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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid, by
+Thomas Hardy
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world 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.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid
+
+
+Author: Thomas Hardy
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2015  [eBook #2996]
+[This file was first posted on October 12, 2000]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A
+MILKMAID***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1920 Macmillan and Co. _A Changed Man and Other
+Tales_ edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+
+
+
+
+                  THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A MILKMAID.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+IT was half-past four o’clock (by the testimony of the land-surveyor, my
+authority for the particulars of this story, a gentleman with the
+faintest curve of humour on his lips); it was half-past four o’clock on a
+May morning in the eighteen forties.  A dense white fog hung over the
+Valley of the Exe, ending against the hills on either side.
+
+But though nothing in the vale could be seen from higher ground, notes of
+differing kinds gave pretty clear indications that bustling life was
+going on there.  This audible presence and visual absence of an active
+scene had a peculiar effect above the fog level.  Nature had laid a white
+hand over the creatures ensconced within the vale, as a hand might be
+laid over a nest of chirping birds.
+
+The noises that ascended through the pallid coverlid were perturbed
+lowings, mingled with human voices in sharps and flats, and the bark of a
+dog.  These, followed by the slamming of a gate, explained as well as
+eyesight could have done, to any inhabitant of the district, that
+Dairyman Tucker’s under-milker was driving the cows from the meads into
+the stalls.  When a rougher accent joined in the vociferations of man and
+beast, it would have been realized that the dairy-farmer himself had come
+out to meet the cows, pail in hand, and white pinafore on; and when,
+moreover, some women’s voices joined in the chorus, that the cows were
+stalled and proceedings about to commence.
+
+A hush followed, the atmosphere being so stagnant that the milk could be
+heard buzzing into the pails, together with occasional words of the
+milkmaids and men.
+
+‘Don’t ye bide about long upon the road, Margery.  You can be back again
+by skimming-time.’
+
+The rough voice of Dairyman Tucker was the vehicle of this remark.  The
+barton-gate slammed again, and in two or three minutes a something became
+visible, rising out of the fog in that quarter.
+
+The shape revealed itself as that of a woman having a young and agile
+gait.  The colours and other details of her dress were then disclosed—a
+bright pink cotton frock (because winter was over); a small woollen shawl
+of shepherd’s plaid (because summer was not come); a white handkerchief
+tied over her head-gear, because it was so foggy, so damp, and so early;
+and a straw bonnet and ribbons peeping from under the handkerchief,
+because it was likely to be a sunny May day.
+
+Her face was of the hereditary type among families down in these parts:
+sweet in expression, perfect in hue, and somewhat irregular in feature.
+Her eyes were of a liquid brown.  On her arm she carried a withy basket,
+in which lay several butter-rolls in a nest of wet cabbage-leaves.  She
+was the ‘Margery’ who had been told not to ‘bide about long upon the
+road.’
+
+She went on her way across the fields, sometimes above the fog, sometimes
+below it, not much perplexed by its presence except when the track was so
+indefinite that it ceased to be a guide to the next stile.  The dampness
+was such that innumerable earthworms lay in couples across the path till,
+startled even by her light tread, they withdrew suddenly into their
+holes.  She kept clear of all trees.  Why was that?  There was no danger
+of lightning on such a morning as this.  But though the roads were dry
+the fog had gathered in the boughs, causing them to set up such a
+dripping as would go clean through the protecting handkerchief like
+bullets, and spoil the ribbons beneath.  The beech and ash were
+particularly shunned, for they dripped more maliciously than any.  It was
+an instance of woman’s keen appreciativeness of nature’s moods and
+peculiarities: a man crossing those fields might hardly have perceived
+that the trees dripped at all.
+
+In less than an hour she had traversed a distance of four miles, and
+arrived at a latticed cottage in a secluded spot.  An elderly woman,
+scarce awake, answered her knocking.  Margery delivered up the butter,
+and said, ‘How is granny this morning?  I can’t stay to go up to her, but
+tell her I have returned what we owed her.’
+
+Her grandmother was no worse than usual: and receiving back the empty
+basket the girl proceeded to carry out some intention which had not been
+included in her orders.  Instead of returning to the light labours of
+skimming-time, she hastened on, her direction being towards a little
+neighbouring town.  Before, however, Margery had proceeded far, she met
+the postman, laden to the neck with letter-bags, of which he had not yet
+deposited one.
+
+‘Are the shops open yet, Samuel?’ she said.
+
+‘O no,’ replied that stooping pedestrian, not waiting to stand upright.
+‘They won’t be open yet this hour, except the saddler and ironmonger and
+little tacker-haired machine-man for the farm folk.  They downs their
+shutters at half-past six, then the baker’s at half-past seven, then the
+draper’s at eight.’
+
+‘O, the draper’s at eight.’  It was plain that Margery had wanted the
+draper’s.
+
+The postman turned up a side-path, and the young girl, as though deciding
+within herself that if she could not go shopping at once she might as
+well get back for the skimming, retraced her steps.
+
+The public road home from this point was easy but devious.  By far the
+nearest way was by getting over a fence, and crossing the private grounds
+of a picturesque old country-house, whose chimneys were just visible
+through the trees.  As the house had been shut up for many months, the
+girl decided to take the straight cut.  She pushed her way through the
+laurel bushes, sheltering her bonnet with the shawl as an additional
+safeguard, scrambled over an inner boundary, went along through more
+shrubberies, and stood ready to emerge upon the open lawn.  Before doing
+so she looked around in the wary manner of a poacher.  It was not the
+first time that she had broken fence in her life; but somehow, and all of
+a sudden, she had felt herself too near womanhood to indulge in such
+practices with freedom.  However, she moved forth, and the house-front
+stared her in the face, at this higher level unobscured by fog.
+
+It was a building of the medium size, and unpretending, the façade being
+of stone; and of the Italian elevation made familiar by Inigo Jones and
+his school.  There was a doorway to the lawn, standing at the head of a
+flight of steps.  The shutters of the house were closed, and the blinds
+of the bedrooms drawn down.  Her perception of the fact that no crusty
+caretaker could see her from the windows led her at once to slacken her
+pace, and stroll through the flower-beds coolly.  A house unblinded is a
+possible spy, and must be treated accordingly; a house with the shutters
+together is an insensate heap of stone and mortar, to be faced with
+indifference.
+
+On the other side of the house the greensward rose to an eminence,
+whereon stood one of those curious summer shelters sometimes erected on
+exposed points of view, called an all-the-year-round.  In the present
+case it consisted of four walls radiating from a centre like the arms of
+a turnstile, with seats in each angle, so that whencesoever the wind
+came, it was always possible to find a screened corner from which to
+observe the landscape.
+
+The milkmaid’s trackless course led her up the hill and past this
+erection.  At ease as to being watched and scolded as an intruder, her
+mind flew to other matters; till, at the moment when she was not a yard
+from the shelter, she heard a foot or feet scraping on the gravel behind
+it.  Some one was in the all-the-year-round, apparently occupying the
+seat on the other side; as was proved when, on turning, she saw an elbow,
+a man’s elbow, projecting over the edge.
+
+Now the young woman did not much like the idea of going down the hill
+under the eyes of this person, which she would have to do if she went on,
+for as an intruder she was liable to be called back and questioned upon
+her business there.  Accordingly she crept softly up and sat in the seat
+behind, intending to remain there until her companion should leave.
+
+This he by no means seemed in a hurry to do.  What could possibly have
+brought him there, what could detain him there, at six o’clock on a
+morning of mist when there was nothing to be seen or enjoyed of the vale
+beneath, puzzled her not a little.  But he remained quite still, and
+Margery grew impatient.  She discerned the track of his feet in the dewy
+grass, forming a line from the house steps, which announced that he was
+an inhabitant and not a chance passer-by.  At last she peeped round.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+A fine-framed dark-mustachioed gentleman, in dressing-gown and slippers,
+was sitting there in the damp without a hat on.  With one hand he was
+tightly grasping his forehead, the other hung over his knee.  The
+attitude bespoke with sufficient clearness a mental condition of anguish.
+He was quite a different being from any of the men to whom her eyes were
+accustomed.  She had never seen mustachios before, for they were not worn
+by civilians in Lower Wessex at this date.  His hands and his face were
+white—to her view deadly white—and he heeded nothing outside his own
+existence.  There he remained as motionless as the bushes around him;
+indeed, he scarcely seemed to breathe.
+
+Having imprudently advanced thus far, Margery’s wish was to get back
+again in the same unseen manner; but in moving her foot for the purpose
+it grated on the gravel.  He started up with an air of bewilderment, and
+slipped something into the pocket of his dressing-gown.  She was almost
+certain that it was a pistol.  The pair stood looking blankly at each
+other.
+
+‘My Gott, who are you?’ he asked sternly, and with not altogether an
+English articulation.  ‘What do you do here?’
+
+Margery had already begun to be frightened at her boldness in invading
+the lawn and pleasure-seat.  The house had a master, and she had not
+known of it.  ‘My name is Margaret Tucker, sir,’ she said meekly.  ‘My
+father is Dairyman Tucker.  We live at Silverthorn Dairy-house.’
+
+‘What were you doing here at this hour of the morning?’
+
+She told him, even to the fact that she had climbed over the fence.
+
+‘And what made you peep round at me?’
+
+‘I saw your elbow, sir; and I wondered what you were doing?’
+
+‘And what was I doing?’
+
+‘Nothing.  You had one hand on your forehead and the other on your knee.
+I do hope you are not ill, sir, or in deep trouble?’  Margery had
+sufficient tact to say nothing about the pistol.
+
+‘What difference would it make to you if I were ill or in trouble?  You
+don’t know me.’
+
+She returned no answer, feeling that she might have taken a liberty in
+expressing sympathy.  But, looking furtively up at him, she discerned to
+her surprise that he seemed affected by her humane wish, simply as it had
+been expressed.  She had scarcely conceived that such a tall dark man
+could know what gentle feelings were.
+
+‘Well, I am much obliged to you for caring how I am,’ said he with a
+faint smile and an affected lightness of manner which, even to her, only
+rendered more apparent the gloom beneath.  ‘I have not slept this past
+night.  I suffer from sleeplessness.  Probably you do not.’
+
+Margery laughed a little, and he glanced with interest at the comely
+picture she presented; her fresh face, brown hair, candid eyes,
+unpractised manner, country dress, pink hands, empty wicker-basket, and
+the handkerchief over her bonnet.
+
+‘Well,’ he said, after his scrutiny, ‘I need hardly have asked such a
+question of one who is Nature’s own image . . . Ah, but my good little
+friend,’ he added, recurring to his bitter tone and sitting wearily down,
+‘you don’t know what great clouds can hang over some people’s lives, and
+what cowards some men are in face of them.  To escape themselves they
+travel, take picturesque houses, and engage in country sports.  But here
+it is so dreary, and the fog was horrible this morning!’
+
+‘Why, this is only the pride of the morning!’ said Margery.  ‘By-and-by
+it will be a beautiful day.’
+
+She was going on her way forthwith; but he detained her—detained her with
+words, talking on every innocent little subject he could think of.  He
+had an object in keeping her there more serious than his words would
+imply.  It was as if he feared to be left alone.
+
+While they still stood, the misty figure of the postman, whom Margery had
+left a quarter of an hour earlier to follow his sinuous course, crossed
+the grounds below them on his way to the house.  Signifying to Margery by
+a wave of his hand that she was to step back out of sight, in the hinder
+angle of the shelter, the gentleman beckoned to the postman to bring the
+bag to where he stood.  The man did so, and again resumed his journey.
+
+The stranger unlocked the bag and threw it on the seat, having taken one
+letter from within.  This he read attentively, and his countenance
+changed.
+
+The change was almost phantasmagorial, as if the sun had burst through
+the fog upon that face: it became clear, bright, almost radiant.  Yet it
+was but a change that may take place in the commonest human being,
+provided his countenance be not too wooden, or his artifice have not
+grown to second nature.  He turned to Margery, who was again edging off,
+and, seizing her hand, appeared as though he were about to embrace her.
+Checking his impulse, he said, ‘My guardian child—my good friend—you have
+saved me!’
+
+‘What from?’ she ventured to ask.
+
+‘That you may never know.’
+
+She thought of the weapon, and guessed that the letter he had just
+received had effected this change in his mood, but made no observation
+till he went on to say, ‘What did you tell me was your name, dear girl?’
+
+She repeated her name.
+
+‘Margaret Tucker.’  He stooped, and pressed her hand.  ‘Sit down for a
+moment—one moment,’ he said, pointing to the end of the seat, and taking
+the extremest further end for himself, not to discompose her.  She sat
+down.
+
+‘It is to ask a question,’ he went on, ‘and there must be confidence
+between us.  You have saved me from an act of madness!  What can I do for
+you?’
+
+‘Nothing, sir.’
+
+‘Nothing?’
+
+‘Father is very well off, and we don’t want anything.’
+
+‘But there must be some service I can render, some kindness, some votive
+offering which I could make, and so imprint on your memory as long as you
+live that I am not an ungrateful man?’
+
+‘Why should you be grateful to me, sir?’
+
+He shook his head.  ‘Some things are best left unspoken.  Now think.
+What would you like to have best in the world?’
+
+Margery made a pretence of reflecting—then fell to reflecting seriously;
+but the negative was ultimately as undisturbed as ever: she could not
+decide on anything she would like best in the world; it was too
+difficult, too sudden.
+
+‘Very well—don’t hurry yourself.  Think it over all day.  I ride this
+afternoon.  You live—where?’
+
+‘Silverthorn Dairy-house.’
+
+‘I will ride that way homeward this evening.  Do you consider by eight
+o’clock what little article, what little treat, you would most like of
+any.’
+
+‘I will, sir,’ said Margery, now warming up to the idea.  ‘Where shall I
+meet you?  Or will you call at the house, sir?’
+
+‘Ah—no.  I should not wish the circumstances known out of which our
+acquaintance rose.  It would be more proper—but no.’
+
+Margery, too, seemed rather anxious that he should not call.  ‘I could
+come out, sir,’ she said.  ‘My father is odd-tempered, and perhaps—’
+
+It was agreed that she should look over a stile at the top of her
+father’s garden, and that he should ride along a bridle-path outside, to
+receive her answer.  ‘Margery,’ said the gentleman in conclusion, ‘now
+that you have discovered me under ghastly conditions, are you going to
+reveal them, and make me an object for the gossip of the curious?’
+
+‘No, no, sir!’ she replied earnestly.  ‘Why should I do that?’
+
+‘You will never tell?’
+
+‘Never, never will I tell what has happened here this morning.’
+
+‘Neither to your father, nor to your friends, nor to any one?’
+
+‘To no one at all,’ she said.
+
+‘It is sufficient,’ he answered.  ‘You mean what you say, my dear maiden.
+Now you want to leave me.  Good-bye!’
+
+She descended the hill, walking with some awkwardness; for she felt the
+stranger’s eyes were upon her till the fog had enveloped her from his
+gaze.  She took no notice now of the dripping from the trees; she was
+lost in thought on other things.  Had she saved this handsome,
+melancholy, sleepless, foreign gentleman who had had a trouble on his
+mind till the letter came?  What had he been going to do?  Margery could
+guess that he had meditated death at his own hand.  Strange as the
+incident had been in itself; to her it had seemed stranger even than it
+was.  Contrasting colours heighten each other by being juxtaposed; it is
+the same with contrasting lives.
+
+Reaching the opposite side of the park there appeared before her for the
+third time that little old man, the foot-post.  As the turnpike-road ran,
+the postman’s beat was twelve miles a day; six miles out from the town,
+and six miles back at night.  But what with zigzags, devious ways,
+offsets to country seats, curves to farms, looped courses, and triangles
+to outlying hamlets, the ground actually covered by him was nearer
+one-and-twenty miles.  Hence it was that Margery, who had come straight,
+was still abreast of him, despite her long pause.
+
+The weighty sense that she was mixed up in a tragical secret with an
+unknown and handsome stranger prevented her joining very readily in chat
+with the postman for some time.  But a keen interest in her adventure
+caused her to respond at once when the bowed man of mails said, ‘You hit
+athwart the grounds of Mount Lodge, Miss Margery, or you wouldn’t ha’ met
+me here.  Well, somebody hey took the old place at last.’
+
+In acknowledging her route Margery brought herself to ask who the new
+gentleman might be.
+
+‘Guide the girl’s heart!  What! don’t she know?  And yet how should
+ye—he’s only just a-come.—Well, nominal, he’s a fishing gentleman, come
+for the summer only.  But, more to the subject, he’s a foreign noble
+that’s lived in England so long as to be without any true country: some
+of his letters call him Baron, some Squire, so that ’a must be born to
+something that can’t be earned by elbow-grease and Christian conduct.  He
+was out this morning a-watching the fog.  “Postman,” ’a said,
+“good-morning: give me the bag.”  O, yes, ’a’s a civil genteel nobleman
+enough.’
+
+‘Took the house for fishing, did he?’
+
+‘That’s what they say, and as it can be for nothing else I suppose it’s
+true.  But, in final, his health’s not good, ’a b’lieve; he’s been living
+too rithe.  The London smoke got into his wyndpipe, till ’a couldn’t eat.
+However, I shouldn’t mind having the run of his kitchen.’
+
+‘And what is his name?’
+
+‘Ah—there you have me!  ’Tis a name no man’s tongue can tell, or even
+woman’s, except by pen-and-ink and good scholarship.  It begins with X,
+and who, without the machinery of a clock in’s inside, can speak that?
+But here ’tis—from his letters.’  The postman with his walking-stick
+wrote upon the ground,
+
+                            ‘BARON VON XANTEN’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The day, as she had prognosticated, turned out fine; for weather-wisdom
+was imbibed with their milk-sops by the children of the Exe Vale.  The
+impending meeting excited Margery, and she performed her duties in her
+father’s house with mechanical unconsciousness.
+
+Milking, skimming, cheesemaking were done.  Her father was asleep in the
+settle, the milkmen and maids were gone home to their cottages, and the
+clock showed a quarter to eight.  She dressed herself with care, went to
+the top of the garden, and looked over the stile.  The view was eastward,
+and a great moon hung before her in a sky which had not a cloud.  Nothing
+was moving except on the minutest scale, and she remained leaning over,
+the night-hawk sounding his croud from the bough of an isolated tree on
+the open hill side.
+
+Here Margery waited till the appointed time had passed by three-quarters
+of an hour; but no Baron came.  She had been full of an idea, and her
+heart sank with disappointment.  Then at last the pacing of a horse
+became audible on the soft path without, leading up from the water-meads,
+simultaneously with which she beheld the form of the stranger, riding
+home, as he had said.
+
+The moonlight so flooded her face as to make her very conspicuous in the
+garden-gap.  ‘Ah my maiden—what is your name—Margery!’ he said.  ‘How
+came you here?  But of course I remember—we were to meet.  And it was to
+be at eight—_proh pudor_!—I have kept you waiting!’
+
+‘It doesn’t matter, sir.  I’ve thought of something.’
+
+‘Thought of something?’
+
+‘Yes, sir.  You said this morning that I was to think what I would like
+best in the world, and I have made up my mind.’
+
+‘I did say so—to be sure I did,’ he replied, collecting his thoughts.  ‘I
+remember to have had good reason for gratitude to you.’  He placed his
+hand to his brow, and in a minute alighted, and came up to her with the
+bridle in his hand.  ‘I was to give you a treat or present, and you could
+not think of one.  Now you have done so.  Let me hear what it is, and
+I’ll be as good as my word.’
+
+‘To go to the Yeomanry Ball that’s to be given this month.’
+
+‘The Yeomanry Ball—Yeomanry Ball?’ he murmured, as if, of all requests in
+the world, this was what he had least expected.  ‘Where is what you call
+the Yeomanry Ball?’
+
+‘At Exonbury.’
+
+‘Have you ever been to it before?’
+
+‘No, sir.’
+
+‘Or to any ball?’
+
+‘No.’
+
+‘But did I not say a gift—a present?’
+
+‘Or a treat?’
+
+‘Ah, yes, or a treat,’ he echoed, with the air of one who finds himself
+in a slight fix.  ‘But with whom would you propose to go?’
+
+‘I don’t know.  I have not thought of that yet.’
+
+‘You have no friend who could take you, even if I got you an invitation?’
+
+Margery looked at the moon.  ‘No one who can dance,’ she said; adding,
+with hesitation, ‘I was thinking that perhaps—’
+
+‘But, my dear Margery,’ he said, stopping her, as if he half-divined what
+her simple dream of a cavalier had been; ‘it is very odd that you can
+think of nothing else than going to a Yeomanry Ball.  Think again.  You
+are sure there is nothing else?’
+
+‘Quite sure, sir,’ she decisively answered.  At first nobody would have
+noticed in that pretty young face any sign of decision; yet it was
+discoverable.  The mouth, though soft, was firm in line; the eyebrows
+were distinct, and extended near to each other.  ‘I have thought of it
+all day,’ she continued, sadly.  ‘Still, sir, if you are sorry you
+offered me anything, I can let you off.’
+
+‘Sorry?—Certainly not, Margery,’ be said, rather nettled.  ‘I’ll show you
+that whatever hopes I have raised in your breast I am honourable enough
+to gratify.  If it lies in my power,’ he added with sudden firmness, ‘you
+_shall_ go to the Yeomanry Ball.  In what building is it to be held?’
+
+‘In the Assembly Rooms.’
+
+‘And would you be likely to be recognized there?  Do you know many
+people?’
+
+‘Not many, sir.  None, I may say.  I know nobody who goes to balls.’
+
+‘Ah, well; you must go, since you wish it; and if there is no other way
+of getting over the difficulty of having nobody to take you, I’ll take
+you myself.  Would you like me to do so?  I can dance.’
+
+‘O, yes, sir; I know that, and I thought you might offer to do it.  But
+would you bring me back again?’
+
+‘Of course I’ll bring you back.  But, by-the-bye, can _you_ dance?’
+
+‘Yes.’
+
+‘What?’
+
+‘Reels, and jigs, and country-dances like the New-Rigged-Ship, and
+Follow-my-Lover, and Haste-to-the-Wedding, and the College Hornpipe, and
+the Favourite Quickstep, and Captain White’s dance.’
+
+‘A very good list—a very good! but unluckily I fear they don’t dance any
+of those now.  But if you have the instinct we may soon cure your
+ignorance.  Let me see you dance a moment.’
+
+She stood out into the garden-path, the stile being still between them,
+and seizing a side of her skirt with each hand, performed the movements
+which are even yet far from uncommon in the dances of the villagers of
+merry England.  But her motions, though graceful, were not precisely
+those which appear in the figures of a modern ball-room.
+
+‘Well, my good friend, it is a very pretty sight,’ he said, warming up to
+the proceedings.  ‘But you dance too well—you dance all over your
+person—and that’s too thorough a way for the present day.  I should say
+it was exactly how they danced in the time of your poet Chaucer; but as
+people don’t dance like it now, we must consider.  First I must inquire
+more about this ball, and then I must see you again.’
+
+‘If it is a great trouble to you, sir, I—’
+
+‘O no, no.  I will think it over.  So far so good.’
+
+The Baron mentioned an evening and an hour when he would be passing that
+way again; then mounted his horse and rode away.
+
+On the next occasion, which was just when the sun was changing places
+with the moon as an illuminator of Silverthorn Dairy, she found him at
+the spot before her, and unencumbered by a horse.  The melancholy that
+had so weighed him down at their first interview, and had been
+perceptible at their second, had quite disappeared.  He pressed her right
+hand between both his own across the stile.
+
+‘My good maiden, Gott bless you!’ said he warmly.  ‘I cannot help
+thinking of that morning!  I was too much over-shadowed at first to take
+in the whole force of it.  You do not know all; but your presence was a
+miraculous intervention.  Now to more cheerful matters.   I have a great
+deal to tell—that is, if your wish about the ball be still the same?’
+
+‘O yes, sir—if you don’t object.’
+
+‘Never think of my objecting.  What I have found out is something which
+simplifies matters amazingly.  In addition to your Yeomanry Ball at
+Exonbury, there is also to be one in the next county about the same time.
+This ball is not to be held at the Town Hall of the county-town as usual,
+but at Lord Toneborough’s, who is colonel of the regiment, and who, I
+suppose, wishes to please the yeomen because his brother is going to
+stand for the county.  Now I find I could take you there very well, and
+the great advantage of that ball over the Yeomanry Ball in this county
+is, that there you would be absolutely unknown, and I also.  But do you
+prefer your own neighbourhood?’
+
+‘O no, sir.  It is a ball I long to see—I don’t know what it is like; it
+does not matter where.’
+
+‘Good.  Then I shall be able to make much more of you there, where there
+is no possibility of recognition.  That being settled, the next thing is
+the dancing.  Now reels and such things do not do.  For think of
+this—there is a new dance at Almack’s and everywhere else, over which the
+world has gone crazy.’
+
+‘How dreadful!’
+
+‘Ah—but that is a mere expression—gone mad.  It is really an ancient
+Scythian dance; but, such is the power of fashion, that, having once been
+adopted by Society, this dance has made the tour of the Continent in one
+season.’
+
+‘What is its name, sir?’
+
+‘The polka.  Young people, who always dance, are ecstatic about it, and
+old people, who have not danced for years, have begun to dance again, on
+its account.  All share the excitement.  It arrived in London only some
+few months ago—it is now all over the country.  Now this is your
+opportunity, my good Margery.  To learn this one dance will be enough.
+They will dance scarce anything else at that ball.  While, to crown all,
+it is the easiest dance in the world, and as I know it quite well I can
+practise you in the step.  Suppose we try?’
+
+Margery showed some hesitation before crossing the stile: it was a
+Rubicon in more ways than one.  But the curious reverence which was
+stealing over her for all that this stranger said and did was too much
+for prudence.  She crossed the stile.
+
+Withdrawing with her to a nook where two high hedges met, and where the
+grass was elastic and dry, he lightly rested his arm on her waist, and
+practised with her the new step of fascination.  Instead of music he
+whispered numbers, and she, as may be supposed, showed no slight aptness
+in following his instructions.  Thus they moved round together, the
+moon-shadows from the twigs racing over their forms as they turned.
+
+The interview lasted about half an hour.  Then he somewhat abruptly
+handed her over the stile and stood looking at her from the other side.
+
+‘Well,’ he murmured, ‘what has come to pass is strange!  My whole
+business after this will be to recover my right mind!’
+
+Margery always declared that there seemed to be some power in the
+stranger that was more than human, something magical and compulsory, when
+he seized her and gently trotted her round.  But lingering emotions may
+have led her memory to play pranks with the scene, and her vivid
+imagination at that youthful age must be taken into account in believing
+her.  However, there is no doubt that the stranger, whoever he might be,
+and whatever his powers, taught her the elements of modern dancing at a
+certain interview by moonlight at the top of her father’s garden, as was
+proved by her possession of knowledge on the subject that could have been
+acquired in no other way.
+
+His was of the first rank of commanding figures, she was one of the most
+agile of milkmaids, and to casual view it would have seemed all of a
+piece with Nature’s doings that things should go on thus.  But there was
+another side to the case; and whether the strange gentleman were a wild
+olive tree, or not, it was questionable if the acquaintance would lead to
+happiness.  ‘A fleeting romance and a possible calamity;’ thus it might
+have been summed up by the practical.
+
+Margery was in Paradise; and yet she was not at this date distinctly in
+love with the stranger.  What she felt was something more mysterious,
+more of the nature of veneration.  As he looked at her across the stile
+she spoke timidly, on a subject which had apparently occupied her long.
+
+‘I ought to have a ball-dress, ought I not, sir?’
+
+‘Certainly.  And you shall have a ball-dress.’
+
+‘Really?’
+
+‘No doubt of it.  I won’t do things by halves for my best friend.  I have
+thought of the ball-dress, and of other things also.’
+
+‘And is my dancing good enough?’
+
+‘Quite—quite.’  He paused, lapsed into thought, and looked at her.
+‘Margery,’ he said, ‘do you trust yourself unreservedly to me?’
+
+‘O yes, sir,’ she replied brightly; ‘if I am not too much trouble: if I
+am good enough to be seen in your society.’
+
+The Baron laughed in a peculiar way.  ‘Really, I think you may assume as
+much as that.—However, to business.  The ball is on the twenty-fifth,
+that is next Thursday week; and the only difficulty about the dress is
+the size.  Suppose you lend me this?’  And he touched her on the shoulder
+to signify a tight little jacket she wore.
+
+Margery was all obedience.  She took it off and handed it to him.  The
+Baron rolled and compressed it with all his force till it was about as
+large as an apple-dumpling, and put it into his pocket.
+
+‘The next thing,’ he said, ‘is about getting the consent of your friends
+to your going.  Have you thought of this?’
+
+‘There is only my father.  I can tell him I am invited to a party, and I
+don’t think he’ll mind.  Though I would rather not tell him.’
+
+‘But it strikes me that you must inform him something of what you intend.
+I would strongly advise you to do so.’  He spoke as if rather perplexed
+as to the probable custom of the English peasantry in such matters, and
+added, ‘However, it is for you to decide.  I know nothing of the
+circumstances.  As to getting to the ball, the plan I have arranged is
+this.  The direction to Lord Toneborough’s being the other way from my
+house, you must meet me at Three-Walks-End—in Chillington Wood, two miles
+or more from here.  You know the place?  Good.  By meeting there we shall
+save five or six miles of journey—a consideration, as it is a long way.
+Now, for the last time: are you still firm in your wish for this
+particular treat and no other?  It is not too late to give it up.  Cannot
+you think of something else—something better—some useful household
+articles you require?’
+
+Margery’s countenance, which before had been beaming with expectation,
+lost its brightness: her lips became close, and her voice broken.  ‘You
+have offered to take me, and now—’
+
+‘No, no, no,’ he said, patting her cheek.  ‘We will not think of anything
+else.  You shall go.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+But whether the Baron, in naming such a distant spot for the rendezvous,
+was in hope she might fail him, and so relieve him after all of his
+undertaking, cannot be said; though it might have been strongly suspected
+from his manner that he had no great zest for the responsibility of
+escorting her.
+
+But he little knew the firmness of the young woman he had to deal with.
+She was one of those soft natures whose power of adhesiveness to an
+acquired idea seems to be one of the special attributes of that softness.
+To go to a ball with this mysterious personage of romance was her ardent
+desire and aim; and none the less in that she trembled with fear and
+excitement at her position in so aiming.  She felt the deepest awe,
+tenderness, and humility towards the Baron of the strange name; and yet
+she was prepared to stick to her point.
+
+Thus it was that the afternoon of the eventful day found Margery trudging
+her way up the slopes from the vale to the place of appointment.  She
+walked to the music of innumerable birds, which increased as she drew
+away from the open meads towards the groves.
+
+She had overcome all difficulties.  After thinking out the question of
+telling or not telling her father, she had decided that to tell him was
+to be forbidden to go.  Her contrivance therefore was this: to leave home
+this evening on a visit to her invalid grandmother, who lived not far
+from the Baron’s house; but not to arrive at her grandmother’s till
+breakfast-time next morning.  Who would suspect an intercalated
+experience of twelve hours with the Baron at a ball?  That this piece of
+deception was indefensible she afterwards owned readily enough; but she
+did not stop to think of it then.
+
+It was sunset within Chillington Wood by the time she reached
+Three-Walks-End—the converging point of radiating trackways, now floored
+with a carpet of matted grass, which had never known other scythes than
+the teeth of rabbits and hares.  The twitter overhead had ceased, except
+from a few braver and larger birds, including the cuckoo, who did not
+fear night at this pleasant time of year.  Nobody seemed to be on the
+spot when she first drew near, but no sooner did Margery stand at the
+intersection of the roads than a slight crashing became audible, and her
+patron appeared.  He was so transfigured in dress that she scarcely knew
+him.  Under a light great-coat, which was flung open, instead of his
+ordinary clothes he wore a suit of thin black cloth, an open waistcoat
+with a frill all down his shirt-front, a white tie, shining boots, no
+thicker than a glove, a coat that made him look like a bird, and a hat
+that seemed as if it would open and shut like an accordion.
+
+‘I am dressed for the ball—nothing worse,’ he said, drily smiling.  ‘So
+will you be soon.’
+
+‘Why did you choose this place for our meeting, sir?’ she asked, looking
+around and acquiring confidence.
+
+‘Why did I choose it?  Well, because in riding past one day I observed a
+large hollow tree close by here, and it occurred to me when I was last
+with you that this would be useful for our purpose.  Have you told your
+father?’
+
+‘I have not yet told him, sir.’
+
+‘That’s very bad of you, Margery.  How have you arranged it, then?’
+
+She briefly related her plan, on which he made no comment, but, taking
+her by the hand as if she were a little child, he led her through the
+undergrowth to a spot where the trees were older, and standing at wider
+distances.  Among them was the tree he had spoken of—an elm; huge,
+hollow, distorted, and headless, with a rift in its side.
+
+‘Now go inside,’ he said, ‘before it gets any darker.  You will find
+there everything you want.  At any rate, if you do not you must do
+without it.  I’ll keep watch; and don’t be longer than you can help to
+be.’
+
+‘What am I to do, sir?’ asked the puzzled maiden.
+
+‘Go inside, and you will see.  When you are ready wave your handkerchief
+at that hole.’
+
+She stooped into the opening.  The cavity within the tree formed a lofty
+circular apartment, four or five feet in diameter, to which daylight
+entered at the top, and also through a round hole about six feet from the
+ground, marking the spot at which a limb had been amputated in the tree’s
+prime.  The decayed wood of cinnamon-brown, forming the inner surface of
+the tree, and the warm evening glow, reflected in at the top, suffused
+the cavity with a faint mellow radiance.
+
+But Margery had hardly given herself time to heed these things.  Her eye
+had been caught by objects of quite another quality.  A large white
+oblong paper box lay against the inside of the tree; over it, on a
+splinter, hung a small oval looking-glass.
+
+Margery seized the idea in a moment.  She pressed through the rift into
+the tree, lifted the cover of the box, and, behold, there was disclosed
+within a lovely white apparition in a somewhat flattened state.  It was
+the ball-dress.
+
+This marvel of art was, briefly, a sort of heavenly cobweb.  It was a
+gossamer texture of precious manufacture, artistically festooned in a
+dozen flounces or more.
+
+Margery lifted it, and could hardly refrain from kissing it.  Had any one
+told her before this moment that such a dress could exist, she would have
+said, ‘No; it’s impossible!’  She drew back, went forward, flushed,
+laughed, raised her hands.  To say that the maker of that dress had been
+an individual of talent was simply understatement: he was a genius, and
+she sunned herself in the rays of his creation.
+
+She then remembered that her friend without had told her to make haste,
+and she spasmodically proceeded to array herself.  In removing the dress
+she found satin slippers, gloves, a handkerchief nearly all lace, a fan,
+and even flowers for the hair.  ‘O, how could he think of it!’ she said,
+clasping her hands and almost crying with agitation.  ‘And the glass—how
+good of him!’
+
+Everything was so well prepared, that to clothe herself in these garments
+was a matter of ease.  In a quarter of an hour she was ready, even to
+shoes and gloves.  But what led her more than anything else into
+admiration of the Baron’s foresight was the discovery that there were
+half-a-dozen pairs each of shoes and gloves, of varying sizes, out of
+which she selected a fit.
+
+Margery glanced at herself in the mirror, or at as much as she could see
+of herself: the image presented was superb.  Then she hastily rolled up
+her old dress, put it in the box, and thrust the latter on a ledge as
+high as she could reach.  Standing on tiptoe, she waved the handkerchief
+through the upper aperture, and bent to the rift to go out.
+
+But what a trouble stared her in the face.  The dress was so airy, so
+fantastical, and so extensive, that to get out in her new clothes by the
+rift which had admitted her in her old ones was an impossibility.  She
+heard the Baron’s steps crackling over the dead sticks and leaves.
+
+‘O, sir!’ she began in despair.
+
+‘What—can’t you dress yourself?’ he inquired from the back of the trunk.
+
+‘Yes; but I can’t get out of this dreadful tree!’
+
+He came round to the opening, stooped, and looked in.  ‘It is obvious
+that you cannot,’ he said, taking in her compass at a glance; and adding
+to himself; ‘Charming! who would have thought that clothes could do so
+much!—Wait a minute, my little maid: I have it!’ he said more loudly.
+
+With all his might he kicked at the sides of the rift, and by that means
+broke away several pieces of the rotten touchwood.  But, being thinly
+armed about the feet, he abandoned that process, and went for a fallen
+branch which lay near.  By using the large end as a lever, he tore away
+pieces of the wooden shell which enshrouded Margery and all her
+loveliness, till the aperture was large enough for her to pass without
+tearing her dress.  She breathed her relief: the silly girl had begun to
+fear that she would not get to the ball after all.
+
+He carefully wrapped round her a cloak he had brought with him: it was
+hooded, and of a length which covered her to the heels.
+
+‘The carriage is waiting down the other path,’ he said, and gave her his
+arm.  A short trudge over the soft dry leaves brought them to the place
+indicated.
+
+There stood the brougham, the horses, the coachman, all as still as if
+they were growing on the spot, like the trees.  Margery’s eyes rose with
+some timidity to the coachman’s figure.
+
+‘You need not mind him,’ said the Baron.  ‘He is a foreigner, and heeds
+nothing.’
+
+In the space of a short minute she was handed inside; the Baron buttoned
+up his overcoat, and surprised her by mounting with the coachman.  The
+carriage moved off silently over the long grass of the vista, the shadows
+deepening to black as they proceeded.  Darker and darker grew the night
+as they rolled on; the neighbourhood familiar to Margery was soon left
+behind, and she had not the remotest idea of the direction they were
+taking.  The stars blinked out, the coachman lit his lamps, and they
+bowled on again.
+
+In the course of an hour and a half they arrived at a small town, where
+they pulled up at the chief inn, and changed horses; all being done so
+readily that their advent had plainly been expected.  The journey was
+resumed immediately.  Her companion never descended to speak to her;
+whenever she looked out there he sat upright on his perch, with the mien
+of a person who had a difficult duty to perform, and who meant to perform
+it properly at all costs.  But Margery could not help feeling a certain
+dread at her situation—almost, indeed, a wish that she had not come.
+Once or twice she thought, ‘Suppose he is a wicked man, who is taking me
+off to a foreign country, and will never bring me home again.’
+
+But her characteristic persistence in an original idea sustained her
+against these misgivings except at odd moments.  One incident in
+particular had given her confidence in her escort: she had seen a tear in
+his eye when she expressed her sorrow for his troubles.  He may have
+divined that her thoughts would take an uneasy turn, for when they
+stopped for a moment in ascending a hill he came to the window.  ‘Are you
+tired, Margery?’ he asked kindly.
+
+‘No, sir.’
+
+‘Are you afraid?’
+
+‘N—no, sir.  But it is a long way.’
+
+‘We are almost there,’ he answered.  ‘And now, Margery,’ he said in a
+lower tone, ‘I must tell you a secret.  I have obtained this invitation
+in a peculiar way.  I thought it best for your sake not to come in my own
+name, and this is how I have managed.  A man in this county, for whom I
+have lately done a service, one whom I can trust, and who is personally
+as unknown here as you and I, has (privately) transferred his card of
+invitation to me.  So that we go under his name.  I explain this that you
+may not say anything imprudent by accident.  Keep your ears open and be
+cautious.’  Having said this the Baron retreated again to his place.
+
+‘Then he is a wicked man after all!’ she said to herself; ‘for he is
+going under a false name.’  But she soon had the temerity not to mind it:
+wickedness of that sort was the one ingredient required just now to
+finish him off as a hero in her eyes.
+
+They descended a hill, passed a lodge, then up an avenue; and presently
+there beamed upon them the light from other carriages, drawn up in a
+file, which moved on by degrees; and at last they halted before a large
+arched doorway, round which a group of people stood.
+
+‘We are among the latest arrivals, on account of the distance,’ said the
+Baron, reappearing.  ‘But never mind; there are three hours at least for
+your enjoyment.’
+
+The steps were promptly flung down, and they alighted.  The steam from
+the flanks of their swarthy steeds, as they seemed to her, ascended to
+the parapet of the porch, and from their nostrils the hot breath jetted
+forth like smoke out of volcanoes, attracting the attention of all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The bewildered Margery was led by the Baron up the steps to the interior
+of the house, whence the sounds of music and dancing were already
+proceeding.  The tones were strange.  At every fourth beat a deep and
+mighty note throbbed through the air, reaching Margery’s soul with all
+the force of a blow.
+
+‘What is that powerful tune, sir—I have never heard anything like it?’
+she said.
+
+‘The Drum Polka,’ answered the Baron.  ‘The strange dance I spoke of and
+that we practised—introduced from my country and other parts of the
+continent.’
+
+Her surprise was not lessened when, at the entrance to the ballroom, she
+heard the names of her conductor and herself announced as ‘Mr. and Miss
+Brown.’
+
+However, nobody seemed to take any notice of the announcement, the room
+beyond being in a perfect turmoil of gaiety, and Margery’s consternation
+at sailing under false colours subsided.  At the same moment she observed
+awaiting them a handsome, dark-haired, rather _petite_ lady in
+cream-coloured satin.  ‘Who is she?’ asked Margery of the Baron.
+
+‘She is the lady of the mansion,’ he whispered.  ‘She is the wife of a
+peer of the realm, the daughter of a marquis, has five Christian names;
+and hardly ever speaks to commoners, except for political purposes.’
+
+‘How divine—what joy to be here!’ murmured Margery, as she contemplated
+the diamonds that flashed from the head of her ladyship, who was just
+inside the ball-room door, in front of a little gilded chair, upon which
+she sat in the intervals between one arrival and another.  She had come
+down from London at great inconvenience to herself; openly to promote
+this entertainment.
+
+As Mr. and Miss Brown expressed absolutely no meaning to Lady Toneborough
+(for there were three Browns already present in this rather mixed
+assembly), and as there was possibly a slight awkwardness in poor
+Margery’s manner, Lady Toneborough touched their hands lightly with the
+tips of her long gloves, said, ‘How d’ye do,’ and turned round for more
+comers.
+
+‘Ah, if she only knew we were a rich Baron and his friend, and not Mr.
+and Miss Brown at all, she wouldn’t receive us like that, would she?’
+whispered Margery confidentially.
+
+‘Indeed, she wouldn’t!’ drily said the Baron.  ‘Now let us drop into the
+dance at once; some of the people here, you see, dance much worse than
+you.’
+
+Almost before she was aware she had obeyed his mysterious influence, by
+giving him one hand, placing the other upon his shoulder, and swinging
+with him round the room to the steps she had learnt on the sward.
+
+At the first gaze the apartment had seemed to her to be floored with
+black ice; the figures of the dancers appearing upon it upside down.  At
+last she realized that it was highly-polished oak, but she was none the
+less afraid to move.
+
+‘I am afraid of falling down,’ she said.
+
+‘Lean on me; you will soon get used to it,’ he replied.  ‘You have no
+nails in your shoes now, dear.’
+
+His words, like all his words to her, were quite true.  She found it
+amazingly easy in a brief space of time.  The floor, far from hindering
+her, was a positive assistance to one of her natural agility and
+litheness.  Moreover, her marvellous dress of twelve flounces inspired
+her as nothing else could have done.  Externally a new creature, she was
+prompted to new deeds.  To feel as well-dressed as the other women around
+her is to set any woman at her ease, whencesoever she may have come: to
+feel much better dressed is to add radiance to that ease.
+
+Her prophet’s statement on the popularity of the polka at this juncture
+was amply borne out.  It was among the first seasons of its general
+adoption in country houses; the enthusiasm it excited to-night was beyond
+description, and scarcely credible to the youth of the present day.  A
+new motive power had been introduced into the world of poesy—the polka,
+as a counterpoise to the new motive power that had been introduced into
+the world of prose—steam.
+
+Twenty finished musicians sat in the music gallery at the end, with
+romantic mop-heads of raven hair, under which their faces and eyes shone
+like fire under coals.
+
+The nature and object of the ball had led to its being very inclusive.
+Every rank was there, from the peer to the smallest yeoman, and Margery
+got on exceedingly well, particularly when the recuperative powers of
+supper had banished the fatigue of her long drive.
+
+Sometimes she heard people saying, ‘Who are they?—brother and
+sister—father and daughter?  And never dancing except with each other—how
+odd?’  But of this she took no notice.
+
+When not dancing the watchful Baron took her through the drawing-rooms
+and picture-galleries adjoining, which to-night were thrown open like the
+rest of the house; and there, ensconcing her in some curtained nook, he
+drew her attention to scrap-books, prints, and albums, and left her to
+amuse herself with turning them over till the dance in which she was
+practised should again be called.  Margery would much have preferred to
+roam about during these intervals; but the words of the Baron were law,
+and as he commanded so she acted.  In such alternations the evening
+winged away; till at last came the gloomy words, ‘Margery, our time is
+up.’
+
+‘One more—only one!’ she coaxed, for the longer they stayed the more
+freely and gaily moved the dance.  This entreaty he granted; but on her
+asking for yet another, he was inexorable.  ‘No,’ he said.  ‘We have a
+long way to go.’
+
+Then she bade adieu to the wondrous scene, looking over her shoulder as
+they withdrew from the hall; and in a few minutes she was cloaked and in
+the carriage.  The Baron mounted to his seat on the box, where she saw
+him light a cigar; they plunged under the trees, and she leant back, and
+gave herself up to contemplate the images that filled her brain.  The
+natural result followed: she fell asleep.
+
+She did not awake till they stopped to change horses; when she saw
+against the stars the Baron sitting as erect as ever.  ‘He watches like
+the Angel Gabriel, when all the world is asleep!’ she thought.
+
+With the resumption of motion she slept again, and knew no more till he
+touched her hand and said, ‘Our journey is done—we are in Chillington
+Wood.’
+
+It was almost daylight.  Margery scarcely knew herself to be awake till
+she was out of the carriage and standing beside the Baron, who, having
+told the coachman to drive on to a certain point indicated, turned to
+her.
+
+‘Now,’ he said, smiling, ‘run across to the hollow tree; you know where
+it is.  I’ll wait as before, while you perform the reverse operation to
+that you did last night.’  She took no heed of the path now, nor regarded
+whether her pretty slippers became scratched by the brambles or no.  A
+walk of a few steps brought her to the particular tree which she had left
+about nine hours earlier.  It was still gloomy at this spot, the morning
+not being clear.
+
+She entered the trunk, dislodged the box containing her old clothing,
+pulled off the satin shoes, and gloves, dress, and in ten minutes emerged
+in the cotton and shawl of shepherd’s plaid.
+
+Baron was not far off.  ‘Now you look the milkmaid again,’ he said,
+coming towards her.  ‘Where is the finery?’
+
+‘Packed in the box, sir, as I found it.’  She spoke with more humility
+now.  The difference between them was greater than it had been at the
+ball.
+
+‘Good,’ he said.  ‘I must just dispose of it; and then away we go.’
+
+He went back to the tree, Margery following at a little distance.
+Bringing forth the box, he pulled out the dress as carelessly as if it
+had been rags.  But this was not all.  He gathered a few dry sticks,
+crushed the lovely garment into a loose billowy heap, threw the gloves,
+fan, and shoes on the top, then struck a light and ruthlessly set fire to
+the whole.
+
+Margery was agonized.  She ran forward; she implored and entreated.
+‘Please, sir—do spare it—do!  My lovely dress—my-dear, dear slippers—my
+fan—it is cruel!  Don’t burn them, please!’
+
+‘Nonsense.  We shall have no further use for them if we live a hundred
+years.’
+
+‘But spare a bit of it—one little piece, sir—a scrap of the lace—one bow
+of the ribbon—the lovely fan—just something!’
+
+But he was as immoveable as Rhadamanthus.  ‘No,’ he said, with a stern
+gaze of his aristocratic eye.  ‘It is of no use for you to speak like
+that.  The things are my property.  I undertook to gratify you in what
+you might desire because you had saved my life.  To go to a ball, you
+said.  You might much more wisely have said anything else, but no; you
+said, to go to a ball.  Very well—I have taken you to a ball.  I have
+brought you back.  The clothes were only the means, and I dispose of them
+my own way.  Have I not a right to?’
+
+‘Yes, sir,’ she said meekly.
+
+He gave the fire a stir, and lace and ribbons, and the twelve flounces,
+and the embroidery, and all the rest crackled and disappeared.  He then
+put in her hands the butter basket she had brought to take on to her
+grandmother’s, and accompanied her to the edge of the wood, where it
+merged in the undulating open country in which her granddame dwelt.
+
+‘Now, Margery,’ he said, ‘here we part.  I have performed my contract—at
+some awkwardness, if I was recognized.  But never mind that.  How do you
+feel—sleepy?’
+
+‘Not at all, sir,’ she said.
+
+‘That long nap refreshed you, eh?  Now you must make me a promise.  That
+if I require your presence at any time, you will come to me . . . I am a
+man of more than one mood,’ he went on with sudden solemnity; ‘and I may
+have desperate need of you again, to deliver me from that darkness as of
+Death which sometimes encompasses me.  Promise it, Margery—promise it;
+that, no matter what stands in the way, you will come to me if I require
+you.’
+
+‘I would have if you had not burnt my pretty clothes!’ she pouted.
+
+‘Ah—ungrateful!’
+
+‘Indeed, then, I will promise, sir,’ she said from her heart.  ‘Wherever
+I am, if I have bodily strength I will come to you.’
+
+He pressed her hand.  ‘It is a solemn promise,’ he replied.  ‘Now I must
+go, for you know your way.’
+
+‘I shall hardly believe that it has not been all a dream!’ she said, with
+a childish instinct to cry at his withdrawal.  ‘There will be nothing
+left of last night—nothing of my dress, nothing of my pleasure, nothing
+of the place!’
+
+‘You shall remember it in this way,’ said he.  ‘We’ll cut our initials on
+this tree as a memorial, so that whenever you walk this path you will see
+them.’
+
+Then with a knife he inscribed on the smooth bark of a beech tree the
+letters M.T., and underneath a large X.
+
+‘What, have you no Christian name, sir?’ she said.
+
+‘Yes, but I don’t use it.  Now, good-bye, my little friend.—What will you
+do with yourself to-day, when you are gone from me?’ he lingered to ask.
+
+‘Oh—I shall go to my granny’s,’ she replied with some gloom; ‘and have
+breakfast, and dinner, and tea with her, I suppose; and in the evening I
+shall go home to Silverthorn Dairy, and perhaps Jim will come to meet me,
+and all will be the same as usual.’
+
+‘Who is Jim?’
+
+‘O, he’s nobody—only the young man I’ve got to marry some day.’
+
+‘What!—you engaged to be married?—Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
+
+‘I—I don’t know, sir.’
+
+‘What is the young man’s name?’
+
+‘James Hayward.’
+
+‘What is he?’
+
+‘A master lime-burner.’
+
+‘Engaged to a master lime-burner, and not a word of this to me!  Margery,
+Margery! when shall a straightforward one of your sex be found!  Subtle
+even in your simplicity!  What mischief have you caused me to do, through
+not telling me this?  I wouldn’t have so endangered anybody’s happiness
+for a thousand pounds.  Wicked girl that you were; why didn’t you tell
+me?’
+
+‘I thought I’d better not!’ said Margery, beginning to be frightened.
+
+‘But don’t you see and understand that if you are already the property of
+a young man, and he were to find out this night’s excursion, he may be
+angry with you and part from you for ever?  With him already in the field
+I had no right to take you at all; he undoubtedly ought to have taken
+you; which really might have been arranged, if you had not deceived me by
+saying you had nobody.’
+
+Margery’s face wore that aspect of woe which comes from the repentant
+consciousness of having been guilty of an enormity.  ‘But he wasn’t good
+enough to take me, sir!’ she said, almost crying; ‘and he isn’t
+absolutely my master until I have married him, is he?’
+
+‘That’s a subject I cannot go into.  However, we must alter our tactics.
+Instead of advising you, as I did at first, to tell of this experience to
+your friends, I must now impress on you that it will be best to keep a
+silent tongue on the matter—perhaps for ever and ever.  It may come right
+some day, and you may be able to say “All’s well that ends well.”  Now,
+good morning, my friend.  Think of Jim, and forget me.’
+
+‘Ah, perhaps I can’t do that,’ she said, with a tear in her eye, and a
+full throat.
+
+‘Well—do your best.  I can say no more.’
+
+He turned and retreated into the wood, and Margery, sighing, went on her
+way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Between six and seven o’clock in the evening of the same day a young man
+descended the hills into the valley of the Exe, at a point about midway
+between Silverthorn and the residence of Margery’s grandmother, four
+miles to the east.
+
+He was a thoroughbred son of the country, as far removed from what is
+known as the provincial, as the latter is from the out-and-out gentleman
+of culture.  His trousers and waistcoat were of fustian, almost white,
+but he wore a jacket of old-fashioned blue West-of-England cloth, so well
+preserved that evidently the article was relegated to a box whenever its
+owner engaged in such active occupations as he usually pursued.  His
+complexion was fair, almost florid, and he had scarcely any beard.
+
+A novel attraction about this young man, which a glancing stranger would
+know nothing of, was a rare and curious freshness of atmosphere that
+appertained to him, to his clothes, to all his belongings, even to the
+room in which he had been sitting.  It might almost have been said that
+by adding him and his implements to an over-crowded apartment you made it
+healthful.  This resulted from his trade.  He was a lime-burner; he
+handled lime daily; and in return the lime rendered him an incarnation of
+salubrity.  His hair was dry, fair, and frizzled, the latter possibly by
+the operation of the same caustic agent.  He carried as a walking-stick a
+green sapling, whose growth had been contorted to a corkscrew pattern by
+a twining honeysuckle.
+
+As he descended to the level ground of the water-meadows he cast his
+glance westward, with a frequency that revealed him to be in search of
+some object in the distance.  It was rather difficult to do this, the low
+sunlight dazzling his eyes by glancing from the river away there, and
+from the ‘carriers’ (as they were called) in his path—narrow artificial
+brooks for conducting the water over the grass.  His course was something
+of a zigzag from the necessity of finding points in these carriers
+convenient for jumping.  Thus peering and leaping and winding, he drew
+near the Exe, the central river of the miles-long mead.
+
+A moving spot became visible to him in the direction of his scrutiny,
+mixed up with the rays of the same river.  The spot got nearer, and
+revealed itself to be a slight thing of pink cotton and shepherd’s plaid,
+which pursued a path on the brink of the stream.  The young man so shaped
+his trackless course as to impinge on the path a little ahead of this
+coloured form, and when he drew near her he smiled and reddened.  The
+girl smiled back to him; but her smile had not the life in it that the
+young man’s had shown.
+
+‘My dear Margery—here I am!’ he said gladly in an undertone, as with a
+last leap he crossed the last intervening carrier, and stood at her side.
+
+‘You’ve come all the way from the kiln, on purpose to meet me, and you
+shouldn’t have done it,’ she reproachfully returned.
+
+‘We finished there at four, so it was no trouble; and if it had been—why,
+I should ha’ come.’
+
+A small sigh was the response.
+
+‘What, you are not even so glad to see me as you would be to see your dog
+or cat?’ he continued.  ‘Come, Mis’ess Margery, this is rather hard.
+But, by George, how tired you dew look!  Why, if you’d been up all night
+your eyes couldn’t be more like tea-saucers.  You’ve walked tew far,
+that’s what it is.  The weather is getting warm now, and the air of these
+low-lying meads is not strengthening in summer.  I wish you lived up on
+higher ground with me, beside the kiln.  You’d get as strong as a hoss!
+Well, there; all that will come in time.’
+
+Instead of saying yes, the fair maid repressed another sigh.
+
+‘What, won’t it, then?’ he said.
+
+‘I suppose so,’ she answered.  ‘If it is to be, it is.’
+
+‘Well said—very well said, my dear.’
+
+‘And if it isn’t to be it isn’t.’
+
+‘What?  Who’s been putting that into your head?  Your grumpy granny, I
+suppose.  However, how is she?  Margery, I have been thinking to-day—in
+fact, I was thinking it yesterday and all the week—that really we might
+settle our little business this summer.’
+
+‘This summer?’ she repeated, with some dismay.  ‘But the partnership?
+Remember it was not to be till after that was completed.’
+
+‘There I have you!’ said he, taking the liberty to pat her shoulder, and
+the further liberty of advancing his hand behind it to the other.  ‘The
+partnership is settled.  ’Tis “Vine and Hayward, lime-burners,” now, and
+“Richard Vine” no longer.  Yes, Cousin Richard has settled it so, for a
+time at least, and ’tis to be painted on the carts this week—blue
+letters—yaller ground.  I’ll boss one of ’em, and drive en round to your
+door as soon as the paint is dry, to show ’ee how it looks?’
+
+‘Oh, I am sure you needn’t take that trouble, Jim; I can see it quite
+well enough in my mind,’ replied the young girl—not without a flitting
+accent of superiority.
+
+‘Hullo,’ said Jim, taking her by the shoulders, and looking at her hard.
+‘What dew that bit of incivility mean?  Now, Margery, let’s sit down
+here, and have this cleared.’  He rapped with his stick upon the rail of
+a little bridge they were crossing, and seated himself firmly, leaving a
+place for her.
+
+‘But I want to get home-along,’ dear Jim, she coaxed.
+
+‘Fidgets.  Sit down, there’s a dear.  I want a straightforward answer, if
+you please.  In what month, and on what day of the month, will you marry
+me?’
+
+‘O, Jim,’ she said, sitting gingerly on the edge, ‘that’s too
+plain-spoken for you yet.  Before I look at it in that business light I
+should have to—to—’
+
+‘But your father has settled it long ago, and you said it should be as
+soon as I became a partner.  So, dear, you must not mind a plain man
+wanting a plain answer.  Come, name your time.’
+
+She did not reply at once.  What thoughts were passing through her brain
+during the interval?  Not images raised by his words, but whirling
+figures of men and women in red and white and blue, reflected from a
+glassy floor, in movements timed by the thrilling beats of the Drum
+Polka.  At last she said slowly, ‘Jim, you don’t know the world, and what
+a woman’s wants can be.’
+
+‘But I can make you comfortable.  I am in lodgings as yet, but I can have
+a house for the asking; and as to furniture, you shall choose of the best
+for yourself—the very best.’
+
+‘The best!  Far are you from knowing what that is!’ said the little
+woman.  ‘There be ornaments such as you never dream of; work-tables that
+would set you in amaze; silver candlesticks, tea and coffee pots that
+would dazzle your eyes; tea-cups, and saucers, gilded all over with
+guinea-gold; heavy velvet curtains, gold clocks, pictures, and
+looking-glasses beyond your very dreams.  So don’t say I shall have the
+best.’
+
+‘H’m!’ said Jim gloomily; and fell into reflection.  ‘Where did you get
+those high notions from, Margery?’ he presently inquired.  ‘I’ll swear
+you hadn’t got ’em a week ago.’  She did not answer, and he added, ‘_Yew_
+don’t expect to have such things, I hope; deserve them as you may?’
+
+‘I was not exactly speaking of what I wanted,’ she said severely.  ‘I
+said, things a woman _could_ want.  And since you wish to know what I
+_can_ want to quite satisfy me, I assure you I can want those!’
+
+‘You are a pink-and-white conundrum, Margery,’ he said; ‘and I give you
+up for to-night.  Anybody would think the devil had showed you all the
+kingdoms of the world since I saw you last!’
+
+She reddened.  ‘Perhaps he has!’ she murmured; then arose, he following
+her; and they soon reached Margery’s home, approaching it from the lower
+or meadow side—the opposite to that of the garden top, where she had met
+the Baron.
+
+‘You’ll come in, won’t you, Jim?’ she said, with more ceremony than
+heartiness.
+
+‘No—I think not to-night,’ he answered.  ‘I’ll consider what you’ve
+said.’
+
+‘You are very good, Jim,’ she returned lightly.  ‘Good-bye.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Jim thoughtfully retraced his steps.  He was a village character, and he
+had a villager’s simplicity: that is, the simplicity which comes from the
+lack of a complicated experience.  But simple by nature he certainly was
+not.  Among the rank and file of rustics he was quite a Talleyrand, or
+rather had been one, till he lost a good deal of his self-command by
+falling in love.
+
+Now, however, that the charming object of his distraction was out of
+sight he could deliberate, and measure, and weigh things with some
+approach to keenness.  The substance of his queries was, What change had
+come over Margery—whence these new notions?
+
+Ponder as he would he could evolve no answer save one, which, eminently
+unsatisfactory as it was, he felt it would be unreasonable not to accept:
+that she was simply skittish and ambitious by nature, and would not be
+hunted into matrimony till he had provided a well-adorned home.
+
+Jim retrod the miles to the kiln, and looked to the fires.  The kiln
+stood in a peculiar, interesting, even impressive spot.  It was at the
+end of a short ravine in a limestone formation, and all around was an
+open hilly down.  The nearest house was that of Jim’s cousin and partner,
+which stood on the outskirts of the down beside the turnpike-road.  From
+this house a little lane wound between the steep escarpments of the
+ravine till it reached the kiln, which faced down the miniature valley,
+commanding it as a fort might command a defile.
+
+The idea of a fort in this association owed little to imagination.  For
+on the nibbled green steep above the kiln stood a bye-gone, worn-out
+specimen of such an erection, huge, impressive, and difficult to scale
+even now in its decay.  It was a British castle or entrenchment, with
+triple rings of defence, rising roll behind roll, their outlines cutting
+sharply against the sky, and Jim’s kiln nearly undermining their base.
+When the lime-kiln flared up in the night, which it often did, its fires
+lit up the front of these ramparts to a great majesty.  They were old
+friends of his, and while keeping up the heat through the long darkness,
+as it was sometimes his duty to do, he would imagine the dancing lights
+and shades about the stupendous earthwork to be the forms of those giants
+who (he supposed) had heaped it up.  Often he clambered upon it, and
+walked about the summit, thinking out the problems connected with his
+business, his partner, his future, his Margery.
+
+It was what he did this evening, continuing the meditation on the young
+girl’s manner that he had begun upon the road, and still, as then,
+finding no clue to the change.
+
+While thus engaged he observed a man coming up the ravine to the kiln.
+Business messages were almost invariably left at the house below, and Jim
+watched the man with the interest excited by a belief that he had come on
+a personal matter.  On nearer approach Jim recognized him as the gardener
+at Mount Lodge some miles away.  If this meant business, the Baron (of
+whose arrival Jim had vaguely heard) was a new and unexpected customer.
+
+It meant nothing else, apparently.  The man’s errand was simply to inform
+Jim that the Baron required a load of lime for the garden.
+
+‘You might have saved yourself trouble by leaving word at Mr. Vine’s,’
+said Jim.
+
+‘I was to see you personally,’ said the gardener, ‘and to say that the
+Baron would like to inquire of you about the different qualities of lime
+proper for such purposes.’
+
+‘Couldn’t you tell him yourself?’ said Jim.
+
+‘He said I was to tell you that,’ replied the gardener; ‘and it wasn’t
+for me to interfere.’
+
+No motive other than the ostensible one could possibly be conjectured by
+Jim Hayward at this time; and the next morning he started with great
+pleasure, in his best business suit of clothes.  By eleven o’clock he and
+his horse and cart had arrived on the Baron’s premises, and the lime was
+deposited where directed; an exceptional spot, just within view of the
+windows of the south front.
+
+Baron von Xanten, pale and melancholy, was sauntering in the sun on the
+slope between the house and the all-the-year-round.  He looked across to
+where Jim and the gardener were standing, and the identity of Hayward
+being established by what he brought, the Baron came down, and the
+gardener withdrew.
+
+The Baron’s first inquiries were, as Jim had been led to suppose they
+would be, on the exterminating effects of lime upon slugs and snails in
+its different conditions of slaked and unslaked, ground and in the lump.
+He appeared to be much interested by Jim’s explanations, and eyed the
+young man closely whenever he had an opportunity.
+
+‘And I hope trade is prosperous with you this year,’ said the Baron.
+
+‘Very, my noble lord,’ replied Jim, who, in his uncertainty on the proper
+method of address, wisely concluded that it was better to err by giving
+too much honour than by giving too little.  ‘In short, trade is looking
+so well that I’ve become a partner in the firm.’
+
+‘Indeed; I am glad to hear it.  So now you are settled in life.’
+
+‘Well, my lord; I am hardly settled, even now.  For I’ve got to finish
+it—I mean, to get married.’
+
+‘That’s an easy matter, compared with the partnership.’
+
+‘Now a man might think so, my baron,’ said Jim, getting more
+confidential.  ‘But the real truth is, ’tis the hardest part of all for
+me.’
+
+‘Your suit prospers, I hope?’
+
+‘It don’t,’ said Jim.  ‘It don’t at all just at present.  In short, I
+can’t for the life o’ me think what’s come over the young woman lately.’
+And he fell into deep reflection.
+
+Though Jim did not observe it, the Baron’s brow became shadowed with
+self-reproach as he heard those simple words, and his eyes had a look of
+pity.  ‘Indeed—since when?’ he asked.
+
+‘Since yesterday, my noble lord.’  Jim spoke meditatively.  He was
+resolving upon a bold stroke.  Why not make a confidant of this kind
+gentleman, instead of the parson, as he had intended?  The thought was no
+sooner conceived than acted on.  ‘My lord,’ he resumed, ‘I have heard
+that you are a nobleman of great scope and talent, who has seen more
+strange countries and characters than I have ever heard of, and know the
+insides of men well.  Therefore I would fain put a question to your noble
+lordship, if I may so trouble you, and having nobody else in the world
+who could inform me so trewly.’
+
+‘Any advice I can give is at your service, Hayward.  What do you wish to
+know?’
+
+‘It is this, my baron.  What can I do to bring down a young woman’s
+ambition that’s got to such a towering height there’s no reaching it or
+compassing it: how get her to be pleased with me and my station as she
+used to be when I first knew her?’
+
+‘Truly, that’s a hard question, my man.  What does she aspire to?’
+
+‘She’s got a craze for fine furniture.’
+
+‘How long has she had it?’
+
+‘Only just now.’
+
+The Baron seemed still more to experience regret.
+
+‘What furniture does she specially covet?’ he asked.
+
+‘Silver candlesticks, work-tables, looking-glasses, gold tea-things,
+silver tea-pots, gold clocks, curtains, pictures, and I don’t know what
+all—things I shall never get if I live to be a hundred—not so much that I
+couldn’t raise the money to buy ’em, as that to put it to other uses, or
+save it for a rainy day.’
+
+‘You think the possession of those articles would make her happy?’
+
+‘I really think they might, my lord.’
+
+‘Good.  Open your pocket-book and write as I tell you.’
+
+Jim in some astonishment did as commanded, and elevating his pocket-book
+against the garden-wall, thoroughly moistened his pencil, and wrote at
+the Baron’s dictation:
+
+‘Pair of silver candlesticks: inlaid work-table and work-box: one large
+mirror: two small ditto: one gilt china tea and coffee service: one
+silver tea-pot, coffee-pot, sugar-basin, jug, and dozen spoons: French
+clock: pair of curtains: six large pictures.’
+
+‘Now,’ said the Baron, ‘tear out that leaf and give it to me.  Keep a
+close tongue about this; go home, and don’t be surprised at anything that
+may come to your door.’
+
+‘But, my noble lord, you don’t mean that your lordship is going to give—’
+
+‘Never mind what I am going to do.  Only keep your own counsel.  I
+perceive that, though a plain countryman, you are by no means deficient
+in tact and understanding.  If sending these things to you gives me
+pleasure, why should you object?  The fact is, Hayward, I occasionally
+take an interest in people, and like to do a little for them.  I take an
+interest in you.  Now go home, and a week hence invite Marg—the young
+woman and her father, to tea with you.  The rest is in your own hands.’
+
+A question often put to Jim in after times was why it had not occurred to
+him at once that the Baron’s liberal conduct must have been dictated by
+something more personal than sudden spontaneous generosity to him, a
+stranger.  To which Jim always answered that, admitting the existence of
+such generosity, there had appeared nothing remarkable in the Baron
+selecting himself as its object.  The Baron had told him that he took an
+interest in him; and self-esteem, even with the most modest, is usually
+sufficient to over-ride any little difficulty that might occur to an
+outsider in accounting for a preference.  He moreover considered that
+foreign noblemen, rich and eccentric, might have habits of acting which
+were quite at variance with those of their English compeers.
+
+So he drove off homeward with a lighter heart than he had known for
+several days.  To have a foreign gentleman take a fancy to him—what a
+triumph to a plain sort of fellow, who had scarcely expected the Baron to
+look in his face.  It would be a fine story to tell Margery when the
+Baron gave him liberty to speak out.
+
+Jim lodged at the house of his cousin and partner, Richard Vine, a
+widower of fifty odd years.  Having failed in the development of a
+household of direct descendants this tradesman had been glad to let his
+chambers to his much younger relative, when the latter entered on the
+business of lime manufacture; and their intimacy had led to a
+partnership.  Jim lived upstairs; his partner lived down, and the
+furniture of all the rooms was so plain and old fashioned as to excite
+the special dislike of Miss Margery Tucker, and even to prejudice her
+against Jim for tolerating it.  Not only were the chairs and tables
+queer, but, with due regard to the principle that a man’s surroundings
+should bear the impress of that man’s life and occupation, the chief
+ornaments of the dwelling were a curious collection of calcinations, that
+had been discovered from time to time in the lime-kiln—misshapen ingots
+of strange substance, some of them like Pompeian remains.
+
+The head of the firm was a quiet-living, narrow-minded, though friendly,
+man of fifty; and he took a serious interest in Jim’s love-suit,
+frequently inquiring how it progressed, and assuring Jim that if he chose
+to marry he might have all the upper floor at a low rent, he, Mr. Vine,
+contenting himself entirely with the ground level.  It had been so
+convenient for discussing business matters to have Jim in the same house,
+that he did not wish any change to be made in consequence of a change in
+Jim’s domestic estate.  Margery knew of this wish, and of Jim’s
+concurrent feeling; and did not like the idea at all.
+
+About four days after the young man’s interview with the Baron, there
+drew up in front of Jim’s house at noon a waggon laden with cases and
+packages, large and small.  They were all addressed to ‘Mr. Hayward,’ and
+they had come from the largest furnishing ware-houses in that part of
+England.
+
+Three-quarters of an hour were occupied in getting the cases to Jim’s
+rooms.  The wary Jim did not show the amazement he felt at his patron’s
+munificence; and presently the senior partner came into the passage, and
+wondered what was lumbering upstairs.
+
+‘Oh—it’s only some things of mine,’ said Jim coolly.
+
+‘Bearing upon the coming event—eh?’ said his partner.
+
+‘Exactly,’ replied Jim.
+
+Mr. Vine, with some astonishment at the number of cases, shortly after
+went away to the kiln; whereupon Jim shut himself into his rooms, and
+there he might have been heard ripping up and opening boxes with a
+cautious hand, afterwards appearing outside the door with them empty, and
+carrying them off to the outhouse.
+
+A triumphant look lit up his face when, a little later in the afternoon,
+he sent into the vale to the dairy, and invited Margery and her father to
+his house to supper.
+
+She was not unsociable that day, and, her father expressing a hard and
+fast acceptance of the invitation, she perforce agreed to go with him.
+Meanwhile at home, Jim made himself as mysteriously busy as before in
+those rooms of his, and when his partner returned he too was asked to
+join in the supper.
+
+At dusk Hayward went to the door, where he stood till he heard the voices
+of his guests from the direction of the low grounds, now covered with
+their frequent fleece of fog.  The voices grew more distinct, and then on
+the white surface of the fog there appeared two trunkless heads, from
+which bodies and a horse and cart gradually extended as the approaching
+pair rose towards the house.
+
+When they had entered Jim pressed Margery’s hand and conducted her up to
+his rooms, her father waiting below to say a few words to the senior
+lime-burner.
+
+‘Bless me,’ said Jim to her, on entering the sitting-room; ‘I quite
+forgot to get a light beforehand; but I’ll have one in a jiffy.’
+
+Margery stood in the middle of the dark room, while Jim struck a match;
+and then the young girl’s eyes were conscious of a burst of light, and
+the rise into being of a pair of handsome silver candlesticks containing
+two candles that Jim was in the act of lighting.
+
+‘Why—where—you have candlesticks like that?’ said Margery.  Her eyes flew
+round the room as the growing candle-flames showed other articles.
+‘Pictures too—and lovely china—why I knew nothing of this, I declare.’
+
+‘Yes—a few things that came to me by accident,’ said Jim in quiet tones.
+
+‘And a great gold clock under a glass, and a cupid swinging for a
+pendulum; and O what a lovely work-table—woods of every colour—and a
+work-box to match.  May I look inside that work-box, Jim?—whose is it?’
+
+‘O yes; look at it, of course.  It is a poor enough thing, but ’tis mine;
+and it will belong to the woman I marry, whoever she may be, as well as
+all the other things here.’
+
+‘And the curtains and the looking-glasses: why I declare I can see myself
+in a hundred places.’
+
+‘That tea-set,’ said Jim, placidly pointing to a gorgeous china service
+and a large silver tea-pot on the side table, ‘I don’t use at present,
+being a bachelor-man; but, says I to myself, “whoever I marry will want
+some such things for giving her parties; or I can sell em”—but I haven’t
+took steps for’t yet—’
+
+‘Sell ’em—no, I should think not,’ said Margery with earnest reproach.
+‘Why, I hope you wouldn’t be so foolish!  Why, this is exactly the kind
+of thing I was thinking of when I told you of the things women could
+want—of course not meaning myself particularly.  I had no idea that you
+had such valuable—’
+
+Margery was unable to speak coherently, so much was she amazed at the
+wealth of Jim’s possessions.
+
+At this moment her father and the lime-burner came upstairs; and to
+appear womanly and proper to Mr. Vine, Margery repressed the remainder of
+her surprise.
+
+As for the two elderly worthies, it was not till they entered the room
+and sat down that their slower eyes discerned anything brilliant in the
+appointments.  Then one of them stole a glance at some article, and the
+other at another; but each being unwilling to express his wonder in the
+presence of his neighbours, they received the objects before them with
+quite an accustomed air; the lime-burner inwardly trying to conjecture
+what all this meant, and the dairyman musing that if Jim’s business
+allowed him to accumulate at this rate, the sooner Margery became his
+wife the better.  Margery retreated to the work-table, work-box, and
+tea-service, which she examined with hushed exclamations.
+
+An entertainment thus surprisingly begun could not fail to progress well.
+Whenever Margery’s crusty old father felt the need of a civil sentence,
+the flash of Jim’s fancy articles inspired him to one; while the
+lime-burner, having reasoned away his first ominous thought that all this
+had come out of the firm, also felt proud and blithe.
+
+Jim accompanied his dairy friends part of the way home before they
+mounted.  Her father, finding that Jim wanted to speak to her privately,
+and that she exhibited some elusiveness, turned to Margery and said;
+‘Come, come, my lady; no more of this nonsense.  You just step behind
+with that young man, and I and the cart will wait for you.’
+
+Margery, a little scared at her father’s peremptoriness, obeyed.  It was
+plain that Jim had won the old man by that night’s stroke, if he had not
+won her.
+
+‘I know what you are going to say, Jim,’ she began, less ardently now,
+for she was no longer under the novel influence of the shining silver and
+glass.  ‘Well, as you desire it, and as my father desires it, and as I
+suppose it will be the best course for me, I will fix the day—not this
+evening, but as soon as I can think it over.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Notwithstanding a press of business, Jim went and did his duty in
+thanking the Baron.  The latter saw him in his fishing-tackle room, an
+apartment littered with every appliance that a votary of the rod could
+require.
+
+‘And when is the wedding-day to be, Hayward?’ the Baron asked, after Jim
+had told him that matters were settled.
+
+‘It is not quite certain yet, my noble lord,’ said Jim cheerfully.  ‘But
+I hope ’twill not be long after the time when God A’mighty christens the
+little apples.’
+
+‘And when is that?’
+
+‘St. Swithin’s—the middle of July.  ’Tis to be some time in that month,
+she tells me.’
+
+When Jim was gone the Baron seemed meditative.  He went out, ascended the
+mount, and entered the weather-screen, where he looked at the seats, as
+though re-enacting in his fancy the scene of that memorable morning of
+fog.  He turned his eyes to the angle of the shelter, round which Margery
+had suddenly appeared like a vision, and it was plain that he would not
+have minded her appearing there then.  The juncture had indeed been such
+an impressive and critical one that she must have seemed rather a
+heavenly messenger than a passing milkmaid, more especially to a man like
+the Baron, who, despite the mystery of his origin and life, revealed
+himself to be a melancholy, emotional character—the Jacques of this
+forest and stream.
+
+Behind the mount the ground rose yet higher, ascending to a plantation
+which sheltered the house.  The Baron strolled up here, and bent his gaze
+over the distance.  The valley of the Exe lay before him, with its
+shining river, the brooks that fed it, and the trickling springs that fed
+the brooks.  The situation of Margery’s house was visible, though not the
+house itself; and the Baron gazed that way for an infinitely long time,
+till, remembering himself, he moved on.
+
+Instead of returning to the house he went along the ridge till he arrived
+at the verge of Chillington Wood, and in the same desultory manner roamed
+under the trees, not pausing till he had come to Three-Walks-End, and the
+hollow elm hard by.  He peeped in at the rift.  In the soft dry layer of
+touch-wood that floored the hollow Margery’s tracks were still visible,
+as she had made them there when dressing for the ball.
+
+‘Little Margery!’ murmured the Baron.
+
+In a moment he thought better of this mood, and turned to go home.  But
+behold, a form stood behind him—that of the girl whose name had been on
+his lips.
+
+She was in utter confusion.  ‘I—I—did not know you were here, sir!’ she
+began.  ‘I was out for a little walk.’  She could get no further; her
+eyes filled with tears.  That spice of wilfulness, even hardness, which
+characterized her in Jim’s company, magically disappeared in the presence
+of the Baron.
+
+‘Never mind, never mind,’ said he, masking under a severe manner whatever
+he felt.  ‘The meeting is awkward, and ought not to have occurred,
+especially if as I suppose, you are shortly to be married to James
+Hayward.  But it cannot be helped now.  You had no idea I was here, of
+course.  Neither had I of seeing you.  Remember you cannot be too
+careful,’ continued the Baron, in the same grave tone; ‘and I strongly
+request you as a friend to do your utmost to avoid meetings like this.
+When you saw me before I turned, why did you not go away?’
+
+‘I did not see you, sir.  I did not think of seeing you.  I was walking
+this way, and I only looked in to see the tree.’
+
+‘That shows you have been thinking of things you should not think of,’
+returned the Baron.  ‘Good morning.’
+
+Margery could answer nothing.  A browbeaten glance, almost of misery, was
+all she gave him.  He took a slow step away from her; then turned
+suddenly back and, stooping, impulsively kissed her cheek, taking her as
+much by surprise as ever a woman was taken in her life.
+
+Immediately after he went off with a flushed face and rapid strides,
+which he did not check till he was within his own boundaries.
+
+The haymaking season now set in vigorously, and the weir-hatches were all
+drawn in the meads to drain off the water.  The streams ran themselves
+dry, and there was no longer any difficulty in walking about among them.
+The Baron could very well witness from the elevations about his house the
+activity which followed these preliminaries.  The white shirt-sleeves of
+the mowers glistened in the sun, the scythes flashed, voices echoed,
+snatches of song floated about, and there were glimpses of red
+waggon-wheels, purple gowns, and many-coloured handkerchiefs.
+
+The Baron had been told that the haymaking was to be followed by the
+wedding, and had he gone down the vale to the dairy he would have had
+evidence to that effect.  Dairyman Tucker’s house was in a whirlpool of
+bustle, and among other difficulties was that of turning the cheese-room
+into a genteel apartment for the time being, and hiding the awkwardness
+of having to pass through the milk-house to get to the parlour door.
+These household contrivances appeared to interest Margery much more than
+the great question of dressing for the ceremony and the ceremony itself.
+In all relating to that she showed an indescribable backwardness, which
+later on was well remembered.
+
+‘If it were only somebody else, and I was one of the bridesmaids, I
+really think I should like it better!’ she murmured one afternoon.
+
+‘Away with thee—that’s only your shyness!’ said one of the milkmaids.
+
+It is said that about this time the Baron seemed to feel the effects of
+solitude strongly.  Solitude revives the simple instincts of primitive
+man, and lonely country nooks afford rich soil for wayward emotions.
+Moreover, idleness waters those unconsidered impulses which a short
+season of turmoil would stamp out.  It is difficult to speak with any
+exactness of the bearing of such conditions on the mind of the Baron—a
+man of whom so little was ever truly known—but there is no doubt that his
+mind ran much on Margery as an individual, without reference to her rank
+or quality, or to the question whether she would marry Jim Hayward that
+summer.  She was the single lovely human thing within his present
+horizon, for he lived in absolute seclusion; and her image unduly
+affected him.
+
+But, leaving conjecture, let me state what happened.
+
+One Saturday evening, two or three weeks after his accidental meeting
+with her in the wood, he wrote the note following:—
+
+    DEAR MARGERY,—
+
+    You must not suppose that, because I spoke somewhat severely to you
+    at our chance encounter by the hollow tree, I have any feeling
+    against you.  Far from it.  Now, as ever, I have the most grateful
+    sense of your considerate kindness to me on a momentous occasion
+    which shall be nameless.
+
+    You solemnly promised to come and see me whenever I should send for
+    you.  Can you call for five minutes as soon as possible, and disperse
+    those plaguy glooms from which I am so unfortunate as to suffer?  If
+    you refuse I will not answer for the consequences.
+
+    I shall be in the summer shelter of the mount to-morrow morning at
+    half-past ten.  If you come I shall be grateful.  I have also
+    something for you.
+
+                                                                    Yours,
+                                                                        X.
+
+In keeping with the tenor of this epistle the desponding, self-oppressed
+Baron ascended the mount on Sunday morning and sat down.  There was
+nothing here to signify exactly the hour, but before the church bells had
+begun he heard somebody approaching at the back.  The light footstep
+moved timidly, first to one recess, and then to another; then to the
+third, where he sat in the shade.  Poor Margery stood before him.
+
+She looked worn and weary, and her little shoes and the skirts of her
+dress were covered with dust.  The weather was sultry, the sun being
+already high and powerful, and rain had not fallen for weeks.  The Baron,
+who walked little, had thought nothing of the effects of this heat and
+drought in inducing fatigue.  A distance which had been but a reasonable
+exercise on a foggy morning was a drag for Margery now.  She was out of
+breath; and anxiety, even unhappiness was written on her everywhere.
+
+He rose to his feet, and took her hand.  He was vexed with himself at
+sight of her.  ‘My dear little girl!’ he said.  ‘You are tired—you should
+not have come.’
+
+‘You sent for me, sir; and I was afraid you were ill; and my promise to
+you was sacred.’
+
+He bent over her, looking upon her downcast face, and still holding her
+hand; then he dropped it, and took a pace or two backwards.
+
+‘It was a whim, nothing more,’ he said, sadly.  ‘I wanted to see my
+little friend, to express good wishes—and to present her with this.’  He
+held forward a small morocco case, and showed her how to open it,
+disclosing a pretty locket, set with pearls.  ‘It is intended as a
+wedding present,’ he continued.  ‘To be returned to me again if you do
+not marry Jim this summer—it is to be this summer, I think?’
+
+‘It was, sir,’ she said with agitation.  ‘But it is so no longer.  And,
+therefore, I cannot take this.’
+
+‘What do you say?’
+
+‘It was to have been to-day; but now it cannot be.’
+
+‘The wedding to-day—Sunday?’ he cried.
+
+‘We fixed Sunday not to hinder much time at this busy season of the
+year,’ replied she.
+
+‘And have you, then, put it off—surely not?’
+
+‘You sent for me, and I have come,’ she answered humbly, like an obedient
+familiar in the employ of some great enchanter.  Indeed, the Baron’s
+power over this innocent girl was curiously like enchantment, or mesmeric
+influence.  It was so masterful that the sexual element was almost
+eliminated.  It was that of Prospero over the gentle Ariel.  And yet it
+was probably only that of the cosmopolite over the recluse, of the
+experienced man over the simple maid.
+
+‘You have come—on your wedding-day!—O Margery, this is a mistake.  Of
+course, you should not have obeyed me, since, though I thought your
+wedding would be soon, I did not know it was to-day.’
+
+‘I promised you, sir; and I would rather keep my promise to you than be
+married to Jim.’
+
+‘That must not be—the feeling is wrong!’ he murmured, looking at the
+distant hills.  ‘There seems to be a fate in all this; I get out of the
+frying-pan into the fire.  What a recompense to you for your goodness!
+The fact is, I was out of health and out of spirits, so I—but no more of
+that.  Now instantly to repair this tremendous blunder that we have
+made—that’s the question.’
+
+After a pause, he went on hurriedly, ‘Walk down the hill; get into the
+road.  By that time I shall be there with a phaeton.  We may get back in
+time.  What time is it now?  If not, no doubt the wedding can be
+to-morrow; so all will come right again.  Don’t cry, my dear girl.  Keep
+the locket, of course—you’ll marry Jim.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+He hastened down towards the stables, and she went on as directed.  It
+seemed as if he must have put in the horse himself, so quickly did he
+reappear with the phaeton on the open road.  Margery silently took her
+seat, and the Baron seemed cut to the quick with self-reproach as he
+noticed the listless indifference with which she acted.  There was no
+doubt that in her heart she had preferred obeying the apparently
+important mandate that morning to becoming Jim’s wife; but there was no
+less doubt that had the Baron left her alone she would quietly have gone
+to the altar.
+
+He drove along furiously, in a cloud of dust.  There was much to
+contemplate in that peaceful Sunday morning—the windless trees and
+fields, the shaking sunlight, the pause in human stir.  Yet neither of
+them heeded, and thus they drew near to the dairy.  His first expressed
+intention had been to go indoors with her, but this he abandoned as
+impolitic in the highest degree.
+
+‘You may be soon enough,’ he said, springing down, and helping her to
+follow.  ‘Tell the truth: say you were sent for to receive a wedding
+present—that it was a mistake on my part—a mistake on yours; and I think
+they’ll forgive . . . And, Margery, my last request to you is this: that
+if I send for you again, you do not come.  Promise solemnly, my dear
+girl, that any such request shall be unheeded.’
+
+Her lips moved, but the promise was not articulated.  ‘O, sir, I cannot
+promise it!’ she said at last.
+
+‘But you must; your salvation may depend on it!’ he insisted almost
+sternly.  ‘You don’t know what I am.’
+
+‘Then, sir, I promise,’ she replied.  ‘Now leave me to myself, please,
+and I’ll go indoors and manage matters.’
+
+He turned the horse and drove away, but only for a little distance.  Out
+of sight he pulled rein suddenly.  ‘Only to go back and propose it to
+her, and she’d come!’ he murmured.
+
+He stood up in the phaeton, and by this means he could see over the
+hedge.  Margery still sat listlessly in the same place; there was not a
+lovelier flower in the field.  ‘No,’ he said; ‘no, no—never!’  He
+reseated himself, and the wheels sped lightly back over the soft dust to
+Mount Lodge.
+
+Meanwhile Margery had not moved.  If the Baron could dissimulate on the
+side of severity she could dissimulate on the side of calm.  He did not
+know what had been veiled by the quiet promise to manage matters indoors.
+Rising at length she first turned away from the house; and, by-and-by,
+having apparently forgotten till then that she carried it in her hand,
+she opened the case, and looked at the locket.  This seemed to give her
+courage.  She turned, set her face towards the dairy in good earnest, and
+though her heart faltered when the gates came in sight, she kept on and
+drew near the door.
+
+On the threshold she stood listening.  The house was silent.  Decorations
+were visible in the passage, and also the carefully swept and sanded path
+to the gate, which she was to have trodden as a bride; but the sparrows
+hopped over it as if it were abandoned; and all appeared to have been
+checked at its climacteric, like a clock stopped on the strike.  Till
+this moment of confronting the suspended animation of the scene she had
+not realized the full shock of the convulsion which her disappearance
+must have caused.  It is quite certain—apart from her own repeated
+assurances to that effect in later years—that in hastening off that
+morning to her sudden engagement, Margery had not counted the cost of
+such an enterprise; while a dim notion that she might get back again in
+time for the ceremony, if the message meant nothing serious, should also
+be mentioned in her favour.  But, upon the whole, she had obeyed the call
+with an unreasoning obedience worthy of a disciple in primitive times.  A
+conviction that the Baron’s life might depend upon her presence—for she
+had by this time divined the tragical event she had interrupted on the
+foggy morning—took from her all will to judge and consider calmly.  The
+simple affairs of her and hers seemed nothing beside the possibility of
+harm to him.
+
+A well-known step moved on the sanded floor within, and she went forward.
+That she saw her father’s face before her, just within the door, can
+hardly be said: it was rather Reproach and Rage in a human mask.
+
+‘What! ye have dared to come back alive, hussy, to look upon the dupery
+you have practised on honest people!  You’ve mortified us all; I don’t
+want to see ’ee; I don’t want to hear ’ee; I don’t want to know
+anything!’  He walked up and down the room, unable to command himself.
+‘Nothing but being dead could have excused ’ee for not meeting and
+marrying that man this morning; and yet you have the brazen impudence to
+stand there as well as ever!  What be you here for?’
+
+‘I’ve come back to marry Jim, if he wants me to,’ she said faintly.  ‘And
+if not—perhaps so much the better.  I was sent for this morning early.  I
+thought—.’  She halted.  To say that she had thought a man’s death might
+happen by his own hand if she did not go to him, would never do.  ‘I was
+obliged to go,’ she said.  ‘I had given my word.’
+
+‘Why didn’t you tell us then, so that the wedding could be put off,
+without making fools o’ us?’
+
+‘Because I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go, and I had made up my mind
+to go.’
+
+‘To go where?’
+
+She was silent; till she said, ‘I will tell Jim all, and why it was; and
+if he’s any friend of mine he’ll excuse me.’
+
+‘Not Jim—he’s no such fool.  Jim had put all ready for you, Jim had
+called at your house, a-dressed up in his new wedding clothes, and
+a-smiling like the sun; Jim had told the parson, had got the ringers in
+tow, and the clerk awaiting; and then—you was _gone_!  Then Jim turned as
+pale as rendlewood, and busted out, “If she don’t marry me to-day,” ’a
+said, “she don’t marry me at all!  No; let her look elsewhere for a
+husband.  For tew years I’ve put up with her haughty tricks and her
+takings,” ’a said.  “I’ve droudged and I’ve traipsed, I’ve bought and
+I’ve sold, all wi’ an eye to her; I’ve suffered horseflesh,” he says—yes,
+them was his noble words—“but I’ll suffer it no longer.  She shall go!”
+“Jim,” says I, “you be a man.  If she’s alive, I commend ’ee; if she’s
+dead, pity my old age.”  “She isn’t dead,” says he; “for I’ve just heard
+she was seen walking off across the fields this morning, looking all of a
+scornful triumph.”  He turned round and went, and the rest o’ the
+neighbours went; and here be I left to the reproach o’t.’
+
+‘He was too hasty,’ murmured Margery.  ‘For now he’s said this I can’t
+marry him to-morrow, as I might ha’ done; and perhaps so much the
+better.’
+
+‘You can be so calm about it, can ye?  Be my arrangements nothing, then,
+that you should break ’em up, and say off hand what wasn’t done to-day
+might ha’ been done to-morrow, and such flick-flack?  Out o’ my sight!  I
+won’t hear any more.  I won’t speak to ’ee any more.’
+
+‘I’ll go away, and then you’ll be sorry!’
+
+‘Very well, go.  Sorry—not I.’
+
+He turned and stamped his way into the cheese-room.  Margery went
+upstairs.  She too was excited now, and instead of fortifying herself in
+her bedroom till her father’s rage had blown over, as she had often done
+on lesser occasions, she packed up a bundle of articles, crept down
+again, and went out of the house.  She had a place of refuge in these
+cases of necessity, and her father knew it, and was less alarmed at
+seeing her depart than he might otherwise have been.  This place was
+Rook’s Gate, the house of her grandmother, who always took Margery’s part
+when that young woman was particularly in the wrong.
+
+The devious way she pursued, to avoid the vicinity of Mount Lodge, was
+tedious, and she was already weary.  But the cottage was a restful place
+to arrive at, for she was her own mistress there—her grandmother never
+coming down stairs—and Edy, the woman who lived with and attended her,
+being a cipher except in muscle and voice.  The approach was by a
+straight open road, bordered by thin lank trees, all sloping away from
+the south-west wind-quarter, and the scene bore a strange resemblance to
+certain bits of Dutch landscape which have been imprinted on the world’s
+eye by Hobbema and his school.
+
+Having explained to her granny that the wedding was put off; and that she
+had come to stay, one of Margery’s first acts was carefully to pack up
+the locket and case, her wedding present from the Baron.  The conditions
+of the gift were unfulfilled, and she wished it to go back instantly.
+Perhaps, in the intricacies of her bosom, there lurked a greater
+satisfaction with the reason for returning the present than she would
+have felt just then with a reason for keeping it.
+
+To send the article was difficult.  In the evening she wrapped herself
+up, searched and found a gauze veil that had been used by her grandmother
+in past years for hiving swarms of bees, buried her face in it, and
+sallied forth with a palpitating heart till she drew near the tabernacle
+of her demi-god the Baron.  She ventured only to the back-door, where she
+handed in the parcel addressed to him, and quickly came away.
+
+Now it seems that during the day the Baron had been unable to learn the
+result of his attempt to return Margery in time for the event he had
+interrupted.  Wishing, for obvious reasons, to avoid direct inquiry by
+messenger, and being too unwell to go far himself, he could learn no
+particulars.  He was sitting in thought after a lonely dinner when the
+parcel intimating failure as brought in.  The footman, whose curiosity
+had been excited by the mode of its arrival, peeped through the keyhole
+after closing the door, to learn what the packet meant.  Directly the
+Baron had opened it he thrust out his feet vehemently from his chair, and
+began cursing his ruinous conduct in bringing about such a disaster, for
+the return of the locket denoted not only no wedding that day, but none
+to-morrow, or at any time.
+
+‘I have done that innocent woman a great wrong!’ he murmured.  ‘Deprived
+her of, perhaps, her only opportunity of becoming mistress of a happy
+home!’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+A considerable period of inaction followed among all concerned.
+
+Nothing tended to dissipate the obscurity which veiled the life of the
+Baron.  The position he occupied in the minds of the country-folk around
+was one which combined the mysteriousness of a legendary character with
+the unobtrusive deeds of a modern gentleman.  To this day whoever takes
+the trouble to go down to Silverthorn in Lower Wessex and make inquiries
+will find existing there almost a superstitious feeling for the moody
+melancholy stranger who resided in the Lodge some forty years ago.
+
+Whence he came, whither he was going, were alike unknown.  It was said
+that his mother had been an English lady of noble family who had married
+a foreigner not unheard of in circles where men pile up ‘the cankered
+heaps of strange-achieved gold’—that he had been born and educated in
+England, taken abroad, and so on.  But the facts of a life in such cases
+are of little account beside the aspect of a life; and hence, though
+doubtless the years of his existence contained their share of trite and
+homely circumstance, the curtain which masked all this was never lifted
+to gratify such a theatre of spectators as those at Silverthorn.  Therein
+lay his charm.  His life was a vignette, of which the central strokes
+only were drawn with any distinctness, the environment shading away to a
+blank.
+
+He might have been said to resemble that solitary bird the heron.  The
+still, lonely stream was his frequent haunt: on its banks he would stand
+for hours with his rod, looking into the water, beholding the tawny
+inhabitants with the eye of a philosopher, and seeming to say, ‘Bite or
+don’t bite—it’s all the same to me.’  He was often mistaken for a ghost
+by children; and for a pollard willow by men, when, on their way home in
+the dusk, they saw him motionless by some rushy bank, unobservant of the
+decline of day.
+
+Why did he come to fish near Silverthorn?  That was never explained.  As
+far as was known he had no relatives near; the fishing there was not
+exceptionally good; the society thereabout was decidedly meagre.  That he
+had committed some folly or hasty act, that he had been wrongfully
+accused of some crime, thus rendering his seclusion from the world
+desirable for a while, squared very well with his frequent melancholy.
+But such as he was there he lived, well supplied with fishing-tackle, and
+tenant of a furnished house, just suited to the requirements of such an
+eccentric being as he.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+Margery’s father, having privately ascertained that she was living with
+her grandmother, and getting into no harm, refrained from communicating
+with her, in the hope of seeing her contrite at his door.  It had, of
+course, become known about Silverthorn that at the last moment Margery
+refused to wed Hayward, by absenting herself from the house.  Jim was
+pitied, yet not pitied much, for it was said that he ought not to have
+been so eager for a woman who had shown no anxiety for him.
+
+And where was Jim himself?  It must not be supposed that that tactician
+had all this while withdrawn from mortal eye to tear his hair in silent
+indignation and despair.  He had, in truth, merely retired up the
+lonesome defile between the downs to his smouldering kiln, and the
+ancient ramparts above it; and there, after his first hours of natural
+discomposure, he quietly waited for overtures from the possibly repentant
+Margery.  But no overtures arrived, and then he meditated anew on the
+absorbing problem of her skittishness, and how to set about another
+campaign for her conquest, notwithstanding his late disastrous failure.
+Why had he failed?  To what was her strange conduct owing?  That was the
+thing which puzzled him.
+
+He had made no advance in solving the riddle when, one morning, a
+stranger appeared on the down above him, looking as if he had lost his
+way.  The man had a good deal of black hair below his felt hat, and
+carried under his arm a case containing a musical instrument.  Descending
+to where Jim stood, he asked if there were not a short cut across that
+way to Tivworthy, where a fête was to be held.
+
+‘Well, yes, there is,’ said Jim.  ‘But ’tis an enormous distance for
+’ee.’
+
+‘Oh, yes,’ replied the musician.  ‘I wish to intercept the carrier on the
+highway.’
+
+The nearest way was precisely in the direction of Rook’s Gate, where
+Margery, as Jim knew, was staying.  Having some time to spare, Jim was
+strongly impelled to make a kind act to the lost musician a pretext for
+taking observations in that neighbourhood, and telling his acquaintance
+that he was going the same way, he started without further ado.
+
+They skirted the long length of meads, and in due time arrived at the
+back of Rook’s Gate, where the path joined the high road.  A hedge
+divided the public way from the cottage garden.  Jim drew up at this
+point and said, ‘Your road is straight on: I turn back here.’
+
+But the musician was standing fixed, as if in great perplexity.
+Thrusting his hand into his forest of black hair, he murmured, ‘Surely it
+is the same—surely!’
+
+Jim, following the direction of his neighbour’s eyes, found them to be
+fixed on a figure till that moment hidden from himself—Margery Tucker—who
+was crossing the garden to an opposite gate with a little cheese in her
+arms, her head thrown back, and her face quite exposed.
+
+‘What of her?’ said Jim.
+
+‘Two months ago I formed one of the band at the Yeomanry Ball given by
+Lord Toneborough in the next county.  I saw that young lady dancing the
+polka there in robes of gauze and lace.  Now I see her carry a cheese!’
+
+‘Never!’ said Jim incredulously.
+
+‘But I do not mistake.  I say it is so!’
+
+Jim ridiculed the idea; the bandsman protested, and was about to lose his
+temper, when Jim gave in with the good-nature of a person who can afford
+to despise opinions; and the musician went his way.
+
+As he dwindled out of sight Jim began to think more carefully over what
+he had said.  The young man’s thoughts grew quite to an excitement, for
+there came into his mind the Baron’s extraordinary kindness in regard to
+furniture, hitherto accounted for by the assumption that the nobleman had
+taken a fancy to him.  Could it be, among all the amazing things of life,
+that the Baron was at the bottom of this mischief; and that he had amused
+himself by taking Margery to a ball?
+
+Doubts and suspicions which distract some lovers to imbecility only
+served to bring out Jim’s great qualities.  Where he trusted he was the
+most trusting fellow in the world; where he doubted he could be guilty of
+the slyest strategy.  Once suspicious, he became one of those subtle,
+watchful characters who, without integrity, make good thieves; with a
+little, good jobbers; with a little more, good diplomatists.  Jim was
+honest, and he considered what to do.
+
+Retracing his steps, he peeped again.  She had gone in; but she would
+soon reappear, for it could be seen that she was carrying little new
+cheeses one by one to a spring-cart and horse tethered outside the
+gate—her grandmother, though not a regular dairywoman, still managing a
+few cows by means of a man and maid.  With the lightness of a cat Jim
+crept round to the gate, took a piece of chalk from his pocket, and wrote
+upon the boarding ‘The Baron.’  Then he retreated to the other side of
+the garden where he had just watched Margery.
+
+In due time she emerged with another little cheese, came on to the
+garden-door, and glanced upon the chalked words which confronted her.
+She started; the cheese rolled from her arms to the ground, and broke
+into pieces like a pudding.
+
+She looked fearfully round, her face burning like sunset, and, seeing
+nobody, stooped to pick up the flaccid lumps.  Jim, with a pale face,
+departed as invisibly as he had come.  He had proved the bandsman’s tale
+to be true.  On his way back he formed a resolution.  It was to beard the
+lion in his den—to call on the Baron.
+
+Meanwhile Margery had recovered her equanimity, and gathered up the
+broken cheese.  But she could by no means account for the handwriting.
+Jim was just the sort of fellow to play her such a trick at ordinary
+times, but she imagined him to be far too incensed against her to do it
+now; and she suddenly wondered if it were any sort of signal from the
+Baron himself.
+
+Of him she had lately heard nothing.  If ever monotony pervaded a life it
+pervaded hers at Rook’s Gate; and she had begun to despair of any happy
+change.  But it is precisely when the social atmosphere seems stagnant
+that great events are brewing.  Margery’s quiet was broken first, as we
+have seen, by a slight start, only sufficient to make her drop a cheese;
+and then by a more serious matter.
+
+She was inside the same garden one day when she heard two watermen
+talking without.  The conversation was to the effect that the strange
+gentleman who had taken Mount Lodge for the season was seriously ill.
+
+‘How ill?’ cried Margery through the hedge, which screened her from
+recognition.
+
+‘Bad abed,’ said one of the watermen.
+
+‘Inflammation of the lungs,’ said the other.
+
+‘Got wet, fishing,’ the first chimed in.
+
+Margery could gather no more.  An ideal admiration rather than any
+positive passion existed in her breast for the Baron: she had of late
+seen too little of him to allow any incipient views of him as a lover to
+grow to formidable dimensions.  It was an extremely romantic feeling,
+delicate as an aroma, capable of quickening to an active principle, or
+dying to ‘a painless sympathy,’ as the case might be.
+
+This news of his illness, coupled with the mysterious chalking on the
+gate, troubled her, and revived his image much.  She took to walking up
+and down the garden-paths, looking into the hearts of flowers, and not
+thinking what they were.  His last request had been that she was not to
+go to him if be should send for her; and now she asked herself, was the
+name on the gate a hint to enable her to go without infringing the letter
+of her promise?  Thus unexpectedly had Jim’s manœuvre operated.
+
+Ten days passed.  All she could hear of the Baron were the same words,
+‘Bad abed,’ till one afternoon, after a gallop of the physician to the
+Lodge, the tidings spread like lightning that the Baron was dying.
+
+Margery distressed herself with the question whether she might be
+permitted to visit him and say her prayers at his bedside; but she feared
+to venture; and thus eight-and-forty hours slipped away, and the Baron
+still lived.  Despite her shyness and awe of him she had almost made up
+her mind to call when, just at dusk on that October evening, somebody
+came to the door and asked for her.
+
+She could see the messenger’s head against the low new moon.  He was a
+man-servant.  He said he had been all the way to her father’s, and had
+been sent thence to her here.  He simply brought a note, and, delivering
+it into her hands, went away.
+
+    DEAR MARGERY TUCKER (ran the note)—They say I am not likely to live,
+    so I want to see you.  Be here at eight o’clock this evening.  Come
+    quite alone to the side-door, and tap four times softly.  My trusty
+    man will admit you.  The occasion is an important one.  Prepare
+    yourself for a solemn ceremony, which I wish to have performed while
+    it lies in my power.
+
+                                                               VON XANTEN.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Margery’s face flushed up, and her neck and arms glowed in sympathy.  The
+quickness of youthful imagination, and the assumptiveness of woman’s
+reason, sent her straight as an arrow this thought: ‘He wants to marry
+me!’
+
+She had heard of similar strange proceedings, in which the orange-flower
+and the sad cypress were intertwined.  People sometimes wished on their
+death-beds, from motives of esteem, to form a legal tie which they had
+not cared to establish as a domestic one during their active life.
+
+For a few minutes Margery could hardly be called excited; she was
+excitement itself.  Between surprise and modesty she blushed and trembled
+by turns.  She became grave, sat down in the solitary room, and looked
+into the fire.  At seven o’clock she rose resolved, and went quite
+tranquilly upstairs, where she speedily began to dress.
+
+In making this hasty toilet nine-tenths of her care were given to her
+hands.  The summer had left them slightly brown, and she held them up and
+looked at them with some misgiving, the fourth finger of her left hand
+more especially.  Hot washings and cold washings, certain products from
+bee and flower known only to country girls, everything she could think
+of, were used upon those little sunburnt hands, till she persuaded
+herself that they were really as white as could be wished by a husband
+with a hundred titles.  Her dressing completed, she left word with Edy
+that she was going for a long walk, and set out in the direction of Mount
+Lodge.
+
+She no longer tripped like a girl, but walked like a woman.  While
+crossing the park she murmured ‘Baroness von Xanten’ in a pronunciation
+of her own.  The sound of that title caused her such agitation that she
+was obliged to pause, with her hand upon her heart.
+
+The house was so closely neighboured by shrubberies on three of its sides
+that it was not till she had gone nearly round it that she found the
+little door.  The resolution she had been an hour in forming failed her
+when she stood at the portal.  While pausing for courage to tap, a
+carriage drove up to the front entrance a little way off, and peeping
+round the corner she saw alight a clergyman, and a gentleman in whom
+Margery fancied that she recognized a well-known solicitor from the
+neighbouring town.  She had no longer any doubt of the nature of the
+ceremony proposed.  ‘It is sudden but I must obey him!’ she murmured: and
+tapped four times.
+
+The door was opened so quickly that the servant must have been standing
+immediately inside.  She thought him the man who had driven them to the
+ball—the silent man who could be trusted.  Without a word he conducted
+her up the back staircase, and through a door at the top, into a wide
+corridor.  She was asked to wait in a little dressing-room, where there
+was a fire, and an old metal-framed looking-glass over the mantel-piece,
+in which she caught sight of herself.  A red spot burnt in each of her
+cheeks; the rest of her face was pale; and her eyes were like diamonds of
+the first water.
+
+Before she had been seated many minutes the man came back noiselessly,
+and she followed him to a door covered by a red and black curtain, which
+he lifted, and ushered her into a large chamber.  A screened light stood
+on a table before her, and on her left the hangings of a tall dark
+four-post bedstead obstructed her view of the centre of the room.
+Everything here seemed of such a magnificent type to her eyes that she
+felt confused, diminished to half her height, half her strength, half her
+prettiness.  The man who had conducted her retired at once, and some one
+came softly round the angle of the bed-curtains.  He held out his hand
+kindly—rather patronisingly: it was the solicitor whom she knew by sight.
+This gentleman led her forward, as if she had been a lamb rather than a
+woman, till the occupant of the bed was revealed.
+
+The Baron’s eyes were closed, and her entry had been so noiseless that he
+did not open them.  The pallor of his face nearly matched the white
+bed-linen, and his dark hair and heavy black moustache were like dashes
+of ink on a clean page.  Near him sat the parson and another gentleman,
+whom she afterwards learnt to be a London physician; and on the parson
+whispering a few words the Baron opened his eyes.  As soon as he saw her
+he smiled faintly, and held out his hand.
+
+Margery would have wept for him, if she had not been too overawed and
+palpitating to do anything.  She quite forgot what she had come for,
+shook hands with him mechanically, and could hardly return an answer to
+his weak ‘Dear Margery, you see how I am—how are you?’
+
+In preparing for marriage she had not calculated on such a scene as this.
+Her affection for the Baron had too much of the vague in it to afford her
+trustfulness now.  She wished she had not come.  On a sign from the Baron
+the lawyer brought her a chair, and the oppressive silence was broken by
+the Baron’s words.
+
+‘I am pulled down to death’s door, Margery,’ he said; ‘and I suppose I
+soon shall pass through . . . My peace has been much disturbed in this
+illness, for just before it attacked me I received—that present you
+returned, from which, and in other ways, I learnt that you had lost your
+chance of marriage . . . Now it was I who did the harm, and you can
+imagine how the news has affected me.  It has worried me all the illness
+through, and I cannot dismiss my error from my mind . . . I want to right
+the wrong I have done you before I die.  Margery, you have always obeyed
+me, and, strange as the request may be, will you obey me now?’
+
+She whispered ‘Yes.’
+
+‘Well, then,’ said the Baron, ‘these three gentlemen are here for a
+special purpose: one helps the body—he’s called a physician; another
+helps the soul—he’s a parson; the other helps the understanding—he’s a
+lawyer.  They are here partly on my account, and partly on yours.’
+
+The speaker then made a sign to the lawyer, who went out of the door.  He
+came back almost instantly, but not alone.  Behind him, dressed up in his
+best clothes, with a flower in his buttonhole and a bridegroom’s air,
+walked—Jim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Margery could hardly repress a scream.  As for flushing and blushing, she
+had turned hot and turned pale so many times already during the evening,
+that there was really now nothing of that sort left for her to do; and
+she remained in complexion much as before.  O, the mockery of it!  That
+secret dream—that sweet word ‘Baroness!’—which had sustained her all the
+way along.  Instead of a Baron there stood Jim, white-waistcoated,
+demure, every hair in place, and, if she mistook not, even a deedy spark
+in his eye.
+
+Jim’s surprising presence on the scene may be briefly accounted for.  His
+resolve to seek an explanation with the Baron at all risks had proved
+unexpectedly easy: the interview had at once been granted, and then,
+seeing the crisis at which matters stood, the Baron had generously
+revealed to Jim the whole of his indebtedness to and knowledge of
+Margery.  The truth of the Baron’s statement, the innocent nature as yet
+of the acquaintanceship, his sorrow for the rupture he had produced, was
+so evident that, far from having any further doubts of his patron, Jim
+frankly asked his advice on the next step to be pursued.  At this stage
+the Baron fell ill, and, desiring much to see the two young people united
+before his death, he had sent anew Hayward, and proposed the plan which
+they were to now about to attempt—a marriage at the bedside of the sick
+man by special licence.  The influence at Lambeth of some friends of the
+Baron’s, and the charitable bequests of his late mother to several
+deserving Church funds, were generally supposed to be among the reasons
+why the application for the licence was not refused.
+
+This, however, is of small consequence.  The Baron probably knew, in
+proposing this method of celebrating the marriage, that his enormous
+power over her would outweigh any sentimental obstacles which she might
+set up—inward objections that, without his presence and firmness, might
+prove too much for her acquiescence.  Doubtless he foresaw, too, the
+advantage of getting her into the house before making the individuality
+of her husband clear to her mind.
+
+Now, the Baron’s conjectures were right as to the event, but wrong as to
+the motives.  Margery was a perfect little dissembler on some occasions,
+and one of them was when she wished to hide any sudden mortification that
+might bring her into ridicule.  She had no sooner recovered from her
+first fit of discomfiture than pride bade her suffer anything rather than
+reveal her absurd disappointment.  Hence the scene progressed as follows:
+
+‘Come here, Hayward,’ said the invalid.  Hayward came near.  The Baron,
+holding her hand in one of his own, and her lover’s in the other,
+continued, ‘Will you, in spite of your recent vexation with her, marry
+her now if she does not refuse?’
+
+‘I will, sir,’ said Jim promptly.
+
+‘And Margery, what do you say?  It is merely a setting of things right.
+You have already promised this young man to be his wife, and should, of
+course, perform your promise.  You don’t dislike Jim?’
+
+‘O, no, sir,’ she said, in a low, dry voice.
+
+‘I like him better than I can tell you,’ said the Baron.  ‘He is an
+honourable man, and will make you a good husband.  You must remember that
+marriage is a life contract, in which general compatibility of temper and
+worldly position is of more importance than fleeting passion, which never
+long survives.  Now, will you, at my earnest request, and before I go to
+the South of Europe to die, agree to make this good man happy?  I have
+expressed your views on the subject, haven’t I, Hayward?’
+
+‘To a T, sir,’ said Jim emphatically; with a motion of raising his hat to
+his influential ally, till he remembered he had no hat on.  ‘And, though
+I could hardly expect Margery to gie in for my asking, I feels she ought
+to gie in for yours.’
+
+‘And you accept him, my little friend?’
+
+‘Yes, sir,’ she murmured, ‘if he’ll agree to a thing or two.’
+
+‘Doubtless he will—what are they?’
+
+‘That I shall not be made to live with him till I am in the mind for it;
+and that my having him shall be kept unknown for the present.’
+
+‘Well, what do you think of it, Hayward?’
+
+‘Anything that you or she may wish I’ll do, my noble lord,’ said Jim.
+
+‘Well, her request is not unreasonable, seeing that the proceedings are,
+on my account, a little hurried.  So we’ll proceed.  You rather expected
+this, from my allusion to a ceremony in my note, did you not, Margery?’
+
+‘Yes, sir,’ said she, with an effort.
+
+‘Good; I thought so; you looked so little surprised.’
+
+We now leave the scene in the bedroom for a spot not many yards off.
+
+When the carriage seen by Margery at the door was driving up to Mount
+Lodge it arrested the attention, not only of the young girl, but of a man
+who had for some time been moving slowly about the opposite lawn, engaged
+in some operation while he smoked a short pipe.  A short observation of
+his doings would have shown that he was sheltering some delicate plants
+from an expected frost, and that he was the gardener.  When the light at
+the door fell upon the entering forms of parson and lawyer—the former a
+stranger, the latter known to him—the gardener walked thoughtfully round
+the house.  Reaching the small side-entrance he was further surprised to
+see it noiselessly open to a young woman, in whose momentarily illumined
+features he discerned those of Margery Tucker.
+
+Altogether there was something curious in this.  The man returned to the
+lawn front, and perfunctorily went on putting shelters over certain
+plants, though his thoughts were plainly otherwise engaged.  On the grass
+his footsteps were noiseless, and the night moreover being still, he
+could presently hear a murmuring from the bedroom window over his head.
+
+The gardener took from a tree a ladder that he had used in nailing that
+day, set it under the window, and ascended half-way, hoodwinking his
+conscience by seizing a nail or two with his hand and testing their
+twig-supporting powers.  He soon heard enough to satisfy him.  The words
+of a church-service in the strange parson’s voice were audible in
+snatches through the blind: they were words he knew to be part of the
+solemnization of matrimony, such as ‘wedded wife,’ ‘richer for poorer,’
+and so on; the less familiar parts being a more or less confused sound.
+
+Satisfied that a wedding was in progress there, the gardener did not for
+a moment dream that one of the contracting parties could be other than
+the sick Baron.  He descended the ladder and again walked round the
+house, waiting only till he saw Margery emerge from the same little door;
+when, fearing that he might be discovered, he withdrew in the direction
+of his own cottage.
+
+This building stood at the lower corner of the garden, and as soon as the
+gardener entered he was accosted by a handsome woman in a widow’s cap,
+who called him father, and said that supper had been ready for a long
+time.  They sat down, but during the meal the gardener was so abstracted
+and silent that his daughter put her head winningly to one side and said,
+‘What is it, father dear?’
+
+‘Ah—what is it!’ cried the gardener.  ‘Something that makes very little
+difference to me, but may be of great account to you, if you play your
+cards well.  _There’s been a wedding at the Lodge to-night_!’  He related
+to her, with a caution to secrecy, all that he had heard and seen.
+
+‘We are folk that have got to get their living,’ he said, ‘and such ones
+mustn’t tell tales about their betters,—Lord forgive the mockery of the
+word!—but there’s something to be made of it.  She’s a nice maid; so,
+Harriet, do you take the first chance you get for honouring her, before
+others know what has happened.  Since this is done so privately it will
+be kept private for some time—till after his death, no question;—when I
+expect she’ll take this house for herself; and blaze out as a widow-lady
+ten thousand pound strong.  You being a widow, she may make you her
+company-keeper; and so you’ll have a home by a little contriving.’
+
+While this conversation progressed at the gardener’s Margery was on her
+way out of the Baron’s house.  She was, indeed, married.  But, as we
+know, she was not married to the Baron.  The ceremony over she seemed but
+little discomposed, and expressed a wish to return alone as she had come.
+To this, of course, no objection could be offered under the terms of the
+agreement, and wishing Jim a frigid good-bye, and the Baron a very quiet
+farewell, she went out by the door which had admitted her.  Once safe and
+alone in the darkness of the park she burst into tears, which dropped
+upon the grass as she passed along.  In the Baron’s room she had seemed
+scared and helpless; now her reason and emotions returned.  The further
+she got away from the glamour of that room, and the influence of its
+occupant, the more she became of opinion that she had acted foolishly.
+She had disobediently left her father’s house, to obey him here.  She had
+pleased everybody but herself.
+
+However, thinking was now too late.  How she got into her grandmother’s
+house she hardly knew; but without a supper, and without confronting
+either her relative or Edy, she went to bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+On going out into the garden next morning, with a strange sense of being
+another person than herself, she beheld Jim leaning mutely over the gate.
+
+He nodded.  ‘Good morning, Margery,’ he said civilly.
+
+‘Good morning,’ said Margery in the same tone.
+
+‘I beg your pardon,’ he continued.  ‘But which way was you going this
+morning?’
+
+‘I am not going anywhere just now, thank you.  But I shall go to my
+father’s by-and-by with Edy.’  She went on with a sigh, ‘I have done what
+he has all along wished, that is, married you; and there’s no longer
+reason for enmity atween him and me.’
+
+‘Trew—trew.  Well, as I am going the same way, I can give you a lift in
+the trap, for the distance is long.’
+
+‘No thank you—I am used to walking,’ she said.
+
+They remained in silence, the gate between them, till Jim’s convictions
+would apparently allow him to hold his peace no longer.  ‘This is a bad
+job!’ he murmured.
+
+‘It is,’ she said, as one whose thoughts have only too readily been
+identified.  ‘How I came to agree to it is more than I can tell!’  And
+tears began rolling down her cheeks.
+
+‘The blame is more mine than yours, I suppose,’ he returned.  ‘I ought to
+have said No, and not backed up the gentleman in carrying out this
+scheme.  ’Twas his own notion entirely, as perhaps you know.  I should
+never have thought of such a plan; but he said you’d be willing, and that
+it would be all right; and I was too ready to believe him.’
+
+‘The thing is, how to remedy it,’ said she bitterly.  ‘I believe, of
+course, in your promise to keep this private, and not to trouble me by
+calling.’
+
+‘Certainly,’ said Jim.  ‘I don’t want to trouble you.  As for that, why,
+my dear Mrs. Hayward—’
+
+‘Don’t Mrs. Hayward me!’ said Margery sharply.  ‘I won’t be Mrs.
+Hayward!’
+
+Jim paused.  ‘Well, you are she by law, and that was all I meant,’ he
+said mildly.
+
+‘I said I would acknowledge no such thing, and I won’t.  A thing can’t be
+legal when it’s against the wishes of the persons the laws are made to
+protect.  So I beg you not to call me that anymore.’
+
+‘Very well, Miss Tucker,’ said Jim deferentially.  ‘We can live on
+exactly as before.  We can’t marry anybody else, that’s true; but beyond
+that there’s no difference, and no harm done.  Your father ought to be
+told, I suppose, even if nobody else is?  It will partly reconcile him to
+you, and make your life smoother.’
+
+Instead of directly replying, Margery exclaimed in a low voice:
+
+‘O, it is a mistake—I didn’t see it all, owing to not having time to
+reflect!  I agreed, thinking that at least I should get reconciled to
+father by the step.  But perhaps he would as soon have me not married at
+all as married and parted.  I must ha’ been enchanted—bewitched—when I
+gave my consent to this!  I only did it to please that dear good dying
+nobleman—though why he should have wished it so much I can’t tell!’
+
+‘Nor I neither,’ said Jim.  ‘Yes, we’ve been fooled into it, Margery,’ he
+said, with extraordinary gravity.  ‘He’s had his way wi’ us, and now
+we’ve got to suffer for it.  Being a gentleman of patronage, and having
+bought several loads of lime o’ me, and having given me all that splendid
+furniture, I could hardly refuse—’
+
+‘What, did he give you that?’
+
+‘Ay sure—to help me win ye.’
+
+Margery covered her face with her hands; whereupon Jim stood up from the
+gate and looked critically at her.  ‘’Tis a footy plot between you two
+men to—snare me!’ she exclaimed.  ‘Why should you have done it—why should
+he have done it—when I’ve not deserved to be treated so.  He bought the
+furniture—did he!  O, I’ve been taken in—I’ve been wronged!’  The grief
+and vexation of finding that long ago, when fondly believing the Baron to
+have lover-like feelings himself for her, he was still conspiring to
+favour Jim’s suit, was more than she could endure.
+
+Jim with distant courtesy waited, nibbling a straw, till her paroxysm was
+over.  ‘One word, Miss Tuck—Mrs.—Margery,’ he then recommenced gravely.
+‘You’ll find me man enough to respect your wish, and to leave you to
+yourself—for ever and ever, if that’s all.  But I’ve just one word of
+advice to render ’ee.  That is, that before you go to Silverthorn Dairy
+yourself you let me drive ahead and call on your father.  He’s friends
+with me, and he’s not friends with you.  I can break the news, a little
+at a time, and I think I can gain his good will for you now, even though
+the wedding be no natural wedding at all.  At any count, I can hear what
+he’s got to say about ’ee, and come back here and tell ’ee.’
+
+She nodded a cool assent to this, and he left her strolling about the
+garden in the sunlight while he went on to reconnoitre as agreed.  It
+must not be supposed that Jim’s dutiful echoes of Margery’s regret at her
+precipitate marriage were all gospel; and there is no doubt that his
+private intention, after telling the dairy-farmer what had happened, was
+to ask his temporary assent to her caprice, till, in the course of time,
+she should be reasoned out of her whims and induced to settle down with
+Jim in a natural manner.  He had, it is true, been somewhat nettled by
+her firm objection to him, and her keen sorrow for what she had done to
+please another; but he hoped for the best.
+
+But, alas for the astute Jim’s calculations!  He drove on to the dairy,
+whose white walls now gleamed in the morning sun; made fast the horse to
+a ring in the wall, and entered the barton.  Before knocking, he
+perceived the dairyman walking across from a gate in the other direction,
+as if he had just come in.  Jim went over to him.  Since the unfortunate
+incident on the morning of the intended wedding they had merely been on
+nodding terms, from a sense of awkwardness in their relations.
+
+‘What—is that thee?’ said Dairyman Tucker, in a voice which unmistakably
+startled Jim by its abrupt fierceness.  ‘A pretty fellow thou be’st!’
+
+It was a bad beginning for the young man’s life as a son-in-law, and
+augured ill for the delicate consultation he desired.
+
+‘What’s the matter?’ said Jim.
+
+‘Matter!  I wish some folks would burn their lime without burning other
+folks’ property along wi’ it.  You ought to be ashamed of yourself.  You
+call yourself a man, Jim Hayward, and an honest lime-burner, and a
+respectable, market-keeping Christen, and yet at six o’clock this
+morning, instead o’ being where you ought to ha’ been—at your work, there
+was neither vell or mark o’ thee to be seen!’
+
+‘Faith, I don’t know what you are raving at,’ said Jim.
+
+‘Why—the sparks from thy couch-heap blew over upon my hay-rick, and the
+rick’s burnt to ashes; and all to come out o’ my well-squeezed pocket.
+I’ll tell thee what it is, young man.  There’s no business in thee.  I’ve
+known Silverthorn folk, quick and dead, for the last couple-o’-score
+year, and I’ve never knew one so three-cunning for harm as thee, my
+gentleman lime-burner; and I reckon it one o’ the luckiest days o’ my
+life when I ’scaped having thee in my family.  That maid of mine was
+right; I was wrong.  She seed thee to be a drawlacheting rogue, and ’twas
+her wisdom to go off that morning and get rid o’ thee.  I commend her
+for’t, and I’m going to fetch her home to-morrow.’
+
+‘You needn’t take the trouble.  She’s coming home-along to-night of her
+own accord.  I have seen her this morning, and she told me so.’
+
+‘So much the better.  I’ll welcome her warm.  Nation!  I’d sooner see her
+married to the parish fool than thee.  Not you—you don’t care for my hay.
+Tarrying about where you shouldn’t be, in bed, no doubt; that’s what you
+was a-doing.  Now, don’t you darken my doors again, and the sooner you be
+off my bit o’ ground the better I shall be pleased.’
+
+Jim looked, as he felt, stultified.  If the rick had been really
+destroyed, a little blame certainly attached to him, but he could not
+understand how it had happened.  However, blame or none, it was clear he
+could not, with any self-respect, declare himself to be this peppery old
+gaffer’s son-in-law in the face of such an attack as this.
+
+For months—almost years—the one transaction that had seemed necessary to
+compose these two families satisfactorily was Jim’s union with Margery.
+No sooner had it been completed than it appeared on all sides as the
+gravest mishap for both.  Stating coldly that he would discover how much
+of the accident was to be attributed to his negligence, and pay the
+damage, he went out of the barton, and returned the way he had come.
+
+Margery had been keeping a look-out for him, particularly wishing him not
+to enter the house, lest others should see the seriousness of their
+interview; and as soon as she heard wheels she went to the gate, which
+was out of view.
+
+‘Surely father has been speaking roughly to you!’ she said, on seeing his
+face.
+
+‘Not the least doubt that he have,’ said Jim.
+
+‘But is he still angry with me?’
+
+‘Not in the least.  He’s waiting to welcome ’ee.’
+
+‘Ah! because I’ve married you.’
+
+‘Because he thinks you have not married me!  He’s jawed me up hill and
+down.  He hates me; and for your sake I have not explained a word.’
+
+Margery looked towards home with a sad, severe gaze.  ‘Mr. Hayward,’ she
+said, ‘we have made a great mistake, and we are in a strange position.’
+
+‘True, but I’ll tell you what, mistress—I won’t stand—’  He stopped
+suddenly.  ‘Well, well; I’ve promised!’ he quietly added.
+
+‘We must suffer for our mistake,’ she went on.  ‘The way to suffer least
+is to keep our own counsel on what happened last evening, and not to
+meet.  I must now return to my father.’
+
+He inclined his head in indifferent assent, and she went indoors, leaving
+him there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Margery returned home, as she had decided, and resumed her old life at
+Silverthorn.  And seeing her father’s animosity towards Jim, she told him
+not a word of the marriage.
+
+Her inner life, however, was not what it once had been.  She had suffered
+a mental and emotional displacement—a shock, which had set a shade of
+astonishment on her face as a permanent thing.
+
+Her indignation with the Baron for collusion with Jim, at first bitter,
+lessened with the lapse of a few weeks, and at length vanished in the
+interest of some tidings she received one day.
+
+The Baron was not dead, but he was no longer at the Lodge.  To the
+surprise of the physicians, a sufficient improvement had taken place in
+his condition to permit of his removal before the cold weather came.  His
+desire for removal had been such, indeed, that it was advisable to carry
+it out at almost any risk.  The plan adopted had been to have him borne
+on men’s shoulders in a sort of palanquin to the shore near Idmouth, a
+distance of several miles, where a yacht lay awaiting him.  By this means
+the noise and jolting of a carriage, along irregular bye-roads, were
+avoided.  The singular procession over the fields took place at night,
+and was witnessed by but few people, one being a labouring man, who
+described the scene to Margery.  When the seaside was reached a long,
+narrow gangway was laid from the deck of the yacht to the shore, which
+was so steep as to allow the yacht to lie quite near.  The men, with
+their burden, ascended by the light of lanterns, the sick man was laid in
+the cabin, and, as soon as his bearers had returned to the shore, the
+gangway was removed, a rope was heard skirring over wood in the darkness,
+the yacht quivered, spread her woven wings to the air, and moved away.
+Soon she was but a small, shapeless phantom upon the wide breast of the
+sea.
+
+It was said that the yacht was bound for Algiers.
+
+When the inimical autumn and winter weather came on, Margery wondered if
+he were still alive.  The house being shut up, and the servants gone, she
+had no means of knowing, till, on a particular Saturday, her father drove
+her to Exonbury market.  Here, in attending to his business, he left her
+to herself for awhile.  Walking in a quiet street in the professional
+quarter of the town, she saw coming towards her the solicitor who had
+been present at the wedding, and who had acted for the Baron in various
+small local matters during his brief residence at the Lodge.
+
+She reddened to peony hues, averted her eyes, and would have passed him.
+But he crossed over and barred the pavement, and when she met his glance
+he was looking with friendly severity at her.  The street was quiet, and
+he said in a low voice, ‘How’s the husband?’
+
+‘I don’t know, sir,’ said she.
+
+‘What—and are your stipulations about secrecy and separate living still
+in force?’
+
+‘They will always be,’ she replied decisively.  ‘Mr. Hayward and I agreed
+on the point, and we have not the slightest wish to change the
+arrangement.’
+
+‘H’m.  Then ’tis Miss Tucker to the world; Mrs. Hayward to me and one or
+two others only?’
+
+Margery nodded.  Then she nerved herself by an effort, and, though
+blushing painfully, asked, ‘May I put one question, sir?  Is the Baron
+dead?’
+
+‘He is dead to you and to all of us.  Why should you ask?’
+
+‘Because, if he’s alive, I am sorry I married James Hayward.  If he is
+dead I do not much mind my marriage.’
+
+‘I repeat, he is dead to you,’ said the lawyer emphatically.  ‘I’ll tell
+you all I know.  My professional services for him ended with his
+departure from this country; but I think I should have heard from him if
+he had been alive still.  I have not heard at all: and this, taken in
+connection with the nature of his illness, leaves no doubt in my mind
+that he is dead.’
+
+Margery sighed, and thanking the lawyer she left him with a tear for the
+Baron in her eye.  After this incident she became more restful; and the
+time drew on for her periodical visit to her grandmother.
+
+A few days subsequent to her arrival her aged relative asked her to go
+with a message to the gardener at Mount Lodge (who still lived on there,
+keeping the grounds in order for the landlord).  Margery hated that
+direction now, but she went.  The Lodge, which she saw over the trees,
+was to her like a skull from which the warm and living flesh had
+vanished.  It was twilight by the time she reached the cottage at the
+bottom of the Lodge garden, and, the room being illuminated within, she
+saw through the window a woman she had never seen before.  She was dark,
+and rather handsome, and when Margery knocked she opened the door.  It
+was the gardener’s widowed daughter, who had been advised to make friends
+with Margery.
+
+She now found her opportunity.  Margery’s errand was soon completed, the
+young widow, to her surprise, treating her with preternatural respect,
+and afterwards offering to accompany her home.  Margery was not sorry to
+have a companion in the gloom, and they walked on together.  The widow,
+Mrs. Peach, was demonstrative and confidential; and told Margery all
+about herself.  She had come quite recently to live with her
+father—during the Baron’s illness, in fact—and her husband had been
+captain of a ketch.
+
+‘I saw you one morning, ma’am,’ she said.  ‘But you didn’t see me.  It
+was when you were crossing the hill in sight of the Lodge.  You looked at
+it, and sighed.  ’Tis the lot of widows to sigh, ma’am, is it not?’
+
+‘Widows—yes, I suppose; but what do you mean?’
+
+Mrs. Peach lowered her voice.  ‘I can’t say more, ma’am, with proper
+respect.  But there seems to be no question of the poor Baron’s death;
+and though these foreign princes can take (as my poor husband used to
+tell me) what they call left-handed wives, and leave them behind when
+they go abroad, widowhood is widowhood, left-handed or right.  And
+really, to be the left-handed wife of a foreign baron is nobler than to
+be married all round to a common man.  You’ll excuse my freedom, ma’am;
+but being a widow myself, I have pitied you from my heart; so young as
+you are, and having to keep it a secret, and (excusing me) having no
+money out of his vast riches because ’tis swallowed up by Baroness Number
+One.’
+
+Now Margery did not understand a word more of this than the bare fact
+that Mrs. Peach suspected her to be the Baron’s undowered widow, and such
+was the milkmaid’s nature that she did not deny the widow’s impeachment.
+The latter continued—
+
+‘But ah, ma’am, all your troubles are straight backward in your
+memory—while I have troubles before as well as grief behind.’
+
+‘What may they be, Mrs. Peach?’ inquired Margery with an air of the
+Baroness.
+
+The other dropped her voice to revelation tones: ‘I have been forgetful
+enough of my first man to lose my heart to a second!’
+
+‘You shouldn’t do that—it is wrong.  You should control your feelings.’
+
+‘But how am I to control my feelings?’
+
+‘By going to your dead husband’s grave, and things of that sort.’
+
+‘Do you go to your dead husband’s grave?’
+
+‘How can I go to Algiers?’
+
+‘Ah—too true!  Well, I’ve tried everything to cure myself—read the words
+against it, gone to the Table the first Sunday of every month, and all
+sorts.  But, avast, my shipmate!—as my poor man used to say—there ’tis
+just the same.  In short, I’ve made up my mind to encourage the new one.
+’Tis flattering that I, a new-comer, should have been found out by a
+young man so soon.’
+
+‘Who is he?’ said Margery listlessly.
+
+‘A master lime-burner.’
+
+‘A master lime-burner?’
+
+‘That’s his profession.  He’s a partner-in-co., doing very well indeed.’
+
+‘But what’s his name?’
+
+‘I don’t like to tell you his name, for, though ’tis night, that covers
+all shame-facedness, my face is as hot as a ’Talian iron, I declare!  Do
+you just feel it.’
+
+Margery put her hand on Mrs. Peach’s face, and, sure enough, hot it was.
+‘Does he come courting?’ she asked quickly.
+
+‘Well only in the way of business.  He never comes unless lime is wanted
+in the neighbourhood.  He’s in the Yeomanry, too, and will look very fine
+when he comes out in regimentals for drill in May.’
+
+‘Oh—in the Yeomanry,’ Margery said, with a slight relief.  ‘Then it
+can’t—is he a young man?’
+
+‘Yes, junior partner-in-co.’
+
+The description had an odd resemblance to Jim, of whom Margery had not
+heard a word for months.  He had promised silence and absence, and had
+fulfilled his promise literally, with a gratuitous addition that was
+rather amazing, if indeed it were Jim whom the widow loved.  One point in
+the description puzzled Margery: Jim was not in the Yeomanry, unless, by
+a surprising development of enterprise, he had entered it recently.
+
+At parting Margery said, with an interest quite tender, ‘I should like to
+see you again, Mrs. Peach, and hear of your attachment.  When can you
+call?’
+
+‘Oh—any time, dear Baroness, I’m sure—if you think I am good enough.’
+
+‘Indeed, I do, Mrs. Peach.  Come as soon as you’ve seen the lime-burner
+again.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Seeing that Jim lived several miles from the widow, Margery was rather
+surprised, and even felt a slight sinking of the heart, when her new
+acquaintance appeared at her door so soon as the evening of the following
+Monday.  She asked Margery to walk out with her, which the young woman
+readily did.
+
+‘I am come at once,’ said the widow breathlessly, as soon as they were in
+the lane, ‘for it is so exciting that I can’t keep it.  I must tell it to
+somebody, if only a bird, or a cat, or a garden snail.’
+
+‘What is it?’ asked her companion.
+
+‘I’ve pulled grass from my husband’s grave to cure it—wove the blades
+into true lover’s knots; took off my shoes upon the sod; but, avast, my
+shipmate,—’
+
+‘Upon the sod—why?’
+
+‘To feel the damp earth he’s in, and make the sense of it enter my soul.
+But no.  It has swelled to a head; he is going to meet me at the Yeomanry
+Review.’
+
+‘The master lime-burner?’
+
+The widow nodded.
+
+‘When is it to be?’
+
+‘To-morrow.  He looks so lovely in his accoutrements!  He’s such a
+splendid soldier; that was the last straw that kindled my soul to say
+yes.  He’s home from Exonbury for a night between the drills,’ continued
+Mrs. Peach.  ‘He goes back to-morrow morning for the Review, and when
+it’s over he’s going to meet me.  But, guide my heart, there he is!’
+
+Her exclamation had rise in the sudden appearance of a brilliant red
+uniform through the trees, and the tramp of a horse carrying the wearer
+thereof.  In another half-minute the military gentleman would have turned
+the corner, and faced them.
+
+‘He’d better not see me; he’ll think I know too much,’ said Margery
+precipitately.  ‘I’ll go up here.’
+
+The widow, whose thoughts had been of the same cast, seemed much relieved
+to see Margery disappear in the plantation, in the midst of a spring
+chorus of birds.  Once among the trees, Margery turned her head, and,
+before she could see the rider’s person she recognized the horse as Tony,
+the lightest of three that Jim and his partner owned, for the purpose of
+carting out lime to their customers.
+
+Jim, then, had joined the Yeomanry since his estrangement from Margery.
+A man who had worn the young Queen Victoria’s uniform for seven days only
+could not be expected to look as if it were part of his person, in the
+manner of long-trained soldiers; but he was a well-formed young fellow,
+and of an age when few positions came amiss to one who has the capacity
+to adapt himself to circumstances.
+
+Meeting the blushing Mrs. Peach (to whom Margery in her mind sternly
+denied the right to blush at all), Jim alighted and moved on with her,
+probably at Mrs. Peach’s own suggestion; so that what they said, how long
+they remained together, and how they parted, Margery knew not.  She might
+have known some of these things by waiting; but the presence of Jim had
+bred in her heart a sudden disgust for the widow, and a general sense of
+discomfiture.  She went away in an opposite direction, turning her head
+and saying to the unconscious Jim, ‘There’s a fine rod in pickle for you,
+my gentleman, if you carry out that pretty scheme!’
+
+Jim’s military _coup_ had decidedly astonished her.   What he might do
+next she could not conjecture.  The idea of his doing anything
+sufficiently brilliant to arrest her attention would have seemed
+ludicrous, had not Jim, by entering the Yeomanry, revealed a capacity for
+dazzling exploits which made it unsafe to predict any limitation to his
+powers.
+
+Margery was now excited.  The daring of the wretched Jim in bursting into
+scarlet amazed her as much as his doubtful acquaintanceship with the
+demonstrative Mrs. Peach.  To go to that Review, to watch the pair, to
+eclipse Mrs. Peach in brilliancy, to meet and pass them in withering
+contempt—if she only could do it!  But, alas! she was a forsaken woman.
+
+‘If the Baron were alive, or in England,’ she said to herself (for
+sometimes she thought he might possibly be alive), ‘and he were to take
+me to this Review, wouldn’t I show that forward Mrs. Peach what a lady is
+like, and keep among the select company, and not mix with the common
+people at all!’
+
+It might at first sight be thought that the best course for Margery at
+this juncture would have been to go to Jim, and nip the intrigue in the
+bud without further scruple.  But her own declaration in after days was
+that whoever could say that was far from realizing her situation.  It was
+hard to break such ice as divided their two lives now, and to attempt it
+at that moment was a too humiliating proclamation of defeat.  The only
+plan she could think of—perhaps not a wise one in the circumstances—was
+to go to the Review herself; and be the gayest there.
+
+A method of doing this with some propriety soon occurred to her.  She
+dared not ask her father, who scorned to waste time in sight-seeing, and
+whose animosity towards Jim knew no abatement; but she might call on her
+old acquaintance, Mr. Vine, Jim’s partner, who would probably be going
+with the rest of the holiday-folk, and ask if she might accompany him in
+his spring-trap.  She had no sooner perceived the feasibility of this,
+through her being at her grandmother’s, than she decided to meet with the
+old man early the next morning.
+
+In the meantime Jim and Mrs. Peach had walked slowly along the road
+together, Jim leading the horse, and Mrs. Peach informing him that her
+father, the gardener, was at Jim’s village further on, and that she had
+come to meet him.  Jim, for reasons of his own, was going to sleep at his
+partner’s that night, and thus their route was the same.  The shades of
+eve closed in upon them as they walked, and by the time they reached the
+lime-kiln, which it was necessary to pass to get to the village, it was
+quite dark.  Jim stopped at the kiln, to see if matters had progressed
+rightly in his seven days’ absence, and Mrs. Peach, who stuck to him like
+a teazle, stopped also, saying she would wait for her father there.
+
+She held the horse while he ascended to the top of the kiln.  Then
+rejoining her, and not quite knowing what to do, he stood beside her
+looking at the flames, which to-night burnt up brightly, shining a long
+way into the dark air, even up to the ramparts of the earthwork above
+them, and overhead into the bosoms of the clouds.
+
+It was during this proceeding that a carriage, drawn by a pair of dark
+horses, came along the turnpike road.  The light of the kiln caused the
+horses to swerve a little, and the occupant of the carriage looked out.
+He saw the bluish, lightning-like flames from the limestone, rising from
+the top of the furnace, and hard by the figures of Jim Hayward, the
+widow, and the horse, standing out with spectral distinctness against the
+mass of night behind.  The scene wore the aspect of some unholy
+assignation in Pandaemonium, and it was all the more impressive from the
+fact that both Jim and the woman were quite unconscious of the striking
+spectacle they presented.  The gentleman in the carriage watched them
+till he was borne out of sight.
+
+Having seen to the kiln, Jim and the widow walked on again, and soon Mrs.
+Peach’s father met them, and relieved Jim of the lady.  When they had
+parted, Jim, with an expiration not unlike a breath of relief; went on to
+Mr. Vine’s, and, having put the horse into the stable, entered the house.
+His partner was seated at the table, solacing himself after the labours
+of the day by luxurious alternations between a long clay pipe and a mug
+of perry.
+
+‘Well,’ said Jim eagerly, ‘what’s the news—how do she take it?’
+
+‘Sit down—sit down,’ said Vine.  ‘’Tis working well; not but that I
+deserve something o’ thee for the trouble I’ve had in watching her.  The
+soldiering was a fine move; but the woman is a better!—who invented it?’
+
+‘I myself,’ said Jim modestly.
+
+‘Well; jealousy is making her rise like a thunderstorm, and in a day or
+two you’ll have her for the asking, my sonny.  What’s the next step?’
+
+‘The widow is getting rather a weight upon a feller, worse luck,’ said
+Jim.  ‘But I must keep it up until to-morrow, at any rate.  I have
+promised to see her at the Review, and now the great thing is that
+Margery should see we a-smiling together—I in my full-dress uniform and
+clinking arms o’ war.  ’Twill be a good strong sting, and will end the
+business, I hope.  Couldn’t you manage to put the hoss in and drive her
+there?  She’d go if you were to ask her.’
+
+‘With all my heart,’ said Mr. Vine, moistening the end of a new pipe in
+his perry.  ‘I can call at her grammer’s for her—’twill be all in my
+way.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Margery duly followed up her intention by arraying herself the next
+morning in her loveliest guise, and keeping watch for Mr. Vine’s
+appearance upon the high road, feeling certain that his would form one in
+the procession of carts and carriages which set in towards Exonbury that
+day.  Jim had gone by at a very early hour, and she did not see him pass.
+Her anticipation was verified by the advent of Mr. Vine about eleven
+o’clock, dressed to his highest effort; but Margery was surprised to find
+that, instead of her having to stop him, he pulled in towards the gate of
+his own accord.  The invitation planned between Jim and the old man on
+the previous night was now promptly given, and, as may be supposed, as
+promptly accepted.  Such a strange coincidence she had never before
+known.  She was quite ready, and they drove onward at once.
+
+The Review was held on some high ground a little way out of the city, and
+her conductor suggested that they should put up the horse at the inn, and
+walk to the field—a plan which pleased her well, for it was more easy to
+take preliminary observations on foot without being seen herself than
+when sitting elevated in a vehicle.
+
+They were just in time to secure a good place near the front, and in a
+few minutes after their arrival the reviewing officer came on the ground.
+Margery’s eye had rapidly run over the troop in which Jim was enrolled,
+and she discerned him in one of the ranks, looking remarkably new and
+bright, both as to uniform and countenance.  Indeed, if she had not
+worked herself into such a desperate state of mind she would have felt
+proud of him then and there.  His shapely upright figure was quite
+noteworthy in the row of rotund yeomen on his right and left; while his
+charger Tony expressed by his bearing, even more than Jim, that he knew
+nothing about lime-carts whatever, and everything about trumpets and
+glory.  How Jim could have scrubbed Tony to such shining blackness she
+could not tell, for the horse in his natural state was ingrained with
+lime-dust, that burnt the colour out of his coat as it did out of Jim’s
+hair.  Now he pranced martially, and was a war-horse every inch of him.
+
+Having discovered Jim her next search was for Mrs. Peach, and, by dint of
+some oblique glancing Margery indignantly discovered the widow in the
+most forward place of all, her head and bright face conspicuously
+advanced; and, what was more shocking, she had abandoned her mourning for
+a violet drawn-bonnet and a gay spencer, together with a parasol
+luxuriously fringed in a way Margery had never before seen.  ‘Where did
+she get the money?’ said Margery, under her breath.  ‘And to forget that
+poor sailor so soon!’
+
+These general reflections were precipitately postponed by her discovering
+that Jim and the widow were perfectly alive to each other’s whereabouts,
+and in the interchange of telegraphic signs of affection, which on the
+latter’s part took the form of a playful fluttering of her handkerchief
+or waving of her parasol.  Richard Vine had placed Margery in front of
+him, to protect her from the crowd, as he said, he himself surveying the
+scene over her bonnet.  Margery would have been even more surprised than
+she was if she had known that Jim was not only aware of Mrs. Peach’s
+presence, but also of her own, the treacherous Mr. Vine having drawn out
+his flame-coloured handkerchief and waved it to Jim over the young
+woman’s head as soon as they had taken up their position.
+
+‘My partner makes a tidy soldier, eh—Miss Tucker?’ said the senior
+lime-burner.  ‘It is my belief as a Christian that he’s got a party here
+that he’s making signs to—that handsome figure o’ fun straight over-right
+him.’
+
+‘Perhaps so,’ she said.
+
+‘And it’s growing warm between ’em if I don’t mistake,’ continued the
+merciless Vine.
+
+Margery was silent, biting her lip; and the troops being now set in
+motion, all signalling ceased for the present between soldier Hayward and
+his pretended sweetheart.
+
+‘Have you a piece of paper that I could make a memorandum on, Mr. Vine?’
+asked Margery.
+
+Vine took out his pocket-book and tore a leaf from it, which he handed
+her with a pencil.
+
+‘Don’t move from here—I’ll return in a minute,’ she continued, with the
+innocence of a woman who means mischief.  And, withdrawing herself to the
+back, where the grass was clear, she pencilled down the words
+
+                             ‘JIM’S MARRIED.’
+
+Armed with this document she crept into the throng behind the
+unsuspecting Mrs. Peach, slipped the paper into her pocket on the top of
+her handkerchief; and withdrew unobserved, rejoining Mr. Vine with a
+bearing of _nonchalance_.
+
+By-and-by the troops were in different order, Jim taking a left-hand
+position almost close to Mrs. Peach.  He bent down and said a few words
+to her.  From her manner of nodding assent it was surely some arrangement
+about a meeting by-and-by when Jim’s drill was over, and Margery was more
+certain of the fact when, the Review having ended, and the people having
+strolled off to another part of the field where sports were to take
+place, Mrs. Peach tripped away in the direction of the city.
+
+‘I’ll just say a word to my partner afore he goes off the ground, if
+you’ll spare me a minute,’ said the old lime-burner.  ‘Please stay here
+till I’m back again.’  He edged along the front till he reached Jim.
+
+‘How is she?’ said the latter.
+
+‘In a trimming sweat,’ said Mr. Vine.  ‘And my counsel to ’ee is to carry
+this larry no further.  ’Twill do no good.  She’s as ready to make
+friends with ’ee as any wife can be; and more showing off can only do
+harm.’
+
+‘But I must finish off with a spurt,’ said Jim.  ‘And this is how I am
+going to do it.  I have arranged with Mrs. Peach that, as soon as we
+soldiers have entered the town and been dismissed, I’ll meet her there.
+It is really to say good-bye, but she don’t know that; and I wanted it to
+look like a lopement to Margery’s eyes.  When I’m clear of Mrs. Peach
+I’ll come back here and make it up with Margery on the spot.  But don’t
+say I’m coming, or she may be inclined to throw off again.  Just hint to
+her that I may be meaning to be off to London with the widow.’
+
+The old man still insisted that this was going too far.
+
+‘No, no, it isn’t,’ said Jim.  ‘I know how to manage her.  ’Twill just
+mellow her heart nicely by the time I come back.  I must bring her down
+real tender, or ’twill all fail.’
+
+His senior reluctantly gave in and returned to Margery.  A short time
+afterwards the Yeomanry hand struck up, and Jim with the regiment
+followed towards Exonbury.
+
+‘Yes, yes; they are going to meet,’ said Margery to herself, perceiving
+that Mrs. Peach had so timed her departure as to be in the town at Jim’s
+dismounting.
+
+‘Now we will go and see the games,’ said Mr. Vine; ‘they are really worth
+seeing.  There’s greasy poles, and jumping in sacks, and other trials of
+the intellect, that nobody ought to miss who wants to be abreast of his
+generation.’
+
+Margery felt so indignant at the apparent assignation, which seemed about
+to take place despite her anonymous writing, that she helplessly assented
+to go anywhere, dropping behind Vine, that he might not see her mood.
+
+Jim followed out his programme with literal exactness.  No sooner was the
+troop dismissed in the city than he sent Tony to stable and joined Mrs.
+Peach, who stood on the edge of the pavement expecting him.  But this
+acquaintance was to end: he meant to part from her for ever and in the
+quickest time, though civilly; for it was important to be with Margery as
+soon as possible.  He had nearly completed the manœuvre to his
+satisfaction when, in drawing her handkerchief from her pocket to wipe
+the tears from her eyes, Mrs. Peach’s hand grasped the paper, which she
+read at once.
+
+‘What! is that true?’ she said, holding it out to Jim.
+
+Jim started and admitted that it was, beginning an elaborate explanation
+and apologies.  But Mrs. Peach was thoroughly roused, and then overcome.
+‘He’s married, he’s married!’ she said, and swooned, or feigned to swoon,
+so that Jim was obliged to support her.
+
+‘He’s married, he’s married!’ said a boy hard by who watched the scene
+with interest.
+
+‘He’s married, he’s married!’ said a hilarious group of other boys near,
+with smiles several inches broad, and shining teeth; and so the
+exclamation echoed down the street.
+
+Jim cursed his ill-luck; the loss of time that this dilemma entailed grew
+serious; for Mrs. Peach was now in such a hysterical state that he could
+not leave her with any good grace or feeling.  It was necessary to take
+her to a refreshment room, lavish restoratives upon her, and altogether
+to waste nearly half an hour.  When she had kept him as long as she
+chose, she forgave him; and thus at last he got away, his heart swelling
+with tenderness towards Margery.  He at once hurried up the street to
+effect the reconciliation with her.
+
+‘How shall I do it?’ he said to himself.  ‘Why, I’ll step round to her
+side, fish for her hand, draw it through my arm as if I wasn’t aware of
+it.  Then she’ll look in my face, I shall look in hers, and we shall
+march off the field triumphant, and the thing will be done without
+takings or tears.’
+
+He entered the field and went straight as an arrow to the place appointed
+for the meeting.  It was at the back of a refreshment tent outside the
+mass of spectators, and divided from their view by the tent itself.  He
+turned the corner of the canvas, and there beheld Vine at the indicated
+spot.  But Margery was not with him.
+
+Vine’s hat was thrust back into his poll.  His face was pale, and his
+manner bewildered.  ‘Hullo? what’s the matter?’ said Jim.  ‘Where’s my
+Margery?’
+
+‘You’ve carried this footy game too far, my man!’ exclaimed Vine, with
+the air of a friend who has ‘always told you so.’  ‘You ought to have
+dropped it several days ago, when she would have come to ’ee like a
+cooing dove.  Now this is the end o’t!’
+
+‘Hey! what, my Margery?  Has anything happened, for God’s sake?’
+
+‘She’s gone.’
+
+‘Where to?’
+
+‘That’s more than earthly man can tell!  I never see such a thing!  ’Twas
+a stroke o’ the black art—as if she were sperrited away.  When we got to
+the games I said—mind, you told me to!—I said, “Jim Hayward thinks o’
+going off to London with that widow woman”—mind you told me to!  She
+showed no wonderment, though a’ seemed very low.  Then she said to me, “I
+don’t like standing here in this slummocky crowd.  I shall feel more at
+home among the gentlepeople.”  And then she went to where the carriages
+were drawn up, and near her there was a grand coach, a-blazing with lions
+and unicorns, and hauled by two coal-black horses.  I hardly thought much
+of it then, and by degrees lost sight of her behind it.  Presently the
+other carriages moved off, and I thought still to see her standing there.
+But no, she had vanished; and then I saw the grand coach rolling away,
+and glimpsed Margery in it, beside a fine dark gentleman with black
+mustachios, and a very pale prince-like face.  As soon as the horses got
+into the hard road they rattled on like hell-and-skimmer, and went out of
+sight in the dust, and—that’s all.  If you’d come back a little sooner
+you’d ha’ caught her.’
+
+Jim had turned whiter than his pipeclay.  ‘O, this is too bad—too bad!’
+he cried in anguish, striking his brow.  ‘That paper and that fainting
+woman kept me so long.  Who could have done it?  But ’tis my fault.  I’ve
+stung her too much.  I shouldn’t have carried it so far.’
+
+‘You shouldn’t—just what I said,’ replied his senior.
+
+‘She thinks I’ve gone off with that cust widow; and to spite me she’s
+gone off with the man!  Do you know who that stranger wi’ the lions and
+unicorns is?  Why, ’tis that foreigner who calls himself a Baron, and
+took Mount Lodge for six months last year to make mischief—a villain!  O,
+my Margery—that it should come to this!  She’s lost, she’s ruined!—Which
+way did they go?’
+
+Jim turned to follow in the direction indicated, when, behold, there
+stood at his back her father, Dairyman Tucker.
+
+‘Now look here, young man,’ said Dairyman Tucker.  ‘I’ve just heard all
+that wailing—and straightway will ask ’ee to stop it sharp.  ’Tis like
+your brazen impudence to teave and wail when you be another woman’s
+husband; yes, faith, I see’d her a-fainting in yer arms when you wanted
+to get away from her, and honest folk a-standing round who knew you’d
+married her, and said so.  I heard it, though you didn’t see me.  “He’s
+married!” says they.  Some sly register-office business, no doubt; but
+sly doings will out.  As for Margery—who’s to be called higher titles in
+these parts hencefor’ard—I’m her father, and I say it’s all right what
+she’s done.  Don’t I know private news, hey?  Haven’t I just learnt that
+secret weddings of high people can happen at expected deathbeds by
+special licence, as well as low people at registrars’ offices?  And can’t
+husbands come back and claim their own when they choose?  Begone, young
+man, and leave noblemen’s wives alone; and I thank God I shall be rid of
+a numskull!’
+
+Swift words of explanation rose to Jim’s lips, but they paused there and
+died.  At that last moment he could not, as Margery’s husband, announce
+Margery’s shame and his own, and transform her father’s triumph to
+wretchedness at a blow.
+
+‘I—I—must leave here,’ he stammered.  Going from the place in an opposite
+course to that of the fugitives, he doubled when out of sight, and in an
+incredibly short space had entered the town.  Here he made inquiries for
+the emblazoned carriage, and gained from one or two persons a general
+idea of its route.  They thought it had taken the highway to London.
+Saddling poor Tony before he had half eaten his corn, Jim galloped along
+the same road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Now Jim was quite mistaken in supposing that by leaving the field in a
+roundabout manner he had deceived Dairyman Tucker as to his object.  That
+astute old man immediately divined that Jim was meaning to track the
+fugitives, in ignorance (as the dairyman supposed) of their lawful
+relation.  He was soon assured of the fact, for, creeping to a remote
+angle of the field, he saw Jim hastening into the town.  Vowing vengeance
+on the young lime-burner for his mischievous interference between a
+nobleman and his secretly-wedded wife, the dairy-farmer determined to
+balk him.
+
+Tucker had ridden on to the Review ground, so that there was no necessity
+for him, as there had been for poor Jim, to re-enter the town before
+starting.  The dairyman hastily untied his mare from the row of other
+horses, mounted, and descended to a bridle-path which would take him
+obliquely into the London road a mile or so ahead.  The old man’s route
+being along one side of an equilateral triangle, while Jim’s was along
+two sides of the same, the former was at the point of intersection long
+before Hayward.
+
+Arrived here, the dairyman pulled up and looked around.  It was a spot at
+which the highway forked; the left arm, the more important, led on
+through Sherton Abbas and Melchester to London; the right to Idmouth and
+the coast.  Nothing was visible on the white track to London; but on the
+other there appeared the back of a carriage, which rapidly ascended a
+distant hill and vanished under the trees.  It was the Baron’s who,
+according to the sworn information of the gardener at Mount Lodge, had
+made Margery his wife.
+
+The carriage having vanished, the dairyman gazed in the opposite
+direction, towards Exonbury.  Here he beheld Jim in his regimentals,
+laboriously approaching on Tony’s back.
+
+Soon he reached the forking roads, and saw the dairyman by the wayside.
+But Jim did not halt.  Then the dairyman practised the greatest duplicity
+of his life.
+
+‘Right along the London road, if you want to catch ’em!’ he said.
+
+‘Thank ’ee, dairyman, thank ’ee!’ cried Jim, his pale face lighting up
+with gratitude, for he believed that Tucker had learnt his mistake from
+Vine, and had come to his assistance.  Without drawing rein he diminished
+along the road not taken by the flying pair.  The dairyman rubbed his
+hands with delight, and returned to the city as the cathedral clock
+struck five.
+
+Jim pursued his way through the dust, up hill and down hill; but never
+saw ahead of him the vehicle of his search.  That vehicle was passing
+along a diverging way at a distance of many miles from where he rode.
+Still he sped onwards, till Tony showed signs of breaking down; and then
+Jim gathered from inquiries he made that he had come the wrong way.  It
+burst upon his mind that the dairyman, still ignorant of the truth, had
+misinformed him.  Heavier in his heart than words can describe he turned
+Tony’s drooping head, and resolved to drag his way home.
+
+But the horse was now so jaded that it was impossible to proceed far.
+Having gone about half a mile back he came again to a small roadside
+hamlet and inn, where he put up Tony for a rest and feed.  As for
+himself, there was no quiet in him.  He tried to sit and eat in the inn
+kitchen; but he could not stay there.  He went out, and paced up and down
+the road.
+
+Standing in sight of the white way by which he had come he beheld
+advancing towards him the horses and carriage he sought, now black and
+daemonic against the slanting fires of the western sun.
+
+The why and wherefore of this sudden appearance he did not pause to
+consider.  His resolve to intercept the carriage was instantaneous.  He
+ran forward, and doggedly waiting barred the way to the advancing
+equipage.
+
+The Baron’s coachman shouted, but Jim stood firm as a rock, and on the
+former attempting to push past him Jim drew his sword, resolving to cut
+the horses down rather than be displaced.  The animals were thrown nearly
+back upon their haunches, and at this juncture a gentleman looked out of
+the window.  It was the Baron himself.
+
+‘Who’s there?’ he inquired.
+
+‘James Hayward!’ replied the young man fiercely, ‘and he demands his
+wife.’
+
+The Baron leapt out, and told the coachman to drive back out of sight and
+wait for him.
+
+‘I was hastening to find you,’ he said to Jim.  ‘Your wife is where she
+ought to be, and where you ought to be also—by your own fireside.
+Where’s the other woman?’
+
+Jim, without replying, looked incredulously into the carriage as it
+turned.  Margery was certainly not there.  ‘The other woman is nothing to
+me,’ he said bitterly.  ‘I used her to warm up Margery: I have now done
+with her.  The question I ask, my lord, is, what business had you with
+Margery to-day?’
+
+‘My business was to help her to regain the husband she had seemingly
+lost.  I saw her; she told me you had eloped by the London road with
+another.  I, who have—mostly—had her happiness at heart, told her I would
+help her to follow you if she wished.  She gladly agreed; we drove after,
+but could hear no tidings of you in front of us.  Then I took her—to your
+house—and there she awaits you.  I promised to send you to her if human
+effort could do it, and was tracking you for that purpose.’
+
+‘Then you’ve been a-pursuing after me?’
+
+‘You and the widow.’
+
+‘And I’ve been pursuing after you and Margery!  My noble lord, your
+actions seem to show that I ought to believe you in this; and when you
+say you’ve her happiness at heart, I don’t forget that you’ve formerly
+proved it to be so.  Well, Heaven forbid that I should think wrongfully
+of you if you don’t deserve it!  A mystery to me you have always been, my
+noble lord, and in this business more than in any.’
+
+‘I am glad to hear you say no worse.  In one hour you’ll have proof of my
+conduct—good and bad.  Can I do anything more?  Say the word, and I’ll
+try.’
+
+Jim reflected.  ‘Baron,’ he said, ‘I am a plain man, and wish only to
+lead a quiet life with my wife, as a man should.  You have great power
+over her—power to any extent, for good or otherwise.  If you command her
+anything on earth, righteous or questionable, that she’ll do.  So that,
+since you ask me if you can do more for me, I’ll answer this, you can
+promise never to see her again.  I mean no harm, my lord; but your
+presence can do no good; you will trouble us.  If I return to her, will
+you for ever stay away?’
+
+‘Hayward,’ said the Baron, ‘I swear to you that I will disturb you and
+your wife by my presence no more.  And he took Jim’s hand, and pressed it
+within his own upon the hilt of Jim’s sword.
+
+In relating this incident to the present narrator Jim used to declare
+that, to his fancy, the ruddy light of the setting sun burned with more
+than earthly fire on the Baron’s face as the words were spoken; and that
+the ruby flash of his eye in the same light was what he never witnessed
+before nor since in the eye of mortal man.  After this there was nothing
+more to do or say in that place.  Jim accompanied his
+never-to-be-forgotten acquaintance to the carriage, closed the door after
+him, waved his hat to him, and from that hour he and the Baron met not
+again on earth.
+
+A few words will suffice to explain the fortunes of Margery while the
+foregoing events were in action elsewhere.  On leaving her companion Vine
+she had gone distractedly among the carriages, the rather to escape his
+observation than of any set purpose.  Standing here she thought she heard
+her name pronounced, and turning, saw her foreign friend, whom she had
+supposed to be, if not dead, a thousand miles off.  He beckoned, and she
+went close.  ‘You are ill—you are wretched,’ he said, looking keenly in
+her face.  ‘Where’s your husband?’
+
+She told him her sad suspicion that Jim had run away from her.  The Baron
+reflected, and inquired a few other particulars of her late life.  Then
+he said: ‘You and I must find him.  Come with me.’  At this word of
+command from the Baron she had entered the carriage as docilely as a
+child, and there she sat beside him till he chose to speak, which was not
+till they were some way out of the town, at the forking ways, and the
+Baron had discovered that Jim was certainly not, as they had supposed,
+making off from Margery along that particular branch of the fork that led
+to London.
+
+‘To pursue him in this way is useless, I perceive,’ he said.  ‘And the
+proper course now is that I should take you to his house.  That done I
+will return, and bring him to you if mortal persuasion can do it.’
+
+‘I didn’t want to go to his house without him, sir,’ said she,
+tremblingly.
+
+‘Didn’t want to!’ he answered.  ‘Let me remind you, Margery Hayward, that
+your place is in your husband’s house.  Till you are there you have no
+right to criticize his conduct, however wild it may be.  Why have you not
+been there before?’
+
+‘I don’t know, sir,’ she murmured, her tears falling silently upon her
+hand.
+
+‘Don’t you think you ought to be there?’
+
+She did not answer.
+
+‘Of course you ought.’
+
+Still she did not speak.
+
+The Baron sank into silence, and allowed his eye to rest on her.  What
+thoughts were all at once engaging his mind after those moments of
+reproof?  Margery had given herself into his hands without a
+remonstrance, her husband had apparently deserted her.  She was
+absolutely in his power, and they were on the high road.
+
+That his first impulse in inviting her to accompany him had been the
+legitimate one denoted by his words cannot reasonably be doubted.  That
+his second was otherwise soon became revealed, though not at first to
+her, for she was too bewildered to notice where they were going.  Instead
+of turning and taking the road to Jim’s, the Baron, as if influenced
+suddenly by her reluctance to return thither if Jim was playing truant,
+signalled to the coachman to take the branch road to the right, as her
+father had discerned.
+
+They soon approached the coast near Idmouth.  The carriage stopped.
+Margery awoke from her reverie.
+
+‘Where are we?’ she said, looking out of the window, with a start.
+Before her was an inlet of the sea, and in the middle of the inlet rode a
+yacht, its masts repeating as if from memory the rocking they had
+practised in their native forest.
+
+‘At a little sea-side nook, where my yacht lies at anchor,’ he said
+tentatively.  ‘Now, Margery, in five minutes we can be aboard, and in
+half an hour we can be sailing away all the world over.  Will you come?’
+
+‘I cannot decide,’ she said, in low tones.
+
+‘Why not?’
+
+‘Because—’
+
+Then on a sudden, Margery seemed to see all contingencies: she became
+white as a fleece, and a bewildered look came into her eyes.  With
+clasped hands she leant on the Baron.
+
+Baron von Xanten observed her distracted look, averted his face, and
+coming to a decision opened the carriage door, quickly mounted outside,
+and in a second or two the carriage left the shore behind, and ascended
+the road by which it had come.
+
+In about an hour they reached Jim Hayward’s home.  The Baron alighted,
+and spoke to her through the window.  ‘Margery, can you forgive a lover’s
+bad impulse, which I swear was unpremeditated?’ he asked.  ‘If you can,
+shake my hand.’
+
+She did not do it, but eventually allowed him to help her out of the
+carriage.  He seemed to feel the awkwardness keenly; and seeing it, she
+said, ‘Of course I forgive you, sir, for I felt for a moment as you did.
+Will you send my husband to me?’
+
+‘I will, if any man can,’ said he.  ‘Such penance is milder than I
+deserve!  God bless you and give you happiness!  I shall never see you
+again!’  He turned, entered the carriage, and was gone; and having found
+out Jim’s course, came up with him upon the road as described.
+
+In due time the latter reached his lodging at his partner’s.  The woman
+who took care of the house in Vine’s absence at once told Jim that a lady
+who had come in a carriage was waiting for him in his sitting-room.  Jim
+proceeded thither with agitation, and beheld, shrinkingly ensconced in
+the large slippery chair, and surrounded by the brilliant articles that
+had so long awaited her, his long-estranged wife.
+
+Margery’s eyes were round and fear-stricken.  She essayed to speak, but
+Jim, strangely enough, found the readier tongue then.  ‘Why did I do it,
+you would ask,’ he said.  ‘I cannot tell.  Do you forgive my deception?
+O Margery—you are my Margery still!  But how could you trust yourself in
+the Baron’s hands this afternoon, without knowing him better?’
+
+‘He said I was to come, and I went,’ she said, as well as she could for
+tearfulness.
+
+‘You obeyed him blindly.’
+
+‘I did.  But perhaps I was not justified in doing it.’
+
+‘I don’t know,’ said Jim musingly.  ‘I think he’s a good man.’  Margery
+did not explain.  And then a sunnier mood succeeded her tremblings and
+tears, till old Mr. Vine came into the house below, and Jim went down to
+declare that all was well, and sent off his partner to break the news to
+Margery’s father, who as yet remained unenlightened.
+
+The dairyman bore the intelligence of his daughter’s untitled state as
+best he could, and punished her by not coming near her for several weeks,
+though at last he grumbled his forgiveness, and made up matters with Jim.
+The handsome Mrs. Peach vanished to Plymouth, and found another sailor,
+not without a reasonable complaint against Jim and Margery both that she
+had been unfairly used.
+
+As for the mysterious gentleman who had exercised such an influence over
+their lives, he kept his word, and was a stranger to Lower Wessex
+thenceforward.  Baron or no Baron, Englishman or foreigner, he had shown
+a genuine interest in Jim, and real sorrow for a certain reckless phase
+of his acquaintance with Margery.  That he had a more tender feeling
+toward the young girl than he wished her or any one else to perceive
+there could be no doubt.  That he was strongly tempted at times to adopt
+other than conventional courses with regard to her is also clear,
+particularly at that critical hour when she rolled along the high road
+with him in the carriage, after turning from the fancied pursuit of Jim.
+But at other times he schooled impassioned sentiments into fair conduct,
+which even erred on the side of harshness.  In after years there was a
+report that another attempt on his life with a pistol, during one of
+those fits of moodiness to which he seemed constitutionally liable, had
+been effectual; but nobody in Silverthorn was in a position to ascertain
+the truth.
+
+There he is still regarded as one who had something about him magical and
+unearthly.  In his mystery let him remain; for a man, no less than a
+landscape, who awakens an interest under uncertain lights and touches of
+unfathomable shade, may cut but a poor figure in a garish noontide shine.
+
+When she heard of his mournful death Margery sat in her nursing-chair,
+gravely thinking for nearly ten minutes, to the total neglect of her
+infant in the cradle.  Jim, from the other side of the fire-place, said:
+‘You are sorry enough for him, Margery.  I am sure of that.’
+
+‘Yes, yes,’ she murmured, ‘I am sorry.’  After a moment she added: ‘Now
+that he’s dead I’ll make a confession, Jim, that I have never made to a
+soul.  If he had pressed me—which he did not—to go with him when I was in
+the carriage that night beside his yacht, I would have gone.  And I was
+disappointed that he did not press me.’
+
+‘Suppose he were to suddenly appear now, and say in a voice of command,
+“Margery, come with me!”’
+
+‘I believe I should have no power to disobey,’ she returned, with a
+mischievous look.  ‘He was like a magician to me.  I think he was one.
+He could move me as a loadstone moves a speck of steel . . . Yet no,’ she
+added, hearing the infant cry, ‘he would not move me now.  It would be so
+unfair to baby.’
+
+‘Well,’ said Jim, with no great concern (for ‘_la jalousie
+rétrospective_,’ as George Sand calls it, had nearly died out of him),
+‘however he might move ’ee, my love, he’ll never come.  He swore it to
+me: and he was a man of his word.’
+
+_Midsummer_, 1883.
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A
+MILKMAID***
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
+<title>The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid, by Thomas Hardy</title>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid, by
+Thomas Hardy
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world 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.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid
+
+
+Author: Thomas Hardy
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2015  [eBook #2996]
+[This file was first posted on October 12, 2000]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A
+MILKMAID***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1920 Macmillan and Co. <i>A Changed Man
+and Other Tales</i> edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<h1>THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A MILKMAID.</h1>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was half-past four o&rsquo;clock
+(by the testimony of the land-surveyor, my authority for the
+particulars of this story, a gentleman with the faintest curve of
+humour on his lips); it was half-past four o&rsquo;clock on a May
+morning in the eighteen forties.&nbsp; A dense white fog hung
+over the Valley of the Exe, ending against the hills on either
+side.</p>
+<p>But though nothing in the vale could be seen from higher
+ground, notes of differing kinds gave pretty clear indications
+that bustling life was going on there.&nbsp; This audible
+presence and visual absence of an active scene had a peculiar
+effect above the fog level.&nbsp; Nature had laid a white hand
+over the creatures ensconced within the vale, as a hand might be
+laid over a nest of chirping birds.</p>
+<p>The noises that ascended through the pallid coverlid were
+perturbed lowings, mingled with human voices in sharps and flats,
+and the bark of a dog.&nbsp; These, followed by the slamming of a
+gate, explained as well as eyesight could have done, to any
+inhabitant of the district, that Dairyman Tucker&rsquo;s
+under-milker was driving the cows from the meads into the
+stalls.&nbsp; When a rougher accent joined in the vociferations
+of man and beast, it would have been realized that the
+dairy-farmer himself had come out to meet the cows, pail in hand,
+and white pinafore on; and when, moreover, some women&rsquo;s
+voices joined in the chorus, that the cows were stalled and
+proceedings about to commence.</p>
+<p>A hush followed, the atmosphere being so stagnant that the
+milk could be heard buzzing into the pails, together with
+occasional words of the milkmaids and men.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Don&rsquo;t ye bide about long upon the road,
+Margery.&nbsp; You can be back again by skimming-time.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The rough voice of Dairyman Tucker was the vehicle of this
+remark.&nbsp; The barton-gate slammed again, and in two or three
+minutes a something became visible, rising out of the fog in that
+quarter.</p>
+<p>The shape revealed itself as that of a woman having a young
+and agile gait.&nbsp; The colours and other details of her dress
+were then disclosed&mdash;a bright pink cotton frock (because
+winter was over); a small woollen shawl of shepherd&rsquo;s plaid
+(because summer was not come); a white handkerchief tied over her
+head-gear, because it was so foggy, so damp, and so early; and a
+straw bonnet and ribbons peeping from under the handkerchief,
+because it was likely to be a sunny May day.</p>
+<p>Her face was of the hereditary type among families down in
+these parts: sweet in expression, perfect in hue, and somewhat
+irregular in feature.&nbsp; Her eyes were of a liquid
+brown.&nbsp; On her arm she carried a withy basket, in which lay
+several butter-rolls in a nest of wet cabbage-leaves.&nbsp; She
+was the &lsquo;Margery&rsquo; who had been told not to
+&lsquo;bide about long upon the road.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She went on her way across the fields, sometimes above the
+fog, sometimes below it, not much perplexed by its presence
+except when the track was so indefinite that it ceased to be a
+guide to the next stile.&nbsp; The dampness was such that
+innumerable earthworms lay in couples across the path till,
+startled even by her light tread, they withdrew suddenly into
+their holes.&nbsp; She kept clear of all trees.&nbsp; Why was
+that?&nbsp; There was no danger of lightning on such a morning as
+this.&nbsp; But though the roads were dry the fog had gathered in
+the boughs, causing them to set up such a dripping as would go
+clean through the protecting handkerchief like bullets, and spoil
+the ribbons beneath.&nbsp; The beech and ash were particularly
+shunned, for they dripped more maliciously than any.&nbsp; It was
+an instance of woman&rsquo;s keen appreciativeness of
+nature&rsquo;s moods and peculiarities: a man crossing those
+fields might hardly have perceived that the trees dripped at
+all.</p>
+<p>In less than an hour she had traversed a distance of four
+miles, and arrived at a latticed cottage in a secluded
+spot.&nbsp; An elderly woman, scarce awake, answered her
+knocking.&nbsp; Margery delivered up the butter, and said,
+&lsquo;How is granny this morning?&nbsp; I can&rsquo;t stay to go
+up to her, but tell her I have returned what we owed
+her.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Her grandmother was no worse than usual: and receiving back
+the empty basket the girl proceeded to carry out some intention
+which had not been included in her orders.&nbsp; Instead of
+returning to the light labours of skimming-time, she hastened on,
+her direction being towards a little neighbouring town.&nbsp;
+Before, however, Margery had proceeded far, she met the postman,
+laden to the neck with letter-bags, of which he had not yet
+deposited one.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Are the shops open yet, Samuel?&rsquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O no,&rsquo; replied that stooping pedestrian, not
+waiting to stand upright.&nbsp; &lsquo;They won&rsquo;t be open
+yet this hour, except the saddler and ironmonger and little
+tacker-haired machine-man for the farm folk.&nbsp; They downs
+their shutters at half-past six, then the baker&rsquo;s at
+half-past seven, then the draper&rsquo;s at eight.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O, the draper&rsquo;s at eight.&rsquo;&nbsp; It was
+plain that Margery had wanted the draper&rsquo;s.</p>
+<p>The postman turned up a side-path, and the young girl, as
+though deciding within herself that if she could not go shopping
+at once she might as well get back for the skimming, retraced her
+steps.</p>
+<p>The public road home from this point was easy but
+devious.&nbsp; By far the nearest way was by getting over a
+fence, and crossing the private grounds of a picturesque old
+country-house, whose chimneys were just visible through the
+trees.&nbsp; As the house had been shut up for many months, the
+girl decided to take the straight cut.&nbsp; She pushed her way
+through the laurel bushes, sheltering her bonnet with the shawl
+as an additional safeguard, scrambled over an inner boundary,
+went along through more shrubberies, and stood ready to emerge
+upon the open lawn.&nbsp; Before doing so she looked around in
+the wary manner of a poacher.&nbsp; It was not the first time
+that she had broken fence in her life; but somehow, and all of a
+sudden, she had felt herself too near womanhood to indulge in
+such practices with freedom.&nbsp; However, she moved forth, and
+the house-front stared her in the face, at this higher level
+unobscured by fog.</p>
+<p>It was a building of the medium size, and unpretending, the
+fa&ccedil;ade being of stone; and of the Italian elevation made
+familiar by Inigo Jones and his school.&nbsp; There was a doorway
+to the lawn, standing at the head of a flight of steps.&nbsp; The
+shutters of the house were closed, and the blinds of the bedrooms
+drawn down.&nbsp; Her perception of the fact that no crusty
+caretaker could see her from the windows led her at once to
+slacken her pace, and stroll through the flower-beds
+coolly.&nbsp; A house unblinded is a possible spy, and must be
+treated accordingly; a house with the shutters together is an
+insensate heap of stone and mortar, to be faced with
+indifference.</p>
+<p>On the other side of the house the greensward rose to an
+eminence, whereon stood one of those curious summer shelters
+sometimes erected on exposed points of view, called an
+all-the-year-round.&nbsp; In the present case it consisted of
+four walls radiating from a centre like the arms of a turnstile,
+with seats in each angle, so that whencesoever the wind came, it
+was always possible to find a screened corner from which to
+observe the landscape.</p>
+<p>The milkmaid&rsquo;s trackless course led her up the hill and
+past this erection.&nbsp; At ease as to being watched and scolded
+as an intruder, her mind flew to other matters; till, at the
+moment when she was not a yard from the shelter, she heard a foot
+or feet scraping on the gravel behind it.&nbsp; Some one was in
+the all-the-year-round, apparently occupying the seat on the
+other side; as was proved when, on turning, she saw an elbow, a
+man&rsquo;s elbow, projecting over the edge.</p>
+<p>Now the young woman did not much like the idea of going down
+the hill under the eyes of this person, which she would have to
+do if she went on, for as an intruder she was liable to be called
+back and questioned upon her business there.&nbsp; Accordingly
+she crept softly up and sat in the seat behind, intending to
+remain there until her companion should leave.</p>
+<p>This he by no means seemed in a hurry to do.&nbsp; What could
+possibly have brought him there, what could detain him there, at
+six o&rsquo;clock on a morning of mist when there was nothing to
+be seen or enjoyed of the vale beneath, puzzled her not a
+little.&nbsp; But he remained quite still, and Margery grew
+impatient.&nbsp; She discerned the track of his feet in the dewy
+grass, forming a line from the house steps, which announced that
+he was an inhabitant and not a chance passer-by.&nbsp; At last
+she peeped round.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+<p>A fine-framed dark-mustachioed gentleman, in dressing-gown and
+slippers, was sitting there in the damp without a hat on.&nbsp;
+With one hand he was tightly grasping his forehead, the other
+hung over his knee.&nbsp; The attitude bespoke with sufficient
+clearness a mental condition of anguish.&nbsp; He was quite a
+different being from any of the men to whom her eyes were
+accustomed.&nbsp; She had never seen mustachios before, for they
+were not worn by civilians in Lower Wessex at this date.&nbsp;
+His hands and his face were white&mdash;to her view deadly
+white&mdash;and he heeded nothing outside his own
+existence.&nbsp; There he remained as motionless as the bushes
+around him; indeed, he scarcely seemed to breathe.</p>
+<p>Having imprudently advanced thus far, Margery&rsquo;s wish was
+to get back again in the same unseen manner; but in moving her
+foot for the purpose it grated on the gravel.&nbsp; He started up
+with an air of bewilderment, and slipped something into the
+pocket of his dressing-gown.&nbsp; She was almost certain that it
+was a pistol.&nbsp; The pair stood looking blankly at each
+other.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My Gott, who are you?&rsquo; he asked sternly, and with
+not altogether an English articulation.&nbsp; &lsquo;What do you
+do here?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery had already begun to be frightened at her boldness in
+invading the lawn and pleasure-seat.&nbsp; The house had a
+master, and she had not known of it.&nbsp; &lsquo;My name is
+Margaret Tucker, sir,&rsquo; she said meekly.&nbsp; &lsquo;My
+father is Dairyman Tucker.&nbsp; We live at Silverthorn
+Dairy-house.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What were you doing here at this hour of the
+morning?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She told him, even to the fact that she had climbed over the
+fence.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And what made you peep round at me?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I saw your elbow, sir; and I wondered what you were
+doing?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And what was I doing?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Nothing.&nbsp; You had one hand on your forehead and
+the other on your knee.&nbsp; I do hope you are not ill, sir, or
+in deep trouble?&rsquo;&nbsp; Margery had sufficient tact to say
+nothing about the pistol.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What difference would it make to you if I were ill or
+in trouble?&nbsp; You don&rsquo;t know me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She returned no answer, feeling that she might have taken a
+liberty in expressing sympathy.&nbsp; But, looking furtively up
+at him, she discerned to her surprise that he seemed affected by
+her humane wish, simply as it had been expressed.&nbsp; She had
+scarcely conceived that such a tall dark man could know what
+gentle feelings were.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well, I am much obliged to you for caring how I
+am,&rsquo; said he with a faint smile and an affected lightness
+of manner which, even to her, only rendered more apparent the
+gloom beneath.&nbsp; &lsquo;I have not slept this past
+night.&nbsp; I suffer from sleeplessness.&nbsp; Probably you do
+not.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery laughed a little, and he glanced with interest at the
+comely picture she presented; her fresh face, brown hair, candid
+eyes, unpractised manner, country dress, pink hands, empty
+wicker-basket, and the handkerchief over her bonnet.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; he said, after his scrutiny, &lsquo;I need
+hardly have asked such a question of one who is Nature&rsquo;s
+own image . . . Ah, but my good little friend,&rsquo; he added,
+recurring to his bitter tone and sitting wearily down, &lsquo;you
+don&rsquo;t know what great clouds can hang over some
+people&rsquo;s lives, and what cowards some men are in face of
+them.&nbsp; To escape themselves they travel, take picturesque
+houses, and engage in country sports.&nbsp; But here it is so
+dreary, and the fog was horrible this morning!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why, this is only the pride of the morning!&rsquo; said
+Margery.&nbsp; &lsquo;By-and-by it will be a beautiful
+day.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She was going on her way forthwith; but he detained
+her&mdash;detained her with words, talking on every innocent
+little subject he could think of.&nbsp; He had an object in
+keeping her there more serious than his words would imply.&nbsp;
+It was as if he feared to be left alone.</p>
+<p>While they still stood, the misty figure of the postman, whom
+Margery had left a quarter of an hour earlier to follow his
+sinuous course, crossed the grounds below them on his way to the
+house.&nbsp; Signifying to Margery by a wave of his hand that she
+was to step back out of sight, in the hinder angle of the
+shelter, the gentleman beckoned to the postman to bring the bag
+to where he stood.&nbsp; The man did so, and again resumed his
+journey.</p>
+<p>The stranger unlocked the bag and threw it on the seat, having
+taken one letter from within.&nbsp; This he read attentively, and
+his countenance changed.</p>
+<p>The change was almost phantasmagorial, as if the sun had burst
+through the fog upon that face: it became clear, bright, almost
+radiant.&nbsp; Yet it was but a change that may take place in the
+commonest human being, provided his countenance be not too
+wooden, or his artifice have not grown to second nature.&nbsp; He
+turned to Margery, who was again edging off, and, seizing her
+hand, appeared as though he were about to embrace her.&nbsp;
+Checking his impulse, he said, &lsquo;My guardian child&mdash;my
+good friend&mdash;you have saved me!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What from?&rsquo; she ventured to ask.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That you may never know.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She thought of the weapon, and guessed that the letter he had
+just received had effected this change in his mood, but made no
+observation till he went on to say, &lsquo;What did you tell me
+was your name, dear girl?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She repeated her name.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Margaret Tucker.&rsquo;&nbsp; He stooped, and pressed
+her hand.&nbsp; &lsquo;Sit down for a moment&mdash;one
+moment,&rsquo; he said, pointing to the end of the seat, and
+taking the extremest further end for himself, not to discompose
+her.&nbsp; She sat down.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is to ask a question,&rsquo; he went on, &lsquo;and
+there must be confidence between us.&nbsp; You have saved me from
+an act of madness!&nbsp; What can I do for you?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Nothing, sir.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Nothing?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Father is very well off, and we don&rsquo;t want
+anything.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But there must be some service I can render, some
+kindness, some votive offering which I could make, and so imprint
+on your memory as long as you live that I am not an ungrateful
+man?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why should you be grateful to me, sir?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He shook his head.&nbsp; &lsquo;Some things are best left
+unspoken.&nbsp; Now think.&nbsp; What would you like to have best
+in the world?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery made a pretence of reflecting&mdash;then fell to
+reflecting seriously; but the negative was ultimately as
+undisturbed as ever: she could not decide on anything she would
+like best in the world; it was too difficult, too sudden.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Very well&mdash;don&rsquo;t hurry yourself.&nbsp; Think
+it over all day.&nbsp; I ride this afternoon.&nbsp; You
+live&mdash;where?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Silverthorn Dairy-house.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I will ride that way homeward this evening.&nbsp; Do
+you consider by eight o&rsquo;clock what little article, what
+little treat, you would most like of any.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I will, sir,&rsquo; said Margery, now warming up to the
+idea.&nbsp; &lsquo;Where shall I meet you?&nbsp; Or will you call
+at the house, sir?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah&mdash;no.&nbsp; I should not wish the circumstances
+known out of which our acquaintance rose.&nbsp; It would be more
+proper&mdash;but no.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery, too, seemed rather anxious that he should not
+call.&nbsp; &lsquo;I could come out, sir,&rsquo; she said.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;My father is odd-tempered, and perhaps&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>It was agreed that she should look over a stile at the top of
+her father&rsquo;s garden, and that he should ride along a
+bridle-path outside, to receive her answer.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Margery,&rsquo; said the gentleman in conclusion,
+&lsquo;now that you have discovered me under ghastly conditions,
+are you going to reveal them, and make me an object for the
+gossip of the curious?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No, no, sir!&rsquo; she replied earnestly.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Why should I do that?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You will never tell?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Never, never will I tell what has happened here this
+morning.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Neither to your father, nor to your friends, nor to any
+one?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;To no one at all,&rsquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is sufficient,&rsquo; he answered.&nbsp; &lsquo;You
+mean what you say, my dear maiden.&nbsp; Now you want to leave
+me.&nbsp; Good-bye!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She descended the hill, walking with some awkwardness; for she
+felt the stranger&rsquo;s eyes were upon her till the fog had
+enveloped her from his gaze.&nbsp; She took no notice now of the
+dripping from the trees; she was lost in thought on other
+things.&nbsp; Had she saved this handsome, melancholy, sleepless,
+foreign gentleman who had had a trouble on his mind till the
+letter came?&nbsp; What had he been going to do?&nbsp; Margery
+could guess that he had meditated death at his own hand.&nbsp;
+Strange as the incident had been in itself; to her it had seemed
+stranger even than it was.&nbsp; Contrasting colours heighten
+each other by being juxtaposed; it is the same with contrasting
+lives.</p>
+<p>Reaching the opposite side of the park there appeared before
+her for the third time that little old man, the foot-post.&nbsp;
+As the turnpike-road ran, the postman&rsquo;s beat was twelve
+miles a day; six miles out from the town, and six miles back at
+night.&nbsp; But what with zigzags, devious ways, offsets to
+country seats, curves to farms, looped courses, and triangles to
+outlying hamlets, the ground actually covered by him was nearer
+one-and-twenty miles.&nbsp; Hence it was that Margery, who had
+come straight, was still abreast of him, despite her long
+pause.</p>
+<p>The weighty sense that she was mixed up in a tragical secret
+with an unknown and handsome stranger prevented her joining very
+readily in chat with the postman for some time.&nbsp; But a keen
+interest in her adventure caused her to respond at once when the
+bowed man of mails said, &lsquo;You hit athwart the grounds of
+Mount Lodge, Miss Margery, or you wouldn&rsquo;t ha&rsquo; met me
+here.&nbsp; Well, somebody hey took the old place at
+last.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>In acknowledging her route Margery brought herself to ask who
+the new gentleman might be.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Guide the girl&rsquo;s heart!&nbsp; What! don&rsquo;t
+she know?&nbsp; And yet how should ye&mdash;he&rsquo;s only just
+a-come.&mdash;Well, nominal, he&rsquo;s a fishing gentleman, come
+for the summer only.&nbsp; But, more to the subject, he&rsquo;s a
+foreign noble that&rsquo;s lived in England so long as to be
+without any true country: some of his letters call him Baron,
+some Squire, so that &rsquo;a must be born to something that
+can&rsquo;t be earned by elbow-grease and Christian
+conduct.&nbsp; He was out this morning a-watching the fog.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Postman,&rdquo; &rsquo;a said, &ldquo;good-morning: give
+me the bag.&rdquo;&nbsp; O, yes, &rsquo;a&rsquo;s a civil genteel
+nobleman enough.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Took the house for fishing, did he?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That&rsquo;s what they say, and as it can be for
+nothing else I suppose it&rsquo;s true.&nbsp; But, in final, his
+health&rsquo;s not good, &rsquo;a b&rsquo;lieve; he&rsquo;s been
+living too rithe.&nbsp; The London smoke got into his wyndpipe,
+till &rsquo;a couldn&rsquo;t eat.&nbsp; However, I
+shouldn&rsquo;t mind having the run of his kitchen.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And what is his name?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah&mdash;there you have me!&nbsp; &rsquo;Tis a name no
+man&rsquo;s tongue can tell, or even woman&rsquo;s, except by
+pen-and-ink and good scholarship.&nbsp; It begins with X, and
+who, without the machinery of a clock in&rsquo;s inside, can
+speak that?&nbsp; But here &rsquo;tis&mdash;from his
+letters.&rsquo;&nbsp; The postman with his walking-stick wrote
+upon the ground,</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">&lsquo;<span class="smcap">Baron
+von Xanten</span>&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+<p>The day, as she had prognosticated, turned out fine; for
+weather-wisdom was imbibed with their milk-sops by the children
+of the Exe Vale.&nbsp; The impending meeting excited Margery, and
+she performed her duties in her father&rsquo;s house with
+mechanical unconsciousness.</p>
+<p>Milking, skimming, cheesemaking were done.&nbsp; Her father
+was asleep in the settle, the milkmen and maids were gone home to
+their cottages, and the clock showed a quarter to eight.&nbsp;
+She dressed herself with care, went to the top of the garden, and
+looked over the stile.&nbsp; The view was eastward, and a great
+moon hung before her in a sky which had not a cloud.&nbsp;
+Nothing was moving except on the minutest scale, and she remained
+leaning over, the night-hawk sounding his croud from the bough of
+an isolated tree on the open hill side.</p>
+<p>Here Margery waited till the appointed time had passed by
+three-quarters of an hour; but no Baron came.&nbsp; She had been
+full of an idea, and her heart sank with disappointment.&nbsp;
+Then at last the pacing of a horse became audible on the soft
+path without, leading up from the water-meads, simultaneously
+with which she beheld the form of the stranger, riding home, as
+he had said.</p>
+<p>The moonlight so flooded her face as to make her very
+conspicuous in the garden-gap.&nbsp; &lsquo;Ah my
+maiden&mdash;what is your name&mdash;Margery!&rsquo; he
+said.&nbsp; &lsquo;How came you here?&nbsp; But of course I
+remember&mdash;we were to meet.&nbsp; And it was to be at
+eight&mdash;<i>proh pudor</i>!&mdash;I have kept you
+waiting!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter, sir.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve thought
+of something.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Thought of something?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, sir.&nbsp; You said this morning that I was to
+think what I would like best in the world, and I have made up my
+mind.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I did say so&mdash;to be sure I did,&rsquo; he replied,
+collecting his thoughts.&nbsp; &lsquo;I remember to have had good
+reason for gratitude to you.&rsquo;&nbsp; He placed his hand to
+his brow, and in a minute alighted, and came up to her with the
+bridle in his hand.&nbsp; &lsquo;I was to give you a treat or
+present, and you could not think of one.&nbsp; Now you have done
+so.&nbsp; Let me hear what it is, and I&rsquo;ll be as good as my
+word.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;To go to the Yeomanry Ball that&rsquo;s to be given
+this month.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The Yeomanry Ball&mdash;Yeomanry Ball?&rsquo; he
+murmured, as if, of all requests in the world, this was what he
+had least expected.&nbsp; &lsquo;Where is what you call the
+Yeomanry Ball?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;At Exonbury.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Have you ever been to it before?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No, sir.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Or to any ball?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But did I not say a gift&mdash;a present?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Or a treat?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah, yes, or a treat,&rsquo; he echoed, with the air of
+one who finds himself in a slight fix.&nbsp; &lsquo;But with whom
+would you propose to go?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&nbsp; I have not thought of that
+yet.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You have no friend who could take you, even if I got
+you an invitation?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery looked at the moon.&nbsp; &lsquo;No one who can
+dance,&rsquo; she said; adding, with hesitation, &lsquo;I was
+thinking that perhaps&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But, my dear Margery,&rsquo; he said, stopping her, as
+if he half-divined what her simple dream of a cavalier had been;
+&lsquo;it is very odd that you can think of nothing else than
+going to a Yeomanry Ball.&nbsp; Think again.&nbsp; You are sure
+there is nothing else?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Quite sure, sir,&rsquo; she decisively answered.&nbsp;
+At first nobody would have noticed in that pretty young face any
+sign of decision; yet it was discoverable.&nbsp; The mouth,
+though soft, was firm in line; the eyebrows were distinct, and
+extended near to each other.&nbsp; &lsquo;I have thought of it
+all day,&rsquo; she continued, sadly.&nbsp; &lsquo;Still, sir, if
+you are sorry you offered me anything, I can let you
+off.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Sorry?&mdash;Certainly not, Margery,&rsquo; be said,
+rather nettled.&nbsp; &lsquo;I&rsquo;ll show you that whatever
+hopes I have raised in your breast I am honourable enough to
+gratify.&nbsp; If it lies in my power,&rsquo; he added with
+sudden firmness, &lsquo;you <i>shall</i> go to the Yeomanry
+Ball.&nbsp; In what building is it to be held?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;In the Assembly Rooms.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And would you be likely to be recognized there?&nbsp;
+Do you know many people?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Not many, sir.&nbsp; None, I may say.&nbsp; I know
+nobody who goes to balls.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah, well; you must go, since you wish it; and if there
+is no other way of getting over the difficulty of having nobody
+to take you, I&rsquo;ll take you myself.&nbsp; Would you like me
+to do so?&nbsp; I can dance.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O, yes, sir; I know that, and I thought you might offer
+to do it.&nbsp; But would you bring me back again?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Of course I&rsquo;ll bring you back.&nbsp; But,
+by-the-bye, can <i>you</i> dance?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Reels, and jigs, and country-dances like the
+New-Rigged-Ship, and Follow-my-Lover, and Haste-to-the-Wedding,
+and the College Hornpipe, and the Favourite Quickstep, and
+Captain White&rsquo;s dance.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;A very good list&mdash;a very good! but unluckily I
+fear they don&rsquo;t dance any of those now.&nbsp; But if you
+have the instinct we may soon cure your ignorance.&nbsp; Let me
+see you dance a moment.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She stood out into the garden-path, the stile being still
+between them, and seizing a side of her skirt with each hand,
+performed the movements which are even yet far from uncommon in
+the dances of the villagers of merry England.&nbsp; But her
+motions, though graceful, were not precisely those which appear
+in the figures of a modern ball-room.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well, my good friend, it is a very pretty sight,&rsquo;
+he said, warming up to the proceedings.&nbsp; &lsquo;But you
+dance too well&mdash;you dance all over your person&mdash;and
+that&rsquo;s too thorough a way for the present day.&nbsp; I
+should say it was exactly how they danced in the time of your
+poet Chaucer; but as people don&rsquo;t dance like it now, we
+must consider.&nbsp; First I must inquire more about this ball,
+and then I must see you again.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;If it is a great trouble to you, sir,
+I&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O no, no.&nbsp; I will think it over.&nbsp; So far so
+good.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The Baron mentioned an evening and an hour when he would be
+passing that way again; then mounted his horse and rode away.</p>
+<p>On the next occasion, which was just when the sun was changing
+places with the moon as an illuminator of Silverthorn Dairy, she
+found him at the spot before her, and unencumbered by a
+horse.&nbsp; The melancholy that had so weighed him down at their
+first interview, and had been perceptible at their second, had
+quite disappeared.&nbsp; He pressed her right hand between both
+his own across the stile.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My good maiden, Gott bless you!&rsquo; said he
+warmly.&nbsp; &lsquo;I cannot help thinking of that
+morning!&nbsp; I was too much over-shadowed at first to take in
+the whole force of it.&nbsp; You do not know all; but your
+presence was a miraculous intervention.&nbsp; Now to more
+cheerful matters.&nbsp;&nbsp; I have a great deal to
+tell&mdash;that is, if your wish about the ball be still the
+same?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O yes, sir&mdash;if you don&rsquo;t object.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Never think of my objecting.&nbsp; What I have found
+out is something which simplifies matters amazingly.&nbsp; In
+addition to your Yeomanry Ball at Exonbury, there is also to be
+one in the next county about the same time.&nbsp; This ball is
+not to be held at the Town Hall of the county-town as usual, but
+at Lord Toneborough&rsquo;s, who is colonel of the regiment, and
+who, I suppose, wishes to please the yeomen because his brother
+is going to stand for the county.&nbsp; Now I find I could take
+you there very well, and the great advantage of that ball over
+the Yeomanry Ball in this county is, that there you would be
+absolutely unknown, and I also.&nbsp; But do you prefer your own
+neighbourhood?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O no, sir.&nbsp; It is a ball I long to see&mdash;I
+don&rsquo;t know what it is like; it does not matter
+where.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Good.&nbsp; Then I shall be able to make much more of
+you there, where there is no possibility of recognition.&nbsp;
+That being settled, the next thing is the dancing.&nbsp; Now
+reels and such things do not do.&nbsp; For think of
+this&mdash;there is a new dance at Almack&rsquo;s and everywhere
+else, over which the world has gone crazy.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;How dreadful!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah&mdash;but that is a mere expression&mdash;gone
+mad.&nbsp; It is really an ancient Scythian dance; but, such is
+the power of fashion, that, having once been adopted by Society,
+this dance has made the tour of the Continent in one
+season.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What is its name, sir?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The polka.&nbsp; Young people, who always dance, are
+ecstatic about it, and old people, who have not danced for years,
+have begun to dance again, on its account.&nbsp; All share the
+excitement.&nbsp; It arrived in London only some few months
+ago&mdash;it is now all over the country.&nbsp; Now this is your
+opportunity, my good Margery.&nbsp; To learn this one dance will
+be enough.&nbsp; They will dance scarce anything else at that
+ball.&nbsp; While, to crown all, it is the easiest dance in the
+world, and as I know it quite well I can practise you in the
+step.&nbsp; Suppose we try?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery showed some hesitation before crossing the stile: it
+was a Rubicon in more ways than one.&nbsp; But the curious
+reverence which was stealing over her for all that this stranger
+said and did was too much for prudence.&nbsp; She crossed the
+stile.</p>
+<p>Withdrawing with her to a nook where two high hedges met, and
+where the grass was elastic and dry, he lightly rested his arm on
+her waist, and practised with her the new step of
+fascination.&nbsp; Instead of music he whispered numbers, and
+she, as may be supposed, showed no slight aptness in following
+his instructions.&nbsp; Thus they moved round together, the
+moon-shadows from the twigs racing over their forms as they
+turned.</p>
+<p>The interview lasted about half an hour.&nbsp; Then he
+somewhat abruptly handed her over the stile and stood looking at
+her from the other side.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; he murmured, &lsquo;what has come to pass
+is strange!&nbsp; My whole business after this will be to recover
+my right mind!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery always declared that there seemed to be some power in
+the stranger that was more than human, something magical and
+compulsory, when he seized her and gently trotted her
+round.&nbsp; But lingering emotions may have led her memory to
+play pranks with the scene, and her vivid imagination at that
+youthful age must be taken into account in believing her.&nbsp;
+However, there is no doubt that the stranger, whoever he might
+be, and whatever his powers, taught her the elements of modern
+dancing at a certain interview by moonlight at the top of her
+father&rsquo;s garden, as was proved by her possession of
+knowledge on the subject that could have been acquired in no
+other way.</p>
+<p>His was of the first rank of commanding figures, she was one
+of the most agile of milkmaids, and to casual view it would have
+seemed all of a piece with Nature&rsquo;s doings that things
+should go on thus.&nbsp; But there was another side to the case;
+and whether the strange gentleman were a wild olive tree, or not,
+it was questionable if the acquaintance would lead to
+happiness.&nbsp; &lsquo;A fleeting romance and a possible
+calamity;&rsquo; thus it might have been summed up by the
+practical.</p>
+<p>Margery was in Paradise; and yet she was not at this date
+distinctly in love with the stranger.&nbsp; What she felt was
+something more mysterious, more of the nature of
+veneration.&nbsp; As he looked at her across the stile she spoke
+timidly, on a subject which had apparently occupied her long.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I ought to have a ball-dress, ought I not,
+sir?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Certainly.&nbsp; And you shall have a
+ball-dress.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Really?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No doubt of it.&nbsp; I won&rsquo;t do things by halves
+for my best friend.&nbsp; I have thought of the ball-dress, and
+of other things also.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And is my dancing good enough?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Quite&mdash;quite.&rsquo;&nbsp; He paused, lapsed into
+thought, and looked at her.&nbsp; &lsquo;Margery,&rsquo; he said,
+&lsquo;do you trust yourself unreservedly to me?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O yes, sir,&rsquo; she replied brightly; &lsquo;if I am
+not too much trouble: if I am good enough to be seen in your
+society.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The Baron laughed in a peculiar way.&nbsp; &lsquo;Really, I
+think you may assume as much as that.&mdash;However, to
+business.&nbsp; The ball is on the twenty-fifth, that is next
+Thursday week; and the only difficulty about the dress is the
+size.&nbsp; Suppose you lend me this?&rsquo;&nbsp; And he touched
+her on the shoulder to signify a tight little jacket she
+wore.</p>
+<p>Margery was all obedience.&nbsp; She took it off and handed it
+to him.&nbsp; The Baron rolled and compressed it with all his
+force till it was about as large as an apple-dumpling, and put it
+into his pocket.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The next thing,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;is about getting
+the consent of your friends to your going.&nbsp; Have you thought
+of this?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;There is only my father.&nbsp; I can tell him I am
+invited to a party, and I don&rsquo;t think he&rsquo;ll
+mind.&nbsp; Though I would rather not tell him.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But it strikes me that you must inform him something of
+what you intend.&nbsp; I would strongly advise you to do
+so.&rsquo;&nbsp; He spoke as if rather perplexed as to the
+probable custom of the English peasantry in such matters, and
+added, &lsquo;However, it is for you to decide.&nbsp; I know
+nothing of the circumstances.&nbsp; As to getting to the ball,
+the plan I have arranged is this.&nbsp; The direction to Lord
+Toneborough&rsquo;s being the other way from my house, you must
+meet me at Three-Walks-End&mdash;in Chillington Wood, two miles
+or more from here.&nbsp; You know the place?&nbsp; Good.&nbsp; By
+meeting there we shall save five or six miles of journey&mdash;a
+consideration, as it is a long way.&nbsp; Now, for the last time:
+are you still firm in your wish for this particular treat and no
+other?&nbsp; It is not too late to give it up.&nbsp; Cannot you
+think of something else&mdash;something better&mdash;some useful
+household articles you require?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery&rsquo;s countenance, which before had been beaming
+with expectation, lost its brightness: her lips became close, and
+her voice broken.&nbsp; &lsquo;You have offered to take me, and
+now&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No, no, no,&rsquo; he said, patting her cheek.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;We will not think of anything else.&nbsp; You shall
+go.&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+<p>But whether the Baron, in naming such a distant spot for the
+rendezvous, was in hope she might fail him, and so relieve him
+after all of his undertaking, cannot be said; though it might
+have been strongly suspected from his manner that he had no great
+zest for the responsibility of escorting her.</p>
+<p>But he little knew the firmness of the young woman he had to
+deal with.&nbsp; She was one of those soft natures whose power of
+adhesiveness to an acquired idea seems to be one of the special
+attributes of that softness.&nbsp; To go to a ball with this
+mysterious personage of romance was her ardent desire and aim;
+and none the less in that she trembled with fear and excitement
+at her position in so aiming.&nbsp; She felt the deepest awe,
+tenderness, and humility towards the Baron of the strange name;
+and yet she was prepared to stick to her point.</p>
+<p>Thus it was that the afternoon of the eventful day found
+Margery trudging her way up the slopes from the vale to the place
+of appointment.&nbsp; She walked to the music of innumerable
+birds, which increased as she drew away from the open meads
+towards the groves.</p>
+<p>She had overcome all difficulties.&nbsp; After thinking out
+the question of telling or not telling her father, she had
+decided that to tell him was to be forbidden to go.&nbsp; Her
+contrivance therefore was this: to leave home this evening on a
+visit to her invalid grandmother, who lived not far from the
+Baron&rsquo;s house; but not to arrive at her grandmother&rsquo;s
+till breakfast-time next morning.&nbsp; Who would suspect an
+intercalated experience of twelve hours with the Baron at a
+ball?&nbsp; That this piece of deception was indefensible she
+afterwards owned readily enough; but she did not stop to think of
+it then.</p>
+<p>It was sunset within Chillington Wood by the time she reached
+Three-Walks-End&mdash;the converging point of radiating
+trackways, now floored with a carpet of matted grass, which had
+never known other scythes than the teeth of rabbits and
+hares.&nbsp; The twitter overhead had ceased, except from a few
+braver and larger birds, including the cuckoo, who did not fear
+night at this pleasant time of year.&nbsp; Nobody seemed to be on
+the spot when she first drew near, but no sooner did Margery
+stand at the intersection of the roads than a slight crashing
+became audible, and her patron appeared.&nbsp; He was so
+transfigured in dress that she scarcely knew him.&nbsp; Under a
+light great-coat, which was flung open, instead of his ordinary
+clothes he wore a suit of thin black cloth, an open waistcoat
+with a frill all down his shirt-front, a white tie, shining
+boots, no thicker than a glove, a coat that made him look like a
+bird, and a hat that seemed as if it would open and shut like an
+accordion.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I am dressed for the ball&mdash;nothing worse,&rsquo;
+he said, drily smiling.&nbsp; &lsquo;So will you be
+soon.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why did you choose this place for our meeting,
+sir?&rsquo; she asked, looking around and acquiring
+confidence.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why did I choose it?&nbsp; Well, because in riding past
+one day I observed a large hollow tree close by here, and it
+occurred to me when I was last with you that this would be useful
+for our purpose.&nbsp; Have you told your father?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I have not yet told him, sir.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That&rsquo;s very bad of you, Margery.&nbsp; How have
+you arranged it, then?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She briefly related her plan, on which he made no comment,
+but, taking her by the hand as if she were a little child, he led
+her through the undergrowth to a spot where the trees were older,
+and standing at wider distances.&nbsp; Among them was the tree he
+had spoken of&mdash;an elm; huge, hollow, distorted, and
+headless, with a rift in its side.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Now go inside,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;before it gets
+any darker.&nbsp; You will find there everything you want.&nbsp;
+At any rate, if you do not you must do without it.&nbsp;
+I&rsquo;ll keep watch; and don&rsquo;t be longer than you can
+help to be.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What am I to do, sir?&rsquo; asked the puzzled
+maiden.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Go inside, and you will see.&nbsp; When you are ready
+wave your handkerchief at that hole.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She stooped into the opening.&nbsp; The cavity within the tree
+formed a lofty circular apartment, four or five feet in diameter,
+to which daylight entered at the top, and also through a round
+hole about six feet from the ground, marking the spot at which a
+limb had been amputated in the tree&rsquo;s prime.&nbsp; The
+decayed wood of cinnamon-brown, forming the inner surface of the
+tree, and the warm evening glow, reflected in at the top,
+suffused the cavity with a faint mellow radiance.</p>
+<p>But Margery had hardly given herself time to heed these
+things.&nbsp; Her eye had been caught by objects of quite another
+quality.&nbsp; A large white oblong paper box lay against the
+inside of the tree; over it, on a splinter, hung a small oval
+looking-glass.</p>
+<p>Margery seized the idea in a moment.&nbsp; She pressed through
+the rift into the tree, lifted the cover of the box, and, behold,
+there was disclosed within a lovely white apparition in a
+somewhat flattened state.&nbsp; It was the ball-dress.</p>
+<p>This marvel of art was, briefly, a sort of heavenly
+cobweb.&nbsp; It was a gossamer texture of precious manufacture,
+artistically festooned in a dozen flounces or more.</p>
+<p>Margery lifted it, and could hardly refrain from kissing
+it.&nbsp; Had any one told her before this moment that such a
+dress could exist, she would have said, &lsquo;No; it&rsquo;s
+impossible!&rsquo;&nbsp; She drew back, went forward, flushed,
+laughed, raised her hands.&nbsp; To say that the maker of that
+dress had been an individual of talent was simply understatement:
+he was a genius, and she sunned herself in the rays of his
+creation.</p>
+<p>She then remembered that her friend without had told her to
+make haste, and she spasmodically proceeded to array
+herself.&nbsp; In removing the dress she found satin slippers,
+gloves, a handkerchief nearly all lace, a fan, and even flowers
+for the hair.&nbsp; &lsquo;O, how could he think of it!&rsquo;
+she said, clasping her hands and almost crying with
+agitation.&nbsp; &lsquo;And the glass&mdash;how good of
+him!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Everything was so well prepared, that to clothe herself in
+these garments was a matter of ease.&nbsp; In a quarter of an
+hour she was ready, even to shoes and gloves.&nbsp; But what led
+her more than anything else into admiration of the Baron&rsquo;s
+foresight was the discovery that there were half-a-dozen pairs
+each of shoes and gloves, of varying sizes, out of which she
+selected a fit.</p>
+<p>Margery glanced at herself in the mirror, or at as much as she
+could see of herself: the image presented was superb.&nbsp; Then
+she hastily rolled up her old dress, put it in the box, and
+thrust the latter on a ledge as high as she could reach.&nbsp;
+Standing on tiptoe, she waved the handkerchief through the upper
+aperture, and bent to the rift to go out.</p>
+<p>But what a trouble stared her in the face.&nbsp; The dress was
+so airy, so fantastical, and so extensive, that to get out in her
+new clothes by the rift which had admitted her in her old ones
+was an impossibility.&nbsp; She heard the Baron&rsquo;s steps
+crackling over the dead sticks and leaves.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O, sir!&rsquo; she began in despair.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What&mdash;can&rsquo;t you dress yourself?&rsquo; he
+inquired from the back of the trunk.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes; but I can&rsquo;t get out of this dreadful
+tree!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He came round to the opening, stooped, and looked in.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;It is obvious that you cannot,&rsquo; he said, taking in
+her compass at a glance; and adding to himself; &lsquo;Charming!
+who would have thought that clothes could do so much!&mdash;Wait
+a minute, my little maid: I have it!&rsquo; he said more
+loudly.</p>
+<p>With all his might he kicked at the sides of the rift, and by
+that means broke away several pieces of the rotten
+touchwood.&nbsp; But, being thinly armed about the feet, he
+abandoned that process, and went for a fallen branch which lay
+near.&nbsp; By using the large end as a lever, he tore away
+pieces of the wooden shell which enshrouded Margery and all her
+loveliness, till the aperture was large enough for her to pass
+without tearing her dress.&nbsp; She breathed her relief: the
+silly girl had begun to fear that she would not get to the ball
+after all.</p>
+<p>He carefully wrapped round her a cloak he had brought with
+him: it was hooded, and of a length which covered her to the
+heels.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The carriage is waiting down the other path,&rsquo; he
+said, and gave her his arm.&nbsp; A short trudge over the soft
+dry leaves brought them to the place indicated.</p>
+<p>There stood the brougham, the horses, the coachman, all as
+still as if they were growing on the spot, like the trees.&nbsp;
+Margery&rsquo;s eyes rose with some timidity to the
+coachman&rsquo;s figure.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You need not mind him,&rsquo; said the Baron.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;He is a foreigner, and heeds nothing.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>In the space of a short minute she was handed inside; the
+Baron buttoned up his overcoat, and surprised her by mounting
+with the coachman.&nbsp; The carriage moved off silently over the
+long grass of the vista, the shadows deepening to black as they
+proceeded.&nbsp; Darker and darker grew the night as they rolled
+on; the neighbourhood familiar to Margery was soon left behind,
+and she had not the remotest idea of the direction they were
+taking.&nbsp; The stars blinked out, the coachman lit his lamps,
+and they bowled on again.</p>
+<p>In the course of an hour and a half they arrived at a small
+town, where they pulled up at the chief inn, and changed horses;
+all being done so readily that their advent had plainly been
+expected.&nbsp; The journey was resumed immediately.&nbsp; Her
+companion never descended to speak to her; whenever she looked
+out there he sat upright on his perch, with the mien of a person
+who had a difficult duty to perform, and who meant to perform it
+properly at all costs.&nbsp; But Margery could not help feeling a
+certain dread at her situation&mdash;almost, indeed, a wish that
+she had not come.&nbsp; Once or twice she thought, &lsquo;Suppose
+he is a wicked man, who is taking me off to a foreign country,
+and will never bring me home again.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>But her characteristic persistence in an original idea
+sustained her against these misgivings except at odd
+moments.&nbsp; One incident in particular had given her
+confidence in her escort: she had seen a tear in his eye when she
+expressed her sorrow for his troubles.&nbsp; He may have divined
+that her thoughts would take an uneasy turn, for when they
+stopped for a moment in ascending a hill he came to the
+window.&nbsp; &lsquo;Are you tired, Margery?&rsquo; he asked
+kindly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No, sir.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Are you afraid?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;N&mdash;no, sir.&nbsp; But it is a long way.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;We are almost there,&rsquo; he answered.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;And now, Margery,&rsquo; he said in a lower tone, &lsquo;I
+must tell you a secret.&nbsp; I have obtained this invitation in
+a peculiar way.&nbsp; I thought it best for your sake not to come
+in my own name, and this is how I have managed.&nbsp; A man in
+this county, for whom I have lately done a service, one whom I
+can trust, and who is personally as unknown here as you and I,
+has (privately) transferred his card of invitation to me.&nbsp;
+So that we go under his name.&nbsp; I explain this that you may
+not say anything imprudent by accident.&nbsp; Keep your ears open
+and be cautious.&rsquo;&nbsp; Having said this the Baron
+retreated again to his place.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Then he is a wicked man after all!&rsquo; she said to
+herself; &lsquo;for he is going under a false name.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+But she soon had the temerity not to mind it: wickedness of that
+sort was the one ingredient required just now to finish him off
+as a hero in her eyes.</p>
+<p>They descended a hill, passed a lodge, then up an avenue; and
+presently there beamed upon them the light from other carriages,
+drawn up in a file, which moved on by degrees; and at last they
+halted before a large arched doorway, round which a group of
+people stood.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;We are among the latest arrivals, on account of the
+distance,&rsquo; said the Baron, reappearing.&nbsp; &lsquo;But
+never mind; there are three hours at least for your
+enjoyment.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The steps were promptly flung down, and they alighted.&nbsp;
+The steam from the flanks of their swarthy steeds, as they seemed
+to her, ascended to the parapet of the porch, and from their
+nostrils the hot breath jetted forth like smoke out of volcanoes,
+attracting the attention of all.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+<p>The bewildered Margery was led by the Baron up the steps to
+the interior of the house, whence the sounds of music and dancing
+were already proceeding.&nbsp; The tones were strange.&nbsp; At
+every fourth beat a deep and mighty note throbbed through the
+air, reaching Margery&rsquo;s soul with all the force of a
+blow.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What is that powerful tune, sir&mdash;I have never
+heard anything like it?&rsquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The Drum Polka,&rsquo; answered the Baron.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;The strange dance I spoke of and that we
+practised&mdash;introduced from my country and other parts of the
+continent.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Her surprise was not lessened when, at the entrance to the
+ballroom, she heard the names of her conductor and herself
+announced as &lsquo;Mr. and Miss Brown.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>However, nobody seemed to take any notice of the announcement,
+the room beyond being in a perfect turmoil of gaiety, and
+Margery&rsquo;s consternation at sailing under false colours
+subsided.&nbsp; At the same moment she observed awaiting them a
+handsome, dark-haired, rather <i>petite</i> lady in
+cream-coloured satin.&nbsp; &lsquo;Who is she?&rsquo; asked
+Margery of the Baron.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;She is the lady of the mansion,&rsquo; he
+whispered.&nbsp; &lsquo;She is the wife of a peer of the realm,
+the daughter of a marquis, has five Christian names; and hardly
+ever speaks to commoners, except for political
+purposes.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;How divine&mdash;what joy to be here!&rsquo; murmured
+Margery, as she contemplated the diamonds that flashed from the
+head of her ladyship, who was just inside the ball-room door, in
+front of a little gilded chair, upon which she sat in the
+intervals between one arrival and another.&nbsp; She had come
+down from London at great inconvenience to herself; openly to
+promote this entertainment.</p>
+<p>As Mr. and Miss Brown expressed absolutely no meaning to Lady
+Toneborough (for there were three Browns already present in this
+rather mixed assembly), and as there was possibly a slight
+awkwardness in poor Margery&rsquo;s manner, Lady Toneborough
+touched their hands lightly with the tips of her long gloves,
+said, &lsquo;How d&rsquo;ye do,&rsquo; and turned round for more
+comers.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah, if she only knew we were a rich Baron and his
+friend, and not Mr. and Miss Brown at all, she wouldn&rsquo;t
+receive us like that, would she?&rsquo; whispered Margery
+confidentially.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Indeed, she wouldn&rsquo;t!&rsquo; drily said the
+Baron.&nbsp; &lsquo;Now let us drop into the dance at once; some
+of the people here, you see, dance much worse than
+you.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Almost before she was aware she had obeyed his mysterious
+influence, by giving him one hand, placing the other upon his
+shoulder, and swinging with him round the room to the steps she
+had learnt on the sward.</p>
+<p>At the first gaze the apartment had seemed to her to be
+floored with black ice; the figures of the dancers appearing upon
+it upside down.&nbsp; At last she realized that it was
+highly-polished oak, but she was none the less afraid to
+move.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I am afraid of falling down,&rsquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Lean on me; you will soon get used to it,&rsquo; he
+replied.&nbsp; &lsquo;You have no nails in your shoes now,
+dear.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>His words, like all his words to her, were quite true.&nbsp;
+She found it amazingly easy in a brief space of time.&nbsp; The
+floor, far from hindering her, was a positive assistance to one
+of her natural agility and litheness.&nbsp; Moreover, her
+marvellous dress of twelve flounces inspired her as nothing else
+could have done.&nbsp; Externally a new creature, she was
+prompted to new deeds.&nbsp; To feel as well-dressed as the other
+women around her is to set any woman at her ease, whencesoever
+she may have come: to feel much better dressed is to add radiance
+to that ease.</p>
+<p>Her prophet&rsquo;s statement on the popularity of the polka
+at this juncture was amply borne out.&nbsp; It was among the
+first seasons of its general adoption in country houses; the
+enthusiasm it excited to-night was beyond description, and
+scarcely credible to the youth of the present day.&nbsp; A new
+motive power had been introduced into the world of
+poesy&mdash;the polka, as a counterpoise to the new motive power
+that had been introduced into the world of prose&mdash;steam.</p>
+<p>Twenty finished musicians sat in the music gallery at the end,
+with romantic mop-heads of raven hair, under which their faces
+and eyes shone like fire under coals.</p>
+<p>The nature and object of the ball had led to its being very
+inclusive.&nbsp; Every rank was there, from the peer to the
+smallest yeoman, and Margery got on exceedingly well,
+particularly when the recuperative powers of supper had banished
+the fatigue of her long drive.</p>
+<p>Sometimes she heard people saying, &lsquo;Who are
+they?&mdash;brother and sister&mdash;father and daughter?&nbsp;
+And never dancing except with each other&mdash;how
+odd?&rsquo;&nbsp; But of this she took no notice.</p>
+<p>When not dancing the watchful Baron took her through the
+drawing-rooms and picture-galleries adjoining, which to-night
+were thrown open like the rest of the house; and there,
+ensconcing her in some curtained nook, he drew her attention to
+scrap-books, prints, and albums, and left her to amuse herself
+with turning them over till the dance in which she was practised
+should again be called.&nbsp; Margery would much have preferred
+to roam about during these intervals; but the words of the Baron
+were law, and as he commanded so she acted.&nbsp; In such
+alternations the evening winged away; till at last came the
+gloomy words, &lsquo;Margery, our time is up.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;One more&mdash;only one!&rsquo; she coaxed, for the
+longer they stayed the more freely and gaily moved the
+dance.&nbsp; This entreaty he granted; but on her asking for yet
+another, he was inexorable.&nbsp; &lsquo;No,&rsquo; he
+said.&nbsp; &lsquo;We have a long way to go.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Then she bade adieu to the wondrous scene, looking over her
+shoulder as they withdrew from the hall; and in a few minutes she
+was cloaked and in the carriage.&nbsp; The Baron mounted to his
+seat on the box, where she saw him light a cigar; they plunged
+under the trees, and she leant back, and gave herself up to
+contemplate the images that filled her brain.&nbsp; The natural
+result followed: she fell asleep.</p>
+<p>She did not awake till they stopped to change horses; when she
+saw against the stars the Baron sitting as erect as ever.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;He watches like the Angel Gabriel, when all the world is
+asleep!&rsquo; she thought.</p>
+<p>With the resumption of motion she slept again, and knew no
+more till he touched her hand and said, &lsquo;Our journey is
+done&mdash;we are in Chillington Wood.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>It was almost daylight.&nbsp; Margery scarcely knew herself to
+be awake till she was out of the carriage and standing beside the
+Baron, who, having told the coachman to drive on to a certain
+point indicated, turned to her.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Now,&rsquo; he said, smiling, &lsquo;run across to the
+hollow tree; you know where it is.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll wait as
+before, while you perform the reverse operation to that you did
+last night.&rsquo;&nbsp; She took no heed of the path now, nor
+regarded whether her pretty slippers became scratched by the
+brambles or no.&nbsp; A walk of a few steps brought her to the
+particular tree which she had left about nine hours
+earlier.&nbsp; It was still gloomy at this spot, the morning not
+being clear.</p>
+<p>She entered the trunk, dislodged the box containing her old
+clothing, pulled off the satin shoes, and gloves, dress, and in
+ten minutes emerged in the cotton and shawl of shepherd&rsquo;s
+plaid.</p>
+<p>Baron was not far off.&nbsp; &lsquo;Now you look the milkmaid
+again,&rsquo; he said, coming towards her.&nbsp; &lsquo;Where is
+the finery?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Packed in the box, sir, as I found it.&rsquo;&nbsp; She
+spoke with more humility now.&nbsp; The difference between them
+was greater than it had been at the ball.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Good,&rsquo; he said.&nbsp; &lsquo;I must just dispose
+of it; and then away we go.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He went back to the tree, Margery following at a little
+distance.&nbsp; Bringing forth the box, he pulled out the dress
+as carelessly as if it had been rags.&nbsp; But this was not
+all.&nbsp; He gathered a few dry sticks, crushed the lovely
+garment into a loose billowy heap, threw the gloves, fan, and
+shoes on the top, then struck a light and ruthlessly set fire to
+the whole.</p>
+<p>Margery was agonized.&nbsp; She ran forward; she implored and
+entreated.&nbsp; &lsquo;Please, sir&mdash;do spare
+it&mdash;do!&nbsp; My lovely dress&mdash;my-dear, dear
+slippers&mdash;my fan&mdash;it is cruel!&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t burn
+them, please!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Nonsense.&nbsp; We shall have no further use for them
+if we live a hundred years.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But spare a bit of it&mdash;one little piece,
+sir&mdash;a scrap of the lace&mdash;one bow of the
+ribbon&mdash;the lovely fan&mdash;just something!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>But he was as immoveable as Rhadamanthus.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;No,&rsquo; he said, with a stern gaze of his aristocratic
+eye.&nbsp; &lsquo;It is of no use for you to speak like
+that.&nbsp; The things are my property.&nbsp; I undertook to
+gratify you in what you might desire because you had saved my
+life.&nbsp; To go to a ball, you said.&nbsp; You might much more
+wisely have said anything else, but no; you said, to go to a
+ball.&nbsp; Very well&mdash;I have taken you to a ball.&nbsp; I
+have brought you back.&nbsp; The clothes were only the means, and
+I dispose of them my own way.&nbsp; Have I not a right
+to?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, sir,&rsquo; she said meekly.</p>
+<p>He gave the fire a stir, and lace and ribbons, and the twelve
+flounces, and the embroidery, and all the rest crackled and
+disappeared.&nbsp; He then put in her hands the butter basket she
+had brought to take on to her grandmother&rsquo;s, and
+accompanied her to the edge of the wood, where it merged in the
+undulating open country in which her granddame dwelt.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Now, Margery,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;here we
+part.&nbsp; I have performed my contract&mdash;at some
+awkwardness, if I was recognized.&nbsp; But never mind
+that.&nbsp; How do you feel&mdash;sleepy?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Not at all, sir,&rsquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That long nap refreshed you, eh?&nbsp; Now you must
+make me a promise.&nbsp; That if I require your presence at any
+time, you will come to me . . . I am a man of more than one
+mood,&rsquo; he went on with sudden solemnity; &lsquo;and I may
+have desperate need of you again, to deliver me from that
+darkness as of Death which sometimes encompasses me.&nbsp;
+Promise it, Margery&mdash;promise it; that, no matter what stands
+in the way, you will come to me if I require you.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I would have if you had not burnt my pretty
+clothes!&rsquo; she pouted.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah&mdash;ungrateful!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Indeed, then, I will promise, sir,&rsquo; she said from
+her heart.&nbsp; &lsquo;Wherever I am, if I have bodily strength
+I will come to you.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He pressed her hand.&nbsp; &lsquo;It is a solemn
+promise,&rsquo; he replied.&nbsp; &lsquo;Now I must go, for you
+know your way.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I shall hardly believe that it has not been all a
+dream!&rsquo; she said, with a childish instinct to cry at his
+withdrawal.&nbsp; &lsquo;There will be nothing left of last
+night&mdash;nothing of my dress, nothing of my pleasure, nothing
+of the place!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You shall remember it in this way,&rsquo; said
+he.&nbsp; &lsquo;We&rsquo;ll cut our initials on this tree as a
+memorial, so that whenever you walk this path you will see
+them.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Then with a knife he inscribed on the smooth bark of a beech
+tree the letters M.T., and underneath a large X.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What, have you no Christian name, sir?&rsquo; she
+said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, but I don&rsquo;t use it.&nbsp; Now, good-bye, my
+little friend.&mdash;What will you do with yourself to-day, when
+you are gone from me?&rsquo; he lingered to ask.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh&mdash;I shall go to my granny&rsquo;s,&rsquo; she
+replied with some gloom; &lsquo;and have breakfast, and dinner,
+and tea with her, I suppose; and in the evening I shall go home
+to Silverthorn Dairy, and perhaps Jim will come to meet me, and
+all will be the same as usual.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Who is Jim?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O, he&rsquo;s nobody&mdash;only the young man
+I&rsquo;ve got to marry some day.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What!&mdash;you engaged to be married?&mdash;Why
+didn&rsquo;t you tell me this before?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know, sir.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What is the young man&rsquo;s name?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;James Hayward.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What is he?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;A master lime-burner.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Engaged to a master lime-burner, and not a word of this
+to me!&nbsp; Margery, Margery! when shall a straightforward one
+of your sex be found!&nbsp; Subtle even in your simplicity!&nbsp;
+What mischief have you caused me to do, through not telling me
+this?&nbsp; I wouldn&rsquo;t have so endangered anybody&rsquo;s
+happiness for a thousand pounds.&nbsp; Wicked girl that you were;
+why didn&rsquo;t you tell me?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I thought I&rsquo;d better not!&rsquo; said Margery,
+beginning to be frightened.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But don&rsquo;t you see and understand that if you are
+already the property of a young man, and he were to find out this
+night&rsquo;s excursion, he may be angry with you and part from
+you for ever?&nbsp; With him already in the field I had no right
+to take you at all; he undoubtedly ought to have taken you; which
+really might have been arranged, if you had not deceived me by
+saying you had nobody.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery&rsquo;s face wore that aspect of woe which comes from
+the repentant consciousness of having been guilty of an
+enormity.&nbsp; &lsquo;But he wasn&rsquo;t good enough to take
+me, sir!&rsquo; she said, almost crying; &lsquo;and he
+isn&rsquo;t absolutely my master until I have married him, is
+he?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That&rsquo;s a subject I cannot go into.&nbsp; However,
+we must alter our tactics.&nbsp; Instead of advising you, as I
+did at first, to tell of this experience to your friends, I must
+now impress on you that it will be best to keep a silent tongue
+on the matter&mdash;perhaps for ever and ever.&nbsp; It may come
+right some day, and you may be able to say &ldquo;All&rsquo;s
+well that ends well.&rdquo;&nbsp; Now, good morning, my
+friend.&nbsp; Think of Jim, and forget me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah, perhaps I can&rsquo;t do that,&rsquo; she said,
+with a tear in her eye, and a full throat.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well&mdash;do your best.&nbsp; I can say no
+more.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He turned and retreated into the wood, and Margery, sighing,
+went on her way.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+<p>Between six and seven o&rsquo;clock in the evening of the same
+day a young man descended the hills into the valley of the Exe,
+at a point about midway between Silverthorn and the residence of
+Margery&rsquo;s grandmother, four miles to the east.</p>
+<p>He was a thoroughbred son of the country, as far removed from
+what is known as the provincial, as the latter is from the
+out-and-out gentleman of culture.&nbsp; His trousers and
+waistcoat were of fustian, almost white, but he wore a jacket of
+old-fashioned blue West-of-England cloth, so well preserved that
+evidently the article was relegated to a box whenever its owner
+engaged in such active occupations as he usually pursued.&nbsp;
+His complexion was fair, almost florid, and he had scarcely any
+beard.</p>
+<p>A novel attraction about this young man, which a glancing
+stranger would know nothing of, was a rare and curious freshness
+of atmosphere that appertained to him, to his clothes, to all his
+belongings, even to the room in which he had been sitting.&nbsp;
+It might almost have been said that by adding him and his
+implements to an over-crowded apartment you made it
+healthful.&nbsp; This resulted from his trade.&nbsp; He was a
+lime-burner; he handled lime daily; and in return the lime
+rendered him an incarnation of salubrity.&nbsp; His hair was dry,
+fair, and frizzled, the latter possibly by the operation of the
+same caustic agent.&nbsp; He carried as a walking-stick a green
+sapling, whose growth had been contorted to a corkscrew pattern
+by a twining honeysuckle.</p>
+<p>As he descended to the level ground of the water-meadows he
+cast his glance westward, with a frequency that revealed him to
+be in search of some object in the distance.&nbsp; It was rather
+difficult to do this, the low sunlight dazzling his eyes by
+glancing from the river away there, and from the
+&lsquo;carriers&rsquo; (as they were called) in his
+path&mdash;narrow artificial brooks for conducting the water over
+the grass.&nbsp; His course was something of a zigzag from the
+necessity of finding points in these carriers convenient for
+jumping.&nbsp; Thus peering and leaping and winding, he drew near
+the Exe, the central river of the miles-long mead.</p>
+<p>A moving spot became visible to him in the direction of his
+scrutiny, mixed up with the rays of the same river.&nbsp; The
+spot got nearer, and revealed itself to be a slight thing of pink
+cotton and shepherd&rsquo;s plaid, which pursued a path on the
+brink of the stream.&nbsp; The young man so shaped his trackless
+course as to impinge on the path a little ahead of this coloured
+form, and when he drew near her he smiled and reddened.&nbsp; The
+girl smiled back to him; but her smile had not the life in it
+that the young man&rsquo;s had shown.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My dear Margery&mdash;here I am!&rsquo; he said gladly
+in an undertone, as with a last leap he crossed the last
+intervening carrier, and stood at her side.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You&rsquo;ve come all the way from the kiln, on purpose
+to meet me, and you shouldn&rsquo;t have done it,&rsquo; she
+reproachfully returned.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;We finished there at four, so it was no trouble; and if
+it had been&mdash;why, I should ha&rsquo; come.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>A small sigh was the response.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What, you are not even so glad to see me as you would
+be to see your dog or cat?&rsquo; he continued.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Come, Mis&rsquo;ess Margery, this is rather hard.&nbsp;
+But, by George, how tired you dew look!&nbsp; Why, if you&rsquo;d
+been up all night your eyes couldn&rsquo;t be more like
+tea-saucers.&nbsp; You&rsquo;ve walked tew far, that&rsquo;s what
+it is.&nbsp; The weather is getting warm now, and the air of
+these low-lying meads is not strengthening in summer.&nbsp; I
+wish you lived up on higher ground with me, beside the
+kiln.&nbsp; You&rsquo;d get as strong as a hoss!&nbsp; Well,
+there; all that will come in time.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Instead of saying yes, the fair maid repressed another
+sigh.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What, won&rsquo;t it, then?&rsquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I suppose so,&rsquo; she answered.&nbsp; &lsquo;If it
+is to be, it is.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well said&mdash;very well said, my dear.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And if it isn&rsquo;t to be it isn&rsquo;t.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What?&nbsp; Who&rsquo;s been putting that into your
+head?&nbsp; Your grumpy granny, I suppose.&nbsp; However, how is
+she?&nbsp; Margery, I have been thinking to-day&mdash;in fact, I
+was thinking it yesterday and all the week&mdash;that really we
+might settle our little business this summer.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;This summer?&rsquo; she repeated, with some
+dismay.&nbsp; &lsquo;But the partnership?&nbsp; Remember it was
+not to be till after that was completed.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;There I have you!&rsquo; said he, taking the liberty to
+pat her shoulder, and the further liberty of advancing his hand
+behind it to the other.&nbsp; &lsquo;The partnership is
+settled.&nbsp; &rsquo;Tis &ldquo;Vine and Hayward,
+lime-burners,&rdquo; now, and &ldquo;Richard Vine&rdquo; no
+longer.&nbsp; Yes, Cousin Richard has settled it so, for a time
+at least, and &rsquo;tis to be painted on the carts this
+week&mdash;blue letters&mdash;yaller ground.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll
+boss one of &rsquo;em, and drive en round to your door as soon as
+the paint is dry, to show &rsquo;ee how it looks?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh, I am sure you needn&rsquo;t take that trouble, Jim;
+I can see it quite well enough in my mind,&rsquo; replied the
+young girl&mdash;not without a flitting accent of
+superiority.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Hullo,&rsquo; said Jim, taking her by the shoulders,
+and looking at her hard.&nbsp; &lsquo;What dew that bit of
+incivility mean?&nbsp; Now, Margery, let&rsquo;s sit down here,
+and have this cleared.&rsquo;&nbsp; He rapped with his stick upon
+the rail of a little bridge they were crossing, and seated
+himself firmly, leaving a place for her.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But I want to get home-along,&rsquo; dear Jim, she
+coaxed.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Fidgets.&nbsp; Sit down, there&rsquo;s a dear.&nbsp; I
+want a straightforward answer, if you please.&nbsp; In what
+month, and on what day of the month, will you marry
+me?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O, Jim,&rsquo; she said, sitting gingerly on the edge,
+&lsquo;that&rsquo;s too plain-spoken for you yet.&nbsp; Before I
+look at it in that business light I should have
+to&mdash;to&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But your father has settled it long ago, and you said
+it should be as soon as I became a partner.&nbsp; So, dear, you
+must not mind a plain man wanting a plain answer.&nbsp; Come,
+name your time.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She did not reply at once.&nbsp; What thoughts were passing
+through her brain during the interval?&nbsp; Not images raised by
+his words, but whirling figures of men and women in red and white
+and blue, reflected from a glassy floor, in movements timed by
+the thrilling beats of the Drum Polka.&nbsp; At last she said
+slowly, &lsquo;Jim, you don&rsquo;t know the world, and what a
+woman&rsquo;s wants can be.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But I can make you comfortable.&nbsp; I am in lodgings
+as yet, but I can have a house for the asking; and as to
+furniture, you shall choose of the best for yourself&mdash;the
+very best.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The best!&nbsp; Far are you from knowing what that
+is!&rsquo; said the little woman.&nbsp; &lsquo;There be ornaments
+such as you never dream of; work-tables that would set you in
+amaze; silver candlesticks, tea and coffee pots that would dazzle
+your eyes; tea-cups, and saucers, gilded all over with
+guinea-gold; heavy velvet curtains, gold clocks, pictures, and
+looking-glasses beyond your very dreams.&nbsp; So don&rsquo;t say
+I shall have the best.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;H&rsquo;m!&rsquo; said Jim gloomily; and fell into
+reflection.&nbsp; &lsquo;Where did you get those high notions
+from, Margery?&rsquo; he presently inquired.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;I&rsquo;ll swear you hadn&rsquo;t got &rsquo;em a week
+ago.&rsquo;&nbsp; She did not answer, and he added,
+&lsquo;<i>Yew</i> don&rsquo;t expect to have such things, I hope;
+deserve them as you may?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I was not exactly speaking of what I wanted,&rsquo; she
+said severely.&nbsp; &lsquo;I said, things a woman <i>could</i>
+want.&nbsp; And since you wish to know what I <i>can</i> want to
+quite satisfy me, I assure you I can want those!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You are a pink-and-white conundrum, Margery,&rsquo; he
+said; &lsquo;and I give you up for to-night.&nbsp; Anybody would
+think the devil had showed you all the kingdoms of the world
+since I saw you last!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She reddened.&nbsp; &lsquo;Perhaps he has!&rsquo; she
+murmured; then arose, he following her; and they soon reached
+Margery&rsquo;s home, approaching it from the lower or meadow
+side&mdash;the opposite to that of the garden top, where she had
+met the Baron.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You&rsquo;ll come in, won&rsquo;t you, Jim?&rsquo; she
+said, with more ceremony than heartiness.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No&mdash;I think not to-night,&rsquo; he
+answered.&nbsp; &lsquo;I&rsquo;ll consider what you&rsquo;ve
+said.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You are very good, Jim,&rsquo; she returned
+lightly.&nbsp; &lsquo;Good-bye.&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+<p>Jim thoughtfully retraced his steps.&nbsp; He was a village
+character, and he had a villager&rsquo;s simplicity: that is, the
+simplicity which comes from the lack of a complicated
+experience.&nbsp; But simple by nature he certainly was
+not.&nbsp; Among the rank and file of rustics he was quite a
+Talleyrand, or rather had been one, till he lost a good deal of
+his self-command by falling in love.</p>
+<p>Now, however, that the charming object of his distraction was
+out of sight he could deliberate, and measure, and weigh things
+with some approach to keenness.&nbsp; The substance of his
+queries was, What change had come over Margery&mdash;whence these
+new notions?</p>
+<p>Ponder as he would he could evolve no answer save one, which,
+eminently unsatisfactory as it was, he felt it would be
+unreasonable not to accept: that she was simply skittish and
+ambitious by nature, and would not be hunted into matrimony till
+he had provided a well-adorned home.</p>
+<p>Jim retrod the miles to the kiln, and looked to the
+fires.&nbsp; The kiln stood in a peculiar, interesting, even
+impressive spot.&nbsp; It was at the end of a short ravine in a
+limestone formation, and all around was an open hilly down.&nbsp;
+The nearest house was that of Jim&rsquo;s cousin and partner,
+which stood on the outskirts of the down beside the
+turnpike-road.&nbsp; From this house a little lane wound between
+the steep escarpments of the ravine till it reached the kiln,
+which faced down the miniature valley, commanding it as a fort
+might command a defile.</p>
+<p>The idea of a fort in this association owed little to
+imagination.&nbsp; For on the nibbled green steep above the kiln
+stood a bye-gone, worn-out specimen of such an erection, huge,
+impressive, and difficult to scale even now in its decay.&nbsp;
+It was a British castle or entrenchment, with triple rings of
+defence, rising roll behind roll, their outlines cutting sharply
+against the sky, and Jim&rsquo;s kiln nearly undermining their
+base.&nbsp; When the lime-kiln flared up in the night, which it
+often did, its fires lit up the front of these ramparts to a
+great majesty.&nbsp; They were old friends of his, and while
+keeping up the heat through the long darkness, as it was
+sometimes his duty to do, he would imagine the dancing lights and
+shades about the stupendous earthwork to be the forms of those
+giants who (he supposed) had heaped it up.&nbsp; Often he
+clambered upon it, and walked about the summit, thinking out the
+problems connected with his business, his partner, his future,
+his Margery.</p>
+<p>It was what he did this evening, continuing the meditation on
+the young girl&rsquo;s manner that he had begun upon the road,
+and still, as then, finding no clue to the change.</p>
+<p>While thus engaged he observed a man coming up the ravine to
+the kiln.&nbsp; Business messages were almost invariably left at
+the house below, and Jim watched the man with the interest
+excited by a belief that he had come on a personal matter.&nbsp;
+On nearer approach Jim recognized him as the gardener at Mount
+Lodge some miles away.&nbsp; If this meant business, the Baron
+(of whose arrival Jim had vaguely heard) was a new and unexpected
+customer.</p>
+<p>It meant nothing else, apparently.&nbsp; The man&rsquo;s
+errand was simply to inform Jim that the Baron required a load of
+lime for the garden.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You might have saved yourself trouble by leaving word
+at Mr. Vine&rsquo;s,&rsquo; said Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I was to see you personally,&rsquo; said the gardener,
+&lsquo;and to say that the Baron would like to inquire of you
+about the different qualities of lime proper for such
+purposes.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Couldn&rsquo;t you tell him yourself?&rsquo; said
+Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;He said I was to tell you that,&rsquo; replied the
+gardener; &lsquo;and it wasn&rsquo;t for me to
+interfere.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>No motive other than the ostensible one could possibly be
+conjectured by Jim Hayward at this time; and the next morning he
+started with great pleasure, in his best business suit of
+clothes.&nbsp; By eleven o&rsquo;clock he and his horse and cart
+had arrived on the Baron&rsquo;s premises, and the lime was
+deposited where directed; an exceptional spot, just within view
+of the windows of the south front.</p>
+<p>Baron von Xanten, pale and melancholy, was sauntering in the
+sun on the slope between the house and the
+all-the-year-round.&nbsp; He looked across to where Jim and the
+gardener were standing, and the identity of Hayward being
+established by what he brought, the Baron came down, and the
+gardener withdrew.</p>
+<p>The Baron&rsquo;s first inquiries were, as Jim had been led to
+suppose they would be, on the exterminating effects of lime upon
+slugs and snails in its different conditions of slaked and
+unslaked, ground and in the lump.&nbsp; He appeared to be much
+interested by Jim&rsquo;s explanations, and eyed the young man
+closely whenever he had an opportunity.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And I hope trade is prosperous with you this
+year,&rsquo; said the Baron.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Very, my noble lord,&rsquo; replied Jim, who, in his
+uncertainty on the proper method of address, wisely concluded
+that it was better to err by giving too much honour than by
+giving too little.&nbsp; &lsquo;In short, trade is looking so
+well that I&rsquo;ve become a partner in the firm.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Indeed; I am glad to hear it.&nbsp; So now you are
+settled in life.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well, my lord; I am hardly settled, even now.&nbsp; For
+I&rsquo;ve got to finish it&mdash;I mean, to get
+married.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That&rsquo;s an easy matter, compared with the
+partnership.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Now a man might think so, my baron,&rsquo; said Jim,
+getting more confidential.&nbsp; &lsquo;But the real truth is,
+&rsquo;tis the hardest part of all for me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Your suit prospers, I hope?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It don&rsquo;t,&rsquo; said Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;It
+don&rsquo;t at all just at present.&nbsp; In short, I can&rsquo;t
+for the life o&rsquo; me think what&rsquo;s come over the young
+woman lately.&rsquo;&nbsp; And he fell into deep reflection.</p>
+<p>Though Jim did not observe it, the Baron&rsquo;s brow became
+shadowed with self-reproach as he heard those simple words, and
+his eyes had a look of pity.&nbsp; &lsquo;Indeed&mdash;since
+when?&rsquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Since yesterday, my noble lord.&rsquo;&nbsp; Jim spoke
+meditatively.&nbsp; He was resolving upon a bold stroke.&nbsp;
+Why not make a confidant of this kind gentleman, instead of the
+parson, as he had intended?&nbsp; The thought was no sooner
+conceived than acted on.&nbsp; &lsquo;My lord,&rsquo; he resumed,
+&lsquo;I have heard that you are a nobleman of great scope and
+talent, who has seen more strange countries and characters than I
+have ever heard of, and know the insides of men well.&nbsp;
+Therefore I would fain put a question to your noble lordship, if
+I may so trouble you, and having nobody else in the world who
+could inform me so trewly.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Any advice I can give is at your service,
+Hayward.&nbsp; What do you wish to know?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is this, my baron.&nbsp; What can I do to bring down
+a young woman&rsquo;s ambition that&rsquo;s got to such a
+towering height there&rsquo;s no reaching it or compassing it:
+how get her to be pleased with me and my station as she used to
+be when I first knew her?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Truly, that&rsquo;s a hard question, my man.&nbsp; What
+does she aspire to?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;She&rsquo;s got a craze for fine furniture.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;How long has she had it?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Only just now.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The Baron seemed still more to experience regret.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What furniture does she specially covet?&rsquo; he
+asked.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Silver candlesticks, work-tables, looking-glasses, gold
+tea-things, silver tea-pots, gold clocks, curtains, pictures, and
+I don&rsquo;t know what all&mdash;things I shall never get if I
+live to be a hundred&mdash;not so much that I couldn&rsquo;t
+raise the money to buy &rsquo;em, as that to put it to other
+uses, or save it for a rainy day.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You think the possession of those articles would make
+her happy?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I really think they might, my lord.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Good.&nbsp; Open your pocket-book and write as I tell
+you.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim in some astonishment did as commanded, and elevating his
+pocket-book against the garden-wall, thoroughly moistened his
+pencil, and wrote at the Baron&rsquo;s dictation:</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Pair of silver candlesticks: inlaid work-table and
+work-box: one large mirror: two small ditto: one gilt china tea
+and coffee service: one silver tea-pot, coffee-pot, sugar-basin,
+jug, and dozen spoons: French clock: pair of curtains: six large
+pictures.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Now,&rsquo; said the Baron, &lsquo;tear out that leaf
+and give it to me.&nbsp; Keep a close tongue about this; go home,
+and don&rsquo;t be surprised at anything that may come to your
+door.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But, my noble lord, you don&rsquo;t mean that your
+lordship is going to give&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Never mind what I am going to do.&nbsp; Only keep your
+own counsel.&nbsp; I perceive that, though a plain countryman,
+you are by no means deficient in tact and understanding.&nbsp; If
+sending these things to you gives me pleasure, why should you
+object?&nbsp; The fact is, Hayward, I occasionally take an
+interest in people, and like to do a little for them.&nbsp; I
+take an interest in you.&nbsp; Now go home, and a week hence
+invite Marg&mdash;the young woman and her father, to tea with
+you.&nbsp; The rest is in your own hands.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>A question often put to Jim in after times was why it had not
+occurred to him at once that the Baron&rsquo;s liberal conduct
+must have been dictated by something more personal than sudden
+spontaneous generosity to him, a stranger.&nbsp; To which Jim
+always answered that, admitting the existence of such generosity,
+there had appeared nothing remarkable in the Baron selecting
+himself as its object.&nbsp; The Baron had told him that he took
+an interest in him; and self-esteem, even with the most modest,
+is usually sufficient to over-ride any little difficulty that
+might occur to an outsider in accounting for a preference.&nbsp;
+He moreover considered that foreign noblemen, rich and eccentric,
+might have habits of acting which were quite at variance with
+those of their English compeers.</p>
+<p>So he drove off homeward with a lighter heart than he had
+known for several days.&nbsp; To have a foreign gentleman take a
+fancy to him&mdash;what a triumph to a plain sort of fellow, who
+had scarcely expected the Baron to look in his face.&nbsp; It
+would be a fine story to tell Margery when the Baron gave him
+liberty to speak out.</p>
+<p>Jim lodged at the house of his cousin and partner, Richard
+Vine, a widower of fifty odd years.&nbsp; Having failed in the
+development of a household of direct descendants this tradesman
+had been glad to let his chambers to his much younger relative,
+when the latter entered on the business of lime manufacture; and
+their intimacy had led to a partnership.&nbsp; Jim lived
+upstairs; his partner lived down, and the furniture of all the
+rooms was so plain and old fashioned as to excite the special
+dislike of Miss Margery Tucker, and even to prejudice her against
+Jim for tolerating it.&nbsp; Not only were the chairs and tables
+queer, but, with due regard to the principle that a man&rsquo;s
+surroundings should bear the impress of that man&rsquo;s life and
+occupation, the chief ornaments of the dwelling were a curious
+collection of calcinations, that had been discovered from time to
+time in the lime-kiln&mdash;misshapen ingots of strange
+substance, some of them like Pompeian remains.</p>
+<p>The head of the firm was a quiet-living, narrow-minded, though
+friendly, man of fifty; and he took a serious interest in
+Jim&rsquo;s love-suit, frequently inquiring how it progressed,
+and assuring Jim that if he chose to marry he might have all the
+upper floor at a low rent, he, Mr. Vine, contenting himself
+entirely with the ground level.&nbsp; It had been so convenient
+for discussing business matters to have Jim in the same house,
+that he did not wish any change to be made in consequence of a
+change in Jim&rsquo;s domestic estate.&nbsp; Margery knew of this
+wish, and of Jim&rsquo;s concurrent feeling; and did not like the
+idea at all.</p>
+<p>About four days after the young man&rsquo;s interview with the
+Baron, there drew up in front of Jim&rsquo;s house at noon a
+waggon laden with cases and packages, large and small.&nbsp; They
+were all addressed to &lsquo;Mr. Hayward,&rsquo; and they had
+come from the largest furnishing ware-houses in that part of
+England.</p>
+<p>Three-quarters of an hour were occupied in getting the cases
+to Jim&rsquo;s rooms.&nbsp; The wary Jim did not show the
+amazement he felt at his patron&rsquo;s munificence; and
+presently the senior partner came into the passage, and wondered
+what was lumbering upstairs.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh&mdash;it&rsquo;s only some things of mine,&rsquo;
+said Jim coolly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Bearing upon the coming event&mdash;eh?&rsquo; said his
+partner.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Exactly,&rsquo; replied Jim.</p>
+<p>Mr. Vine, with some astonishment at the number of cases,
+shortly after went away to the kiln; whereupon Jim shut himself
+into his rooms, and there he might have been heard ripping up and
+opening boxes with a cautious hand, afterwards appearing outside
+the door with them empty, and carrying them off to the
+outhouse.</p>
+<p>A triumphant look lit up his face when, a little later in the
+afternoon, he sent into the vale to the dairy, and invited
+Margery and her father to his house to supper.</p>
+<p>She was not unsociable that day, and, her father expressing a
+hard and fast acceptance of the invitation, she perforce agreed
+to go with him.&nbsp; Meanwhile at home, Jim made himself as
+mysteriously busy as before in those rooms of his, and when his
+partner returned he too was asked to join in the supper.</p>
+<p>At dusk Hayward went to the door, where he stood till he heard
+the voices of his guests from the direction of the low grounds,
+now covered with their frequent fleece of fog.&nbsp; The voices
+grew more distinct, and then on the white surface of the fog
+there appeared two trunkless heads, from which bodies and a horse
+and cart gradually extended as the approaching pair rose towards
+the house.</p>
+<p>When they had entered Jim pressed Margery&rsquo;s hand and
+conducted her up to his rooms, her father waiting below to say a
+few words to the senior lime-burner.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Bless me,&rsquo; said Jim to her, on entering the
+sitting-room; &lsquo;I quite forgot to get a light beforehand;
+but I&rsquo;ll have one in a jiffy.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery stood in the middle of the dark room, while Jim struck
+a match; and then the young girl&rsquo;s eyes were conscious of a
+burst of light, and the rise into being of a pair of handsome
+silver candlesticks containing two candles that Jim was in the
+act of lighting.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why&mdash;where&mdash;you have candlesticks like
+that?&rsquo; said Margery.&nbsp; Her eyes flew round the room as
+the growing candle-flames showed other articles.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Pictures too&mdash;and lovely china&mdash;why I knew
+nothing of this, I declare.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes&mdash;a few things that came to me by
+accident,&rsquo; said Jim in quiet tones.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And a great gold clock under a glass, and a cupid
+swinging for a pendulum; and O what a lovely
+work-table&mdash;woods of every colour&mdash;and a work-box to
+match.&nbsp; May I look inside that work-box, Jim?&mdash;whose is
+it?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O yes; look at it, of course.&nbsp; It is a poor enough
+thing, but &rsquo;tis mine; and it will belong to the woman I
+marry, whoever she may be, as well as all the other things
+here.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And the curtains and the looking-glasses: why I declare
+I can see myself in a hundred places.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That tea-set,&rsquo; said Jim, placidly pointing to a
+gorgeous china service and a large silver tea-pot on the side
+table, &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t use at present, being a bachelor-man;
+but, says I to myself, &ldquo;whoever I marry will want some such
+things for giving her parties; or I can sell em&rdquo;&mdash;but
+I haven&rsquo;t took steps for&rsquo;t yet&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Sell &rsquo;em&mdash;no, I should think not,&rsquo;
+said Margery with earnest reproach.&nbsp; &lsquo;Why, I hope you
+wouldn&rsquo;t be so foolish!&nbsp; Why, this is exactly the kind
+of thing I was thinking of when I told you of the things women
+could want&mdash;of course not meaning myself particularly.&nbsp;
+I had no idea that you had such valuable&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery was unable to speak coherently, so much was she amazed
+at the wealth of Jim&rsquo;s possessions.</p>
+<p>At this moment her father and the lime-burner came upstairs;
+and to appear womanly and proper to Mr. Vine, Margery repressed
+the remainder of her surprise.</p>
+<p>As for the two elderly worthies, it was not till they entered
+the room and sat down that their slower eyes discerned anything
+brilliant in the appointments.&nbsp; Then one of them stole a
+glance at some article, and the other at another; but each being
+unwilling to express his wonder in the presence of his
+neighbours, they received the objects before them with quite an
+accustomed air; the lime-burner inwardly trying to conjecture
+what all this meant, and the dairyman musing that if Jim&rsquo;s
+business allowed him to accumulate at this rate, the sooner
+Margery became his wife the better.&nbsp; Margery retreated to
+the work-table, work-box, and tea-service, which she examined
+with hushed exclamations.</p>
+<p>An entertainment thus surprisingly begun could not fail to
+progress well.&nbsp; Whenever Margery&rsquo;s crusty old father
+felt the need of a civil sentence, the flash of Jim&rsquo;s fancy
+articles inspired him to one; while the lime-burner, having
+reasoned away his first ominous thought that all this had come
+out of the firm, also felt proud and blithe.</p>
+<p>Jim accompanied his dairy friends part of the way home before
+they mounted.&nbsp; Her father, finding that Jim wanted to speak
+to her privately, and that she exhibited some elusiveness, turned
+to Margery and said; &lsquo;Come, come, my lady; no more of this
+nonsense.&nbsp; You just step behind with that young man, and I
+and the cart will wait for you.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery, a little scared at her father&rsquo;s peremptoriness,
+obeyed.&nbsp; It was plain that Jim had won the old man by that
+night&rsquo;s stroke, if he had not won her.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I know what you are going to say, Jim,&rsquo; she
+began, less ardently now, for she was no longer under the novel
+influence of the shining silver and glass.&nbsp; &lsquo;Well, as
+you desire it, and as my father desires it, and as I suppose it
+will be the best course for me, I will fix the day&mdash;not this
+evening, but as soon as I can think it over.&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+<p>Notwithstanding a press of business, Jim went and did his duty
+in thanking the Baron.&nbsp; The latter saw him in his
+fishing-tackle room, an apartment littered with every appliance
+that a votary of the rod could require.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And when is the wedding-day to be, Hayward?&rsquo; the
+Baron asked, after Jim had told him that matters were
+settled.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is not quite certain yet, my noble lord,&rsquo; said
+Jim cheerfully.&nbsp; &lsquo;But I hope &rsquo;twill not be long
+after the time when God A&rsquo;mighty christens the little
+apples.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And when is that?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;St. Swithin&rsquo;s&mdash;the middle of July.&nbsp;
+&rsquo;Tis to be some time in that month, she tells
+me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>When Jim was gone the Baron seemed meditative.&nbsp; He went
+out, ascended the mount, and entered the weather-screen, where he
+looked at the seats, as though re-enacting in his fancy the scene
+of that memorable morning of fog.&nbsp; He turned his eyes to the
+angle of the shelter, round which Margery had suddenly appeared
+like a vision, and it was plain that he would not have minded her
+appearing there then.&nbsp; The juncture had indeed been such an
+impressive and critical one that she must have seemed rather a
+heavenly messenger than a passing milkmaid, more especially to a
+man like the Baron, who, despite the mystery of his origin and
+life, revealed himself to be a melancholy, emotional
+character&mdash;the Jacques of this forest and stream.</p>
+<p>Behind the mount the ground rose yet higher, ascending to a
+plantation which sheltered the house.&nbsp; The Baron strolled up
+here, and bent his gaze over the distance.&nbsp; The valley of
+the Exe lay before him, with its shining river, the brooks that
+fed it, and the trickling springs that fed the brooks.&nbsp; The
+situation of Margery&rsquo;s house was visible, though not the
+house itself; and the Baron gazed that way for an infinitely long
+time, till, remembering himself, he moved on.</p>
+<p>Instead of returning to the house he went along the ridge till
+he arrived at the verge of Chillington Wood, and in the same
+desultory manner roamed under the trees, not pausing till he had
+come to Three-Walks-End, and the hollow elm hard by.&nbsp; He
+peeped in at the rift.&nbsp; In the soft dry layer of touch-wood
+that floored the hollow Margery&rsquo;s tracks were still
+visible, as she had made them there when dressing for the
+ball.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Little Margery!&rsquo; murmured the Baron.</p>
+<p>In a moment he thought better of this mood, and turned to go
+home.&nbsp; But behold, a form stood behind him&mdash;that of the
+girl whose name had been on his lips.</p>
+<p>She was in utter confusion.&nbsp; &lsquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;did
+not know you were here, sir!&rsquo; she began.&nbsp; &lsquo;I was
+out for a little walk.&rsquo;&nbsp; She could get no further; her
+eyes filled with tears.&nbsp; That spice of wilfulness, even
+hardness, which characterized her in Jim&rsquo;s company,
+magically disappeared in the presence of the Baron.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Never mind, never mind,&rsquo; said he, masking under a
+severe manner whatever he felt.&nbsp; &lsquo;The meeting is
+awkward, and ought not to have occurred, especially if as I
+suppose, you are shortly to be married to James Hayward.&nbsp;
+But it cannot be helped now.&nbsp; You had no idea I was here, of
+course.&nbsp; Neither had I of seeing you.&nbsp; Remember you
+cannot be too careful,&rsquo; continued the Baron, in the same
+grave tone; &lsquo;and I strongly request you as a friend to do
+your utmost to avoid meetings like this.&nbsp; When you saw me
+before I turned, why did you not go away?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I did not see you, sir.&nbsp; I did not think of seeing
+you.&nbsp; I was walking this way, and I only looked in to see
+the tree.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That shows you have been thinking of things you should
+not think of,&rsquo; returned the Baron.&nbsp; &lsquo;Good
+morning.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery could answer nothing.&nbsp; A browbeaten glance,
+almost of misery, was all she gave him.&nbsp; He took a slow step
+away from her; then turned suddenly back and, stooping,
+impulsively kissed her cheek, taking her as much by surprise as
+ever a woman was taken in her life.</p>
+<p>Immediately after he went off with a flushed face and rapid
+strides, which he did not check till he was within his own
+boundaries.</p>
+<p>The haymaking season now set in vigorously, and the
+weir-hatches were all drawn in the meads to drain off the
+water.&nbsp; The streams ran themselves dry, and there was no
+longer any difficulty in walking about among them.&nbsp; The
+Baron could very well witness from the elevations about his house
+the activity which followed these preliminaries.&nbsp; The white
+shirt-sleeves of the mowers glistened in the sun, the scythes
+flashed, voices echoed, snatches of song floated about, and there
+were glimpses of red waggon-wheels, purple gowns, and
+many-coloured handkerchiefs.</p>
+<p>The Baron had been told that the haymaking was to be followed
+by the wedding, and had he gone down the vale to the dairy he
+would have had evidence to that effect.&nbsp; Dairyman
+Tucker&rsquo;s house was in a whirlpool of bustle, and among
+other difficulties was that of turning the cheese-room into a
+genteel apartment for the time being, and hiding the awkwardness
+of having to pass through the milk-house to get to the parlour
+door.&nbsp; These household contrivances appeared to interest
+Margery much more than the great question of dressing for the
+ceremony and the ceremony itself.&nbsp; In all relating to that
+she showed an indescribable backwardness, which later on was well
+remembered.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;If it were only somebody else, and I was one of the
+bridesmaids, I really think I should like it better!&rsquo; she
+murmured one afternoon.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Away with thee&mdash;that&rsquo;s only your
+shyness!&rsquo; said one of the milkmaids.</p>
+<p>It is said that about this time the Baron seemed to feel the
+effects of solitude strongly.&nbsp; Solitude revives the simple
+instincts of primitive man, and lonely country nooks afford rich
+soil for wayward emotions.&nbsp; Moreover, idleness waters those
+unconsidered impulses which a short season of turmoil would stamp
+out.&nbsp; It is difficult to speak with any exactness of the
+bearing of such conditions on the mind of the Baron&mdash;a man
+of whom so little was ever truly known&mdash;but there is no
+doubt that his mind ran much on Margery as an individual, without
+reference to her rank or quality, or to the question whether she
+would marry Jim Hayward that summer.&nbsp; She was the single
+lovely human thing within his present horizon, for he lived in
+absolute seclusion; and her image unduly affected him.</p>
+<p>But, leaving conjecture, let me state what happened.</p>
+<p>One Saturday evening, two or three weeks after his accidental
+meeting with her in the wood, he wrote the note
+following:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear
+Margery</span>,&mdash;</p>
+<p>You must not suppose that, because I spoke somewhat severely
+to you at our chance encounter by the hollow tree, I have any
+feeling against you.&nbsp; Far from it.&nbsp; Now, as ever, I
+have the most grateful sense of your considerate kindness to me
+on a momentous occasion which shall be nameless.</p>
+<p>You solemnly promised to come and see me whenever I should
+send for you.&nbsp; Can you call for five minutes as soon as
+possible, and disperse those plaguy glooms from which I am so
+unfortunate as to suffer?&nbsp; If you refuse I will not answer
+for the consequences.</p>
+<p>I shall be in the summer shelter of the mount to-morrow
+morning at half-past ten.&nbsp; If you come I shall be
+grateful.&nbsp; I have also something for you.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">Yours,<br />
+X.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>In keeping with the tenor of this epistle the desponding,
+self-oppressed Baron ascended the mount on Sunday morning and sat
+down.&nbsp; There was nothing here to signify exactly the hour,
+but before the church bells had begun he heard somebody
+approaching at the back.&nbsp; The light footstep moved timidly,
+first to one recess, and then to another; then to the third,
+where he sat in the shade.&nbsp; Poor Margery stood before
+him.</p>
+<p>She looked worn and weary, and her little shoes and the skirts
+of her dress were covered with dust.&nbsp; The weather was
+sultry, the sun being already high and powerful, and rain had not
+fallen for weeks.&nbsp; The Baron, who walked little, had thought
+nothing of the effects of this heat and drought in inducing
+fatigue.&nbsp; A distance which had been but a reasonable
+exercise on a foggy morning was a drag for Margery now.&nbsp; She
+was out of breath; and anxiety, even unhappiness was written on
+her everywhere.</p>
+<p>He rose to his feet, and took her hand.&nbsp; He was vexed
+with himself at sight of her.&nbsp; &lsquo;My dear little
+girl!&rsquo; he said.&nbsp; &lsquo;You are tired&mdash;you should
+not have come.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You sent for me, sir; and I was afraid you were ill;
+and my promise to you was sacred.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He bent over her, looking upon her downcast face, and still
+holding her hand; then he dropped it, and took a pace or two
+backwards.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It was a whim, nothing more,&rsquo; he said,
+sadly.&nbsp; &lsquo;I wanted to see my little friend, to express
+good wishes&mdash;and to present her with this.&rsquo;&nbsp; He
+held forward a small morocco case, and showed her how to open it,
+disclosing a pretty locket, set with pearls.&nbsp; &lsquo;It is
+intended as a wedding present,&rsquo; he continued.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;To be returned to me again if you do not marry Jim this
+summer&mdash;it is to be this summer, I think?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It was, sir,&rsquo; she said with agitation.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;But it is so no longer.&nbsp; And, therefore, I cannot
+take this.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What do you say?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It was to have been to-day; but now it cannot
+be.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The wedding to-day&mdash;Sunday?&rsquo; he cried.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;We fixed Sunday not to hinder much time at this busy
+season of the year,&rsquo; replied she.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And have you, then, put it off&mdash;surely
+not?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You sent for me, and I have come,&rsquo; she answered
+humbly, like an obedient familiar in the employ of some great
+enchanter.&nbsp; Indeed, the Baron&rsquo;s power over this
+innocent girl was curiously like enchantment, or mesmeric
+influence.&nbsp; It was so masterful that the sexual element was
+almost eliminated.&nbsp; It was that of Prospero over the gentle
+Ariel.&nbsp; And yet it was probably only that of the cosmopolite
+over the recluse, of the experienced man over the simple
+maid.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You have come&mdash;on your wedding-day!&mdash;O
+Margery, this is a mistake.&nbsp; Of course, you should not have
+obeyed me, since, though I thought your wedding would be soon, I
+did not know it was to-day.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I promised you, sir; and I would rather keep my promise
+to you than be married to Jim.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That must not be&mdash;the feeling is wrong!&rsquo; he
+murmured, looking at the distant hills.&nbsp; &lsquo;There seems
+to be a fate in all this; I get out of the frying-pan into the
+fire.&nbsp; What a recompense to you for your goodness!&nbsp; The
+fact is, I was out of health and out of spirits, so I&mdash;but
+no more of that.&nbsp; Now instantly to repair this tremendous
+blunder that we have made&mdash;that&rsquo;s the
+question.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>After a pause, he went on hurriedly, &lsquo;Walk down the
+hill; get into the road.&nbsp; By that time I shall be there with
+a phaeton.&nbsp; We may get back in time.&nbsp; What time is it
+now?&nbsp; If not, no doubt the wedding can be to-morrow; so all
+will come right again.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t cry, my dear girl.&nbsp;
+Keep the locket, of course&mdash;you&rsquo;ll marry
+Jim.&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+<p>He hastened down towards the stables, and she went on as
+directed.&nbsp; It seemed as if he must have put in the horse
+himself, so quickly did he reappear with the phaeton on the open
+road.&nbsp; Margery silently took her seat, and the Baron seemed
+cut to the quick with self-reproach as he noticed the listless
+indifference with which she acted.&nbsp; There was no doubt that
+in her heart she had preferred obeying the apparently important
+mandate that morning to becoming Jim&rsquo;s wife; but there was
+no less doubt that had the Baron left her alone she would quietly
+have gone to the altar.</p>
+<p>He drove along furiously, in a cloud of dust.&nbsp; There was
+much to contemplate in that peaceful Sunday morning&mdash;the
+windless trees and fields, the shaking sunlight, the pause in
+human stir.&nbsp; Yet neither of them heeded, and thus they drew
+near to the dairy.&nbsp; His first expressed intention had been
+to go indoors with her, but this he abandoned as impolitic in the
+highest degree.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You may be soon enough,&rsquo; he said, springing down,
+and helping her to follow.&nbsp; &lsquo;Tell the truth: say you
+were sent for to receive a wedding present&mdash;that it was a
+mistake on my part&mdash;a mistake on yours; and I think
+they&rsquo;ll forgive . . . And, Margery, my last request to you
+is this: that if I send for you again, you do not come.&nbsp;
+Promise solemnly, my dear girl, that any such request shall be
+unheeded.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Her lips moved, but the promise was not articulated.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;O, sir, I cannot promise it!&rsquo; she said at last.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But you must; your salvation may depend on it!&rsquo;
+he insisted almost sternly.&nbsp; &lsquo;You don&rsquo;t know
+what I am.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Then, sir, I promise,&rsquo; she replied.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Now leave me to myself, please, and I&rsquo;ll go indoors
+and manage matters.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He turned the horse and drove away, but only for a little
+distance.&nbsp; Out of sight he pulled rein suddenly.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Only to go back and propose it to her, and she&rsquo;d
+come!&rsquo; he murmured.</p>
+<p>He stood up in the phaeton, and by this means he could see
+over the hedge.&nbsp; Margery still sat listlessly in the same
+place; there was not a lovelier flower in the field.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;No,&rsquo; he said; &lsquo;no,
+no&mdash;never!&rsquo;&nbsp; He reseated himself, and the wheels
+sped lightly back over the soft dust to Mount Lodge.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Margery had not moved.&nbsp; If the Baron could
+dissimulate on the side of severity she could dissimulate on the
+side of calm.&nbsp; He did not know what had been veiled by the
+quiet promise to manage matters indoors.&nbsp; Rising at length
+she first turned away from the house; and, by-and-by, having
+apparently forgotten till then that she carried it in her hand,
+she opened the case, and looked at the locket.&nbsp; This seemed
+to give her courage.&nbsp; She turned, set her face towards the
+dairy in good earnest, and though her heart faltered when the
+gates came in sight, she kept on and drew near the door.</p>
+<p>On the threshold she stood listening.&nbsp; The house was
+silent.&nbsp; Decorations were visible in the passage, and also
+the carefully swept and sanded path to the gate, which she was to
+have trodden as a bride; but the sparrows hopped over it as if it
+were abandoned; and all appeared to have been checked at its
+climacteric, like a clock stopped on the strike.&nbsp; Till this
+moment of confronting the suspended animation of the scene she
+had not realized the full shock of the convulsion which her
+disappearance must have caused.&nbsp; It is quite
+certain&mdash;apart from her own repeated assurances to that
+effect in later years&mdash;that in hastening off that morning to
+her sudden engagement, Margery had not counted the cost of such
+an enterprise; while a dim notion that she might get back again
+in time for the ceremony, if the message meant nothing serious,
+should also be mentioned in her favour.&nbsp; But, upon the
+whole, she had obeyed the call with an unreasoning obedience
+worthy of a disciple in primitive times.&nbsp; A conviction that
+the Baron&rsquo;s life might depend upon her presence&mdash;for
+she had by this time divined the tragical event she had
+interrupted on the foggy morning&mdash;took from her all will to
+judge and consider calmly.&nbsp; The simple affairs of her and
+hers seemed nothing beside the possibility of harm to him.</p>
+<p>A well-known step moved on the sanded floor within, and she
+went forward.&nbsp; That she saw her father&rsquo;s face before
+her, just within the door, can hardly be said: it was rather
+Reproach and Rage in a human mask.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What! ye have dared to come back alive, hussy, to look
+upon the dupery you have practised on honest people!&nbsp;
+You&rsquo;ve mortified us all; I don&rsquo;t want to see
+&rsquo;ee; I don&rsquo;t want to hear &rsquo;ee; I don&rsquo;t
+want to know anything!&rsquo;&nbsp; He walked up and down the
+room, unable to command himself.&nbsp; &lsquo;Nothing but being
+dead could have excused &rsquo;ee for not meeting and marrying
+that man this morning; and yet you have the brazen impudence to
+stand there as well as ever!&nbsp; What be you here
+for?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I&rsquo;ve come back to marry Jim, if he wants me
+to,&rsquo; she said faintly.&nbsp; &lsquo;And if
+not&mdash;perhaps so much the better.&nbsp; I was sent for this
+morning early.&nbsp; I thought&mdash;.&rsquo;&nbsp; She
+halted.&nbsp; To say that she had thought a man&rsquo;s death
+might happen by his own hand if she did not go to him, would
+never do.&nbsp; &lsquo;I was obliged to go,&rsquo; she
+said.&nbsp; &lsquo;I had given my word.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you tell us then, so that the wedding
+could be put off, without making fools o&rsquo; us?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Because I was afraid you wouldn&rsquo;t let me go, and
+I had made up my mind to go.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;To go where?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She was silent; till she said, &lsquo;I will tell Jim all, and
+why it was; and if he&rsquo;s any friend of mine he&rsquo;ll
+excuse me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Not Jim&mdash;he&rsquo;s no such fool.&nbsp; Jim had
+put all ready for you, Jim had called at your house, a-dressed up
+in his new wedding clothes, and a-smiling like the sun; Jim had
+told the parson, had got the ringers in tow, and the clerk
+awaiting; and then&mdash;you was <i>gone</i>!&nbsp; Then Jim
+turned as pale as rendlewood, and busted out, &ldquo;If she
+don&rsquo;t marry me to-day,&rdquo; &rsquo;a said, &ldquo;she
+don&rsquo;t marry me at all!&nbsp; No; let her look elsewhere for
+a husband.&nbsp; For tew years I&rsquo;ve put up with her haughty
+tricks and her takings,&rdquo; &rsquo;a said.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve droudged and I&rsquo;ve traipsed, I&rsquo;ve
+bought and I&rsquo;ve sold, all wi&rsquo; an eye to her;
+I&rsquo;ve suffered horseflesh,&rdquo; he says&mdash;yes, them
+was his noble words&mdash;&ldquo;but I&rsquo;ll suffer it no
+longer.&nbsp; She shall go!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Jim,&rdquo; says
+I, &ldquo;you be a man.&nbsp; If she&rsquo;s alive, I commend
+&rsquo;ee; if she&rsquo;s dead, pity my old age.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;She isn&rsquo;t dead,&rdquo; says he; &ldquo;for
+I&rsquo;ve just heard she was seen walking off across the fields
+this morning, looking all of a scornful triumph.&rdquo;&nbsp; He
+turned round and went, and the rest o&rsquo; the neighbours went;
+and here be I left to the reproach o&rsquo;t.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;He was too hasty,&rsquo; murmured Margery.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;For now he&rsquo;s said this I can&rsquo;t marry him
+to-morrow, as I might ha&rsquo; done; and perhaps so much the
+better.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You can be so calm about it, can ye?&nbsp; Be my
+arrangements nothing, then, that you should break &rsquo;em up,
+and say off hand what wasn&rsquo;t done to-day might ha&rsquo;
+been done to-morrow, and such flick-flack?&nbsp; Out o&rsquo; my
+sight!&nbsp; I won&rsquo;t hear any more.&nbsp; I won&rsquo;t
+speak to &rsquo;ee any more.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I&rsquo;ll go away, and then you&rsquo;ll be
+sorry!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Very well, go.&nbsp; Sorry&mdash;not I.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He turned and stamped his way into the cheese-room.&nbsp;
+Margery went upstairs.&nbsp; She too was excited now, and instead
+of fortifying herself in her bedroom till her father&rsquo;s rage
+had blown over, as she had often done on lesser occasions, she
+packed up a bundle of articles, crept down again, and went out of
+the house.&nbsp; She had a place of refuge in these cases of
+necessity, and her father knew it, and was less alarmed at seeing
+her depart than he might otherwise have been.&nbsp; This place
+was Rook&rsquo;s Gate, the house of her grandmother, who always
+took Margery&rsquo;s part when that young woman was particularly
+in the wrong.</p>
+<p>The devious way she pursued, to avoid the vicinity of Mount
+Lodge, was tedious, and she was already weary.&nbsp; But the
+cottage was a restful place to arrive at, for she was her own
+mistress there&mdash;her grandmother never coming down
+stairs&mdash;and Edy, the woman who lived with and attended her,
+being a cipher except in muscle and voice.&nbsp; The approach was
+by a straight open road, bordered by thin lank trees, all sloping
+away from the south-west wind-quarter, and the scene bore a
+strange resemblance to certain bits of Dutch landscape which have
+been imprinted on the world&rsquo;s eye by Hobbema and his
+school.</p>
+<p>Having explained to her granny that the wedding was put off;
+and that she had come to stay, one of Margery&rsquo;s first acts
+was carefully to pack up the locket and case, her wedding present
+from the Baron.&nbsp; The conditions of the gift were
+unfulfilled, and she wished it to go back instantly.&nbsp;
+Perhaps, in the intricacies of her bosom, there lurked a greater
+satisfaction with the reason for returning the present than she
+would have felt just then with a reason for keeping it.</p>
+<p>To send the article was difficult.&nbsp; In the evening she
+wrapped herself up, searched and found a gauze veil that had been
+used by her grandmother in past years for hiving swarms of bees,
+buried her face in it, and sallied forth with a palpitating heart
+till she drew near the tabernacle of her demi-god the
+Baron.&nbsp; She ventured only to the back-door, where she handed
+in the parcel addressed to him, and quickly came away.</p>
+<p>Now it seems that during the day the Baron had been unable to
+learn the result of his attempt to return Margery in time for the
+event he had interrupted.&nbsp; Wishing, for obvious reasons, to
+avoid direct inquiry by messenger, and being too unwell to go far
+himself, he could learn no particulars.&nbsp; He was sitting in
+thought after a lonely dinner when the parcel intimating failure
+as brought in.&nbsp; The footman, whose curiosity had been
+excited by the mode of its arrival, peeped through the keyhole
+after closing the door, to learn what the packet meant.&nbsp;
+Directly the Baron had opened it he thrust out his feet
+vehemently from his chair, and began cursing his ruinous conduct
+in bringing about such a disaster, for the return of the locket
+denoted not only no wedding that day, but none to-morrow, or at
+any time.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I have done that innocent woman a great wrong!&rsquo;
+he murmured.&nbsp; &lsquo;Deprived her of, perhaps, her only
+opportunity of becoming mistress of a happy home!&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+<p>A considerable period of inaction followed among all
+concerned.</p>
+<p>Nothing tended to dissipate the obscurity which veiled the
+life of the Baron.&nbsp; The position he occupied in the minds of
+the country-folk around was one which combined the mysteriousness
+of a legendary character with the unobtrusive deeds of a modern
+gentleman.&nbsp; To this day whoever takes the trouble to go down
+to Silverthorn in Lower Wessex and make inquiries will find
+existing there almost a superstitious feeling for the moody
+melancholy stranger who resided in the Lodge some forty years
+ago.</p>
+<p>Whence he came, whither he was going, were alike
+unknown.&nbsp; It was said that his mother had been an English
+lady of noble family who had married a foreigner not unheard of
+in circles where men pile up &lsquo;the cankered heaps of
+strange-achieved gold&rsquo;&mdash;that he had been born and
+educated in England, taken abroad, and so on.&nbsp; But the facts
+of a life in such cases are of little account beside the aspect
+of a life; and hence, though doubtless the years of his existence
+contained their share of trite and homely circumstance, the
+curtain which masked all this was never lifted to gratify such a
+theatre of spectators as those at Silverthorn.&nbsp; Therein lay
+his charm.&nbsp; His life was a vignette, of which the central
+strokes only were drawn with any distinctness, the environment
+shading away to a blank.</p>
+<p>He might have been said to resemble that solitary bird the
+heron.&nbsp; The still, lonely stream was his frequent haunt: on
+its banks he would stand for hours with his rod, looking into the
+water, beholding the tawny inhabitants with the eye of a
+philosopher, and seeming to say, &lsquo;Bite or don&rsquo;t
+bite&mdash;it&rsquo;s all the same to me.&rsquo;&nbsp; He was
+often mistaken for a ghost by children; and for a pollard willow
+by men, when, on their way home in the dusk, they saw him
+motionless by some rushy bank, unobservant of the decline of
+day.</p>
+<p>Why did he come to fish near Silverthorn?&nbsp; That was never
+explained.&nbsp; As far as was known he had no relatives near;
+the fishing there was not exceptionally good; the society
+thereabout was decidedly meagre.&nbsp; That he had committed some
+folly or hasty act, that he had been wrongfully accused of some
+crime, thus rendering his seclusion from the world desirable for
+a while, squared very well with his frequent melancholy.&nbsp;
+But such as he was there he lived, well supplied with
+fishing-tackle, and tenant of a furnished house, just suited to
+the requirements of such an eccentric being as he.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>Margery&rsquo;s father, having privately ascertained that she
+was living with her grandmother, and getting into no harm,
+refrained from communicating with her, in the hope of seeing her
+contrite at his door.&nbsp; It had, of course, become known about
+Silverthorn that at the last moment Margery refused to wed
+Hayward, by absenting herself from the house.&nbsp; Jim was
+pitied, yet not pitied much, for it was said that he ought not to
+have been so eager for a woman who had shown no anxiety for
+him.</p>
+<p>And where was Jim himself?&nbsp; It must not be supposed that
+that tactician had all this while withdrawn from mortal eye to
+tear his hair in silent indignation and despair.&nbsp; He had, in
+truth, merely retired up the lonesome defile between the downs to
+his smouldering kiln, and the ancient ramparts above it; and
+there, after his first hours of natural discomposure, he quietly
+waited for overtures from the possibly repentant Margery.&nbsp;
+But no overtures arrived, and then he meditated anew on the
+absorbing problem of her skittishness, and how to set about
+another campaign for her conquest, notwithstanding his late
+disastrous failure.&nbsp; Why had he failed?&nbsp; To what was
+her strange conduct owing?&nbsp; That was the thing which puzzled
+him.</p>
+<p>He had made no advance in solving the riddle when, one
+morning, a stranger appeared on the down above him, looking as if
+he had lost his way.&nbsp; The man had a good deal of black hair
+below his felt hat, and carried under his arm a case containing a
+musical instrument.&nbsp; Descending to where Jim stood, he asked
+if there were not a short cut across that way to Tivworthy, where
+a f&ecirc;te was to be held.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well, yes, there is,&rsquo; said Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;But
+&rsquo;tis an enormous distance for &rsquo;ee.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh, yes,&rsquo; replied the musician.&nbsp; &lsquo;I
+wish to intercept the carrier on the highway.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The nearest way was precisely in the direction of Rook&rsquo;s
+Gate, where Margery, as Jim knew, was staying.&nbsp; Having some
+time to spare, Jim was strongly impelled to make a kind act to
+the lost musician a pretext for taking observations in that
+neighbourhood, and telling his acquaintance that he was going the
+same way, he started without further ado.</p>
+<p>They skirted the long length of meads, and in due time arrived
+at the back of Rook&rsquo;s Gate, where the path joined the high
+road.&nbsp; A hedge divided the public way from the cottage
+garden.&nbsp; Jim drew up at this point and said, &lsquo;Your
+road is straight on: I turn back here.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>But the musician was standing fixed, as if in great
+perplexity.&nbsp; Thrusting his hand into his forest of black
+hair, he murmured, &lsquo;Surely it is the
+same&mdash;surely!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim, following the direction of his neighbour&rsquo;s eyes,
+found them to be fixed on a figure till that moment hidden from
+himself&mdash;Margery Tucker&mdash;who was crossing the garden to
+an opposite gate with a little cheese in her arms, her head
+thrown back, and her face quite exposed.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What of her?&rsquo; said Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Two months ago I formed one of the band at the Yeomanry
+Ball given by Lord Toneborough in the next county.&nbsp; I saw
+that young lady dancing the polka there in robes of gauze and
+lace.&nbsp; Now I see her carry a cheese!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Never!&rsquo; said Jim incredulously.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But I do not mistake.&nbsp; I say it is so!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim ridiculed the idea; the bandsman protested, and was about
+to lose his temper, when Jim gave in with the good-nature of a
+person who can afford to despise opinions; and the musician went
+his way.</p>
+<p>As he dwindled out of sight Jim began to think more carefully
+over what he had said.&nbsp; The young man&rsquo;s thoughts grew
+quite to an excitement, for there came into his mind the
+Baron&rsquo;s extraordinary kindness in regard to furniture,
+hitherto accounted for by the assumption that the nobleman had
+taken a fancy to him.&nbsp; Could it be, among all the amazing
+things of life, that the Baron was at the bottom of this
+mischief; and that he had amused himself by taking Margery to a
+ball?</p>
+<p>Doubts and suspicions which distract some lovers to imbecility
+only served to bring out Jim&rsquo;s great qualities.&nbsp; Where
+he trusted he was the most trusting fellow in the world; where he
+doubted he could be guilty of the slyest strategy.&nbsp; Once
+suspicious, he became one of those subtle, watchful characters
+who, without integrity, make good thieves; with a little, good
+jobbers; with a little more, good diplomatists.&nbsp; Jim was
+honest, and he considered what to do.</p>
+<p>Retracing his steps, he peeped again.&nbsp; She had gone in;
+but she would soon reappear, for it could be seen that she was
+carrying little new cheeses one by one to a spring-cart and horse
+tethered outside the gate&mdash;her grandmother, though not a
+regular dairywoman, still managing a few cows by means of a man
+and maid.&nbsp; With the lightness of a cat Jim crept round to
+the gate, took a piece of chalk from his pocket, and wrote upon
+the boarding &lsquo;The Baron.&rsquo;&nbsp; Then he retreated to
+the other side of the garden where he had just watched
+Margery.</p>
+<p>In due time she emerged with another little cheese, came on to
+the garden-door, and glanced upon the chalked words which
+confronted her.&nbsp; She started; the cheese rolled from her
+arms to the ground, and broke into pieces like a pudding.</p>
+<p>She looked fearfully round, her face burning like sunset, and,
+seeing nobody, stooped to pick up the flaccid lumps.&nbsp; Jim,
+with a pale face, departed as invisibly as he had come.&nbsp; He
+had proved the bandsman&rsquo;s tale to be true.&nbsp; On his way
+back he formed a resolution.&nbsp; It was to beard the lion in
+his den&mdash;to call on the Baron.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Margery had recovered her equanimity, and gathered
+up the broken cheese.&nbsp; But she could by no means account for
+the handwriting.&nbsp; Jim was just the sort of fellow to play
+her such a trick at ordinary times, but she imagined him to be
+far too incensed against her to do it now; and she suddenly
+wondered if it were any sort of signal from the Baron
+himself.</p>
+<p>Of him she had lately heard nothing.&nbsp; If ever monotony
+pervaded a life it pervaded hers at Rook&rsquo;s Gate; and she
+had begun to despair of any happy change.&nbsp; But it is
+precisely when the social atmosphere seems stagnant that great
+events are brewing.&nbsp; Margery&rsquo;s quiet was broken first,
+as we have seen, by a slight start, only sufficient to make her
+drop a cheese; and then by a more serious matter.</p>
+<p>She was inside the same garden one day when she heard two
+watermen talking without.&nbsp; The conversation was to the
+effect that the strange gentleman who had taken Mount Lodge for
+the season was seriously ill.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;How ill?&rsquo; cried Margery through the hedge, which
+screened her from recognition.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Bad abed,&rsquo; said one of the watermen.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Inflammation of the lungs,&rsquo; said the other.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Got wet, fishing,&rsquo; the first chimed in.</p>
+<p>Margery could gather no more.&nbsp; An ideal admiration rather
+than any positive passion existed in her breast for the Baron:
+she had of late seen too little of him to allow any incipient
+views of him as a lover to grow to formidable dimensions.&nbsp;
+It was an extremely romantic feeling, delicate as an aroma,
+capable of quickening to an active principle, or dying to
+&lsquo;a painless sympathy,&rsquo; as the case might be.</p>
+<p>This news of his illness, coupled with the mysterious chalking
+on the gate, troubled her, and revived his image much.&nbsp; She
+took to walking up and down the garden-paths, looking into the
+hearts of flowers, and not thinking what they were.&nbsp; His
+last request had been that she was not to go to him if be should
+send for her; and now she asked herself, was the name on the gate
+a hint to enable her to go without infringing the letter of her
+promise?&nbsp; Thus unexpectedly had Jim&rsquo;s man&oelig;uvre
+operated.</p>
+<p>Ten days passed.&nbsp; All she could hear of the Baron were
+the same words, &lsquo;Bad abed,&rsquo; till one afternoon, after
+a gallop of the physician to the Lodge, the tidings spread like
+lightning that the Baron was dying.</p>
+<p>Margery distressed herself with the question whether she might
+be permitted to visit him and say her prayers at his bedside; but
+she feared to venture; and thus eight-and-forty hours slipped
+away, and the Baron still lived.&nbsp; Despite her shyness and
+awe of him she had almost made up her mind to call when, just at
+dusk on that October evening, somebody came to the door and asked
+for her.</p>
+<p>She could see the messenger&rsquo;s head against the low new
+moon.&nbsp; He was a man-servant.&nbsp; He said he had been all
+the way to her father&rsquo;s, and had been sent thence to her
+here.&nbsp; He simply brought a note, and, delivering it into her
+hands, went away.</p>
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Margery Tucker</span>
+(ran the note)&mdash;They say I am not likely to live, so I want
+to see you.&nbsp; Be here at eight o&rsquo;clock this
+evening.&nbsp; Come quite alone to the side-door, and tap four
+times softly.&nbsp; My trusty man will admit you.&nbsp; The
+occasion is an important one.&nbsp; Prepare yourself for a solemn
+ceremony, which I wish to have performed while it lies in my
+power.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Von
+Xanten</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+<p>Margery&rsquo;s face flushed up, and her neck and arms glowed
+in sympathy.&nbsp; The quickness of youthful imagination, and the
+assumptiveness of woman&rsquo;s reason, sent her straight as an
+arrow this thought: &lsquo;He wants to marry me!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She had heard of similar strange proceedings, in which the
+orange-flower and the sad cypress were intertwined.&nbsp; People
+sometimes wished on their death-beds, from motives of esteem, to
+form a legal tie which they had not cared to establish as a
+domestic one during their active life.</p>
+<p>For a few minutes Margery could hardly be called excited; she
+was excitement itself.&nbsp; Between surprise and modesty she
+blushed and trembled by turns.&nbsp; She became grave, sat down
+in the solitary room, and looked into the fire.&nbsp; At seven
+o&rsquo;clock she rose resolved, and went quite tranquilly
+upstairs, where she speedily began to dress.</p>
+<p>In making this hasty toilet nine-tenths of her care were given
+to her hands.&nbsp; The summer had left them slightly brown, and
+she held them up and looked at them with some misgiving, the
+fourth finger of her left hand more especially.&nbsp; Hot
+washings and cold washings, certain products from bee and flower
+known only to country girls, everything she could think of, were
+used upon those little sunburnt hands, till she persuaded herself
+that they were really as white as could be wished by a husband
+with a hundred titles.&nbsp; Her dressing completed, she left
+word with Edy that she was going for a long walk, and set out in
+the direction of Mount Lodge.</p>
+<p>She no longer tripped like a girl, but walked like a
+woman.&nbsp; While crossing the park she murmured &lsquo;Baroness
+von Xanten&rsquo; in a pronunciation of her own.&nbsp; The sound
+of that title caused her such agitation that she was obliged to
+pause, with her hand upon her heart.</p>
+<p>The house was so closely neighboured by shrubberies on three
+of its sides that it was not till she had gone nearly round it
+that she found the little door.&nbsp; The resolution she had been
+an hour in forming failed her when she stood at the portal.&nbsp;
+While pausing for courage to tap, a carriage drove up to the
+front entrance a little way off, and peeping round the corner she
+saw alight a clergyman, and a gentleman in whom Margery fancied
+that she recognized a well-known solicitor from the neighbouring
+town.&nbsp; She had no longer any doubt of the nature of the
+ceremony proposed.&nbsp; &lsquo;It is sudden but I must obey
+him!&rsquo; she murmured: and tapped four times.</p>
+<p>The door was opened so quickly that the servant must have been
+standing immediately inside.&nbsp; She thought him the man who
+had driven them to the ball&mdash;the silent man who could be
+trusted.&nbsp; Without a word he conducted her up the back
+staircase, and through a door at the top, into a wide
+corridor.&nbsp; She was asked to wait in a little dressing-room,
+where there was a fire, and an old metal-framed looking-glass
+over the mantel-piece, in which she caught sight of
+herself.&nbsp; A red spot burnt in each of her cheeks; the rest
+of her face was pale; and her eyes were like diamonds of the
+first water.</p>
+<p>Before she had been seated many minutes the man came back
+noiselessly, and she followed him to a door covered by a red and
+black curtain, which he lifted, and ushered her into a large
+chamber.&nbsp; A screened light stood on a table before her, and
+on her left the hangings of a tall dark four-post bedstead
+obstructed her view of the centre of the room.&nbsp; Everything
+here seemed of such a magnificent type to her eyes that she felt
+confused, diminished to half her height, half her strength, half
+her prettiness.&nbsp; The man who had conducted her retired at
+once, and some one came softly round the angle of the
+bed-curtains.&nbsp; He held out his hand kindly&mdash;rather
+patronisingly: it was the solicitor whom she knew by sight.&nbsp;
+This gentleman led her forward, as if she had been a lamb rather
+than a woman, till the occupant of the bed was revealed.</p>
+<p>The Baron&rsquo;s eyes were closed, and her entry had been so
+noiseless that he did not open them.&nbsp; The pallor of his face
+nearly matched the white bed-linen, and his dark hair and heavy
+black moustache were like dashes of ink on a clean page.&nbsp;
+Near him sat the parson and another gentleman, whom she
+afterwards learnt to be a London physician; and on the parson
+whispering a few words the Baron opened his eyes.&nbsp; As soon
+as he saw her he smiled faintly, and held out his hand.</p>
+<p>Margery would have wept for him, if she had not been too
+overawed and palpitating to do anything.&nbsp; She quite forgot
+what she had come for, shook hands with him mechanically, and
+could hardly return an answer to his weak &lsquo;Dear Margery,
+you see how I am&mdash;how are you?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>In preparing for marriage she had not calculated on such a
+scene as this.&nbsp; Her affection for the Baron had too much of
+the vague in it to afford her trustfulness now.&nbsp; She wished
+she had not come.&nbsp; On a sign from the Baron the lawyer
+brought her a chair, and the oppressive silence was broken by the
+Baron&rsquo;s words.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I am pulled down to death&rsquo;s door, Margery,&rsquo;
+he said; &lsquo;and I suppose I soon shall pass through . . . My
+peace has been much disturbed in this illness, for just before it
+attacked me I received&mdash;that present you returned, from
+which, and in other ways, I learnt that you had lost your chance
+of marriage . . . Now it was I who did the harm, and you can
+imagine how the news has affected me.&nbsp; It has worried me all
+the illness through, and I cannot dismiss my error from my mind .
+. . I want to right the wrong I have done you before I die.&nbsp;
+Margery, you have always obeyed me, and, strange as the request
+may be, will you obey me now?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She whispered &lsquo;Yes.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well, then,&rsquo; said the Baron, &lsquo;these three
+gentlemen are here for a special purpose: one helps the
+body&mdash;he&rsquo;s called a physician; another helps the
+soul&mdash;he&rsquo;s a parson; the other helps the
+understanding&mdash;he&rsquo;s a lawyer.&nbsp; They are here
+partly on my account, and partly on yours.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The speaker then made a sign to the lawyer, who went out of
+the door.&nbsp; He came back almost instantly, but not
+alone.&nbsp; Behind him, dressed up in his best clothes, with a
+flower in his buttonhole and a bridegroom&rsquo;s air,
+walked&mdash;Jim.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+<p>Margery could hardly repress a scream.&nbsp; As for flushing
+and blushing, she had turned hot and turned pale so many times
+already during the evening, that there was really now nothing of
+that sort left for her to do; and she remained in complexion much
+as before.&nbsp; O, the mockery of it!&nbsp; That secret
+dream&mdash;that sweet word &lsquo;Baroness!&rsquo;&mdash;which
+had sustained her all the way along.&nbsp; Instead of a Baron
+there stood Jim, white-waistcoated, demure, every hair in place,
+and, if she mistook not, even a deedy spark in his eye.</p>
+<p>Jim&rsquo;s surprising presence on the scene may be briefly
+accounted for.&nbsp; His resolve to seek an explanation with the
+Baron at all risks had proved unexpectedly easy: the interview
+had at once been granted, and then, seeing the crisis at which
+matters stood, the Baron had generously revealed to Jim the whole
+of his indebtedness to and knowledge of Margery.&nbsp; The truth
+of the Baron&rsquo;s statement, the innocent nature as yet of the
+acquaintanceship, his sorrow for the rupture he had produced, was
+so evident that, far from having any further doubts of his
+patron, Jim frankly asked his advice on the next step to be
+pursued.&nbsp; At this stage the Baron fell ill, and, desiring
+much to see the two young people united before his death, he had
+sent anew Hayward, and proposed the plan which they were to now
+about to attempt&mdash;a marriage at the bedside of the sick man
+by special licence.&nbsp; The influence at Lambeth of some
+friends of the Baron&rsquo;s, and the charitable bequests of his
+late mother to several deserving Church funds, were generally
+supposed to be among the reasons why the application for the
+licence was not refused.</p>
+<p>This, however, is of small consequence.&nbsp; The Baron
+probably knew, in proposing this method of celebrating the
+marriage, that his enormous power over her would outweigh any
+sentimental obstacles which she might set up&mdash;inward
+objections that, without his presence and firmness, might prove
+too much for her acquiescence.&nbsp; Doubtless he foresaw, too,
+the advantage of getting her into the house before making the
+individuality of her husband clear to her mind.</p>
+<p>Now, the Baron&rsquo;s conjectures were right as to the event,
+but wrong as to the motives.&nbsp; Margery was a perfect little
+dissembler on some occasions, and one of them was when she wished
+to hide any sudden mortification that might bring her into
+ridicule.&nbsp; She had no sooner recovered from her first fit of
+discomfiture than pride bade her suffer anything rather than
+reveal her absurd disappointment.&nbsp; Hence the scene
+progressed as follows:</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Come here, Hayward,&rsquo; said the invalid.&nbsp;
+Hayward came near.&nbsp; The Baron, holding her hand in one of
+his own, and her lover&rsquo;s in the other, continued,
+&lsquo;Will you, in spite of your recent vexation with her, marry
+her now if she does not refuse?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I will, sir,&rsquo; said Jim promptly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And Margery, what do you say?&nbsp; It is merely a
+setting of things right.&nbsp; You have already promised this
+young man to be his wife, and should, of course, perform your
+promise.&nbsp; You don&rsquo;t dislike Jim?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O, no, sir,&rsquo; she said, in a low, dry voice.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I like him better than I can tell you,&rsquo; said the
+Baron.&nbsp; &lsquo;He is an honourable man, and will make you a
+good husband.&nbsp; You must remember that marriage is a life
+contract, in which general compatibility of temper and worldly
+position is of more importance than fleeting passion, which never
+long survives.&nbsp; Now, will you, at my earnest request, and
+before I go to the South of Europe to die, agree to make this
+good man happy?&nbsp; I have expressed your views on the subject,
+haven&rsquo;t I, Hayward?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;To a T, sir,&rsquo; said Jim emphatically; with a
+motion of raising his hat to his influential ally, till he
+remembered he had no hat on.&nbsp; &lsquo;And, though I could
+hardly expect Margery to gie in for my asking, I feels she ought
+to gie in for yours.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And you accept him, my little friend?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, sir,&rsquo; she murmured, &lsquo;if he&rsquo;ll
+agree to a thing or two.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Doubtless he will&mdash;what are they?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That I shall not be made to live with him till I am in
+the mind for it; and that my having him shall be kept unknown for
+the present.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well, what do you think of it, Hayward?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Anything that you or she may wish I&rsquo;ll do, my
+noble lord,&rsquo; said Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well, her request is not unreasonable, seeing that the
+proceedings are, on my account, a little hurried.&nbsp; So
+we&rsquo;ll proceed.&nbsp; You rather expected this, from my
+allusion to a ceremony in my note, did you not,
+Margery?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, sir,&rsquo; said she, with an effort.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Good; I thought so; you looked so little
+surprised.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>We now leave the scene in the bedroom for a spot not many
+yards off.</p>
+<p>When the carriage seen by Margery at the door was driving up
+to Mount Lodge it arrested the attention, not only of the young
+girl, but of a man who had for some time been moving slowly about
+the opposite lawn, engaged in some operation while he smoked a
+short pipe.&nbsp; A short observation of his doings would have
+shown that he was sheltering some delicate plants from an
+expected frost, and that he was the gardener.&nbsp; When the
+light at the door fell upon the entering forms of parson and
+lawyer&mdash;the former a stranger, the latter known to
+him&mdash;the gardener walked thoughtfully round the house.&nbsp;
+Reaching the small side-entrance he was further surprised to see
+it noiselessly open to a young woman, in whose momentarily
+illumined features he discerned those of Margery Tucker.</p>
+<p>Altogether there was something curious in this.&nbsp; The man
+returned to the lawn front, and perfunctorily went on putting
+shelters over certain plants, though his thoughts were plainly
+otherwise engaged.&nbsp; On the grass his footsteps were
+noiseless, and the night moreover being still, he could presently
+hear a murmuring from the bedroom window over his head.</p>
+<p>The gardener took from a tree a ladder that he had used in
+nailing that day, set it under the window, and ascended half-way,
+hoodwinking his conscience by seizing a nail or two with his hand
+and testing their twig-supporting powers.&nbsp; He soon heard
+enough to satisfy him.&nbsp; The words of a church-service in the
+strange parson&rsquo;s voice were audible in snatches through the
+blind: they were words he knew to be part of the solemnization of
+matrimony, such as &lsquo;wedded wife,&rsquo; &lsquo;richer for
+poorer,&rsquo; and so on; the less familiar parts being a more or
+less confused sound.</p>
+<p>Satisfied that a wedding was in progress there, the gardener
+did not for a moment dream that one of the contracting parties
+could be other than the sick Baron.&nbsp; He descended the ladder
+and again walked round the house, waiting only till he saw
+Margery emerge from the same little door; when, fearing that he
+might be discovered, he withdrew in the direction of his own
+cottage.</p>
+<p>This building stood at the lower corner of the garden, and as
+soon as the gardener entered he was accosted by a handsome woman
+in a widow&rsquo;s cap, who called him father, and said that
+supper had been ready for a long time.&nbsp; They sat down, but
+during the meal the gardener was so abstracted and silent that
+his daughter put her head winningly to one side and said,
+&lsquo;What is it, father dear?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah&mdash;what is it!&rsquo; cried the gardener.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Something that makes very little difference to me, but may
+be of great account to you, if you play your cards well.&nbsp;
+<i>There&rsquo;s been a wedding at the Lodge
+to-night</i>!&rsquo;&nbsp; He related to her, with a caution to
+secrecy, all that he had heard and seen.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;We are folk that have got to get their living,&rsquo;
+he said, &lsquo;and such ones mustn&rsquo;t tell tales about
+their betters,&mdash;Lord forgive the mockery of the
+word!&mdash;but there&rsquo;s something to be made of it.&nbsp;
+She&rsquo;s a nice maid; so, Harriet, do you take the first
+chance you get for honouring her, before others know what has
+happened.&nbsp; Since this is done so privately it will be kept
+private for some time&mdash;till after his death, no
+question;&mdash;when I expect she&rsquo;ll take this house for
+herself; and blaze out as a widow-lady ten thousand pound
+strong.&nbsp; You being a widow, she may make you her
+company-keeper; and so you&rsquo;ll have a home by a little
+contriving.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>While this conversation progressed at the gardener&rsquo;s
+Margery was on her way out of the Baron&rsquo;s house.&nbsp; She
+was, indeed, married.&nbsp; But, as we know, she was not married
+to the Baron.&nbsp; The ceremony over she seemed but little
+discomposed, and expressed a wish to return alone as she had
+come.&nbsp; To this, of course, no objection could be offered
+under the terms of the agreement, and wishing Jim a frigid
+good-bye, and the Baron a very quiet farewell, she went out by
+the door which had admitted her.&nbsp; Once safe and alone in the
+darkness of the park she burst into tears, which dropped upon the
+grass as she passed along.&nbsp; In the Baron&rsquo;s room she
+had seemed scared and helpless; now her reason and emotions
+returned.&nbsp; The further she got away from the glamour of that
+room, and the influence of its occupant, the more she became of
+opinion that she had acted foolishly.&nbsp; She had disobediently
+left her father&rsquo;s house, to obey him here.&nbsp; She had
+pleased everybody but herself.</p>
+<p>However, thinking was now too late.&nbsp; How she got into her
+grandmother&rsquo;s house she hardly knew; but without a supper,
+and without confronting either her relative or Edy, she went to
+bed.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+<p>On going out into the garden next morning, with a strange
+sense of being another person than herself, she beheld Jim
+leaning mutely over the gate.</p>
+<p>He nodded.&nbsp; &lsquo;Good morning, Margery,&rsquo; he said
+civilly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Good morning,&rsquo; said Margery in the same tone.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I beg your pardon,&rsquo; he continued.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;But which way was you going this morning?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I am not going anywhere just now, thank you.&nbsp; But
+I shall go to my father&rsquo;s by-and-by with Edy.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+She went on with a sigh, &lsquo;I have done what he has all along
+wished, that is, married you; and there&rsquo;s no longer reason
+for enmity atween him and me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Trew&mdash;trew.&nbsp; Well, as I am going the same
+way, I can give you a lift in the trap, for the distance is
+long.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No thank you&mdash;I am used to walking,&rsquo; she
+said.</p>
+<p>They remained in silence, the gate between them, till
+Jim&rsquo;s convictions would apparently allow him to hold his
+peace no longer.&nbsp; &lsquo;This is a bad job!&rsquo; he
+murmured.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is,&rsquo; she said, as one whose thoughts have only
+too readily been identified.&nbsp; &lsquo;How I came to agree to
+it is more than I can tell!&rsquo;&nbsp; And tears began rolling
+down her cheeks.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The blame is more mine than yours, I suppose,&rsquo; he
+returned.&nbsp; &lsquo;I ought to have said No, and not backed up
+the gentleman in carrying out this scheme.&nbsp; &rsquo;Twas his
+own notion entirely, as perhaps you know.&nbsp; I should never
+have thought of such a plan; but he said you&rsquo;d be willing,
+and that it would be all right; and I was too ready to believe
+him.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The thing is, how to remedy it,&rsquo; said she
+bitterly.&nbsp; &lsquo;I believe, of course, in your promise to
+keep this private, and not to trouble me by calling.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Certainly,&rsquo; said Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t
+want to trouble you.&nbsp; As for that, why, my dear Mrs.
+Hayward&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Don&rsquo;t Mrs. Hayward me!&rsquo; said Margery
+sharply.&nbsp; &lsquo;I won&rsquo;t be Mrs. Hayward!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim paused.&nbsp; &lsquo;Well, you are she by law, and that
+was all I meant,&rsquo; he said mildly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I said I would acknowledge no such thing, and I
+won&rsquo;t.&nbsp; A thing can&rsquo;t be legal when it&rsquo;s
+against the wishes of the persons the laws are made to
+protect.&nbsp; So I beg you not to call me that
+anymore.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Very well, Miss Tucker,&rsquo; said Jim
+deferentially.&nbsp; &lsquo;We can live on exactly as
+before.&nbsp; We can&rsquo;t marry anybody else, that&rsquo;s
+true; but beyond that there&rsquo;s no difference, and no harm
+done.&nbsp; Your father ought to be told, I suppose, even if
+nobody else is?&nbsp; It will partly reconcile him to you, and
+make your life smoother.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Instead of directly replying, Margery exclaimed in a low
+voice:</p>
+<p>&lsquo;O, it is a mistake&mdash;I didn&rsquo;t see it all,
+owing to not having time to reflect!&nbsp; I agreed, thinking
+that at least I should get reconciled to father by the
+step.&nbsp; But perhaps he would as soon have me not married at
+all as married and parted.&nbsp; I must ha&rsquo; been
+enchanted&mdash;bewitched&mdash;when I gave my consent to
+this!&nbsp; I only did it to please that dear good dying
+nobleman&mdash;though why he should have wished it so much I
+can&rsquo;t tell!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Nor I neither,&rsquo; said Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;Yes,
+we&rsquo;ve been fooled into it, Margery,&rsquo; he said, with
+extraordinary gravity.&nbsp; &lsquo;He&rsquo;s had his way
+wi&rsquo; us, and now we&rsquo;ve got to suffer for it.&nbsp;
+Being a gentleman of patronage, and having bought several loads
+of lime o&rsquo; me, and having given me all that splendid
+furniture, I could hardly refuse&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What, did he give you that?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ay sure&mdash;to help me win ye.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery covered her face with her hands; whereupon Jim stood
+up from the gate and looked critically at her.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;&rsquo;Tis a footy plot between you two men to&mdash;snare
+me!&rsquo; she exclaimed.&nbsp; &lsquo;Why should you have done
+it&mdash;why should he have done it&mdash;when I&rsquo;ve not
+deserved to be treated so.&nbsp; He bought the
+furniture&mdash;did he!&nbsp; O, I&rsquo;ve been taken
+in&mdash;I&rsquo;ve been wronged!&rsquo;&nbsp; The grief and
+vexation of finding that long ago, when fondly believing the
+Baron to have lover-like feelings himself for her, he was still
+conspiring to favour Jim&rsquo;s suit, was more than she could
+endure.</p>
+<p>Jim with distant courtesy waited, nibbling a straw, till her
+paroxysm was over.&nbsp; &lsquo;One word, Miss
+Tuck&mdash;Mrs.&mdash;Margery,&rsquo; he then recommenced
+gravely.&nbsp; &lsquo;You&rsquo;ll find me man enough to respect
+your wish, and to leave you to yourself&mdash;for ever and ever,
+if that&rsquo;s all.&nbsp; But I&rsquo;ve just one word of advice
+to render &rsquo;ee.&nbsp; That is, that before you go to
+Silverthorn Dairy yourself you let me drive ahead and call on
+your father.&nbsp; He&rsquo;s friends with me, and he&rsquo;s not
+friends with you.&nbsp; I can break the news, a little at a time,
+and I think I can gain his good will for you now, even though the
+wedding be no natural wedding at all.&nbsp; At any count, I can
+hear what he&rsquo;s got to say about &rsquo;ee, and come back
+here and tell &rsquo;ee.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She nodded a cool assent to this, and he left her strolling
+about the garden in the sunlight while he went on to reconnoitre
+as agreed.&nbsp; It must not be supposed that Jim&rsquo;s dutiful
+echoes of Margery&rsquo;s regret at her precipitate marriage were
+all gospel; and there is no doubt that his private intention,
+after telling the dairy-farmer what had happened, was to ask his
+temporary assent to her caprice, till, in the course of time, she
+should be reasoned out of her whims and induced to settle down
+with Jim in a natural manner.&nbsp; He had, it is true, been
+somewhat nettled by her firm objection to him, and her keen
+sorrow for what she had done to please another; but he hoped for
+the best.</p>
+<p>But, alas for the astute Jim&rsquo;s calculations!&nbsp; He
+drove on to the dairy, whose white walls now gleamed in the
+morning sun; made fast the horse to a ring in the wall, and
+entered the barton.&nbsp; Before knocking, he perceived the
+dairyman walking across from a gate in the other direction, as if
+he had just come in.&nbsp; Jim went over to him.&nbsp; Since the
+unfortunate incident on the morning of the intended wedding they
+had merely been on nodding terms, from a sense of awkwardness in
+their relations.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What&mdash;is that thee?&rsquo; said Dairyman Tucker,
+in a voice which unmistakably startled Jim by its abrupt
+fierceness.&nbsp; &lsquo;A pretty fellow thou
+be&rsquo;st!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>It was a bad beginning for the young man&rsquo;s life as a
+son-in-law, and augured ill for the delicate consultation he
+desired.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rsquo; said Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Matter!&nbsp; I wish some folks would burn their lime
+without burning other folks&rsquo; property along wi&rsquo;
+it.&nbsp; You ought to be ashamed of yourself.&nbsp; You call
+yourself a man, Jim Hayward, and an honest lime-burner, and a
+respectable, market-keeping Christen, and yet at six
+o&rsquo;clock this morning, instead o&rsquo; being where you
+ought to ha&rsquo; been&mdash;at your work, there was neither
+vell or mark o&rsquo; thee to be seen!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Faith, I don&rsquo;t know what you are raving
+at,&rsquo; said Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why&mdash;the sparks from thy couch-heap blew over upon
+my hay-rick, and the rick&rsquo;s burnt to ashes; and all to come
+out o&rsquo; my well-squeezed pocket.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll tell thee
+what it is, young man.&nbsp; There&rsquo;s no business in
+thee.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve known Silverthorn folk, quick and dead,
+for the last couple-o&rsquo;-score year, and I&rsquo;ve never
+knew one so three-cunning for harm as thee, my gentleman
+lime-burner; and I reckon it one o&rsquo; the luckiest days
+o&rsquo; my life when I &rsquo;scaped having thee in my
+family.&nbsp; That maid of mine was right; I was wrong.&nbsp; She
+seed thee to be a drawlacheting rogue, and &rsquo;twas her wisdom
+to go off that morning and get rid o&rsquo; thee.&nbsp; I commend
+her for&rsquo;t, and I&rsquo;m going to fetch her home
+to-morrow.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You needn&rsquo;t take the trouble.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s
+coming home-along to-night of her own accord.&nbsp; I have seen
+her this morning, and she told me so.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;So much the better.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll welcome her
+warm.&nbsp; Nation!&nbsp; I&rsquo;d sooner see her married to the
+parish fool than thee.&nbsp; Not you&mdash;you don&rsquo;t care
+for my hay.&nbsp; Tarrying about where you shouldn&rsquo;t be, in
+bed, no doubt; that&rsquo;s what you was a-doing.&nbsp; Now,
+don&rsquo;t you darken my doors again, and the sooner you be off
+my bit o&rsquo; ground the better I shall be pleased.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim looked, as he felt, stultified.&nbsp; If the rick had been
+really destroyed, a little blame certainly attached to him, but
+he could not understand how it had happened.&nbsp; However, blame
+or none, it was clear he could not, with any self-respect,
+declare himself to be this peppery old gaffer&rsquo;s son-in-law
+in the face of such an attack as this.</p>
+<p>For months&mdash;almost years&mdash;the one transaction that
+had seemed necessary to compose these two families satisfactorily
+was Jim&rsquo;s union with Margery.&nbsp; No sooner had it been
+completed than it appeared on all sides as the gravest mishap for
+both.&nbsp; Stating coldly that he would discover how much of the
+accident was to be attributed to his negligence, and pay the
+damage, he went out of the barton, and returned the way he had
+come.</p>
+<p>Margery had been keeping a look-out for him, particularly
+wishing him not to enter the house, lest others should see the
+seriousness of their interview; and as soon as she heard wheels
+she went to the gate, which was out of view.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Surely father has been speaking roughly to you!&rsquo;
+she said, on seeing his face.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Not the least doubt that he have,&rsquo; said Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But is he still angry with me?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Not in the least.&nbsp; He&rsquo;s waiting to welcome
+&rsquo;ee.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah! because I&rsquo;ve married you.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Because he thinks you have not married me!&nbsp;
+He&rsquo;s jawed me up hill and down.&nbsp; He hates me; and for
+your sake I have not explained a word.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery looked towards home with a sad, severe gaze.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Mr. Hayward,&rsquo; she said, &lsquo;we have made a great
+mistake, and we are in a strange position.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;True, but I&rsquo;ll tell you what, mistress&mdash;I
+won&rsquo;t stand&mdash;&rsquo;&nbsp; He stopped suddenly.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Well, well; I&rsquo;ve promised!&rsquo; he quietly
+added.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;We must suffer for our mistake,&rsquo; she went
+on.&nbsp; &lsquo;The way to suffer least is to keep our own
+counsel on what happened last evening, and not to meet.&nbsp; I
+must now return to my father.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He inclined his head in indifferent assent, and she went
+indoors, leaving him there.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+<p>Margery returned home, as she had decided, and resumed her old
+life at Silverthorn.&nbsp; And seeing her father&rsquo;s
+animosity towards Jim, she told him not a word of the
+marriage.</p>
+<p>Her inner life, however, was not what it once had been.&nbsp;
+She had suffered a mental and emotional displacement&mdash;a
+shock, which had set a shade of astonishment on her face as a
+permanent thing.</p>
+<p>Her indignation with the Baron for collusion with Jim, at
+first bitter, lessened with the lapse of a few weeks, and at
+length vanished in the interest of some tidings she received one
+day.</p>
+<p>The Baron was not dead, but he was no longer at the
+Lodge.&nbsp; To the surprise of the physicians, a sufficient
+improvement had taken place in his condition to permit of his
+removal before the cold weather came.&nbsp; His desire for
+removal had been such, indeed, that it was advisable to carry it
+out at almost any risk.&nbsp; The plan adopted had been to have
+him borne on men&rsquo;s shoulders in a sort of palanquin to the
+shore near Idmouth, a distance of several miles, where a yacht
+lay awaiting him.&nbsp; By this means the noise and jolting of a
+carriage, along irregular bye-roads, were avoided.&nbsp; The
+singular procession over the fields took place at night, and was
+witnessed by but few people, one being a labouring man, who
+described the scene to Margery.&nbsp; When the seaside was
+reached a long, narrow gangway was laid from the deck of the
+yacht to the shore, which was so steep as to allow the yacht to
+lie quite near.&nbsp; The men, with their burden, ascended by the
+light of lanterns, the sick man was laid in the cabin, and, as
+soon as his bearers had returned to the shore, the gangway was
+removed, a rope was heard skirring over wood in the darkness, the
+yacht quivered, spread her woven wings to the air, and moved
+away.&nbsp; Soon she was but a small, shapeless phantom upon the
+wide breast of the sea.</p>
+<p>It was said that the yacht was bound for Algiers.</p>
+<p>When the inimical autumn and winter weather came on, Margery
+wondered if he were still alive.&nbsp; The house being shut up,
+and the servants gone, she had no means of knowing, till, on a
+particular Saturday, her father drove her to Exonbury
+market.&nbsp; Here, in attending to his business, he left her to
+herself for awhile.&nbsp; Walking in a quiet street in the
+professional quarter of the town, she saw coming towards her the
+solicitor who had been present at the wedding, and who had acted
+for the Baron in various small local matters during his brief
+residence at the Lodge.</p>
+<p>She reddened to peony hues, averted her eyes, and would have
+passed him.&nbsp; But he crossed over and barred the pavement,
+and when she met his glance he was looking with friendly severity
+at her.&nbsp; The street was quiet, and he said in a low voice,
+&lsquo;How&rsquo;s the husband?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know, sir,&rsquo; said she.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What&mdash;and are your stipulations about secrecy and
+separate living still in force?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;They will always be,&rsquo; she replied
+decisively.&nbsp; &lsquo;Mr. Hayward and I agreed on the point,
+and we have not the slightest wish to change the
+arrangement.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;H&rsquo;m.&nbsp; Then &rsquo;tis Miss Tucker to the
+world; Mrs. Hayward to me and one or two others only?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery nodded.&nbsp; Then she nerved herself by an effort,
+and, though blushing painfully, asked, &lsquo;May I put one
+question, sir?&nbsp; Is the Baron dead?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;He is dead to you and to all of us.&nbsp; Why should
+you ask?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Because, if he&rsquo;s alive, I am sorry I married
+James Hayward.&nbsp; If he is dead I do not much mind my
+marriage.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I repeat, he is dead to you,&rsquo; said the lawyer
+emphatically.&nbsp; &lsquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you all I know.&nbsp;
+My professional services for him ended with his departure from
+this country; but I think I should have heard from him if he had
+been alive still.&nbsp; I have not heard at all: and this, taken
+in connection with the nature of his illness, leaves no doubt in
+my mind that he is dead.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery sighed, and thanking the lawyer she left him with a
+tear for the Baron in her eye.&nbsp; After this incident she
+became more restful; and the time drew on for her periodical
+visit to her grandmother.</p>
+<p>A few days subsequent to her arrival her aged relative asked
+her to go with a message to the gardener at Mount Lodge (who
+still lived on there, keeping the grounds in order for the
+landlord).&nbsp; Margery hated that direction now, but she
+went.&nbsp; The Lodge, which she saw over the trees, was to her
+like a skull from which the warm and living flesh had
+vanished.&nbsp; It was twilight by the time she reached the
+cottage at the bottom of the Lodge garden, and, the room being
+illuminated within, she saw through the window a woman she had
+never seen before.&nbsp; She was dark, and rather handsome, and
+when Margery knocked she opened the door.&nbsp; It was the
+gardener&rsquo;s widowed daughter, who had been advised to make
+friends with Margery.</p>
+<p>She now found her opportunity.&nbsp; Margery&rsquo;s errand
+was soon completed, the young widow, to her surprise, treating
+her with preternatural respect, and afterwards offering to
+accompany her home.&nbsp; Margery was not sorry to have a
+companion in the gloom, and they walked on together.&nbsp; The
+widow, Mrs. Peach, was demonstrative and confidential; and told
+Margery all about herself.&nbsp; She had come quite recently to
+live with her father&mdash;during the Baron&rsquo;s illness, in
+fact&mdash;and her husband had been captain of a ketch.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I saw you one morning, ma&rsquo;am,&rsquo; she
+said.&nbsp; &lsquo;But you didn&rsquo;t see me.&nbsp; It was when
+you were crossing the hill in sight of the Lodge.&nbsp; You
+looked at it, and sighed.&nbsp; &rsquo;Tis the lot of widows to
+sigh, ma&rsquo;am, is it not?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Widows&mdash;yes, I suppose; but what do you
+mean?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Peach lowered her voice.&nbsp; &lsquo;I can&rsquo;t say
+more, ma&rsquo;am, with proper respect.&nbsp; But there seems to
+be no question of the poor Baron&rsquo;s death; and though these
+foreign princes can take (as my poor husband used to tell me)
+what they call left-handed wives, and leave them behind when they
+go abroad, widowhood is widowhood, left-handed or right.&nbsp;
+And really, to be the left-handed wife of a foreign baron is
+nobler than to be married all round to a common man.&nbsp;
+You&rsquo;ll excuse my freedom, ma&rsquo;am; but being a widow
+myself, I have pitied you from my heart; so young as you are, and
+having to keep it a secret, and (excusing me) having no money out
+of his vast riches because &rsquo;tis swallowed up by Baroness
+Number One.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Now Margery did not understand a word more of this than the
+bare fact that Mrs. Peach suspected her to be the Baron&rsquo;s
+undowered widow, and such was the milkmaid&rsquo;s nature that
+she did not deny the widow&rsquo;s impeachment.&nbsp; The latter
+continued&mdash;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But ah, ma&rsquo;am, all your troubles are straight
+backward in your memory&mdash;while I have troubles before as
+well as grief behind.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What may they be, Mrs. Peach?&rsquo; inquired Margery
+with an air of the Baroness.</p>
+<p>The other dropped her voice to revelation tones: &lsquo;I have
+been forgetful enough of my first man to lose my heart to a
+second!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You shouldn&rsquo;t do that&mdash;it is wrong.&nbsp;
+You should control your feelings.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But how am I to control my feelings?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;By going to your dead husband&rsquo;s grave, and things
+of that sort.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Do you go to your dead husband&rsquo;s
+grave?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;How can I go to Algiers?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah&mdash;too true!&nbsp; Well, I&rsquo;ve tried
+everything to cure myself&mdash;read the words against it, gone
+to the Table the first Sunday of every month, and all
+sorts.&nbsp; But, avast, my shipmate!&mdash;as my poor man used
+to say&mdash;there &rsquo;tis just the same.&nbsp; In short,
+I&rsquo;ve made up my mind to encourage the new one.&nbsp;
+&rsquo;Tis flattering that I, a new-comer, should have been found
+out by a young man so soon.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Who is he?&rsquo; said Margery listlessly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;A master lime-burner.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;A master lime-burner?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That&rsquo;s his profession.&nbsp; He&rsquo;s a
+partner-in-co., doing very well indeed.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But what&rsquo;s his name?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I don&rsquo;t like to tell you his name, for, though
+&rsquo;tis night, that covers all shame-facedness, my face is as
+hot as a &rsquo;Talian iron, I declare!&nbsp; Do you just feel
+it.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery put her hand on Mrs. Peach&rsquo;s face, and, sure
+enough, hot it was.&nbsp; &lsquo;Does he come courting?&rsquo;
+she asked quickly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well only in the way of business.&nbsp; He never comes
+unless lime is wanted in the neighbourhood.&nbsp; He&rsquo;s in
+the Yeomanry, too, and will look very fine when he comes out in
+regimentals for drill in May.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh&mdash;in the Yeomanry,&rsquo; Margery said, with a
+slight relief.&nbsp; &lsquo;Then it can&rsquo;t&mdash;is he a
+young man?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, junior partner-in-co.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The description had an odd resemblance to Jim, of whom Margery
+had not heard a word for months.&nbsp; He had promised silence
+and absence, and had fulfilled his promise literally, with a
+gratuitous addition that was rather amazing, if indeed it were
+Jim whom the widow loved.&nbsp; One point in the description
+puzzled Margery: Jim was not in the Yeomanry, unless, by a
+surprising development of enterprise, he had entered it
+recently.</p>
+<p>At parting Margery said, with an interest quite tender,
+&lsquo;I should like to see you again, Mrs. Peach, and hear of
+your attachment.&nbsp; When can you call?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh&mdash;any time, dear Baroness, I&rsquo;m
+sure&mdash;if you think I am good enough.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Indeed, I do, Mrs. Peach.&nbsp; Come as soon as
+you&rsquo;ve seen the lime-burner again.&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+<p>Seeing that Jim lived several miles from the widow, Margery
+was rather surprised, and even felt a slight sinking of the
+heart, when her new acquaintance appeared at her door so soon as
+the evening of the following Monday.&nbsp; She asked Margery to
+walk out with her, which the young woman readily did.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I am come at once,&rsquo; said the widow breathlessly,
+as soon as they were in the lane, &lsquo;for it is so exciting
+that I can&rsquo;t keep it.&nbsp; I must tell it to somebody, if
+only a bird, or a cat, or a garden snail.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What is it?&rsquo; asked her companion.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I&rsquo;ve pulled grass from my husband&rsquo;s grave
+to cure it&mdash;wove the blades into true lover&rsquo;s knots;
+took off my shoes upon the sod; but, avast, my
+shipmate,&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Upon the sod&mdash;why?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;To feel the damp earth he&rsquo;s in, and make the
+sense of it enter my soul.&nbsp; But no.&nbsp; It has swelled to
+a head; he is going to meet me at the Yeomanry Review.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The master lime-burner?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The widow nodded.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;When is it to be?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;To-morrow.&nbsp; He looks so lovely in his
+accoutrements!&nbsp; He&rsquo;s such a splendid soldier; that was
+the last straw that kindled my soul to say yes.&nbsp; He&rsquo;s
+home from Exonbury for a night between the drills,&rsquo;
+continued Mrs. Peach.&nbsp; &lsquo;He goes back to-morrow morning
+for the Review, and when it&rsquo;s over he&rsquo;s going to meet
+me.&nbsp; But, guide my heart, there he is!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Her exclamation had rise in the sudden appearance of a
+brilliant red uniform through the trees, and the tramp of a horse
+carrying the wearer thereof.&nbsp; In another half-minute the
+military gentleman would have turned the corner, and faced
+them.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;He&rsquo;d better not see me; he&rsquo;ll think I know
+too much,&rsquo; said Margery precipitately.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;I&rsquo;ll go up here.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The widow, whose thoughts had been of the same cast, seemed
+much relieved to see Margery disappear in the plantation, in the
+midst of a spring chorus of birds.&nbsp; Once among the trees,
+Margery turned her head, and, before she could see the
+rider&rsquo;s person she recognized the horse as Tony, the
+lightest of three that Jim and his partner owned, for the purpose
+of carting out lime to their customers.</p>
+<p>Jim, then, had joined the Yeomanry since his estrangement from
+Margery.&nbsp; A man who had worn the young Queen
+Victoria&rsquo;s uniform for seven days only could not be
+expected to look as if it were part of his person, in the manner
+of long-trained soldiers; but he was a well-formed young fellow,
+and of an age when few positions came amiss to one who has the
+capacity to adapt himself to circumstances.</p>
+<p>Meeting the blushing Mrs. Peach (to whom Margery in her mind
+sternly denied the right to blush at all), Jim alighted and moved
+on with her, probably at Mrs. Peach&rsquo;s own suggestion; so
+that what they said, how long they remained together, and how
+they parted, Margery knew not.&nbsp; She might have known some of
+these things by waiting; but the presence of Jim had bred in her
+heart a sudden disgust for the widow, and a general sense of
+discomfiture.&nbsp; She went away in an opposite direction,
+turning her head and saying to the unconscious Jim,
+&lsquo;There&rsquo;s a fine rod in pickle for you, my gentleman,
+if you carry out that pretty scheme!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim&rsquo;s military <i>coup</i> had decidedly astonished
+her.&nbsp;&nbsp; What he might do next she could not
+conjecture.&nbsp; The idea of his doing anything sufficiently
+brilliant to arrest her attention would have seemed ludicrous,
+had not Jim, by entering the Yeomanry, revealed a capacity for
+dazzling exploits which made it unsafe to predict any limitation
+to his powers.</p>
+<p>Margery was now excited.&nbsp; The daring of the wretched Jim
+in bursting into scarlet amazed her as much as his doubtful
+acquaintanceship with the demonstrative Mrs. Peach.&nbsp; To go
+to that Review, to watch the pair, to eclipse Mrs. Peach in
+brilliancy, to meet and pass them in withering contempt&mdash;if
+she only could do it!&nbsp; But, alas! she was a forsaken
+woman.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;If the Baron were alive, or in England,&rsquo; she said
+to herself (for sometimes she thought he might possibly be
+alive), &lsquo;and he were to take me to this Review,
+wouldn&rsquo;t I show that forward Mrs. Peach what a lady is
+like, and keep among the select company, and not mix with the
+common people at all!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>It might at first sight be thought that the best course for
+Margery at this juncture would have been to go to Jim, and nip
+the intrigue in the bud without further scruple.&nbsp; But her
+own declaration in after days was that whoever could say that was
+far from realizing her situation.&nbsp; It was hard to break such
+ice as divided their two lives now, and to attempt it at that
+moment was a too humiliating proclamation of defeat.&nbsp; The
+only plan she could think of&mdash;perhaps not a wise one in the
+circumstances&mdash;was to go to the Review herself; and be the
+gayest there.</p>
+<p>A method of doing this with some propriety soon occurred to
+her.&nbsp; She dared not ask her father, who scorned to waste
+time in sight-seeing, and whose animosity towards Jim knew no
+abatement; but she might call on her old acquaintance, Mr. Vine,
+Jim&rsquo;s partner, who would probably be going with the rest of
+the holiday-folk, and ask if she might accompany him in his
+spring-trap.&nbsp; She had no sooner perceived the feasibility of
+this, through her being at her grandmother&rsquo;s, than she
+decided to meet with the old man early the next morning.</p>
+<p>In the meantime Jim and Mrs. Peach had walked slowly along the
+road together, Jim leading the horse, and Mrs. Peach informing
+him that her father, the gardener, was at Jim&rsquo;s village
+further on, and that she had come to meet him.&nbsp; Jim, for
+reasons of his own, was going to sleep at his partner&rsquo;s
+that night, and thus their route was the same.&nbsp; The shades
+of eve closed in upon them as they walked, and by the time they
+reached the lime-kiln, which it was necessary to pass to get to
+the village, it was quite dark.&nbsp; Jim stopped at the kiln, to
+see if matters had progressed rightly in his seven days&rsquo;
+absence, and Mrs. Peach, who stuck to him like a teazle, stopped
+also, saying she would wait for her father there.</p>
+<p>She held the horse while he ascended to the top of the
+kiln.&nbsp; Then rejoining her, and not quite knowing what to do,
+he stood beside her looking at the flames, which to-night burnt
+up brightly, shining a long way into the dark air, even up to the
+ramparts of the earthwork above them, and overhead into the
+bosoms of the clouds.</p>
+<p>It was during this proceeding that a carriage, drawn by a pair
+of dark horses, came along the turnpike road.&nbsp; The light of
+the kiln caused the horses to swerve a little, and the occupant
+of the carriage looked out.&nbsp; He saw the bluish,
+lightning-like flames from the limestone, rising from the top of
+the furnace, and hard by the figures of Jim Hayward, the widow,
+and the horse, standing out with spectral distinctness against
+the mass of night behind.&nbsp; The scene wore the aspect of some
+unholy assignation in Pandaemonium, and it was all the more
+impressive from the fact that both Jim and the woman were quite
+unconscious of the striking spectacle they presented.&nbsp; The
+gentleman in the carriage watched them till he was borne out of
+sight.</p>
+<p>Having seen to the kiln, Jim and the widow walked on again,
+and soon Mrs. Peach&rsquo;s father met them, and relieved Jim of
+the lady.&nbsp; When they had parted, Jim, with an expiration not
+unlike a breath of relief; went on to Mr. Vine&rsquo;s, and,
+having put the horse into the stable, entered the house.&nbsp;
+His partner was seated at the table, solacing himself after the
+labours of the day by luxurious alternations between a long clay
+pipe and a mug of perry.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; said Jim eagerly, &lsquo;what&rsquo;s the
+news&mdash;how do she take it?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Sit down&mdash;sit down,&rsquo; said Vine.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;&rsquo;Tis working well; not but that I deserve something
+o&rsquo; thee for the trouble I&rsquo;ve had in watching
+her.&nbsp; The soldiering was a fine move; but the woman is a
+better!&mdash;who invented it?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I myself,&rsquo; said Jim modestly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well; jealousy is making her rise like a thunderstorm,
+and in a day or two you&rsquo;ll have her for the asking, my
+sonny.&nbsp; What&rsquo;s the next step?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The widow is getting rather a weight upon a feller,
+worse luck,&rsquo; said Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;But I must keep it up
+until to-morrow, at any rate.&nbsp; I have promised to see her at
+the Review, and now the great thing is that Margery should see we
+a-smiling together&mdash;I in my full-dress uniform and clinking
+arms o&rsquo; war.&nbsp; &rsquo;Twill be a good strong sting, and
+will end the business, I hope.&nbsp; Couldn&rsquo;t you manage to
+put the hoss in and drive her there?&nbsp; She&rsquo;d go if you
+were to ask her.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;With all my heart,&rsquo; said Mr. Vine, moistening the
+end of a new pipe in his perry.&nbsp; &lsquo;I can call at her
+grammer&rsquo;s for her&mdash;&rsquo;twill be all in my
+way.&rsquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+<p>Margery duly followed up her intention by arraying herself the
+next morning in her loveliest guise, and keeping watch for Mr.
+Vine&rsquo;s appearance upon the high road, feeling certain that
+his would form one in the procession of carts and carriages which
+set in towards Exonbury that day.&nbsp; Jim had gone by at a very
+early hour, and she did not see him pass.&nbsp; Her anticipation
+was verified by the advent of Mr. Vine about eleven
+o&rsquo;clock, dressed to his highest effort; but Margery was
+surprised to find that, instead of her having to stop him, he
+pulled in towards the gate of his own accord.&nbsp; The
+invitation planned between Jim and the old man on the previous
+night was now promptly given, and, as may be supposed, as
+promptly accepted.&nbsp; Such a strange coincidence she had never
+before known.&nbsp; She was quite ready, and they drove onward at
+once.</p>
+<p>The Review was held on some high ground a little way out of
+the city, and her conductor suggested that they should put up the
+horse at the inn, and walk to the field&mdash;a plan which
+pleased her well, for it was more easy to take preliminary
+observations on foot without being seen herself than when sitting
+elevated in a vehicle.</p>
+<p>They were just in time to secure a good place near the front,
+and in a few minutes after their arrival the reviewing officer
+came on the ground.&nbsp; Margery&rsquo;s eye had rapidly run
+over the troop in which Jim was enrolled, and she discerned him
+in one of the ranks, looking remarkably new and bright, both as
+to uniform and countenance.&nbsp; Indeed, if she had not worked
+herself into such a desperate state of mind she would have felt
+proud of him then and there.&nbsp; His shapely upright figure was
+quite noteworthy in the row of rotund yeomen on his right and
+left; while his charger Tony expressed by his bearing, even more
+than Jim, that he knew nothing about lime-carts whatever, and
+everything about trumpets and glory.&nbsp; How Jim could have
+scrubbed Tony to such shining blackness she could not tell, for
+the horse in his natural state was ingrained with lime-dust, that
+burnt the colour out of his coat as it did out of Jim&rsquo;s
+hair.&nbsp; Now he pranced martially, and was a war-horse every
+inch of him.</p>
+<p>Having discovered Jim her next search was for Mrs. Peach, and,
+by dint of some oblique glancing Margery indignantly discovered
+the widow in the most forward place of all, her head and bright
+face conspicuously advanced; and, what was more shocking, she had
+abandoned her mourning for a violet drawn-bonnet and a gay
+spencer, together with a parasol luxuriously fringed in a way
+Margery had never before seen.&nbsp; &lsquo;Where did she get the
+money?&rsquo; said Margery, under her breath.&nbsp; &lsquo;And to
+forget that poor sailor so soon!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>These general reflections were precipitately postponed by her
+discovering that Jim and the widow were perfectly alive to each
+other&rsquo;s whereabouts, and in the interchange of telegraphic
+signs of affection, which on the latter&rsquo;s part took the
+form of a playful fluttering of her handkerchief or waving of her
+parasol.&nbsp; Richard Vine had placed Margery in front of him,
+to protect her from the crowd, as he said, he himself surveying
+the scene over her bonnet.&nbsp; Margery would have been even
+more surprised than she was if she had known that Jim was not
+only aware of Mrs. Peach&rsquo;s presence, but also of her own,
+the treacherous Mr. Vine having drawn out his flame-coloured
+handkerchief and waved it to Jim over the young woman&rsquo;s
+head as soon as they had taken up their position.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My partner makes a tidy soldier, eh&mdash;Miss
+Tucker?&rsquo; said the senior lime-burner.&nbsp; &lsquo;It is my
+belief as a Christian that he&rsquo;s got a party here that
+he&rsquo;s making signs to&mdash;that handsome figure o&rsquo;
+fun straight over-right him.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Perhaps so,&rsquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And it&rsquo;s growing warm between &rsquo;em if I
+don&rsquo;t mistake,&rsquo; continued the merciless Vine.</p>
+<p>Margery was silent, biting her lip; and the troops being now
+set in motion, all signalling ceased for the present between
+soldier Hayward and his pretended sweetheart.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Have you a piece of paper that I could make a
+memorandum on, Mr. Vine?&rsquo; asked Margery.</p>
+<p>Vine took out his pocket-book and tore a leaf from it, which
+he handed her with a pencil.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Don&rsquo;t move from here&mdash;I&rsquo;ll return in a
+minute,&rsquo; she continued, with the innocence of a woman who
+means mischief.&nbsp; And, withdrawing herself to the back, where
+the grass was clear, she pencilled down the words</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">&lsquo;<span
+class="smcap">Jim&rsquo;s Married</span>.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Armed with this document she crept into the throng behind the
+unsuspecting Mrs. Peach, slipped the paper into her pocket on the
+top of her handkerchief; and withdrew unobserved, rejoining Mr.
+Vine with a bearing of <i>nonchalance</i>.</p>
+<p>By-and-by the troops were in different order, Jim taking a
+left-hand position almost close to Mrs. Peach.&nbsp; He bent down
+and said a few words to her.&nbsp; From her manner of nodding
+assent it was surely some arrangement about a meeting by-and-by
+when Jim&rsquo;s drill was over, and Margery was more certain of
+the fact when, the Review having ended, and the people having
+strolled off to another part of the field where sports were to
+take place, Mrs. Peach tripped away in the direction of the
+city.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I&rsquo;ll just say a word to my partner afore he goes
+off the ground, if you&rsquo;ll spare me a minute,&rsquo; said
+the old lime-burner.&nbsp; &lsquo;Please stay here till I&rsquo;m
+back again.&rsquo;&nbsp; He edged along the front till he reached
+Jim.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;How is she?&rsquo; said the latter.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;In a trimming sweat,&rsquo; said Mr. Vine.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;And my counsel to &rsquo;ee is to carry this larry no
+further.&nbsp; &rsquo;Twill do no good.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s as
+ready to make friends with &rsquo;ee as any wife can be; and more
+showing off can only do harm.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;But I must finish off with a spurt,&rsquo; said
+Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;And this is how I am going to do it.&nbsp; I
+have arranged with Mrs. Peach that, as soon as we soldiers have
+entered the town and been dismissed, I&rsquo;ll meet her
+there.&nbsp; It is really to say good-bye, but she don&rsquo;t
+know that; and I wanted it to look like a lopement to
+Margery&rsquo;s eyes.&nbsp; When I&rsquo;m clear of Mrs. Peach
+I&rsquo;ll come back here and make it up with Margery on the
+spot.&nbsp; But don&rsquo;t say I&rsquo;m coming, or she may be
+inclined to throw off again.&nbsp; Just hint to her that I may be
+meaning to be off to London with the widow.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The old man still insisted that this was going too far.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No, no, it isn&rsquo;t,&rsquo; said Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;I
+know how to manage her.&nbsp; &rsquo;Twill just mellow her heart
+nicely by the time I come back.&nbsp; I must bring her down real
+tender, or &rsquo;twill all fail.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>His senior reluctantly gave in and returned to Margery.&nbsp;
+A short time afterwards the Yeomanry hand struck up, and Jim with
+the regiment followed towards Exonbury.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, yes; they are going to meet,&rsquo; said Margery
+to herself, perceiving that Mrs. Peach had so timed her departure
+as to be in the town at Jim&rsquo;s dismounting.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Now we will go and see the games,&rsquo; said Mr. Vine;
+&lsquo;they are really worth seeing.&nbsp; There&rsquo;s greasy
+poles, and jumping in sacks, and other trials of the intellect,
+that nobody ought to miss who wants to be abreast of his
+generation.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Margery felt so indignant at the apparent assignation, which
+seemed about to take place despite her anonymous writing, that
+she helplessly assented to go anywhere, dropping behind Vine,
+that he might not see her mood.</p>
+<p>Jim followed out his programme with literal exactness.&nbsp;
+No sooner was the troop dismissed in the city than he sent Tony
+to stable and joined Mrs. Peach, who stood on the edge of the
+pavement expecting him.&nbsp; But this acquaintance was to end:
+he meant to part from her for ever and in the quickest time,
+though civilly; for it was important to be with Margery as soon
+as possible.&nbsp; He had nearly completed the man&oelig;uvre to
+his satisfaction when, in drawing her handkerchief from her
+pocket to wipe the tears from her eyes, Mrs. Peach&rsquo;s hand
+grasped the paper, which she read at once.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;What! is that true?&rsquo; she said, holding it out to
+Jim.</p>
+<p>Jim started and admitted that it was, beginning an elaborate
+explanation and apologies.&nbsp; But Mrs. Peach was thoroughly
+roused, and then overcome.&nbsp; &lsquo;He&rsquo;s married,
+he&rsquo;s married!&rsquo; she said, and swooned, or feigned to
+swoon, so that Jim was obliged to support her.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;He&rsquo;s married, he&rsquo;s married!&rsquo; said a
+boy hard by who watched the scene with interest.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;He&rsquo;s married, he&rsquo;s married!&rsquo; said a
+hilarious group of other boys near, with smiles several inches
+broad, and shining teeth; and so the exclamation echoed down the
+street.</p>
+<p>Jim cursed his ill-luck; the loss of time that this dilemma
+entailed grew serious; for Mrs. Peach was now in such a
+hysterical state that he could not leave her with any good grace
+or feeling.&nbsp; It was necessary to take her to a refreshment
+room, lavish restoratives upon her, and altogether to waste
+nearly half an hour.&nbsp; When she had kept him as long as she
+chose, she forgave him; and thus at last he got away, his heart
+swelling with tenderness towards Margery.&nbsp; He at once
+hurried up the street to effect the reconciliation with her.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;How shall I do it?&rsquo; he said to himself.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Why, I&rsquo;ll step round to her side, fish for her hand,
+draw it through my arm as if I wasn&rsquo;t aware of it.&nbsp;
+Then she&rsquo;ll look in my face, I shall look in hers, and we
+shall march off the field triumphant, and the thing will be done
+without takings or tears.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He entered the field and went straight as an arrow to the
+place appointed for the meeting.&nbsp; It was at the back of a
+refreshment tent outside the mass of spectators, and divided from
+their view by the tent itself.&nbsp; He turned the corner of the
+canvas, and there beheld Vine at the indicated spot.&nbsp; But
+Margery was not with him.</p>
+<p>Vine&rsquo;s hat was thrust back into his poll.&nbsp; His face
+was pale, and his manner bewildered.&nbsp; &lsquo;Hullo?
+what&rsquo;s the matter?&rsquo; said Jim.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Where&rsquo;s my Margery?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You&rsquo;ve carried this footy game too far, my
+man!&rsquo; exclaimed Vine, with the air of a friend who has
+&lsquo;always told you so.&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;You ought to have
+dropped it several days ago, when she would have come to
+&rsquo;ee like a cooing dove.&nbsp; Now this is the end
+o&rsquo;t!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Hey! what, my Margery?&nbsp; Has anything happened, for
+God&rsquo;s sake?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;She&rsquo;s gone.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Where to?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That&rsquo;s more than earthly man can tell!&nbsp; I
+never see such a thing!&nbsp; &rsquo;Twas a stroke o&rsquo; the
+black art&mdash;as if she were sperrited away.&nbsp; When we got
+to the games I said&mdash;mind, you told me to!&mdash;I said,
+&ldquo;Jim Hayward thinks o&rsquo; going off to London with that
+widow woman&rdquo;&mdash;mind you told me to!&nbsp; She showed no
+wonderment, though a&rsquo; seemed very low.&nbsp; Then she said
+to me, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like standing here in this slummocky
+crowd.&nbsp; I shall feel more at home among the
+gentlepeople.&rdquo;&nbsp; And then she went to where the
+carriages were drawn up, and near her there was a grand coach,
+a-blazing with lions and unicorns, and hauled by two coal-black
+horses.&nbsp; I hardly thought much of it then, and by degrees
+lost sight of her behind it.&nbsp; Presently the other carriages
+moved off, and I thought still to see her standing there.&nbsp;
+But no, she had vanished; and then I saw the grand coach rolling
+away, and glimpsed Margery in it, beside a fine dark gentleman
+with black mustachios, and a very pale prince-like face.&nbsp; As
+soon as the horses got into the hard road they rattled on like
+hell-and-skimmer, and went out of sight in the dust,
+and&mdash;that&rsquo;s all.&nbsp; If you&rsquo;d come back a
+little sooner you&rsquo;d ha&rsquo; caught her.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim had turned whiter than his pipeclay.&nbsp; &lsquo;O, this
+is too bad&mdash;too bad!&rsquo; he cried in anguish, striking
+his brow.&nbsp; &lsquo;That paper and that fainting woman kept me
+so long.&nbsp; Who could have done it?&nbsp; But &rsquo;tis my
+fault.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve stung her too much.&nbsp; I
+shouldn&rsquo;t have carried it so far.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You shouldn&rsquo;t&mdash;just what I said,&rsquo;
+replied his senior.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;She thinks I&rsquo;ve gone off with that cust widow;
+and to spite me she&rsquo;s gone off with the man!&nbsp; Do you
+know who that stranger wi&rsquo; the lions and unicorns is?&nbsp;
+Why, &rsquo;tis that foreigner who calls himself a Baron, and
+took Mount Lodge for six months last year to make
+mischief&mdash;a villain!&nbsp; O, my Margery&mdash;that it
+should come to this!&nbsp; She&rsquo;s lost, she&rsquo;s
+ruined!&mdash;Which way did they go?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim turned to follow in the direction indicated, when, behold,
+there stood at his back her father, Dairyman Tucker.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Now look here, young man,&rsquo; said Dairyman
+Tucker.&nbsp; &lsquo;I&rsquo;ve just heard all that
+wailing&mdash;and straightway will ask &rsquo;ee to stop it
+sharp.&nbsp; &rsquo;Tis like your brazen impudence to teave and
+wail when you be another woman&rsquo;s husband; yes, faith, I
+see&rsquo;d her a-fainting in yer arms when you wanted to get
+away from her, and honest folk a-standing round who knew
+you&rsquo;d married her, and said so.&nbsp; I heard it, though
+you didn&rsquo;t see me.&nbsp; &ldquo;He&rsquo;s married!&rdquo;
+says they.&nbsp; Some sly register-office business, no doubt; but
+sly doings will out.&nbsp; As for Margery&mdash;who&rsquo;s to be
+called higher titles in these parts
+hencefor&rsquo;ard&mdash;I&rsquo;m her father, and I say
+it&rsquo;s all right what she&rsquo;s done.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t I
+know private news, hey?&nbsp; Haven&rsquo;t I just learnt that
+secret weddings of high people can happen at expected deathbeds
+by special licence, as well as low people at registrars&rsquo;
+offices?&nbsp; And can&rsquo;t husbands come back and claim their
+own when they choose?&nbsp; Begone, young man, and leave
+noblemen&rsquo;s wives alone; and I thank God I shall be rid of a
+numskull!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Swift words of explanation rose to Jim&rsquo;s lips, but they
+paused there and died.&nbsp; At that last moment he could not, as
+Margery&rsquo;s husband, announce Margery&rsquo;s shame and his
+own, and transform her father&rsquo;s triumph to wretchedness at
+a blow.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;must leave here,&rsquo; he
+stammered.&nbsp; Going from the place in an opposite course to
+that of the fugitives, he doubled when out of sight, and in an
+incredibly short space had entered the town.&nbsp; Here he made
+inquiries for the emblazoned carriage, and gained from one or two
+persons a general idea of its route.&nbsp; They thought it had
+taken the highway to London.&nbsp; Saddling poor Tony before he
+had half eaten his corn, Jim galloped along the same road.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+<p>Now Jim was quite mistaken in supposing that by leaving the
+field in a roundabout manner he had deceived Dairyman Tucker as
+to his object.&nbsp; That astute old man immediately divined that
+Jim was meaning to track the fugitives, in ignorance (as the
+dairyman supposed) of their lawful relation.&nbsp; He was soon
+assured of the fact, for, creeping to a remote angle of the
+field, he saw Jim hastening into the town.&nbsp; Vowing vengeance
+on the young lime-burner for his mischievous interference between
+a nobleman and his secretly-wedded wife, the dairy-farmer
+determined to balk him.</p>
+<p>Tucker had ridden on to the Review ground, so that there was
+no necessity for him, as there had been for poor Jim, to re-enter
+the town before starting.&nbsp; The dairyman hastily untied his
+mare from the row of other horses, mounted, and descended to a
+bridle-path which would take him obliquely into the London road a
+mile or so ahead.&nbsp; The old man&rsquo;s route being along one
+side of an equilateral triangle, while Jim&rsquo;s was along two
+sides of the same, the former was at the point of intersection
+long before Hayward.</p>
+<p>Arrived here, the dairyman pulled up and looked around.&nbsp;
+It was a spot at which the highway forked; the left arm, the more
+important, led on through Sherton Abbas and Melchester to London;
+the right to Idmouth and the coast.&nbsp; Nothing was visible on
+the white track to London; but on the other there appeared the
+back of a carriage, which rapidly ascended a distant hill and
+vanished under the trees.&nbsp; It was the Baron&rsquo;s who,
+according to the sworn information of the gardener at Mount
+Lodge, had made Margery his wife.</p>
+<p>The carriage having vanished, the dairyman gazed in the
+opposite direction, towards Exonbury.&nbsp; Here he beheld Jim in
+his regimentals, laboriously approaching on Tony&rsquo;s
+back.</p>
+<p>Soon he reached the forking roads, and saw the dairyman by the
+wayside.&nbsp; But Jim did not halt.&nbsp; Then the dairyman
+practised the greatest duplicity of his life.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Right along the London road, if you want to catch
+&rsquo;em!&rsquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Thank &rsquo;ee, dairyman, thank &rsquo;ee!&rsquo;
+cried Jim, his pale face lighting up with gratitude, for he
+believed that Tucker had learnt his mistake from Vine, and had
+come to his assistance.&nbsp; Without drawing rein he diminished
+along the road not taken by the flying pair.&nbsp; The dairyman
+rubbed his hands with delight, and returned to the city as the
+cathedral clock struck five.</p>
+<p>Jim pursued his way through the dust, up hill and down hill;
+but never saw ahead of him the vehicle of his search.&nbsp; That
+vehicle was passing along a diverging way at a distance of many
+miles from where he rode.&nbsp; Still he sped onwards, till Tony
+showed signs of breaking down; and then Jim gathered from
+inquiries he made that he had come the wrong way.&nbsp; It burst
+upon his mind that the dairyman, still ignorant of the truth, had
+misinformed him.&nbsp; Heavier in his heart than words can
+describe he turned Tony&rsquo;s drooping head, and resolved to
+drag his way home.</p>
+<p>But the horse was now so jaded that it was impossible to
+proceed far.&nbsp; Having gone about half a mile back he came
+again to a small roadside hamlet and inn, where he put up Tony
+for a rest and feed.&nbsp; As for himself, there was no quiet in
+him.&nbsp; He tried to sit and eat in the inn kitchen; but he
+could not stay there.&nbsp; He went out, and paced up and down
+the road.</p>
+<p>Standing in sight of the white way by which he had come he
+beheld advancing towards him the horses and carriage he sought,
+now black and daemonic against the slanting fires of the western
+sun.</p>
+<p>The why and wherefore of this sudden appearance he did not
+pause to consider.&nbsp; His resolve to intercept the carriage
+was instantaneous.&nbsp; He ran forward, and doggedly waiting
+barred the way to the advancing equipage.</p>
+<p>The Baron&rsquo;s coachman shouted, but Jim stood firm as a
+rock, and on the former attempting to push past him Jim drew his
+sword, resolving to cut the horses down rather than be
+displaced.&nbsp; The animals were thrown nearly back upon their
+haunches, and at this juncture a gentleman looked out of the
+window.&nbsp; It was the Baron himself.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Who&rsquo;s there?&rsquo; he inquired.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;James Hayward!&rsquo; replied the young man fiercely,
+&lsquo;and he demands his wife.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The Baron leapt out, and told the coachman to drive back out
+of sight and wait for him.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I was hastening to find you,&rsquo; he said to
+Jim.&nbsp; &lsquo;Your wife is where she ought to be, and where
+you ought to be also&mdash;by your own fireside.&nbsp;
+Where&rsquo;s the other woman?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim, without replying, looked incredulously into the carriage
+as it turned.&nbsp; Margery was certainly not there.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;The other woman is nothing to me,&rsquo; he said
+bitterly.&nbsp; &lsquo;I used her to warm up Margery: I have now
+done with her.&nbsp; The question I ask, my lord, is, what
+business had you with Margery to-day?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My business was to help her to regain the husband she
+had seemingly lost.&nbsp; I saw her; she told me you had eloped
+by the London road with another.&nbsp; I, who
+have&mdash;mostly&mdash;had her happiness at heart, told her I
+would help her to follow you if she wished.&nbsp; She gladly
+agreed; we drove after, but could hear no tidings of you in front
+of us.&nbsp; Then I took her&mdash;to your house&mdash;and there
+she awaits you.&nbsp; I promised to send you to her if human
+effort could do it, and was tracking you for that
+purpose.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Then you&rsquo;ve been a-pursuing after me?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You and the widow.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And I&rsquo;ve been pursuing after you and
+Margery!&nbsp; My noble lord, your actions seem to show that I
+ought to believe you in this; and when you say you&rsquo;ve her
+happiness at heart, I don&rsquo;t forget that you&rsquo;ve
+formerly proved it to be so.&nbsp; Well, Heaven forbid that I
+should think wrongfully of you if you don&rsquo;t deserve
+it!&nbsp; A mystery to me you have always been, my noble lord,
+and in this business more than in any.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I am glad to hear you say no worse.&nbsp; In one hour
+you&rsquo;ll have proof of my conduct&mdash;good and bad.&nbsp;
+Can I do anything more?&nbsp; Say the word, and I&rsquo;ll
+try.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Jim reflected.&nbsp; &lsquo;Baron,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;I am
+a plain man, and wish only to lead a quiet life with my wife, as
+a man should.&nbsp; You have great power over her&mdash;power to
+any extent, for good or otherwise.&nbsp; If you command her
+anything on earth, righteous or questionable, that she&rsquo;ll
+do.&nbsp; So that, since you ask me if you can do more for me,
+I&rsquo;ll answer this, you can promise never to see her
+again.&nbsp; I mean no harm, my lord; but your presence can do no
+good; you will trouble us.&nbsp; If I return to her, will you for
+ever stay away?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Hayward,&rsquo; said the Baron, &lsquo;I swear to you
+that I will disturb you and your wife by my presence no
+more.&nbsp; And he took Jim&rsquo;s hand, and pressed it within
+his own upon the hilt of Jim&rsquo;s sword.</p>
+<p>In relating this incident to the present narrator Jim used to
+declare that, to his fancy, the ruddy light of the setting sun
+burned with more than earthly fire on the Baron&rsquo;s face as
+the words were spoken; and that the ruby flash of his eye in the
+same light was what he never witnessed before nor since in the
+eye of mortal man.&nbsp; After this there was nothing more to do
+or say in that place.&nbsp; Jim accompanied his
+never-to-be-forgotten acquaintance to the carriage, closed the
+door after him, waved his hat to him, and from that hour he and
+the Baron met not again on earth.</p>
+<p>A few words will suffice to explain the fortunes of Margery
+while the foregoing events were in action elsewhere.&nbsp; On
+leaving her companion Vine she had gone distractedly among the
+carriages, the rather to escape his observation than of any set
+purpose.&nbsp; Standing here she thought she heard her name
+pronounced, and turning, saw her foreign friend, whom she had
+supposed to be, if not dead, a thousand miles off.&nbsp; He
+beckoned, and she went close.&nbsp; &lsquo;You are ill&mdash;you
+are wretched,&rsquo; he said, looking keenly in her face.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Where&rsquo;s your husband?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She told him her sad suspicion that Jim had run away from
+her.&nbsp; The Baron reflected, and inquired a few other
+particulars of her late life.&nbsp; Then he said: &lsquo;You and
+I must find him.&nbsp; Come with me.&rsquo;&nbsp; At this word of
+command from the Baron she had entered the carriage as docilely
+as a child, and there she sat beside him till he chose to speak,
+which was not till they were some way out of the town, at the
+forking ways, and the Baron had discovered that Jim was certainly
+not, as they had supposed, making off from Margery along that
+particular branch of the fork that led to London.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;To pursue him in this way is useless, I
+perceive,&rsquo; he said.&nbsp; &lsquo;And the proper course now
+is that I should take you to his house.&nbsp; That done I will
+return, and bring him to you if mortal persuasion can do
+it.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I didn&rsquo;t want to go to his house without him,
+sir,&rsquo; said she, tremblingly.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Didn&rsquo;t want to!&rsquo; he answered.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Let me remind you, Margery Hayward, that your place is in
+your husband&rsquo;s house.&nbsp; Till you are there you have no
+right to criticize his conduct, however wild it may be.&nbsp; Why
+have you not been there before?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know, sir,&rsquo; she murmured, her tears
+falling silently upon her hand.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Don&rsquo;t you think you ought to be there?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She did not answer.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Of course you ought.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Still she did not speak.</p>
+<p>The Baron sank into silence, and allowed his eye to rest on
+her.&nbsp; What thoughts were all at once engaging his mind after
+those moments of reproof?&nbsp; Margery had given herself into
+his hands without a remonstrance, her husband had apparently
+deserted her.&nbsp; She was absolutely in his power, and they
+were on the high road.</p>
+<p>That his first impulse in inviting her to accompany him had
+been the legitimate one denoted by his words cannot reasonably be
+doubted.&nbsp; That his second was otherwise soon became
+revealed, though not at first to her, for she was too bewildered
+to notice where they were going.&nbsp; Instead of turning and
+taking the road to Jim&rsquo;s, the Baron, as if influenced
+suddenly by her reluctance to return thither if Jim was playing
+truant, signalled to the coachman to take the branch road to the
+right, as her father had discerned.</p>
+<p>They soon approached the coast near Idmouth.&nbsp; The
+carriage stopped.&nbsp; Margery awoke from her reverie.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Where are we?&rsquo; she said, looking out of the
+window, with a start.&nbsp; Before her was an inlet of the sea,
+and in the middle of the inlet rode a yacht, its masts repeating
+as if from memory the rocking they had practised in their native
+forest.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;At a little sea-side nook, where my yacht lies at
+anchor,&rsquo; he said tentatively.&nbsp; &lsquo;Now, Margery, in
+five minutes we can be aboard, and in half an hour we can be
+sailing away all the world over.&nbsp; Will you come?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I cannot decide,&rsquo; she said, in low tones.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why not?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Because&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Then on a sudden, Margery seemed to see all contingencies: she
+became white as a fleece, and a bewildered look came into her
+eyes.&nbsp; With clasped hands she leant on the Baron.</p>
+<p>Baron von Xanten observed her distracted look, averted his
+face, and coming to a decision opened the carriage door, quickly
+mounted outside, and in a second or two the carriage left the
+shore behind, and ascended the road by which it had come.</p>
+<p>In about an hour they reached Jim Hayward&rsquo;s home.&nbsp;
+The Baron alighted, and spoke to her through the window.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Margery, can you forgive a lover&rsquo;s bad impulse,
+which I swear was unpremeditated?&rsquo; he asked.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;If you can, shake my hand.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>She did not do it, but eventually allowed him to help her out
+of the carriage.&nbsp; He seemed to feel the awkwardness keenly;
+and seeing it, she said, &lsquo;Of course I forgive you, sir, for
+I felt for a moment as you did.&nbsp; Will you send my husband to
+me?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I will, if any man can,&rsquo; said he.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Such penance is milder than I deserve!&nbsp; God bless you
+and give you happiness!&nbsp; I shall never see you
+again!&rsquo;&nbsp; He turned, entered the carriage, and was
+gone; and having found out Jim&rsquo;s course, came up with him
+upon the road as described.</p>
+<p>In due time the latter reached his lodging at his
+partner&rsquo;s.&nbsp; The woman who took care of the house in
+Vine&rsquo;s absence at once told Jim that a lady who had come in
+a carriage was waiting for him in his sitting-room.&nbsp; Jim
+proceeded thither with agitation, and beheld, shrinkingly
+ensconced in the large slippery chair, and surrounded by the
+brilliant articles that had so long awaited her, his
+long-estranged wife.</p>
+<p>Margery&rsquo;s eyes were round and fear-stricken.&nbsp; She
+essayed to speak, but Jim, strangely enough, found the readier
+tongue then.&nbsp; &lsquo;Why did I do it, you would ask,&rsquo;
+he said.&nbsp; &lsquo;I cannot tell.&nbsp; Do you forgive my
+deception?&nbsp; O Margery&mdash;you are my Margery still!&nbsp;
+But how could you trust yourself in the Baron&rsquo;s hands this
+afternoon, without knowing him better?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;He said I was to come, and I went,&rsquo; she said, as
+well as she could for tearfulness.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You obeyed him blindly.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I did.&nbsp; But perhaps I was not justified in doing
+it.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rsquo; said Jim musingly.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;I think he&rsquo;s a good man.&rsquo;&nbsp; Margery did
+not explain.&nbsp; And then a sunnier mood succeeded her
+tremblings and tears, till old Mr. Vine came into the house
+below, and Jim went down to declare that all was well, and sent
+off his partner to break the news to Margery&rsquo;s father, who
+as yet remained unenlightened.</p>
+<p>The dairyman bore the intelligence of his daughter&rsquo;s
+untitled state as best he could, and punished her by not coming
+near her for several weeks, though at last he grumbled his
+forgiveness, and made up matters with Jim.&nbsp; The handsome
+Mrs. Peach vanished to Plymouth, and found another sailor, not
+without a reasonable complaint against Jim and Margery both that
+she had been unfairly used.</p>
+<p>As for the mysterious gentleman who had exercised such an
+influence over their lives, he kept his word, and was a stranger
+to Lower Wessex thenceforward.&nbsp; Baron or no Baron,
+Englishman or foreigner, he had shown a genuine interest in Jim,
+and real sorrow for a certain reckless phase of his acquaintance
+with Margery.&nbsp; That he had a more tender feeling toward the
+young girl than he wished her or any one else to perceive there
+could be no doubt.&nbsp; That he was strongly tempted at times to
+adopt other than conventional courses with regard to her is also
+clear, particularly at that critical hour when she rolled along
+the high road with him in the carriage, after turning from the
+fancied pursuit of Jim.&nbsp; But at other times he schooled
+impassioned sentiments into fair conduct, which even erred on the
+side of harshness.&nbsp; In after years there was a report that
+another attempt on his life with a pistol, during one of those
+fits of moodiness to which he seemed constitutionally liable, had
+been effectual; but nobody in Silverthorn was in a position to
+ascertain the truth.</p>
+<p>There he is still regarded as one who had something about him
+magical and unearthly.&nbsp; In his mystery let him remain; for a
+man, no less than a landscape, who awakens an interest under
+uncertain lights and touches of unfathomable shade, may cut but a
+poor figure in a garish noontide shine.</p>
+<p>When she heard of his mournful death Margery sat in her
+nursing-chair, gravely thinking for nearly ten minutes, to the
+total neglect of her infant in the cradle.&nbsp; Jim, from the
+other side of the fire-place, said: &lsquo;You are sorry enough
+for him, Margery.&nbsp; I am sure of that.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, yes,&rsquo; she murmured, &lsquo;I am
+sorry.&rsquo;&nbsp; After a moment she added: &lsquo;Now that
+he&rsquo;s dead I&rsquo;ll make a confession, Jim, that I have
+never made to a soul.&nbsp; If he had pressed me&mdash;which he
+did not&mdash;to go with him when I was in the carriage that
+night beside his yacht, I would have gone.&nbsp; And I was
+disappointed that he did not press me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Suppose he were to suddenly appear now, and say in a
+voice of command, &ldquo;Margery, come with me!&rdquo;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I believe I should have no power to disobey,&rsquo; she
+returned, with a mischievous look.&nbsp; &lsquo;He was like a
+magician to me.&nbsp; I think he was one.&nbsp; He could move me
+as a loadstone moves a speck of steel . . . Yet no,&rsquo; she
+added, hearing the infant cry, &lsquo;he would not move me
+now.&nbsp; It would be so unfair to baby.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; said Jim, with no great concern (for
+&lsquo;<i>la jalousie r&eacute;trospective</i>,&rsquo; as George
+Sand calls it, had nearly died out of him), &lsquo;however he
+might move &rsquo;ee, my love, he&rsquo;ll never come.&nbsp; He
+swore it to me: and he was a man of his word.&rsquo;</p>
+<p><i>Midsummer</i>, 1883.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A
+MILKMAID***</p>
+<pre>
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+Title:  The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid
+
+Author:  Thomas Hardy
+
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+
+
+THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A MILKMAID
+
+by Thomas Hardy
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+
+It was half-past four o'clock (by the testimony of the land-surveyor,
+my authority for the particulars of this story, a gentleman with the
+faintest curve of humour on his lips); it was half-past four o'clock
+on a May morning in the eighteen forties.  A dense white fog hung
+over the Valley of the Exe, ending against the hills on either side.
+
+But though nothing in the vale could be seen from higher ground,
+notes of differing kinds gave pretty clear indications that bustling
+life was going on there.  This audible presence and visual absence of
+an active scene had a peculiar effect above the fog level.  Nature
+had laid a white hand over the creatures ensconced within the vale,
+as a hand might be laid over a nest of chirping birds.
+
+The noises that ascended through the pallid coverlid were perturbed
+lowings, mingled with human voices in sharps and flats, and the bark
+of a dog.  These, followed by the slamming of a gate, explained as
+well as eyesight could have done, to any inhabitant of the district,
+that Dairyman Tucker's under-milker was driving the cows from the
+meads into the stalls.  When a rougher accent joined in the
+vociferations of man and beast, it would have been realized that the
+dairy-farmer himself had come out to meet the cows, pail in hand, and
+white pinafore on; and when, moreover, some women's voices joined in
+the chorus, that the cows were stalled and proceedings about to
+commence.
+
+A hush followed, the atmosphere being so stagnant that the milk could
+be heard buzzing into the pails, together with occasional words of
+the milkmaids and men.
+
+'Don't ye bide about long upon the road, Margery.  You can be back
+again by skimming-time.'
+
+The rough voice of Dairyman Tucker was the vehicle of this remark.
+The barton-gate slammed again, and in two or three minutes a
+something became visible, rising out of the fog in that quarter.
+
+The shape revealed itself as that of a woman having a young and agile
+gait.  The colours and other details of her dress were then
+disclosed--a bright pink cotton frock (because winter was over); a
+small woollen shawl of shepherd's plaid (because summer was not
+come); a white handkerchief tied over her head-gear, because it was
+so foggy, so damp, and so early; and a straw bonnet and ribbons
+peeping from under the handkerchief, because it was likely to be a
+sunny May day.
+
+Her face was of the hereditary type among families down in these
+parts:  sweet in expression, perfect in hue, and somewhat irregular
+in feature.  Her eyes were of a liquid brown.  On her arm she carried
+a withy basket, in which lay several butter-rolls in a nest of wet
+cabbage-leaves.  She was the 'Margery' who had been told not to 'bide
+about long upon the road.'
+
+She went on her way across the fields, sometimes above the fog,
+sometimes below it, not much perplexed by its presence except when
+the track was so indefinite that it ceased to be a guide to the next
+stile.  The dampness was such that innumerable earthworms lay in
+couples across the path till, startled even by her light tread, they
+withdrew suddenly into their holes.  She kept clear of all trees.
+Why was that?  There was no danger of lightning on such a morning as
+this.  But though the roads were dry the fog had gathered in the
+boughs, causing them to set up such a dripping as would go clean
+through the protecting handkerchief like bullets, and spoil the
+ribbons beneath.  The beech and ash were particularly shunned, for
+they dripped more maliciously than any.  It was an instance of
+woman's keen appreciativeness of nature's moods and peculiarities:  a
+man crossing those fields might hardly have perceived that the trees
+dripped at all.
+
+In less than an hour she had traversed a distance of four miles, and
+arrived at a latticed cottage in a secluded spot.  An elderly woman,
+scarce awake, answered her knocking.  Margery delivered up the
+butter, and said, 'How is granny this morning?  I can't stay to go up
+to her, but tell her I have returned what we owed her.'
+
+Her grandmother was no worse than usual:  and receiving back the
+empty basket the girl proceeded to carry out some intention which had
+not been included in her orders.  Instead of returning to the light
+labours of skimming-time, she hastened on, her direction being
+towards a little neighbouring town.  Before, however, Margery had
+proceeded far, she met the postman, laden to the neck with letter-
+bags, of which he had not yet deposited one.
+
+'Are the shops open yet, Samuel?' she said.
+
+'O no,' replied that stooping pedestrian, not waiting to stand
+upright.  'They won't be open yet this hour, except the saddler and
+ironmonger and little tacker-haired machine-man for the farm folk.
+They downs their shutters at half-past six, then the baker's at half-
+past seven, then the draper's at eight.'
+
+'O, the draper's at eight.'  It was plain that Margery had wanted the
+draper's.
+
+The postman turned up a side-path, and the young girl, as though
+deciding within herself that if she could not go shopping at once she
+might as well get back for the skimming, retraced her steps.
+
+The public road home from this point was easy but devious.  By far
+the nearest way was by getting over a fence, and crossing the private
+grounds of a picturesque old country-house, whose chimneys were just
+visible through the trees.  As the house had been shut up for many
+months, the girl decided to take the straight cut.  She pushed her
+way through the laurel bushes, sheltering her bonnet with the shawl
+as an additional safeguard, scrambled over an inner boundary, went
+along through more shrubberies, and stood ready to emerge upon the
+open lawn.  Before doing so she looked around in the wary manner of a
+poacher.  It was not the first time that she had broken fence in her
+life; but somehow, and all of a sudden, she had felt herself too near
+womanhood to indulge in such practices with freedom.  However, she
+moved forth, and the house-front stared her in the face, at this
+higher level unobscured by fog.
+
+It was a building of the medium size, and unpretending, the facade
+being of stone; and of the Italian elevation made familiar by Inigo
+Jones and his school.  There was a doorway to the lawn, standing at
+the head of a flight of steps.  The shutters of the house were
+closed, and the blinds of the bedrooms drawn down.  Her perception of
+the fact that no crusty caretaker could see her from the windows led
+her at once to slacken her pace, and stroll through the flower-beds
+coolly.  A house unblinded is a possible spy, and must be treated
+accordingly; a house with the shutters together is an insensate heap
+of stone and mortar, to be faced with indifference.
+
+On the other side of the house the greensward rose to an eminence,
+whereon stood one of those curious summer shelters sometimes erected
+on exposed points of view, called an all-the-year-round.  In the
+present case it consisted of four walls radiating from a centre like
+the arms of a turnstile, with seats in each angle, so that
+whencesoever the wind came, it was always possible to find a screened
+corner from which to observe the landscape.
+
+The milkmaid's trackless course led her up the hill and past this
+erection.  At ease as to being watched and scolded as an intruder,
+her mind flew to other matters; till, at the moment when she was not
+a yard from the shelter, she heard a foot or feet scraping on the
+gravel behind it.  Some one was in the all-the-year-round, apparently
+occupying the seat on the other side; as was proved when, on turning,
+she saw an elbow, a man's elbow, projecting over the edge.
+
+Now the young woman did not much like the idea of going down the hill
+under the eyes of this person, which she would have to do if she went
+on, for as an intruder she was liable to be called back and
+questioned upon her business there.  Accordingly she crept softly up
+and sat in the seat behind, intending to remain there until her
+companion should leave.
+
+This he by no means seemed in a hurry to do.  What could possibly
+have brought him there, what could detain him there, at six o'clock
+on a morning of mist when there was nothing to be seen or enjoyed of
+the vale beneath, puzzled her not a little.  But he remained quite
+still, and Margery grew impatient.  She discerned the track of his
+feet in the dewy grass, forming a line from the house steps, which
+announced that he was an inhabitant and not a chance passer-by.  At
+last she peeped round.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+
+A fine-framed dark-mustachioed gentleman, in dressing-gown and
+slippers, was sitting there in the damp without a hat on.  With one
+hand he was tightly grasping his forehead, the other hung over his
+knee.  The attitude bespoke with sufficient clearness a mental
+condition of anguish.  He was quite a different being from any of the
+men to whom her eyes were accustomed.  She had never seen mustachios
+before, for they were not worn by civilians in Lower Wessex at this
+date.  His hands and his face were white--to her view deadly white--
+and he heeded nothing outside his own existence.  There he remained
+as motionless as the bushes around him; indeed, he scarcely seemed to
+breathe.
+
+Having imprudently advanced thus far, Margery's wish was to get back
+again in the same unseen manner; but in moving her foot for the
+purpose it grated on the gravel.  He started up with an air of
+bewilderment, and slipped something into the pocket of his dressing-
+gown.  She was almost certain that it was a pistol.  The pair stood
+looking blankly at each other.
+
+'My Gott, who are you?' he asked sternly, and with not altogether an
+English articulation.  'What do you do here?'
+
+Margery had already begun to be frightened at her boldness in
+invading the lawn and pleasure-seat.  The house had a master, and she
+had not known of it.  'My name is Margaret Tucker, sir,' she said
+meekly.  'My father is Dairyman Tucker.  We live at Silverthorn
+Dairy-house.'
+
+'What were you doing here at this hour of the morning?'
+
+She told him, even to the fact that she had climbed over the fence.
+
+'And what made you peep round at me?'
+
+'I saw your elbow, sir; and I wondered what you were doing?'
+
+'And what was I doing?'
+
+'Nothing.  You had one hand on your forehead and the other on your
+knee.  I do hope you are not ill, sir, or in deep trouble?'  Margery
+had sufficient tact to say nothing about the pistol.
+
+'What difference would it make to you if I were ill or in trouble?
+You don't know me.'
+
+She returned no answer, feeling that she might have taken a liberty
+in expressing sympathy.  But, looking furtively up at him, she
+discerned to her surprise that he seemed affected by her humane wish,
+simply as it had been expressed.  She had scarcely conceived that
+such a tall dark man could know what gentle feelings were.
+
+'Well, I am much obliged to you for caring how I am,' said he with a
+faint smile and an affected lightness of manner which, even to her,
+only rendered more apparent the gloom beneath.  'I have not slept
+this past night.  I suffer from sleeplessness.  Probably you do not.'
+
+Margery laughed a little, and he glanced with interest at the comely
+picture she presented; her fresh face, brown hair, candid eyes,
+unpractised manner, country dress, pink hands, empty wicker-basket,
+and the handkerchief over her bonnet.
+
+'Well,' he said, after his scrutiny, 'I need hardly have asked such a
+question of one who is Nature's own image . . . Ah, but my good
+little friend,' he added, recurring to his bitter tone and sitting
+wearily down, 'you don't know what great clouds can hang over some
+people's lives, and what cowards some men are in face of them.  To
+escape themselves they travel, take picturesque houses, and engage in
+country sports.  But here it is so dreary, and the fog was horrible
+this morning!'
+
+'Why, this is only the pride of the morning!' said Margery.  'By-and-
+by it will be a beautiful day.'
+
+She was going on her way forthwith; but he detained her--detained her
+with words, talking on every innocent little subject he could think
+of.  He had an object in keeping her there more serious than his
+words would imply.  It was as if he feared to be left alone.
+
+While they still stood, the misty figure of the postman, whom Margery
+had left a quarter of an hour earlier to follow his sinuous course,
+crossed the grounds below them on his way to the house.  Signifying
+to Margery by a wave of his hand that she was to step back out of
+sight, in the hinder angle of the shelter, the gentleman beckoned to
+the postman to bring the bag to where he stood.  The man did so, and
+again resumed his journey.
+
+The stranger unlocked the bag and threw it on the seat, having taken
+one letter from within.  This he read attentively, and his
+countenance changed.
+
+The change was almost phantasmagorial, as if the sun had burst
+through the fog upon that face:  it became clear, bright, almost
+radiant.  Yet it was but a change that may take place in the
+commonest human being, provided his countenance be not too wooden, or
+his artifice have not grown to second nature.  He turned to Margery,
+who was again edging off, and, seizing her hand, appeared as though
+he were about to embrace her.  Checking his impulse, he said, 'My
+guardian child--my good friend--you have saved me!'
+
+'What from?' she ventured to ask.
+
+'That you may never know.'
+
+She thought of the weapon, and guessed that the letter he had just
+received had effected this change in his mood, but made no
+observation till he went on to say, 'What did you tell me was your
+name, dear girl?'
+
+She repeated her name.
+
+'Margaret Tucker.'  He stooped, and pressed her hand.  'Sit down for
+a moment--one moment,' he said, pointing to the end of the seat, and
+taking the extremest further end for himself, not to discompose her.
+She sat down.
+
+'It is to ask a question,' he went on, 'and there must be confidence
+between us.  You have saved me from an act of madness!  What can I do
+for you?'
+
+'Nothing, sir.'
+
+'Nothing?'
+
+'Father is very well off, and we don't want anything.'
+
+'But there must be some service I can render, some kindness, some
+votive offering which I could make, and so imprint on your memory as
+long as you live that I am not an ungrateful man?'
+
+'Why should you be grateful to me, sir?'
+
+He shook his head.  'Some things are best left unspoken.  Now think.
+What would you like to have best in the world?'
+
+Margery made a pretence of reflecting--then fell to reflecting
+seriously; but the negative was ultimately as undisturbed as ever:
+she could not decide on anything she would like best in the world; it
+was too difficult, too sudden.
+
+'Very well--don't hurry yourself.  Think it over all day.  I ride
+this afternoon.  You live--where?'
+
+'Silverthorn Dairy-house.'
+
+'I will ride that way homeward this evening.  Do you consider by
+eight o'clock what little article, what little treat, you would most
+like of any.'
+
+'I will, sir,' said Margery, now warming up to the idea.  'Where
+shall I meet you?  Or will you call at the house, sir?'
+
+'Ah--no.  I should not wish the circumstances known out of which our
+acquaintance rose.  It would be more proper--but no.'
+
+Margery, too, seemed rather anxious that he should not call.  'I
+could come out, sir,' she said.  'My father is odd-tempered, and
+perhaps--'
+
+It was agreed that she should look over a stile at the top of her
+father's garden, and that he should ride along a bridle-path outside,
+to receive her answer.  'Margery,' said the gentleman in conclusion,
+'now that you have discovered me under ghastly conditions, are you
+going to reveal them, and make me an object for the gossip of the
+curious?'
+
+'No, no, sir!' she replied earnestly.  'Why should I do that?'
+
+'You will never tell?'
+
+'Never, never will I tell what has happened here this morning.'
+
+'Neither to your father, nor to your friends, nor to any one?'
+
+'To no one at all,' she said.
+
+'It is sufficient,' he answered.  'You mean what you say, my dear
+maiden.  Now you want to leave me.  Good-bye!'
+
+She descended the hill, walking with some awkwardness; for she felt
+the stranger's eyes were upon her till the fog had enveloped her from
+his gaze.  She took no notice now of the dripping from the trees; she
+was lost in thought on other things.  Had she saved this handsome,
+melancholy, sleepless, foreign gentleman who had had a trouble on his
+mind till the letter came?  What had he been going to do?  Margery
+could guess that he had meditated death at his own hand.  Strange as
+the incident had been in itself; to her it had seemed stranger even
+than it was.  Contrasting colours heighten each other by being
+juxtaposed; it is the same with contrasting lives.
+
+Reaching the opposite side of the park there appeared before her for
+the third time that little old man, the foot-post.  As the turnpike-
+road ran, the postman's beat was twelve miles a day; six miles out
+from the town, and six miles back at night.  But what with zigzags,
+devious ways, offsets to country seats, curves to farms, looped
+courses, and triangles to outlying hamlets, the ground actually
+covered by him was nearer one-and-twenty miles.  Hence it was that
+Margery, who had come straight, was still abreast of him, despite her
+long pause.
+
+The weighty sense that she was mixed up in a tragical secret with an
+unknown and handsome stranger prevented her joining very readily in
+chat with the postman for some time.  But a keen interest in her
+adventure caused her to respond at once when the bowed man of mails
+said, 'You hit athwart the grounds of Mount Lodge, Miss Margery, or
+you wouldn't ha' met me here.  Well, somebody hey took the old place
+at last.'
+
+In acknowledging her route Margery brought herself to ask who the new
+gentleman might be.
+
+'Guide the girl's heart!  What! don't she know?  And yet how should
+ye--he's only just a-come.--Well, nominal, he's a fishing gentleman,
+come for the summer only.  But, more to the subject, he's a foreign
+noble that's lived in England so long as to be without any true
+country:  some of his letters call him Baron, some Squire, so that 'a
+must be born to something that can't be earned by elbow-grease and
+Christian conduct.  He was out this morning a-watching the fog.
+"Postman," 'a said, "good-morning:  give me the bag."  O, yes, 'a's a
+civil genteel nobleman enough.'
+
+'Took the house for fishing, did he?'
+
+'That's what they say, and as it can be for nothing else I suppose
+it's true.  But, in final, his health's not good, 'a b'lieve; he's
+been living too rithe.  The London smoke got into his wyndpipe, till
+'a couldn't eat.  However, I shouldn't mind having the run of his
+kitchen.'
+
+'And what is his name?'
+
+'Ah--there you have me!  'Tis a name no man's tongue can tell, or
+even woman's, except by pen-and-ink and good scholarship.  It begins
+with X, and who, without the machinery of a clock in's inside, can
+speak that?  But here 'tis--from his letters.'  The postman with his
+walking-stick wrote upon the ground,
+
+'BARON VON XANTEN'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+
+The day, as she had prognosticated, turned out fine; for weather-
+wisdom was imbibed with their milk-sops by the children of the Exe
+Vale.  The impending meeting excited Margery, and she performed her
+duties in her father's house with mechanical unconsciousness.
+
+Milking, skimming, cheesemaking were done.  Her father was asleep in
+the settle, the milkmen and maids were gone home to their cottages,
+and the clock showed a quarter to eight.  She dressed herself with
+care, went to the top of the garden, and looked over the stile.  The
+view was eastward, and a great moon hung before her in a sky which
+had not a cloud.  Nothing was moving except on the minutest scale,
+and she remained leaning over, the night-hawk sounding his croud from
+the bough of an isolated tree on the open hill side.
+
+Here Margery waited till the appointed time had passed by three-
+quarters of an hour; but no Baron came.  She had been full of an
+idea, and her heart sank with disappointment.  Then at last the
+pacing of a horse became audible on the soft path without, leading up
+from the water-meads, simultaneously with which she beheld the form
+of the stranger, riding home, as he had said.
+
+The moonlight so flooded her face as to make her very conspicuous in
+the garden-gap.  'Ah my maiden--what is your name--Margery!' he said.
+'How came you here?  But of course I remember--we were to meet.  And
+it was to be at eight--proh pudor!--I have kept you waiting!'
+
+'It doesn't matter, sir.  I've thought of something.'
+
+'Thought of something?'
+
+'Yes, sir.  You said this morning that I was to think what I would
+like best in the world, and I have made up my mind.'
+
+'I did say so--to be sure I did,' he replied, collecting his
+thoughts.  'I remember to have had good reason for gratitude to you.'
+He placed his hand to his brow, and in a minute alighted, and came up
+to her with the bridle in his hand.  'I was to give you a treat or
+present, and you could not think of one.  Now you have done so.  Let
+me hear what it is, and I'll be as good as my word.'
+
+'To go to the Yeomanry Ball that's to be given this month.'
+
+'The Yeomanry Ball--Yeomanry Ball?' he murmured, as if, of all
+requests in the world, this was what he had least expected.  'Where
+is what you call the Yeomanry Ball?'
+
+'At Exonbury.'
+
+'Have you ever been to it before?'
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+'Or to any ball?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'But did I not say a gift--a present?'
+
+'Or a treat?'
+
+'Ah, yes, or a treat,' he echoed, with the air of one who finds
+himself in a slight fix.  'But with whom would you propose to go?'
+
+'I don't know.  I have not thought of that yet.'
+
+'You have no friend who could take you, even if I got you an
+invitation?'
+
+Margery looked at the moon.  'No one who can dance,' she said;
+adding, with hesitation, 'I was thinking that perhaps--'
+
+'But, my dear Margery,' he said, stopping her, as if he half-divined
+what her simple dream of a cavalier had been; 'it is very odd that
+you can think of nothing else than going to a Yeomanry Ball.  Think
+again.  You are sure there is nothing else?'
+
+'Quite sure, sir,' she decisively answered.  At first nobody would
+have noticed in that pretty young face any sign of decision; yet it
+was discoverable.  The mouth, though soft, was firm in line; the
+eyebrows were distinct, and extended near to each other.  'I have
+thought of it all day,' she continued, sadly.  'Still, sir, if you
+are sorry you offered me anything, I can let you off.'
+
+'Sorry?--Certainly not, Margery,' be said, rather nettled.  'I'll
+show you that whatever hopes I have raised in your breast I am
+honourable enough to gratify.  If it lies in my power,' he added with
+sudden firmness, 'you SHALL go to the Yeomanry Ball.  In what
+building is it to be held?'
+
+'In the Assembly Rooms.'
+
+'And would you be likely to be recognized there?  Do you know many
+people?'
+
+'Not many, sir.  None, I may say.  I know nobody who goes to balls.'
+
+'Ah, well; you must go, since you wish it; and if there is no other
+way of getting over the difficulty of having nobody to take you, I'll
+take you myself.  Would you like me to do so?  I can dance.'
+
+'O, yes, sir; I know that, and I thought you might offer to do it.
+But would you bring me back again?'
+
+'Of course I'll bring you back.  But, by-the-bye, can YOU dance?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'What?'
+
+'Reels, and jigs, and country-dances like the New-Rigged-Ship, and
+Follow-my-Lover, and Haste-to-the-Wedding, and the College Hornpipe,
+and the Favourite Quickstep, and Captain White's dance.'
+
+'A very good list--a very good! but unluckily I fear they don't dance
+any of those now.  But if you have the instinct we may soon cure your
+ignorance.  Let me see you dance a moment.'
+
+She stood out into the garden-path, the stile being still between
+them, and seizing a side of her skirt with each hand, performed the
+movements which are even yet far from uncommon in the dances of the
+villagers of merry England.  But her motions, though graceful, were
+not precisely those which appear in the figures of a modern ball-
+room.
+
+'Well, my good friend, it is a very pretty sight,' he said, warming
+up to the proceedings.  'But you dance too well--you dance all over
+your person--and that's too thorough a way for the present day.  I
+should say it was exactly how they danced in the time of your poet
+Chaucer; but as people don't dance like it now, we must consider.
+First I must inquire more about this ball, and then I must see you
+again.'
+
+'If it is a great trouble to you, sir, I--'
+
+'O no, no.  I will think it over.  So far so good.'
+
+The Baron mentioned an evening and an hour when he would be passing
+that way again; then mounted his horse and rode away.
+
+On the next occasion, which was just when the sun was changing places
+with the moon as an illuminator of Silverthorn Dairy, she found him
+at the spot before her, and unencumbered by a horse.  The melancholy
+that had so weighed him down at their first interview, and had been
+perceptible at their second, had quite disappeared.  He pressed her
+right hand between both his own across the stile.
+
+'My good maiden, Gott bless you!' said he warmly.  'I cannot help
+thinking of that morning!  I was too much over-shadowed at first to
+take in the whole force of it.  You do not know all; but your
+presence was a miraculous intervention.  Now to more cheerful
+matters.   I have a great deal to tell--that is, if your wish about
+the ball be still the same?'
+
+'O yes, sir--if you don't object.'
+
+'Never think of my objecting.  What I have found out is something
+which simplifies matters amazingly.  In addition to your Yeomanry
+Ball at Exonbury, there is also to be one in the next county about
+the same time.  This ball is not to be held at the Town Hall of the
+county-town as usual, but at Lord Toneborough's, who is colonel of
+the regiment, and who, I suppose, wishes to please the yeomen because
+his brother is going to stand for the county.  Now I find I could
+take you there very well, and the great advantage of that ball over
+the Yeomanry Ball in this county is, that there you would be
+absolutely unknown, and I also.  But do you prefer your own
+neighbourhood?'
+
+'O no, sir.  It is a ball I long to see--I don't know what it is
+like; it does not matter where.'
+
+'Good.  Then I shall be able to make much more of you there, where
+there is no possibility of recognition.  That being settled, the next
+thing is the dancing.  Now reels and such things do not do.  For
+think of this--there is a new dance at Almack's and everywhere else,
+over which the world has gone crazy.'
+
+'How dreadful!'
+
+'Ah--but that is a mere expression--gone mad.  It is really an
+ancient Scythian dance; but, such is the power of fashion, that,
+having once been adopted by Society, this dance has made the tour of
+the Continent in one season.'
+
+'What is its name, sir?'
+
+'The polka.  Young people, who always dance, are ecstatic about it,
+and old people, who have not danced for years, have begun to dance
+again, on its account.  All share the excitement.  It arrived in
+London only some few months ago--it is now all over the country.  Now
+this is your opportunity, my good Margery.  To learn this one dance
+will be enough.  They will dance scarce anything else at that ball.
+While, to crown all, it is the easiest dance in the world, and as I
+know it quite well I can practise you in the step.  Suppose we try?'
+
+Margery showed some hesitation before crossing the stile:  it was a
+Rubicon in more ways than one.  But the curious reverence which was
+stealing over her for all that this stranger said and did was too
+much for prudence.  She crossed the stile.
+
+Withdrawing with her to a nook where two high hedges met, and where
+the grass was elastic and dry, he lightly rested his arm on her
+waist, and practised with her the new step of fascination.  Instead
+of music he whispered numbers, and she, as may be supposed, showed no
+slight aptness in following his instructions.  Thus they moved round
+together, the moon-shadows from the twigs racing over their forms as
+they turned.
+
+The interview lasted about half an hour.  Then he somewhat abruptly
+handed her over the stile and stood looking at her from the other
+side.
+
+'Well,' he murmured, 'what has come to pass is strange!  My whole
+business after this will be to recover my right mind!'
+
+Margery always declared that there seemed to be some power in the
+stranger that was more than human, something magical and compulsory,
+when he seized her and gently trotted her round.  But lingering
+emotions may have led her memory to play pranks with the scene, and
+her vivid imagination at that youthful age must be taken into account
+in believing her.  However, there is no doubt that the stranger,
+whoever he might be, and whatever his powers, taught her the elements
+of modern dancing at a certain interview by moonlight at the top of
+her father's garden, as was proved by her possession of knowledge on
+the subject that could have been acquired in no other way.
+
+His was of the first rank of commanding figures, she was one of the
+most agile of milkmaids, and to casual view it would have seemed all
+of a piece with Nature's doings that things should go on thus.  But
+there was another side to the case; and whether the strange gentleman
+were a wild olive tree, or not, it was questionable if the
+acquaintance would lead to happiness.  'A fleeting romance and a
+possible calamity;' thus it might have been summed up by the
+practical.
+
+Margery was in Paradise; and yet she was not at this date distinctly
+in love with the stranger.  What she felt was something more
+mysterious, more of the nature of veneration.  As he looked at her
+across the stile she spoke timidly, on a subject which had apparently
+occupied her long.
+
+'I ought to have a ball-dress, ought I not, sir?'
+
+'Certainly.  And you shall have a ball-dress.'
+
+'Really?'
+
+'No doubt of it.  I won't do things by halves for my best friend.  I
+have thought of the ball-dress, and of other things also.'
+
+'And is my dancing good enough?'
+
+'Quite--quite.'  He paused, lapsed into thought, and looked at her.
+'Margery,' he said, 'do you trust yourself unreservedly to me?'
+
+'O yes, sir,' she replied brightly; 'if I am not too much trouble:
+if I am good enough to be seen in your society.'
+
+The Baron laughed in a peculiar way.  'Really, I think you may assume
+as much as that.--However, to business.  The ball is on the twenty-
+fifth, that is next Thursday week; and the only difficulty about the
+dress is the size.  Suppose you lend me this?'  And he touched her on
+the shoulder to signify a tight little jacket she wore.
+
+Margery was all obedience.  She took it off and handed it to him.
+The Baron rolled and compressed it with all his force till it was
+about as large as an apple-dumpling, and put it into his pocket.
+
+'The next thing,' he said, 'is about getting the consent of your
+friends to your going.  Have you thought of this?'
+
+'There is only my father.  I can tell him I am invited to a party,
+and I don't think he'll mind.  Though I would rather not tell him.'
+
+'But it strikes me that you must inform him something of what you
+intend.  I would strongly advise you to do so.'  He spoke as if
+rather perplexed as to the probable custom of the English peasantry
+in such matters, and added, 'However, it is for you to decide.  I
+know nothing of the circumstances.  As to getting to the ball, the
+plan I have arranged is this.  The direction to Lord Toneborough's
+being the other way from my house, you must meet me at Three-Walks-
+End--in Chillington Wood, two miles or more from here.  You know the
+place?  Good.  By meeting there we shall save five or six miles of
+journey--a consideration, as it is a long way.  Now, for the last
+time:  are you still firm in your wish for this particular treat and
+no other?  It is not too late to give it up.  Cannot you think of
+something else--something better--some useful household articles you
+require?'
+
+Margery's countenance, which before had been beaming with
+expectation, lost its brightness:  her lips became close, and her
+voice broken.  'You have offered to take me, and now--'
+
+'No, no, no,' he said, patting her cheek.  'We will not think of
+anything else.  You shall go.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+
+But whether the Baron, in naming such a distant spot for the
+rendezvous, was in hope she might fail him, and so relieve him after
+all of his undertaking, cannot be said; though it might have been
+strongly suspected from his manner that he had no great zest for the
+responsibility of escorting her.
+
+But he little knew the firmness of the young woman he had to deal
+with.  She was one of those soft natures whose power of adhesiveness
+to an acquired idea seems to be one of the special attributes of that
+softness.  To go to a ball with this mysterious personage of romance
+was her ardent desire and aim; and none the less in that she trembled
+with fear and excitement at her position in so aiming.  She felt the
+deepest awe, tenderness, and humility towards the Baron of the
+strange name; and yet she was prepared to stick to her point.
+
+Thus it was that the afternoon of the eventful day found Margery
+trudging her way up the slopes from the vale to the place of
+appointment.  She walked to the music of innumerable birds, which
+increased as she drew away from the open meads towards the groves.
+
+She had overcome all difficulties.  After thinking out the question
+of telling or not telling her father, she had decided that to tell
+him was to be forbidden to go.  Her contrivance therefore was this:
+to leave home this evening on a visit to her invalid grandmother, who
+lived not far from the Baron's house; but not to arrive at her
+grandmother's till breakfast-time next morning.  Who would suspect an
+intercalated experience of twelve hours with the Baron at a ball?
+That this piece of deception was indefensible she afterwards owned
+readily enough; but she did not stop to think of it then.
+
+It was sunset within Chillington Wood by the time she reached Three-
+Walks-End--the converging point of radiating trackways, now floored
+with a carpet of matted grass, which had never known other scythes
+than the teeth of rabbits and hares.  The twitter overhead had
+ceased, except from a few braver and larger birds, including the
+cuckoo, who did not fear night at this pleasant time of year.  Nobody
+seemed to be on the spot when she first drew near, but no sooner did
+Margery stand at the intersection of the roads than a slight crashing
+became audible, and her patron appeared.  He was so transfigured in
+dress that she scarcely knew him.  Under a light great-coat, which
+was flung open, instead of his ordinary clothes he wore a suit of
+thin black cloth, an open waistcoat with a frill all down his shirt-
+front, a white tie, shining boots, no thicker than a glove, a coat
+that made him look like a bird, and a hat that seemed as if it would
+open and shut like an accordion.
+
+'I am dressed for the ball--nothing worse,' he said, drily smiling.
+'So will you be soon.'
+
+'Why did you choose this place for our meeting, sir?' she asked,
+looking around and acquiring confidence.
+
+'Why did I choose it?  Well, because in riding past one day I
+observed a large hollow tree close by here, and it occurred to me
+when I was last with you that this would be useful for our purpose.
+Have you told your father?'
+
+'I have not yet told him, sir.'
+
+'That's very bad of you, Margery.  How have you arranged it, then?'
+
+She briefly related her plan, on which he made no comment, but,
+taking her by the hand as if she were a little child, he led her
+through the undergrowth to a spot where the trees were older, and
+standing at wider distances.  Among them was the tree he had spoken
+of--an elm; huge, hollow, distorted, and headless, with a rift in its
+side.
+
+'Now go inside,' he said, 'before it gets any darker.  You will find
+there everything you want.  At any rate, if you do not you must do
+without it.  I'll keep watch; and don't be longer than you can help
+to be.'
+
+'What am I to do, sir?' asked the puzzled maiden.
+
+'Go inside, and you will see.  When you are ready wave your
+handkerchief at that hole.'
+
+She stooped into the opening.  The cavity within the tree formed a
+lofty circular apartment, four or five feet in diameter, to which
+daylight entered at the top, and also through a round hole about six
+feet from the ground, marking the spot at which a limb had been
+amputated in the tree's prime.  The decayed wood of cinnamon-brown,
+forming the inner surface of the tree, and the warm evening glow,
+reflected in at the top, suffused the cavity with a faint mellow
+radiance.
+
+But Margery had hardly given herself time to heed these things.  Her
+eye had been caught by objects of quite another quality.  A large
+white oblong paper box lay against the inside of the tree; over it,
+on a splinter, hung a small oval looking-glass.
+
+Margery seized the idea in a moment.  She pressed through the rift
+into the tree, lifted the cover of the box, and, behold, there was
+disclosed within a lovely white apparition in a somewhat flattened
+state.  It was the ball-dress.
+
+This marvel of art was, briefly, a sort of heavenly cobweb.  It was a
+gossamer texture of precious manufacture, artistically festooned in a
+dozen flounces or more.
+
+Margery lifted it, and could hardly refrain from kissing it.  Had any
+one told her before this moment that such a dress could exist, she
+would have said, 'No; it's impossible!'  She drew back, went forward,
+flushed, laughed, raised her hands.  To say that the maker of that
+dress had been an individual of talent was simply understatement:  he
+was a genius, and she sunned herself in the rays of his creation.
+
+She then remembered that her friend without had told her to make
+haste, and she spasmodically proceeded to array herself.  In removing
+the dress she found satin slippers, gloves, a handkerchief nearly all
+lace, a fan, and even flowers for the hair.  'O, how could he think
+of it!' she said, clasping her hands and almost crying with
+agitation.  'And the glass--how good of him!'
+
+Everything was so well prepared, that to clothe herself in these
+garments was a matter of ease.  In a quarter of an hour she was
+ready, even to shoes and gloves.  But what led her more than anything
+else into admiration of the Baron's foresight was the discovery that
+there were half-a-dozen pairs each of shoes and gloves, of varying
+sizes, out of which she selected a fit.
+
+Margery glanced at herself in the mirror, or at as much as she could
+see of herself:  the image presented was superb.  Then she hastily
+rolled up her old dress, put it in the box, and thrust the latter on
+a ledge as high as she could reach.  Standing on tiptoe, she waved
+the handkerchief through the upper aperture, and bent to the rift to
+go out.
+
+But what a trouble stared her in the face.  The dress was so airy, so
+fantastical, and so extensive, that to get out in her new clothes by
+the rift which had admitted her in her old ones was an impossibility.
+She heard the Baron's steps crackling over the dead sticks and
+leaves.
+
+'O, sir!' she began in despair.
+
+'What--can't you dress yourself?' he inquired from the back of the
+trunk.
+
+'Yes; but I can't get out of this dreadful tree!'
+
+He came round to the opening, stooped, and looked in.  'It is obvious
+that you cannot,' he said, taking in her compass at a glance; and
+adding to himself; 'Charming! who would have thought that clothes
+could do so much!--Wait a minute, my little maid:  I have it!' he
+said more loudly.
+
+With all his might he kicked at the sides of the rift, and by that
+means broke away several pieces of the rotten touchwood.  But, being
+thinly armed about the feet, he abandoned that process, and went for
+a fallen branch which lay near.  By using the large end as a lever,
+he tore away pieces of the wooden shell which enshrouded Margery and
+all her loveliness, till the aperture was large enough for her to
+pass without tearing her dress.  She breathed her relief:  the silly
+girl had begun to fear that she would not get to the ball after all.
+
+He carefully wrapped round her a cloak he had brought with him:  it
+was hooded, and of a length which covered her to the heels.
+
+'The carriage is waiting down the other path,' he said, and gave her
+his arm.  A short trudge over the soft dry leaves brought them to the
+place indicated.
+
+There stood the brougham, the horses, the coachman, all as still as
+if they were growing on the spot, like the trees.  Margery's eyes
+rose with some timidity to the coachman's figure.
+
+'You need not mind him,' said the Baron.  'He is a foreigner, and
+heeds nothing.'
+
+In the space of a short minute she was handed inside; the Baron
+buttoned up his overcoat, and surprised her by mounting with the
+coachman.  The carriage moved off silently over the long grass of the
+vista, the shadows deepening to black as they proceeded.  Darker and
+darker grew the night as they rolled on; the neighbourhood familiar
+to Margery was soon left behind, and she had not the remotest idea of
+the direction they were taking.  The stars blinked out, the coachman
+lit his lamps, and they bowled on again.
+
+In the course of an hour and a half they arrived at a small town,
+where they pulled up at the chief inn, and changed horses; all being
+done so readily that their advent had plainly been expected.  The
+journey was resumed immediately.  Her companion never descended to
+speak to her; whenever she looked out there he sat upright on his
+perch, with the mien of a person who had a difficult duty to perform,
+and who meant to perform it properly at all costs.  But Margery could
+not help feeling a certain dread at her situation--almost, indeed, a
+wish that she had not come.  Once or twice she thought, 'Suppose he
+is a wicked man, who is taking me off to a foreign country, and will
+never bring me home again.'
+
+But her characteristic persistence in an original idea sustained her
+against these misgivings except at odd moments.  One incident in
+particular had given her confidence in her escort:  she had seen a
+tear in his eye when she expressed her sorrow for his troubles.  He
+may have divined that her thoughts would take an uneasy turn, for
+when they stopped for a moment in ascending a hill he came to the
+window.  'Are you tired, Margery?' he asked kindly.
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+'Are you afraid?'
+
+'N--no, sir.  But it is a long way.'
+
+'We are almost there,' he answered.  'And now, Margery,' he said in a
+lower tone, 'I must tell you a secret.  I have obtained this
+invitation in a peculiar way.  I thought it best for your sake not to
+come in my own name, and this is how I have managed.  A man in this
+county, for whom I have lately done a service, one whom I can trust,
+and who is personally as unknown here as you and I, has (privately)
+transferred his card of invitation to me.  So that we go under his
+name.  I explain this that you may not say anything imprudent by
+accident.  Keep your ears open and be cautious.'  Having said this
+the Baron retreated again to his place.
+
+'Then he is a wicked man after all!' she said to herself; 'for he is
+going under a false name.'  But she soon had the temerity not to mind
+it:  wickedness of that sort was the one ingredient required just now
+to finish him off as a hero in her eyes.
+
+They descended a hill, passed a lodge, then up an avenue; and
+presently there beamed upon them the light from other carriages,
+drawn up in a file, which moved on by degrees; and at last they
+halted before a large arched doorway, round which a group of people
+stood.
+
+'We are among the latest arrivals, on account of the distance,' said
+the Baron, reappearing.  'But never mind; there are three hours at
+least for your enjoyment.'
+
+The steps were promptly flung down, and they alighted.  The steam
+from the flanks of their swarthy steeds, as they seemed to her,
+ascended to the parapet of the porch, and from their nostrils the hot
+breath jetted forth like smoke out of volcanoes, attracting the
+attention of all.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+
+The bewildered Margery was led by the Baron up the steps to the
+interior of the house, whence the sounds of music and dancing were
+already proceeding.  The tones were strange.  At every fourth beat a
+deep and mighty note throbbed through the air, reaching Margery's
+soul with all the force of a blow.
+
+'What is that powerful tune, sir--I have never heard anything like
+it?' she said.
+
+'The Drum Polka,' answered the Baron.  'The strange dance I spoke of
+and that we practised--introduced from my country and other parts of
+the continent.'
+
+Her surprise was not lessened when, at the entrance to the ballroom,
+she heard the names of her conductor and herself announced as 'Mr.
+and Miss Brown.'
+
+However, nobody seemed to take any notice of the announcement, the
+room beyond being in a perfect turmoil of gaiety, and Margery's
+consternation at sailing under false colours subsided.  At the same
+moment she observed awaiting them a handsome, dark-haired, rather
+petite lady in cream-coloured satin.  'Who is she?' asked Margery of
+the Baron.
+
+'She is the lady of the mansion,' he whispered.  'She is the wife of
+a peer of the realm, the daughter of a marquis, has five Christian
+names; and hardly ever speaks to commoners, except for political
+purposes.'
+
+'How divine--what joy to be here!' murmured Margery, as she
+contemplated the diamonds that flashed from the head of her ladyship,
+who was just inside the ball-room door, in front of a little gilded
+chair, upon which she sat in the intervals between one arrival and
+another.  She had come down from London at great inconvenience to
+herself; openly to promote this entertainment.
+
+As Mr. and Miss Brown expressed absolutely no meaning to Lady
+Toneborough (for there were three Browns already present in this
+rather mixed assembly), and as there was possibly a slight
+awkwardness in poor Margery's manner, Lady Toneborough touched their
+hands lightly with the tips of her long gloves, said, 'How d'ye do,'
+and turned round for more comers.
+
+'Ah, if she only knew we were a rich Baron and his friend, and not
+Mr. and Miss Brown at all, she wouldn't receive us like that, would
+she?' whispered Margery confidentially.
+
+'Indeed, she wouldn't!' drily said the Baron.  'Now let us drop into
+the dance at once; some of the people here, you see, dance much worse
+than you.'
+
+Almost before she was aware she had obeyed his mysterious influence,
+by giving him one hand, placing the other upon his shoulder, and
+swinging with him round the room to the steps she had learnt on the
+sward.
+
+At the first gaze the apartment had seemed to her to be floored with
+black ice; the figures of the dancers appearing upon it upside down.
+At last she realized that it was highly-polished oak, but she was
+none the less afraid to move.
+
+'I am afraid of falling down,' she said.
+
+'Lean on me; you will soon get used to it,' he replied.  'You have no
+nails in your shoes now, dear.'
+
+His words, like all his words to her, were quite true.  She found it
+amazingly easy in a brief space of time.  The floor, far from
+hindering her, was a positive assistance to one of her natural
+agility and litheness.  Moreover, her marvellous dress of twelve
+flounces inspired her as nothing else could have done.  Externally a
+new creature, she was prompted to new deeds.  To feel as well-dressed
+as the other women around her is to set any woman at her ease,
+whencesoever she may have come:  to feel much better dressed is to
+add radiance to that ease.
+
+Her prophet's statement on the popularity of the polka at this
+juncture was amply borne out.  It was among the first seasons of its
+general adoption in country houses; the enthusiasm it excited to-
+night was beyond description, and scarcely credible to the youth of
+the present day.  A new motive power had been introduced into the
+world of poesy--the polka, as a counterpoise to the new motive power
+that had been introduced into the world of prose--steam.
+
+Twenty finished musicians sat in the music gallery at the end, with
+romantic mop-heads of raven hair, under which their faces and eyes
+shone like fire under coals.
+
+The nature and object of the ball had led to its being very
+inclusive.  Every rank was there, from the peer to the smallest
+yeoman, and Margery got on exceedingly well, particularly when the
+recuperative powers of supper had banished the fatigue of her long
+drive.
+
+Sometimes she heard people saying, 'Who are they?--brother and
+sister--father and daughter?  And never dancing except with each
+other--how odd?'  But of this she took no notice.
+
+When not dancing the watchful Baron took her through the drawing-
+rooms and picture-galleries adjoining, which to-night were thrown
+open like the rest of the house; and there, ensconcing her in some
+curtained nook, he drew her attention to scrap-books, prints, and
+albums, and left her to amuse herself with turning them over till the
+dance in which she was practised should again be called.  Margery
+would much have preferred to roam about during these intervals; but
+the words of the Baron were law, and as he commanded so she acted.
+In such alternations the evening winged away; till at last came the
+gloomy words, 'Margery, our time is up.'
+
+'One more--only one!' she coaxed, for the longer they stayed the more
+freely and gaily moved the dance.  This entreaty he granted; but on
+her asking for yet another, he was inexorable.  'No,' he said.  'We
+have a long way to go.'
+
+Then she bade adieu to the wondrous scene, looking over her shoulder
+as they withdrew from the hall; and in a few minutes she was cloaked
+and in the carriage.  The Baron mounted to his seat on the box, where
+she saw him light a cigar; they plunged under the trees, and she
+leant back, and gave herself up to contemplate the images that filled
+her brain.  The natural result followed:  she fell asleep.
+
+She did not awake till they stopped to change horses; when she saw
+against the stars the Baron sitting as erect as ever.  'He watches
+like the Angel Gabriel, when all the world is asleep!' she thought.
+
+With the resumption of motion she slept again, and knew no more till
+he touched her hand and said, 'Our journey is done--we are in
+Chillington Wood.'
+
+It was almost daylight.  Margery scarcely knew herself to be awake
+till she was out of the carriage and standing beside the Baron, who,
+having told the coachman to drive on to a certain point indicated,
+turned to her.
+
+'Now,' he said, smiling, 'run across to the hollow tree; you know
+where it is.  I'll wait as before, while you perform the reverse
+operation to that you did last night.'  She took no heed of the path
+now, nor regarded whether her pretty slippers became scratched by the
+brambles or no.  A walk of a few steps brought her to the particular
+tree which she had left about nine hours earlier.  It was still
+gloomy at this spot, the morning not being clear.
+
+She entered the trunk, dislodged the box containing her old clothing,
+pulled off the satin shoes, and gloves, dress, and in ten minutes
+emerged in the cotton and shawl of shepherd's plaid.
+
+Baron was not far off.  'Now you look the milkmaid again,' he said,
+coming towards her.  'Where is the finery?'
+
+'Packed in the box, sir, as I found it.'  She spoke with more
+humility now.  The difference between them was greater than it had
+been at the ball.
+
+'Good,' he said.  'I must just dispose of it; and then away we go.'
+
+He went back to the tree, Margery following at a little distance.
+Bringing forth the box, he pulled out the dress as carelessly as if
+it had been rags.  But this was not all.  He gathered a few dry
+sticks, crushed the lovely garment into a loose billowy heap, threw
+the gloves, fan, and shoes on the top, then struck a light and
+ruthlessly set fire to the whole.
+
+Margery was agonized.  She ran forward; she implored and entreated.
+'Please, sir--do spare it--do!  My lovely dress--my-dear, dear
+slippers--my fan--it is cruel!  Don't burn them, please!'
+
+'Nonsense.  We shall have no further use for them if we live a
+hundred years.'
+
+'But spare a bit of it--one little piece, sir--a scrap of the lace--
+one bow of the ribbon--the lovely fan--just something!'
+
+But he was as immoveable as Rhadamanthus.  'No,' he said, with a
+stern gaze of his aristocratic eye.  'It is of no use for you to
+speak like that.  The things are my property.  I undertook to gratify
+you in what you might desire because you had saved my life.  To go to
+a ball, you said.  You might much more wisely have said anything
+else, but no; you said, to go to a ball.  Very well--I have taken you
+to a ball.  I have brought you back.  The clothes were only the
+means, and I dispose of them my own way.  Have I not a right to?'
+
+'Yes, sir,' she said meekly.
+
+He gave the fire a stir, and lace and ribbons, and the twelve
+flounces, and the embroidery, and all the rest crackled and
+disappeared.  He then put in her hands the butter basket she had
+brought to take on to her grandmother's, and accompanied her to the
+edge of the wood, where it merged in the undulating open country in
+which her granddame dwelt.
+
+'Now, Margery,' he said, 'here we part.  I have performed my
+contract--at some awkwardness, if I was recognized.  But never mind
+that.  How do you feel--sleepy?'
+
+'Not at all, sir,' she said.
+
+'That long nap refreshed you, eh?  Now you must make me a promise.
+That if I require your presence at any time, you will come to me . .
+. I am a man of more than one mood,' he went on with sudden
+solemnity; 'and I may have desperate need of you again, to deliver me
+from that darkness as of Death which sometimes encompasses me.
+Promise it, Margery--promise it; that, no matter what stands in the
+way, you will come to me if I require you.'
+
+'I would have if you had not burnt my pretty clothes!' she pouted.
+
+'Ah--ungrateful!'
+
+'Indeed, then, I will promise, sir,' she said from her heart.
+'Wherever I am, if I have bodily strength I will come to you.'
+
+He pressed her hand.  'It is a solemn promise,' he replied.  'Now I
+must go, for you know your way.'
+
+'I shall hardly believe that it has not been all a dream!' she said,
+with a childish instinct to cry at his withdrawal.  'There will be
+nothing left of last night--nothing of my dress, nothing of my
+pleasure, nothing of the place!'
+
+'You shall remember it in this way,' said he.  'We'll cut our
+initials on this tree as a memorial, so that whenever you walk this
+path you will see them.'
+
+Then with a knife he inscribed on the smooth bark of a beech tree the
+letters M.T., and underneath a large X.
+
+'What, have you no Christian name, sir?' she said.
+
+'Yes, but I don't use it.  Now, good-bye, my little friend.--What
+will you do with yourself to-day, when you are gone from me?' he
+lingered to ask.
+
+'Oh--I shall go to my granny's,' she replied with some gloom; 'and
+have breakfast, and dinner, and tea with her, I suppose; and in the
+evening I shall go home to Silverthorn Dairy, and perhaps Jim will
+come to meet me, and all will be the same as usual.'
+
+'Who is Jim?'
+
+'O, he's nobody--only the young man I've got to marry some day.'
+
+'What!--you engaged to be married?--Why didn't you tell me this
+before?'
+
+'I--I don't know, sir.'
+
+'What is the young man's name?'
+
+'James Hayward.'
+
+'What is he?'
+
+'A master lime-burner.'
+
+'Engaged to a master lime-burner, and not a word of this to me!
+Margery, Margery! when shall a straightforward one of your sex be
+found!  Subtle even in your simplicity!  What mischief have you
+caused me to do, through not telling me this?  I wouldn't have so
+endangered anybody's happiness for a thousand pounds.  Wicked girl
+that you were; why didn't you tell me?'
+
+'I thought I'd better not!' said Margery, beginning to be frightened.
+
+'But don't you see and understand that if you are already the
+property of a young man, and he were to find out this night's
+excursion, he may be angry with you and part from you for ever?  With
+him already in the field I had no right to take you at all; he
+undoubtedly ought to have taken you; which really might have been
+arranged, if you had not deceived me by saying you had nobody.'
+
+Margery's face wore that aspect of woe which comes from the repentant
+consciousness of having been guilty of an enormity.  'But he wasn't
+good enough to take me, sir!' she said, almost crying; 'and he isn't
+absolutely my master until I have married him, is he?'
+
+'That's a subject I cannot go into.  However, we must alter our
+tactics.  Instead of advising you, as I did at first, to tell of this
+experience to your friends, I must now impress on you that it will be
+best to keep a silent tongue on the matter--perhaps for ever and
+ever.  It may come right some day, and you may be able to say "All's
+well that ends well."  Now, good morning, my friend.  Think of Jim,
+and forget me.'
+
+'Ah, perhaps I can't do that,' she said, with a tear in her eye, and
+a full throat.
+
+'Well--do your best.  I can say no more.'
+
+He turned and retreated into the wood, and Margery, sighing, went on
+her way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+
+Between six and seven o'clock in the evening of the same day a young
+man descended the hills into the valley of the Exe, at a point about
+midway between Silverthorn and the residence of Margery's
+grandmother, four miles to the east.
+
+He was a thoroughbred son of the country, as far removed from what is
+known as the provincial, as the latter is from the out-and-out
+gentleman of culture.  His trousers and waistcoat were of fustian,
+almost white, but he wore a jacket of old-fashioned blue West-of-
+England cloth, so well preserved that evidently the article was
+relegated to a box whenever its owner engaged in such active
+occupations as he usually pursued.  His complexion was fair, almost
+florid, and he had scarcely any beard.
+
+A novel attraction about this young man, which a glancing stranger
+would know nothing of, was a rare and curious freshness of atmosphere
+that appertained to him, to his clothes, to all his belongings, even
+to the room in which he had been sitting.  It might almost have been
+said that by adding him and his implements to an over-crowded
+apartment you made it healthful.  This resulted from his trade.  He
+was a lime-burner; he handled lime daily; and in return the lime
+rendered him an incarnation of salubrity.  His hair was dry, fair,
+and frizzled, the latter possibly by the operation of the same
+caustic agent.  He carried as a walking-stick a green sapling, whose
+growth had been contorted to a corkscrew pattern by a twining
+honeysuckle.
+
+As he descended to the level ground of the water-meadows he cast his
+glance westward, with a frequency that revealed him to be in search
+of some object in the distance.  It was rather difficult to do this,
+the low sunlight dazzling his eyes by glancing from the river away
+there, and from the 'carriers' (as they were called) in his path--
+narrow artificial brooks for conducting the water over the grass.
+His course was something of a zigzag from the necessity of finding
+points in these carriers convenient for jumping.  Thus peering and
+leaping and winding, he drew near the Exe, the central river of the
+miles-long mead.
+
+A moving spot became visible to him in the direction of his scrutiny,
+mixed up with the rays of the same river.  The spot got nearer, and
+revealed itself to be a slight thing of pink cotton and shepherd's
+plaid, which pursued a path on the brink of the stream.  The young
+man so shaped his trackless course as to impinge on the path a little
+ahead of this coloured form, and when he drew near her he smiled and
+reddened.  The girl smiled back to him; but her smile had not the
+life in it that the young man's had shown.
+
+'My dear Margery--here I am!' he said gladly in an undertone, as with
+a last leap he crossed the last intervening carrier, and stood at her
+side.
+
+'You've come all the way from the kiln, on purpose to meet me, and
+you shouldn't have done it,' she reproachfully returned.
+
+'We finished there at four, so it was no trouble; and if it had been-
+-why, I should ha' come.'
+
+A small sigh was the response.
+
+'What, you are not even so glad to see me as you would be to see your
+dog or cat?' he continued.  'Come, Mis'ess Margery, this is rather
+hard.  But, by George, how tired you dew look!  Why, if you'd been up
+all night your eyes couldn't be more like tea-saucers.  You've walked
+tew far, that's what it is.  The weather is getting warm now, and the
+air of these low-lying meads is not strengthening in summer.  I wish
+you lived up on higher ground with me, beside the kiln.  You'd get as
+strong as a hoss!  Well, there; all that will come in time.'
+
+Instead of saying yes, the fair maid repressed another sigh.
+
+'What, won't it, then?' he said.
+
+'I suppose so,' she answered.  'If it is to be, it is.'
+
+'Well said--very well said, my dear.'
+
+'And if it isn't to be it isn't.'
+
+'What?  Who's been putting that into your head?  Your grumpy granny,
+I suppose.  However, how is she?  Margery, I have been thinking to-
+day--in fact, I was thinking it yesterday and all the week--that
+really we might settle our little business this summer.'
+
+'This summer?' she repeated, with some dismay.  'But the partnership?
+Remember it was not to be till after that was completed.'
+
+'There I have you!' said he, taking the liberty to pat her shoulder,
+and the further liberty of advancing his hand behind it to the other.
+'The partnership is settled.  'Tis "Vine and Hayward, lime-burners,"
+now, and "Richard Vine" no longer.  Yes, Cousin Richard has settled
+it so, for a time at least, and 'tis to be painted on the carts this
+week--blue letters--yaller ground.  I'll boss one of 'em, and drive
+en round to your door as soon as the paint is dry, to show 'ee how it
+looks?'
+
+'Oh, I am sure you needn't take that trouble, Jim; I can see it quite
+well enough in my mind,' replied the young girl--not without a
+flitting accent of superiority.
+
+'Hullo,' said Jim, taking her by the shoulders, and looking at her
+hard.  'What dew that bit of incivility mean?  Now, Margery, let's
+sit down here, and have this cleared.'  He rapped with his stick upon
+the rail of a little bridge they were crossing, and seated himself
+firmly, leaving a place for her.
+
+'But I want to get home-along,' dear Jim, she coaxed.
+
+'Fidgets.  Sit down, there's a dear.  I want a straightforward
+answer, if you please.  In what month, and on what day of the month,
+will you marry me?'
+
+'O, Jim,' she said, sitting gingerly on the edge, 'that's too plain-
+spoken for you yet.  Before I look at it in that business light I
+should have to--to--'
+
+'But your father has settled it long ago, and you said it should be
+as soon as I became a partner.  So, dear, you must not mind a plain
+man wanting a plain answer.  Come, name your time.'
+
+She did not reply at once.  What thoughts were passing through her
+brain during the interval?  Not images raised by his words, but
+whirling figures of men and women in red and white and blue,
+reflected from a glassy floor, in movements timed by the thrilling
+beats of the Drum Polka.  At last she said slowly, 'Jim, you don't
+know the world, and what a woman's wants can be.'
+
+'But I can make you comfortable.  I am in lodgings as yet, but I can
+have a house for the asking; and as to furniture, you shall choose of
+the best for yourself--the very best.'
+
+'The best!  Far are you from knowing what that is!' said the little
+woman.  'There be ornaments such as you never dream of; work-tables
+that would set you in amaze; silver candlesticks, tea and coffee pots
+that would dazzle your eyes; tea-cups, and saucers, gilded all over
+with guinea-gold; heavy velvet curtains, gold clocks, pictures, and
+looking-glasses beyond your very dreams.  So don't say I shall have
+the best.'
+
+'H'm!' said Jim gloomily; and fell into reflection.  'Where did you
+get those high notions from, Margery?' he presently inquired.  'I'll
+swear you hadn't got 'em a week ago.'  She did not answer, and he
+added, 'YEW don't expect to have such things, I hope; deserve them as
+you may?'
+
+'I was not exactly speaking of what I wanted,' she said severely.  'I
+said, things a woman COULD want.  And since you wish to know what I
+CAN want to quite satisfy me, I assure you I can want those!'
+
+'You are a pink-and-white conundrum, Margery,' he said; 'and I give
+you up for to-night.  Anybody would think the devil had showed you
+all the kingdoms of the world since I saw you last!'
+
+She reddened.  'Perhaps he has!' she murmured; then arose, he
+following her; and they soon reached Margery's home, approaching it
+from the lower or meadow side--the opposite to that of the garden
+top, where she had met the Baron.
+
+'You'll come in, won't you, Jim?' she said, with more ceremony than
+heartiness.
+
+'No--I think not to-night,' he answered.  'I'll consider what you've
+said.'
+
+'You are very good, Jim,' she returned lightly.  'Good-bye.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+
+Jim thoughtfully retraced his steps.  He was a village character, and
+he had a villager's simplicity:  that is, the simplicity which comes
+from the lack of a complicated experience.  But simple by nature he
+certainly was not.  Among the rank and file of rustics he was quite a
+Talleyrand, or rather had been one, till he lost a good deal of his
+self-command by falling in love.
+
+Now, however, that the charming object of his distraction was out of
+sight he could deliberate, and measure, and weigh things with some
+approach to keenness.  The substance of his queries was, What change
+had come over Margery--whence these new notions?
+
+Ponder as he would he could evolve no answer save one, which,
+eminently unsatisfactory as it was, he felt it would be unreasonable
+not to accept:  that she was simply skittish and ambitious by nature,
+and would not be hunted into matrimony till he had provided a well-
+adorned home.
+
+Jim retrod the miles to the kiln, and looked to the fires.  The kiln
+stood in a peculiar, interesting, even impressive spot.  It was at
+the end of a short ravine in a limestone formation, and all around
+was an open hilly down.  The nearest house was that of Jim's cousin
+and partner, which stood on the outskirts of the down beside the
+turnpike-road.  From this house a little lane wound between the steep
+escarpments of the ravine till it reached the kiln, which faced down
+the miniature valley, commanding it as a fort might command a defile.
+
+The idea of a fort in this association owed little to imagination.
+For on the nibbled green steep above the kiln stood a bye-gone, worn-
+out specimen of such an erection, huge, impressive, and difficult to
+scale even now in its decay.  It was a British castle or
+entrenchment, with triple rings of defence, rising roll behind roll,
+their outlines cutting sharply against the sky, and Jim's kiln nearly
+undermining their base.  When the lime-kiln flared up in the night,
+which it often did, its fires lit up the front of these ramparts to a
+great majesty.  They were old friends of his, and while keeping up
+the heat through the long darkness, as it was sometimes his duty to
+do, he would imagine the dancing lights and shades about the
+stupendous earthwork to be the forms of those giants who (he
+supposed) had heaped it up.  Often he clambered upon it, and walked
+about the summit, thinking out the problems connected with his
+business, his partner, his future, his Margery.
+
+It was what he did this evening, continuing the meditation on the
+young girl's manner that he had begun upon the road, and still, as
+then, finding no clue to the change.
+
+While thus engaged he observed a man coming up the ravine to the
+kiln.  Business messages were almost invariably left at the house
+below, and Jim watched the man with the interest excited by a belief
+that he had come on a personal matter.  On nearer approach Jim
+recognized him as the gardener at Mount Lodge some miles away.  If
+this meant business, the Baron (of whose arrival Jim had vaguely
+heard) was a new and unexpected customer.
+
+It meant nothing else, apparently.  The man's errand was simply to
+inform Jim that the Baron required a load of lime for the garden.
+
+'You might have saved yourself trouble by leaving word at Mr.
+Vine's,' said Jim.
+
+'I was to see you personally,' said the gardener, 'and to say that
+the Baron would like to inquire of you about the different qualities
+of lime proper for such purposes.'
+
+'Couldn't you tell him yourself?' said Jim.
+
+'He said I was to tell you that,' replied the gardener; 'and it
+wasn't for me to interfere.'
+
+No motive other than the ostensible one could possibly be conjectured
+by Jim Hayward at this time; and the next morning he started with
+great pleasure, in his best business suit of clothes.  By eleven
+o'clock he and his horse and cart had arrived on the Baron's
+premises, and the lime was deposited where directed; an exceptional
+spot, just within view of the windows of the south front.
+
+Baron von Xanten, pale and melancholy, was sauntering in the sun on
+the slope between the house and the all-the-year-round.  He looked
+across to where Jim and the gardener were standing, and the identity
+of Hayward being established by what he brought, the Baron came down,
+and the gardener withdrew.
+
+The Baron's first inquiries were, as Jim had been led to suppose they
+would be, on the exterminating effects of lime upon slugs and snails
+in its different conditions of slaked and unslaked, ground and in the
+lump.  He appeared to be much interested by Jim's explanations, and
+eyed the young man closely whenever he had an opportunity.
+
+'And I hope trade is prosperous with you this year,' said the Baron.
+
+'Very, my noble lord,' replied Jim, who, in his uncertainty on the
+proper method of address, wisely concluded that it was better to err
+by giving too much honour than by giving too little.  'In short,
+trade is looking so well that I've become a partner in the firm.'
+
+'Indeed; I am glad to hear it.  So now you are settled in life.'
+
+'Well, my lord; I am hardly settled, even now.  For I've got to
+finish it--I mean, to get married.'
+
+'That's an easy matter, compared with the partnership.'
+
+'Now a man might think so, my baron,' said Jim, getting more
+confidential.  'But the real truth is, 'tis the hardest part of all
+for me.'
+
+'Your suit prospers, I hope?'
+
+'It don't,' said Jim.  'It don't at all just at present.  In short, I
+can't for the life o' me think what's come over the young woman
+lately.'  And he fell into deep reflection.
+
+Though Jim did not observe it, the Baron's brow became shadowed with
+self-reproach as he heard those simple words, and his eyes had a look
+of pity.  'Indeed--since when?' he asked.
+
+'Since yesterday, my noble lord.'  Jim spoke meditatively.  He was
+resolving upon a bold stroke.  Why not make a confidant of this kind
+gentleman, instead of the parson, as he had intended?  The thought
+was no sooner conceived than acted on.  'My lord,' he resumed, 'I
+have heard that you are a nobleman of great scope and talent, who has
+seen more strange countries and characters than I have ever heard of,
+and know the insides of men well.  Therefore I would fain put a
+question to your noble lordship, if I may so trouble you, and having
+nobody else in the world who could inform me so trewly.'
+
+'Any advice I can give is at your service, Hayward.  What do you wish
+to know?'
+
+'It is this, my baron.  What can I do to bring down a young woman's
+ambition that's got to such a towering height there's no reaching it
+or compassing it:  how get her to be pleased with me and my station
+as she used to be when I first knew her?'
+
+'Truly, that's a hard question, my man.  What does she aspire to?'
+
+'She's got a craze for fine furniture.'
+
+'How long has she had it?'
+
+'Only just now.'
+
+The Baron seemed still more to experience regret.
+
+'What furniture does she specially covet?' he asked.
+
+'Silver candlesticks, work-tables, looking-glasses, gold tea-things,
+silver tea-pots, gold clocks, curtains, pictures, and I don't know
+what all--things I shall never get if I live to be a hundred--not so
+much that I couldn't raise the money to buy 'em, as that to put it to
+other uses, or save it for a rainy day.'
+
+'You think the possession of those articles would make her happy?'
+
+'I really think they might, my lord.'
+
+'Good.  Open your pocket-book and write as I tell you.'
+
+Jim in some astonishment did as commanded, and elevating his pocket-
+book against the garden-wall, thoroughly moistened his pencil, and
+wrote at the Baron's dictation:
+
+'Pair of silver candlesticks:  inlaid work-table and work-box:  one
+large mirror:  two small ditto:  one gilt china tea and coffee
+service:  one silver tea-pot, coffee-pot, sugar-basin, jug, and dozen
+spoons:  French clock:  pair of curtains:  six large pictures.'
+
+'Now,' said the Baron, 'tear out that leaf and give it to me.  Keep a
+close tongue about this; go home, and don't be surprised at anything
+that may come to your door.'
+
+'But, my noble lord, you don't mean that your lordship is going to
+give--'
+
+'Never mind what I am going to do.  Only keep your own counsel.  I
+perceive that, though a plain countryman, you are by no means
+deficient in tact and understanding.  If sending these things to you
+gives me pleasure, why should you object?  The fact is, Hayward, I
+occasionally take an interest in people, and like to do a little for
+them.  I take an interest in you.  Now go home, and a week hence
+invite Marg--the young woman and her father, to tea with you.  The
+rest is in your own hands.'
+
+A question often put to Jim in after times was why it had not
+occurred to him at once that the Baron's liberal conduct must have
+been dictated by something more personal than sudden spontaneous
+generosity to him, a stranger.  To which Jim always answered that,
+admitting the existence of such generosity, there had appeared
+nothing remarkable in the Baron selecting himself as its object.  The
+Baron had told him that he took an interest in him; and self-esteem,
+even with the most modest, is usually sufficient to over-ride any
+little difficulty that might occur to an outsider in accounting for a
+preference.  He moreover considered that foreign noblemen, rich and
+eccentric, might have habits of acting which were quite at variance
+with those of their English compeers.
+
+So he drove off homeward with a lighter heart than he had known for
+several days.  To have a foreign gentleman take a fancy to him--what
+a triumph to a plain sort of fellow, who had scarcely expected the
+Baron to look in his face.  It would be a fine story to tell Margery
+when the Baron gave him liberty to speak out.
+
+Jim lodged at the house of his cousin and partner, Richard Vine, a
+widower of fifty odd years.  Having failed in the development of a
+household of direct descendants this tradesman had been glad to let
+his chambers to his much younger relative, when the latter entered on
+the business of lime manufacture; and their intimacy had led to a
+partnership.  Jim lived upstairs; his partner lived down, and the
+furniture of all the rooms was so plain and old fashioned as to
+excite the special dislike of Miss Margery Tucker, and even to
+prejudice her against Jim for tolerating it.  Not only were the
+chairs and tables queer, but, with due regard to the principle that a
+man's surroundings should bear the impress of that man's life and
+occupation, the chief ornaments of the dwelling were a curious
+collection of calcinations, that had been discovered from time to
+time in the lime-kiln--misshapen ingots of strange substance, some of
+them like Pompeian remains.
+
+The head of the firm was a quiet-living, narrow-minded, though
+friendly, man of fifty; and he took a serious interest in Jim's love-
+suit, frequently inquiring how it progressed, and assuring Jim that
+if he chose to marry he might have all the upper floor at a low rent,
+he, Mr. Vine, contenting himself entirely with the ground level.  It
+had been so convenient for discussing business matters to have Jim in
+the same house, that he did not wish any change to be made in
+consequence of a change in Jim's domestic estate.  Margery knew of
+this wish, and of Jim's concurrent feeling; and did not like the idea
+at all.
+
+About four days after the young man's interview with the Baron, there
+drew up in front of Jim's house at noon a waggon laden with cases and
+packages, large and small.  They were all addressed to 'Mr. Hayward,'
+and they had come from the largest furnishing ware-houses in that
+part of England.
+
+Three-quarters of an hour were occupied in getting the cases to Jim's
+rooms.  The wary Jim did not show the amazement he felt at his
+patron's munificence; and presently the senior partner came into the
+passage, and wondered what was lumbering upstairs.
+
+'Oh--it's only some things of mine,' said Jim coolly.
+
+'Bearing upon the coming event--eh?' said his partner.
+
+'Exactly,' replied Jim.
+
+Mr. Vine, with some astonishment at the number of cases, shortly
+after went away to the kiln; whereupon Jim shut himself into his
+rooms, and there he might have been heard ripping up and opening
+boxes with a cautious hand, afterwards appearing outside the door
+with them empty, and carrying them off to the outhouse.
+
+A triumphant look lit up his face when, a little later in the
+afternoon, he sent into the vale to the dairy, and invited Margery
+and her father to his house to supper.
+
+She was not unsociable that day, and, her father expressing a hard
+and fast acceptance of the invitation, she perforce agreed to go with
+him.  Meanwhile at home, Jim made himself as mysteriously busy as
+before in those rooms of his, and when his partner returned he too
+was asked to join in the supper.
+
+At dusk Hayward went to the door, where he stood till he heard the
+voices of his guests from the direction of the low grounds, now
+covered with their frequent fleece of fog.  The voices grew more
+distinct, and then on the white surface of the fog there appeared two
+trunkless heads, from which bodies and a horse and cart gradually
+extended as the approaching pair rose towards the house.
+
+When they had entered Jim pressed Margery's hand and conducted her up
+to his rooms, her father waiting below to say a few words to the
+senior lime-burner.
+
+'Bless me,' said Jim to her, on entering the sitting-room; 'I quite
+forgot to get a light beforehand; but I'll have one in a jiffy.'
+
+Margery stood in the middle of the dark room, while Jim struck a
+match; and then the young girl's eyes were conscious of a burst of
+light, and the rise into being of a pair of handsome silver
+candlesticks containing two candles that Jim was in the act of
+lighting.
+
+'Why--where--you have candlesticks like that?' said Margery.  Her
+eyes flew round the room as the growing candle-flames showed other
+articles.  'Pictures too--and lovely china--why I knew nothing of
+this, I declare.'
+
+'Yes--a few things that came to me by accident,' said Jim in quiet
+tones.
+
+'And a great gold clock under a glass, and a cupid swinging for a
+pendulum; and O what a lovely work-table--woods of every colour--and
+a work-box to match.  May I look inside that work-box, Jim?--whose is
+it?'
+
+'O yes; look at it, of course.  It is a poor enough thing, but 'tis
+mine; and it will belong to the woman I marry, whoever she may be, as
+well as all the other things here.'
+
+'And the curtains and the looking-glasses:  why I declare I can see
+myself in a hundred places.'
+
+'That tea-set,' said Jim, placidly pointing to a gorgeous china
+service and a large silver tea-pot on the side table, 'I don't use at
+present, being a bachelor-man; but, says I to myself, "whoever I
+marry will want some such things for giving her parties; or I can
+sell em"--but I haven't took steps for't yet--'
+
+'Sell 'em--no, I should think not,' said Margery with earnest
+reproach.  'Why, I hope you wouldn't be so foolish!  Why, this is
+exactly the kind of thing I was thinking of when I told you of the
+things women could want--of course not meaning myself particularly.
+I had no idea that you had such valuable--'
+
+Margery was unable to speak coherently, so much was she amazed at the
+wealth of Jim's possessions.
+
+At this moment her father and the lime-burner came upstairs; and to
+appear womanly and proper to Mr. Vine, Margery repressed the
+remainder of her surprise.
+
+As for the two elderly worthies, it was not till they entered the
+room and sat down that their slower eyes discerned anything brilliant
+in the appointments.  Then one of them stole a glance at some
+article, and the other at another; but each being unwilling to
+express his wonder in the presence of his neighbours, they received
+the objects before them with quite an accustomed air; the lime-burner
+inwardly trying to conjecture what all this meant, and the dairyman
+musing that if Jim's business allowed him to accumulate at this rate,
+the sooner Margery became his wife the better.  Margery retreated to
+the work-table, work-box, and tea-service, which she examined with
+hushed exclamations.
+
+An entertainment thus surprisingly begun could not fail to progress
+well.  Whenever Margery's crusty old father felt the need of a civil
+sentence, the flash of Jim's fancy articles inspired him to one;
+while the lime-burner, having reasoned away his first ominous thought
+that all this had come out of the firm, also felt proud and blithe.
+
+Jim accompanied his dairy friends part of the way home before they
+mounted.  Her father, finding that Jim wanted to speak to her
+privately, and that she exhibited some elusiveness, turned to Margery
+and said; 'Come, come, my lady; no more of this nonsense.  You just
+step behind with that young man, and I and the cart will wait for
+you.'
+
+Margery, a little scared at her father's peremptoriness, obeyed.  It
+was plain that Jim had won the old man by that night's stroke, if he
+had not won her.
+
+'I know what you are going to say, Jim,' she began, less ardently
+now, for she was no longer under the novel influence of the shining
+silver and glass.  'Well, as you desire it, and as my father desires
+it, and as I suppose it will be the best course for me, I will fix
+the day--not this evening, but as soon as I can think it over.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+
+Notwithstanding a press of business, Jim went and did his duty in
+thanking the Baron.  The latter saw him in his fishing-tackle room,
+an apartment littered with every appliance that a votary of the rod
+could require.
+
+'And when is the wedding-day to be, Hayward?' the Baron asked, after
+Jim had told him that matters were settled.
+
+'It is not quite certain yet, my noble lord,' said Jim cheerfully.
+'But I hope 'twill not be long after the time when God A'mighty
+christens the little apples.'
+
+'And when is that?'
+
+'St. Swithin's--the middle of July.  'Tis to be some time in that
+month, she tells me.'
+
+When Jim was gone the Baron seemed meditative.  He went out, ascended
+the mount, and entered the weather-screen, where he looked at the
+seats, as though re-enacting in his fancy the scene of that memorable
+morning of fog.  He turned his eyes to the angle of the shelter,
+round which Margery had suddenly appeared like a vision, and it was
+plain that he would not have minded her appearing there then.  The
+juncture had indeed been such an impressive and critical one that she
+must have seemed rather a heavenly messenger than a passing milkmaid,
+more especially to a man like the Baron, who, despite the mystery of
+his origin and life, revealed himself to be a melancholy, emotional
+character--the Jacques of this forest and stream.
+
+Behind the mount the ground rose yet higher, ascending to a
+plantation which sheltered the house.  The Baron strolled up here,
+and bent his gaze over the distance.  The valley of the Exe lay
+before him, with its shining river, the brooks that fed it, and the
+trickling springs that fed the brooks.  The situation of Margery's
+house was visible, though not the house itself; and the Baron gazed
+that way for an infinitely long time, till, remembering himself, he
+moved on.
+
+Instead of returning to the house he went along the ridge till he
+arrived at the verge of Chillington Wood, and in the same desultory
+manner roamed under the trees, not pausing till he had come to Three-
+Walks-End, and the hollow elm hard by.  He peeped in at the rift.  In
+the soft dry layer of touch-wood that floored the hollow Margery's
+tracks were still visible, as she had made them there when dressing
+for the ball.
+
+'Little Margery!' murmured the Baron.
+
+In a moment he thought better of this mood, and turned to go home.
+But behold, a form stood behind him--that of the girl whose name had
+been on his lips.
+
+She was in utter confusion.  'I--I--did not know you were here, sir!'
+she began.  'I was out for a little walk.'  She could get no further;
+her eyes filled with tears.  That spice of wilfulness, even hardness,
+which characterized her in Jim's company, magically disappeared in
+the presence of the Baron.
+
+'Never mind, never mind,' said he, masking under a severe manner
+whatever he felt.  'The meeting is awkward, and ought not to have
+occurred, especially if as I suppose, you are shortly to be married
+to James Hayward.  But it cannot be helped now.  You had no idea I
+was here, of course.  Neither had I of seeing you.  Remember you
+cannot be too careful,' continued the Baron, in the same grave tone;
+'and I strongly request you as a friend to do your utmost to avoid
+meetings like this.  When you saw me before I turned, why did you not
+go away?'
+
+'I did not see you, sir.  I did not think of seeing you.  I was
+walking this way, and I only looked in to see the tree.'
+
+'That shows you have been thinking of things you should not think
+of,' returned the Baron.  'Good morning.'
+
+Margery could answer nothing.  A browbeaten glance, almost of misery,
+was all she gave him.  He took a slow step away from her; then turned
+suddenly back and, stooping, impulsively kissed her cheek, taking her
+as much by surprise as ever a woman was taken in her life.
+
+Immediately after he went off with a flushed face and rapid strides,
+which he did not check till he was within his own boundaries.
+
+The haymaking season now set in vigorously, and the weir-hatches were
+all drawn in the meads to drain off the water.  The streams ran
+themselves dry, and there was no longer any difficulty in walking
+about among them.  The Baron could very well witness from the
+elevations about his house the activity which followed these
+preliminaries.  The white shirt-sleeves of the mowers glistened in
+the sun, the scythes flashed, voices echoed, snatches of song floated
+about, and there were glimpses of red waggon-wheels, purple gowns,
+and many-coloured handkerchiefs.
+
+The Baron had been told that the haymaking was to be followed by the
+wedding, and had he gone down the vale to the dairy he would have had
+evidence to that effect.  Dairyman Tucker's house was in a whirlpool
+of bustle, and among other difficulties was that of turning the
+cheese-room into a genteel apartment for the time being, and hiding
+the awkwardness of having to pass through the milk-house to get to
+the parlour door.  These household contrivances appeared to interest
+Margery much more than the great question of dressing for the
+ceremony and the ceremony itself.  In all relating to that she showed
+an indescribable backwardness, which later on was well remembered.
+
+'If it were only somebody else, and I was one of the bridesmaids, I
+really think I should like it better!' she murmured one afternoon.
+
+'Away with thee--that's only your shyness!' said one of the
+milkmaids.
+
+It is said that about this time the Baron seemed to feel the effects
+of solitude strongly.  Solitude revives the simple instincts of
+primitive man, and lonely country nooks afford rich soil for wayward
+emotions.  Moreover, idleness waters those unconsidered impulses
+which a short season of turmoil would stamp out.  It is difficult to
+speak with any exactness of the bearing of such conditions on the
+mind of the Baron--a man of whom so little was ever truly known--but
+there is no doubt that his mind ran much on Margery as an individual,
+without reference to her rank or quality, or to the question whether
+she would marry Jim Hayward that summer.  She was the single lovely
+human thing within his present horizon, for he lived in absolute
+seclusion; and her image unduly affected him.
+
+But, leaving conjecture, let me state what happened.
+
+One Saturday evening, two or three weeks after his accidental meeting
+with her in the wood, he wrote the note following:-
+
+
+DEAR MARGERY, -
+
+You must not suppose that, because I spoke somewhat severely to you
+at our chance encounter by the hollow tree, I have any feeling
+against you.  Far from it.  Now, as ever, I have the most grateful
+sense of your considerate kindness to me on a momentous occasion
+which shall be nameless.
+
+You solemnly promised to come and see me whenever I should send for
+you.  Can you call for five minutes as soon as possible, and disperse
+those plaguy glooms from which I am so unfortunate as to suffer?  If
+you refuse I will not answer for the consequences.
+
+I shall be in the summer shelter of the mount to-morrow morning at
+half-past ten.  If you come I shall be grateful.  I have also
+something for you.  Yours,
+
+X.
+
+
+In keeping with the tenor of this epistle the desponding, self-
+oppressed Baron ascended the mount on Sunday morning and sat down.
+There was nothing here to signify exactly the hour, but before the
+church bells had begun he heard somebody approaching at the back.
+The light footstep moved timidly, first to one recess, and then to
+another; then to the third, where he sat in the shade.  Poor Margery
+stood before him.
+
+She looked worn and weary, and her little shoes and the skirts of her
+dress were covered with dust.  The weather was sultry, the sun being
+already high and powerful, and rain had not fallen for weeks.  The
+Baron, who walked little, had thought nothing of the effects of this
+heat and drought in inducing fatigue.  A distance which had been but
+a reasonable exercise on a foggy morning was a drag for Margery now.
+She was out of breath; and anxiety, even unhappiness was written on
+her everywhere.
+
+He rose to his feet, and took her hand.  He was vexed with himself at
+sight of her.  'My dear little girl!' he said.  'You are tired--you
+should not have come.'
+
+'You sent for me, sir; and I was afraid you were ill; and my promise
+to you was sacred.'
+
+He bent over her, looking upon her downcast face, and still holding
+her hand; then he dropped it, and took a pace or two backwards.
+
+'It was a whim, nothing more,' he said, sadly.  'I wanted to see my
+little friend, to express good wishes--and to present her with this.'
+He held forward a small morocco case, and showed her how to open it,
+disclosing a pretty locket, set with pearls.  'It is intended as a
+wedding present,' he continued.  'To be returned to me again if you
+do not marry Jim this summer--it is to be this summer, I think?'
+
+'It was, sir,' she said with agitation.  'But it is so no longer.
+And, therefore, I cannot take this.'
+
+'What do you say?'
+
+'It was to have been to-day; but now it cannot be.'
+
+'The wedding to-day--Sunday?' he cried.
+
+'We fixed Sunday not to hinder much time at this busy season of the
+year,' replied she.
+
+'And have you, then, put it off--surely not?'
+
+'You sent for me, and I have come,' she answered humbly, like an
+obedient familiar in the employ of some great enchanter.  Indeed, the
+Baron's power over this innocent girl was curiously like enchantment,
+or mesmeric influence.  It was so masterful that the sexual element
+was almost eliminated.  It was that of Prospero over the gentle
+Ariel.  And yet it was probably only that of the cosmopolite over the
+recluse, of the experienced man over the simple maid.
+
+'You have come--on your wedding-day!--O Margery, this is a mistake.
+Of course, you should not have obeyed me, since, though I thought
+your wedding would be soon, I did not know it was to-day.'
+
+'I promised you, sir; and I would rather keep my promise to you than
+be married to Jim.'
+
+'That must not be--the feeling is wrong!' he murmured, looking at the
+distant hills.  'There seems to be a fate in all this; I get out of
+the frying-pan into the fire.  What a recompense to you for your
+goodness!  The fact is, I was out of health and out of spirits, so I-
+-but no more of that.  Now instantly to repair this tremendous
+blunder that we have made--that's the question.'
+
+After a pause, he went on hurriedly, 'Walk down the hill; get into
+the road.  By that time I shall be there with a phaeton.  We may get
+back in time.  What time is it now?  If not, no doubt the wedding can
+be to-morrow; so all will come right again.  Don't cry, my dear girl.
+Keep the locket, of course--you'll marry Jim.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+
+He hastened down towards the stables, and she went on as directed.
+It seemed as if he must have put in the horse himself, so quickly did
+he reappear with the phaeton on the open road.  Margery silently took
+her seat, and the Baron seemed cut to the quick with self-reproach as
+he noticed the listless indifference with which she acted.  There was
+no doubt that in her heart she had preferred obeying the apparently
+important mandate that morning to becoming Jim's wife; but there was
+no less doubt that had the Baron left her alone she would quietly
+have gone to the altar.
+
+He drove along furiously, in a cloud of dust.  There was much to
+contemplate in that peaceful Sunday morning--the windless trees and
+fields, the shaking sunlight, the pause in human stir.  Yet neither
+of them heeded, and thus they drew near to the dairy.  His first
+expressed intention had been to go indoors with her, but this he
+abandoned as impolitic in the highest degree.
+
+'You may be soon enough,' he said, springing down, and helping her to
+follow.  'Tell the truth:  say you were sent for to receive a wedding
+present--that it was a mistake on my part--a mistake on yours; and I
+think they'll forgive . . . And, Margery, my last request to you is
+this:  that if I send for you again, you do not come.  Promise
+solemnly, my dear girl, that any such request shall be unheeded.'
+
+Her lips moved, but the promise was not articulated.  'O, sir, I
+cannot promise it!' she said at last.
+
+'But you must; your salvation may depend on it!' he insisted almost
+sternly.  'You don't know what I am.'
+
+'Then, sir, I promise,' she replied.  'Now leave me to myself,
+please, and I'll go indoors and manage matters.'
+
+He turned the horse and drove away, but only for a little distance.
+Out of sight he pulled rein suddenly.  'Only to go back and propose
+it to her, and she'd come!' he murmured.
+
+He stood up in the phaeton, and by this means he could see over the
+hedge.  Margery still sat listlessly in the same place; there was not
+a lovelier flower in the field.  'No,' he said; 'no, no--never!'  He
+reseated himself, and the wheels sped lightly back over the soft dust
+to Mount Lodge.
+
+Meanwhile Margery had not moved.  If the Baron could dissimulate on
+the side of severity she could dissimulate on the side of calm.  He
+did not know what had been veiled by the quiet promise to manage
+matters indoors.  Rising at length she first turned away from the
+house; and, by-and-by, having apparently forgotten till then that she
+carried it in her hand, she opened the case, and looked at the
+locket.  This seemed to give her courage.  She turned, set her face
+towards the dairy in good earnest, and though her heart faltered when
+the gates came in sight, she kept on and drew near the door.
+
+On the threshold she stood listening.  The house was silent.
+Decorations were visible in the passage, and also the carefully swept
+and sanded path to the gate, which she was to have trodden as a
+bride; but the sparrows hopped over it as if it were abandoned; and
+all appeared to have been checked at its climacteric, like a clock
+stopped on the strike.  Till this moment of confronting the suspended
+animation of the scene she had not realized the full shock of the
+convulsion which her disappearance must have caused.  It is quite
+certain--apart from her own repeated assurances to that effect in
+later years--that in hastening off that morning to her sudden
+engagement, Margery had not counted the cost of such an enterprise;
+while a dim notion that she might get back again in time for the
+ceremony, if the message meant nothing serious, should also be
+mentioned in her favour.  But, upon the whole, she had obeyed the
+call with an unreasoning obedience worthy of a disciple in primitive
+times.  A conviction that the Baron's life might depend upon her
+presence--for she had by this time divined the tragical event she had
+interrupted on the foggy morning--took from her all will to judge and
+consider calmly.  The simple affairs of her and hers seemed nothing
+beside the possibility of harm to him.
+
+A well-known step moved on the sanded floor within, and she went
+forward.  That she saw her father's face before her, just within the
+door, can hardly be said:  it was rather Reproach and Rage in a human
+mask.
+
+'What! ye have dared to come back alive, hussy, to look upon the
+dupery you have practised on honest people!  You've mortified us all;
+I don't want to see 'ee; I don't want to hear 'ee; I don't want to
+know anything!'  He walked up and down the room, unable to command
+himself.  'Nothing but being dead could have excused 'ee for not
+meeting and marrying that man this morning; and yet you have the
+brazen impudence to stand there as well as ever!  What be you here
+for?'
+
+'I've come back to marry Jim, if he wants me to,' she said faintly.
+'And if not--perhaps so much the better.  I was sent for this morning
+early.  I thought--.'  She halted.  To say that she had thought a
+man's death might happen by his own hand if she did not go to him,
+would never do.  'I was obliged to go,' she said.  'I had given my
+word.'
+
+'Why didn't you tell us then, so that the wedding could be put off,
+without making fools o' us?'
+
+'Because I was afraid you wouldn't let me go, and I had made up my
+mind to go.'
+
+'To go where?'
+
+She was silent; till she said, 'I will tell Jim all, and why it was;
+and if he's any friend of mine he'll excuse me.'
+
+'Not Jim--he's no such fool.  Jim had put all ready for you, Jim had
+called at your house, a-dressed up in his new wedding clothes, and a-
+smiling like the sun; Jim had told the parson, had got the ringers in
+tow, and the clerk awaiting; and then--you was GONE!  Then Jim turned
+as pale as rendlewood, and busted out, "If she don't marry me to-
+day," 'a said, "she don't marry me at all!  No; let her look
+elsewhere for a husband.  For tew years I've put up with her haughty
+tricks and her takings," 'a said.  "I've droudged and I've traipsed,
+I've bought and I've sold, all wi' an eye to her; I've suffered
+horseflesh," he says--yes, them was his noble words--"but I'll suffer
+it no longer.  She shall go!"  "Jim," says I, "you be a man.  If
+she's alive, I commend 'ee; if she's dead, pity my old age."  "She
+isn't dead," says he; "for I've just heard she was seen walking off
+across the fields this morning, looking all of a scornful triumph."
+He turned round and went, and the rest o' the neighbours went; and
+here be I left to the reproach o't.'
+
+'He was too hasty,' murmured Margery.  'For now he's said this I
+can't marry him to-morrow, as I might ha' done; and perhaps so much
+the better.'
+
+'You can be so calm about it, can ye?  Be my arrangements nothing,
+then, that you should break 'em up, and say off hand what wasn't done
+to-day might ha' been done to-morrow, and such flick-flack?  Out o'
+my sight!  I won't hear any more.  I won't speak to 'ee any more.'
+
+'I'll go away, and then you'll be sorry!'
+
+'Very well, go.  Sorry--not I.'
+
+He turned and stamped his way into the cheese-room.  Margery went
+upstairs.  She too was excited now, and instead of fortifying herself
+in her bedroom till her father's rage had blown over, as she had
+often done on lesser occasions, she packed up a bundle of articles,
+crept down again, and went out of the house.  She had a place of
+refuge in these cases of necessity, and her father knew it, and was
+less alarmed at seeing her depart than he might otherwise have been.
+This place was Rook's Gate, the house of her grandmother, who always
+took Margery's part when that young woman was particularly in the
+wrong.
+
+The devious way she pursued, to avoid the vicinity of Mount Lodge,
+was tedious, and she was already weary.  But the cottage was a
+restful place to arrive at, for she was her own mistress there--her
+grandmother never coming down stairs--and Edy, the woman who lived
+with and attended her, being a cipher except in muscle and voice.
+The approach was by a straight open road, bordered by thin lank
+trees, all sloping away from the south-west wind-quarter, and the
+scene bore a strange resemblance to certain bits of Dutch landscape
+which have been imprinted on the world's eye by Hobbema and his
+school.
+
+Having explained to her granny that the wedding was put off; and that
+she had come to stay, one of Margery's first acts was carefully to
+pack up the locket and case, her wedding present from the Baron.  The
+conditions of the gift were unfulfilled, and she wished it to go back
+instantly.  Perhaps, in the intricacies of her bosom, there lurked a
+greater satisfaction with the reason for returning the present than
+she would have felt just then with a reason for keeping it.
+
+To send the article was difficult.  In the evening she wrapped
+herself up, searched and found a gauze veil that had been used by her
+grandmother in past years for hiving swarms of bees, buried her face
+in it, and sallied forth with a palpitating heart till she drew near
+the tabernacle of her demi-god the Baron.  She ventured only to the
+back-door, where she handed in the parcel addressed to him, and
+quickly came away.
+
+Now it seems that during the day the Baron had been unable to learn
+the result of his attempt to return Margery in time for the event he
+had interrupted.  Wishing, for obvious reasons, to avoid direct
+inquiry by messenger, and being too unwell to go far himself, he
+could learn no particulars.  He was sitting in thought after a lonely
+dinner when the parcel intimating failure as brought in.  The
+footman, whose curiosity had been excited by the mode of its arrival,
+peeped through the keyhole after closing the door, to learn what the
+packet meant.  Directly the Baron had opened it he thrust out his
+feet vehemently from his chair, and began cursing his ruinous conduct
+in bringing about such a disaster, for the return of the locket
+denoted not only no wedding that day, but none to-morrow, or at any
+time.
+
+'I have done that innocent woman a great wrong!' he murmured.
+'Deprived her of, perhaps, her only opportunity of becoming mistress
+of a happy home!'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+
+A considerable period of inaction followed among all concerned.
+
+Nothing tended to dissipate the obscurity which veiled the life of
+the Baron.  The position he occupied in the minds of the country-folk
+around was one which combined the mysteriousness of a legendary
+character with the unobtrusive deeds of a modern gentleman.  To this
+day whoever takes the trouble to go down to Silverthorn in Lower
+Wessex and make inquiries will find existing there almost a
+superstitious feeling for the moody melancholy stranger who resided
+in the Lodge some forty years ago.
+
+Whence he came, whither he was going, were alike unknown.  It was
+said that his mother had been an English lady of noble family who had
+married a foreigner not unheard of in circles where men pile up 'the
+cankered heaps of strange-achieved gold'--that he had been born and
+educated in England, taken abroad, and so on.  But the facts of a
+life in such cases are of little account beside the aspect of a life;
+and hence, though doubtless the years of his existence contained
+their share of trite and homely circumstance, the curtain which
+masked all this was never lifted to gratify such a theatre of
+spectators as those at Silverthorn.  Therein lay his charm.  His life
+was a vignette, of which the central strokes only were drawn with any
+distinctness, the environment shading away to a blank.
+
+He might have been said to resemble that solitary bird the heron.
+The still, lonely stream was his frequent haunt:  on its banks he
+would stand for hours with his rod, looking into the water, beholding
+the tawny inhabitants with the eye of a philosopher, and seeming to
+say, 'Bite or don't bite--it's all the same to me.'  He was often
+mistaken for a ghost by children; and for a pollard willow by men,
+when, on their way home in the dusk, they saw him motionless by some
+rushy bank, unobservant of the decline of day.
+
+Why did he come to fish near Silverthorn?  That was never explained.
+As far as was known he had no relatives near; the fishing there was
+not exceptionally good; the society thereabout was decidedly meagre.
+That he had committed some folly or hasty act, that he had been
+wrongfully accused of some crime, thus rendering his seclusion from
+the world desirable for a while, squared very well with his frequent
+melancholy.  But such as he was there he lived, well supplied with
+fishing-tackle, and tenant of a furnished house, just suited to the
+requirements of such an eccentric being as he.
+
+
+Margery's father, having privately ascertained that she was living
+with her grandmother, and getting into no harm, refrained from
+communicating with her, in the hope of seeing her contrite at his
+door.  It had, of course, become known about Silverthorn that at the
+last moment Margery refused to wed Hayward, by absenting herself from
+the house.  Jim was pitied, yet not pitied much, for it was said that
+he ought not to have been so eager for a woman who had shown no
+anxiety for him.
+
+And where was Jim himself?  It must not be supposed that that
+tactician had all this while withdrawn from mortal eye to tear his
+hair in silent indignation and despair.  He had, in truth, merely
+retired up the lonesome defile between the downs to his smouldering
+kiln, and the ancient ramparts above it; and there, after his first
+hours of natural discomposure, he quietly waited for overtures from
+the possibly repentant Margery.  But no overtures arrived, and then
+he meditated anew on the absorbing problem of her skittishness, and
+how to set about another campaign for her conquest, notwithstanding
+his late disastrous failure.  Why had he failed?  To what was her
+strange conduct owing?  That was the thing which puzzled him.
+
+He had made no advance in solving the riddle when, one morning, a
+stranger appeared on the down above him, looking as if he had lost
+his way.  The man had a good deal of black hair below his felt hat,
+and carried under his arm a case containing a musical instrument.
+Descending to where Jim stood, he asked if there were not a short cut
+across that way to Tivworthy, where a fete was to be held.
+
+'Well, yes, there is,' said Jim.  'But 'tis an enormous distance for
+'ee.'
+
+'Oh, yes,' replied the musician.  'I wish to intercept the carrier on
+the highway.'
+
+The nearest way was precisely in the direction of Rook's Gate, where
+Margery, as Jim knew, was staying.  Having some time to spare, Jim
+was strongly impelled to make a kind act to the lost musician a
+pretext for taking observations in that neighbourhood, and telling
+his acquaintance that he was going the same way, he started without
+further ado.
+
+They skirted the long length of meads, and in due time arrived at the
+back of Rook's Gate, where the path joined the high road.  A hedge
+divided the public way from the cottage garden.  Jim drew up at this
+point and said, 'Your road is straight on:  I turn back here.'
+
+But the musician was standing fixed, as if in great perplexity.
+Thrusting his hand into his forest of black hair, he murmured,
+'Surely it is the same--surely!'
+
+Jim, following the direction of his neighbour's eyes, found them to
+be fixed on a figure till that moment hidden from himself--Margery
+Tucker--who was crossing the garden to an opposite gate with a little
+cheese in her arms, her head thrown back, and her face quite exposed.
+
+'What of her?' said Jim.
+
+'Two months ago I formed one of the band at the Yeomanry Ball given
+by Lord Toneborough in the next county.  I saw that young lady
+dancing the polka there in robes of gauze and lace.  Now I see her
+carry a cheese!'
+
+'Never!' said Jim incredulously.
+
+'But I do not mistake.  I say it is so!'
+
+Jim ridiculed the idea; the bandsman protested, and was about to lose
+his temper, when Jim gave in with the good-nature of a person who can
+afford to despise opinions; and the musician went his way.
+
+As he dwindled out of sight Jim began to think more carefully over
+what he had said.  The young man's thoughts grew quite to an
+excitement, for there came into his mind the Baron's extraordinary
+kindness in regard to furniture, hitherto accounted for by the
+assumption that the nobleman had taken a fancy to him.  Could it be,
+among all the amazing things of life, that the Baron was at the
+bottom of this mischief; and that he had amused himself by taking
+Margery to a ball?
+
+Doubts and suspicions which distract some lovers to imbecility only
+served to bring out Jim's great qualities.  Where he trusted he was
+the most trusting fellow in the world; where he doubted he could be
+guilty of the slyest strategy.  Once suspicious, he became one of
+those subtle, watchful characters who, without integrity, make good
+thieves; with a little, good jobbers; with a little more, good
+diplomatists.  Jim was honest, and he considered what to do.
+
+Retracing his steps, he peeped again.  She had gone in; but she would
+soon reappear, for it could be seen that she was carrying little new
+cheeses one by one to a spring-cart and horse tethered outside the
+gate--her grandmother, though not a regular dairywoman, still
+managing a few cows by means of a man and maid.  With the lightness
+of a cat Jim crept round to the gate, took a piece of chalk from his
+pocket, and wrote upon the boarding 'The Baron.'  Then he retreated
+to the other side of the garden where he had just watched Margery.
+
+In due time she emerged with another little cheese, came on to the
+garden-door, and glanced upon the chalked words which confronted her.
+She started; the cheese rolled from her arms to the ground, and broke
+into pieces like a pudding.
+
+She looked fearfully round, her face burning like sunset, and, seeing
+nobody, stooped to pick up the flaccid lumps.  Jim, with a pale face,
+departed as invisibly as he had come.  He had proved the bandsman's
+tale to be true.  On his way back he formed a resolution.  It was to
+beard the lion in his den--to call on the Baron.
+
+Meanwhile Margery had recovered her equanimity, and gathered up the
+broken cheese.  But she could by no means account for the
+handwriting.  Jim was just the sort of fellow to play her such a
+trick at ordinary times, but she imagined him to be far too incensed
+against her to do it now; and she suddenly wondered if it were any
+sort of signal from the Baron himself.
+
+Of him she had lately heard nothing.  If ever monotony pervaded a
+life it pervaded hers at Rook's Gate; and she had begun to despair of
+any happy change.  But it is precisely when the social atmosphere
+seems stagnant that great events are brewing.  Margery's quiet was
+broken first, as we have seen, by a slight start, only sufficient to
+make her drop a cheese; and then by a more serious matter.
+
+She was inside the same garden one day when she heard two watermen
+talking without.  The conversation was to the effect that the strange
+gentleman who had taken Mount Lodge for the season was seriously ill.
+
+'How ill?' cried Margery through the hedge, which screened her from
+recognition.
+
+'Bad abed,' said one of the watermen.
+
+'Inflammation of the lungs,' said the other.
+
+'Got wet, fishing,' the first chimed in.
+
+Margery could gather no more.  An ideal admiration rather than any
+positive passion existed in her breast for the Baron:  she had of
+late seen too little of him to allow any incipient views of him as a
+lover to grow to formidable dimensions.  It was an extremely romantic
+feeling, delicate as an aroma, capable of quickening to an active
+principle, or dying to 'a painless sympathy,' as the case might be.
+
+This news of his illness, coupled with the mysterious chalking on the
+gate, troubled her, and revived his image much.  She took to walking
+up and down the garden-paths, looking into the hearts of flowers, and
+not thinking what they were.  His last request had been that she was
+not to go to him if be should send for her; and now she asked
+herself, was the name on the gate a hint to enable her to go without
+infringing the letter of her promise?  Thus unexpectedly had Jim's
+manoeuvre operated.
+
+Ten days passed.  All she could hear of the Baron were the same
+words, 'Bad abed,' till one afternoon, after a gallop of the
+physician to the Lodge, the tidings spread like lightning that the
+Baron was dying.
+
+Margery distressed herself with the question whether she might be
+permitted to visit him and say her prayers at his bedside; but she
+feared to venture; and thus eight-and-forty hours slipped away, and
+the Baron still lived.  Despite her shyness and awe of him she had
+almost made up her mind to call when, just at dusk on that October
+evening, somebody came to the door and asked for her.
+
+She could see the messenger's head against the low new moon.  He was
+a man-servant.  He said he had been all the way to her father's, and
+had been sent thence to her here.  He simply brought a note, and,
+delivering it into her hands, went away.
+
+
+DEAR MARGERY TUCKER (ran the note)--They say I am not likely to live,
+so I want to see you.  Be here at eight o'clock this evening.  Come
+quite alone to the side-door, and tap four times softly.  My trusty
+man will admit you.  The occasion is an important one.  Prepare
+yourself for a solemn ceremony, which I wish to have performed while
+it lies in my power.
+
+VON XANTEN.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+
+Margery's face flushed up, and her neck and arms glowed in sympathy.
+The quickness of youthful imagination, and the assumptiveness of
+woman's reason, sent her straight as an arrow this thought:  'He
+wants to marry me!'
+
+She had heard of similar strange proceedings, in which the orange-
+flower and the sad cypress were intertwined.  People sometimes wished
+on their death-beds, from motives of esteem, to form a legal tie
+which they had not cared to establish as a domestic one during their
+active life.
+
+For a few minutes Margery could hardly be called excited; she was
+excitement itself.  Between surprise and modesty she blushed and
+trembled by turns.  She became grave, sat down in the solitary room,
+and looked into the fire.  At seven o'clock she rose resolved, and
+went quite tranquilly upstairs, where she speedily began to dress.
+
+In making this hasty toilet nine-tenths of her care were given to her
+hands.  The summer had left them slightly brown, and she held them up
+and looked at them with some misgiving, the fourth finger of her left
+hand more especially.  Hot washings and cold washings, certain
+products from bee and flower known only to country girls, everything
+she could think of, were used upon those little sunburnt hands, till
+she persuaded herself that they were really as white as could be
+wished by a husband with a hundred titles.  Her dressing completed,
+she left word with Edy that she was going for a long walk, and set
+out in the direction of Mount Lodge.
+
+She no longer tripped like a girl, but walked like a woman.  While
+crossing the park she murmured 'Baroness von Xanten' in a
+pronunciation of her own.  The sound of that title caused her such
+agitation that she was obliged to pause, with her hand upon her
+heart.
+
+The house was so closely neighboured by shrubberies on three of its
+sides that it was not till she had gone nearly round it that she
+found the little door.  The resolution she had been an hour in
+forming failed her when she stood at the portal.  While pausing for
+courage to tap, a carriage drove up to the front entrance a little
+way off, and peeping round the corner she saw alight a clergyman, and
+a gentleman in whom Margery fancied that she recognized a well-known
+solicitor from the neighbouring town.  She had no longer any doubt of
+the nature of the ceremony proposed.  'It is sudden but I must obey
+him!' she murmured:  and tapped four times.
+
+The door was opened so quickly that the servant must have been
+standing immediately inside.  She thought him the man who had driven
+them to the ball--the silent man who could be trusted.  Without a
+word he conducted her up the back staircase, and through a door at
+the top, into a wide corridor.  She was asked to wait in a little
+dressing-room, where there was a fire, and an old metal-framed
+looking-glass over the mantel-piece, in which she caught sight of
+herself.  A red spot burnt in each of her cheeks; the rest of her
+face was pale; and her eyes were like diamonds of the first water.
+
+Before she had been seated many minutes the man came back
+noiselessly, and she followed him to a door covered by a red and
+black curtain, which he lifted, and ushered her into a large chamber.
+A screened light stood on a table before her, and on her left the
+hangings of a tall dark four-post bedstead obstructed her view of the
+centre of the room.  Everything here seemed of such a magnificent
+type to her eyes that she felt confused, diminished to half her
+height, half her strength, half her prettiness.  The man who had
+conducted her retired at once, and some one came softly round the
+angle of the bed-curtains.  He held out his hand kindly--rather
+patronisingly:  it was the solicitor whom she knew by sight.  This
+gentleman led her forward, as if she had been a lamb rather than a
+woman, till the occupant of the bed was revealed.
+
+The Baron's eyes were closed, and her entry had been so noiseless
+that he did not open them.  The pallor of his face nearly matched the
+white bed-linen, and his dark hair and heavy black moustache were
+like dashes of ink on a clean page.  Near him sat the parson and
+another gentleman, whom she afterwards learnt to be a London
+physician; and on the parson whispering a few words the Baron opened
+his eyes.  As soon as he saw her he smiled faintly, and held out his
+hand.
+
+Margery would have wept for him, if she had not been too overawed and
+palpitating to do anything.  She quite forgot what she had come for,
+shook hands with him mechanically, and could hardly return an answer
+to his weak 'Dear Margery, you see how I am--how are you?'
+
+In preparing for marriage she had not calculated on such a scene as
+this.  Her affection for the Baron had too much of the vague in it to
+afford her trustfulness now.  She wished she had not come.  On a sign
+from the Baron the lawyer brought her a chair, and the oppressive
+silence was broken by the Baron's words.
+
+'I am pulled down to death's door, Margery,' he said; 'and I suppose
+I soon shall pass through . . . My peace has been much disturbed in
+this illness, for just before it attacked me I received--that present
+you returned, from which, and in other ways, I learnt that you had
+lost your chance of marriage . . . Now it was I who did the harm, and
+you can imagine how the news has affected me.  It has worried me all
+the illness through, and I cannot dismiss my error from my mind . . .
+I want to right the wrong I have done you before I die.  Margery, you
+have always obeyed me, and, strange as the request may be, will you
+obey me now?'
+
+She whispered 'Yes.'
+
+'Well, then,' said the Baron, 'these three gentlemen are here for a
+special purpose:  one helps the body--he's called a physician;
+another helps the soul--he's a parson; the other helps the
+understanding--he's a lawyer.  They are here partly on my account,
+and partly on yours.'
+
+The speaker then made a sign to the lawyer, who went out of the door.
+He came back almost instantly, but not alone.  Behind him, dressed up
+in his best clothes, with a flower in his buttonhole and a
+bridegroom's air, walked--Jim.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+
+Margery could hardly repress a scream.  As for flushing and blushing,
+she had turned hot and turned pale so many times already during the
+evening, that there was really now nothing of that sort left for her
+to do; and she remained in complexion much as before.  O, the mockery
+of it!  That secret dream--that sweet word 'Baroness!'--which had
+sustained her all the way along.  Instead of a Baron there stood Jim,
+white-waistcoated, demure, every hair in place, and, if she mistook
+not, even a deedy spark in his eye.
+
+Jim's surprising presence on the scene may be briefly accounted for.
+His resolve to seek an explanation with the Baron at all risks had
+proved unexpectedly easy:  the interview had at once been granted,
+and then, seeing the crisis at which matters stood, the Baron had
+generously revealed to Jim the whole of his indebtedness to and
+knowledge of Margery.  The truth of the Baron's statement, the
+innocent nature as yet of the acquaintanceship, his sorrow for the
+rupture he had produced, was so evident that, far from having any
+further doubts of his patron, Jim frankly asked his advice on the
+next step to be pursued.  At this stage the Baron fell ill, and,
+desiring much to see the two young people united before his death, he
+had sent anew Hayward, and proposed the plan which they were to now
+about to attempt--a marriage at the bedside of the sick man by
+special licence.  The influence at Lambeth of some friends of the
+Baron's, and the charitable bequests of his late mother to several
+deserving Church funds, were generally supposed to be among the
+reasons why the application for the licence was not refused.
+
+This, however, is of small consequence.  The Baron probably knew, in
+proposing this method of celebrating the marriage, that his enormous
+power over her would outweigh any sentimental obstacles which she
+might set up--inward objections that, without his presence and
+firmness, might prove too much for her acquiescence.  Doubtless he
+foresaw, too, the advantage of getting her into the house before
+making the individuality of her husband clear to her mind.
+
+Now, the Baron's conjectures were right as to the event, but wrong as
+to the motives.  Margery was a perfect little dissembler on some
+occasions, and one of them was when she wished to hide any sudden
+mortification that might bring her into ridicule.  She had no sooner
+recovered from her first fit of discomfiture than pride bade her
+suffer anything rather than reveal her absurd disappointment.  Hence
+the scene progressed as follows:
+
+'Come here, Hayward,' said the invalid.  Hayward came near.  The
+Baron, holding her hand in one of his own, and her lover's in the
+other, continued, 'Will you, in spite of your recent vexation with
+her, marry her now if she does not refuse?'
+
+'I will, sir,' said Jim promptly.
+
+'And Margery, what do you say?  It is merely a setting of things
+right.  You have already promised this young man to be his wife, and
+should, of course, perform your promise.  You don't dislike Jim?'
+
+'O, no, sir,' she said, in a low, dry voice.
+
+'I like him better than I can tell you,' said the Baron.  'He is an
+honourable man, and will make you a good husband.  You must remember
+that marriage is a life contract, in which general compatibility of
+temper and worldly position is of more importance than fleeting
+passion, which never long survives.  Now, will you, at my earnest
+request, and before I go to the South of Europe to die, agree to make
+this good man happy?  I have expressed your views on the subject,
+haven't I, Hayward?'
+
+'To a T, sir,' said Jim emphatically; with a motion of raising his
+hat to his influential ally, till he remembered he had no hat on.
+'And, though I could hardly expect Margery to gie in for my asking, I
+feels she ought to gie in for yours.'
+
+'And you accept him, my little friend?'
+
+'Yes, sir,' she murmured, 'if he'll agree to a thing or two.'
+
+'Doubtless he will--what are they?'
+
+'That I shall not be made to live with him till I am in the mind for
+it; and that my having him shall be kept unknown for the present.'
+
+'Well, what do you think of it, Hayward?'
+
+'Anything that you or she may wish I'll do, my noble lord,' said Jim.
+
+'Well, her request is not unreasonable, seeing that the proceedings
+are, on my account, a little hurried.  So we'll proceed.  You rather
+expected this, from my allusion to a ceremony in my note, did you
+not, Margery?'
+
+'Yes, sir,' said she, with an effort.
+
+'Good; I thought so; you looked so little surprised.'
+
+We now leave the scene in the bedroom for a spot not many yards off.
+
+When the carriage seen by Margery at the door was driving up to Mount
+Lodge it arrested the attention, not only of the young girl, but of a
+man who had for some time been moving slowly about the opposite lawn,
+engaged in some operation while he smoked a short pipe.  A short
+observation of his doings would have shown that he was sheltering
+some delicate plants from an expected frost, and that he was the
+gardener.  When the light at the door fell upon the entering forms of
+parson and lawyer--the former a stranger, the latter known to him--
+the gardener walked thoughtfully round the house.  Reaching the small
+side-entrance he was further surprised to see it noiselessly open to
+a young woman, in whose momentarily illumined features he discerned
+those of Margery Tucker.
+
+Altogether there was something curious in this.  The man returned to
+the lawn front, and perfunctorily went on putting shelters over
+certain plants, though his thoughts were plainly otherwise engaged.
+On the grass his footsteps were noiseless, and the night moreover
+being still, he could presently hear a murmuring from the bedroom
+window over his head.
+
+The gardener took from a tree a ladder that he had used in nailing
+that day, set it under the window, and ascended half-way, hoodwinking
+his conscience by seizing a nail or two with his hand and testing
+their twig-supporting powers.  He soon heard enough to satisfy him.
+The words of a church-service in the strange parson's voice were
+audible in snatches through the blind:  they were words he knew to be
+part of the solemnization of matrimony, such as 'wedded wife,'
+'richer for poorer,' and so on; the less familiar parts being a more
+or less confused sound.
+
+Satisfied that a wedding was in progress there, the gardener did not
+for a moment dream that one of the contracting parties could be other
+than the sick Baron.  He descended the ladder and again walked round
+the house, waiting only till he saw Margery emerge from the same
+little door; when, fearing that he might be discovered, he withdrew
+in the direction of his own cottage.
+
+This building stood at the lower corner of the garden, and as soon as
+the gardener entered he was accosted by a handsome woman in a widow's
+cap, who called him father, and said that supper had been ready for a
+long time.  They sat down, but during the meal the gardener was so
+abstracted and silent that his daughter put her head winningly to one
+side and said, 'What is it, father dear?'
+
+'Ah--what is it!' cried the gardener.  'Something that makes very
+little difference to me, but may be of great account to you, if you
+play your cards well.  THERE'S BEEN A WEDDING AT THE LODGE TO-NIGHT!'
+He related to her, with a caution to secrecy, all that he had heard
+and seen.
+
+'We are folk that have got to get their living,' he said, 'and such
+ones mustn't tell tales about their betters,--Lord forgive the
+mockery of the word!--but there's something to be made of it.  She's
+a nice maid; so, Harriet, do you take the first chance you get for
+honouring her, before others know what has happened.  Since this is
+done so privately it will be kept private for some time--till after
+his death, no question;--when I expect she'll take this house for
+herself; and blaze out as a widow-lady ten thousand pound strong.
+You being a widow, she may make you her company-keeper; and so you'll
+have a home by a little contriving.'
+
+While this conversation progressed at the gardener's Margery was on
+her way out of the Baron's house.  She was, indeed, married.  But, as
+we know, she was not married to the Baron.  The ceremony over she
+seemed but little discomposed, and expressed a wish to return alone
+as she had come.  To this, of course, no objection could be offered
+under the terms of the agreement, and wishing Jim a frigid good-bye,
+and the Baron a very quiet farewell, she went out by the door which
+had admitted her.  Once safe and alone in the darkness of the park
+she burst into tears, which dropped upon the grass as she passed
+along.  In the Baron's room she had seemed scared and helpless; now
+her reason and emotions returned.  The further she got away from the
+glamour of that room, and the influence of its occupant, the more she
+became of opinion that she had acted foolishly.  She had
+disobediently left her father's house, to obey him here.  She had
+pleased everybody but herself.
+
+However, thinking was now too late.  How she got into her
+grandmother's house she hardly knew; but without a supper, and
+without confronting either her relative or Edy, she went to bed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+
+On going out into the garden next morning, with a strange sense of
+being another person than herself, she beheld Jim leaning mutely over
+the gate.
+
+He nodded.  'Good morning, Margery,' he said civilly.
+
+'Good morning,' said Margery in the same tone.
+
+'I beg your pardon,' he continued.  'But which way was you going this
+morning?'
+
+'I am not going anywhere just now, thank you.  But I shall go to my
+father's by-and-by with Edy.'  She went on with a sigh, 'I have done
+what he has all along wished, that is, married you; and there's no
+longer reason for enmity atween him and me.'
+
+'Trew--trew.  Well, as I am going the same way, I can give you a lift
+in the trap, for the distance is long.'
+
+'No thank you--I am used to walking,' she said.
+
+They remained in silence, the gate between them, till Jim's
+convictions would apparently allow him to hold his peace no longer.
+'This is a bad job!' he murmured.
+
+'It is,' she said, as one whose thoughts have only too readily been
+identified.  'How I came to agree to it is more than I can tell!'
+And tears began rolling down her cheeks.
+
+'The blame is more mine than yours, I suppose,' he returned.  'I
+ought to have said No, and not backed up the gentleman in carrying
+out this scheme.  'Twas his own notion entirely, as perhaps you know.
+I should never have thought of such a plan; but he said you'd be
+willing, and that it would be all right; and I was too ready to
+believe him.'
+
+'The thing is, how to remedy it,' said she bitterly.  'I believe, of
+course, in your promise to keep this private, and not to trouble me
+by calling.'
+
+'Certainly,' said Jim.  'I don't want to trouble you.  As for that,
+why, my dear Mrs. Hayward--'
+
+'Don't Mrs. Hayward me!' said Margery sharply.  'I won't be Mrs.
+Hayward!'
+
+Jim paused.  'Well, you are she by law, and that was all I meant,' he
+said mildly.
+
+'I said I would acknowledge no such thing, and I won't.  A thing
+can't be legal when it's against the wishes of the persons the laws
+are made to protect.  So I beg you not to call me that anymore.'
+
+'Very well, Miss Tucker,' said Jim deferentially.  'We can live on
+exactly as before.  We can't marry anybody else, that's true; but
+beyond that there's no difference, and no harm done.  Your father
+ought to be told, I suppose, even if nobody else is?  It will partly
+reconcile him to you, and make your life smoother.'
+
+Instead of directly replying, Margery exclaimed in a low voice:
+
+'O, it is a mistake--I didn't see it all, owing to not having time to
+reflect!  I agreed, thinking that at least I should get reconciled to
+father by the step.  But perhaps he would as soon have me not married
+at all as married and parted.  I must ha' been enchanted--bewitched--
+when I gave my consent to this!  I only did it to please that dear
+good dying nobleman--though why he should have wished it so much I
+can't tell!'
+
+'Nor I neither,' said Jim.  'Yes, we've been fooled into it,
+Margery,' he said, with extraordinary gravity.  'He's had his way wi'
+us, and now we've got to suffer for it.  Being a gentleman of
+patronage, and having bought several loads of lime o' me, and having
+given me all that splendid furniture, I could hardly refuse--'
+
+'What, did he give you that?'
+
+'Ay sure--to help me win ye.'
+
+Margery covered her face with her hands; whereupon Jim stood up from
+the gate and looked critically at her.  ''Tis a footy plot between
+you two men to--snare me!' she exclaimed.  'Why should you have done
+it--why should he have done it--when I've not deserved to be treated
+so.  He bought the furniture--did he!  O, I've been taken in--I've
+been wronged!'  The grief and vexation of finding that long ago, when
+fondly believing the Baron to have lover-like feelings himself for
+her, he was still conspiring to favour Jim's suit, was more than she
+could endure.
+
+Jim with distant courtesy waited, nibbling a straw, till her paroxysm
+was over.  'One word, Miss Tuck--Mrs.--Margery,' he then recommenced
+gravely.  'You'll find me man enough to respect your wish, and to
+leave you to yourself--for ever and ever, if that's all.  But I've
+just one word of advice to render 'ee.  That is, that before you go
+to Silverthorn Dairy yourself you let me drive ahead and call on your
+father.  He's friends with me, and he's not friends with you.  I can
+break the news, a little at a time, and I think I can gain his good
+will for you now, even though the wedding be no natural wedding at
+all.  At any count, I can hear what he's got to say about 'ee, and
+come back here and tell 'ee.'
+
+She nodded a cool assent to this, and he left her strolling about the
+garden in the sunlight while he went on to reconnoitre as agreed.  It
+must not be supposed that Jim's dutiful echoes of Margery's regret at
+her precipitate marriage were all gospel; and there is no doubt that
+his private intention, after telling the dairy-farmer what had
+happened, was to ask his temporary assent to her caprice, till, in
+the course of time, she should be reasoned out of her whims and
+induced to settle down with Jim in a natural manner.  He had, it is
+true, been somewhat nettled by her firm objection to him, and her
+keen sorrow for what she had done to please another; but he hoped for
+the best.
+
+But, alas for the astute Jim's calculations!  He drove on to the
+dairy, whose white walls now gleamed in the morning sun; made fast
+the horse to a ring in the wall, and entered the barton.  Before
+knocking, he perceived the dairyman walking across from a gate in the
+other direction, as if he had just come in.  Jim went over to him.
+Since the unfortunate incident on the morning of the intended wedding
+they had merely been on nodding terms, from a sense of awkwardness in
+their relations.
+
+'What--is that thee?' said Dairyman Tucker, in a voice which
+unmistakably startled Jim by its abrupt fierceness.  'A pretty fellow
+thou be'st!'
+
+It was a bad beginning for the young man's life as a son-in-law, and
+augured ill for the delicate consultation he desired.
+
+'What's the matter?' said Jim.
+
+'Matter!  I wish some folks would burn their lime without burning
+other folks' property along wi' it.  You ought to be ashamed of
+yourself.  You call yourself a man, Jim Hayward, and an honest lime-
+burner, and a respectable, market-keeping Christen, and yet at six
+o'clock this morning, instead o' being where you ought to ha' been--
+at your work, there was neither vell or mark o' thee to be seen!'
+
+'Faith, I don't know what you are raving at,' said Jim.
+
+'Why--the sparks from thy couch-heap blew over upon my hay-rick, and
+the rick's burnt to ashes; and all to come out o' my well-squeezed
+pocket.  I'll tell thee what it is, young man.  There's no business
+in thee.  I've known Silverthorn folk, quick and dead, for the last
+couple-o'-score year, and I've never knew one so three-cunning for
+harm as thee, my gentleman lime-burner; and I reckon it one o' the
+luckiest days o' my life when I 'scaped having thee in my family.
+That maid of mine was right; I was wrong.  She seed thee to be a
+drawlacheting rogue, and 'twas her wisdom to go off that morning and
+get rid o' thee.  I commend her for't, and I'm going to fetch her
+home to-morrow.'
+
+'You needn't take the trouble.  She's coming home-along to-night of
+her own accord.  I have seen her this morning, and she told me so.'
+
+'So much the better.  I'll welcome her warm.  Nation!  I'd sooner see
+her married to the parish fool than thee.  Not you--you don't care
+for my hay.  Tarrying about where you shouldn't be, in bed, no doubt;
+that's what you was a-doing.  Now, don't you darken my doors again,
+and the sooner you be off my bit o' ground the better I shall be
+pleased.'
+
+Jim looked, as he felt, stultified.  If the rick had been really
+destroyed, a little blame certainly attached to him, but he could not
+understand how it had happened.  However, blame or none, it was clear
+he could not, with any self-respect, declare himself to be this
+peppery old gaffer's son-in-law in the face of such an attack as
+this.
+
+For months--almost years--the one transaction that had seemed
+necessary to compose these two families satisfactorily was Jim's
+union with Margery.  No sooner had it been completed than it appeared
+on all sides as the gravest mishap for both.  Stating coldly that he
+would discover how much of the accident was to be attributed to his
+negligence, and pay the damage, he went out of the barton, and
+returned the way he had come.
+
+Margery had been keeping a look-out for him, particularly wishing him
+not to enter the house, lest others should see the seriousness of
+their interview; and as soon as she heard wheels she went to the
+gate, which was out of view.
+
+'Surely father has been speaking roughly to you!' she said, on seeing
+his face.
+
+'Not the least doubt that he have,' said Jim.
+
+'But is he still angry with me?'
+
+'Not in the least.  He's waiting to welcome 'ee.'
+
+'Ah! because I've married you.'
+
+'Because he thinks you have not married me!  He's jawed me up hill
+and down.  He hates me; and for your sake I have not explained a
+word.'
+
+Margery looked towards home with a sad, severe gaze.  'Mr. Hayward,'
+she said, 'we have made a great mistake, and we are in a strange
+position.'
+
+'True, but I'll tell you what, mistress--I won't stand--'  He stopped
+suddenly.  'Well, well; I've promised!' he quietly added.
+
+'We must suffer for our mistake,' she went on.  'The way to suffer
+least is to keep our own counsel on what happened last evening, and
+not to meet.  I must now return to my father.'
+
+He inclined his head in indifferent assent, and she went indoors,
+leaving him there.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+
+Margery returned home, as she had decided, and resumed her old life
+at Silverthorn.  And seeing her father's animosity towards Jim, she
+told him not a word of the marriage.
+
+Her inner life, however, was not what it once had been.  She had
+suffered a mental and emotional displacement--a shock, which had set
+a shade of astonishment on her face as a permanent thing.
+
+Her indignation with the Baron for collusion with Jim, at first
+bitter, lessened with the lapse of a few weeks, and at length
+vanished in the interest of some tidings she received one day.
+
+The Baron was not dead, but he was no longer at the Lodge.  To the
+surprise of the physicians, a sufficient improvement had taken place
+in his condition to permit of his removal before the cold weather
+came.  His desire for removal had been such, indeed, that it was
+advisable to carry it out at almost any risk.  The plan adopted had
+been to have him borne on men's shoulders in a sort of palanquin to
+the shore near Idmouth, a distance of several miles, where a yacht
+lay awaiting him.  By this means the noise and jolting of a carriage,
+along irregular bye-roads, were avoided.  The singular procession
+over the fields took place at night, and was witnessed by but few
+people, one being a labouring man, who described the scene to
+Margery.  When the seaside was reached a long, narrow gangway was
+laid from the deck of the yacht to the shore, which was so steep as
+to allow the yacht to lie quite near.  The men, with their burden,
+ascended by the light of lanterns, the sick man was laid in the
+cabin, and, as soon as his bearers had returned to the shore, the
+gangway was removed, a rope was heard skirring over wood in the
+darkness, the yacht quivered, spread her woven wings to the air, and
+moved away.  Soon she was but a small, shapeless phantom upon the
+wide breast of the sea.
+
+It was said that the yacht was bound for Algiers.
+
+When the inimical autumn and winter weather came on, Margery wondered
+if he were still alive.  The house being shut up, and the servants
+gone, she had no means of knowing, till, on a particular Saturday,
+her father drove her to Exonbury market.  Here, in attending to his
+business, he left her to herself for awhile.  Walking in a quiet
+street in the professional quarter of the town, she saw coming
+towards her the solicitor who had been present at the wedding, and
+who had acted for the Baron in various small local matters during his
+brief residence at the Lodge.
+
+She reddened to peony hues, averted her eyes, and would have passed
+him.  But he crossed over and barred the pavement, and when she met
+his glance he was looking with friendly severity at her.  The street
+was quiet, and he said in a low voice, 'How's the husband?'
+
+'I don't know, sir,' said she.
+
+'What--and are your stipulations about secrecy and separate living
+still in force?'
+
+'They will always be,' she replied decisively.  'Mr. Hayward and I
+agreed on the point, and we have not the slightest wish to change the
+arrangement.'
+
+'H'm.  Then 'tis Miss Tucker to the world; Mrs. Hayward to me and one
+or two others only?'
+
+Margery nodded.  Then she nerved herself by an effort, and, though
+blushing painfully, asked, 'May I put one question, sir?  Is the
+Baron dead?'
+
+'He is dead to you and to all of us.  Why should you ask?'
+
+'Because, if he's alive, I am sorry I married James Hayward.  If he
+is dead I do not much mind my marriage.'
+
+'I repeat, he is dead to you,' said the lawyer emphatically.  'I'll
+tell you all I know.  My professional services for him ended with his
+departure from this country; but I think I should have heard from him
+if he had been alive still.  I have not heard at all:  and this,
+taken in connection with the nature of his illness, leaves no doubt
+in my mind that he is dead.'
+
+Margery sighed, and thanking the lawyer she left him with a tear for
+the Baron in her eye.  After this incident she became more restful;
+and the time drew on for her periodical visit to her grandmother.
+
+A few days subsequent to her arrival her aged relative asked her to
+go with a message to the gardener at Mount Lodge (who still lived on
+there, keeping the grounds in order for the landlord).  Margery hated
+that direction now, but she went.  The Lodge, which she saw over the
+trees, was to her like a skull from which the warm and living flesh
+had vanished.  It was twilight by the time she reached the cottage at
+the bottom of the Lodge garden, and, the room being illuminated
+within, she saw through the window a woman she had never seen before.
+She was dark, and rather handsome, and when Margery knocked she
+opened the door.  It was the gardener's widowed daughter, who had
+been advised to make friends with Margery.
+
+She now found her opportunity.  Margery's errand was soon completed,
+the young widow, to her surprise, treating her with preternatural
+respect, and afterwards offering to accompany her home.  Margery was
+not sorry to have a companion in the gloom, and they walked on
+together.  The widow, Mrs. Peach, was demonstrative and confidential;
+and told Margery all about herself.  She had come quite recently to
+live with her father--during the Baron's illness, in fact--and her
+husband had been captain of a ketch.
+
+'I saw you one morning, ma'am,' she said.  'But you didn't see me.
+It was when you were crossing the hill in sight of the Lodge.  You
+looked at it, and sighed.  'Tis the lot of widows to sigh, ma'am, is
+it not?'
+
+'Widows--yes, I suppose; but what do you mean?'
+
+Mrs. Peach lowered her voice.  'I can't say more, ma'am, with proper
+respect.  But there seems to be no question of the poor Baron's
+death; and though these foreign princes can take (as my poor husband
+used to tell me) what they call left-handed wives, and leave them
+behind when they go abroad, widowhood is widowhood, left-handed or
+right.  And really, to be the left-handed wife of a foreign baron is
+nobler than to be married all round to a common man.  You'll excuse
+my freedom, ma'am; but being a widow myself, I have pitied you from
+my heart; so young as you are, and having to keep it a secret, and
+(excusing me) having no money out of his vast riches because 'tis
+swallowed up by Baroness Number One.'
+
+Now Margery did not understand a word more of this than the bare fact
+that Mrs. Peach suspected her to be the Baron's undowered widow, and
+such was the milkmaid's nature that she did not deny the widow's
+impeachment.  The latter continued -
+
+'But ah, ma'am, all your troubles are straight backward in your
+memory--while I have troubles before as well as grief behind.'
+
+'What may they be, Mrs. Peach?' inquired Margery with an air of the
+Baroness.
+
+The other dropped her voice to revelation tones:  'I have been
+forgetful enough of my first man to lose my heart to a second!'
+
+'You shouldn't do that--it is wrong.  You should control your
+feelings.'
+
+'But how am I to control my feelings?'
+
+'By going to your dead husband's grave, and things of that sort.'
+
+'Do you go to your dead husband's grave?'
+
+'How can I go to Algiers?'
+
+'Ah--too true!  Well, I've tried everything to cure myself--read the
+words against it, gone to the Table the first Sunday of every month,
+and all sorts.  But, avast, my shipmate!--as my poor man used to say-
+-there 'tis just the same.  In short, I've made up my mind to
+encourage the new one.  'Tis flattering that I, a new-comer, should
+have been found out by a young man so soon.'
+
+'Who is he?' said Margery listlessly.
+
+'A master lime-burner.'
+
+'A master lime-burner?'
+
+'That's his profession.  He's a partner-in-co., doing very well
+indeed.'
+
+'But what's his name?'
+
+'I don't like to tell you his name, for, though 'tis night, that
+covers all shame-facedness, my face is as hot as a 'Talian iron, I
+declare!  Do you just feel it.'
+
+Margery put her hand on Mrs. Peach's face, and, sure enough, hot it
+was.  'Does he come courting?' she asked quickly.
+
+'Well only in the way of business.  He never comes unless lime is
+wanted in the neighbourhood.  He's in the Yeomanry, too, and will
+look very fine when he comes out in regimentals for drill in May.'
+
+'Oh--in the Yeomanry,' Margery said, with a slight relief.  'Then it
+can't--is he a young man?'
+
+'Yes, junior partner-in-co.'
+
+The description had an odd resemblance to Jim, of whom Margery had
+not heard a word for months.  He had promised silence and absence,
+and had fulfilled his promise literally, with a gratuitous addition
+that was rather amazing, if indeed it were Jim whom the widow loved.
+One point in the description puzzled Margery:  Jim was not in the
+Yeomanry, unless, by a surprising development of enterprise, he had
+entered it recently.
+
+At parting Margery said, with an interest quite tender, 'I should
+like to see you again, Mrs. Peach, and hear of your attachment.  When
+can you call?'
+
+'Oh--any time, dear Baroness, I'm sure--if you think I am good
+enough.'
+
+'Indeed, I do, Mrs. Peach.  Come as soon as you've seen the lime-
+burner again.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+
+Seeing that Jim lived several miles from the widow, Margery was
+rather surprised, and even felt a slight sinking of the heart, when
+her new acquaintance appeared at her door so soon as the evening of
+the following Monday.  She asked Margery to walk out with her, which
+the young woman readily did.
+
+'I am come at once,' said the widow breathlessly, as soon as they
+were in the lane, 'for it is so exciting that I can't keep it.  I
+must tell it to somebody, if only a bird, or a cat, or a garden
+snail.'
+
+'What is it?' asked her companion.
+
+'I've pulled grass from my husband's grave to cure it--wove the
+blades into true lover's knots; took off my shoes upon the sod; but,
+avast, my shipmate,--'
+
+'Upon the sod--why?'
+
+'To feel the damp earth he's in, and make the sense of it enter my
+soul.  But no.  It has swelled to a head; he is going to meet me at
+the Yeomanry Review.'
+
+'The master lime-burner?'
+
+The widow nodded.
+
+'When is it to be?'
+
+'To-morrow.  He looks so lovely in his accoutrements!  He's such a
+splendid soldier; that was the last straw that kindled my soul to say
+yes.  He's home from Exonbury for a night between the drills,'
+continued Mrs. Peach.  'He goes back to-morrow morning for the
+Review, and when it's over he's going to meet me.  But, guide my
+heart, there he is!'
+
+Her exclamation had rise in the sudden appearance of a brilliant red
+uniform through the trees, and the tramp of a horse carrying the
+wearer thereof.  In another half-minute the military gentleman would
+have turned the corner, and faced them.
+
+'He'd better not see me; he'll think I know too much,' said Margery
+precipitately.  'I'll go up here.'
+
+The widow, whose thoughts had been of the same cast, seemed much
+relieved to see Margery disappear in the plantation, in the midst of
+a spring chorus of birds.  Once among the trees, Margery turned her
+head, and, before she could see the rider's person she recognized the
+horse as Tony, the lightest of three that Jim and his partner owned,
+for the purpose of carting out lime to their customers.
+
+Jim, then, had joined the Yeomanry since his estrangement from
+Margery.  A man who had worn the young Queen Victoria's uniform for
+seven days only could not be expected to look as if it were part of
+his person, in the manner of long-trained soldiers; but he was a
+well-formed young fellow, and of an age when few positions came amiss
+to one who has the capacity to adapt himself to circumstances.
+
+Meeting the blushing Mrs. Peach (to whom Margery in her mind sternly
+denied the right to blush at all), Jim alighted and moved on with
+her, probably at Mrs. Peach's own suggestion; so that what they said,
+how long they remained together, and how they parted, Margery knew
+not.  She might have known some of these things by waiting; but the
+presence of Jim had bred in her heart a sudden disgust for the widow,
+and a general sense of discomfiture.  She went away in an opposite
+direction, turning her head and saying to the unconscious Jim,
+'There's a fine rod in pickle for you, my gentleman, if you carry out
+that pretty scheme!'
+
+Jim's military coup had decidedly astonished her.   What he might do
+next she could not conjecture.  The idea of his doing anything
+sufficiently brilliant to arrest her attention would have seemed
+ludicrous, had not Jim, by entering the Yeomanry, revealed a capacity
+for dazzling exploits which made it unsafe to predict any limitation
+to his powers.
+
+Margery was now excited.  The daring of the wretched Jim in bursting
+into scarlet amazed her as much as his doubtful acquaintanceship with
+the demonstrative Mrs. Peach.  To go to that Review, to watch the
+pair, to eclipse Mrs. Peach in brilliancy, to meet and pass them in
+withering contempt--if she only could do it!  But, alas! she was a
+forsaken woman.
+
+'If the Baron were alive, or in England,' she said to herself (for
+sometimes she thought he might possibly be alive), 'and he were to
+take me to this Review, wouldn't I show that forward Mrs. Peach what
+a lady is like, and keep among the select company, and not mix with
+the common people at all!'
+
+It might at first sight be thought that the best course for Margery
+at this juncture would have been to go to Jim, and nip the intrigue
+in the bud without further scruple.  But her own declaration in after
+days was that whoever could say that was far from realizing her
+situation.  It was hard to break such ice as divided their two lives
+now, and to attempt it at that moment was a too humiliating
+proclamation of defeat.  The only plan she could think of--perhaps
+not a wise one in the circumstances--was to go to the Review herself;
+and be the gayest there.
+
+A method of doing this with some propriety soon occurred to her.  She
+dared not ask her father, who scorned to waste time in sight-seeing,
+and whose animosity towards Jim knew no abatement; but she might call
+on her old acquaintance, Mr. Vine, Jim's partner, who would probably
+be going with the rest of the holiday-folk, and ask if she might
+accompany him in his spring-trap.  She had no sooner perceived the
+feasibility of this, through her being at her grandmother's, than she
+decided to meet with the old man early the next morning.
+
+In the meantime Jim and Mrs. Peach had walked slowly along the road
+together, Jim leading the horse, and Mrs. Peach informing him that
+her father, the gardener, was at Jim's village further on, and that
+she had come to meet him.  Jim, for reasons of his own, was going to
+sleep at his partner's that night, and thus their route was the same.
+The shades of eve closed in upon them as they walked, and by the time
+they reached the lime-kiln, which it was necessary to pass to get to
+the village, it was quite dark.  Jim stopped at the kiln, to see if
+matters had progressed rightly in his seven days' absence, and Mrs.
+Peach, who stuck to him like a teazle, stopped also, saying she would
+wait for her father there.
+
+She held the horse while he ascended to the top of the kiln.  Then
+rejoining her, and not quite knowing what to do, he stood beside her
+looking at the flames, which to-night burnt up brightly, shining a
+long way into the dark air, even up to the ramparts of the earthwork
+above them, and overhead into the bosoms of the clouds.
+
+It was during this proceeding that a carriage, drawn by a pair of
+dark horses, came along the turnpike road.  The light of the kiln
+caused the horses to swerve a little, and the occupant of the
+carriage looked out.  He saw the bluish, lightning-like flames from
+the limestone, rising from the top of the furnace, and hard by the
+figures of Jim Hayward, the widow, and the horse, standing out with
+spectral distinctness against the mass of night behind.  The scene
+wore the aspect of some unholy assignation in Pandaemonium, and it
+was all the more impressive from the fact that both Jim and the woman
+were quite unconscious of the striking spectacle they presented.  The
+gentleman in the carriage watched them till he was borne out of
+sight.
+
+Having seen to the kiln, Jim and the widow walked on again, and soon
+Mrs. Peach's father met them, and relieved Jim of the lady.  When
+they had parted, Jim, with an expiration not unlike a breath of
+relief; went on to Mr. Vine's, and, having put the horse into the
+stable, entered the house.  His partner was seated at the table,
+solacing himself after the labours of the day by luxurious
+alternations between a long clay pipe and a mug of perry.
+
+'Well,' said Jim eagerly, 'what's the news--how do she take it?'
+
+'Sit down--sit down,' said Vine.  ''Tis working well; not but that I
+deserve something o' thee for the trouble I've had in watching her.
+The soldiering was a fine move; but the woman is a better!--who
+invented it?'
+
+'I myself,' said Jim modestly.
+
+'Well; jealousy is making her rise like a thunderstorm, and in a day
+or two you'll have her for the asking, my sonny.  What's the next
+step?'
+
+'The widow is getting rather a weight upon a feller, worse luck,'
+said Jim.  'But I must keep it up until to-morrow, at any rate.  I
+have promised to see her at the Review, and now the great thing is
+that Margery should see we a-smiling together--I in my full-dress
+uniform and clinking arms o' war.  'Twill be a good strong sting, and
+will end the business, I hope.  Couldn't you manage to put the hoss
+in and drive her there?  She'd go if you were to ask her.'
+
+'With all my heart,' said Mr. Vine, moistening the end of a new pipe
+in his perry.  'I can call at her grammer's for her--'twill be all in
+my way.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+
+Margery duly followed up her intention by arraying herself the next
+morning in her loveliest guise, and keeping watch for Mr. Vine's
+appearance upon the high road, feeling certain that his would form
+one in the procession of carts and carriages which set in towards
+Exonbury that day.  Jim had gone by at a very early hour, and she did
+not see him pass.  Her anticipation was verified by the advent of Mr.
+Vine about eleven o'clock, dressed to his highest effort; but Margery
+was surprised to find that, instead of her having to stop him, he
+pulled in towards the gate of his own accord.  The invitation planned
+between Jim and the old man on the previous night was now promptly
+given, and, as may be supposed, as promptly accepted.  Such a strange
+coincidence she had never before known.  She was quite ready, and
+they drove onward at once.
+
+The Review was held on some high ground a little way out of the city,
+and her conductor suggested that they should put up the horse at the
+inn, and walk to the field--a plan which pleased her well, for it was
+more easy to take preliminary observations on foot without being seen
+herself than when sitting elevated in a vehicle.
+
+They were just in time to secure a good place near the front, and in
+a few minutes after their arrival the reviewing officer came on the
+ground.  Margery's eye had rapidly run over the troop in which Jim
+was enrolled, and she discerned him in one of the ranks, looking
+remarkably new and bright, both as to uniform and countenance.
+Indeed, if she had not worked herself into such a desperate state of
+mind she would have felt proud of him then and there.  His shapely
+upright figure was quite noteworthy in the row of rotund yeomen on
+his right and left; while his charger Tony expressed by his bearing,
+even more than Jim, that he knew nothing about lime-carts whatever,
+and everything about trumpets and glory.  How Jim could have scrubbed
+Tony to such shining blackness she could not tell, for the horse in
+his natural state was ingrained with lime-dust, that burnt the colour
+out of his coat as it did out of Jim's hair.  Now he pranced
+martially, and was a war-horse every inch of him.
+
+Having discovered Jim her next search was for Mrs. Peach, and, by
+dint of some oblique glancing Margery indignantly discovered the
+widow in the most forward place of all, her head and bright face
+conspicuously advanced; and, what was more shocking, she had
+abandoned her mourning for a violet drawn-bonnet and a gay spencer,
+together with a parasol luxuriously fringed in a way Margery had
+never before seen.  'Where did she get the money?' said Margery,
+under her breath.  'And to forget that poor sailor so soon!'
+
+These general reflections were precipitately postponed by her
+discovering that Jim and the widow were perfectly alive to each
+other's whereabouts, and in the interchange of telegraphic signs of
+affection, which on the latter's part took the form of a playful
+fluttering of her handkerchief or waving of her parasol.  Richard
+Vine had placed Margery in front of him, to protect her from the
+crowd, as he said, he himself surveying the scene over her bonnet.
+Margery would have been even more surprised than she was if she had
+known that Jim was not only aware of Mrs. Peach's presence, but also
+of her own, the treacherous Mr. Vine having drawn out his flame-
+coloured handkerchief and waved it to Jim over the young woman's head
+as soon as they had taken up their position.
+
+'My partner makes a tidy soldier, eh--Miss Tucker?' said the senior
+lime-burner.  'It is my belief as a Christian that he's got a party
+here that he's making signs to--that handsome figure o' fun straight
+over-right him.'
+
+'Perhaps so,' she said.
+
+'And it's growing warm between 'em if I don't mistake,' continued the
+merciless Vine.
+
+Margery was silent, biting her lip; and the troops being now set in
+motion, all signalling ceased for the present between soldier Hayward
+and his pretended sweetheart.
+
+'Have you a piece of paper that I could make a memorandum on, Mr.
+Vine?' asked Margery.
+
+Vine took out his pocket-book and tore a leaf from it, which he
+handed her with a pencil.
+
+'Don't move from here--I'll return in a minute,' she continued, with
+the innocence of a woman who means mischief.  And, withdrawing
+herself to the back, where the grass was clear, she pencilled down
+the words
+
+
+'JIM'S MARRIED.'
+
+
+Armed with this document she crept into the throng behind the
+unsuspecting Mrs. Peach, slipped the paper into her pocket on the top
+of her handkerchief; and withdrew unobserved, rejoining Mr. Vine with
+a bearing of nonchalance.
+
+By-and-by the troops were in different order, Jim taking a left-hand
+position almost close to Mrs. Peach.  He bent down and said a few
+words to her.  From her manner of nodding assent it was surely some
+arrangement about a meeting by-and-by when Jim's drill was over, and
+Margery was more certain of the fact when, the Review having ended,
+and the people having strolled off to another part of the field where
+sports were to take place, Mrs. Peach tripped away in the direction
+of the city.
+
+'I'll just say a word to my partner afore he goes off the ground, if
+you'll spare me a minute,' said the old lime-burner.  'Please stay
+here till I'm back again.'  He edged along the front till he reached
+Jim.
+
+'How is she?' said the latter.
+
+'In a trimming sweat,' said Mr. Vine.  'And my counsel to 'ee is to
+carry this larry no further.  'Twill do no good.  She's as ready to
+make friends with 'ee as any wife can be; and more showing off can
+only do harm.'
+
+'But I must finish off with a spurt,' said Jim.  'And this is how I
+am going to do it.  I have arranged with Mrs. Peach that, as soon as
+we soldiers have entered the town and been dismissed, I'll meet her
+there.  It is really to say good-bye, but she don't know that; and I
+wanted it to look like a lopement to Margery's eyes.  When I'm clear
+of Mrs. Peach I'll come back here and make it up with Margery on the
+spot.  But don't say I'm coming, or she may be inclined to throw off
+again.  Just hint to her that I may be meaning to be off to London
+with the widow.'
+
+The old man still insisted that this was going too far.
+
+'No, no, it isn't,' said Jim.  'I know how to manage her.  'Twill
+just mellow her heart nicely by the time I come back.  I must bring
+her down real tender, or 'twill all fail.'
+
+His senior reluctantly gave in and returned to Margery.  A short time
+afterwards the Yeomanry hand struck up, and Jim with the regiment
+followed towards Exonbury.
+
+'Yes, yes; they are going to meet,' said Margery to herself,
+perceiving that Mrs. Peach had so timed her departure as to be in the
+town at Jim's dismounting.
+
+'Now we will go and see the games,' said Mr. Vine; 'they are really
+worth seeing.  There's greasy poles, and jumping in sacks, and other
+trials of the intellect, that nobody ought to miss who wants to be
+abreast of his generation.'
+
+Margery felt so indignant at the apparent assignation, which seemed
+about to take place despite her anonymous writing, that she
+helplessly assented to go anywhere, dropping behind Vine, that he
+might not see her mood.
+
+Jim followed out his programme with literal exactness.  No sooner was
+the troop dismissed in the city than he sent Tony to stable and
+joined Mrs. Peach, who stood on the edge of the pavement expecting
+him.  But this acquaintance was to end:  he meant to part from her
+for ever and in the quickest time, though civilly; for it was
+important to be with Margery as soon as possible.  He had nearly
+completed the manoeuvre to his satisfaction when, in drawing her
+handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the tears from her eyes, Mrs.
+Peach's hand grasped the paper, which she read at once.
+
+'What! is that true?' she said, holding it out to Jim.
+
+Jim started and admitted that it was, beginning an elaborate
+explanation and apologies.  But Mrs. Peach was thoroughly roused, and
+then overcome.  'He's married, he's married!' she said, and swooned,
+or feigned to swoon, so that Jim was obliged to support her.
+
+'He's married, he's married!' said a boy hard by who watched the
+scene with interest.
+
+'He's married, he's married!' said a hilarious group of other boys
+near, with smiles several inches broad, and shining teeth; and so the
+exclamation echoed down the street.
+
+Jim cursed his ill-luck; the loss of time that this dilemma entailed
+grew serious; for Mrs. Peach was now in such a hysterical state that
+he could not leave her with any good grace or feeling.  It was
+necessary to take her to a refreshment room, lavish restoratives upon
+her, and altogether to waste nearly half an hour.  When she had kept
+him as long as she chose, she forgave him; and thus at last he got
+away, his heart swelling with tenderness towards Margery.  He at once
+hurried up the street to effect the reconciliation with her.
+
+'How shall I do it?' he said to himself.  'Why, I'll step round to
+her side, fish for her hand, draw it through my arm as if I wasn't
+aware of it.  Then she'll look in my face, I shall look in hers, and
+we shall march off the field triumphant, and the thing will be done
+without takings or tears.'
+
+He entered the field and went straight as an arrow to the place
+appointed for the meeting.  It was at the back of a refreshment tent
+outside the mass of spectators, and divided from their view by the
+tent itself.  He turned the corner of the canvas, and there beheld
+Vine at the indicated spot.  But Margery was not with him.
+
+Vine's hat was thrust back into his poll.  His face was pale, and his
+manner bewildered.  'Hullo? what's the matter?' said Jim.  'Where's
+my Margery?'
+
+'You've carried this footy game too far, my man!' exclaimed Vine,
+with the air of a friend who has 'always told you so.'  'You ought to
+have dropped it several days ago, when she would have come to 'ee
+like a cooing dove.  Now this is the end o't!'
+
+'Hey! what, my Margery?  Has anything happened, for God's sake?'
+
+'She's gone.'
+
+'Where to?'
+
+'That's more than earthly man can tell!  I never see such a thing!
+'Twas a stroke o' the black art--as if she were sperrited away.  When
+we got to the games I said--mind, you told me to!--I said, "Jim
+Hayward thinks o' going off to London with that widow woman"--mind
+you told me to!  She showed no wonderment, though a' seemed very low.
+Then she said to me, "I don't like standing here in this slummocky
+crowd.  I shall feel more at home among the gentlepeople."  And then
+she went to where the carriages were drawn up, and near her there was
+a grand coach, a-blazing with lions and unicorns, and hauled by two
+coal-black horses.  I hardly thought much of it then, and by degrees
+lost sight of her behind it.  Presently the other carriages moved
+off, and I thought still to see her standing there.  But no, she had
+vanished; and then I saw the grand coach rolling away, and glimpsed
+Margery in it, beside a fine dark gentleman with black mustachios,
+and a very pale prince-like face.  As soon as the horses got into the
+hard road they rattled on like hell-and-skimmer, and went out of
+sight in the dust, and--that's all.  If you'd come back a little
+sooner you'd ha' caught her.'
+
+Jim had turned whiter than his pipeclay.  'O, this is too bad--too
+bad!' he cried in anguish, striking his brow.  'That paper and that
+fainting woman kept me so long.  Who could have done it?  But 'tis my
+fault.  I've stung her too much.  I shouldn't have carried it so
+far.'
+
+'You shouldn't--just what I said,' replied his senior.
+
+'She thinks I've gone off with that cust widow; and to spite me she's
+gone off with the man!  Do you know who that stranger wi' the lions
+and unicorns is?  Why, 'tis that foreigner who calls himself a Baron,
+and took Mount Lodge for six months last year to make mischief--a
+villain!  O, my Margery--that it should come to this!  She's lost,
+she's ruined!--Which way did they go?'
+
+Jim turned to follow in the direction indicated, when, behold, there
+stood at his back her father, Dairyman Tucker.
+
+'Now look here, young man,' said Dairyman Tucker.  'I've just heard
+all that wailing--and straightway will ask 'ee to stop it sharp.
+'Tis like your brazen impudence to teave and wail when you be another
+woman's husband; yes, faith, I see'd her a-fainting in yer arms when
+you wanted to get away from her, and honest folk a-standing round who
+knew you'd married her, and said so.  I heard it, though you didn't
+see me.  "He's married!" says they.  Some sly register-office
+business, no doubt; but sly doings will out.  As for Margery--who's
+to be called higher titles in these parts hencefor'ard--I'm her
+father, and I say it's all right what she's done.  Don't I know
+private news, hey?  Haven't I just learnt that secret weddings of
+high people can happen at expected deathbeds by special licence, as
+well as low people at registrars' offices?  And can't husbands come
+back and claim their own when they choose?  Begone, young man, and
+leave noblemen's wives alone; and I thank God I shall be rid of a
+numskull!'
+
+Swift words of explanation rose to Jim's lips, but they paused there
+and died.  At that last moment he could not, as Margery's husband,
+announce Margery's shame and his own, and transform her father's
+triumph to wretchedness at a blow.
+
+'I--I--must leave here,' he stammered.  Going from the place in an
+opposite course to that of the fugitives, he doubled when out of
+sight, and in an incredibly short space had entered the town.  Here
+he made inquiries for the emblazoned carriage, and gained from one or
+two persons a general idea of its route.  They thought it had taken
+the highway to London.  Saddling poor Tony before he had half eaten
+his corn, Jim galloped along the same road.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+
+Now Jim was quite mistaken in supposing that by leaving the field in
+a roundabout manner he had deceived Dairyman Tucker as to his object.
+That astute old man immediately divined that Jim was meaning to track
+the fugitives, in ignorance (as the dairyman supposed) of their
+lawful relation.  He was soon assured of the fact, for, creeping to a
+remote angle of the field, he saw Jim hastening into the town.
+Vowing vengeance on the young lime-burner for his mischievous
+interference between a nobleman and his secretly-wedded wife, the
+dairy-farmer determined to balk him.
+
+Tucker had ridden on to the Review ground, so that there was no
+necessity for him, as there had been for poor Jim, to re-enter the
+town before starting.  The dairyman hastily untied his mare from the
+row of other horses, mounted, and descended to a bridle-path which
+would take him obliquely into the London road a mile or so ahead.
+The old man's route being along one side of an equilateral triangle,
+while Jim's was along two sides of the same, the former was at the
+point of intersection long before Hayward.
+
+Arrived here, the dairyman pulled up and looked around.  It was a
+spot at which the highway forked; the left arm, the more important,
+led on through Sherton Abbas and Melchester to London; the right to
+Idmouth and the coast.  Nothing was visible on the white track to
+London; but on the other there appeared the back of a carriage, which
+rapidly ascended a distant hill and vanished under the trees.  It was
+the Baron's who, according to the sworn information of the gardener
+at Mount Lodge, had made Margery his wife.
+
+The carriage having vanished, the dairyman gazed in the opposite
+direction, towards Exonbury.  Here he beheld Jim in his regimentals,
+laboriously approaching on Tony's back.
+
+Soon he reached the forking roads, and saw the dairyman by the
+wayside.  But Jim did not halt.  Then the dairyman practised the
+greatest duplicity of his life.
+
+'Right along the London road, if you want to catch 'em!' he said.
+
+'Thank 'ee, dairyman, thank 'ee!' cried Jim, his pale face lighting
+up with gratitude, for he believed that Tucker had learnt his mistake
+from Vine, and had come to his assistance.  Without drawing rein he
+diminished along the road not taken by the flying pair.  The dairyman
+rubbed his hands with delight, and returned to the city as the
+cathedral clock struck five.
+
+Jim pursued his way through the dust, up hill and down hill; but
+never saw ahead of him the vehicle of his search.  That vehicle was
+passing along a diverging way at a distance of many miles from where
+he rode.  Still he sped onwards, till Tony showed signs of breaking
+down; and then Jim gathered from inquiries he made that he had come
+the wrong way.  It burst upon his mind that the dairyman, still
+ignorant of the truth, had misinformed him.  Heavier in his heart
+than words can describe he turned Tony's drooping head, and resolved
+to drag his way home.
+
+But the horse was now so jaded that it was impossible to proceed far.
+Having gone about half a mile back he came again to a small roadside
+hamlet and inn, where he put up Tony for a rest and feed.  As for
+himself, there was no quiet in him.  He tried to sit and eat in the
+inn kitchen; but he could not stay there.  He went out, and paced up
+and down the road.
+
+Standing in sight of the white way by which he had come he beheld
+advancing towards him the horses and carriage he sought, now black
+and daemonic against the slanting fires of the western sun.
+
+The why and wherefore of this sudden appearance he did not pause to
+consider.  His resolve to intercept the carriage was instantaneous.
+He ran forward, and doggedly waiting barred the way to the advancing
+equipage.
+
+The Baron's coachman shouted, but Jim stood firm as a rock, and on
+the former attempting to push past him Jim drew his sword, resolving
+to cut the horses down rather than be displaced.  The animals were
+thrown nearly back upon their haunches, and at this juncture a
+gentleman looked out of the window.  It was the Baron himself.
+
+'Who's there?' he inquired.
+
+'James Hayward!' replied the young man fiercely, 'and he demands his
+wife.'
+
+The Baron leapt out, and told the coachman to drive back out of sight
+and wait for him.
+
+'I was hastening to find you,' he said to Jim.  'Your wife is where
+she ought to be, and where you ought to be also--by your own
+fireside.  Where's the other woman?'
+
+Jim, without replying, looked incredulously into the carriage as it
+turned.  Margery was certainly not there.  'The other woman is
+nothing to me,' he said bitterly.  'I used her to warm up Margery:  I
+have now done with her.  The question I ask, my lord, is, what
+business had you with Margery to-day?'
+
+'My business was to help her to regain the husband she had seemingly
+lost.  I saw her; she told me you had eloped by the London road with
+another.  I, who have--mostly--had her happiness at heart, told her I
+would help her to follow you if she wished.  She gladly agreed; we
+drove after, but could hear no tidings of you in front of us.  Then I
+took her--to your house--and there she awaits you.  I promised to
+send you to her if human effort could do it, and was tracking you for
+that purpose.'
+
+'Then you've been a-pursuing after me?'
+
+'You and the widow.'
+
+'And I've been pursuing after you and Margery!  My noble lord, your
+actions seem to show that I ought to believe you in this; and when
+you say you've her happiness at heart, I don't forget that you've
+formerly proved it to be so.  Well, Heaven forbid that I should think
+wrongfully of you if you don't deserve it!  A mystery to me you have
+always been, my noble lord, and in this business more than in any.'
+
+'I am glad to hear you say no worse.  In one hour you'll have proof
+of my conduct--good and bad.  Can I do anything more?  Say the word,
+and I'll try.'
+
+Jim reflected.  'Baron,' he said, 'I am a plain man, and wish only to
+lead a quiet life with my wife, as a man should.  You have great
+power over her--power to any extent, for good or otherwise.  If you
+command her anything on earth, righteous or questionable, that she'll
+do.  So that, since you ask me if you can do more for me, I'll answer
+this, you can promise never to see her again.  I mean no harm, my
+lord; but your presence can do no good; you will trouble us.  If I
+return to her, will you for ever stay away?'
+
+'Hayward,' said the Baron, 'I swear to you that I will disturb you
+and your wife by my presence no more.  And he took Jim's hand, and
+pressed it within his own upon the hilt of Jim's sword.
+
+In relating this incident to the present narrator Jim used to declare
+that, to his fancy, the ruddy light of the setting sun burned with
+more than earthly fire on the Baron's face as the words were spoken;
+and that the ruby flash of his eye in the same light was what he
+never witnessed before nor since in the eye of mortal man.  After
+this there was nothing more to do or say in that place.  Jim
+accompanied his never-to-be-forgotten acquaintance to the carriage,
+closed the door after him, waved his hat to him, and from that hour
+he and the Baron met not again on earth.
+
+A few words will suffice to explain the fortunes of Margery while the
+foregoing events were in action elsewhere.  On leaving her companion
+Vine she had gone distractedly among the carriages, the rather to
+escape his observation than of any set purpose.  Standing here she
+thought she heard her name pronounced, and turning, saw her foreign
+friend, whom she had supposed to be, if not dead, a thousand miles
+off.  He beckoned, and she went close.  'You are ill--you are
+wretched,' he said, looking keenly in her face.  'Where's your
+husband?'
+
+She told him her sad suspicion that Jim had run away from her.  The
+Baron reflected, and inquired a few other particulars of her late
+life.  Then he said:  'You and I must find him.  Come with me.'  At
+this word of command from the Baron she had entered the carriage as
+docilely as a child, and there she sat beside him till he chose to
+speak, which was not till they were some way out of the town, at the
+forking ways, and the Baron had discovered that Jim was certainly
+not, as they had supposed, making off from Margery along that
+particular branch of the fork that led to London.
+
+'To pursue him in this way is useless, I perceive,' he said.  'And
+the proper course now is that I should take you to his house.  That
+done I will return, and bring him to you if mortal persuasion can do
+it.'
+
+'I didn't want to go to his house without him, sir,' said she,
+tremblingly.
+
+'Didn't want to!' he answered.  'Let me remind you, Margery Hayward,
+that your place is in your husband's house.  Till you are there you
+have no right to criticize his conduct, however wild it may be.  Why
+have you not been there before?'
+
+'I don't know, sir,' she murmured, her tears falling silently upon
+her hand.
+
+'Don't you think you ought to be there?'
+
+She did not answer.
+
+'Of course you ought.'
+
+Still she did not speak.
+
+The Baron sank into silence, and allowed his eye to rest on her.
+What thoughts were all at once engaging his mind after those moments
+of reproof?  Margery had given herself into his hands without a
+remonstrance, her husband had apparently deserted her.  She was
+absolutely in his power, and they were on the high road.
+
+That his first impulse in inviting her to accompany him had been the
+legitimate one denoted by his words cannot reasonably be doubted.
+That his second was otherwise soon became revealed, though not at
+first to her, for she was too bewildered to notice where they were
+going.  Instead of turning and taking the road to Jim's, the Baron,
+as if influenced suddenly by her reluctance to return thither if Jim
+was playing truant, signalled to the coachman to take the branch road
+to the right, as her father had discerned.
+
+They soon approached the coast near Idmouth.  The carriage stopped.
+Margery awoke from her reverie.
+
+'Where are we?' she said, looking out of the window, with a start.
+Before her was an inlet of the sea, and in the middle of the inlet
+rode a yacht, its masts repeating as if from memory the rocking they
+had practised in their native forest.
+
+'At a little sea-side nook, where my yacht lies at anchor,' he said
+tentatively.  'Now, Margery, in five minutes we can be aboard, and in
+half an hour we can be sailing away all the world over.  Will you
+come?'
+
+'I cannot decide,' she said, in low tones.
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'Because--'
+
+Then on a sudden, Margery seemed to see all contingencies:  she
+became white as a fleece, and a bewildered look came into her eyes.
+With clasped hands she leant on the Baron.
+
+Baron von Xanten observed her distracted look, averted his face, and
+coming to a decision opened the carriage door, quickly mounted
+outside, and in a second or two the carriage left the shore behind,
+and ascended the road by which it had come.
+
+In about an hour they reached Jim Hayward's home.  The Baron
+alighted, and spoke to her through the window.  'Margery, can you
+forgive a lover's bad impulse, which I swear was unpremeditated?' he
+asked.  'If you can, shake my hand.'
+
+She did not do it, but eventually allowed him to help her out of the
+carriage.  He seemed to feel the awkwardness keenly; and seeing it,
+she said, 'Of course I forgive you, sir, for I felt for a moment as
+you did.  Will you send my husband to me?'
+
+'I will, if any man can,' said he.  'Such penance is milder than I
+deserve!  God bless you and give you happiness!  I shall never see
+you again!'  He turned, entered the carriage, and was gone; and
+having found out Jim's course, came up with him upon the road as
+described.
+
+In due time the latter reached his lodging at his partner's.  The
+woman who took care of the house in Vine's absence at once told Jim
+that a lady who had come in a carriage was waiting for him in his
+sitting-room.  Jim proceeded thither with agitation, and beheld,
+shrinkingly ensconced in the large slippery chair, and surrounded by
+the brilliant articles that had so long awaited her, his long-
+estranged wife.
+
+Margery's eyes were round and fear-stricken.  She essayed to speak,
+but Jim, strangely enough, found the readier tongue then.  'Why did I
+do it, you would ask,' he said.  'I cannot tell.  Do you forgive my
+deception?  O Margery--you are my Margery still!  But how could you
+trust yourself in the Baron's hands this afternoon, without knowing
+him better?'
+
+'He said I was to come, and I went,' she said, as well as she could
+for tearfulness.
+
+'You obeyed him blindly.'
+
+'I did.  But perhaps I was not justified in doing it.'
+
+'I don't know,' said Jim musingly.  'I think he's a good man.'
+Margery did not explain.  And then a sunnier mood succeeded her
+tremblings and tears, till old Mr. Vine came into the house below,
+and Jim went down to declare that all was well, and sent off his
+partner to break the news to Margery's father, who as yet remained
+unenlightened.
+
+The dairyman bore the intelligence of his daughter's untitled state
+as best he could, and punished her by not coming near her for several
+weeks, though at last he grumbled his forgiveness, and made up
+matters with Jim.  The handsome Mrs. Peach vanished to Plymouth, and
+found another sailor, not without a reasonable complaint against Jim
+and Margery both that she had been unfairly used.
+
+As for the mysterious gentleman who had exercised such an influence
+over their lives, he kept his word, and was a stranger to Lower
+Wessex thenceforward.  Baron or no Baron, Englishman or foreigner, he
+had shown a genuine interest in Jim, and real sorrow for a certain
+reckless phase of his acquaintance with Margery.  That he had a more
+tender feeling toward the young girl than he wished her or any one
+else to perceive there could be no doubt.  That he was strongly
+tempted at times to adopt other than conventional courses with regard
+to her is also clear, particularly at that critical hour when she
+rolled along the high road with him in the carriage, after turning
+from the fancied pursuit of Jim.  But at other times he schooled
+impassioned sentiments into fair conduct, which even erred on the
+side of harshness.  In after years there was a report that another
+attempt on his life with a pistol, during one of those fits of
+moodiness to which he seemed constitutionally liable, had been
+effectual; but nobody in Silverthorn was in a position to ascertain
+the truth.
+
+There he is still regarded as one who had something about him magical
+and unearthly.  In his mystery let him remain; for a man, no less
+than a landscape, who awakens an interest under uncertain lights and
+touches of unfathomable shade, may cut but a poor figure in a garish
+noontide shine.
+
+When she heard of his mournful death Margery sat in her nursing-
+chair, gravely thinking for nearly ten minutes, to the total neglect
+of her infant in the cradle.  Jim, from the other side of the fire-
+place, said:  'You are sorry enough for him, Margery.  I am sure of
+that.'
+
+'Yes, yes,' she murmured, 'I am sorry.'  After a moment she added:
+'Now that he's dead I'll make a confession, Jim, that I have never
+made to a soul.  If he had pressed me--which he did not--to go with
+him when I was in the carriage that night beside his yacht, I would
+have gone.  And I was disappointed that he did not press me.'
+
+'Suppose he were to suddenly appear now, and say in a voice of
+command, "Margery, come with me!"'
+
+'I believe I should have no power to disobey,' she returned, with a
+mischievous look.  'He was like a magician to me.  I think he was
+one.  He could move me as a loadstone moves a speck of steel . . .
+Yet no,' she added, hearing the infant cry, 'he would not move me
+now.  It would be so unfair to baby.'
+
+'Well,' said Jim, with no great concern (for 'la jalousie
+retrospective,' as George Sand calls it, had nearly died out of him),
+'however he might move 'ee, my love, he'll never come.  He swore it
+to me:  and he was a man of his word.'
+
+Midsummer, 1883.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid, by Hardy
+
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