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diff --git a/2996-h/2996-h.htm b/2996-h/2996-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4b0eba --- /dev/null +++ b/2996-h/2996-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4185 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid, by Thomas Hardy</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +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’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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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>‘Don’t ye bide about long upon the road, +Margery. You can be back again by skimming-time.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.’</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. 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.</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. 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.’</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘Are the shops open yet, Samuel?’ she said.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘O, the draper’s at eight.’ It was +plain that Margery had wanted the draper’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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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’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.</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. 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. 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.</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. +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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘My Gott, who are you?’ he asked sternly, and with +not altogether an English articulation. ‘What do you +do here?’</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>‘What were you doing here at this hour of the +morning?’</p> +<p>She told him, even to the fact that she had climbed over the +fence.</p> +<p>‘And what made you peep round at me?’</p> +<p>‘I saw your elbow, sir; and I wondered what you were +doing?’</p> +<p>‘And what was I doing?’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘What difference would it make to you if I were ill or +in trouble? You don’t know me.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</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>‘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!’</p> +<p>‘Why, this is only the pride of the morning!’ said +Margery. ‘By-and-by it will be a beautiful +day.’</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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!’</p> +<p>‘What from?’ she ventured to ask.</p> +<p>‘That you may never know.’</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, ‘What did you tell me +was your name, dear girl?’</p> +<p>She repeated her name.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘Nothing, sir.’</p> +<p>‘Nothing?’</p> +<p>‘Father is very well off, and we don’t want +anything.’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘Why should you be grateful to me, sir?’</p> +<p>He shook his head. ‘Some things are best left +unspoken. Now think. What would you like to have best +in the world?’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘Very well—don’t hurry yourself. Think +it over all day. I ride this afternoon. You +live—where?’</p> +<p>‘Silverthorn Dairy-house.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘I will, sir,’ said Margery, now warming up to the +idea. ‘Where shall I meet you? Or will you call +at the house, sir?’</p> +<p>‘Ah—no. I should not wish the circumstances +known out of which our acquaintance rose. It would be more +proper—but no.’</p> +<p>Margery, too, seemed rather anxious that he should not +call. ‘I could come out, sir,’ she said. +‘My father is odd-tempered, and perhaps—’</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘No, no, sir!’ she replied earnestly. +‘Why should I do that?’</p> +<p>‘You will never tell?’</p> +<p>‘Never, never will I tell what has happened here this +morning.’</p> +<p>‘Neither to your father, nor to your friends, nor to any +one?’</p> +<p>‘To no one at all,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘It is sufficient,’ he answered. ‘You +mean what you say, my dear maiden. Now you want to leave +me. Good-bye!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.’</p> +<p>In acknowledging her route Margery brought herself to ask who +the new gentleman might be.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Took the house for fishing, did he?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘And what is his name?’</p> +<p>‘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,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">‘<span class="smcap">Baron +von Xanten</span>’</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. The impending meeting excited Margery, and +she performed her duties in her father’s house with +mechanical unconsciousness.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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—<i>proh pudor</i>!—I have kept you +waiting!’</p> +<p>‘It doesn’t matter, sir. I’ve thought +of something.’</p> +<p>‘Thought of something?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘To go to the Yeomanry Ball that’s to be given +this month.’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘At Exonbury.’</p> +<p>‘Have you ever been to it before?’</p> +<p>‘No, sir.’</p> +<p>‘Or to any ball?’</p> +<p>‘No.’</p> +<p>‘But did I not say a gift—a present?’</p> +<p>‘Or a treat?’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know. I have not thought of that +yet.’</p> +<p>‘You have no friend who could take you, even if I got +you an invitation?’</p> +<p>Margery looked at the moon. ‘No one who can +dance,’ she said; adding, with hesitation, ‘I was +thinking that perhaps—’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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 <i>shall</i> go to the Yeomanry +Ball. In what building is it to be held?’</p> +<p>‘In the Assembly Rooms.’</p> +<p>‘And would you be likely to be recognized there? +Do you know many people?’</p> +<p>‘Not many, sir. None, I may say. I know +nobody who goes to balls.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘O, yes, sir; I know that, and I thought you might offer +to do it. But would you bring me back again?’</p> +<p>‘Of course I’ll bring you back. But, +by-the-bye, can <i>you</i> dance?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘What?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</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. But her +motions, though graceful, were not precisely those which appear +in the figures of a modern ball-room.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘If it is a great trouble to you, sir, +I—’</p> +<p>‘O no, no. I will think it over. So far so +good.’</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘O yes, sir—if you don’t object.’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘O no, sir. It is a ball I long to see—I +don’t know what it is like; it does not matter +where.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘How dreadful!’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘What is its name, sir?’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ he murmured, ‘what has come to pass +is strange! My whole business after this will be to recover +my right mind!’</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. 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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘I ought to have a ball-dress, ought I not, +sir?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly. And you shall have a +ball-dress.’</p> +<p>‘Really?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘And is my dancing good enough?’</p> +<p>‘Quite—quite.’ He paused, lapsed into +thought, and looked at her. ‘Margery,’ he said, +‘do you trust yourself unreservedly to me?’</p> +<p>‘O yes, sir,’ she replied brightly; ‘if I am +not too much trouble: if I am good enough to be seen in your +society.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘The next thing,’ he said, ‘is about getting +the consent of your friends to your going. Have you thought +of this?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>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—’</p> +<p>‘No, no, no,’ he said, patting her cheek. +‘We will not think of anything else. You shall +go.’</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. 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.</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. 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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘I am dressed for the ball—nothing worse,’ +he said, drily smiling. ‘So will you be +soon.’</p> +<p>‘Why did you choose this place for our meeting, +sir?’ she asked, looking around and acquiring +confidence.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘I have not yet told him, sir.’</p> +<p>‘That’s very bad of you, Margery. How have +you arranged it, then?’</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. Among them was the tree he +had spoken of—an elm; huge, hollow, distorted, and +headless, with a rift in its side.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘What am I to do, sir?’ asked the puzzled +maiden.</p> +<p>‘Go inside, and you will see. When you are ready +wave your handkerchief at that hole.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘O, sir!’ she began in despair.</p> +<p>‘What—can’t you dress yourself?’ he +inquired from the back of the trunk.</p> +<p>‘Yes; but I can’t get out of this dreadful +tree!’</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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>‘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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘You need not mind him,’ said the Baron. +‘He is a foreigner, and heeds nothing.’</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. 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.</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. 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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘No, sir.’</p> +<p>‘Are you afraid?’</p> +<p>‘N—no, sir. But it is a long way.’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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.</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>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘What is that powerful tune, sir—I have never +heard anything like it?’ she said.</p> +<p>‘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.’</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 ‘Mr. and Miss Brown.’</p> +<p>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 <i>petite</i> lady in +cream-coloured satin. ‘Who is she?’ asked +Margery of the Baron.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.</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’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.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</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. At last she realized that it was +highly-polished oak, but she was none the less afraid to +move.</p> +<p>‘I am afraid of falling down,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘Lean on me; you will soon get used to it,’ he +replied. ‘You have no nails in your shoes now, +dear.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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, ‘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.</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. 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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</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. 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.</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. +‘He watches like the Angel Gabriel, when all the world is +asleep!’ she thought.</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.</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’s +plaid.</p> +<p>Baron was not far off. ‘Now you look the milkmaid +again,’ he said, coming towards her. ‘Where is +the finery?’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘Good,’ he said. ‘I must just dispose +of it; and then away we go.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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!’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense. We shall have no further use for them +if we live a hundred years.’</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, sir,’ 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. 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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘Not at all, sir,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘I would have if you had not burnt my pretty +clothes!’ she pouted.</p> +<p>‘Ah—ungrateful!’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, then, I will promise, sir,’ she said from +her heart. ‘Wherever I am, if I have bodily strength +I will come to you.’</p> +<p>He pressed her hand. ‘It is a solemn +promise,’ he replied. ‘Now I must go, for you +know your way.’</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>‘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.’</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>‘What, have you no Christian name, sir?’ she +said.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Who is Jim?’</p> +<p>‘O, he’s nobody—only the young man +I’ve got to marry some day.’</p> +<p>‘What!—you engaged to be married?—Why +didn’t you tell me this before?’</p> +<p>‘I—I don’t know, sir.’</p> +<p>‘What is the young man’s name?’</p> +<p>‘James Hayward.’</p> +<p>‘What is he?’</p> +<p>‘A master lime-burner.’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘I thought I’d better not!’ said Margery, +beginning to be frightened.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, perhaps I can’t do that,’ she said, +with a tear in her eye, and a full throat.</p> +<p>‘Well—do your best. I can say no +more.’</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’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.</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. 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.</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. +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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘You’ve come all the way from the kiln, on purpose +to meet me, and you shouldn’t have done it,’ she +reproachfully returned.</p> +<p>‘We finished there at four, so it was no trouble; and if +it had been—why, I should ha’ come.’</p> +<p>A small sigh was the response.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>Instead of saying yes, the fair maid repressed another +sigh.</p> +<p>‘What, won’t it, then?’ he said.</p> +<p>‘I suppose so,’ she answered. ‘If it +is to be, it is.’</p> +<p>‘Well said—very well said, my dear.’</p> +<p>‘And if it isn’t to be it isn’t.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘This summer?’ she repeated, with some +dismay. ‘But the partnership? Remember it was +not to be till after that was completed.’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘But I want to get home-along,’ dear Jim, she +coaxed.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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—’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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, +‘<i>Yew</i> don’t expect to have such things, I hope; +deserve them as you may?’</p> +<p>‘I was not exactly speaking of what I wanted,’ she +said severely. ‘I said, things a woman <i>could</i> +want. And since you wish to know what I <i>can</i> want to +quite satisfy me, I assure you I can want those!’</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘You’ll come in, won’t you, Jim?’ she +said, with more ceremony than heartiness.</p> +<p>‘No—I think not to-night,’ he +answered. ‘I’ll consider what you’ve +said.’</p> +<p>‘You are very good, Jim,’ she returned +lightly. ‘Good-bye.’</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<p>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.</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. The substance of his +queries was, What change had come over Margery—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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘You might have saved yourself trouble by leaving word +at Mr. Vine’s,’ said Jim.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Couldn’t you tell him yourself?’ said +Jim.</p> +<p>‘He said I was to tell you that,’ replied the +gardener; ‘and it wasn’t for me to +interfere.’</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. 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.</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. 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’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.</p> +<p>‘And I hope trade is prosperous with you this +year,’ said the Baron.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed; I am glad to hear it. So now you are +settled in life.’</p> +<p>‘Well, my lord; I am hardly settled, even now. For +I’ve got to finish it—I mean, to get +married.’</p> +<p>‘That’s an easy matter, compared with the +partnership.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Your suit prospers, I hope?’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Any advice I can give is at your service, +Hayward. What do you wish to know?’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘Truly, that’s a hard question, my man. What +does she aspire to?’</p> +<p>‘She’s got a craze for fine furniture.’</p> +<p>‘How long has she had it?’</p> +<p>‘Only just now.’</p> +<p>The Baron seemed still more to experience regret.</p> +<p>‘What furniture does she specially covet?’ he +asked.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘You think the possession of those articles would make +her happy?’</p> +<p>‘I really think they might, my lord.’</p> +<p>‘Good. Open your pocket-book and write as I tell +you.’</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’s dictation:</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘But, my noble lord, you don’t mean that your +lordship is going to give—’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘Oh—it’s only some things of mine,’ +said Jim coolly.</p> +<p>‘Bearing upon the coming event—eh?’ said his +partner.</p> +<p>‘Exactly,’ 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. 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. 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’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>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Yes—a few things that came to me by +accident,’ said Jim in quiet tones.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘And the curtains and the looking-glasses: why I declare +I can see myself in a hundred places.’</p> +<p>‘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—’</p> +<p>‘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—’</p> +<p>Margery was unable to speak coherently, so much was she amazed +at the wealth of Jim’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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘And when is the wedding-day to be, Hayward?’ the +Baron asked, after Jim had told him that matters were +settled.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘And when is that?’</p> +<p>‘St. Swithin’s—the middle of July. +’Tis to be some time in that month, she tells +me.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘Little Margery!’ murmured the Baron.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘That shows you have been thinking of things you should +not think of,’ returned the Baron. ‘Good +morning.’</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘Away with thee—that’s only your +shyness!’ said one of the milkmaids.</p> +<p>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.</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:—</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear +Margery</span>,—</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>‘You sent for me, sir; and I was afraid you were ill; +and my promise to you was sacred.’</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>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘It was, sir,’ she said with agitation. +‘But it is so no longer. And, therefore, I cannot +take this.’</p> +<p>‘What do you say?’</p> +<p>‘It was to have been to-day; but now it cannot +be.’</p> +<p>‘The wedding to-day—Sunday?’ he cried.</p> +<p>‘We fixed Sunday not to hinder much time at this busy +season of the year,’ replied she.</p> +<p>‘And have you, then, put it off—surely +not?’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘I promised you, sir; and I would rather keep my promise +to you than be married to Jim.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>Her lips moved, but the promise was not articulated. +‘O, sir, I cannot promise it!’ she said at last.</p> +<p>‘But you must; your salvation may depend on it!’ +he insisted almost sternly. ‘You don’t know +what I am.’</p> +<p>‘Then, sir, I promise,’ she replied. +‘Now leave me to myself, please, and I’ll go indoors +and manage matters.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Why didn’t you tell us then, so that the wedding +could be put off, without making fools o’ us?’</p> +<p>‘Because I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go, and +I had made up my mind to go.’</p> +<p>‘To go where?’</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>‘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 <i>gone</i>! 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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll go away, and then you’ll be +sorry!’</p> +<p>‘Very well, go. Sorry—not I.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘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!’</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘Well, yes, there is,’ said Jim. ‘But +’tis an enormous distance for ’ee.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, yes,’ replied the musician. ‘I +wish to intercept the carrier on the highway.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>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!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘What of her?’ said Jim.</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>‘Never!’ said Jim incredulously.</p> +<p>‘But I do not mistake. I say it is so!’</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. 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?</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘How ill?’ cried Margery through the hedge, which +screened her from recognition.</p> +<p>‘Bad abed,’ said one of the watermen.</p> +<p>‘Inflammation of the lungs,’ said the other.</p> +<p>‘Got wet, fishing,’ the first chimed in.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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’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.</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Margery Tucker</span> +(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.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Von +Xanten</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<p>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!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>She whispered ‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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:</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘I will, sir,’ said Jim promptly.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘O, no, sir,’ she said, in a low, dry voice.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘And you accept him, my little friend?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, sir,’ she murmured, ‘if he’ll +agree to a thing or two.’</p> +<p>‘Doubtless he will—what are they?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Well, what do you think of it, Hayward?’</p> +<p>‘Anything that you or she may wish I’ll do, my +noble lord,’ said Jim.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, sir,’ said she, with an effort.</p> +<p>‘Good; I thought so; you looked so little +surprised.’</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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’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?’</p> +<p>‘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. +<i>There’s been a wedding at the Lodge +to-night</i>!’ He related to her, with a caution to +secrecy, all that he had heard and seen.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. ‘Good morning, Margery,’ he said +civilly.</p> +<p>‘Good morning,’ said Margery in the same tone.</p> +<p>‘I beg your pardon,’ he continued. +‘But which way was you going this morning?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Trew—trew. Well, as I am going the same +way, I can give you a lift in the trap, for the distance is +long.’</p> +<p>‘No thank you—I am used to walking,’ she +said.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Certainly,’ said Jim. ‘I don’t +want to trouble you. As for that, why, my dear Mrs. +Hayward—’</p> +<p>‘Don’t Mrs. Hayward me!’ said Margery +sharply. ‘I won’t be Mrs. Hayward!’</p> +<p>Jim paused. ‘Well, you are she by law, and that +was all I meant,’ he said mildly.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>Instead of directly replying, Margery exclaimed in a low +voice:</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>‘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—’</p> +<p>‘What, did he give you that?’</p> +<p>‘Ay sure—to help me win ye.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.’</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘What—is that thee?’ said Dairyman Tucker, +in a voice which unmistakably startled Jim by its abrupt +fierceness. ‘A pretty fellow thou +be’st!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘What’s the matter?’ said Jim.</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>‘Faith, I don’t know what you are raving +at,’ said Jim.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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>‘Surely father has been speaking roughly to you!’ +she said, on seeing his face.</p> +<p>‘Not the least doubt that he have,’ said Jim.</p> +<p>‘But is he still angry with me?’</p> +<p>‘Not in the least. He’s waiting to welcome +’ee.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! because I’ve married you.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>‘True, but I’ll tell you what, mistress—I +won’t stand—’ He stopped suddenly. +‘Well, well; I’ve promised!’ he quietly +added.</p> +<p>‘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.’</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. And seeing her father’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. +She had suffered a mental and emotional displacement—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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know, sir,’ said she.</p> +<p>‘What—and are your stipulations about secrecy and +separate living still in force?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘H’m. Then ’tis Miss Tucker to the +world; Mrs. Hayward to me and one or two others only?’</p> +<p>Margery nodded. Then she nerved herself by an effort, +and, though blushing painfully, asked, ‘May I put one +question, sir? Is the Baron dead?’</p> +<p>‘He is dead to you and to all of us. Why should +you ask?’</p> +<p>‘Because, if he’s alive, I am sorry I married +James Hayward. If he is dead I do not much mind my +marriage.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</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). 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘Widows—yes, I suppose; but what do you +mean?’</p> +<p>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.’</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’s +undowered widow, and such was the milkmaid’s nature that +she did not deny the widow’s impeachment. The latter +continued—</p> +<p>‘But ah, ma’am, all your troubles are straight +backward in your memory—while I have troubles before as +well as grief behind.’</p> +<p>‘What may they be, Mrs. Peach?’ inquired Margery +with an air of the Baroness.</p> +<p>The other dropped her voice to revelation tones: ‘I have +been forgetful enough of my first man to lose my heart to a +second!’</p> +<p>‘You shouldn’t do that—it is wrong. +You should control your feelings.’</p> +<p>‘But how am I to control my feelings?’</p> +<p>‘By going to your dead husband’s grave, and things +of that sort.’</p> +<p>‘Do you go to your dead husband’s +grave?’</p> +<p>‘How can I go to Algiers?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Who is he?’ said Margery listlessly.</p> +<p>‘A master lime-burner.’</p> +<p>‘A master lime-burner?’</p> +<p>‘That’s his profession. He’s a +partner-in-co., doing very well indeed.’</p> +<p>‘But what’s his name?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>Margery put her hand on Mrs. Peach’s face, and, sure +enough, hot it was. ‘Does he come courting?’ +she asked quickly.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Oh—in the Yeomanry,’ Margery said, with a +slight relief. ‘Then it can’t—is he a +young man?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, junior partner-in-co.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘Oh—any time, dear Baroness, I’m +sure—if you think I am good enough.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I do, Mrs. Peach. Come as soon as +you’ve seen the lime-burner again.’</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. She asked Margery to +walk out with her, which the young woman readily did.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘What is it?’ asked her companion.</p> +<p>‘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,—’</p> +<p>‘Upon the sod—why?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘The master lime-burner?’</p> +<p>The widow nodded.</p> +<p>‘When is it to be?’</p> +<p>‘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!’</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. In another half-minute the +military gentleman would have turned the corner, and faced +them.</p> +<p>‘He’d better not see me; he’ll think I know +too much,’ said Margery precipitately. +‘I’ll go up here.’</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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!’</p> +<p>Jim’s military <i>coup</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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!’</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Jim eagerly, ‘what’s the +news—how do she take it?’</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘I myself,’ said Jim modestly.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</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’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.</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—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. 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.</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. ‘Where did she get the +money?’ said Margery, under her breath. ‘And to +forget that poor sailor so soon!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps so,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘And it’s growing warm between ’em if I +don’t mistake,’ 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>‘Have you a piece of paper that I could make a +memorandum on, Mr. Vine?’ 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>‘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</p> +<p style="text-align: center">‘<span +class="smcap">Jim’s Married</span>.’</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘How is she?’ said the latter.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>The old man still insisted that this was going too far.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</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. +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.</p> +<p>‘What! is that true?’ she said, holding it out to +Jim.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘He’s married, he’s married!’ said a +boy hard by who watched the scene with interest.</p> +<p>‘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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>‘Hey! what, my Margery? Has anything happened, for +God’s sake?’</p> +<p>‘She’s gone.’</p> +<p>‘Where to?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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.’</p> +<p>‘You shouldn’t—just what I said,’ +replied his senior.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>Jim turned to follow in the direction indicated, when, behold, +there stood at his back her father, Dairyman Tucker.</p> +<p>‘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!’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘Right along the London road, if you want to catch +’em!’ he said.</p> +<p>‘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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. His resolve to intercept the carriage +was instantaneous. He ran forward, and doggedly waiting +barred the way to the advancing equipage.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘Who’s there?’ he inquired.</p> +<p>‘James Hayward!’ replied the young man fiercely, +‘and he demands his wife.’</p> +<p>The Baron leapt out, and told the coachman to drive back out +of sight and wait for him.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Then you’ve been a-pursuing after me?’</p> +<p>‘You and the widow.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘I didn’t want to go to his house without him, +sir,’ said she, tremblingly.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know, sir,’ she murmured, her tears +falling silently upon her hand.</p> +<p>‘Don’t you think you ought to be there?’</p> +<p>She did not answer.</p> +<p>‘Of course you ought.’</p> +<p>Still she did not speak.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>They soon approached the coast near Idmouth. The +carriage stopped. Margery awoke from her reverie.</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>‘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?’</p> +<p>‘I cannot decide,’ she said, in low tones.</p> +<p>‘Why not?’</p> +<p>‘Because—’</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. 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’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.’</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?’</p> +<p>‘He said I was to come, and I went,’ she said, as +well as she could for tearfulness.</p> +<p>‘You obeyed him blindly.’</p> +<p>‘I did. But perhaps I was not justified in doing +it.’</p> +<p>‘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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. Jim, from the +other side of the fire-place, said: ‘You are sorry enough +for him, Margery. I am sure of that.’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Suppose he were to suddenly appear now, and say in a +voice of command, “Margery, come with me!”’</p> +<p>‘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.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Jim, with no great concern (for +‘<i>la jalousie rétrospective</i>,’ 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.’</p> +<p><i>Midsummer</i>, 1883.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMANTIC ADVENTURES OF A +MILKMAID***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 2996-h.htm or 2996-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/9/9/9/9/2996 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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