet hold in store. A blackbird in the hawthorn, trilled gaily; and Myra
+softly sang, to an air of Garth Dalmain's, the "Blackbird's Song."
+
+               "Wake, wake,
+               Sad heart!
+               Rise up, and sing!
+               On God's fair earth, 'mid blossoms blue.
+               Fresh hope must ever spring.
+               There is no room for sad despair,
+               When heaven's love is everywhere."
+
+Then, as the train sped onward through Wiltshire, Somerset, and Devon,
+Lady Ingleby felt the mantle of her despondence slipping from her, and
+reviewed the past, much as a prisoner might glance back into his dark
+narrow cell, from the sunlight of the open door, as he stood at last on
+the threshold of liberty.
+
+Seven months had gone by since, on that chill November evening, the news
+of Lord Ingleby's death had reached Shenstone. The happenings of the
+weeks which followed, now seemed vague and dreamlike to Myra, just a few
+events standing out clearly from the dim blur of misery. She remembered
+the reliable strength of the doctor; the unselfish devotion of Margaret
+O'Mara; the unspeakable comfort of Jane's wholesome understanding
+tenderness. Then the dreaded arrival of her mother; followed,
+immediately, according to promise, by the protective advent of Georgina,
+Duchess of Meldrum; after which, tragedy and comedy walked hand in hand;
+and the silence of mourning was enlivened by the "Hoity-toity!" of the
+duchess, and the indignant sniffs of Mrs. Coller-Cray.
+
+Later on, details of Lord Ingleby's death came to hand, and his widow had
+to learn that he had fallen--at the attempt upon Targai, it is true--but
+the victim of an accident; losing his life, not at the hands of the
+savage enemy, but through the unfortunate blunder of a comrade. Myra
+never very clearly grasped the details:--a wall to be undermined; his own
+patent and fearful explosive; the grim enthusiasm with which he insisted
+upon placing it himself, arranging to have it fired by his patent
+electrical plan. Then the mistaking of a signal; the fatal pressing of a
+button five minutes too soon; an electric flash in the mine, a terrific
+explosion, and instant death to the man whose skill and courage had made
+the gap through which crowds of cheering British soldiers, bursting from
+the silent darkness, dashed to expectant victory.
+
+When full details reached the War Office, a Very Great Personage called
+at her house in Park Lane personally to explain to Lady Ingleby the
+necessity for the hushing up of some of these greatly-to-be-deplored
+facts. The whole unfortunate occurrence had largely partaken of the
+nature of an experiment. The explosive, the new method of signalling, the
+portable electric plant--all these were being used by Lord Ingleby and
+the young officers who assisted him, more or less experimentally and
+unofficially. The man whose unfortunate mistake caused the accident had
+an important career before him. His name must not be allowed to
+transpire. It would be unfair that a future of great promise should be
+blighted by what was an obvious accident. The few to whom the name was
+known had been immediately pledged to secrecy. Of course it would be
+confidentially given to Lady Ingleby if she really desired to hear it,
+but----
+
+Then Myra took a very characteristic line. She sat up with instant
+decision; her pale face flushed, and her large pathetic grey eyes shone
+with sudden brightness.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," she said, "for interposing; but I never wish to know
+that name. My husband would have been the first to desire that it should
+not be told. And, personally, I should be sorry that there should be any
+man on earth whose hand I could not bring myself to touch in friendship.
+The hand that widowed me, did so without intention. Let it remain always
+to me an abstract instrument of the will of Providence. I shall never
+even try to guess to which of Michael's comrades that hand belonged."
+
+Lady Ingleby was honest in making this decision; and the Very Great
+Personage stepped into his brougham, five minutes later, greatly
+relieved, and filled with admiration for Lord Ingleby's beautiful and
+right-minded widow. She had always been all that was most charming. Now
+she added sound good sense, to personal charm. Excellent! Incomparable!
+Poor Ingleby! Poor--Ah! _he_ must not be mentioned, even in thought.
+
+Yes; Lady Ingleby was absolutely honest in coming to her decision. And
+yet, from that moment, two names revolved perpetually in her mind, around
+a ceaseless question--the only men mentioned constantly by Michael in his
+letters as being always with him in his experiments, sharing his
+interests and his dangers: Ronald Ingram, and Billy Cathcart--dear boys,
+both; her devoted adorers; almost her dearest, closest friends; faithful,
+trusted, tried. And now the haunting question circled around all thought
+of them: "Was it Ronald? Or was it Billy? Which? Billy or Ronnie? Ronnie
+or Billy?" Myra had said: "I shall never even try to guess," and she had
+said it honestly. She did not try to guess. She guessed, in spite of
+trying not to do so; and the certainty, and yet _un_certainty of her
+surmisings told on her nerves, becoming a cause of mental torment which
+was with her, subconsciously, night and day.
+
+Time went on. The frontier war was over. England, as ever, had been bound
+to win in the end; and England had won. It had merely been a case of
+time; of learning wisdom by a series of initial mistakes; of expending a
+large amount of British gold and British blood. England's supremacy was
+satisfactorily asserted; and, those of her brave troops who had survived
+the initial mistakes, came home; among them Ronald Ingram and Billy
+Cathcart; the former obviously older than when he went away, gaunt and
+worn, pale beneath his bronze, showing unmistakable signs of the effects
+of a severe wound and subsequent fever. "Too interesting for words," said
+the Duchess of Meldrum to Lady Ingleby, recounting her first sight of
+him. "If only I were fifty years younger than I am, I would marry the
+dear boy immediately, take him down to Overdene, and nurse him back to
+health and strength. Oh, you need not look incredulous, my dear Myra! I
+always mean what I say, as you very well know."
+
+But Lady Ingleby denied all suspicion of incredulity, and merely
+suggested languidly, that--bar the matrimonial suggestion--the programme
+was an excellent one, and might well be carried out. Young Ronald being
+of the same opinion, he was soon installed at Overdene, and had what he
+afterwards described as _the_ time of his life, being pampered, spoiled,
+and petted by the dear old duchess, and never allowing her to suspect
+that one of the chief attractions of Overdene lay in the fact that it was
+within easy motoring distance of Shenstone Park.
+
+Billy returned as young, as inconsequent, as irrepressible as ever. And
+yet in him also, Myra was conscious of a subtle change, for which she,
+all too readily, found a reason, far removed from the real one.
+
+The fact was this. Both young men, in their romantic devotion to her, had
+yet been true to their own manhood, and loyal, at heart, to Lord Ingleby.
+But their loyalty had always been with effort. Therefore, when--the
+strain relaxed--they met her again, they were intensely conscious of her
+freedom and of their own resultant liberty. This produced in them, when
+with her, a restraint and shyness which Myra naturally construed into a
+confirmation of her own suspicions. She, having never found it the
+smallest effort to remember she was Michael's, and to be faithful in
+every thought to him, was quite unconscious of her liberty. There having
+been no strain in remaining true to the instincts of her own pure,
+honest, honourable nature, there was no tension to relax.
+
+So it very naturally came to pass that when one day Ronald Ingram had sat
+long with her, silently studying his boots, his strong face tense and
+miserable, every now and then looking furtively at her, then, as his eyes
+met the calm friendliness of hers, dropping them again to the
+floor:--"Poor Ronnie," she mused, "with his 'important career' before
+him. Undoubtedly it was he who did it. And Billy knows it. See how
+fidgety Billy is, while Ronnie sits with me."
+
+But by-and-by it would be: "No; of course it was Billy--dear hot-headed
+impulsive young Billy; and Ronald, knowing it, feels guilty also. Poor
+little Billy, who was as a son to Michael! There was no mistaking the
+emotion in his face just now, when I merely laid my hand on his. Oh,
+impetuous scatter-brained boy!... Dear heavens! I wish he wouldn't hand
+me the bread-and-butter."
+
+Then, into this atmosphere of misunderstanding and uncertainty, intruded
+a fresh element. A first-cousin of Lord Ingleby's, to whom had come the
+title, minus the estates, came to the conclusion that title and estates
+might as well go together. To that end, intruding upon her privacy on
+every possible occasion, he proceeded to pay business-like court to Lady
+Ingleby.
+
+Thus rudely Myra awoke to the understanding of her liberty. At once, her
+whole outlook on life was changed. All things bore a new significance.
+Ronnie and Billy ceased to be comforts. Ronnie's nervous misery assumed a
+new importance; and, coupled with her own suspicions, filled her with a
+dismayed horror. The duchess's veiled jokes took point, and hurt. A sense
+of unprotected loneliness engulfed her. Every man became a prospective
+and dreaded suitor; every woman's remarks seemed to hold an innuendo. Her
+name in the papers distracted her.
+
+She recognised the morbidness of her condition, even while she felt
+unable to cope with it; and, leaving Shenstone suddenly, came up to town,
+and consulted Sir Deryck Brand.
+
+"Oh, my friend," she said, "help me! I shall never face life again."
+
+The doctor heard her patiently, aiding the recital by his strong
+understanding silence.
+
+Then he said, quietly: "Dear lady, the diagnosis is not difficult. Also
+there is but one possible remedy." He paused.
+
+Lady Ingleby's imploring eyes and tense expectancy, besought his
+verdict.
+
+"A rest-cure," said the doctor, with finality.
+
+"Horrors, no!" cried Myra; "Would you shut me up within four walls; cram
+me with rice pudding and every form of food I most detest; send a
+dreadful woman to pound, roll, and pommel me, and tell me gruesome
+stories; keep out all my friends, all letters, all books, all news; and,
+after six weeks send me out into the world again, with my figure gone,
+and not a sane thought upon any subject under the sun? Dear doctor, think
+of it! Stout, and an idiot! Oh, give me something in a bottle, to shake,
+and take three times a day--and let me go!"
+
+The doctor smiled. He was famed for his calm patience.
+
+"Your somewhat highly coloured description, dear Lady Ingleby, applies to
+a form of rest-cure such as I rarely, if ever, recommend. In your case it
+would be worse than useless. We should gain nothing by shutting you up
+with the one person who is doing you harm, and from whom we must contrive
+your escape."
+
+"The one person--?" queried Myra, wide-eyed.
+
+"A charming person," smiled the doctor, "where the rest of mankind are
+concerned; but very bad for you just now."
+
+"But--whom?" questioned Myra, again. "Whom can you mean?"
+
+"I mean Lady Ingleby," replied the doctor, gravely. "When I send you away
+for your rest-cure, Lady Ingleby with her worries and questionings,
+doubts and fears, must be left behind. I shall send you to a little
+out-of-the-world village on the wild sea coast of Cornwall, where you
+know nobody, and nobody knows you. You must go incognito, as 'Miss' or
+'Mrs.'--anything you please. Your rest-cure will consist primarily in
+being set free, for a time, from Lady Ingleby's position, predicament,
+and perplexities. You must send word to all intimate friends, telling
+them you are going into retreat, and they must not write until they hear
+again. You will have leave to write one letter a week, to one person
+only; and that person must be one of whom I can approve. You must eat
+plenty of wholesome food; roam about all day long in the open-air; rise
+early, retire early; live entirely in a simple, beautiful, wholesome
+present, firmly avoiding all remembrance of a sad past, and all
+anticipation of an uncertain future. Nobody is to know where you are,
+excepting myself, and the one friend to whom you may write. But we will
+arrange that somebody--say, for instance, your devoted attendant from the
+Lodge, shall hold herself free to come to you at an hour's notice, should
+you be overwhelmed with a sudden sense of loneliness. The knowledge of
+this, will probably keep the need from arising. You can communicate with
+me daily if you like, by letter or by telegram; but other people must not
+know where you are. I do not wish you followed by the anxious or restless
+thoughts of many minds. To-morrow I will give you the name of a place I
+recommend, and of a comfortable hotel where you can order rooms. It must
+be a place you have never seen, probably one of which you have never
+heard. We are nearing the end of May. I should like you to start on the
+first of June. If you want a house-party at Shenstone this summer, you
+may invite your guests for the first of July. Lady Ingleby will be at
+home again by then, fully able to maintain her reputation as a hostess of
+unequalled charm, graciousness, and popularity. Morbid self-consciousness
+is a condition of mind from which you have hitherto been so completely
+free, that this unexpected attack has altogether unnerved you, and
+requires prompt and uncompromising measures.... Yes, Jane Dalmain may be
+your correspondent. You could not have chosen better."
+
+This was the doctor's verdict and prescription; and, as his patients
+never disputed the one, or declined to take the other, Myra found
+herself, on "the glorious first of June" flying south in the Great
+Western express, bound for the little fishing village of Tregarth where
+she had ordered rooms at the Moorhead Inn, in the name of Mrs. O'Mara.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+AT THE MOORHEAD INN
+
+
+The ruddy glow of a crimson sunset illumined cliff and hamlet, tinting
+the distant ocean into every shade of golden glory, as Myra walked up the
+gravelled path to the rustic porch of the Moorhead Inn, and looked around
+her with a growing sense of excited refreshment.
+
+She had come on foot from the little wayside station, her luggage
+following in a barrow; and this mode of progression, minus a footman and
+maid, and carrying her own cloak, umbrella, and travelling-bag, was in
+itself a charming novelty.
+
+At the door, she was received by the proprietress, a stately lady in
+black satin, wearing a double row of large jet beads, who reminded her
+instantly of all Lord Ingleby's maiden aunts. She seemed an accentuated,
+dignified, concentrated embodiment of them all; and Myra longed for
+Billy, to share the joke.
+
+"Aunt Ingleby" requested Mrs. O'Mara to walk in, and hoped she had had a
+pleasant journey. Then she rang a very loud bell twice, in order to
+summon a maid to show her to her room; and, the maid not appearing at
+once, requested Mrs. O'Mara meanwhile to write her name in the visitors'
+book.
+
+Lady Ingleby walked into the hall, passing a smoking-room on the left,
+and, noting a door, with "Coffee Room" upon it in gold lettering, down a
+short passage immediately opposite. Up from the centre of the hall, on
+her right, went the rather wide old-fashioned staircase; and opposite to
+it, against the wall, between the smoking-room and a door labelled
+"Reception Room," stood a marble-topped table. Lying open upon this table
+was a ponderous visitors' book. A fresh page had been recently commenced,
+as yet only containing four names. The first three were dated May the
+8th, and read, in crabbed precise writing:
+
+  Miss Amelia Murgatroyd, Miss Eliza Murgatroyd, Miss Susannah
+  Murgatroyd ..... Lawn View, Putney.
+
+Below these, bearing date a week later, in small precise writing of
+unmistakable character and clearness, the name:
+
+  Jim Airth ..... London.
+
+Pen and ink lay ready, and, without troubling to remove her glove, Lady
+Ingleby wrote beneath, in large, somewhat sprawling, handwriting:
+
+  Mrs. O'Mara ..... The Lodge, Shenstone.
+
+A maid appeared, took her cloak and bag, and preceded her up the stairs.
+
+As she reached the turn of the staircase, Lady Ingleby paused, and looked
+back into the hall.
+
+The door of the smoking-room opened, and a very tall man came out, taking
+a pipe from the pocket of his loose Norfolk jacket. As he strolled into
+the hall, his face reminded her of Ronnie's, deep-bronzed and thin; only
+it was an older face--strong, rugged, purposeful. The heavy brown
+moustache could not hide the massive cut of chin and jaw.
+
+Catching sight of a fresh name in the book, he paused; then laying one
+large hand upon the table, bent over and read it.
+
+Myra stood still and watched, noting the broad shoulders, and the immense
+length of limb in the leather leggings.
+
+He appeared to study the open page longer than was necessary for the mere
+reading of the name. Then, without looking round, reached up, took a cap
+from the antler of a stag's head high up on the wall, stuck it on the
+back of his head; swung round, and went out through the porch, whistling
+like a blackbird.
+
+"Jim Airth," said Myra to herself, as she moved slowly on; "Jim Airth of
+_London_. What an address! He might just as well have put: 'of the
+world!' A cross between a guardsman and a cowboy; and very likely he will
+turn out to be a commercial-traveller." Then, as she reached the landing
+and came in sight of the rosy-cheeked maid, holding open the door of a
+large airy bedroom, she added with a whimsical smile: "All the same, I
+wish I had taken the trouble to write more neatly."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MRS. O'MARA'S CORRESPONDENCE
+
+
+_Letter from Lady Ingleby to the Honourable Mrs. Dalmain._
+
+                                                     The Moorhead Inn,
+                                                   Tregarth, Cornwall.
+
+MY DEAR JANE,
+
+Having been here a week, I think it is time I commenced my first letter
+to you.
+
+How does it feel to be a person considered pre-eminently suitable to
+minister to a mind diseased? Doesn't it give you a sense of being, as it
+were, rice pudding, or Brand's essence, or Maltine; something essentially
+safe and wholesome? You should have heard how Sir Deryck jumped at you,
+as soon as your name was mentioned, tentatively, as my possible
+correspondent. I had barely whispered it, when he leapt, and clinched the
+matter. I believe "wholesome" was an adjective mentioned. I hope you do
+not mind, dear Jane. I must confess, I would sooner be macaroons or
+oyster-patties, even at the risk of giving my friends occasional
+indigestion. But then I have never gone in for the role of being helpful,
+in which you excel. Not that it is a "role" with you, dear Jane. Rather,
+it is an essential characteristic. You walk in, and find a hopeless
+tangle; gather up the threads in those firm capable hands; deftly sort
+and hold them; and, lo, the tangle is over; the skein of life is once
+more ready for winding!
+
+Well, there is not much tangle about me just now, thanks to our dear
+doctor's most excellent prescription. It was a veritable stroke of
+genius, this setting me free from myself. From the first day, the sense
+of emancipation was indescribable. I enjoy being addressed as "Ma'am"; I
+revel in being without a maid, though it takes me ages to do my hair, and
+I have serious thoughts of wearing it in pigtails down my back! When I
+remember the poor, harassed, exhausted, society-self I left behind, I
+feel like buying a wooden spade and bucket and starting out, all by
+myself, to build sand-castles on this delightful shore. I have no one to
+play with, for I am certain the Miss Murgatroyds--I am going to tell you
+of them--never made sand-castles; no, not even in their infancy, a
+century ago! They must always have been the sort of children who wore
+white frilled bloomers, poplin frocks, and large leghorn hats with
+ribbons tied beneath their excellent little chins, and walked demurely
+with their governess--looking shocked at other infants who whooped and
+ran. I feel inclined to whoop and run, now; and the Miss Murgatroyds are
+quite prepared to look shocked.
+
+But oh, the freedom of being nobody, and of having nothing to think of or
+do! And everything I see and hear gives me joy; a lark rising from the
+turf, and carolling its little self up into the blue; the great Atlantic
+breakers, pounding upon the shore; the fisher-folk, standing at the doors
+of their picturesque thatched cottages. All things seem alive, with an
+exuberance of living, to which I have long been a stranger.
+
+Do you know this coast, with its high moorland, its splendid cliffs; and,
+far below, its sand coves, and ever-moving, rolling, surging, deep green
+sea? Wonderful! Beautiful! Infinite!
+
+My Inn is charming; primitive, yet comfortable. We have excellent coffee,
+fried fish in perfection; real nursery toast, farm butter, and home-made
+bread. When you supplement these with marmalade and mulberry jam, other
+things all cease to be necessities.
+
+Stray travellers come and go in motors, merely lunching, or putting up
+for one night; but there are only four other permanent guests. These all
+furnish me with unceasing interest and amusement. The three Miss
+Murgatroyds--oh, Jane, they are so antediluvian and quaint! Three ancient
+sisters,--by name, Amelia, Eliza, and Susannah. Their villa at Putney
+rejoices in the name of "Lawn View"; so characteristic and suitable;
+because no view reaching beyond the limits of their own front lawn
+appears to these dear ladies to be worthy of regard. They never go
+abroad, "excepting to the Isle of Wight," because they "do not like
+foreigners." A party of quite charming Americans arrived just before
+dinner the other day, in an automobile, and kept us lively during their
+flying visit. They were cordial over the consomme; friendly over the
+fish; and quite confidential by the time we reached the third course.
+But, alas, these delightful cousins from the other side, were considered
+"foreigners" by the Miss Murgatroyds, who consequently encased themselves
+in the frigid armour of their own self-conscious primness; and passed the
+mustard, without a smile. I felt constrained, afterwards, to apologise
+for my country-women; but the Americans, overflowing with appreciative
+good-nature, explained that they had come over expressly in order to see
+old British relics of every kind. They asked me whether I did not think
+the Miss Murgatroyds might have stepped "right out of Dickens." I was
+fairly nonplussed, because I thought they were going to say "out of the
+ark"--you know how one mentally finishes a sentence as soon as it is
+begun?--and I simply dared not confess that I have not read Dickens!
+Alas, how ignorant of our own standard literature we are apt to feel when
+we talk with Americans, and find it completely a part of their everyday
+life.
+
+But I must tell you more about the Miss Murgatroyds--Amelia, Eliza, and
+Susannah. When quite at peace among themselves, which is not often, they
+are Milly, Lizzie, and Susie; but a little rift within the lute is marked
+by the immediate use of their full baptismal names. Poor Susannah being
+the youngest--the youthful side of sixty--and inclined to be kittenish
+and giddy, is very rarely "Susie." Miss Murgatroyd--Amelia--is stern and
+unbending. She wears a cameo brooch the size of a tablespoon, and lays
+down the law in precise and elegant English, even when asking Susie to
+pass the crumpets. Miss Eliza, the second sister, is meek and
+unoffending. Her attitude toward Miss Amelia is one of perpetual apology.
+She addresses Susie as "my dear love," excepting on occasions when
+Susie's behaviour has put her quite outside the pale. Then she calls her,
+"my _dear_ Susannah!" and sighs. I am inclined to think Miss Eliza
+suffers from a demonstrative nature, which has never had an outlet.
+
+But Susie is the lively one. Susie would be a flirt, if she dared, and if
+any man were bold enough to flirt with her under Miss Amelia's eye. Susie
+is barely fifty-five, and her elder sisters regard her as a mere child,
+and are very ready with reproof and correction. Susie has a pink and
+white complexion, a soft fat little face, and plump dimpled hands; and
+Susie is given to vanity. Jim Airth held open the door of the coffee-room
+for her one day, and Susie--I should say Susannah--has been in a flutter
+ever since. Poor naughty Susie! Miss Murgatroyd has changed her place at
+meals--they have a table in the centre of the room--and made her sit with
+her back to Jim Airth; who has a round table, all to himself, in the
+window.
+
+Now I must tell you about Jim Airth, and of a curious coincidence
+connected with him, which you must not repeat to the doctor, for fear he
+should move me on.
+
+Let me confess at once, that I am extremely interested in Jim Airth--and
+it is sweet and generous of me to admit it, for Jim Airth is not in the
+least interested in me! He rarely vouchsafes me a word or a glance. He is
+a bear, and a savage; but such a fine good-looking bear; and such a
+splendid and interesting savage! He is quite the tallest man I ever saw;
+with immense limbs, lean and big-boned; yet moves with the supple grace
+of an Indian. He was through that campaign last year, and had a terrible
+turn of sunstroke and fever, during which his head was shaved.
+Consequently his thick brown hair is now at the stage of standing
+straight up all over it like a bottle-brush. I know Susie longs to smooth
+it down; but that would be a task beyond Susie's utmost efforts. His
+brows are very stern and level; and his eyes, deep-set beneath them, of
+that gentian blue which makes one think of Alpine heights. They can flash
+and gleam, on occasions, and sometimes look almost purple. He wears a
+heavy brown moustache, and his jaw and chin are terrifying in their
+masterful strength. Yet he smokes an old briar pipe; whistles like a
+blackbird; and derives immense amusement from playing up to naughty
+Susie's coyness, when the cameo brooch is turned another way. I have seen
+his eyes twinkle with fun when Miss Susannah has purposely let fall her
+handkerchief, and he has reached out a long arm, picked it up, and
+restored it. Whereupon Susie has hastened out, in the wake of her
+sisters, in a blushing flutter; Miss Eliza turning to whisper: "Oh, my
+dear love! Oh Susannah!" I try, when these things happen, to catch Jim
+Airth's merry eye, and share the humour of the situation; but he stolidly
+sees the wall through me on all occasions, and would tread heavily on
+_my_ poor handkerchief, if I took to dropping it. Miss Murgatroyd tells
+me that he is a confirmed hater of feminine beauty; upon which poor Miss
+Susannah takes a surreptitious prink into the gold-framed mirror over the
+reception-room mantelpiece, and says, plaintively: "Oh, do not say that,
+Amelia!" But Amelia _does_ say "that"; and a good deal more!
+
+When first I saw Jim Airth, I thought him a cross between a cowboy and a
+guardsman; and I think so still. But what do you suppose he turns out to
+be, beside? An author! And, stranger still, he is writing an important
+book called _Modern Warfare; its Methods and Requirements_, in which he
+is explaining and working out many of Michael's ideas and experiments. He
+was right through that border war, and took part in the assault on
+Targai. He must have known Michael, intimately.
+
+All this information I have from Miss Murgatroyd. I sometimes sit with
+them in the reception-room after dinner, where they wind wool and
+knit--endless winding; perpetual knitting! At five minutes to ten, Miss
+Murgatroyd says; "Now, my dear Eliza. Now, Susannah," which is the signal
+for bestowing all their goods and chattels into black satin work-bags.
+Then, at ten o'clock precisely, Miss Murgatroyd rises, and they
+procession up to bed--ah, no! I beg their pardons. The Miss Murgatroyds
+never "go to bed." They all "retire to rest."
+
+Jim Airth and his doings form a favourite topic of conversation. They
+speak of him as "Mr. Airth," which sounds so funny. He is not the sort of
+person one ever could call "Mister." To me, he has been "Jim Airth," ever
+since I saw his name, in small neat writing, in the visitors' book. I had
+to put mine just beneath it, and of course I wrote "Mrs. O'Mara"; then,
+as an address seemed expected, added: "The Lodge, Shenstone." Just after
+I had written this, Jim Airth came into the hall, and stood quite still
+studying it. I saw him, from half-way up the stairs. At first I thought
+he was marvelling at my shocking handwriting; but now I believe the name
+"Shenstone" caught his eye. No doubt he knew it to be Michael's
+family-seat.
+
+Do you know, it was so strange, the other night, Miss Murgatroyd held
+forth in the reception-room about Michael's death. She explained that he
+was "the first to dash into the breach," and "fell with his face to the
+foe." She also added that she used to know "poor dear Lady Ingleby,"
+intimately. This was interesting, and seemed worthy of further inquiry.
+It turned out that she is a distant cousin of a weird old person who used
+to call every year on mamma, for a subscription to some society for
+promoting thrift among the inhabitants of the South Sea Islands. Dear
+mamma used annually to jump upon this courageous old party and flatten
+her out; and listening to the process was, to us, a fearful joy; but
+annually she returned to the charge. On one of these occasions, just
+before my marriage, Miss Murgatroyd accompanied her. Hence her intimate
+knowledge of "poor dear Lady Ingleby." Also she has a friend who, quite
+recently, saw Lady Ingleby driving in the Park; "and, poor thing, she had
+sadly gone off in looks." I felt inclined to prink in the golden mirror,
+after the manner of Susie, and exclaim: "Oh, do not say that, Amelia!"
+
+Isn't it queer the way in which such people as these worthy ladies, yearn
+to be able to say they know us; for really, when all is said and done,
+we are not very much worth knowing? I would rather know a cosmopolitan
+cowboy, such as Jim Airth, than half the titled folk on my visiting-list.
+
+But really, Jane, I must not mention him again, or you will think I am
+infected with Susie's flutter. Not so, my dear! He has shown me no little
+courtesies; given few signs of being conscious of my presence; barely
+returned my morning greeting, though my lonely table is just opposite
+his, in the large bay-window.
+
+But in this new phase of life, everything seems of absorbing interest,
+and the individuality of the few people I see, takes on an exaggerated
+importance. (Really that sentence might almost be Sir Deryck's!) Also, I
+really believe Jim Airth's peculiar fascination consists in the fact that
+I am conscious of his disapproval. If he thinks of me at all, it is not
+with admiration, nor even with liking. And this is a novel experience;
+for I have been spoilt by perpetual approval, and satiated by senseless
+and unmerited adulation.
+
+Oh Jane! As I walk along these cliffs, and hear the Atlantic breakers
+pounding against their base, far down below; as I watch the sea-gulls
+circling around on their strong white wings; as I realise the strength,
+the force, the liberty, in nature; the growth and progress which
+accompanies life; I feel I have never really lived. Nothing has ever felt
+_strong_, either beneath me, or around me, or against me. Had I once been
+mastered, and held, and made to do as another willed, I should have felt
+love was a reality, and life would have become worth living. But I have
+just dawdled through the years, doing exactly as I pleased; making
+mistakes, and nobody troubling to set me right; failing, and nobody
+disappointed that I had not succeeded.
+
+I realise now, that there is a key to life, and a key to love, which has
+never been placed in my hands. What it is, I know not. But if I ever
+learn, it will be from just such a man as Jim Airth. I have never really
+talked with him, yet I am so conscious of his strength and virility, that
+he stands to me, in the abstract, for all that is strongest in manhood,
+and most vital in life.
+
+Much of the benefit of my time here, quite unconsciously to himself,
+comes to me from him. When he walks into the house, whistling like a
+blackbird; when he hangs up his cap on an antler a foot or two higher
+than other people could reach; when he ploughs unhesitatingly through his
+meals, with a book or a paper stuck up in front of him; when he dumps his
+big boots out into the passage, long after the quiet house has hushed
+into repose, and I smile, in the darkness, at the thought of how the
+sound will have annoyed Miss Murgatroyd, startled Miss Eliza, and made
+naughty Miss Susannah's heart flutter;--when all these things happen
+every day, I am conscious that a clearer understanding of the past, a new
+strength for the future, and a fresh outlook on life, come to me, simply
+from the fact that he is himself, and that he is here. Jim Airth may not
+be a saint; but he is a _man!_
+
+Dear Jane, I should scarcely venture to send you this epistle, were it
+not for all the adjectives--"wholesome," "helpful," "understanding,"
+etc., which so rightly apply to you. _You_ will not misunderstand. Of
+that I have no fear. But do not tell the doctor more than that I am very
+well, in excellent spirits, and happier than I have ever been in my
+life.
+
+Tell Garth I loved his last song. How often I sing to myself, as I walk
+in the sea breeze and sunshine, the hairbells waving round my feet:
+
+              "On God's fair earth, 'mid blossoms blue,
+              Fresh hope must ever spring."
+
+I trust I sing it in tune; but I know I have not much ear.
+
+And how is your little Geoffrey? Has he the beautiful shining eyes, we
+all remember? I have often laughed over your account of his sojourn at
+Overdene, and of how our dear naughty old duchess stirred him up to rebel
+against his nurse. You must have had your hands full when you and Garth
+returned from America. Oh, Jane, how different my life would have been if
+I had had a little son! Ah, well!
+
+                  "There is no room for sad despair,
+                  When heaven's love is everywhere."
+
+Tell Garth, I love it; but I wish he wrote simpler accompaniments. That
+one beats me!
+
+                                           Yours, dear Jane,
+                                    Gratefully and affectionately,
+                                                         MYRA INGLEBY.
+
+                         --------------------
+
+_Letter from the Honourable Mrs. Dalmain to Lady Ingleby._
+
+                                                CASTLE GLENEESH, N. B.
+
+MY DEAR MYRA,
+
+No, I have not the smallest objection to representing rice pudding, or
+anything else plain and wholesome, providing I agree with you, and
+suffice for the need of the moment.
+
+I am indeed glad to have so good a report. It proves Deryck right in his
+diagnosis and prescription. Keep to the latter faithfully, in every
+detail.
+
+I am much interested in your account of your fellow-guests at the
+Moorhead Inn. No, I do not misunderstand your letter; nor do I credit you
+with any foolish sentimentality, or Susie-like flutterings. Jim Airth
+stands to you for an abstract thing--uncompromising manhood, in its
+strength and assurance; very attractive after the loneliness and sense of
+being cut adrift, which have been your portion lately. Only,
+remember--where living men and women are concerned, the safely abstract
+is apt suddenly to become the perilously personal; and your future
+happiness may be seriously involved, before you realise the danger. I
+confess, I fail to understand the man's avoidance of you. He sounds the
+sort of fellow who would be friendly and pleasant toward all women, and
+passionately loyal to one. Perhaps you, with your sweet loveliness--a
+fact, my dear, notwithstanding the observations in the Park, of Miss
+Amelia's crony!--may remind him of some long-closed page of past history,
+and he may shrink from the pain of a consequent turning of memory's
+leaves. No doubt Miss Susannah recalls some nice old maiden-aunt, and he
+can afford to respond to her blandishments.
+
+What you say of the way in which Americans know our standard authors,
+reminds me of a fellow-passenger on board the _Baltic_, on our outward
+voyage--a charming woman, from Hartford, Connecticut, who sat beside us
+at meals. She had been spending five months in Europe, travelling
+incessantly, and finished up with London--her first visit to our
+capital--expecting to be altogether too tired to enjoy it; but found it a
+place of such abounding interest and delight, that life went on with
+fresh zest, and fatigue was forgotten. "Every street," she explained, "is
+so familiar. We have never seen them before, and yet they are more
+familiar than the streets of our native cities. It is the London of
+Dickens and of Thackeray. We know it all. We recognise the streets as we
+come to them. The places are homelike to us. _We have known them all our
+lives._" I enjoyed this tribute to our English literature. But I wonder,
+my dear Myra, how many streets, east of Temple Bar, in our dear old
+London, are "homelike" to you!
+
+Garth insists upon sending you at once a selection of his favourites from
+among the works of Dickens. So expect a bulky package before long. You
+might read them aloud to the Miss Murgatroyds, while they knit and wind
+wool.
+
+Garth thoroughly enjoyed our trip to America. You know why we went? Since
+he lost his sight, all sounds mean so much to him. He is so boyishly
+eager to hear all there is to be heard in the world. Any possibility of a
+new sound-experience fills him with enthusiastic expectation, and away we
+go! He set his heart upon hearing the thunderous roar of Niagara, so off
+we went, by the White Star Line. His enjoyment was complete, when at last
+he stood close to the Horseshoe Fall, on the Canadian side, with his hand
+on the rail at the place where the spray showers over you, and the great
+rushing boom seems all around. And as we stood there together, a little
+bird on a twig beside us, began to sing!--Garth is putting it all into a
+symphony.
+
+How true is what you say of the genial friendliness of Americans! I was
+thinking it over, on our homeward voyage. It seems to me, that, as a
+rule, they are so far less self-conscious than we. Their minds are fully
+at liberty to go out at once, in keenest appreciation and interest, to
+meet a new acquaintance. Our senseless British greeting: "How do you
+do?"--that everlasting question, which neither expects nor awaits an
+answer, _can_ only lead to trite remarks about the weather; whereas
+America's "I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Dalmain," or "I am pleased to
+make your acquaintance, Lady Ingleby," is an open door, through which we
+pass at once to fuller friendliness. Too often, in the moment of
+introduction, the reserved British nature turns in upon itself,
+sensitively debating what impression it is making; nervously afraid of
+being too expansive; fearful of giving itself away. But, as I said, the
+American mind comes forth to meet us with prompt interest and
+appreciative expectation; and we make more friends, in that land of ready
+sympathies, in half an hour, than we do in half a year of our own stiff
+social functions. Perhaps you will put me down as biassed in my opinion.
+Well, they were wondrous good to Garth and me; and we depend so greatly
+upon people _saying_ exactly the right thing at the right moment. When
+friendly looks cannot be seen, tactful words become more than ever a
+necessity.
+
+Yes, little Geoff's eyes are bright and shining, and the true golden
+brown. In many other ways he is very like his father.
+
+Garth sends his love, and promises you a special accompaniment to the
+"Blackbird's Song," such as can easily be played with one finger!
+
+It seems so strange to address this envelope to Mrs. O'Mara. It reminds
+me of a time when I dropped my own identity and used another woman's
+name. I only wish your experiment might end as happily as mine.
+
+Ah, Myra dearest, there is a Best for every life! Sometimes we can only
+reach it by a rocky path or along a thorny way; and those who fear the
+pain, come to it not at all. But such of us as have attained, can testify
+that it is worth while. From all you have told me lately, I gather the
+Best has not yet come your way. Keep on expecting. Do not be content with
+less.
+
+We certainly must not let Deryck know that Jim Airth--what a nice
+name--was at Targai. He would move you on, promptly.
+
+Report again next week; and do abide, if necessary, beneath the safe
+chaperonage of the cameo brooch.
+
+                                         Yours, in all fidelity,
+                                                         JANE DALMAIN.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN HORSESHOE COVE
+
+
+Lady Ingleby sat in the honeysuckle arbour, pouring her tea from a little
+brown earthenware teapot, and spreading substantial slices of home-made
+bread with the creamiest of farm butter, when the aged postman hobbled up
+to the garden gate of the Moorhead Inn, with a letter for Mrs. O'Mara.
+
+For a moment she could scarcely bring herself to open an envelope bearing
+another name than her own. Then, smiling at her momentary hesitation, she
+tore it open with the keen delight of one, who, accustomed to a dozen
+letters a day, has passed a week without receiving any.
+
+She read Mrs. Dalmain's letter through rapidly; and once she laughed
+aloud; and once a sudden colour flamed into her cheeks.
+
+Then she laid it down, and helped herself to honey--real heather-honey,
+golden in the comb.
+
+She took up her letter again, and read it carefully, weighing each word.
+
+Then:--"Good old Jane!" she said; "that is rather neatly put: the 'safely
+abstract' becoming the 'perilously personal.' She has acquired the knack
+of terse and forceful phraseology from her long friendship with the
+doctor. I can do it myself, when I try; only, _my_ Sir Derycky sentences
+are apt merely to sound well, and mean nothing at all. And--after
+all--_does_ this of Jane's mean anything worthy of consideration? Could
+six foot five of abstraction--eating its breakfast in complete
+unconsciousness of one's presence, returning one's timid 'good-morning'
+with perfunctory politeness, and relegating one, while still debating the
+possibility of venturing a remark on the weather, to obvious
+oblivion--ever become perilously personal?"
+
+Lady Ingleby laughed again, returned the letter to its envelope, and
+proceeded to cut herself a slice of home-made currant cake. As she
+finished it, with a final cup of tea, she thought with amusement of the
+difference between this substantial meal in the honeysuckle arbour of the
+old inn garden, and the fashionable teas then going on in crowded
+drawing-rooms in town, where people hurried in, took a tiny roll of thin
+bread-and-butter, and a sip at luke-warm tea, which had stood
+sufficiently long to leave an abiding taste of tannin; heard or imparted
+a few more or less detrimental facts concerning mutual friends; then
+hurried on elsewhere, to a cucumber sandwich, colder tea, which had stood
+even longer, and a fresh instalment of gossip.
+
+"Oh, why do we do it?" mused Lady Ingleby. Then, taking up her scarlet
+parasol, she crossed the little lawn, and stood at the garden gate, in
+the afternoon sunlight, debating in which direction she should go.
+
+Usually her walks took her along the top of the cliffs, where the larks,
+springing from the short turf and clumps of waving harebells, sang
+themselves up into the sky. She loved being high above the sea, and
+hearing the distant thunder of the breakers on the rocks below.
+
+But to-day the steep little street, down through the fishing village, to
+the cove, looked inviting. The tide was out, and the sands gleamed
+golden.
+
+Also, from her seat in the arbour, she had seen Jim Airth's tall figure
+go swinging along the cliff edge, silhouetted against the clear blue of
+the sky. And one sentence in the letter she had just received, made this
+into a factor which turned her feet toward the shore.
+
+The friendly Cornish folk, sitting on their doorsteps in the sunshine,
+smiled at the lovely woman in white serge, who passed down their village
+street, so tall and graceful, beneath the shade of her scarlet parasol.
+An item in the doctor's prescription had been the discarding of widow's
+weeds, and it had seemed quite natural to Myra to come down to her first
+Cornish breakfast in a cream serge gown.
+
+Arrived at the shore, she turned in the direction she usually took when
+up above, and walked quickly along the firm smooth sand; pausing
+occasionally to pick up a beautifully marked stone, or to examine a
+brilliant sea-anemone or gleaming jelly-fish, left stranded by the tide.
+
+Presently she reached a place where the cliff jutted out toward the sea;
+and, climbing over slippery rocks, studded with shining pools in which
+crimson seaweed waved, crabs scudded sideways from her passing shadow,
+and darting shrimps flicked across and buried themselves hastily in the
+sand, Myra found herself in a most fascinating cove. The line of cliff
+here made a horseshoe, not quite half a mile in length. The little bay,
+within this curve, was a place of almost fairy-like beauty; the sand a
+soft glistening white, decked with delicate crimson seaweed. The cliffs,
+towering up above, gave welcome shadow to the shore; yet the sun behind
+them still gleamed and sparkled on the distant sea.
+
+Myra walked to the centre of the horseshoe; then, picking up a piece of
+driftwood, scooped out a comfortable hollow in the sand, about a dozen
+yards from the foot of the cliff; stuck her open parasol up behind it, to
+shield herself from the observation, from above, of any chance passer-by;
+and, settling comfortably into the soft hollow, lay back, watching,
+through half-closed lids, the fleeting shadows, the blue sky, the gently
+moving sea. Little white clouds blushed rosy red. An opal tint gleamed on
+the water. The moving ripple seemed too far away to break the restful
+silence.
+
+Lady Ingleby's eyelids drooped lower and lower.
+
+"Yes, my dear Jane," she murmured, dreamily watching a snow-white sail,
+as it rounded the point, curtseyed, and vanished from view; "undoubtedly
+a--a well-expressed sentence; but far from--from--being fact. The safely
+abstract could hardly require--a--a--a cameo----"
+
+The long walk, the sea breeze, the distant lapping of the water--all
+these combined had done their soothing work.
+
+Lady Ingleby slept peacefully in Horseshoe Cove; and the rising tide
+crept in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+JIM AIRTH TO THE RESCUE
+
+
+An hour later, a man swung along the path at the summit of the cliffs,
+whistling like a blackbird.
+
+The sun was setting; and, as he walked, he revelled in the gold and
+crimson of the sky; in the opal tints upon the heaving sea.
+
+The wind had risen as the sun set, and breakers were beginning to pound
+along the shore.
+
+Suddenly something caught his eye, far down below.
+
+"By Jove!" he said. "A scarlet poppy on the sands!"
+
+He walked on, until his rapid stride brought him to the centre of the
+cliff above Horseshoe Cove.
+
+Then--"Good Lord!" said Jim Airth, and stood still.
+
+He had caught sight of Lady Ingleby's white skirt reposing on the sand,
+beyond the scarlet parasol.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Jim Airth.
+
+Then he scanned the horizon. Not a boat to be seen.
+
+His quick eye travelled along the cliff, the way he had come. Not a
+living thing in sight.
+
+On to the fishing village. Faint threads of ascending vapour indicated
+chimneys. "Two miles at least," muttered Jim Airth. "I could not run it
+and get back with a boat, under three quarters of an hour."
+
+Then he looked down into the cove.
+
+"Both ends cut off. The water will reach her feet in ten minutes; will
+sweep the base of the cliff, in twenty."
+
+Exactly beneath the spot where he stood, more than half way down, was a
+ledge about six feet long by four feet wide.
+
+Letting himself over the edge, holding to tufts of grass, tiny shrubs,
+jutting stones, cracks in the surface of the sandstone, he managed to
+reach this narrow ledge, dropping the last ten feet, and landing on it by
+an almost superhuman effort of balance.
+
+One moment he paused; carefully took its measure; then, leaning over,
+looked down. Sixty feet remained, a precipitous slope, with nothing to
+which foot could hold, or hand could cling.
+
+Jim Airth buttoned his Norfolk jacket, and tightened his belt. Then
+slipping, feet foremost off the ledge, he glissaded down on his back,
+bending his knees at the exact moment when his feet thudded heavily on to
+the sand.
+
+For a moment the shock stunned him. Then he got up and looked around.
+
+He stood, within ten yards of the scarlet parasol, on the small strip of
+sand still left uncovered by the rapidly advancing sweep of the rising
+tide.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"YEO HO, WE GO!"
+
+
+"A cameo chaperonage," murmured Lady Ingleby, and suddenly opened her
+eyes.
+
+Sky and sea were still there, but between them, closer than sea or sky,
+looking down upon her with a tense light in his blue eyes, stood Jim
+Airth.
+
+"Why, I have been asleep!" said Lady Ingleby.
+
+"You have," said Jim Airth; "and meanwhile the sun has set, and--the tide
+has come up. Allow me to assist you to rise."
+
+Lady Ingleby put her hand into his, and he helped her to her feet. She
+stood beside him gazing, with wide startled eyes, at the expanse of sea,
+the rushing waves, the tiny strip of sand.
+
+"The tide seems very high," said Lady Ingleby.
+
+"Very high," agreed Jim Airth. He stood close beside her, but his eyes
+still eagerly scanned the water. If by any chance a boat came round the
+point there would still be time to hail it.
+
+"We seem to be cut off," said Lady Ingleby.
+
+"We _are_ cut off," replied Jim Airth, laconically.
+
+"Then I suppose we must have a boat," said Lady Ingleby.
+
+"An excellent suggestion," replied Jim Airth, drily, "if a boat were to
+be had. But, unfortunately, we are two miles from the hamlet, and this is
+not a time when boats pass in and out; nor would they come this way. When
+I saw you, from the top of the cliff, I calculated the chances as to
+whether I could reach the boats, and be back here in time. But, before I
+could have returned with a boat, you would have--been very wet," finished
+Jim Airth, somewhat lamely.
+
+He looked at the lovely face, close to his shoulder. It was pale and
+serious, but showed no sign of fear.
+
+He glanced at the point of cliff beyond. Twenty feet above its rocky base
+the breakers were dashing; but round that point would be safety.
+
+"Can you swim?" asked Jim Airth, eagerly.
+
+Myra's calm grey eyes met his, steadily. A gleam of amusement dawned in
+them.
+
+"If you put your hand under my chin, and count 'one--two! one--two!' very
+loud and quickly, I can swim nearly ten yards," she said.
+
+Jim Airth laughed. His eyes met hers, in sudden comprehending
+comradeship. "By Jove, you're plucky!" they seemed to say. But what he
+really said was: "Then swimming is no go."
+
+"No go, for me," said Myra, earnestly, "nor for you, weighted by me. We
+should never get round that eddying whirlpool. It would merely mean that
+we should both be drowned. But you can easily do it alone. Oh, go at
+once! Go quickly! And--don't look back. I shall be all right. I shall
+just sit down against the cliff, and wait. I have always been fond of the
+sea."
+
+Jim Airth looked at her again. And, this time, open admiration shone in
+his keen eyes.
+
+"Ah, brave!" he said. "A mother of soldiers! Such women make of us a
+fighting race."
+
+Myra laid her hand on his sleeve. "My friend," she said, "it was never
+given me to be a mother. But I am a soldier's daughter, and a soldier's
+widow; and--I am not afraid to die. Oh, I do beg of you--give me one
+handclasp and go!"
+
+Jim Airth took the hand held out, but he kept it firmly in his own.
+
+"You shall not die," he said, between his teeth. "Do you suppose I would
+leave any woman to die alone? And _you_--you, of all women!--By heaven,"
+he repeated, doggedly; "you shall not die. Do you think I could go; and
+leave--" he broke off abruptly.
+
+Myra smiled. His hand was very strong, and her heart felt strangely
+restful. And had he not said: "_You_, of all women?" But, even in what
+seemed likely to be her last moments, Lady Ingleby's unfailing instinct
+was to be tactful.
+
+"I am sure you would leave no woman in danger," she said; "and some,
+alas! might have been easier to save than I. Plump little Miss Susie
+would have floated."
+
+Jim Airth's big laugh rang out. "And Miss Murgatroyd could have sailed
+away in her cameo," he said.
+
+Then, as if that laugh had broken the spell which held him inactive:
+"Come," he cried, and drew her to the foot of the cliff; "we have not a
+moment to lose! Look! Do you see the way I came down? See that long slide
+in the sand? I tobogganed down there on my back. Pretty steep, and
+nothing to hold to, I admit; but not so very far up, after all. And,
+where my slide begins, is a blessed ledge four foot by six." He pulled
+out a huge clasp-knife, opened the largest blade, and commenced hacking
+steps in the face of the cliff. "We must climb," said Jim Airth.
+
+"I have never climbed," whispered Myra's voice behind him.
+
+"You must climb to-day," said Jim Airth.
+
+"I could never even climb trees," whispered Myra.
+
+"You must climb a cliff to-night. It is our only chance."
+
+He hacked on, rapidly.
+
+Suddenly he paused. "Show me your reach," he said. "Mine would not do.
+Put your left hand there; so. Now stretch up with your right; as high as
+you can, easily.... Ah! three foot six, or thereabouts. Now your left
+foot close to the bottom. Step up with your right, as high as you can
+comfortably.... Two foot, nine. Good! One step, more or less, might make
+all the difference, by-and-by. Now listen, while I work. What a God-send
+for us that there happens to be, just here, this stratum of soft sand. We
+should have been done for, had the cliff been serpentine marble. You must
+choose between two plans. I could scrape you a step, wider than the
+rest--almost a ledge--just out of reach of the water, leaving you there,
+while I go on up, and finish. Then I could return for you. You could
+climb in front, I helping from below. You would feel safer. Or--you must
+follow me up now, step by step, as I cut them."
+
+"I could not wait on a ledge alone," said Myra. "I will follow you, step
+by step."
+
+"Good," said Jim Airth; "it will save time. I am afraid you must take off
+your shoes and stockings. Nothing will do for this work, but naked feet.
+We shall need to stick our toes into the sand, and make them cling on
+like fingers."
+
+He pulled off his own boots and stockings; then drew the belt from his
+Norfolk jacket, and fastened it firmly round his left ankle in such a way
+that a long end would hang down behind him as he mounted.
+
+"See that?" he said. "When you are in the niches below me, it will hang
+close to your hands. If you are slipping, and feel you _must_ clutch at
+something, catch hold of that. Only, if possible, shout first, and I will
+stick on like a limpet, and try to withstand the strain. But don't do it,
+unless really necessary."
+
+He picked up Myra's shoes and stockings, and put them into his big
+pockets.
+
+At that moment an advance wave rushed up the sand and caught their bare
+feet.
+
+"Oh, Jim Airth," cried Myra, "go without me! I have not a steady head. I
+cannot climb."
+
+He put his hands upon her shoulders, and looked full into her eyes.
+
+"You _can_ climb," he said. "You _must_ climb. You _shall_ climb. We must
+climb--or drown. And, remember: if you fall, I fall too. You will not be
+saving me, by letting yourself go."
+
+She looked up into his eyes, despairingly. They blazed into hers from
+beneath his bent brows. She felt the tremendous mastery of his will. Her
+own gave one final struggle.
+
+"I have nothing to live for, Jim Airth," she said. "I am alone in the
+world."
+
+"So am I," he cried. "I have been worse than alone, for a half score of
+years. But there is _life_ to live for. Would you throw away the highest
+of all gifts? I want to live--Good God! I _must_ live; and so must you.
+We live or die together."
+
+He loosed her shoulders and took her by the wrists. He lifted her
+trembling hands, and held them against his breast.
+
+For a moment they stood so, in absolute silence.
+
+Then Myra felt herself completely dominated. All fear slipped from her;
+but the assurance which took its place was his courage, not hers; and she
+knew it. Lifting her head, she smiled at him, with white lips.
+
+"I shall not fall," she said.
+
+Another wave swept round their ankles, and remained there.
+
+"Good," said Jim Airth, and loosed her wrists. "We shall owe our lives to
+each other. Next time I look into your face, please God, we shall be in
+safety. Come!"
+
+He sprang up the face of the cliff, standing in the highest niches he had
+made.
+
+"Now follow me, carefully," he said; "slowly, and carefully. We are not
+in a position to hurry. Always keep each hand and each foot firmly in a
+niche. Are you there? Good!... Now don't look either up or down, but keep
+your eyes on my heels. Directly I move, come on into the empty places.
+See?... Now then. Can you manage?... Good! On we go! After all it won't
+take long.... I say, what fun if the Miss Murgatroyds peeped over the
+cliff! Amelia would be so shocked at our bare feet. Eliza would cry: 'Oh
+my dear love!' And Susie would promptly fall upon us! Hullo! Steady down
+there! Don't laugh too much.... Fine knife, this. I bought it in Mexico.
+And if the big blade gives out, there are two more; also a saw, and a
+cork-screw.... Mind the falling sand does not get into your eyes.... Tell
+me if the niches are not deep enough, and remember there is no hurry, we
+are not aiming to catch any particular train! Steady down there! Don't
+laugh.... Up we go! Oh, good! This is a third of the way. Don't look
+either up or down. Watch my heels--I wish they were more worth looking
+at--and remember the belt is quite handy, and I am as firm as a rock up
+here. You and all the Miss Murgatroyds might hang on to it together.
+Steady down there!... All right; I won't mention them.... By the way, the
+water must be fairly deep below us now. If you fell, you would merely get
+a ducking. I should slide down and pull you out, and we would start
+afresh.... Good Lord!... Oh, never mind! Nothing. Only, my knife slipped,
+but I caught it again.... We must be half way, by now. How lucky we have
+my glissading marks to guide us. I can't see the ledge from here. Let's
+sing 'Nancy Lee.' I suppose you know it. I can always work better to a
+good rollicking tune."
+
+Then, as he drove his blade into the cliff, Jim Airth's gay voice rang
+out:
+
+                 "Of all the wives as e'er you know,
+                 Yeo ho! lads! ho!
+                 Yeo ho! Yeo ho!
+                 There's none like Nancy Lee, I trow,
+                 Yeo ho! lads! ho!
+                 Yeo ho!
+                 See there she stands
+
+--Blow! I've struck a rock! Not a big one though. Remember this step will
+be slightly more to your right
+
+                --and waves her hands,
+                Upon the quay,
+                And ev'ry day when I'm away,
+                She'll watch for me;
+                And whisper low, when tempests blow--
+
+Oh, hang these unexpected stones! That's finished my big blade!
+
+                      --For Jack at sea,
+                      Yeo ho! lads, ho! Yeo ho!
+
+Now the chorus.
+
+           The sailor's wife the sailor's star shall be,--
+
+Come on! You sing too!"
+
+                           "Yeo ho! we go,
+                           Across the sea!"
+
+came Lady Ingleby's voice from below, rather faint and quavering.
+
+"That's right!" shouted Jim Airth. "Keep it up! I can see the ledge now,
+just above us.
+
+                 The bo's'n pipes the watch below,
+                 Yeo ho! lads! ho!
+                 Yeo ho! Yeo ho!
+                 Then here's a health afore we go,
+                 Yeo ho! lads! ho!
+                 Yeo ho!
+                 A long, long life to my sweet wife,
+                 And mates at sea
+
+--Keep it up down there! I have one hand on the ledge--
+
+                  And keep our bones from Davy Jones
+                  Where'er we be!"
+
+                     "And--keep our bones--from--
+                     Davy Jones--who e'er he be,"
+
+quavered Lady Ingleby, making one final effort to move up into the vacant
+niches, though conscious that her fingers and toes were so numb that she
+could not feel them grip the sand.
+
+Then Jim Airth's whole body vanished suddenly from above her, as he drew
+himself on to the ledge.
+
+"_Yeo ho! we go_!" Came his gay voice from above.
+
+                         _"Yeo ho! Yeo ho!"_
+
+sang Lady Ingleby, in a faint whisper.
+
+She could not move on into the empty niches. She could only remain where
+she was, clinging to the face of the cliff.
+
+She suddenly thought of a fly on a wall; and remembered a particular fly,
+years ago, on her nursery wall. She had followed its ascent with a small
+interested finger, and her nurse had come by with a duster, and saying:
+"Nasty thing!" had ruthlessly flicked it off. The fly had fallen--fallen
+dead, on the nursery carpet.... Lady Ingleby felt she too was falling.
+She gave one agonised glance upward to the towering cliff, with the line
+of sky above it. Then everything swayed and rocked. "A mother of
+soldiers," her brain insisted, "must fall without screaming." Then--A
+long arm shot down from above; a strong hand gripped her firmly.
+
+"One step more," said Jim Airth's voice, close to her ear, "and I can
+lift you."
+
+She made the effort, and he drew her on to the ledge beside him.
+
+"Thank you very much," said Lady Ingleby. "And who was Davy Jones?"
+
+Jim Airth's face was streaming with perspiration. His mouth was full of
+sand. His heart was beating in his throat. But he loved to play the game,
+and he loved to see another do it. So he laughed as he put his arm around
+her, holding her tightly so that she should not realise how much she was
+trembling.
+
+"Davy Jones," he said, "is a gentleman who has a locker at the bottom of
+the sea, into which all drown'd things go. I am afraid your pretty
+parasol has gone there, and my boots and stockings. But we may well spare
+him those.... Oh, I say!.... Yes, do have a good cry. Don't mind me. And
+don't you think between us we could remember some sort of a prayer? For
+if ever two people faced death together, we have faced it; and, by God's
+mercy, here we are--alive."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+'TWIXT SEA AND SKY
+
+
+Myra never forgot Jim Airth's prayer. Instinctively she knew it to be the
+first time he had voiced his soul's thanksgiving or petitions in the
+presence of another. Also she realised that, for the first time in her
+whole life, prayer became to her a reality. As she crouched on the ledge
+beside him, shaking uncontrollably, so that, but for his arm about her,
+she must have lost her balance and fallen; as she heard that strong soul
+expressing in simple unorthodox language its gratitude for life and
+safety, mingled with earnest petition for keeping through the night and
+complete deliverance in the morning; it seemed to Myra that the heavens
+opened, and the felt presence of God surrounded them in their strange
+isolation.
+
+An immense peace filled her. By the time those disjointed halting
+sentences were finished, Myra had ceased trembling; and when Jim Airth,
+suddenly at a loss how else to wind up his prayer, commenced "Our Father,
+Who art in heaven," Myra's sweet voice united with his, full of an
+earnest fervour of petition.
+
+At the final words, Jim Airth withdrew his arm, and a shy silence fell
+between them. The emotion of the mind had awakened an awkwardness of
+body. In that uniting "_Our_ Father," their souls had leapt on, beyond
+where their bodies were quite prepared to follow.
+
+Lady Ingleby saved the situation. She turned to Jim Airth, with that
+impulsive sweetness which could never be withstood. In the rapidly
+deepening twilight, he could just see the large wistful grey eyes, in the
+white oval of her face.
+
+"Do you know," she said, "I really couldn't possibly sit all night, on a
+ledge the size of a Chesterfield sofa, with a person I had to call 'Mr.'
+I could only sit there with an old and intimate friend, who would
+naturally call me 'Myra,' and whom I might call 'Jim.' Unless I may call
+you 'Jim,' I shall insist on climbing down and swimming home. And if you
+address me as 'Mrs. O'Mara,' I shall certainly become hysterical, and
+tumble off!"
+
+"Why of course," said Jim Airth. "I hate titles of any kind. I come of an
+old Quaker stock, and plain names with no prefixes always seem best to
+me. And are we not old and trusted friends? Was not each of those minutes
+on the face of the cliff, a year? While that second which elapsed between
+the slipping of my knife from my right hand and the catching of it,
+against my knee, by my left, may go at ten years! Ah, think if it had
+dropped altogether! No, don't think. We were barely half way up. Now you
+must contrive to put on your shoes and stockings." He produced them from
+his pocket. "And then we must find out how to place ourselves most
+comfortably and safely. We have but one enemy to fight during the next
+seven hours--cramp. You must tell me immediately if you feel it
+threatening anywhere, I have done a lot of scouting in my time, and know
+a dodge or two. I also know what it is to lie in one position for hours,
+not daring to move a muscle, the cold sweat pouring off my face, simply
+from the agonies of cramp. We must guard against that."
+
+"Jim," said Myra, "how long shall we have to sit here?"
+
+He made a quick movement, as if the sound of his name from her lips for
+the first time, meant much to him; and there was in his voice an added
+depth of joyousness, as he answered:
+
+"It would be impossible to climb from here to the top of the cliff. When
+I came down, I had a sheer drop of ten feet. You see the cliff slightly
+overhangs just above us. So far as the tide is concerned we might clamber
+down in three hours; but there is no moon, and by then, it will be pitch
+dark. We must have light for our descent, if I am to land you safe and
+unshaken at the bottom. Dawn should be breaking soon after three. The sun
+rises to-morrow at 3.44; but it will be quite light before then. I think
+we may expect to reach the Moorhead Inn by 4 A.M. Let us hope Miss
+Murgatroyd will not be looking out of her window, as we stroll up the
+path."
+
+"What are they all thinking now?" questioned Lady Ingleby.
+
+"I don't know, and I don't care," said Jim Airth, gaily. "You're alive,
+and I'm alive; and we've done a record climb! Nothing else matters."
+
+"No, but seriously, Jim?"
+
+"Well, seriously, it is very unlikely that I shall be missed at all. I
+often dine elsewhere, and let myself in quite late; or stop out
+altogether. How about you?"
+
+"Why, curiously enough," said Myra, "before coming out I locked my
+bedroom door. I have the key here. I had left some papers lying about--I
+am not a very tidy person. On the only other occasion upon which I locked
+my door, I omitted dinner altogether, and went to bed on returning from
+my evening walk. I am supposed to be doing a 'rest-cure' here. The maid
+tried my door, went away, and did not turn up again until next morning.
+Most likely she has done the same to-night."
+
+"Then I don't suppose they will send out a search-party," said Jim
+Airth.
+
+"No. We are so alone down here. We only matter to ourselves," said Myra.
+
+"And to each other," said Jim Airth, quietly.
+
+Myra's heart stood still.
+
+Those four words, spoken so simply by that deep tender voice, meant more
+to her than any words had ever meant. They meant so much, that they made
+for themselves a silence--a vast holy temple of wonder and realisation
+wherein they echoed back and forth, repeating themselves again and
+again.
+
+The two on the ledge sat listening.
+
+The chant of mutual possession, so suddenly set going, was too beautiful
+a thing to be interrupted by other words.
+
+Even Lady Ingleby's unfailing habit of tactful speech was not allowed to
+spoil the deep sweetness of this unexpected situation. Myra's heart was
+waking; and when the heart is stirred, the mind sometimes forgets to be
+tactful.
+
+At length:--"Don't you remember," he said, very low, "what I told you
+before we began to climb? Did I not say, that if we succeeded in reaching
+the ledge safely, we should owe our lives to each other? Well, we did;
+and--we do."
+
+"Ah, no," cried Myra, impulsively. "No, Jim Airth! You--glad, and safe,
+and free--were walking along the top of these cliffs. I, in my senseless
+folly, lay sleeping on the sand below, while the tide rose around me. You
+came down into danger to save me, risking your life in so doing. I owe
+you my life, Jim Airth; you owe me nothing."
+
+The man beside her turned and looked at her, with his quiet whimsical
+smile.
+
+"I am not accustomed to have my statements amended," he said, drily.
+
+It was growing so dark, they could only just discern each other's faces.
+
+Lady Ingleby laughed. She was so unused to that kind of remark, that, at
+the moment she could frame no suitable reply.
+
+Presently:--"I suppose I really owe my life to my scarlet parasol," she
+said. "Had it not attracted your attention, you would not have seen me."
+
+"Should I not?" questioned Jim Airth, his eyes on the white loveliness of
+her face. "Since I saw you first, on the afternoon of your arrival, have
+you ever once come within my range of vision without my seeing you, and
+taking in every detail?"
+
+"On the afternoon of my arrival?" questioned Lady Ingleby, astonished.
+
+"Yes," replied Jim Airth, deliberately. "Seven o'clock, on the first of
+June. I stood at the smoking-room window, at a loose end of all things;
+sick of myself, dissatisfied with my manuscript, tired of fried
+fish--don't laugh; small things, as well as great, go to make up the sum
+of a man's depression. Then the gate swung back, and YOU--in golden
+capitals--the sunlight in your eyes, came up the garden path. I judged
+you to be a woman grown, in years perhaps not far short of my own age; I
+guessed you a woman of the world, with a position to fill, and a
+knowledge of men and things. Yet you looked just a lovely child, stepping
+into fairy-land; the joyful surprise of unexpected holiday danced in your
+radiant eyes. Since then, the beautiful side of life has always been
+you--YOU, in golden capitals."
+
+Jim Airth paused, and sat silent.
+
+It was quite dark now.
+
+Myra slipped her hand into his, which closed upon it with a strong
+unhesitating clasp.
+
+"Go on, Jim," she said, softly.
+
+"I went out into the hall, and saw your name in the visitors' book. The
+ink was still wet. The handwriting was that of the holiday-child--I
+should like to set you copies! The name surprised me--agreeably. I had
+expected to be able at once to place the woman who had walked up the
+path. It was a surprise and a relief to find that my Fairy-land Princess
+was not after all a fashionable beauty or a society leader, but owned
+just a simple Irish name, and lived at a Lodge."
+
+"Go on, Jim," said Lady Ingleby, rather tremulously.
+
+"Then the name 'Shenstone' interested me, because I know the Inglebys--at
+least, I knew Lord Ingleby, well; and I shall soon know Lady Ingleby. In
+fact I have written to-day asking for an interview. I must see her on
+business connected with notes of her husband's which, if she gives
+permission, are to be embodied in my book. I suppose if you live near
+Shenstone Park you know the Inglebys?"
+
+"Yes," said Myra. "But tell me, Jim; if--if you noticed so much that
+first day; if you were--interested; if you wanted to set me copies--yes,
+I know I write a shocking hand;--why would you never look at me? Why were
+you so stiff and unfriendly? Why were you not as nice to me as you were
+to Susie, for instance?"
+
+Jim Airth sat long in silence, staring out into the darkness. At last he
+said:
+
+"I want to tell you. Of course, I _must_ tell you. But--may I ask a few
+questions first?"
+
+Lady Ingleby also gazed unseeingly into the darkness; but she leaned a
+little nearer to the broad shoulder beside her. "Ask me what you will,"
+she said. "There is nothing, in my whole life, I would not tell you, Jim
+Airth."
+
+Her cheek was so close to the rough Norfolk jacket, that if it had moved
+a shade nearer, she would have rested against it. But it did not move;
+only, the clasp on her hand tightened.
+
+"Were you married very young?" asked Jim Airth.
+
+"I was not quite eighteen. It is ten years ago."
+
+"Did you marry for love?"
+
+There was a long silence, while both looked steadily into the darkness.
+
+Then Myra answered, speaking very slowly. "To be quite honest, I think I
+married chiefly to escape from a very unhappy home. Also I was very
+young, and knew nothing--nothing of life, and nothing of love; and--how
+can I explain, Jim Airth?--I have not learnt much during these ten long
+years."
+
+"Have you been unhappy?" He asked the question very low.
+
+"Not exactly unhappy. My husband was a very good man; kind and patient,
+beyond words, towards me. But I often vaguely felt I was missing the Best
+in life. Now--I know I was."
+
+"How long have you been--How long has he been dead?" The deep voice was
+so tender, that the question could bring no pain.
+
+"Seven months," replied Lady Ingleby. "My husband was killed in the
+assault on Targai."
+
+"At Targai!" exclaimed Jim Airth, surprised into betraying his
+astonishment. Then at once recovering himself: "Ah, yes; of course. Seven
+months. I was there, you know."
+
+But, within himself, he was thinking rapidly, and much was becoming
+clear.
+
+Sergeant O'Mara! Was it possible? An exquisite refined woman such as
+this, bearing about her the unmistakable hall-mark of high birth and
+perfect breeding? The Sergeant was a fine fellow, and superior--but, good
+Lord! _Her_ husband! Yet girls of eighteen do foolish things, and repent
+ever after. A runaway match from an unhappy home; then cast off by her
+relations, and now left friendless and alone. But--Sergeant O'Mara! Yet
+no other O'Mara fell at Targai; and there _was_ some link between him and
+Lord Ingleby.
+
+Then, into his musing, came Myra's soft voice, from close beside him, in
+the darkness: "My husband was always good to me; but----"
+
+And Jim Airth laid his other hand over the one he held. "I am sure he
+was," he said, gently. "But if you had been older, and had known more of
+love and life you would have done differently. Don't try to explain. I
+understand."
+
+And Myra gladly left it at that. It would have been so very difficult to
+explain further, without explaining Michael; and all that really mattered
+was, that--with or without explanation--Jim Airth understood.
+
+"And now--tell me," she suggested, softly.
+
+"Ah, yes," he said, pulling himself together, with an effort. "My
+experience also misses the Best, and likewise covers ten long years. But
+it is a harder one than yours. I married, when a boy of twenty-one, a
+woman, older than myself; supremely beautiful. I went mad over her
+loveliness. Nothing seemed to count or matter, but that. I knew she was
+not a good woman, but I thought she might become so; and even if she
+didn't it made no difference. I wanted her. Afterwards I found she had
+laughed at me, all the time. Also, there had all the time been
+another--an older man than I--who had laughed with her. He had not been
+in a position to marry her when I did; but two years later, he came into
+money. Then--she left me."
+
+Jim Airth paused. His voice was hard with pain. The night was very black.
+In the dark silence they could hear the rhythmic thunder of the waves
+pounding monotonously against the cliff below.
+
+"I divorced her, of course; and he married her; but I went abroad, and
+stayed abroad. I never could look upon her as other than my wife. She had
+made a hell of my life; robbed me of every illusion; wrecked my ideals;
+imbittered my youth. But I had said, before God, that I took her for my
+wife, until death parted us; and, so long as we were both alive, what
+power could free me from that solemn oath? It seemed to me that by
+remaining in another hemisphere, I made her second marriage less sinful.
+Often, at first, I was tempted to shoot myself, as a means of righting
+this other wrong. But in time I outgrew that morbidness, and realised
+that though Love is good, Life is the greatest gift of all. To throw it
+away, voluntarily, is an unpardonable sin. The suicide's punishment
+should be loss of immortality. Well, I found work to do, of all sorts, in
+America, and elsewhere. And a year ago--she died. I should have come
+straight home, only I was booked for that muddle on the frontier they
+called 'a war.' I got fever after Targai; was invalided home; and here I
+am recruiting and finishing my book. Now you can understand why
+loveliness in a woman, fills me with a sort of panic, even while a part
+of me still leaps up instinctively to worship it. I had often said to
+myself that if I ever ventured upon matrimony again, it should be a plain
+face, and a noble heart; though all the while I knew I should never bring
+myself really to want the plain face. And yet, just as the burnt child
+dreads the fire, I have always tried to look away from beauty. Only--my
+Fairy-land Princess, may I say it?--days ago I began to feel certain that
+in you--YOU in golden capitals--the loveliness and the noble heart went
+together. But from the moment when, stepping out of the sunset, you
+walked up the garden path, right into my heart, the fact of YOU, just
+being what you are, and being here, meant so much to me, that I did not
+dare let it mean more. Somehow I never connected you with widowhood; and
+not until you said this evening on the shore: 'I am a soldier's widow,'
+did I know that you were free.--There! Now you have heard all there is to
+hear. I made a bad mistake at the beginning; but I hope I am not the sort
+of chap you need mind sitting on a ledge with, and calling 'Jim'."
+
+For answer, Myra's cheek came trustfully to rest against the sleeve of
+the rough tweed coat. "Jim," she said; "Oh, Jim!"
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Presently: "So you know the Inglebys?" remarked Jim Airth.
+
+"Yes," said Myra.
+
+"Is 'The Lodge' near Shenstone Park?"
+
+"The Lodge is _in_ the park. It is not at any of the gates.--I am not a
+gate-keeper, Jim!--It is a pretty little house, standing by itself, just
+inside the north entrance."
+
+"Do you rent it from them?"
+
+Myra hesitated, but only for the fraction of a second. "No; it is my own.
+Lord Ingleby gave it to me."
+
+"_Lord_ Ingleby?" Jim Airth's voice sounded like knitted brows. "Why not
+_Lady_ Ingleby?"
+
+"It was not hers, to give. All that is hers, was his."
+
+"I see. Which of them did you know first?"
+
+"I have known Lady Ingleby all my life," said Myra, truthfully; "and I
+have known Lord Ingleby since his marriage."
+
+"Ah. Then he became your friend, because he married her?"
+
+Myra laughed. "Yes," she said. "I suppose so."
+
+"What's the joke?"
+
+"Only that it struck me as an amusing way of putting it; but it is
+undoubtedly true."
+
+"Have they any children?"
+
+Myra's voice shook slightly. "No, none. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Well, in the campaign, I often shared Lord Ingleby's tent; and he used
+to talk in his sleep."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"There was one name he often called and repeated."
+
+Lady Ingleby's heart stood still.
+
+"Yes?" she said, hardly breathing.
+
+"It was 'Peter'," continued Jim Airth. "The night before he was killed,
+he kept turning in his sleep and saying: 'Peter! Hullo, little Peter!
+Come here!' I thought perhaps he had a little son named Peter."
+
+"He had no son," said Lady Ingleby, controlling her voice with effort.
+"Peter was a dog of which he was very fond. Was that the only name he
+spoke?"
+
+"The only one I ever heard," replied Jim Airth.
+
+Then suddenly Lady Ingleby clasped both hands round his arm.
+
+"Jim," she whispered, brokenly, "Not once have you spoken my name. It was
+a bargain. We were to be old and intimate friends. I seem to have been
+calling you 'Jim' all my life! But you have not yet called me 'Myra,' Let
+me hear it now, please."
+
+Jim Airth laid his big hand over both of hers.
+
+"I can't," he said. "Hush! I can't. Not up here--it means too much. Wait
+until we get back to earth again. Then--Oh, I say! Can't you help?"
+
+This kind of emotion was an unknown quantity to Lady Ingleby. So was the
+wild beating of her own heart. But she knew the situation called for
+tact, and was not tactful speech always her special forte?
+
+"Jim," she said, "are you not frightfully hungry? I should be; only I had
+an enormous tea before coming out. Would you like to hear what I had for
+tea? No. I am afraid it would make you feel worse. I suppose dinner at
+the inn was over, long ago. I wonder what variation of fried fish they
+had, and whether Miss Susannah choked over a fish-bone, and had to be
+requested to leave the room. Oh, do you remember that evening? You looked
+so dismayed and alarmed, I quite thought you were going to the rescue! I
+wonder what time it is?"
+
+"We can soon tell that," said Jim Airth, cheerfully. He dived into his
+pocket, produced a matchbox which he had long been fingering turn about
+with his pipe and tobacco-pouch, struck a light, and looked at his watch.
+Myra saw the lean brown face, in the weird flare of the match. She also
+saw the horrid depth so close to them, which she had almost forgotten. A
+sense of dizziness came over her. She longed to cling to his arm; but he
+had drawn it resolutely away.
+
+"Half past ten," said Jim Airth. "Miss Murgatroyd has donned her
+night-cap. Miss Eliza has sighed: '_Good-night, summer, good-night,
+good-night_,' at her open lattice; and Susie, folding her plump hands,
+has said: '_Now I lay me_.'"
+
+Myra laughed. "And they will all be listening for you to dump out your
+big boots," she said. "That is always your 'Good-night' to the otherwise
+silent house."
+
+"No, really? Does it make a noise?" said Jim Airth, ruefully. "Never
+again----?"
+
+"Oh, but you must," said Myra. "I love--I mean _Susie_ loves the sound,
+and listens for it. Jim, that match reminds me:--why don't you smoke?
+Surely it would help the hunger, and be comfortable and cheering."
+
+Jim Airth's pipe and pouch were out in a twinkling.
+
+"Sure you don't mind? It doesn't make you sick, or give you a headache?"
+
+"No, I think I like it," said Myra. "In fact, I am sure I like it. That
+is, I like to sit beside it. No, I don't do it myself."
+
+Another match flared, and again she saw the chasm, and the nearness of
+the edge. She bore it until the pipe was drawing well. Then: "Oh, Jim,"
+she said, "I am so sorry; but I am afraid I am becoming dizzy. I feel as
+though I must fall over." She gave a half sob.
+
+Jim Airth turned, instantly alert.
+
+"Nonsense," he said, but the sharp word sounded tender. "Four good feet
+of width are as safe as forty. Change your position a bit." He put his
+arm around her, and moved her so that she leant more completely against
+the cliff at their backs. "Now forget the edge," he said, "and listen. I
+am going to tell you camp yarns, and tales of the Wild West."
+
+Then as they sat on in the darkness, Jim Airth smoked and talked,
+painting vivid word-pictures of life and adventure in other lands. And
+Myra listened, absorbed and enchanted; every moment realising more fully,
+as he unconsciously revealed it, the manly strength and honest simplicity
+of his big nature, with its fun and its fire; its huge capacity for
+enjoyment; its corresponding capacity for pain.
+
+And, as she listened, her heart said: "Oh, my cosmopolitan cowboy! Thank
+God you found no title in the book, to put you off. Thank God you found
+no name which you could 'place,' relegating its poor possessor to the
+ranks of 'society leaders' in which you would have had no share. And, oh!
+most of all, I thank God for the doctor's wise injunction: 'Leave behind
+you your own identity'!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+UNDER THE MORNING STAR
+
+
+The night wore on.
+
+Stars shone in the deep purple sky; bright watchful eyes looking down
+unwearied upon the sleeping world.
+
+The sound of the sea below fell from a roar to a murmur, and drew away
+into the distance.
+
+It was a warm June night, and very still.
+
+Jim Airth had moved along the ledge to the further end, and sat swinging
+his legs over the edge. His content was so deep and full, that ordinary
+speech seemed impossible; and silence, a glad necessity. The prospect of
+that which the future might hold in store, made the ledge too narrow to
+contain him. He sought relief in motion, and swung his long legs out into
+the darkness.
+
+It had not occurred to him to wonder at his companion's silence; the
+reason for his own had been so all-sufficient.
+
+At length he struck a match to see the time; then, turning with a smile,
+held it so that its light illumined Myra.
+
+She knelt upon the ledge, her hands pressed against the overhanging
+cliff, her head turned in terror away from it. Her face was ashen in its
+whiteness, and large tears rolled down her cheeks.
+
+Jim dropped the match, with an exclamation, and groped towards her in the
+darkness.
+
+"Dear!" he cried, "Oh, my dear, what is the matter? Selfish fool, that I
+am! I thought you were just resting, quiet and content."
+
+His groping hands found and held her.
+
+"Oh, Jim," sobbed Lady Ingleby, "I am so sorry! It is so weak and
+unworthy. But I am afraid I feel faint. The whole cliff seems to rock and
+move. Every moment I fear it will tip me over. And you seemed miles
+away!"
+
+"You _are_ faint," said Jim Airth; "and no wonder. There is nothing weak
+or unworthy about it. You have been quite splendid. It is I who have been
+a thoughtless ass. But I can't have you fainting up here. You must lie
+down at once. If I sit on the edge with my back to you, can you slip
+along behind me and lie at full length, leaning against the cliff?"
+
+"No, oh no, I couldn't!" whispered Myra. "It frightens me so horribly
+when you hang your legs over the edge, and I can't bear to touch the
+cliff. It seems worse than the black emptiness. It rocks to and fro, and
+seems to push me over. Oh, Jim! What shall I do? Help me, help me!"
+
+"You _must_ lie down," said Jim Airth, between his teeth. "Here, wait a
+minute. Move out a little way. Don't be afraid. I have hold of you. Let
+me get behind you.... That's right. Now you are not touching the cliff.
+Let me get my shoulders firmly into the hollow at this end, and my feet
+fixed at the other. There! With my back rammed into it like this, nothing
+short of an earthquake could dislodge me. Now dear--turn your back to me
+and your face to the sea and let yourself go. You will not fall over. Do
+not be afraid."
+
+Very gently, but very firmly, he drew her into his arms.
+
+Tired, frightened, faint,--Lady Ingleby was conscious at first of nothing
+save the intense relief of the sense of his great strength about her. She
+seemed to have been fighting the cliff and resisting the gaping darkness,
+until she was utterly worn out. Now she yielded to his gentle insistence,
+and sank into safety. Her cheek rested against his rough coat, and it
+seemed to her more soothing than the softest pillow. With a sigh of
+content, she folded her hands upon her breast, and he laid one of his big
+ones firmly over them both. She felt so safe, and held.
+
+Then she heard Jim Airth's voice, close to her ear.
+
+"We are not alone," he said. "You must try to sleep, dear; but first I
+want you to realise that we are not alone. Do you know what I mean? _God
+is here._ When I was a very little chap, I used to go to a Dame-school in
+the Highlands; and the old dame made me learn by heart the hundred and
+thirty-ninth psalm. I have repeated parts of it in all sorts of places of
+difficulty and danger. I am going to say my favourite verses to you now.
+Listen. 'Whither shall I go from Thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from
+Thy presence?... If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the
+uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy
+right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me;
+even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from
+Thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are
+both alike to Thee.... How precious also are Thy thoughts unto me, O God!
+how great is the sum of them. If I should count them they are more in
+number than the sand: when I awake I am still with Thee.'"
+
+The deep voice ceased. Lady Ingleby opened her eyes. "I was nearly
+asleep," she said. "How good you are, Jim."
+
+"No, I am not good," he answered. "I'm a tough chap, full of faults, and
+beset by failings. Only--if you will trust me, please God, I will never
+fail you. But now I want you to sleep; and I don't want you to think
+about me. I am merely a thing, which by God's providence is allowed to
+keep you in safety. Do you see that wonderful planet, hanging like a lamp
+in the sky? Watch it, while I tell you some lines written by an American
+woman, on the thought of that last verse."
+
+And with his cheek against her soft hair, and his strong arms firmly
+round her, Jim Airth repeated, slowly, Mrs. Beecher Stowe's matchless
+poem:
+
+        "Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
+        When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;
+        Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,
+        Dawns the sweet consciousness--I am with Thee.
+
+        "Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows,
+        The solemn hush of nature newly born;
+        Alone with Thee, in breathless adoration,
+        In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
+
+        "As in the dawning, o'er the waveless ocean,
+        The image of the morning star doth rest;
+        So in this stillness Thou beholdest only
+        Thine image in the waters of my breast.
+
+        "When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber
+        Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer;
+        Sweet the repose, beneath Thy wings o'ershadowing,
+        But sweeter still to wake, and find Thee there.
+
+        "So shall it be at last, in that bright morning
+        When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee;
+        Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight's dawning,
+        Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee!"
+
+Jim Airth's voice ceased. He waited a moment in silence.
+
+Then--"Do you like it?" he asked softly.
+
+There was no answer. Myra slept as peacefully as a little child. He could
+feel the regular motion of her quiet breathing, beneath his hand.
+
+"Thank God!" said Jim Airth, with his eyes on the morning star.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE AWAKENING
+
+
+When Lady Ingleby opened her eyes, she could not, for a moment, imagine
+where she was.
+
+Dawn was breaking over the sea. A rift of silver, in the purple sky, had
+taken the place of the morning star. She could see the silvery gleam
+reflected in the ocean.
+
+"Why am I sleeping so close to a large window?" queried her bewildered
+mind. "Or am I on a balcony?"
+
+"Why do I feel so extraordinarily strong and rested?" questioned her
+slowly awakening body.
+
+She lay quite still and considered the matter.
+
+Then looking down, she saw a large brown hand clasping both hers. Her
+head was resting in the curve of the arm to which the hand belonged. A
+strong right arm was flung over and around her. All questionings were
+solved by two short words: "Jim Airth."
+
+Lady Ingleby lay very still. She feared to break the deep spell of
+restfulness which held her. She hesitated to bring down to earth the
+exquisite sense of heaven, by which she was surrounded.
+
+As the dawn broke over the sea, a wonderful light dawned in her eyes, a
+radiance such as had never shone in those sweet eyes before. "Dear God,"
+she whispered, "am I to know the Best?"
+
+Then she gently withdrew one hand, and laid it on the hand which had
+covered both.
+
+"Jim," she said. "Jim! Look! It is day."
+
+"Yes?" came Jim Airth's voice from behind her. "Yes? _What?_ COME
+IN!--Hullo! Oh, I say!"
+
+Myra smiled into the dawning. She had already come through those first
+moments of astonished realisation. But Jim Airth awoke to the situation
+more quickly than she had done.
+
+"Hullo!" he said. "I meant to keep watch all the time; but I must have
+slept. Are you all right? Sure? No cramp? Well, I have a cramp in my left
+leg which will make me kick down the cliff in another minute, if I don't
+move it. Let me help you up.... That's the way. Now you sit safely there,
+while I get unwedged.... By Jove! I believe I've grown into the cliff,
+like a fossil ichthyosaurus. Did you ever see an ichthyosaurus? Doesn't
+it seem years since you said: 'And who is Davy Jones?' Don't you want
+some breakfast? I suppose it's about time we went home."
+
+Talking gaily all the time, Jim Airth drew up his long limbs, rubbing
+them vigorously; stretched his arms above his head; then passed his hand
+over his tumbled hair.
+
+"My wig!" he said. "What a morning! And how good to be alive!"
+
+Myra stole a look at him. His eyes were turned seaward. The same
+dawn-light was in them, as shone in her own.
+
+"Don't you want breakfast?" said Jim Airth, and pulled out his watch.
+
+"I do," said Myra, gaily. "And now I can venture to tell you what
+delicious home-made bread I had for tea. What time is it, Jim?"
+
+"Half past three. In a few minutes the sun will rise. Watch! Did you ever
+before see the dawn? Is it not wonderful? Always more of pearl and silver
+than at sunset. Look how the narrow rift has widened and spread right
+across the sky. The Monarch of Day is coming! See the little herald
+clouds, in livery of pink and gold. Now watch where the sea looks
+brightest. Ah!... There is the tip of his blood-red rim, rising out of
+the ocean. And how quickly the whole ball appears. Now see the rippling
+path of gold and crimson, a royal highway on the waters, right from the
+shore below us, to the footstool of his brilliant Majesty.... A new day
+has begun; and we have not said 'Good-morning.' Why should we? We did not
+say 'Good-night.' How ideal it would be, never to say 'Good-morning'; and
+never to say 'Good-night.' The night would be always 'good', and so would
+the morning. All life would be one grand crescendo of good--better--best.
+What? Have we found the Best? Ah, hush! I did not mean to say that
+yet.... Are you ready for the climb down? No, I can't allow any peeping
+over, and considering. If you really feel afraid of it, I will run to
+Tregarth as quickly as possible, rouse the sleeping village, bring ropes
+and men, and haul you up from the top."
+
+"I absolutely decline to be 'hauled up from the top,' or to be left here
+alone," declared Lady Ingleby.
+
+"Then the sooner we start down, the better," said Jim Airth. "I'm going
+first." He was over the edge before Myra could open her lips to
+expostulate. "Now turn round. Hold on to the ledge firmly with your
+hands, and give me your feet. Do you hear? Do as I tell you. Don't
+hesitate. It is less steep than it seemed yesterday. We are quite safe.
+Come on!... That's right."
+
+Then Lady Ingleby passed through a most terrifying five minutes, while
+she yielded in blind obedience to the strong hands beneath her, and the
+big voice which encouraged and threatened alternately.
+
+But when the descent was over and she stood on the shore beside Jim
+Airth; when together they turned and looked in silence up the path of
+glory on the rippling waters, to the blazing beauty of the rising sun,
+thankful tears rushed to Lady Ingleby's eyes.
+
+"Oh, Jim," she exclaimed, "God is good! It is so wonderful to be alive!"
+
+Then Jim Airth turned, his face transfigured, the sunlight in his eyes,
+and opened his arms. "Myra," he said. "We have found the Best."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+They walked along the shore, and up the steep street of the sleeping
+village, hand in hand like happy children.
+
+Arrived at the Moorhead Inn, they pushed open the garden gate, and
+stepped noiselessly across the sunlit lawn.
+
+The front door was firmly bolted. Jim Airth slipped round to the back,
+but returned in a minute shaking his head. Then he felt in his pocket for
+the big knife which had served them so well; pushed back the catch of the
+coffee-room window; softly raised the sash; swung one leg over, and drew
+Myra in after him.
+
+Once in the familiar room, with its mustard-pots and salt-cellars, its
+table-cloths, left on in readiness for breakfast, they both lapsed into
+fits of uncontrollable laughter; laughter the more overwhelming, because
+it had to be silent.
+
+Jim, recovering first, went off to the larder to forage for food.
+
+Lady Ingleby flew noiselessly up to her room to wash her hands, and
+smooth her hair. She returned in two minutes to find Jim, very proud of
+his success, setting out a crusty home-made loaf, a large cheese, and a
+foaming tankard of ale.
+
+Lady Ingleby longed for tea, and had never in her life drunk ale out of a
+pewter pot. But not for worlds would she have spoiled Jim Airth's boyish
+delight in the success of his raid on the larder.
+
+So they sat at the centre table, Myra in Miss Murgatroyd's place, and Jim
+in Susie's, and consumed their bread-and-cheese, and drank their beer,
+with huge appetites and prodigious enjoyment. And Jim used Miss
+Susannah's napkin, and pretended to be sentimental over it. And Myra
+reproved him, after the manner of Miss Murgatroyd reproving Susie. After
+which they simultaneously exclaimed: "Oh, my dear love!" in Miss Eliza's
+most affecting manner; then linked fingers for a wish, and could neither
+of them think of one.
+
+By the time they had finished, and cleared away, it was half past five.
+They passed into the hall together.
+
+"You must get some more sleep," said Jim Airth, authoritatively.
+
+"I will, if you wish it," whispered Myra; "but I never, in my whole life,
+felt so strong or so rested. Jim, I shall sit at your table, and pour out
+your coffee at breakfast. Let's aim to have it at nine, as usual. It will
+be such fun to watch the Murgatroyds, and to remember our cheese and
+beer. If you are down first, order our breakfasts at the same table."
+
+"All right," said Jim Airth.
+
+Myra commenced mounting the stairs, but turned on the fifth step and hung
+over the banisters to smile at him.
+
+Jim Airth reached up his hand. "How can I let you go?" he exclaimed
+suddenly.
+
+Myra leaned over, and smiled into his adoring eyes.
+
+"How can I go?" she whispered, tenderly.
+
+Jim Airth took both her hands in his. His eyes blazed up into hers.
+
+"Myra," he said, "when shall we be married?"
+
+Myra's face flamed, just as the soft white clouds had flamed when the sun
+arose. But she met the fire of his eyes without flinching.
+
+"When you will, Jim," she answered gently.
+
+"As soon as possible, then," said Jim Airth, eagerly.
+
+Myra withdrew her hands, and mounted two more steps; then turned to bend
+and whisper: "Why?"
+
+"Because," replied Jim Airth, "I do not know how to bear that there
+should be a day, or an hour, or a minute, when we cannot be together."
+
+"Ah, do you feel that, too?" whispered Myra.
+
+"Too?" cried Jim Airth. "Do _you_--Myra! Come back!"
+
+But Lady Ingleby fled up the stairs like a hare. She had not run so fast
+since she was a little child of ten. He heard her happy laugh, and the
+closing of her door.
+
+Then he unbarred the front entrance; and stepping out, stood in the
+sunshine, on the path where he had seen his Fairy-land Princess arrive.
+
+He stretched his arms over his head.
+
+"Mine!" he said. "Mine, altogether! Oh, my God! At last, I have won the
+Highest!"
+
+Then he raced down the street to the beach; and five minutes later, in
+the full strength of his vigorous manhood, he was swimming up the golden
+path, towards the rising sun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+GOLDEN DAYS
+
+
+The week which followed was one of ideal joy and holiday. Both knew,
+instinctively, that no after days could ever be quite as these first
+days. They were an experience which came not again, and must be realised
+and enjoyed with whole-hearted completeness.
+
+At first Jim Airth talked with determination of a special licence, and
+pleaded for no delay. But Lady Ingleby, usually vague to a degree on all
+questions of law or matters of business, fortunately felt doubtful as to
+whether it would be wise to be married in a name other than her own; and,
+though she might have solved the difficulty by at once revealing her
+identity to Jim Airth, she was anxious to choose her own time and place
+for this revelation, and had set her heart upon making it amid the
+surroundings of her own beautiful home at Shenstone.
+
+"You see, Jim," she urged, "I _have_ a few friends in town and at
+Shenstone, who take an interest in my doings; and I could hardly reappear
+among them married! Could I, Jim? It would seem such an unusual and
+unexpected termination to a rest-cure. Wouldn't it, Jim?"
+
+Jim Airth's big laugh brought Miss Susie to the window. It caused sad
+waste of Susannah's time, that her window looked out on the honeysuckle
+arbour.
+
+"It might make quite a run on rest-cures," said Jim Airth.
+
+"Ah, but they couldn't all meet _you_," said Myra; and the look he
+received from those sweet eyes, atoned for the vague inaccuracy of the
+rejoinder.
+
+So they agreed to have one week of this free untrammelled life, before
+returning to the world of those who knew them; and he promised to come
+and see her in her own home, before taking the final steps which should
+make her altogether his.
+
+So they went gay walks along the cliffs in the breezy sunshine; and Myra,
+clinging to Jim's arm, looked down from above upon their ledge.
+
+They revisited Horseshoe Cove at low water, and Jim Airth spent hours
+cutting the hurried niches into proper steps, so as to leave a staircase
+to the ledge, up which people, who chanced in future to be caught by the
+tide, might climb to safety. Myra sat on the beach and watched him, her
+eyes alight with tender memories; but she absolutely refused to mount
+again.
+
+"No, Jim," she said; "not until we come here on our honeymoon. Then, if
+you wish, you shall take your wife back to the place where we passed
+those wonderful hours. But not now."
+
+Jim, who expected always to have his own way, unless he was given
+excellent reasons in black and white for not having it, was about to
+expostulate and insist, when he saw tears on her lashes and a quiver of
+the sweet smiling lips, and gave in at once without further question.
+
+They hired a tent, and pitched it on the shore at Tregarth, Myra
+telegraphed for a bathing-dress, and Jim went into the sea in his
+flannels and tried to teach her to swim, holding her up beneath her chin
+and saying; "One, two! ONE, TWO!" far louder than Myra had ever had it
+said to her before. Thus, amid much splashing and laughter, Lady Ingleby
+accomplished her swim of ten yards.
+
+Miss Murgatroyd was shocked; nay, more than shocked. Miss Murgatroyd was
+scandalised! She took to her bed forthwith, expecting Miss Eliza and Miss
+Susannah to follow her example--in the spirit, if not to the letter. But,
+released from Amelia's personal supervision, romantic little Susie led
+Eliza astray; and the two took a furtive and fearful joy in seeing all
+they could of the "goings on" of the couple who had boldly converted the
+prosaic Cornish hotel into a land of excitement and romance.
+
+From the moment when on the morning after their adventure, Myra, with
+yellow roses in the belt of her white gown, had swept into the
+coffee-room at five minutes past nine, saying: "My dear Jim, have I kept
+you waiting? I hope the coffee is not cold?"--all life had seemed
+transformed to Miss Susie. Turning quickly, she had caught the look Jim
+Airth gave to the lovely woman who took her place opposite him at his
+hitherto lonely table, and, still smiling into his eyes, lifted the
+coffee-pot.
+
+Amelia's stern whisper had recalled her to her senses, and prevented any
+further glancing round; but she had heard Myra say: "I forgot your sugar,
+Jim. One lump, or two?" and Jim Airth's reply: "As usual, thanks, dear,"
+not knowing, that with a silent twinkle of fun, he laid an envelope over
+his cup, as a sign to Myra, waiting with poised sugar-tongs, that "as
+usual" meant no sugar at all!
+
+Later on, when she one day met Lady Ingleby alone in a passage, Miss
+Susannah ventured two hurried questions.
+
+"Oh, tell me, my dear! Is it _really_ true that you are going to marry
+Mr. Airth? And have you known him long?"
+
+And Myra smiling down into Susie's plump anxious face replied: "Well, as
+a matter of fact, Miss Susannah, Jim Airth is going to marry _me_. And I
+cannot explain how long I have known him. I seem to have known him all my
+life."
+
+"Ah," whispered Miss Susannah with a knowing smile of conscious
+perspicacity; "Eliza and I felt sure it was a tiff."
+
+This remark appeared absolutely incomprehensible to Lady Ingleby; and not
+until she had repeated it to Jim, and he had shouted with laughter, and
+called her a bare-faced deceiver, did she realise that the "tiff" was
+supposed to have been operative during the whole time she and Jim Airth
+had sat at separate tables, and showed no signs of acquaintance.
+
+However, she smiled kindly into the archly nodding face. Then, in the
+consciousness of her own great happiness, enveloped little Susie in her
+beautiful arms, and kissed her.
+
+Miss Susannah never forgot that embrace. It was to her a reflected
+realisation of what it must be to be loved by Jim Airth. And, thereafter,
+whenever Miss Murgatroyd saw fit to use such adjectives as "indecent,"
+"questionable," or "highly improper," Miss Susie bravely gathered up her
+wool-work, and left the room.
+
+Thus the golden days went by, and a letter came for Jim Airth from Lady
+Ingleby's secretary. Her ladyship was away at present but would be
+returning to Shenstone on the following Monday, and would be pleased to
+give him an interview on Tuesday afternoon. The two o'clock express from
+Charing Cross would be met at Shenstone station, unless he wrote
+suggesting another.
+
+"Now that is very civil," said Jim to Myra, as he passed her the letter,
+"and how well it suits our plans. We had already arranged both to go up
+to town on Monday, and you on to Shenstone. So I can come down by that
+two o'clock train on Tuesday, get my interview with Lady Ingleby over as
+quickly as may be, and dash off to my girl at the Lodge. I hope to
+goodness she won't want to give me tea!"
+
+"Which 'she'?" asked Myra, smiling. "_I_ shall certainly want to give you
+tea."
+
+"Then I shall decline Lady Ingleby's," said Jim with decision.
+
+Even during those wonderful days he went on steadily with his book, Myra
+sitting near him in the smoking-room, writing letters or reading, while
+he worked. "I do better work if you are within reach, or at all events,
+within sight," Jim had said; and it was impossible that Lady Ingleby's
+mind should not have contrasted the thrill of pleasure this gave her,
+with the old sense of being in the way if work was to be done; and of
+being shut out from the chief interests of Michael's life, by the closing
+of the laboratory door. Ah, how different from the way in which Jim
+already made her a part of himself, enfolding her into his every
+interest.
+
+She wrote fully of her happiness to Mrs. Dalmain, telling her in detail
+the unusual happenings which had brought it so rapidly to pass. Also a
+few lines to her old friend the Duchess of Meldrum, merely announcing the
+fact of her engagement and the date of her return to Shenstone, promising
+full particulars later. This letter held also a message for Ronald and
+Billy, should they chance to be at Overdene.
+
+Sunday evening, their last at Tregarth, came all too soon. They went to
+the little church together, sitting among the simple fisher folk at
+Evensong. As they looked over one hymn book, and sang "Eternal Father,
+strong to save," both thought of "Davy Jones" in the middle of the hymn,
+and had to exchange a smile; yet with an instant added reverence of
+petition and thanksgiving.
+
+               "Thus evermore, shall rise to Thee,
+               Glad hymns of praise from land and sea."
+
+Jim Airth's big bass boomed through the little church; and Myra, close to
+his shoulder, sang with a face so radiant that none could doubt the
+reality of her praise.
+
+Then back to a cold supper at the Moorhead Inn; after which they strolled
+out to the honeysuckle arbour for Jim's evening pipe, and a last quiet
+talk.
+
+It was then that Jim Airth said, suddenly: "By the way I wish you would
+tell me more about Lady Ingleby. What kind of a woman is she? Easy to
+talk to?"
+
+For a moment Myra was taken aback. "Why, Jim--I hardly know. Easy? Yes, I
+think _you_ will find her easy to talk to."
+
+"Does she speak of her husband's death, or is it a tabooed subject?"
+
+"She speaks of it," said Myra, softly, "to those who can understand."
+
+"Ah! Do you suppose she will like to hear details of those last days?"
+
+"Possibly; if you feel inclined to give them, Jim--do you know who did
+it?"
+
+A surprised silence in the arbour. Jim removed his pipe, and looked at
+her.
+
+"Do I know--who--did--what?" he asked slowly.
+
+"Do you know the name of the man who made the mistake which killed Lord
+Ingleby?"
+
+Jim returned his pipe to his mouth.
+
+"Yes, dear, I do," he said, quietly. "But how came you to know of the
+blunder? I thought the whole thing was hushed up, at home."
+
+"It was," said Myra; "but Lady Ingleby was told, and I heard it then.
+Jim, if she asked you the name, should you tell her?"
+
+"Certainly I should," replied Jim Airth. "I was strongly opposed, from
+the first, to any mystery being made about it. I hate a hushing-up
+policy. But there was the fellow's future to consider. The world never
+lets a thing of that sort drop. He would always have been pointed out as
+'The chap who killed Ingleby'--just as if he had done it on purpose; and
+every man of us knew that would be a millstone round the neck of any
+career. And then the whole business had been somewhat irregular; and 'the
+powers that be' have a way of taking all the kudos, if experiments are
+successful; and making a what-on-earth-were-you-dreaming-of row, if they
+chance to be a failure. Hence the fact that we are all such
+stick-in-the-muds, in the service. Nobody dares be original. The risks
+are too great, and too astonishingly unequal. If you succeed, you get a
+D.S.O. from a grateful government, and a laurel crown from an admiring
+nation. If you fail, an indignant populace derides your name, and a
+pained and astonished government claps you into jail. That's not the way
+to encourage progress, or make fellows prompt to take the initiative. The
+right or the wrong of an action should not be determined by its success
+or failure."
+
+Lady Ingleby's mind had paused at the beginning of Jim's tirade.
+
+"They could not have taken Michael's kudos," she said. "It must have been
+patented. He was always most careful to patent all his inventions."
+
+"Eh, what?" said Jim Airth. "Oh, I see. 'Kudos,' my dear girl, means
+'glory'; not a new kind of explosive. And why do you call Lord Ingleby
+'Michael'?"
+
+"I knew him intimately," said Lady Ingleby.
+
+"I see. Well, as I was saying, I protested about the hushing up, but was
+talked over; and the few who knew the facts pledged their word of honour
+to keep silence. Only, the name was to be given to Lady Ingleby, if she
+desired to know it; and some of us thought you might as well put it in
+_The Times_ at once, as tell a woman. Then we heard she had decided not
+to know."
+
+"What do you think of her decision?" asked Lady Ingleby.
+
+"I think it proved her to be a very just-minded woman, and a very unusual
+one, if she keeps to it. But it would be rather like a woman, to make a
+fine decision such as that during the tension of a supreme moment, and
+then indulge in private speculation afterwards."
+
+"Did you hear her reason, Jim? She said she did not wish that a man
+should walk this earth, whose hand she could not bring herself to touch
+in friendship."
+
+"Poor loyal soul!" said Jim Airth, greatly moved. "Myra, if _I_ got
+accidentally done for, as Ingleby was,--should _you_ feel so, for my
+sake?"
+
+"No!" cried Myra, passionately. "If I lost _you_, my beloved, I should
+never want to touch any other man's hand, in friendship or otherwise, as
+long as I lived!"
+
+"Ah," mused Jim Airth. "Then you don't consider Lady Ingleby's reason for
+her decision proved a love such as ours?"
+
+Myra laid her beautiful head against his shoulder.
+
+"Jim," she said, brokenly, "I do not feel myself competent to discuss any
+other love. One thing only is clear to me;--I never realised what love
+meant, until I knew _you_."
+
+A long silence in the honeysuckle arbour.
+
+Then Jim Airth cried almost fiercely to the woman in his arms: "Can you
+really think you have been right to keep me waiting, even for a day?"
+
+And she who loved him with a love beyond expression could frame no words
+in answer to that question. Thus it came to pass that, in the days to
+come, it was there, unanswered; ready to return and beat upon her brain
+with merciless reiteration: "Was I right to keep him waiting, even for a
+day."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the hall, beside the marble table, where lay the visitors' book, they
+paused to say good-night. From the first, Myra had never allowed him up
+the stairs until her door was closed. "If you don't keep the rules I
+think it right to make, Jim," she had said, with her little tender smile,
+"I shall, in self-defence, engage Miss Murgatroyd as chaperon; and what
+sort of a time would you have then?"
+
+So Jim was pledged to remain below until her door had been shut five
+minutes. After which he used to tramp up the stairs whistling:
+
+                "A long long life, to my sweet wife,
+                And mates at sea;
+                And keep our bones from Davy Jones,
+                Where'er we be.
+                And may you meet a mate as sweet----"
+
+Then his door would bang, and Myra would venture to give vent to her
+suppressed laughter, and to sing a soft little
+
+                  "Yeo ho! we go!--Yeo ho! Yeo ho!"
+
+for sheer overflowing happiness.
+
+But this was the last evening. A parting impended. Also there had been
+tense moments in the honeysuckle arbour.
+
+Jim's blue eyes were mutinous. He stood holding her hands against his
+breast, as he had done in Horseshoe Cove, when the waves swept round
+their feet, and he had cried: "You _must_ climb!"
+
+"So to-morrow night," he said, "you will be at the Lodge, Shenstone; and
+I, at my Club in town. Do you know how hard it is to be away from you,
+even for an hour? Do you realise that if you had not been so obstinate we
+never need have been parted at all? We could have gone away from here,
+husband and wife together. If you had really cared, you wouldn't have
+wanted to wait."
+
+Myra smiled up into his angry eyes.
+
+"Jim," she whispered, "it is _so_ silly to say: '_If_ you had really
+cared'; because you know, perfectly well, that I care for you, more than
+any woman in the world has ever cared for any man before! And I do assure
+you, Jim, that you couldn't have married me _validly_ from here--and
+think how awful it would be, to love as much as we love and then find out
+that we were not _validly_ married--and when you come to my home, and
+fetch me away from there, you will admit--yes really _admit_--that I was
+right. You will have to apologise humbly for having said 'Bosh!' so
+often. Jim--dearest! Look at the clock! I _must_ go. Poor Miss Murgatroyd
+will grow so tired of listening for us. She always leaves her door a
+crack open. So does Miss Susannah. They have all taken to sleeping with
+their doors ajar. I deftly led the conversation round to riddles
+yesterday, when I was alone with them for a few minutes, and asked
+sternly: 'When is a door, not a door?' They all answered: 'When it is a
+jar!' quite unabashed; and Miss Eliza asked another! I believe Susie
+stands at her crack, in the darkness, in hopes of seeing you march by....
+No, don't say naughty words. They are dears, all three of them; and we
+shall miss them horribly to-morrow. Oh, Jim--I've just had such a
+brilliant idea! I shall ask them to be my bridesmaids! Can't you see them
+following me up the aisle? It would be worse than the duchess giving Jane
+away. Ah, you don't know that story? I will tell it you, some day. Jim,
+say 'Good-night' quickly, and let me go."
+
+"Once," said Jim Airth, tightening his grasp on her wrists--"once, Myra,
+we said no 'good-night,' and no 'good-morning.'"
+
+"Jim, darling!" said Myra, gently; "on that night, before I went to
+sleep, you said to me: 'We are not alone. _God is here_.' And then you
+repeated part of the hundred and thirty-ninth psalm. And, Jim--I thought
+you the best and strongest man I had ever known; and I felt that, all my
+life, I should trust you, as I trusted my God."
+
+Jim Airth loosed the hands he had held so tightly, and kissed them very
+gently. "Good-night, my sweetheart," he said, "and God bless you!" Then
+he turned away to the marble table.
+
+Myra ran swiftly up the stairs and closed her door.
+
+Then she knelt beside her bed, and sobbed uncontrollably; partly for joy,
+and partly for sorrow. The unanswered question commenced its reiteration:
+"Ah, was I right to keep him waiting?"
+
+Presently she lifted her head, held her breath, and stared into the
+darkness. A vision seemed to pass across her room. A tall, bearded man,
+in evening clothes. In his arms a tiny dog, peeping at her through its
+curls, as if to say: "_I_ have the better place. Where do _you_ come in?"
+The tall man turned at the door. "Good-night, my dear Myra," he said,
+kindly.
+
+The vision passed.
+
+Lady Ingleby buried her face in the bedclothes. "That--for ten long
+years!" she said. Then, in the darkness, she saw the mutinous fire of Jim
+Airth's blue eyes, and felt the grip of his strong hands on hers. "How
+can I say 'Good-night'?" protested his deep voice, passionately. And,
+with a rush of happy tears, Myra clasped her hands, whispering: "Dear
+God, am I at last to know the Best?"
+
+And up the stairs came Jim Airth, whistling like a nightingale. But, as a
+concession to Miss Murgatroyd's ideas concerning suitable Sabbath music,
+he discarded "Nancy Lee," and whistled:
+
+               "Eternal Father, strong to save,
+               Whose arm hath bound the restless wave;
+               Who bidst the mighty ocean deep,
+               Its own appointed limits keep,
+               O hear us, when we cry to Thee----"
+
+And, kneeling beside her bed, in the darkness, Myra made of it her
+evening prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+"WHERE IS LADY INGLEBY?"
+
+
+When Jim Airth left the train on the following Tuesday afternoon, he
+looked eagerly up and down the platform, hoping to see Myra. True, they
+had particularly arranged not to meet, until after his interview with
+Lady Ingleby. But Myra was so charmingly inconsequent and impulsive in
+her actions. It would be quite like her to reverse the whole plan they
+had made; and, if her desire to see him, in any measure resembled his
+huge hunger for a sight of her, he could easily understand such a
+reversal.
+
+However, Myra was not there; and with a heavy sense of unreasonable
+disappointment, Jim Airth chucked his ticket to a waiting porter, passed
+through the little station, and found a smart turn-out, with tandem
+ponies, waiting outside.
+
+The groom at the leader's head touched his hat.
+
+"For Shenstone Park, sir?"
+
+"Yes," said Jim Airth, and climbed in.
+
+The groom touched his hat again. "Her ladyship said, sir, that perhaps
+you might like to drive the ponies yourself, sir."
+
+"No, thank you," said Jim Airth, shortly. "I never drive other people's
+ponies."
+
+The groom's comprehending grin was immediately suppressed. He touched his
+hat again; gathered up the reins, mounted the driver's seat, flicked the
+leader, and the perfectly matched ponies swung at once into a fast trot.
+
+Jim Airth, a connoisseur in horse-flesh, eyed them with approval. They
+flew along the narrow Surrey lanes, between masses of wild roses and
+clematis. The villagers were working in the hayfields, shouting gaily to
+one another as they tossed the hay. It was a matchless June day, in a
+perfect English summer.
+
+Jim Airth's disappointment at Myra's non-appearance, was lifting rapidly
+in the enjoyment of the drive. After all it was best to adhere to plans
+once made; and every step of these jolly little tapping hoofs was
+bringing him nearer to the Lodge. Perhaps she would be at the window. (He
+had particularly told her _not_ to be!)
+
+"These ponies have been well handled," he remarked approvingly to the
+groom, as they flew round a bend.
+
+"Yes, sir," said the groom, with the inevitable movement towards his hat,
+whip and hand going up together. "Her ladyship always drives them
+herself, sir. Fine whip, her ladyship, sir."
+
+This item of information surprised Jim Airth. Judging by Lord Ingleby's
+age and appearance, he had expected to find Lady Ingleby a sedate and
+stately matron of sixty. It was somewhat surprising to hear of her as a
+fine whip.
+
+However, he had no time to weigh the matter further. Passing an ivy-clad
+church on the village green, they swung through massive iron gates, of
+very fine design, and entered the stately avenue of Shenstone Park. To
+the left, in a group of trees, stood a pretty little gabled house.
+
+"What house is that?" asked Jim Airth, quickly.
+
+"The Lodge, sir."
+
+"Who lives there?"
+
+"Mrs. O'Mara, sir."
+
+"Has Mrs. O'Mara returned?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. She was up at the house with her ladyship this
+morning."
+
+"Then she _has_ returned," said Jim Airth.
+
+The groom looked perplexed, but made no comment.
+
+Jim Airth turned in his seat, and looked back at the Lodge. It was a far
+smaller house than he had expected. This fact did not seem to depress
+him. He smiled to himself, as at some thought which gave him amusement
+and pleasure. While he still looked back, a side door opened; a neatly
+dressed woman in black, apparently a superior lady's-maid, appeared on
+the doorstep, shook out a white table-cloth, and re-entered the house.
+
+They flew on up the avenue, Jim Airth noting every tree with appreciation
+and pleasure. The fine old house came into view, and a moment later they
+drew up at the entrance.
+
+"Good driving," remarked Jim Airth approvingly, as he tipped the little
+groom. Then he turned, to find the great doors already standing wide, and
+a stately butler, with immense black eyebrows, waiting to receive him.
+
+"Will you come to her ladyship's sitting-room, sir?" said the butler, and
+led the way.
+
+Jim Airth entered a charmingly appointed room, and looked around.
+
+It was empty.
+
+"Kindly wait here, sir, while I acquaint her ladyship with your arrival,"
+said the pompous person with the eyebrows, and went out noiselessly,
+closing the door behind him.
+
+Left alone, Jim Airth commenced taking rapid note of the room, hoping to
+gain therefrom some ideas as to the tastes and character of its
+possessor. But almost immediately his attention was arrested by a
+life-size portrait of Lord Ingleby, hanging above the mantelpiece.
+
+Jim Airth walked over to the hearthrug, and stood long, looking with
+silent intentness at the picture.
+
+"Excellent," he said to himself, at last. "Extraordinarily clever. That
+chap shall paint Myra, if I can lay hands on him. What a jolly little
+dog! And what devotion! Mutual and absorbing. I suppose that is Peter.
+Queer to think that I should have been the last to hear him calling
+Peter. I wonder whether Lady Ingleby liked Peter. If not, I doubt if she
+would have had much of a look-in. If anyone went to the wall it certainly
+wasn't Peter."
+
+He was still absorbed in the picture, when the butler returned with a
+long message, solemnly delivered.
+
+"Her ladyship is out in the grounds, sir. As it is so warm in the house,
+sir, her ladyship requests that you come to her in the grounds. If you
+will allow me, sir, I will show you the way."
+
+Jim Airth restrained an inclination to say: "Buck up!" and followed the
+butler along a corridor, down a wide staircase to a lower hall. They
+stepped out on to a terrace running the full length of the house. Below
+it, an old-fashioned garden, with box borders, bright flower beds, a
+fountain in the centre. Beyond this a smooth lawn, sloping down to a
+beautiful lake, which sparkled and gleamed in the afternoon sunshine. On
+this lawn, well to the right, half-way between the house and the water,
+stood a group of beeches. Beneath their spreading boughs, in the cool
+inviting shadow, were some garden chairs. Jim Airth could just discern,
+in one of these, the white gown of a woman, holding a scarlet parasol.
+
+The butler indicated this clump of trees.
+
+"Her ladyship said, sir, that she would await you under the beeches."
+
+He returned to the house, and Jim Airth was left to make his way alone to
+Lady Ingleby, guided by the gleam among the trees of her brilliant
+parasol. Even at that moment it gave him pleasure to find Lady Ingleby's
+taste in sunshades, resembling Myra's.
+
+He stood for a minute on the terrace, taking in the matchless beauty of
+the place. Then his face grew sad and stern. "What a home to leave," he
+said; "and to leave it, never to return!"
+
+He still wore a look of sadness as he descended the steps leading to the
+flower garden, made his way along the narrow gravel paths; then stepped
+on to the soft turf of the lawn, and walked towards the clump of
+beeches.
+
+Jim Airth--tall and soldierly, broad-shouldered and erect--might have
+made an excellent impression upon Lady Ingleby, had she watched his
+coming. But she kept her parasol between herself and her approaching
+guest.
+
+In fact he drew quite near; near enough to distinguish the ripples of
+soft lace about, her feet, the long graceful sweep of her gown; and still
+she seemed unconscious of his close proximity.
+
+He passed beneath the beeches and stood before her. And, even then, the
+parasol concealed her face.
+
+But Jim Airth was never at a loss, when sure of his ground. "Lady
+Ingleby," he said, with grave formality; "I was told to----"
+
+Then the parasol was flung aside, and he found himself looking down into
+the lovely laughing eyes of Myra.
+
+To see Jim Airth's face change from its look of formal gravity to one of
+rapturous delight, was to Myra well worth the long effort of sitting
+immovable. He flung himself down before her with boyish abandon, and
+clasped both herself and her chair in his long arms.
+
+"Oh, you darling!" he said, bending his face over hers, while his blue
+eyes danced with delight. "Oh, Myra, what centuries since yesterday! How
+I have longed for you. I almost hoped you would after all have come to
+the station. How I have grudged wasting all this time in coming to call
+on old Lady Ingleby. Myra, has it seemed long to you? Do you realise, my
+dear girl, that it _can't_ go on any longer; that we cannot possibly live
+through another twenty-four hours of separation? But oh, you Tease! There
+was I, ramping with impatience at every wasted moment; and here were you,
+sitting under this tree, hiding your face and pretending to be Lady
+Ingleby! The astonished and astonishing old party in the eyebrows,
+certainly pointed you out as Lady Ingleby when he started me off on my
+pilgrimage. I say, how lovely you look! What billowy softness! It
+wouldn't do for cliff-climbing; but its A.I. for sitting on lawns.... I
+can't help it! I must!"
+
+"Jim," said Myra, laughing and pushing him away; "what has come to you,
+you dearest old boy? You will really have to behave! We are not in the
+honeysuckle arbour. 'The astonishing old party in the eyebrows' is most
+likely observing us from a window, and will have good cause to look
+astonished, if he sees you 'carrying on' in such a manner. Jim, how nice
+you look in your town clothes. I always like a grey frock-coat. Stand up,
+and let me see.... Oh, look at the green of the turf on those immaculate
+knees! What a pity. Did you don all this finery for me?"
+
+"Of course not, silly!" said Jim Airth, rubbing his knees vigorously.
+"When I haul you up cliffs, I wear old Norfolk coats; and when I duck you
+in the sea, I wear flannels. I considered this the correct attire in
+which to pay a formal call on Lady Ingleby; and now, before she has had a
+chance of being duly impressed by it, I have spoilt my knees hopelessly,
+worshipping at your shrine! Where is Lady Ingleby? Why doesn't she keep
+her appointments?"
+
+"Jim," said Myra, looking up at him with eyes full of unspeakable love,
+yet dancing with excitement and delight; "Jim, do you admire this
+place?"
+
+"This place?" cried Jim, stepping back a pace, so as to command a good
+view of the lake and woods beyond. "It is absolutely perfect. We have
+nothing like this in Scotland. You can't beat for all round beauty a real
+old mellow lived-in English country seat; especially when you get a
+twenty acre lake, with islands and swans, all complete. And I suppose the
+woods beyond, as far as one can see, belong to the Inglebys--or rather,
+to Lady Ingleby. What a pity there is no son."
+
+"Jim," said Myra, "I have so looked forward to showing you my home."
+
+He stepped close to her at once. "Then show it to me, dear," he said. "I
+would rather be alone with you in your own little home--I saw it, as we
+drove up--than waiting about, in this vast expanse of beauty, for Lady
+Ingleby."
+
+"Jim," said Myra, "do you remember a little tune I often hummed down in
+Cornwall; and, when you asked me what it was, I said you should hear the
+words some day?"
+
+Jim looked puzzled. "Really dear--you hummed so many little tunes----"
+
+"Oh, I know," said Myra; "and I have not much ear. But this was very
+special. I want to sing it to you now. Listen!"
+
+And looking up at him, her soft eyes full of love, Myra sang, with slight
+alterations of her own, the last verse of the old Scotch ballad,
+"Huntingtower."
+
+               "Blair in Athol's mine, Jamie,
+               Fair Dunkeld is mine, laddie;
+               Saint Johnstown's bower,
+               And Huntingtower,
+               And all that's mine, is thine, laddie."
+
+"Very pretty," said Jim, "but you've mixed it, my dear. Jamie bestowed
+all his possessions on the lassie. You sang it the wrong way round."
+
+"No, no," cried Myra, eagerly. "There _is_ no wrong way round. Providing
+they both love, it does not really matter which gives. The one who
+happens to possess, bestows. If you were a cowboy, Jim, and you loved a
+woman with lands and houses, in taking her, you would take all that was
+hers."
+
+"I guess I'd take her out to my ranch and teach her to milk cows,"
+laughed Jim Airth. Then turning about under the tree and looking in all
+directions: "But seriously, Myra, where is Lady Ingleby? She should keep
+her appointments. We cannot waste our whole afternoon waiting here. I
+want my girl; and I want her in her own little home, alone. Cannot we
+find Lady Ingleby?"
+
+Then Myra rose, radiant, and came and stood before him. The sunbeams
+shone through the beech leaves and danced in her grey eyes. She had never
+looked more perfect in her sweet loveliness. The man took it all in, and
+the glory of possession lighted his handsome face.
+
+She came and stood before him, laying her hands upon his breast. He
+wrapped his arms lightly about her. He saw she had something to say; and
+he waited.
+
+"Jim," said Myra, "Jim, dearest. There is just one name I want to bear,
+more than any other. There is just one thing I long to be. Then I
+shall be content. I want to have the right to be called 'Mrs. Jim
+Airth.' I want more than all else beside, to be your wife. But--until
+I am that; and may it be very soon! until you make me 'Mrs. Jim
+Airth'--dearest--_I_--am Lady Ingleby."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+UNDER THE BEECHES AT SHENSTONE
+
+
+Jim Airth's arms fell slowly to his sides. He still looked into those
+happy, loving eyes, but the joy in his own died out, leaving them merely
+cold blue steel. His face slowly whitened, hardened, froze into lines of
+silent misery. Then he moved back a step, and Myra's hands fell from
+him.
+
+"_You_--'Lady Ingleby'?" he said.
+
+Myra gazed at him, in unspeakable dismay.
+
+"Jim!" she cried, "Jim, dearest! Why should you mind it so much?"
+
+She moved forward, and tried to take his hand.
+
+"Don't touch me!" he said, sharply. Then: "_You_, Myra? You! Lord
+Ingleby's widow?"
+
+The furious misery of his voice stung Myra. Why should he resent the
+noble name she bore, the high rank which was hers? Even if it placed her
+socially far above him, had she not just expressed her readiness--her
+longing--to resign all, for him? Had not her love already placed him on
+the topmost pinnacle of her regard? Was it generous, was it worthy of Jim
+Airth to take her disclosure thus?
+
+She moved towards the chairs, with gentle dignity.
+
+"Let us sit down, Jim, and talk it over," she said, quietly. "I do not
+think you need find it so overwhelming a matter as you seem to imagine.
+Let me tell you all about it; or rather, suppose you ask me any questions
+you like."
+
+Jim Airth sat blindly down upon the chair farthest from her, put his
+elbows on his knees, and sank his face into his hands.
+
+Without any comment, Myra rose; moved her chair close enough to enable
+her to lay her hand upon his arm, should she wish to do so; sat down
+again, and waited in silence.
+
+Jim Airth had but one question to ask. He asked it, without lifting his
+head.
+
+"Who is Mrs. O'Mara?"
+
+"She is the widow of Sergeant O'Mara who fell at Targai. We both lost our
+husbands in that disaster, Jim. She had been for many years my
+maid-attendant. When she married the sergeant, a fine soldier whom
+Michael held in high esteem, I wished still to keep her near me. Michael
+had given me the Lodge to do with as I pleased. I put them into it. She
+lives there still. Oh, Jim dearest, try to realise that I have not said
+one word to you which was not completely truthful! Let me explain how I
+came to be in Cornwall under her name instead of my own. If I might put
+my hand in yours, Jim, I could tell you more easily.... No? Very well;
+never mind.
+
+"After I received the telegram last November telling me of my husband's
+death, I had a very bad nervous breakdown. I do not think it was caused
+so much by my loss, as by a prolonged mental strain, which had preceded
+it. Just as I had moved to town and was getting better, full details
+arrived, and I had to be told that it had been an accident. You know all
+about the question as to whether I should hear the name or not. You also
+know my decision. The worry of this threw me back. What you said in the
+arbour was perfectly true. I _am_ a woman, Jim; often, a weak one; and I
+was very much alone. I decided rightly, in a supreme moment--possibly you
+may know who it was who graciously undertook to bring me the news from
+the War Office--but, afterwards, I began to wonder; I allowed myself to
+guess. Men from the front came home. My surmisings circled ceaselessly
+around two--dear fellows, of whom I was really fond. At last I felt
+convinced I knew, by intangible yet unmistakable signs, which was he who
+had done it. I grew quite sure. And then--I hardly know how to tell you,
+Jim--of all impossible horrors! The man who had killed Michael wanted to
+marry _me_!--Oh, don't groan, darling; you make me so unhappy! But I do
+not wonder you find it difficult to believe. He cared very much, poor
+boy; and I suppose he thought that, as I should remain in ignorance, the
+_fact_ need not matter. It seems hard to understand; but a man in love
+sometimes loses all sense of proportion--at least so I once heard someone
+say; or words to that effect. I did not allow it ever to reach the point
+of an actual proposal; but I felt I must flee away. There were
+others--and it was terrible to me. I loved none of them; and I had made
+up my mind never to marry again unless I found my ideal. Oh, Jim!"
+
+She laid her hand upon his knee. It might have been a falling leaf, for
+all the sign he gave. She left it there, and went on speaking.
+
+"People gossiped. Society papers contained constant trying paragraphs.
+Even my widow's weeds were sketched and copied. My nerves grew worse.
+Life seemed unendurable.
+
+"At last I consulted a great specialist, who is also a trusted friend. He
+ordered me a rest-cure. Not to be shut up within four walls with my own
+worries, but to go right away alone; to leave my own identity, and all
+appertaining thereto, completely behind; to go to a place to which I had
+never before been, where I knew no one, and should not be known; to live
+in the open air; fare simply; rise early, retire early; but, above all,
+as he quaintly said: 'Leave Lady Ingleby behind.'
+
+"I followed his advice to the letter. He is not a man one can disobey. I
+did not like the idea of taking a fictitious name, so I decided to be
+'Mrs. O'Mara,' and naturally entered her address in the visitors' book,
+as well as her name.
+
+"Oh, that evening of arrival! You were quite right, Jim. I felt just a
+happy child, entering a new world of beauty and delight--all holiday and
+rest.
+
+"And then--I saw you! And, oh my beloved, I think almost from the first
+moment my soul flew to you, as to its unquestioned mate! Your vitality
+became my source of vigour; your strength filled and upheld everything in
+me which had been weak and faltering. I owed you much, before we had
+really spoken. Afterwards, I owed you life itself, and love, and
+all--ALL, Jim!"
+
+Myra paused, silently controlling her emotion; then, bending forward,
+laid her lips upon the roughness of his hair. It might have been the
+stirring of the breeze, for all the sign he made.
+
+"When I found at first that you had come from the war, when I realised
+that you must have known Michael, I praised the doctor's wisdom in making
+me drop my own name. Also the Murgatroyds would have known it
+immediately, and I should have had no peace, As it was, Miss Murgatroyd
+occasionally held forth in the sitting-room concerning 'poor dear Lady
+Ingleby,' whom she gave us to understand she knew intimately. And
+then--oh, Jim! when I came to know my cosmopolitan cowboy; when he told
+me he hated titles and all that appertained to them; then indeed I
+blessed the moment when I had writ myself down plain 'Mrs. O'Mara'; and I
+resolved not to tell him of my title until he loved me enough not to mind
+it, or wanted me enough, to change me at once from Lady Ingleby of
+Shenstone Park, into plain Mrs. Jim Airth of--anywhere he chooses to take
+me!
+
+"Now you will understand why I felt I could not marry you validly in
+Cornwall; and I wanted--was it selfish?--I wanted the joy of revealing my
+own identity when I had you, at last, in my own beautiful home. Oh, my
+dear--my dear! Cannot our love stand the test of so light a thing as
+this?"
+
+She ceased speaking and waited.
+
+She was sure of her victory; but it seemed strange, in dealing with so
+fine a nature as that of the man she loved, that she should have had to
+fight so hard over what appeared to her a paltry matter. But she knew
+false pride often rose gigantic about the smallest things; the very
+unworthiness of the cause seeming to add to the unreasonable growth of
+its dimensions.
+
+She was deeply hurt; but she was a woman, and she loved him. She waited
+patiently to see his love for her arise victorious over unworthy pride.
+
+At last Jim Airth stood up.
+
+"I cannot face it yet," he said, slowly. "I must be alone. I ought to
+have known from the very first that you were--are--Lady Ingleby. I am
+very sorry that you should have to suffer for that which is no fault of
+your own. I must--go--now. In twenty-four hours, I will come back to talk
+it over."
+
+He turned, without another word; without a touch; without a look. He
+swung round on his heel, and walked away across the lawn.
+
+Myra's dismayed eyes could scarcely follow him.
+
+He mounted the terrace; passed into the house. A door closed.
+
+Jim Airth was gone!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+"SURELY YOU KNEW?"
+
+
+Myra Ingleby rose and wended her way slowly towards the house.
+
+A stranger meeting her would probably have noticed nothing amiss with the
+tall graceful woman, whose pallor might well have been due to the unusual
+warmth of the day.
+
+But the heart within her was dying.
+
+Her joy had received a mortal wound. The man she adored, with a love
+which had placed him at the highest, was slowly slipping from his
+pedestal, and her hands were powerless to keep him there.
+
+A woman may drag her own pride in the dust, and survive the process; but
+when the man she loves falls, then indeed her heart dies within her.
+
+She had loved to call Jim Airth a cowboy. She knew him to be avowedly
+cosmopolitan. But was he also a slave to vulgar pride? Being plain Jim
+Airth himself, did he grudge noble birth and ancient lineage to those to
+whom they rightfully belonged? Professing to scorn titles, did he really
+set upon them so exaggerated a value, that he would turn from the woman
+he was about to wed, merely because she owned a title, while he had
+none?
+
+Myra, entering the house, passed to her sitting-room. Green awnings
+shaded the windows. The fireplace was banked with ferns and lilies. Bowls
+of roses stood about; while here and there pots of growing freesias
+poured their delicate fragrance around.
+
+Myra crossed to the hearthrug and stood gazing up at the picture of Lord
+Ingleby. The gentle refinement of the scholarly face seemed accentuated
+by the dim light. Lady Ingleby dwelt in memory upon the consistent
+courtesy of the dead man's manner; his unfailing friendliness and
+equability to all; courteous to men of higher rank, considerate to those
+of lower; genial to rich and poor alike.
+
+"Oh, Michael," she whispered, "have I been unfaithful? Have I forgotten
+how good you were?"
+
+But still her heart died within her. The man who had stalked across the
+lawn, leaving her without a touch or look, held it in the hollow of his
+hand.
+
+A dog-cart clattered up to the portico. Men's voices sounded in the hall.
+Tramping feet hurried along the corridor. Then Billy's excited young
+voice cried, "May we come in?" followed by Ronnie's deeper tones, "If we
+shall not be in the way?" The next moment she was grasping a hand of
+each.
+
+"You dear boys!" she said. "I have never been more glad to see you! Do
+sit down; or have you come to play tennis?"
+
+"We have come to see _you_, dear Queen," said Billy. "We are staying at
+Overdene. The duchess had your letter. She told us the great news; also,
+that you were returning yesterday. So we came over to--to----"
+
+"To congratulate," said Ronald Ingram; and he said it heartily and
+bravely.
+
+"Thank you," said Myra, smiling at them, but her sweet voice was
+tremulous. These first congratulations, coming just now, were almost more
+than she could bear. Then, with characteristic simplicity and
+straightforwardness, she told these old friends the truth.
+
+"You dear boys! It is quite sweet of you to come over; and an hour ago,
+you would have found me radiant. There cannot have been a happier woman
+in the whole world than I. But, you know, I met him, and we became
+engaged, while I was doing my very original rest-cure, which consisted
+chiefly in being Mrs. O'Mara, to all intents and purposes, instead of
+myself. This afternoon he knows for the first time that I am Lady Ingleby
+of Shenstone. And, boys, the shock has been too much for him. He is such
+a splendid man; but a dear delightful cowboy sort of person. He has lived
+a great deal abroad, and been everything you can imagine that bestrides a
+horse and does brave things. He finished up at your horrid little war,
+and got fever at Targai. You must have known him. He calls it 'a muddle
+on the frontier,' and now he is writing a book about it, and about other
+muddles, and how to avoid them. But he has a quite eccentric dislike to
+titles and big properties; so he has shied really badly at mine. He has
+gone off to 'face it out' alone. Hence you find me sad instead of gay."
+
+Billy looked at Ronnie, telegraphing: "Is it? It must be! Shall we tell
+her?"
+
+Ronnie telegraphed back: "It is! It can be no other. _You_ tell her."
+
+Lady Ingleby became aware of these crosscurrents.
+
+"What is it, boys?" she said,
+
+"Dear Queen," cried Billy, with hardly suppressed excitement; "may we ask
+the cowboy person's name?"
+
+"Jim Airth," replied Lady Ingleby, a sudden rush of colour flooding her
+pale cheeks.
+
+"In that case," said Billy, "he is the chap we met tearing along to the
+railway station, as if all the furies were loose at his heels. He looked
+neither to the right nor to the left, nor, for that matter, in front of
+him; and our dog-cart had to take to the path! So he did not see two old
+comrades, nor did he hear their hail. But he cannot possibly have been
+fleeing from your title, dear lady, and hardly from your property; seeing
+that his own title is about the oldest known in Scottish history; while
+mile after mile of moor and stream and forest belong to him. Surely you
+knew that the fellow who called himself 'Jim Airth' when out ranching in
+the West, and still keeps it as his _nom-de-plume_, is--when at
+home--James, Earl of Airth and Monteith, and a few other names I have
+forgotten;--the finest old title in Scotland!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+WHAT BILLY HAD TO TELL
+
+
+"Did you bring your rackets, boys?" Lady Ingleby had said, with fine
+self-control; adding, when they admitted rackets left in the hall, "Ah, I
+am glad you never can resist the chestnut court. It seems ages since I
+saw you two fight out a single. Do go on and begin. I will order tea out
+there in half an hour, and follow you."
+
+Then she escaped to the terrace, flew across garden and lawn, and sought
+the shelter of the beeches. Arrived there, she sank into the chair in
+which Jim Airth had sat so immovable, and covered her face with her
+trembling fingers.
+
+"Oh, Jim, Jim!" she sobbed. "My darling, how grievously I wronged you! My
+king among men! How I misjudged you! Imputing to you thoughts of which
+you, in your noble large-heartedness, would scarcely know the meaning.
+Oh, my dear, forgive me! And oh, come to me through this darkness and
+explain what I have done wrong; explain what it is you have to face; tell
+me what has come between us. For indeed, if you leave me, I shall die."
+
+Myra now felt certain that the fault was hers; and she suffered less than
+when she had thought it his. Yet she was sorely perplexed. For, if the
+Earl of Airth and Monteith might write himself down "Jim Airth" in the
+Moorhead Inn visitors' book, and be blameless, why might not Lady Ingleby
+of Shenstone take an equally simple name, without committing an
+unpardonable offence?
+
+Myra pondered, wept, and reasoned round in a circle, growing more and
+more bewildered and perplexed.
+
+But by-and-by she went indoors and tried to remove all traces of recent
+tears. She must not let her sorrow make her selfish. Ronald and Billy
+would be wanting tea, and expecting her to join them.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile the two friends, their rackets under their arms, had strolled
+through the shrubbery at the front of the house, to the beautiful tennis
+lawns, long renowned as being the most perfect in the neighbourhood. Many
+a tournament had there been fought out, in presence of a gay crowd,
+lining the courts, beneath the shady chestnut trees.
+
+But on this day the place seemed sad and deserted. They played one set,
+in silence, hardly troubling to score; then walked to the net and stood
+close together, one on either side.
+
+"We must tell her," said Ronald, examining his racket, minutely.
+
+"I suppose we must," agreed Billy, reluctantly. "We could not let her
+marry him."
+
+"Duffer! you don't suppose he would dream of marrying her? He will come
+back, and tell her himself to-morrow. We must tell her, to spare her that
+interview. She need never see him again."
+
+"I say, Ron! Did you see her go quite pink when she told us his name? And
+in spite of the trouble to-day, she looks half a dozen years younger than
+when she went away. You know she does, old man!"
+
+"Oh, that's the rest-cure," explained Ronnie, but without much
+conviction. "Rest-cures always have that effect. That's why women go in
+for them. Did you ever hear of a man doing a rest-cure?"
+
+"Well, I've heard of _you_, at Overdene," said Billy, maliciously.
+
+"Rot! You don't call staying with the duchess a rest-cure? Good heavens,
+man! You get about the liveliest time of your life when her Grace of
+Meldrum undertakes to nurse you. Did you hear about old Pilberry the
+parson, and the toucan?"
+
+"Yes, shut up. You've told me that unholy story twice already. I say,
+Ronnie! We are begging the question. Who's to tell her?"
+
+"You," said Ronald decidedly. "She cares for you like a mother, and will
+take it more easily from you. Then I can step in, later on,
+with--er--_manly_ comfort."
+
+"Confound you!" said Billy, highly indignant. "I'm not such a kid as you
+make out. But I'll tell you this:--If I thought it would be for her real
+happiness, and could be pulled through, I would tell her I did it; then
+find Airth to-morrow and tell him I had told her so."
+
+"Ass!" said Ronnie, affectionately. "As if that could mend matters. Don't
+you know the earl? He was against the hushing-up business from the first.
+He would simply punch your head for daring to lie to her, and go and tell
+her the exact truth himself. Besides, at this moment, he is thinking more
+of his side of the question, than of hers. We fellows have a way of doing
+that. If he had thought first of her, he would have stayed with her and
+seen her through, instead of rushing off like this, leaving her
+heart-broken and perplexed."
+
+"Confound him!" said Billy, earnestly.
+
+"I say, Billy! You know women." It was the first time Ronnie had admitted
+this. "Don't you think--if a woman turned in horror from a man she had
+loved, she might--if he were tactfully on the spot--turn _to_ a man who
+had long loved her, and of whom she had undoubtedly been fond?"
+
+"My knowledge of women," declaimed Billy, dramatically, "leads me to hope
+that she would fall into the arms of the man who loved her well enough to
+risk incurring her displeasure by bravely telling her himself that which
+she ought----"
+
+"Confound you!" whispered Ronnie, who had glanced past Billy, "Shut
+up!--The meshes of this net are better than the other, and the new patent
+sockets undoubtedly keep it----"
+
+"You patient people!" said Lady Ingleby's voice, just behind Billy.
+"Don't you badly need tea?"
+
+"We were admiring the new net," said Ronald Ingram, frowning at Billy,
+who with his back to Lady Ingleby, continued admiring the new net,
+helplessly speechless!
+
+There were brave attempts at merriment during tea. Ronald told all the
+latest Overdene stories; then described the annual concert which had just
+taken place.
+
+"Mrs. Dalmain was there, and sang divinely. She sings her husband's
+songs; he accompanies her. It is awfully fine to see the light on his
+blind face as he listens, while her glorious voice comes pouring forth.
+When the song is over, he gets up from the piano, gives her his arm, and
+apparently leads her off. Very few people realise that, as a matter of
+fact, she is guiding him. She gave, as an encore, a jolly little new
+thing of his--quite simple--but everybody wanted it twice over; an air
+like summer wind blowing through a pine wood, with an accompaniment like
+a blackbird whistling; words something about 'On God's fair earth, 'mid
+blossoms blue'--I forget the rest. Go ahead, Bill!"
+
+                  "There is no room for sad despair,
+                  When heaven's love is everywhere."
+
+quoted Billy, who had an excellent memory.
+
+Myra rose, hastily. "I must go in," she said. "But play as long as you
+like."
+
+Billy walked beside her towards the shrubbery. "May I come in and see
+you, presently, dear Queen? There is something I want to say."
+
+"Come when you will, Billy-boy," said Lady Ingleby, with a smile. "You
+will find me in my sitting-room."
+
+And Billy looked furtively at Ronald, hoping he had not seen. Words and
+smile undoubtedly partook of the maternal!
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a very grave-faced young man who, half an hour later, appeared in
+Lady Ingleby's sitting-room, closing the door carefully behind him. Lady
+Ingleby knew at once that he had come on some matter which, at all events
+to himself, appeared of paramount importance. Billy's days of youthful
+escapades were over. This must be something more serious.
+
+She rose from her davenport and came to the sofa. "Sit down, Billy," she
+said, indicating an armchair opposite--Lord Ingleby's chair, and little
+Peter's. Both had now left it empty. Billy filled it readily, unconscious
+of its associations.
+
+"Rippin' flowers," remarked Billy, looking round the room.
+
+"Yes," said Lady Ingleby. She devoutly hoped Billy was not going to
+propose.
+
+"Jolly room," said Billy; "at least, I always think so."
+
+"Yes," said Lady Ingleby. "So do I."
+
+Billy's eyes, roaming anxiously around for fresh inspiration, lighted on
+the portrait over the mantelpiece. He started and paled. Then he knew his
+hour had come. There must be no more beating about the bush.
+
+Billy was a soldier, and a brave one. He had led a charge once, running
+up a hill ahead of his men, in face of a perfect hail of bullets. First
+came Billy; then the battalion. Not a man could keep within fifty yards
+of him. They always said afterwards that Billy came through that charge
+alive, because he sprinted so fast, that no bullets could touch him. He
+rushed at the subject now, with the same headlong courage.
+
+"Lady Ingleby," he said, "there is something Ronnie and I both think you
+ought to know."
+
+"Is there, Billy?" said Myra. "Then suppose you tell it me."
+
+"We have sworn not to tell," continued Billy; "but I don't care a damn--I
+mean a pin--for an oath, if _your_ happiness is at stake."
+
+"You must not break an oath, Billy, even for my sake," said Myra,
+gently.
+
+"Well, you see--_if you wished it_, you were to be the one exception."
+
+Suddenly Lady Ingleby understood. "Oh, Billy!" she said. "Does Ronald
+wish me to be told?"
+
+This gave Billy a pang. So Ronnie really counted after all, and would
+walk in--over the broken hearts of Billy and another--in role of manly
+comforter. It was hard; but, loyally, Billy made answer.
+
+"Yes; Ronnie says it is only right; and I think so too. I've come to do
+it, if you will let me."
+
+Lady Ingleby sat, with clasped hands, considering. After all, what did it
+matter? What did anything matter, compared to the trouble with Jim?
+
+She looked up at the portrait; but Michael's pictured face, intent on
+little Peter, gave her no sign.
+
+If these boys wished to tell her, and get it off their minds, why should
+she not know? It would put a stop, once for all, to Ronnie's tragic
+love-making.
+
+"Yes, Billy," she said. "You may as well tell me."
+
+The room was very still. A rosebud tapped twice against the window-pane.
+It might have been a warning finger. Neither noticed it. It tapped a
+third time.
+
+Billy cleared his throat, and swallowed, quickly.
+
+Then he spoke.
+
+"The man who made the blunder," he said, "and fired the mine too soon;
+the man who killed Lord Ingleby, by mistake, was the chap you call 'Jim
+Airth.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+JIM AIRTH DECIDES
+
+
+Lady Ingleby awaited Jim Airth's arrival, in her sitting-room.
+
+As the hour drew near, she rang the bell.
+
+"Groatley," she said, when the butler appeared, "the Earl of Airth, who
+was here yesterday, will call again, this afternoon. When his lordship
+comes, you can show him in here. I shall not be at home to any one else.
+You need not bring tea until I ring for it."
+
+Then she sat down, quietly waiting.
+
+She had resumed the mourning, temporarily laid aside. The black gown,
+hanging about her in soft trailing folds, added to the graceful height of
+her slight figure. The white tokens of widowhood at neck and wrists gave
+to her unusual beauty a pathetic suggestion of wistful loneliness. Her
+face was very pale; a purple tint beneath the tired eyes betokened tears
+and sleeplessness. But the calm steadfast look in those sweet eyes
+revealed a mind free of all doubt; a heart, completely at rest.
+
+She leaned back among the sofa cushions, her hands folded in her lap, and
+waited.
+
+Bees hummed in and out of the open windows. The scent of freesias filled
+the room, delicate, piercingly sweet, yet not oppressive. To one man
+forever afterwards the scent of freesias recalled that afternoon; the
+exquisite sweetness of that lovely face; the trailing softness of her
+widow's gown.
+
+Steps in the hall.
+
+The door opened. Groatley's voice, pompously sonorous, broke into the
+waiting silence.
+
+"The Earl of Airth, m'lady"; and Jim Airth walked in.
+
+As the door closed behind him, Myra rose.
+
+They stood, silently confronting one another beneath Lord Ingleby's
+picture.
+
+It almost seemed as though the thoughtful scholarly face must turn from
+its absorbed contemplation of the little dog, to look down for a moment
+upon them. They presented a psychological problem--these brave hearts in
+torment--which would surely have proved interesting to the calm student
+of metaphysics.
+
+Silently they faced one another for the space of a dozen heart-beats.
+
+Then Myra, with a swift movement, went up to Jim Airth, put her arms
+about his neck, and laid her head upon his breast.
+
+"I _know_, my beloved," she said. "You need not give yourself the pain of
+trying to tell me."
+
+"How?" A single syllable seemed the most Jim's lips, for the moment,
+could manage.
+
+"Billy told me. He and Ronald Ingram came over yesterday afternoon, soon
+after you left. They had passed you, on your way to the station. They
+thought I ought to know. So Billy told me."
+
+Jim Airth's arms closed round her, holding her tightly.
+
+"My--poor--girl!" he said, brokenly.
+
+"They meant well, Jim. They are dear boys. They knew you would come back
+and tell me yourself; and they wanted to spare us both that pain. I am
+glad they did it. You were quite right when you said it had to be faced
+alone. I could not have been ready for your return, if I had not heard
+the truth, and had time to face it alone. I _am_ ready now, Jim."
+
+Jim Airth laid his cheek against her soft hair, with a groan.
+
+"I have come to say good-bye, Myra. It is all that remains to be said."
+
+"Good-bye?" Myra raised a face of terrified questioning.
+
+Jim Airth pressed it back to its hiding-place upon his breast.
+
+"I am the man, Myra, whose hand you could never bring yourself to touch
+in friendship."
+
+Myra lifted her head again. The look in her eyes was that of a woman
+prepared to fight for happiness and life.
+
+"You are the man," she said, "whose little finger is dearer to me than
+the whole body of any one else has ever been. Do you suppose I will give
+you up, Jim, because of a thing which happened accidentally in the past,
+before you and I had ever met? Ah, how little you men understand a
+woman's heart! Shall I tell you what I felt when Billy told me, after the
+first bewildering shock was over? First: sorrow for you, my dearest; a
+realisation of how appalling the mental anguish must have been, at the
+time. Secondly: thankfulness--yes, intense overwhelming thankfulness--to
+know at last what had come between us; and to know it was this
+thing--this mere ghost out of the past--nothing tangible or real; no
+wrong of mine against you, or of yours against me; nothing which need
+divide us."
+
+Jim Airth slowly unlocked his arms, took her by the wrists, holding her
+hands against his breast. Then he looked into her eyes with a silent
+sadness, more forcible than speech.
+
+"My own poor girl," he said, at length; "it is impossible for me to marry
+Lord Ingleby's widow."
+
+The strength of his will mastered hers; and, just as in Horseshoe Cove
+her fears had yielded to his dauntless courage, so now Myra felt her
+confidence ebbing away before his stern resolve. Fearful of losing it
+altogether, she drew away her hands, and turned to the sofa.
+
+"Oh, Jim," she said, "sit down and let us talk it over."
+
+She sank back among the cushions and drawing a bowl of roses hastily
+toward her, buried her face in them, fearing again to meet the settled
+sadness of his eyes.
+
+Jim Airth sat down--in the chair left vacant by Lord Ingleby and Peter.
+
+"Listen, dear," he said. "I need not ask you never to doubt my love. That
+would be absurd from me to you. I love you as I did not know it was
+possible for a man to love a woman. I love you in such a way that every
+fibre of my being will hunger for you night and day--through all the
+years to come. But--well, it would always have come hard to me to stand
+in another man's shoes, and take what had been his. I did not feel this
+when I thought I was following Sergeant O'Mara, because I knew he must
+always have been in all things so utterly apart from you. I could, under
+different circumstances, have brought myself to follow Ingleby, because I
+realise that he never awakened in you such love as is yours for me. His
+possessions would not have weighted me, because it so happens I have
+lands and houses of my own, where we could have lived. But, to stand in a
+dead man's shoes, when he is dead through an act of mine; to take to
+myself another man's widow, when she would still, but for a reckless
+movement of my own right hand, have been a wife--Myra, I could not do it!
+Even with our great love, it would not mean happiness. Think of
+it--think! As we stood together in the sight of God, while the Church, in
+solemn voice, required and charged us both, as we should answer at the
+dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts should be
+disclosed, that if either of us knew any impediment why we might not be
+lawfully joined together in matrimony, we should then confess it--I
+should cry: 'Her husband died by my hand!' and leave the church, with the
+brand of Cain, and the infamy of David, upon me."
+
+Myra lifted frightened eyes; met his, beseechingly; then bent again over
+the roses.
+
+"Or, even if I passed through that ordeal, standing mute in the solemn
+silence, what of the moment when the Church bade me take your right hand
+in my right hand--Myra, _my_ right hand?"
+
+She rose, came swiftly over, and knelt before him. She took his hand, and
+covered it with tears and kisses. She held it, sobbing, to her heart.
+
+"Dearest," she said, "I will never ask you to do, for my sake, anything
+you feel impossible or wrong. But, oh, in this, I know you are mistaken.
+I cannot argue or explain. I cannot put my reasons into words. But I
+_know_ our living, longing, love _ought_ to come before the happenings of
+a dead past. Michael lost his life through an accident. That the accident
+was caused by a mistake on your part, is fearfully hard for you. But
+there is no moral wrong in it. You might as well blame the company whose
+boat took him abroad; or the government which decided on the expedition;
+or the War Office people, who accepted him when he volunteered. I am sure
+I don't know what David did; I thought he was a quite excellent person.
+But I _do_ know about Cain; and I am perfectly certain that the brand of
+Cain could never rest on anyone, because of an unpremeditated accident.
+Oh, Jim! Cannot you look at it reasonably?"
+
+"I looked at it reasonably--after a while--until yesterday," said Jim
+Airth. "At first, of course, all was blank, ghastly despair. Oh, Myra,
+let me tell you! I have never been able to tell anyone. Go back to the
+couch; I can't let you kneel here. Sit down over there, and let me tell
+you."
+
+Lady Ingleby rose at once and returned to her seat; then sat
+listening--her yearning eyes fixed upon his bowed head. He had
+momentarily forgotten what the events of that night had cost her; so also
+had she. Her only thought was of his pain.
+
+Jim Airth began to speak, in low, hurried tones; haunted with a horror of
+reminiscence.
+
+"I can see it now. The little stuffy tent; the hidden light. I was
+already sickening for fever, working with a temperature of 102. I hadn't
+slept for two nights, and my head felt as if it were two large eyes, and
+those eyes, both bruises. I knew I ought to knock under and give the job
+to another man; but Ingleby and I had worked it all out together, and I
+was dead keen on it. It was a place where no big guns could go; but our
+little arrangement which you could carry in one hand, would do better and
+surer work, than half a dozen big guns.
+
+"There was a long wait after Ingleby and the other fellow--it was
+Ingram--started. Cathcart, left behind with me, was in and out of the
+tent; but he couldn't stay still two minutes; he was afraid of missing
+the rush. So I was alone when the signal came. We found afterwards that
+Ingram had crawled out of the tunnel, and gone to take a message to the
+nearest ambush. Ingleby was left alone. He signalled: 'Placed,' as
+agreed. I took it to be 'Fire!' and acted instantly. The moment I had
+done it, I realised my mistake. But that same instant came the roar, and
+the hot silent night was turned to pandemonium. I dashed out of the tent,
+shouting for Ingleby. Good God! It was like hell! The yelling swearing
+Tommies, making up for the long enforced silence and inaction; the hordes
+of dark devilish faces, leering in their fury, and jeering at our
+discomfiture; for inside their outer wall, was a rampart of double the
+strength, and we were no nearer taking Targai.
+
+"Afterwards--if I hadn't owned up at once to my mistake, nobody would
+have known how the thing had happened. Even then, they tried to persuade
+me the wrong signal had been given; but I knew better. And on the spot,
+it was impossible to find--well, any actual proofs of what had happened.
+The gap had been filled at once with crowds of yelling jostling Tommies,
+mad to get into the town. Jove, how those chaps fight when they get the
+chance. When all was over, several were missing who were not among the
+dead. They must have forced themselves in where they could not get back,
+and been taken prisoners. God alone knows their fate, poor beggars. Yet I
+envied them; for when the row was over, my hell began.
+
+"Myra, I would have given my whole life to have had that minute over
+again. And it was maddening to know that the business might have been
+done all right with any old fuse. Only we were so keen over our new ideas
+for signalling, and our portable electric apparatus. Oh, good Lord! I
+knew despair, those days and nights! I was down with fever, and they took
+away my sword, and guns, and razors. I couldn't imagine why. Even despair
+doesn't take me that way. But if a chap could have come into my tent and
+said: 'You didn't kill Ingleby after all. He's all right and alive!' I
+would have given my life gladly for that moment's relief. But no present
+anguish can undo a past mistake.
+
+"Well, I pulled through the fever; life had to be lived, and I suppose
+I'm not the sort of chap to take a morbid view. When I found the thing
+was to be kept quiet; when the few who knew the ins-and-outs stood by me
+like the good fellows they were, saying it might have happened to any of
+them, and as soon as I got fit again I should see the only rotten thing
+would be to let it spoil my future; I made up my mind to put it clean
+away, and live it down. You know they say, out in the great western
+country: 'God Almighty hates a quitter.' It is one of the stimulating
+tenets of their fine practical theology. I had fought through other hard
+times. I determined to fight through this. I succeeded so well, that it
+even seemed natural to go on with the work Ingleby and I had been doing
+together, and carry it through. And when notes of his were needed, I came
+to his own home without a qualm, to ask his widow--the woman I, by my
+mistake, had widowed--for permission to have and to use them.
+
+"I came--my mind full of the rich joy of life and love, with scarcely
+room for a passing pang of regret, as I entered the house without a
+master, the home without a head, knowing I was about to meet the woman I
+had widowed. Truly 'The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind
+exceeding small.' I had thrown off too easily what should have been a
+lifelong burden of regret.
+
+"In the woman I had widowed I found--the woman I was about to wed! Good
+God! Was there ever so hard a retribution?"
+
+"Jim," said Myra, gently, "is there not another side to the picture? Does
+it not strike you that it should have seemed beautiful to find that God
+in His wonderful providence had put you in a position to be able to take
+care of Michael's widow, left so helpless and alone; that in saving her
+life by the strength of your right hand, you had atoned for the death
+that hand had unwittingly dealt; that, though the past cannot be undone,
+it can sometimes be wiped out by the present? Oh, Jim! Cannot you see it
+thus, and keep and hold the right to take care of me forever? My beloved!
+Let us never, from this moment, part. I will come away with you at once.
+We can get a special licence, and be married immediately. We will let
+Shenstone, and let the house in Park Lane, and live abroad, anywhere you
+will, Jim; only together--together! Take me away to-day. Maggie O'Mara
+can attend me, until we are married. But I can't face life without you.
+Jim--I can't! God knows, I can't!"
+
+Jim Airth looked up, a gleam of hope in his sad eyes.
+
+Then he looked away, that her appealing loveliness might not too much
+tempt him, while making his decision. He lifted his eyes; and, alas! they
+fell on the portrait over the mantelpiece.
+
+He shivered.
+
+"I can never marry Lord Ingleby's widow," he said. "Myra, how can you
+wish it? The thing would haunt us! It would be evil--unnatural. Night and
+day, it would be there. It would come between us. Some day you would
+reproach me----"
+
+"Ah, hush!" cried Myra, sharply. "Not that! I am suffering enough. At
+least spare me that!" Then, putting aside once more her own pain: "Would
+it not be happiness to you, Jim?" she asked, with wistful gentleness.
+
+"Happiness?" cried Jim Airth, violently, "It would be hell!"
+
+Lady Ingleby rose, her face as white as the large arum lily in the corner
+behind her.
+
+"Then that settles it," she said; "and, do you know, I think we had
+better not speak of it any more. I am going to ring for tea. And, if you
+will excuse me for a few moments, while they are bringing it, I will
+search among my husband's papers, and try to find those you require for
+your book."
+
+She passed swiftly out. Through the closed door, the man she left alone
+heard her giving quiet orders in the hall.
+
+He crossed the room, in two great strides, to follow her. But at the door
+he paused; turned, and came slowly back.
+
+He stood on the hearthrug, with bent head; rigid, motionless.
+
+Suddenly he lifted his eyes to Lord Ingleby's portrait.
+
+"Curse you!" he said through clenched teeth, and beat his fists upon the
+marble mantelpiece. "Curse your explosives! And curse your inventions!
+And curse you for taking her first!" Then he dropped into a chair, and
+buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God forgive me!" he whispered,
+brokenly. "But there is a limit to what a man can bear."
+
+He scarcely noticed the entrance of the footman who brought tea. But when
+a lighter step paused at the door, he lifted a haggard face, expecting to
+see Myra.
+
+A quiet woman entered, simply dressed in black merino. Her white linen
+collar and cuffs gave her the look of a hospital nurse. Her dark hair,
+neatly parted, was smoothly coiled around her head. She came in,
+deferentially; yet with a quiet dignity of manner.
+
+"I have come to pour your tea, my lord," she said. "Lady Ingleby is not
+well, and fears she must remain in her room. She asks me to give you
+these papers."
+
+Then the Earl of Airth and Monteith rose to his feet, and held out his
+hand.
+
+"I think you must be Mrs. O'Mara," he said. "I am glad to meet you, and
+it is kind of you to give me tea. I have heard of you before; and I
+believe I saw you yesterday, on the steps of your pretty house, as I
+drove up the avenue. Will you allow me to tell you how often, when we
+stood shoulder to shoulder in times of difficulty and danger, I had
+reason to respect and admire the brave comrade I knew as Sergeant
+O'Mara?"
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before quitting Shenstone, Jim Airth sat at Myra's davenport and wrote a
+letter, leaving it with Mrs. O'Mara to place in Lady Ingleby's hands as
+soon as he had gone.
+
+"I do not wonder you felt unable to see me again. Forgive me for all the
+grief I have caused, and am causing, you. I shall go abroad as soon as
+may be; but am obliged to remain in town until I have completed work
+which I am under contract with my publishers to finish. It will take a
+month, at most.
+
+"If you want me, Myra--I mean if you _need_ me--I could come at any
+moment. A wire to my Club would always find me.
+
+                                      "May I know how you are?
+                                                    "Wholly yours,
+                                                          "Jim Airth."
+
+To this Lady Ingleby replied on the following day.
+
+"DEAR JIM,
+
+"I shall always want you; but I could never send unless the coming would
+mean happiness for you.
+
+"I know you decided as you felt right,
+
+"I am quite well.
+
+                                        "God bless you always.
+                                                               "MYRA."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A BETTER POINT OF VIEW
+
+
+In the days which followed, Jim Airth suffered all the pangs which come
+to a man who has made a decision prompted by pride rather than by
+conviction.
+
+It had always seemed to him essential that a man should appear in all
+things without shame or blame in the eyes of the woman he loved.
+Therefore, to be obliged suddenly to admit that a fatal blunder of his
+own had been the cause, even in the past, of irreparable loss and sorrow
+to her, had been an unacknowledged but intolerable humiliation. That she
+should have anything to overlook or to forgive in accepting himself and
+his love, was a condition of things to which he could not bring himself
+to submit; and her sweet generosity and devotion, rather increased than
+soothed his sense of wounded pride.
+
+He had been superficially honest in the reasons he had given to Myra
+regarding the impossibility of marriage between them. He had said all the
+things which he knew others might be expected to say; he had mercilessly
+expressed what would have been his own judgment had he been asked to
+pronounce an opinion concerning any other man and woman in like
+circumstances. As he voiced them they had sounded tragically plausible
+and stoically just. He knew he was inflicting almost unbearable pain upon
+himself and upon the woman whose whole love was his; but that pain seemed
+necessary to the tragic demands of the entire ghastly situation.
+
+Only after he had finally left her and was on his way back to town, did
+Jim Airth realise that the pain he had thus inflicted upon her and upon
+himself, had been a solace to his own wounded pride. His had been the
+mistake, and it re-established him in his own self-respect and sense of
+superiority, that his should be the decision, so hard to make--so
+unfalteringly made--bringing down upon his own head a punishment out of
+all proportion to the fault committed.
+
+But, now that the strain and tension were over, his natural honesty of
+mind reasserted itself, forcing him to admit that his own selfish pride
+had been at the bottom of his high-flown tragedy.
+
+Myra's simple loving view of the case had been the right one; yet,
+thrusting it from him, he had ruthlessly plunged himself and her into a
+hopeless abyss of needless suffering.
+
+By degrees he slowly realised that in so doing he had deliberately
+inflicted a more cruel wrong upon the woman he loved, than that which he
+had unwittingly done her in the past.
+
+Remorse and regret gnawed at his heart, added to an almost unbearable
+hunger for Myra. Yet he could not bring himself to return to her with
+this second and still more humiliating confession of failure.
+
+His one hope was that Myra would find their separation impossible to
+endure, and would send for him. But the days went by, and Myra made no
+sign. She had said she would never send for him unless assured that
+coming to her would mean happiness to him. To this decision she quietly
+adhered.
+
+In a strongly virile man, love towards a woman is, in its essential
+qualities, naturally selfish. Its keynote is, "I need"; its dominant, "I
+want"; its full major chord, "I must possess."
+
+On the other hand, the woman's love for the man is essentially unselfish.
+Its keynote is, "He needs"; its dominant, "I am his, to do with as he
+pleases"; its full major chord, "Let me give all." In the Book of
+Canticles, one of the greatest love-poems ever written, we find this
+truth exemplified; we see the woman's heart learning its lesson, in a
+fine crescendo of self-surrender. In the first stanza she says: "My
+Beloved is mine, and I am his"; in the second, "I am my Beloved's and he
+is mine." But in the third, all else is merged in the instinctive joy of
+giving: "I am my Beloved's, and his desire is towards me."
+
+This is the natural attitude of the sexes, designed by an all-wise
+Creator; but designed for a condition of ideal perfection. No perfect law
+could be framed for imperfection. Therefore, if the working out prove
+often a failure, the fault lies in the imperfection of the workers, not
+in the perfection of the law. In those rare cases where the love is
+ideal, the man's "I take" and the woman's "I give" blend into an ideal
+union, each completing and modifying the other. But where sin of any kind
+comes in, a false note has been struck in the divine harmony, and the
+grand chord of mutual love fails to ring true.
+
+Into their perfect love, Jim Airth had introduced the discord of false
+pride. It had become the basis of his line of action, and their symphony
+of life, so beautiful at first in its sweet theme of mutual love and
+trust, now lost its harmony, and jarred into a hopeless jangle. The very
+fact that she faithfully adhered to her trustful unselfishness,
+acquiescing without a murmur in his decision, made readjustment the more
+impossible. Thus the weeks went by.
+
+Jim Airth worked feverishly at his proofs; drinking and smoking, when he
+should have been eating and sleeping; going off suddenly, after two or
+three days of continuous sitting at his desk, on desperate bouts of
+violent exercise.
+
+He walked down to Shenstone by night; sat, in bitterness of spirit under
+the beeches, surrounded by empty wicker chairs;--a silent ghostly
+garden-party!--watched the dawn break over the lake; prowled around the
+house where Lady Ingleby lay sleeping, and narrowly escaped arrest at the
+hands of Lady Ingleby's night-watchman; leaving for London by the first
+train in the morning, more sick at heart than when he started.
+
+Another time he suddenly turned in at Paddington, took the train down to
+Cornwall, and astonished the Miss Murgatroyds by stalking into the
+coffee-room, the gaunt ghost of his old gay self. Afterwards he went off
+to Horseshoe Cove, climbed the cliff and spent the night on the ledge,
+dwelling in morbid misery on the wonderful memories with which that place
+was surrounded.
+
+It was then that fresh hope, and the complete acceptance of a better
+point of view, came to Jim Airth.
+
+As he sat on the ledge, hugging his lonely misery, he suddenly became
+strangely conscious of Myra's presence. It was as if the sweet wistful
+grey eyes, were turned upon him in the darkness; the tender mouth smiled
+lovingly, while the voice he knew so well asked in soft merriment, as
+under the beeches at Shenstone: "What has come to you, you dearest old
+boy?"
+
+He had just put his hand into his pocket and drawn out his spirit-flask.
+He held it for a moment, while he listened, spellbound, to that whisper;
+then flung it away into the darkness, far down to the sea below. "Davy
+Jones may have it," he said, and laughed aloud; "_who e'er he be!_" It
+was the first time Jim Airth had laughed since that afternoon beneath the
+Shenstone beeches.
+
+Then, with the sense of Myra's presence still so near him, he lay with
+his back to the cliff, his face to the moonlit sea. It seemed to him as
+if again he drew her, shaking and trembling but unresisting, into his
+arms, holding her there in safety until her trembling ceased, and she
+slept the untroubled sleep of a happy child.
+
+All the best and noblest in Jim Airth awoke at that hallowed memory of
+faithful strength on his part, and trustful peace on hers.
+
+"My God," he said, "what a nightmare it has been! And what a fool, I, to
+think anything could come between us. Has she not been utterly mine since
+that sacred night spent here? And I have left her to loneliness and
+grief?.... I will arise and go to my beloved. No past, no shame, no pride
+of mine, shall come between us any more."
+
+He raised himself on his elbow and looked over the edge. The moonlight
+shone on rippling water lapping the foot of the cliff. He could see his
+watch by its bright light. Midnight! He must wait until three, for the
+tide to go down. He leaned back again, his arms folded across his chest;
+but Myra was still safely within them.
+
+Two minutes later, Jim Airth slept soundly.
+
+The dawn awoke him. He scrambled down to the shore, and once again swam
+up the golden path toward the rising sun.
+
+As he got back into his clothes, it seemed to him that every vestige of
+that black nightmare had been left behind in the gay tossing waters.
+
+On his way to the railway station, he passed a farm. The farmer's wife
+had been up since sunrise, churning. She gladly gave him a simple
+breakfast of home-made bread, with butter fresh from the churn.
+
+He caught the six o'clock express for town; tubbed, shaved, and lunched,
+at his Club.
+
+At a quarter to three he was just coming down the steps into Piccadilly,
+very consciously "clothed and in his right mind," debating which train he
+could take for Shenstone if--as in duty bound--he looked in at his
+publishers' first; when a telegraph boy dashed up the steps into the
+Club, and the next moment the hall-porter hastened after him with a
+telegram.
+
+Jim Airth read it; took one look at his watch; then jumped headlong into
+a passing taxicab.
+
+"Charing Cross!" he shouted to the chauffeur. "And a sovereign if you do
+it in five minutes."
+
+As the flag tinged down, and the taxi glided swiftly forward into the
+whirl of traffic, Jim Airth unfolded the telegram and read it again.
+
+It had been handed in at Shenstone at 2.15.
+
+                        Come to me at once.
+                                         Myra.
+
+A shout of exultation arose within him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MICHAEL VERITAS
+
+
+On the morning of that day, while Jim Airth, braced with a new resolve
+and a fresh outlook on life, was speeding up from Cornwall, Lady Ingleby
+sat beneath the scarlet chestnuts, watching Ronald and Billy play
+tennis.
+
+They had entered for a tournament, and discovered that they required
+constant practice such as, apparently, could only be obtained at
+Shenstone. In reality they came over so frequently in honest-hearted
+trouble and anxiety over their friend, of whose unexpected sorrow they
+chanced to be the sole confidants. Lady Ingleby refused herself to all
+other visitors. In the trying uncertainty of these few weeks while Jim
+Airth was still in England, she dreaded questions or comments. To Jane
+Dalmain she had written the whole truth. The Dalmains were at Worcester,
+attending a musical festival in that noblest of English cathedrals; but
+they expected soon to return to Overdene, when Jane had promised to come
+to her.
+
+Meanwhile Ronald and Billy turned up often, doing their valiant best to
+be cheerful; but Myra's fragile look, and large pathetic eyes, alarmed
+and horrified them. Obviously things had gone more hopelessly wrong than
+they had anticipated. They had known at once that Airth would not marry
+Lady Ingleby; but it had never occurred to them that Lady Ingleby would
+still wish to marry Airth. Ronald stoutly denied that this was the case;
+but Billy affirmed it, though refusing to give reasons.
+
+Ronald had never succeeded in extorting from Billy one word of what had
+taken place when he had told Lady Ingleby that Jim Airth was the man.
+
+"If you wanted to know how she took it, you should have told her
+yourself," said Billy. "And it will be a saving of useless trouble, Ron,
+if you never ask me again."
+
+Thus the days went by; and, though she always seemed gently pleased to
+see them both, no possible opening had been given to Ronald for assuming
+the role of manly comforter.
+
+"I shall give it up," said Ronnie at last, in bitterness of spirit; "I
+tell you, I shall give it up; and marry the duchess!"
+
+"Don't be profane," counselled Billy. "It would be more to the point to
+find Airth, and explain to him, in carefully chosen language, that
+letting Lady Ingleby die of a broken heart will not atone for blowing up
+her husband. I always knew our news would make no difference, from the
+moment I saw her go quite pink when she told us his name. She never went
+pink over Ingleby, you bet! I didn't know they could do it, after
+twenty."
+
+"Much you know, then!" ejaculated Ronnie, scornfully. "I've seen the
+duchess go pink."
+
+"Scarlet, you mean," amended Billy. "So have I, old chap; but that's
+another pair o' boots, as you very well know."
+
+"Oh, don't be vulgar," sighed Ronnie, wearily. "Let's cut the whole thing
+and go to town. Henley begins to-morrow."
+
+But next day they turned up at Shenstone, earlier than usual.
+
+And that morning, Lady Ingleby was feeling strangely restful and at
+peace; not with any expectations of future happiness; but resigned to the
+inevitable; and less apart from Jim Airth. She had fallen asleep the
+night before beset by haunting memories of Cornwall and of their climb up
+the cliff. At midnight she had awakened with a start, fancying herself on
+the ledge, and feeling that she was falling. But instantly Jim Airth's
+arms seemed to enfold her; she felt herself drawn into safety; then that
+exquisite sense of strength and rest was hers once more.
+
+So vivid had been the dream, that its effect remained with her when she
+rose. Thus she sat watching the tennis with a little smile of content on
+her sweet face.
+
+"She is beginning to forget," thought Ronnie, exultant. "_My_ 'vantage!"
+he shouted significantly to Billy, over the net.
+
+"Deuce!" responded Billy, smashing down the ball with unnecessary
+violence.
+
+"No!" cried Ronnie. "Outside, my boy! Game and a 'love' set to me!"
+
+"Stay to lunch, boys," said Lady Ingleby, as the gong sounded; and they
+all three went gaily into the house.
+
+As they passed through the hall afterwards, their motor stood at the
+door; so they bade her good-bye, and turned to find their rackets.
+
+At that moment they heard the sharp ting of a bicycle bell. A boy had
+ridden up with a telegram. Groatley, waiting to see them off, took it;
+picked up a silver salver from the hall table, and followed Lady Ingleby
+to her sitting-room.
+
+There seemed so sudden a silence in the house, that Ronald and Billy with
+one accord stood listening.
+
+"Twenty minutes to two," said Billy, glancing at the clock. "Spirits are
+walking."
+
+The next moment a cry rang out from Lady Ingleby's sitting-room--a cry of
+such mingled bewilderment, wonder, and relief, that they looked at one
+another in amazement. Then without waiting to question or consider, they
+hastened to her.
+
+Lady Ingleby was standing in the middle of the room, an open telegram in
+her hand.
+
+"Jim," she was saying; "Oh, Jim!"
+
+Her face was so transfigured by thankfulness and joy, that neither Ronald
+nor Billy could frame a question. They merely gazed at her.
+
+"Oh, Billy! Oh, Ronald!" she said, "_He didn't do it!_ Oh think what this
+will mean to Jim Airth. Stop the boy! Quick! Bring me a telegram form. I
+must send for him at once.... Oh, Jim, Jim!.... He said he would give his
+life for the relief of the moment when some one should step into the tent
+and tell him he had not done it; and now I shall be that 'some one'!....
+Oh, _how_ do you spell 'Piccadilly'.... Please call Groatley. If we lose
+no time, he may catch the three o'clock express.... Groatley, tell the
+boy to take this telegram and have it sent off immediately. Give him
+half-a-crown, and say he may keep the change.... Now boys.... Shut the
+door!"
+
+The whirlwind of excitement was succeeded by sudden stillness. Lady
+Ingleby sank upon the sofa, burying her face for a moment in the
+cushions.
+
+In the silence they heard the telegraph boy disappearing rapidly into the
+distance, ringing his bell a very unnecessary number of times. When it
+could be heard no longer, Lady Ingleby lifted her head.
+
+"Michael is alive," she said.
+
+"Great Scot!" exclaimed Ronnie, and took a step forward.
+
+Billy made no sound, but he turned very white; backed to the door, and
+leaned against it for support.
+
+"Think what it means to Jim Airth!" said Lady Ingleby. "Think of the
+despair and misery through which he passed; and, after all, he had not
+done it."
+
+"May we see?" asked Ronald eagerly, holding out his hand for the
+telegram.
+
+Billy licked his dry lips, but no sound would come.
+
+"Read it," said Myra.
+
+Ronald took the telegram and read it aloud.
+
+  "_To Lady Ingleby, Shenstone Park, Shenstone, England._
+
+  "_Reported death a mistake. Taken prisoner Targai. Escaped. Arrived
+  Cairo. Large bribes and rewards to pay. Cable five hundred pounds
+  to Cook's immediately._
+
+  "_Michael Veritas._"
+
+"Great Scot!" said Ronnie again.
+
+Billy said nothing; but his eyes never left Lady Ingleby's radiant face.
+
+"Think what it will mean to Jim Airth," she repeated.
+
+"Er--yes," said Ronnie. "It considerably changes the situation--for him.
+What does 'Veritas' mean?"
+
+"That," replied Lady Ingleby "is our private code, Michael's and mine. My
+mother once wired to me in Michael's name, and to Michael in mine--dear
+mamma occasionally does eccentric things--and it made complications.
+Michael was very much annoyed; and after that we took to signing our
+telegrams 'Veritas,' which means: 'This is really from me.'"
+
+"Just think!" said Ronnie. "He, a prisoner; and we, all marching away!
+But I remember now, we always suspected prisoners had been taken at
+Targai. And positive proofs of Lord Ingleby's death were difficult
+to--well, don't you know--to find. I mean--there couldn't be a funeral.
+We had to conclude it, because we believed him to have been right inside
+the tunnel. He must have got clear after all, before Airth sent the
+flash, and getting in with the first rush, been unable to return. Of
+course he has reached Cairo with no money and no means of getting home.
+And the chaps who helped him, will stick to him like leeches till they
+get their pay. What shall you do about cabling?"
+
+Lady Ingleby seemed to collect her thoughts with difficulty.
+
+"Of course the money must be sent--and sent at once," she said. "Oh,
+Ronnie, _could_ you go up to town about it, for me? I would give you a
+cheque, and a note to my bankers; they will know how to cable it through.
+Could you, Ronnie? Michael must not be kept waiting; yet I must stay here
+to tell Jim. It never struck me that I might have gone up to town myself;
+and now I have wired to Jim to come down here. Oh, my dear Ronnie, could
+you?"
+
+"Of course I could," said Ronald, cheerfully. "The motor is at the door.
+I can catch the two-thirty, if you write the note at once. No need for a
+cheque. Just write a few lines authorising your bankers to send out the
+money; I will see them personally; explain the whole thing, and hurry
+them up. The money shall be in Cairo to-night, if possible."
+
+Lady Ingleby went to her davenport.
+
+No sound broke the stillness save the rapid scratching of her pen.
+
+Then Billy spoke. "I will come with you," he said, hoarsely.
+
+"Why do that?" objected Ronald. "You may as well go on in the motor to
+Overdene, and tell them there."
+
+"I am going to town," said Billy, decidedly. Then he walked over to where
+the telegram still lay on the table. "May I copy this?" he asked of Lady
+Ingleby.
+
+"Do," she said, without looking round.
+
+"And Ronnie--you take the original to show them at the bank. Ah, no! I
+must keep that for Jim. Here is paper. Make two copies, Billy."
+
+Billy had already copied the message into his pocket-book. With shaking
+fingers he copied it again, handing the sheet to Ronald, without looking
+at him.
+
+The note written, Lady Ingleby rose.
+
+"Thank you, Ronald," she said. "Thank you, more than I can say. I think
+you will catch the train. And good-bye, Billy."
+
+But Billy was already in the motor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+LORD INGLEBY'S WIFE
+
+
+The journey down from town had been as satisfactorily rapid as even Jim
+Airth could desire. He had caught the train at Charing Cross by five
+seconds.
+
+The hour's run passed quickly in glowing anticipation of that which was
+being brought nearer by every turn of the wheels.
+
+Myra's telegram was drawn from his pocket-book many times. Each word
+seemed fraught with tender meaning, "_Come to me at once._" It was so
+exactly Myra's simple direct method of expression. Most people would have
+said, "Come here," or "Come to Shenstone," or merely "Come." "Come _to
+me_" seemed a tender, though unconscious, response to his resolution of
+the night before: "I will arise and go to my beloved."
+
+Now that the parting was nearly over, he realised how terrible had been
+the blank of three weeks spent apart from Myra. Her sweet personality was
+so knit into his life, that he needed her--not at any particular time, or
+in any particular way--but always; as the air he breathed; or as the
+light, which made the day.
+
+And she? He drew a well-worn letter from his pocket-book--the only letter
+he had ever had from Myra.
+
+"I shall always want you," it said; "but I could never send, unless the
+coming would mean happiness for you."
+
+Yet she _had_ sent. Then she had happiness in store for him. Had she
+instinctively realised his change of mind? Or had she gauged his
+desperate hunger by her own, and understood that the satisfying of that,
+_must_ mean happiness, whatever else of sorrow might lie in the
+background?
+
+But there should be no background of anything but perfect joy, when Myra
+was his wife. Would he not have the turning of the fair leaves of her
+book of life? Each page should unfold fresh happiness, hold new
+surprises as to what life and love could mean. He would know how to guard
+her from the faintest shadow of disillusion. Even now it was his right
+to keep her from that. How much, after all, should he tell her of the
+heart-searchings of these wretched weeks? Last night he had meant to
+tell her everything; he had meant to say: "I have sinned against
+heaven--the heaven of our love--and before thee; and am no more
+worthy...." But was it not essential to a woman's happiness to believe the
+man she loved, to be in all ways, worthy? Out of his pocket came again
+the well-worn letter. "I know you decided as you felt right," wrote Myra.
+Why perplex her with explanations? Let the dead past bury its dead. No
+need to cloud, even momentarily, the joy with which they could now go
+forward into a new life. And what a life! Wedded life with Myra----
+
+"Shenstone Junction!" shouted a porter and Jim Airth was across the
+platform before the train had stopped.
+
+The tandem ponies waited outside the station, and this time Jim Airth
+gathered up the reins with a gay smile, flicking the leader, lightly.
+Before, he had said: "I never drive other people's ponies," in response
+to "Her ladyship's" message; but now--"All that's mine, is thine,
+laddie."
+
+He whistled "Huntingtower," as he drove between the hayfields. Sprays of
+overhanging traveller's-joy brushed his shoulder in the narrow lanes. It
+was good to be alive on such a day. It was good not to be leaving
+England, in England's most perfect weather.... Should he take her home to
+Scotland for their honeymoon, or down to Cornwall?
+
+What a jolly little church!
+
+Evidently Myra never slacked pace for a gate. How the ponies dashed
+through, and into the avenue!
+
+Poor Mrs. O'Mara! It had been difficult to be civil to her, when she had
+appeared instead of Myra to give him tea.
+
+Of course Scotland would be jolly, with so much to show her; but Cornwall
+meant more, in its associations. Yes; he would arrange for the honeymoon
+in Cornwall; be married in the morning, up in town; no fuss; then go
+straight down to the old Moorhead Inn. And after dinner, they would sit
+in the honeysuckle arbour, and----
+
+Groatley showed him into Myra's sitting-room.
+
+She was not there.
+
+He walked over to the mantelpiece. It seemed years since that evening
+when, in a sudden fury against Fate, he had crashed his fists upon its
+marble edge. He raised his eyes to Lord Ingleby's portrait. Poor old
+chap! He looked so content, and so pleased with himself, and his little
+dog. But he must have always appeared more like Myra's father than
+her--than anything else.
+
+On the mantelpiece lay a telegram. After the manner of leisurely country
+post-offices, the full address was written on the envelope. It caught Jim
+Airth's eye, and hardly conscious of doing so, he took it up and read it.
+"_Lady Ingleby, Shenstone Park, England._" He laid it down. "England?" he
+wondered, idly. "Who can have been wiring to her from abroad?"
+
+Then he turned. He had not heard her enter; but she was standing behind
+him.
+
+"Myra!" he cried, and caught her to his heart.
+
+The rapture and relief of that moment were unspeakable. No words seemed
+possible. He could only strain her to him, silently, with all his
+strength, and realise that she was safely there at last.
+
+Myra had lifted her arms, and laid them lightly about his neck, hiding
+her face upon his breast.... He never knew exactly when he began to
+realise a subtle change about the quality of her embrace; the woman's
+passionate tenderness seemed missing; it rather resembled the trustful
+clinging of a little child. An uneasy foreboding, for which he could not
+account, assailed Jim Airth.
+
+"Kiss me, Myra!" he said, peremptorily, and she, lifting her sweet face
+to his, kissed him at once. But it was the pure loving kiss of a little
+child.
+
+Then she withdrew herself from his embrace; and, standing back, he looked
+at her, perplexed. The light upon her face seemed hardly earthly.
+
+"Oh, Jim," she said, "God's ways are wonderful! I have such news for you,
+my friend. I thank God, it came before you had gone beyond recall. And I,
+who had been the one, unwittingly, to add so terribly to the weight of
+the lifelong cross you had to bear, am privileged to be the one to lift
+it quite away. Jim--_you did not do it!_"
+
+Jim Airth gazed at her in troubled amazement. Into his mind,
+involuntarily, came the awesome Scotch word "fey."
+
+"I did not do what, dear?" he asked, gently, as if he were speaking to a
+little child whom he was anxious not to frighten.
+
+"You did not kill Michael."
+
+"What makes you think I did not kill Michael, dear?" questioned Jim
+Airth, gently.
+
+"Because," said Myra, with clasped hands, "Michael is alive."
+
+"Dearest heart," said Jim Airth, tenderly, "you are not well. These awful
+three weeks, and what went before, have been too much for you. The strain
+has upset you. I was a brute to go off and leave you. But you knew I did
+what I thought right at the time; didn't you, Myra? Only now I see the
+whole thing quite differently. Your view was the true one. We ought to
+have acted upon it, and been married at once."
+
+"Oh, Jim," said Myra, "thank God we didn't! It would have been so
+terrible now. It must have been a case of 'Even there shall Thy hand lead
+me, and Thy right hand shall hold me.' In our unconscious ignorance, we
+might have gone away together, not knowing Michael was alive."
+
+Beads of perspiration stood on Jim Airth's forehead.
+
+"My darling, you are ill," he said, in a voice of agonised anxiety. "I am
+afraid you are very ill. Do sit down quietly on the couch, and let me
+ring. I must speak to the O'Mara woman, or somebody. Why didn't the fools
+let me know? Have you been ill all these weeks?"
+
+Myra let him place her on the couch; smiling up at him reassuringly, as
+he stood before her.
+
+"You must not ring the bell, Jim," she said. "Maggie is at the Lodge; and
+Groatley would be so astonished. I am quite well."
+
+He looked around, in man-like helplessness; yet feeling something must be
+done. A long ivory fan, of exquisite workmanship, lay on a table near. He
+caught it up, and handed it to her. She took it; and to please him,
+opened it, fanning herself gently as she talked.
+
+"I am not ill, Jim; really dear, I am not. I am only strangely happy and
+thankful. It seems too wonderful for our poor earthly hearts to
+understand. And I am a little frightened about the future--but you will
+help me to face that, I know. And I am rather worried about little things
+I have done wrong. It seems foolish--but as soon as I realised Michael
+was coming home, I became conscious of hosts of sins of omission, and I
+scarcely know where to begin to set them right. And the worst of all
+is--Jim! we have lost little Peter's grave! No one seems able to locate
+it. It is so trying of the gardeners; and so wrong of me; because of
+course I ought to have planted it with flowers. And Michael would have
+expected a little marble slab, by now. But I, stupidly, was too ill to
+see to the funeral; and now Anson declares they put him in the
+plantation, and George swears it was in the shrubbery. I have been
+consulting Groatley who always has ideas, and expresses them so well, and
+he says: 'Choose a suitable spot, m' lady; order a handsome tomb; plant
+it with choice flowers; and who's to be the wiser, till the
+resurrection?' Groatley is always resourceful; but of course I never
+deceive Michael. Fancy little Peter rising from the shrubbery, when
+Michael had mourned for years over a marble tomb on the lawn! But it
+really is a great worry. They must all begin digging, and keep on until
+they find something definite. It will be good for the shrubbery and the
+plantation, like the silly old man in the parable--no, I mean fable--who
+pretended he had hidden a treasure. Oh, Jim, don't look so distressed. I
+ought not to pour out all these trivial things to you; but since I have
+known Michael is coming back, my mind seems to have become foolish and
+trivial again. Michael always has that effect upon me; because--though he
+himself is so great and clever--he really thinks trivial and unimportant
+things are a woman's vocation in life. But oh, Jim--Jim Airth--with _you_
+I am always lifted straight to the big things; and our big thing to-day
+is this:--that you never killed Michael. Do you remember telling me how,
+as you lay in your tent recovering from the fever, if some one could have
+come in and told you Michael was alive and well, and that you had not
+killed him after all, you would have given your life for the relief of
+that moment? Well, _I_ am that 'some one,' and _this_ is the 'moment';
+and when first I had the telegram I could think of nothing--absolutely
+nothing, Jim--but what it would be to you."
+
+"What telegram?" gasped Jim Airth. "In heaven's name, Myra, what do you
+mean?"
+
+"Michael's telegram. It lies on the mantelpiece. Read it, Jim."
+
+Jim Airth turned, took up the telegram and drew it from the envelope with
+steady fingers. He still thought Myra was raving.
+
+He read it through, slowly. The wording was unmistakable; but he read it
+through again. As he did so he slightly turned, so that his back was
+toward the couch.
+
+The blow was so stupendous. He could only realise one thing, for the
+moment:--that the woman who watched him read it, must not as yet see his
+face.
+
+She spoke.
+
+"Is it not almost impossible to believe, Jim? Ronald and Billy were
+lunching here, when it came. Billy seemed stunned; but Ronnie was
+delighted. He said he had always believed the first men to rush in had
+been captured, and that no actual proofs of Michael's death had ever been
+found. They never explained to me before, that there had been no funeral.
+I suppose they thought it would seem more horrible. But I never take much
+account of bodies. If it weren't for the burden of having a weird little
+urn about, and wondering what to do with it, I should approve of
+cremation. I sometimes felt I ought to make a pilgrimage to see the
+grave. I knew Michael would have wished it. He sets much store by
+graves--all the Inglebys lie in family vaults. That makes it worse about
+Peter. Ronnie went up to town at once to telegraph out the money. Billy
+went with him. Do you think five hundred is enough? Jim?--Jim! Are you
+not thankful? Do say something, Jim."
+
+Jim Airth put back the telegram upon the mantelpiece. His big hand
+shook.
+
+"What is 'Veritas'?" he asked, without looking round.
+
+"That is our private code, Jim; Michael's and mine. My mother once wired
+to me in Michael's name, and to him in mine--poor mamma often does
+eccentric things, to get her own way--and it made complications, Michael
+was very much annoyed. So we settled always to sign important telegrams
+'Veritas,' which means: 'This is really from me.'"
+
+"Then--your husband--is coming home to you?" said Jim Airth, slowly.
+
+"Yes, Jim," the sweet voice faltered, for the first time, and grew
+tremulous. "Michael is coming home."
+
+Then Jim Airth turned round, and faced her squarely. Myra had never seen
+anything so terrible as his face.
+
+"You are mine," he said; "not his."
+
+Myra looked up at him, in dumb sorrowful appeal. She closed the ivory
+fan, clasping her hands upon it. The unquestioning finality of her
+patient silence, goaded Jim Airth to madness, and let loose the torrent
+of his fierce wild protest against this inevitable--this unrelenting,
+fate.
+
+"You are mine," he said, "not his. Your love is mine! Your body is mine!
+Your whole life is mine! I will not leave you to another man. Ah, I know
+I said we could not marry! I know I said I should go abroad. But you
+would have remained faithful to me; and I, to you. We might have been
+apart; we might have been lonely; we might have been at different ends of
+the earth; but--we should have been each other's. I could have left you
+to loneliness; but, by God, I will not leave you to another!"
+
+Myra rose, moved forward a few steps and stood, leaning her arm upon the
+mantelpiece and looking down upon the bank of ferns and lilies.
+
+"Hush, Jim," she said, gently. "You forget to whom you are speaking."
+
+"I am speaking," cried Jim Airth, in furious desperation, "to the woman I
+have won for my own; and who is mine, and none other's. If it had not
+been for my pride and my folly, we should have been married by
+now--_married_, Myra--and far away. I left you, I know; but--by heaven, I
+may as well tell you all now--it was pride--damnable false pride--that
+drove me away. I always meant to come back. I was waiting for you to
+send; but anyhow I should have come back. Would to God I had done as you
+implored me to do! By now we should have been together--out of reach of
+this cursed telegram,--and far away!"
+
+Myra slowly lifted her eyes and looked at him. He, blinded by pain and
+passion, failed to mark the look, or he might have taken warning. As it
+was, he rushed on, headlong.
+
+Myra, very white, with eyelids lowered, leaned against the mantelpiece;
+slowly furling and unfurling the ivory fan.
+
+"But, darling," urged Jim Airth, "it is not yet too late. Oh, Myra, I
+have loved you so! Our love has been so wonderful. Have I not taught you
+what love is? The poor cold travesty you knew before--_that_ was not
+love! Oh, Myra! you will come away with me, my own beloved? You won't put
+me through the hell of leaving you to another man? Myra, look at me! Say
+you will come."
+
+Then Lady Ingleby slowly closed the fan, grasping it firmly in her right
+hand. She threw back her head, and looked Jim Airth full in the eyes.
+
+"So _this_ is your love," she said. "This is what it means? Then I thank
+God I have hitherto only known the 'cold travesty,' which at least has
+kept me pure, and held me high. What? Would you drag _me_ down to the
+level of the woman you have scorned for a dozen years? And, dragging me
+down, would you also trail, with me, in the mire, the noble name of the
+man whom you have ventured to call friend? My husband may not have given
+me much of those things a woman desires. But he has trusted me with his
+name, and with his honour; he has left me, mistress of his home. When he
+comes back he will find me what he himself made me--mistress of
+Shenstone; he will find me where he left me, awaiting his return. You are
+no longer speaking to a widow, Lord Airth; nor to a woman left desolate.
+You are speaking to Lord Ingleby's wife, and you may as well learn how
+Lord Ingleby's wife guards Lord Ingleby's name, and defends her own
+honour, and his." She lifted her hand swiftly and struck him, with the
+ivory fan, twice across the cheek. "Traitor!" she said, "and coward!
+Leave this house, and never set foot in it again!"
+
+Jim Airth staggered back, his face livid--ashen, his hand involuntarily
+raised to ward off a third blow. Then the furious blood surged back. Two
+crimson streaks marked his cheek. He sprang forward; with a swift
+movement caught the fan from Lady Ingleby's hands, and whirled it above
+his head. His eyes blazed into hers. For a moment she thought he was
+going to strike her. She neither flinched nor moved; only the faintest
+smile curved the corners of her mouth into a scornful question.
+
+Then Jim Airth gripped the fan in both hands; with a twist of his strong
+fingers snapped it in half, the halves into quarters, and again, with
+another wrench, crushed those into a hundred fragments--flung them at her
+feet; and, turning on his heel, left the room, and left the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+WHAT BILLY KNEW
+
+
+Ronald and Billy had spoken but little, as they sped to the railway
+station, earlier on that afternoon.
+
+"Rummy go," volunteered Ronald, launching the tentative comment into the
+somewhat oppressive silence.
+
+Billy made no rejoinder.
+
+"Why did you insist on coming with me?" asked Ronald.
+
+"I'm not coming with you," replied Billy laconically.
+
+"Where then, Billy? Why so tragic? Are you going to leap from London
+Bridge? Don't do it Billy-boy! You never had a chance. You were merely a
+nice kid. I'm the chap who might be tragic; and see--I'm going to the
+bank to despatch the wherewithal for bringing the old boy back. Take
+example by my fortitude, Billy."
+
+Billy's explosion, when it came, was so violent, so choice, and so unlike
+Billy, that Ronald relapsed into wondering silence.
+
+But once in the train, locked into an empty first-class smoker, Billy
+turned a white face to his friend.
+
+"Ronnie," he said, "I am going straight to Sir Deryck Brand. He is the
+only man I know, with a head on his shoulders."
+
+"Thank you," said Ronnie. "I suppose I dandle mine on my knee. But why
+this urgent need of a man with his head so uniquely placed?"
+
+"Because," said Billy, "that telegram is a lie."
+
+"Nonsense, Billy! The wish is father to the thought! Oh, shame on you,
+Billy! Poor old Ingleby!"
+
+"It is a lie," repeated Billy, doggedly.
+
+"But look," objected Ronald, unfolding the telegram. "Here you are.
+'_Veritas._' What do you make of that?"
+
+"Veritas be hanged!" said Billy. "It's a lie; and we've got to find out
+what damned rascal has sent it."
+
+"But what possible reason have you to throw doubt on it?" inquired
+Ronald, gravely.
+
+"Oh, confound you!" burst out Billy at last; "_I picked up the pieces!_"
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+A very nervous white-faced young man sat in the green leather armchair in
+Dr. Brand's consulting-room. He had shown the telegram, and jerked out a
+few incoherent sentences; after which Sir Deryck, by means of carefully
+chosen questions, had arrived at the main facts. He now sat at his table
+considering them.
+
+Then, turning in his revolving-chair, he looked steadily at Billy.
+
+"Cathcart," he said, quietly, "what reason have you for being so certain
+of Lord Ingleby's death, and that this telegram is therefore a forgery?"
+
+Billy moistened his lips. "Oh, confound it!" he said. "I picked up the
+pieces!"
+
+"I see," said Sir Deryck; and looked away.
+
+"I have never told a soul," said Billy. "It is not a pretty story. But I
+can give you details, if you like."
+
+"I think you had better give me details," said Sir Deryck, gravely.
+
+So, with white lips, Billy gave them.
+
+The doctor rose, buttoning his coat. Then he poured out a glass of water
+and handed it to Billy.
+
+"Come," he said. "Fortunately I know a very cute detective from our own
+London force who happens just now to be in Cairo. We must go to Scotland
+Yard for his address, and a code. In fact we had better work it through
+them. You have done the right thing, Billy; and done it promptly; but we
+have no time to lose."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Twenty-four hours later, the doctor called at Shenstone Park. He had
+telegraphed his train requesting to be met by the motor; and he now asked
+the chauffeur to wait at the door, in order to take him back to the
+station.
+
+"I could only come between trains," he explained to Lady Ingleby, "so you
+must forgive the short notice, and the peremptory tone of my telegram. I
+could not risk missing you. I have something of great importance to
+communicate."
+
+The doctor waited a moment, hardly knowing how to proceed. He had seen
+Myra Ingleby under many varying conditions. He knew her well; and she was
+a woman so invariably true to herself, that he expected to be able to
+foresee exactly how she would act under any given combination of
+circumstances.
+
+In this undreamed of development of Lord Ingleby's return, he anticipated
+finding her gently acquiescent; eagerly ready to resume again the duties
+of wifehood; with no thought of herself, but filled with anxious desire
+in all things to please the man who, with his whims and fancies, his
+foibles and ideas, had for nine months passed completely out of her life.
+Deryck Brand had expected to find Lady Ingleby in the mood of a typical
+April day, sunshine and showers rapidly alternating; whimsical smiles,
+succeeded by ready tears; then, with lashes still wet, gay laughter at
+some mistake of her own, or at incongruous behaviour on the part of her
+devoted but erratic household; speedily followed by pathetic anxiety over
+her own supposed short-comings in view of Lord Ingleby's requirements on
+his return.
+
+Instead of this charming personification of unselfish, inconsequent,
+tender femininity, the doctor found himself confronted by a calm cold
+woman, with hard unseeing eyes; a woman in whom something had died; and
+dying, had slain all the best and truest in her womanhood.
+
+"Another man," was the prompt conclusion at which the doctor arrived; and
+this conclusion, coupled with the exigency of his own pressing
+engagements, brought him without preamble, very promptly to the point.
+
+"Lady Ingleby," he said, "a cruel and heartless wrong has been done you
+by a despicable scoundrel, for whom no retribution would be too severe."
+
+"I am perfectly aware of that," replied Lady Ingleby, calmly; "but I fail
+to understand, Sir Deryck, why you should consider it necessary to come
+down here in order to discuss it."
+
+This most unexpected reply for a moment completely nonplussed the doctor.
+But rapid mental adjustment formed an important part of his professional
+equipment.
+
+"I fear we are speaking at cross-purposes," he said, gently. "Forgive me,
+if I appear to have trespassed upon a subject of which I have no
+knowledge whatever. I am referring to the telegram received by you
+yesterday, which led you to suppose the report of Lord Ingleby's death
+was a mistake, and that he might shortly be returning home."
+
+"My husband is alive," said Lady Ingleby. "He has telegraphed to me from
+Cairo, and I expect him back very soon."
+
+For answer, Deryck Brand drew from his pocket-book two telegrams.
+
+"I am bound to tell you at once, dear Lady Ingleby," he said, "that you
+have been cruelly deceived. The message from Cairo was a heartless fraud,
+designed in order to obtain money. Billy Cathcart had reason to suspect
+its genuineness, and brought it to me. I cabled at once to Cairo, with
+this result."
+
+He laid two telegrams on the table before her.
+
+"The first is a copy of one we sent yesterday to a detective out there.
+The second I received three hours ago. No one--not even Billy--has heard
+of its arrival. I have brought it immediately to you."
+
+Lady Ingleby slowly lifted the paper containing the first message. She
+read it in silence.
+
+  Watch Cook's bank and arrest man personating Lord Ingleby who will
+  call for draft of money. Cable particulars promptly.
+
+The doctor observed her closely as she laid down the first message
+without comment, and took up the second.
+
+  Former valet of Lord Ingleby's arrested. Confesses to despatch of
+  fraudulent telegram. Cable instructions.
+
+Lady Ingleby folded both papers and laid them on the table beside her.
+The calm impassivity of the white face had undergone no change.
+
+"It must have been Walker," she said. "Michael always considered him a
+scamp and shifty; but I delighted in him, because he played the banjo
+quite excellently, and was so useful at parish entertainments. Michael
+took him abroad; but had to dismiss him on landing. He wrote and told me
+the fact, but gave no reasons. Poor Walker! I do not wish him punished,
+because I know Michael would think it was largely my own fault for
+putting banjo-playing before character. If Walker had written me a
+begging letter, I should most likely have sent him the money. I have a
+fatal habit of believing in people, and of wanting everybody to be
+happy."
+
+Then, as if these last words recalled a momentarily forgotten wound, the
+stony apathy returned to voice and face.
+
+"If Michael is not coming back," said Lady Ingleby, "I am indeed alone."
+
+The doctor rose, and stood looking down upon her, perplexed and
+sorrowful.
+
+"Is there not some one who should be told immediately of this change of
+affairs, Lady Ingleby?" he asked, gravely.
+
+"No one," she replied, emphatically. "There is nobody whom it concerns
+intimately, excepting myself. And not many know of the arrival of
+yesterday's news. I wrote to Jane, and I suppose the boys told it at
+Overdene. If by any chance it gets into the papers, we must send a
+contradiction; but no explanation, please. I dislike the publication of
+wrong doing. It only leads to imitation and repetition. Beside, even a
+poor worm of a valet should be shielded if possible from public
+execration. We could not explain the extenuating circumstances."
+
+"I do not suppose the news has become widely known," said the doctor.
+"Your household heard it, of course?"
+
+"Yes," replied Lady Ingleby. "Ah, that reminds me, I must stop operations
+in the shrubbery and plantation. There is no object in little Peter
+having a grave, when his master has none."
+
+This was absolutely unintelligible to the doctor; but at such times he
+never asked unnecessary questions, for his own enlightenment.
+
+"So after all, Sir Deryck," added Lady Ingleby, "Peter was right."
+
+"Yes," said the doctor, "little Peter was not mistaken."
+
+"Had I remembered him, I might have doubted the telegram," remarked Lady
+Ingleby. "What can have aroused Billy's suspicions?"
+
+"Like Peter," said the doctor, "Billy had, from the first, felt very
+sure. Do not mention to him that I told you the doubts originated with
+him. He is a sensitive lad, and the whole thing has greatly distressed
+him."
+
+"Dear Billy," said Lady Ingleby.
+
+The doctor glanced at the clock, and buttoned his coat. He had one minute
+to spare.
+
+"My friend," he said, "a second time I have come as the bearer of evil
+tidings."
+
+"Not evil," replied Myra, in a tone of hopeless sadness. "This is not a
+world to which we could possibly desire the return of one we love."
+
+"There is nothing wrong with the world," said the doctor. "Our individual
+heaven or hell is brought about by our own actions."
+
+"Or by the actions of others," amended Lady Ingleby, bitterly.
+
+"Or by the actions of others," agreed the doctor. "But, even then, we
+cannot be completely happy, unless we are true to our best selves; nor
+wholly miserable, unless to our own ideals we become false. I fear I must
+be off; but I do not like leaving you thus alone."
+
+Lady Ingleby glanced at the clock, rose, and gave him her hand.
+
+"You have been more than kind, Sir Deryck, in coming to me yourself. I
+shall never forget it. And I am expecting Jane Champion--Dalmain, I mean;
+why do one's friends get married?--any minute. She is coming direct from
+town; the phaeton has gone to the station to meet her."
+
+"Good," said the doctor, and clasped her hand with the strong silent
+sympathy of a man who, desiring to help, yet realises himself in the
+presence of a grief he is powerless either to understand or to assuage.
+
+"Good--very good," he said, as he stepped into the motor, remarking to
+the chauffeur: "We have nine minutes; and if we miss the train, I must
+ask you to run me up to town."
+
+And he said it a third time, even more emphatically, when he had
+recovered from his surprise at that which he saw as the motor flew down
+the avenue. For, after passing Lady Ingleby's phaeton returning from the
+station empty excepting for a travelling coat and alligator bag left upon
+the seat, he saw the Honourable Mrs. Dalmain walking slowly beneath the
+trees, in earnest conversation with a very tall man, who carried his hat,
+letting the breeze blow through his thick rumpled hair. Both were too
+preoccupied to notice the motor, but as the man turned his haggard face
+toward his companion, the doctor saw in it the same stony look of
+hopeless despair, which had grieved and baffled him in Lady Ingleby's.
+The two were slowly wending their way toward the house, by a path leading
+down to the terrace.
+
+"Evidently--the man," thought the doctor. "Well, I am glad Jane has him
+in tow. Poor souls! Providence has placed them in wise hands. If faithful
+counsel and honest plain-speaking can avail them anything, they will
+undoubtedly receive both, from our good Jane."
+
+Providence also arranged that the London express was one minute late, and
+the doctor caught it. Whereat the chauffeur rejoiced; for he was "walking
+out" with Her ladyship's maid, whose evening off it chanced to be. The
+all-important events of life are apt to hang upon the happenings of one
+minute.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+MRS. DALMAIN REVIEWS THE SITUATION
+
+
+"So you see, Jane," concluded Lady Ingleby, pathetically, "as Michael is
+not coming back, I am indeed alone."
+
+"Loving Jim Airth as you do--" said Jane Dalmain.
+
+"Did," interposed Lady Ingleby.
+
+"Did, and do," said Jane Dalmain, "you would have been worse than alone
+if Michael had, after all, come back. Oh, Myra! I cannot imagine anything
+more unendurable, than to love one man, and be obliged to live with
+another."
+
+"I should not have allowed myself to go on loving Jim," said Lady
+Ingleby.
+
+"Rubbish!" pronounced Mrs. Dalmain, with forceful decision. "My dear
+Myra, that kind of remark paves the way for the devil, and is one of his
+favourite devices. More good women have been tripped by over-confidence
+in their ability to curb and to control their own affections, than by
+direct temptation to love where love is not lawful. Men are different;
+their temptations are not so subtle. They know exactly to what it will
+lead, if they dally with sentiment. Therefore, if they mean to do the
+right thing in the end, they keep clear of the danger at the beginning.
+We cannot possibly forbid ourselves to go on loving, where love has once
+been allowed to reign supreme. I know you would not, in the first
+instance, have let yourself care for Jim Airth, had you not been free.
+But, once loving him, if so appalling a situation could have arisen as
+the unexpected return of your husband, your only safe and honourable
+course would have been to frankly tell Lord Ingleby: 'I grew to love Jim
+Airth while I believed you dead. I shall always love Jim Airth; but, I
+want before all else to be a good woman and a faithful wife. Trust me to
+be faithful; help me to be good.' Any man, worth his salt, would respond
+to such an appeal."
+
+"And shoot himself?" suggested Lady Ingleby.
+
+"I said 'man,' not 'coward,'" responded Mrs. Dalmain, with fine scorn.
+
+"Jane, you are so strong-minded," murmured Lady Ingleby. "It goes with
+your linen collars, your tailor-made coats, and your big boots. I cannot
+picture myself in a linen collar, nor can I conceive of myself as
+standing before Michael and informing him that I loved Jim!"
+
+Jane Dalmain laughed good-humouredly, plunged her large hands into the
+pockets of her tweed coat, stretched out her serviceable brown boots and
+looked at them.
+
+"If by 'strong-minded' you mean a wholesome dislike to the involving of a
+straightforward situation in a tangle of disingenuous sophistry, I plead
+guilty," she said.
+
+"Oh, don't quote Sir Deryck," retorted Lady Ingleby, crossly. "You ought
+to have married him! I never could understand such an artist, such a
+poet, such an eclectic idealist as Garth Dalmain, falling in love with
+_you_, Jane!"
+
+A sudden light of womanly tenderness illumined Jane's plain face. "The
+wife" looked out from it, in simple unconscious radiance.
+
+"Nor could I," she answered softly. "It took me three years to realise it
+as an indubitable fact."
+
+"I suppose you are very happy," remarked Myra.
+
+Jane was silent. There were shrines in that strong nature too wholly
+sacred to be easily unveiled.
+
+"I remember how I hated the idea, after the accident," said Myra, "of
+your tying yourself to blindness."
+
+"Oh, hush," said Jane Dalmain, quickly. "You tread on sacred ground, and
+you forget to remove your shoes. From the first, the sweetest thing
+between my husband and myself has been that, together, we learned to kiss
+that cross."
+
+"Dear old thing!" said Lady Ingleby, affectionately; "you deserved to be
+happy. All the same I never can understand why you did not marry Deryck
+Brand."
+
+Jane smiled. She could not bring herself to discuss her husband, but she
+was very willing at this critical juncture to divert Lady Ingleby from
+her own troubles by entering into particulars concerning herself and the
+doctor.
+
+"My dear," she said, "Deryck and I were far too much alike ever to have
+dovetailed into marriage. All our points would have met, and our
+differences gaped wide. The qualities which go to the making of a perfect
+friendship by no means always ensure a perfect marriage. There was a time
+when I should have married Deryck had he asked me to do so, simply
+because I implicitly trusted his judgment in all things, and it would
+never have occurred to me to refuse him anything he asked. But it would
+not have resulted in our mutual happiness. Also, at that time, I had no
+idea what love really meant. I no more understood love until--until Garth
+taught me, than you understood it before you met Jim Airth."
+
+"I wish you would not keep on alluding to Jim Airth," said Myra, wearily.
+"I never wish to hear his name again. And I cannot allow you to suppose
+that I should ever have adopted your strong-minded suggestion, and
+admitted to Michael that I loved Jim. I should have done nothing of the
+kind. I should have devoted myself to pleasing Michael in all things, and
+_made myself_--yes, Jane; you need not look amused and incredulous;
+though I _don't_ wear collars and shooting-boots, I _can_ make myself do
+things--I should have made myself forget that there was such a person in
+this world as the Earl of Airth and Monteith."
+
+"Oh spare him that!" laughed Mrs. Dalmain. "Don't call the poor man by
+his titles. If he must be hanged, at least let him hang as plain Jim
+Airth. If one had to be wicked, it would be so infinitely worse to be a
+wicked earl, than wicked in any other walk of life. It savours so
+painfully of the 'penny-dreadful', or the cheap novelette. Also, my dear,
+there is nothing to be gained by discussing a hypothetical situation,
+with which you do not after all find yourself confronted. Mercifully,
+Lord Ingleby is not coming back."
+
+"Mercifully!" exclaimed Lady Ingleby. "Really, Jane, you are crude beyond
+words, and most unsympathetic. You should have heard how tactfully the
+doctor broke it to me, and how kindly he alluded to my loss."
+
+"My dear Myra," said Mrs. Dalmain, "I don't waste sympathy on false
+sentiment. And if Deryck had known you were already engaged to another
+man, instead of devoting to you four hours of his valuable time, he could
+have sent a sixpenny wire: 'Telegram a forgery. Accept heartfelt
+congratulations!'"
+
+"Jane, you are brutal. And seeing that I have just told you the whole
+story of these last weeks, with the cruel heart-breaking finale of
+yesterday, I fail to understand how you can speak of me as engaged to
+another man."
+
+Instantly Jane Dalmain's whole bearing altered. She ceased looking
+quizzically amused, and left off swinging her brown boot. She sat up,
+uncrossed her knees, and leaning her elbows upon them, held out her large
+capable hands to Lady Ingleby. Her noble face, grandly strong and tender,
+in its undeniable plainness, was full of womanly understanding and
+sympathy.
+
+"Ah, my dear," she said, "now we must come to the crux of the whole
+matter. I have merely been playing around the fringe of the subject, in
+order to give you time to recover from the inevitable strain of the long
+and painful recital you have felt it necessary to make, in order that I
+might fully understand your position in all its bearings. The real
+question is this: Are you going to forgive Jim Airth?"
+
+"I must never forgive him," said Lady Ingleby, with finality, "because,
+if I forgave him, I could not let him go."
+
+"Why let him go, when his going leaves your whole life desolate?"
+
+"Because," said Myra, "I feel I could not trust him; and I dare not marry
+a man whom I love as I love Jim Airth, unless I can trust him as
+implicitly as I trust my God. If I loved him less, I would take the risk.
+But I feel, for him, something which I can neither understand nor define;
+only I know that in time it would make him so completely master of me
+that, unless I could trust him absolutely--I should be afraid."
+
+"Is a man never to be trusted again," asked Jane, "because, under sudden
+fierce temptation, he has failed you once?"
+
+"It is not the failing once," said Myra. "It is the light thrown upon the
+whole quality of his love--of that _kind_ of love. The passion of it
+makes it selfish--selfish to the degree of being utterly regardless of
+right and wrong, and careless of the welfare of its unfortunate object.
+My fair name would have been smirched; my honour dragged in the mire; my
+present, blighted; my future, ruined; but what did _he_ care? It was all
+swept aside in the one sentence: 'You are mine, not his. You must come
+away with me.' I cannot trust myself to a love which has no standard of
+right and wrong. We look at it from different points of view. _You_ see
+only the man and his temptation. _I_ knew the priceless treasure of the
+love; therefore the sin against that love seems to me unforgivable."
+
+Mrs. Dalmain looked earnestly at her friend. Her steadfast eyes were
+deeply troubled.
+
+"Myra," she said, "you are absolutely right in your definitions, and
+correct in your conclusions. But your mistake is this. You make no
+allowance for the sudden, desperate, overwhelming nature of the
+temptation before which Jim Airth fell. Remember all that led up to it.
+Think of it, Myra! He stood so alone in the world; no mother, no wife, no
+woman's tenderness. And those ten hard years of worse than loneliness,
+when he fought the horrors of disillusion, the shame of betrayal, the
+bitterness of desertion; the humiliation of the stain upon his noble
+name. Against all this, during ten long years, he struggled; fought a
+manful fight, and overcame. Then--strong, hardened, lonely; a man grown
+to man's full heritage of self-contained independence--he met you, Myra.
+His ideals returned, purified and strengthened by their passage through
+the fire. Love came, now, in such gigantic force, that the pigmy passion
+of early youth was dwarfed and superseded. It seemed a new and untasted
+experience such as he had not dreamed life could contain. Three weeks of
+it, he had; growing in certainty, increasing in richness, every day; yet
+tempered by the patient waiting your pleasure, for eagerly expected
+fulfilment. Then the blow--so terrible to his sensibilities and to his
+manly pride; the horrible knowledge that his own hand had brought loss
+and sorrow to you, whom he would have shielded from the faintest shadow
+of pain. Then his mistake in allowing false pride to come between you.
+Three weeks of growing hunger and regret, followed by your summons, which
+seemed to promise happiness after all; for, remember while _you_ had been
+bringing yourself to acquiesce in his decision as absolutely final, so
+that the news of Lord Ingleby's return meant no loss to you and to him,
+merely the relief of his exculpation, _he_ had been coming round to a
+more reasonable point of view, and realising that, after all, he had not
+lost you. You sent for him, and he came--once more aglow with love and
+certainty--only to hear that he had not only lost you himself, but must
+leave you to another man. Oh Myra! Can you not make allowance for a
+moment of fierce madness? Can you not see that the very strength of the
+man momentarily turned in the wrong direction, brought about his
+downfall? You tell me you called him coward and traitor? You might as
+well have struck him! Such words from your lips must have been worse than
+blows. I admit he deserved them; yet Saint Peter was thrice a coward and
+a traitor, but his Lord, making allowance for a sudden yielding to
+temptation, did not doubt the loyalty of his love, but gave him a chance
+of threefold public confession, and forgave him. If Divine Love could do
+this--oh, Myra, can _you_ let your lover go out into the world again,
+alone, without one word of forgiveness?"
+
+"How do I know he wants my forgiveness, Jane? He left me in a towering
+fury. And how could my forgiveness reach him, even supposing he desired
+it, or I could give it? Where is he now?"
+
+"He left you in despair," said Mrs. Dalmain, "and--he is in the
+library."
+
+Lady Ingleby rose to her feet.
+
+"Jane! Jim Airth in this house! Who admitted him?"
+
+"I did," replied Mrs. Dalmain, coolly. "I smuggled him in. Not a soul saw
+us enter. That was why I sent the carriage on ahead, when we reached the
+park gates. We walked up the avenue, turned down on to the terrace and
+slipped in by the lower door. He has been sitting in the library ever
+since. If you decide not to see him, I can go down and tell him so; he
+can go out as he came in, and none of your household will know he has
+been here. Dear Myra, don't look so distraught. Do sit down again, and
+let us finish our talk.... That is right. You must not be hurried. A
+decision which affects one's whole life, cannot be made in a minute, nor
+even in an hour. Lord Airth does not wish to force an interview, nor do I
+wish to persuade you to grant him one. He will not be surprised if I
+bring him word that you would rather not see him."
+
+"Rather not?" cried Myra, with clasped hands. "Oh Jane, if you could know
+what the mere thought of seeing him means to me, you would not say
+'rather not,' but 'dare not.'"
+
+"Let me tell you how we met," said Mrs. Dalmain, ignoring the last
+remark. "I reached Charing Cross in good time; stopped at the book stall
+for a supply of papers; secured an empty compartment, and settled down to
+a quiet hour. Jim Airth dashed into the station with barely one minute in
+which to take his ticket and reach the train. He tore up the platform, as
+the train began to move; had not time to reach a smoker; wrenched open
+the door of my compartment; jumped in headlong, and sat down upon my
+papers; turned to apologise, and found himself shut in alone for an hour
+with the friend to whom you had written weekly letters from Cornwall, and
+of whom you had apparently told him rather nice things--or, at all events
+things which led him to consider me trustworthy. He recognised me by a
+recent photograph which you had shown him."
+
+"I remember," said Myra. "I kept it in my writing-case. He took it up and
+looked at it several times. I often spoke to him of you."
+
+"He introduced himself with straightforward simplicity," continued Mrs.
+Dalmain, "and then--we neither of us knew quite how it happened--in a few
+minutes we were talking without reserve. I believe he felt frankness with
+me on his part might enable me, in the future, to be a comfort to
+you--you are his one thought; also, that if I interceded, you would
+perhaps grant him that which he came to seek--the opportunity to ask your
+forgiveness. Of course we neither of us had the slightest idea of the
+possibility that yesterday's telegram could be incorrect. He sails for
+America almost immediately, but could not bring himself to leave England
+without having expressed to you his contrition, and obtained your pardon.
+He would have written, but did not feel he ought, for your sake, to run
+the risk of putting explanations on to paper. Also I honestly believe it
+is breaking his heart, poor fellow, to feel that you and he parted
+forever, in anger. His love for you is a very great love, Myra."
+
+"Oh, Jane," cried Lady Ingleby, "I cannot let him go! And yet--I _cannot_
+marry him. I love him with every fibre of my whole being, and yet I
+cannot trust him. Oh, Jane, what shall I do?"
+
+"You must give him a chance," said Mrs. Dalmain, "to retrieve his
+mistake, and to prove himself the man we know him to be. Say to him,
+without explanation, what you have just said to me: that you _cannot let
+him go_; and see how he takes it. Listen, Myra. The unforeseen
+developments of the last few hours have put it into your power to give
+Jim Airth his chance. You must not rob him of it. Years ago, when Garth
+and I were in an apparently hopeless tangle of irretrievable mistake,
+Deryck found us a way out. He said if Garth could go _behind his
+blindness_ and express an opinion which he only could have given while he
+had his sight, the question might be solved. I need not trouble you with
+details, but that was exactly what happened, and our great happiness
+resulted. Now, in your case, Jim Airth must be given the chance to go
+_behind his madness_, regain his own self-respect, and prove himself
+worthy of your trust. Have you told any one of the second telegram from
+Cairo?"
+
+"I saw nobody," said Lady Ingleby, "from the moment Sir Deryck left me,
+until you walked in."
+
+"Very well. Then you, and Deryck, and I, are the only people in England
+who know of it. Jim Airth will have no idea of any change of conditions
+since yesterday. Do you see what that means, Myra?"
+
+Lady Ingleby's pale face flushed. "Oh Jane, I dare not! If he failed
+again----"
+
+"He will not fail," replied Mrs. Dalmain, with decision; "but should he
+do so, he will have proved himself, as you say, unworthy of your trust.
+Then--you can forgive him, and let him go."
+
+"I cannot let him go!" cried Myra. "And yet I cannot marry him, unless he
+is all I have believed him to be."
+
+"Ah, my dear, my dear!" said Mrs. Dalmain, tenderly. "You need to learn a
+lesson about married life. True happiness does not come from marrying an
+idol throned on a pedestal. Before Galatea could wed Pygmalion, she had
+to change from marble into glowing flesh and blood, and step down from
+off her pedestal. Love should not make us blind to one another's faults.
+It should only make us infinitely tender, and completely understanding.
+Let me tell you a shrewd remark of Aunt Georgina's on that subject.
+Speaking to a young married woman who considered herself wronged and
+disillusioned because, the honeymoon over, she discovered her husband not
+to be in all things absolutely perfect: 'Ah, my good girl,' said Aunt
+'Gina, rapping the floor with her ebony cane; 'you made a foolish mistake
+if you imagined you were marrying an angel, when we have it, on the very
+highest authority, that the angels neither marry nor are given in
+marriage. Men and women, who are human enough to marry, are human enough
+to be full of faults; and the best thing marriage provides is that each
+gets somebody who will love, forgive, and understand. If you had waited
+for perfection, you would have reached heaven a spinster, which would
+have been, to say the least of it, dull--when you had had the chance of
+matrimony on earth! Go and make it up with that nice boy of yours, or I
+shall find him some pretty--' But the little bride, her anger dissolving
+in laughter and tears, had fled across the lawn in pursuit of a tall
+figure in tweeds, stalking in solitary dudgeon towards the river. They
+disappeared into the boathouse, and soon after we saw them in a tiny
+skiff for two, and heard their happy laughter. 'Silly babies!' said Aunt
+'Gina, crossly, 'they'll do it once too often, when I'm not there to
+spank them; and then there'll be a shipwreck! Oh, why did Adam marry, and
+spoil that peaceful garden?' Whereat Tommy, the old scarlet macaw, swung
+head downwards from his golden perch, with such shrieks of delighted
+laughter, mingled with appropriate profanity, that Aunt 'Gina's
+good-humour was instantly restored. 'Give him a strawberry, somebody!'
+she said; and spoke no more on things matrimonial."
+
+Myra laughed. "The duchess's views are always refreshing. I wonder
+whether Michael and I made the mistake of not realising each other to be
+human; of not admitting there was anything to forgive, and therefore
+never forgiving?"
+
+"Well, don't make it with Jim Airth," advised Mrs. Dalmain, "for he is
+the most human man I ever met; also the strongest, and one of the most
+lovable. Myra, there is nothing to be gained by waiting. Let me send him
+to you now; and, remember, all he asks or expects is one word of
+forgiveness."
+
+"Oh, Jane!" cried Lady Ingleby, with clasped hands. "Do wait a little
+while. Give me time to think; time to consider; time to decide."
+
+"Nonsense, my dear," said Mrs. Dalmain, "When but one right course lies
+before you, there can be no possible need for hesitation or
+consideration. You are merely nervously postponing the inevitable. You
+remind me of scenes we used to have in the out-patient department of a
+hospital in the East End of London, to which I once went for training.
+When patients came to the surgery for teeth extraction, and the pretty
+sympathetic little nurse in charge had got them safely fixed into the
+chair; as one of the doctors, prompt and alert, came forward with
+unmistakably business-like forceps ready, the terrified patient would
+exclaim: 'Oh, let the nurse do it! Let the nurse do it!' the idea
+evidently being that three or four diffident pulls by the nurse, were
+less alarming than the sharp certainty of _one_ from the doctor. Now, my
+dear Myra, you have to face your ordeal. If it is to be successful there
+must be no uncertainty."
+
+"Oh, Jane, I wish you were not such a decided person. I am sure when
+_you_ were the nurse, the poor things preferred the doctors. I am
+terrified; yet I know you are right. And, oh, you dear, don't leave me!
+See me through."
+
+"I am never away from Garth for a night, as you know," said Mrs. Dalmain.
+"But he and little Geoff went down to Overdene this morning, with Simpson
+and nurse; so, if your man can motor me over during the evening, I will
+stay as long as you need me."
+
+"Ah, thanks," said Lady Ingleby. "And now, Jane, you have done all you
+can for me; and God knows how much that means. I want to be quite alone
+for an hour. I feel I must face it out, and decide what I really intend
+doing. I owe it to Jim, I owe it to myself, to be quite sure what I mean
+to say, before I see him. Order tea in the library. Tell him I will see
+him; and, at the end of the hour, send him here. But, Jane--not a hint of
+anything which has passed between us. I may rely on you?"
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Dalmain, gently, "I play the game!"
+
+She rose and stood on the hearthrug, looking intently at her husband's
+painting of Lord Ingleby.
+
+"And, Myra," she said at last, "I do entreat you to remember, you are
+dealing with an unknown quantity. You have never before known intimately
+a man of Jim Airth's temperament. His love for you, and yours for him,
+hold elements as yet not fully understood by you. Remember this, in
+drawing your conclusions. I had almost said, Let instinct guide, rather
+than reason."
+
+"I understand your meaning," said Lady Ingleby. "But I dare not depend
+upon either instinct or reason. I have not been a religious woman, Jane,
+as of course you know; but--I have been learning lately; and, as I learn,
+I try to practise. I feel myself to be in so dark and difficult a place,
+that I am trying to say, 'Even _there_ shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy
+right Hand shall hold me.'"
+
+"Ah, you are right," said Jane's deep earnest voice; "that is the best of
+all. God's hand alone leads surely, out of darkness into light."
+
+She put a kind arm firmly around her friend, for a moment.
+
+Then:--"I will send him to you in an hour," she said, and left the room.
+
+Lady Ingleby was alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE TEST
+
+
+The door of Myra's sitting-room opened quietly, and Jim Airth came in.
+
+She awaited him upon the couch, sitting very still, her hands folded in
+her lap.
+
+The room seemed full of flowers, and of soft sunset light.
+
+He closed the door, and came and stood before her.
+
+For a few moments they looked steadily into one another's faces.
+
+Then Jim Airth spoke, very low.
+
+"It is so good of you to see me," he said. "It is almost more than I had
+ventured to hope. I am leaving England in a few hours. It would have been
+hard to go--without this. Now it will be easy."
+
+She lifted her eyes to his, and waited in silence.
+
+"Myra," he said, "can you forgive me?"
+
+"I do not know, Jim," she answered, gently. "I want to be quite honest
+with you, and with myself. If I had cared less, I could have forgiven
+more easily."
+
+"I know," he said. "Oh, Myra, I know. And I would not have you forgive
+lightly, so great a sin against our love. But, dear--if, before I go, you
+could say, 'I understand,' it would mean almost more to me, than if you
+said, 'I forgive.'"
+
+"Jim," said Myra, gently, a tremor of tenderness in her sweet voice, "I
+understand."
+
+He came quite near, and took her hands in his, holding them for a moment,
+with tender reverence.
+
+"Thank you, dear," he said. "You are very good."
+
+He loosed her hands, and again she folded them in her lap. He walked to
+the mantelpiece and stood looking down upon the ferns and lilies.
+
+She marked the stoop of his broad shoulders; the way in which he seemed
+to find it difficult to hold up his head. Where was the proud gay
+carriage of the man who swung along the Cornish cliffs, whistling like a
+blackbird?
+
+"Jim," she said, "understanding fully, of course I forgive fully, if it
+is possible that between you and me, forgiveness should pass. I have been
+thinking it over, since I knew you were in the house, and wondering why I
+feel it so impossible to say, 'I forgive you.' And, Jim--I think it is
+because you and I are so _one_ that there is no room for such a thing as
+forgiveness to pass from me to you, or from you to me. Complete
+comprehension and unfailing love, take the place of what would be
+forgiveness between those who were less to each other."
+
+He lifted his eyes, for a moment, full of a dumb anguish, which wrung her
+heart.
+
+"Myra, I must go," he said, brokenly. "There was so much I had to tell
+you; so much to explain. But all need of this seems swept away by your
+divine tenderness and comprehension. All my life through I shall carry
+with me, deep hidden in my heart, these words of yours. Oh, my dear--my
+dear! Don't speak again! Let them be the last. Only--may I say it?--never
+let thoughts of me, sadden your fair life. I am going to America--a grand
+place for fresh beginnings; a land where one can work, and truly live; a
+land where earnest endeavour meets with fullest success, and where a
+man's energy may have full scope. I want you to think of me, Myra, as
+living, and working, and striving; not going under. But, if ever I feel
+like going under, I shall hear your dear voice singing at my shoulder, in
+the little Cornish church, on the quiet Sabbath evening, in the sunset:
+'Eternal Father, strong to save,' ... And--when I think of you, my
+dear--my dear; I shall know your life is being good and beautiful every
+hour, and that you are happy with--" he lifted his eyes to Lord Ingleby's
+portrait; they dwelt for a moment on the kind quiet face--"with one of
+the best of men," said Jim Airth, bravely
+
+He took a last look at her face. Silent tears stole slowly down it, and
+fell upon her folded hands.
+
+A spasm of anguish shot across Jim Airth's set features.
+
+"Ah, I must go," he said, suddenly. "God keep you, always."
+
+He turned so quickly, that his hand was actually upon the handle of the
+door, before Myra reached him, though she sprang up, and flew across the
+room.
+
+"Jim," she said, breathlessly. "Stop, Jim! Ah, stop! Listen! Wait!--Jim,
+I have always known--I told Jane so--that if I forgave you, I could not
+let you go." She flung her arms around his neck, as he stood gazing at
+her in dumb bewilderment. "Jim, my beloved! I cannot let you go; or, if
+you go, you must take me with you. I cannot live without you, Jim
+Airth!"
+
+For the space of a dozen heart-beats he stood silent, while she hung
+around him; her head upon his breast, her clinging arms about his neck.
+
+Then a cry so terrible burst from him, that Myra's heart stood still.
+
+"Oh, my God," he cried, "this is the worst of all! Have I, in falling,
+dragged _her_ down? Now, indeed am I broken--broken. What was the loss of
+my own pride, my own honour, my own self-esteem, to this? Have I soiled
+her fair whiteness; weakened the noble strength of her sweet purity? Oh,
+not this--my God, not this!"
+
+He lifted his hands to his neck, took hers by the wrists, and forcibly
+drew them down, stepping back a pace, so that she must lift her head.
+
+Then, holding her hands against his breast: "Lady Ingleby," he said,
+"lift your eyes, and look into my face."
+
+Slowly--slowly--Myra lifted her grey eyes. The fire of his held her; she
+felt the strength of him mastering her, as it had often done before. She
+could scarcely see the anguish in his face, so vivid was the blaze of his
+blue eyes.
+
+"Lady Ingleby," he said, and the grip of his hands on hers, tightened.
+"Lady Ingleby--we stood like this together, you and I, on a fast
+narrowing strip of sand. The cruel sea swept up, relentless. A high cliff
+rose in front--our only refuge. I held you thus, and said: 'We must
+climb--or drown.' Do you remember?--I say it now, again. The only
+possible right thing to do is steep and difficult; but we must climb. We
+must mount above our lower selves; away from this narrowing strip of
+dangerous sand; away from this cruel sea of fierce temptation; up to the
+breezy cliff-top, up to the blue above, into the open of honour and right
+and perfect purity. You stood there, until now; you stood there--brave
+and beautiful. I dragged you down--God forgive me, I brought you into
+danger--Hush! listen! You must climb again; you must climb alone; but
+when I am gone, your climbing will be easy. You will soon find yourself
+standing, safe and high, above these treacherous dangerous waters.
+Forgive me, if I seem rough." He forced her gently backwards to the
+couch. "Sit there," he said, "and do not rise, until I have left the
+house. And if ever these moments come back to you, Lady Ingleby,
+remember, the whole blame was mine.... Hush, I tell you; hush! And will
+you loose my hands?"
+
+But Myra clung to those big hands, laughing, and weeping, and striving to
+speak.
+
+"Oh, Jim--my Jim!--you can't leave me to climb alone, because I am all
+your own, and free to be yours and no other man's, and together, thank
+God, we can stand on the cliff-top where His hand has led us.
+Dearest--Jim, dearest--don't pull away from me, because I must cling on,
+until you have read these telegrams. Oh, Jim, read them quickly! ... Sir
+Deryck Brand brought them down from town this afternoon. And oh, forgive
+me that I did not tell you at once.... I wanted you to prove yourself,
+what I knew you to be, faithful, loyal, honourable, brave, the man of all
+men whom I trust; the man who will never fail me in the upward climb,
+until we stand together beneath the blue on the heights of God's eternal
+hills.... Oh, Jim----"
+
+Her voice faltered into silence; for Jim Airth knelt at her feet, his
+head in her lap, his arms flung around her, and he was sobbing as only a
+strong man can sob, when his heart has been strained to breaking point,
+and sudden relief has come.
+
+Myra laid her hands, gently, upon the roughness of his hair. Thus they
+stayed long, without speaking or moving.
+
+And in those sacred minutes Myra learned the lesson which ten years of
+wedded life had failed to teach: that in the strongest man there is,
+sometimes, the eternal child--eager, masterful, dependent, full of
+needs; and that, in every woman's love there must therefore be an
+element of the eternal mother--tender, understanding, patient; wise, yet
+self-surrendering; able to bear; ready to forgive; her strength made
+perfect in weakness.
+
+At length Jim Airth lifted his head.
+
+The last beams of the setting sun, entering through the western window,
+illumined, with a ray of golden glory, the lovely face above him. But he
+saw on it a radiance more bright than the reflected glory of any earthly
+sunset.
+
+"Myra?" he said, awe and wonder in his voice. "Myra? What is it?"
+
+And clasping her hands about his neck as he knelt before her, she drew
+his head to her breast, and answered:
+
+"I have learnt a lesson, my beloved; a lesson only you could teach. And I
+am very happy and thankful, Jim; because I know, that at last, I--even
+I--am ready for wifehood."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+"WHAT SHALL WE WRITE?"
+
+
+The hall at the Moorhead Inn seemed very homelike to Jim Airth and Myra,
+as they stood together looking around it, on their arrival.
+
+Jim had set his heart upon bringing his wife there, on the evening of
+their wedding day. Therefore they had left town immediately after the
+ceremony; dined _en route_, and now stood, as they had so often stood
+before when bidding one another good-night, in the lamp-light, beside the
+marble table.
+
+"Oh, Jim dear," whispered Myra, throwing back her travelling cloak,
+"doesn't it all seem natural? Look at the old clock! Five minutes past
+ten. The Miss Murgatroyds must have gone up, in staid procession, exactly
+four minutes ago. Look at the stag's head! There is the antler, on the
+topmost point of which you always hung your cap."
+
+"Myra----"
+
+"Yes, dear. Oh, I hope the Murgatroyds are still here. Let's look in the
+book.... Yes, see! Here are their names with date of arrival, but none of
+departure. And, oh, dearest, here is 'Jim Airth,' as I first saw it
+written; and look at 'Mrs. O'Mara' just beneath it! How well I remember
+glancing back from the turn of the staircase, seeing you come out and
+read it, and wishing I had written it better. You can set me plenty of
+copies now, Jim."
+
+"Myra!----"
+
+"Yes, dear. Do you know I am going to fly up and unpack. Then I will come
+out to the honeysuckle arbour and sit with you while you smoke. And we
+need not mind being late; because the dear ladies, not knowing we have
+returned, will not all be sleeping with doors ajar. But oh Jim, you
+_must_--however late it is--plump your boots out into the passage, just
+for the fun of making Miss Susannah's heart jump unexpectedly."
+
+"Myra! Oh, I say! My wife----"
+
+"Yes, darling, I know! But I am perfectly certain 'Aunt Ingleby' is
+peeping out of her little office at the end of the passage; also, Polly
+has finished helping Sam place our luggage upstairs, and I can _feel_
+her, hanging over the top banisters! Be patient for just a little while,
+my Jim. Let's put our names in the visitors' book. What shall we write?
+Really we shall be obliged eventually to let them know who you are. Think
+what an excitement for the Miss Murgatroyds. But, just for once, I am
+going to write myself down by the name, of all others, I have most wished
+to bear."
+
+So, smiling gaily up at her husband, then bending over the table to hide
+her happy face from the adoration of his eyes, the newly-made Countess of
+Airth and Monteith took up the pen; and, without pausing to remove her
+glove, wrote in the visitors' book of the Moorhead Inn, in the clear bold
+handwriting peculiarly her own:
+
+Mrs. Jim Airth
+
+----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE MASTER'S VIOLIN
+By MYRTLE REED
+
+A Love Story with a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German
+virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine Cremona. He consents to
+take as his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for
+technique, but not the soul of the artist. The youth has led the happy,
+careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American, and he cannot, with
+his meagre past, express the love, the longing, the passion and the
+tragedies of life and its happy phases as can the master who has lived
+life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his existence, a beautiful
+bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart and home;
+and through his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life
+has to give--and his soul awakens.
+
+Founded on a fact well known among artists, but not often recognized or
+discussed.
+
+If you have not read "Lavender and Old Lace" by the same author, you have
+a double pleasure in store--for these two books show Myrtle Reed in her
+most delightful, fascinating vein--indeed they may be considered as
+masterpieces of compelling interest.
+
+Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK
+
+----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE PRODIGAL JUDGE
+By VAUGHAN KESTER
+
+This great novel--probably the most popular book in this country
+to-day--is as human as a story from the pen of that great master of
+"immortal laughter and immortal tears," Charles Dickens.
+
+The Prodigal Judge is a shabby outcast, a tavern hanger-on, a genial
+wayfarer who tarries longest where the inn is most hospitable, yet with
+that suavity, that distinctive politeness and that saving grace of humor
+peculiar to the American man. He has his own code of morals--very exalted
+ones--but honors them in the breach rather than in the observance.
+
+Clinging to the Judge closer than a brother, is Solomon Mahaffy--fallible
+and failing like the rest of us, but with a sublime capacity for
+friendship; and closer still, perhaps, clings little Hannibal, a boy
+about whose parentage nothing is known until the end of the story.
+Hannibal is charmed into tolerance of the Judge's picturesque vices,
+while Miss Betty, lovely and capricious, is charmed into placing all her
+affairs, both material and sentimental, in the hands of this delightful
+old vagabond.
+
+The Judge will be a fixed star in the firmament of fictional characters
+as surely as David Harum or Col. Sellers. He is a source of infinite
+delight, while this story of Mr. Roster's is one of the finest examples
+of American literary craftmanship.
+
+Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Mistress of Shenstone, by Florence L. Barclay
+
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