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diff --git a/3159-h/3159-h.htm b/3159-h/3159-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9223d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/3159-h/3159-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16836 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!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" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Hermit of Far End, by Margaret Pedler + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hermit of Far End, by Margaret Pedler + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hermit of Far End + +Author: Margaret Pedler + +Release Date: April 5, 2006 [EBook #3159] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMIT OF FAR END *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE HERMIT OF FAR END + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Margaret Pedler + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + First Published 1920. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PROLOGUE + </h2> + <p> + It was very quiet within the little room perched high up under the roof of + Wallater's Buildings. Even the glowing logs in the grate burned + tranquilly, without any of those brisk cracklings and sputterings which + make such cheerful company of a fire, while the distant roar of London's + traffic came murmuringly, dulled to a gentle monotone by the honeycomb of + narrow side streets that intervened between the gaunt, red-brick Buildings + and the bustling highways of the city. + </p> + <p> + It seemed almost as though the little room were waiting for something—some + one, just as the woman seated in the low chair at the hearthside was + waiting. + </p> + <p> + She sat very still, looking towards the door, her folded hands lying + quietly on her knees in an attitude of patient expectancy. It was as if, + although she found the waiting long and wearisome, she were yet quite sure + she would not have to wait in vain. + </p> + <p> + Once she bent forward and touched the little finger of her left hand, + which bore, at its base, a slight circular depression such as comes from + the constant wearing of a ring. She rubbed it softly with the forefinger + of the other hand. + </p> + <p> + “He will come,” she muttered. “He promised he would come if ever I sent + the little pearl ring.” + </p> + <p> + Then she leaned back once more, resuming her former attitude of patient + waiting, and the insistent silence, momentarily broken by her movement, + settled down again upon the room. + </p> + <p> + Presently the long rays of the westering sun crept round the edge of some + projecting eaves and, slanting in suddenly through the window, rested upon + the quiet figure in the chair. + </p> + <p> + Even in their clear, revealing light it would have been difficult to + decide the woman's age, so worn and lined was the mask-like face outlined + against the shabby cushion. She looked forty, yet there was something + still girlish in the pose of her black-clad figure which seemed to suggest + a shorter tale of years. Raven dark hair, lustreless and dull, framed a + pale, emaciated face from which ill-health had stripped almost all that + had once been beautiful. Only the immense dark eyes, feverishly bright + beneath the sunken temples, and the still lovely line from jaw to pointed + chin, remained unmarred, their beauty mocked by the pinched nostrils and + drawn mouth, and by the scraggy, almost fleshless throat. + </p> + <p> + It might have been the face of a dead woman, so still, so waxen was it, + were it not for the eager brilliance of the eyes. In them, fixed + watchfully upon the closed door, was concentrated the whole vitality of + the failing body. + </p> + <p> + Beyond that door, flight upon flight of some steps dropped seemingly + endlessly one below the other, leading at last to a cement-floored + vestibule, cheerless and uninviting, which opened on to the street. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps there was no particular reason why the vestibule should have been + other than it was, seeing that Wallater's Buildings had not been designed + for the habitual loiterer. For such as he there remains always the + “luxurious entrance-hall” of hotel advertisement. + </p> + <p> + As far as the inhabitants of “Wallater's” were concerned, they clattered + over the cement flooring of the vestibule in the mornings, on their way to + work, without pausing to cast an eye of criticism upon its general aspect + of uncomeliness, and dragged tired feet across it in an evening with no + other thought but that of how many weary steps there were to climb before + the room which served as “home” should be attained. + </p> + <p> + But to the well-dressed, middle-aged man who now paused, half in doubt, on + the threshold of the Buildings, the sordid-looking vestibule, with its + bare floor and drab-coloured walls, presented an epitome of desolation. + </p> + <p> + His keen blue eyes, in one of which was stuck a monocle attached to a + broad black ribbon, rested appraisingly upon the ascending spiral of the + stone stairway that vanished into the gloomy upper reaches of the + Building. + </p> + <p> + Against this chill background there suddenly took shape in his mind the + picture of a spacious room, fragrant with the scent of roses—a room + full of mellow tints of brown and gold, athwart which the afternoon + sunlight lingered tenderly, picking out here the limpid blue of a bit of + old Chinese “blue-and-white,” there the warm gleam of polished copper, or + here again the bizarre, gem-encrusted image of an Eastern god. All that + was rare and beautiful had gone to the making of the room, and rarer and + more beautiful than all, in the eyes of the man whose memory now recalled + it, had been the woman to whom it had belonged, whose loveliness had + glowed within it like a jewel in a rich setting. + </p> + <p> + With a mental jolt his thoughts came back to the present, to the bare, + commonplace ugliness of Wallater's Buildings. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he muttered. “Pauline—here!” + </p> + <p> + Then with swift steps he began the ascent of the stone steps, gradually + slackening in pace until, when he reached the summit and stood facing that + door behind which a woman watched and waited, he had perforce to pause to + regain his breath, whilst certain twinges in his right knee reminded him + that he was no longer as young as he had been. + </p> + <p> + In answer to his knock a low voice bade him enter, and a minute later he + was standing in the quiet little room, his eyes gazing levelly into the + feverish dark ones of the woman who had risen at his entrance. + </p> + <p> + “So!” she said, while an odd smile twisted her bloodless lips. “You have + come, after all. Sometimes—I began to doubt if you would. It is days—an + eternity since I sent for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been away,” he replied simply. “And my mail was not forwarded. I + came directly I received the ring—at once, as I told you I should.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sit down and let us talk”—impatiently—“it doesn't + matter—nothing matters since you have come in time.” + </p> + <p> + “In time? What do you mean? In time for what? Pauline, tell me”—advancing + a step—“tell me, in God's Name, what are you doing in this place?” + He glanced significantly round the shabby room with its threadbare carpet + and distempered walls. + </p> + <p> + “I'm living here—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Living here? You?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why not? Soon”—indifferently—“I shall be dying here. It + is, at least, as good a place to die in as any other.” + </p> + <p> + “Dying?” The man's pleasant baritone voice suddenly shook. “Dying? Oh, no, + no! You've been ill—I can see that—but with care and good + nursing—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't deceive yourself, my friend,” she interrupted him remorselessly. + “See, come to the window. Now look at me—and then don't talk any + more twaddle about care and good nursing!” + </p> + <p> + She had drawn him towards the window, till they were standing together in + the full blaze of the setting sun. Then she turned and faced him—a + gaunt wreck of splendid womanhood, her fingers working nervously, whilst + her too brilliant eyes, burning in their grey, sunken, sockets, searched + his face curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You've worn better than I have,” she observed at last, breaking the + silence with a short laugh, “you must be—let me see—fifty. + While I'm barely thirty-one—and I look forty—and the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he reached out and gathered her thin, restless hands into his, + holding them in a kind, firm clasp. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear!” he said sadly. “Is there nothing I can do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered steadily. “There is. And it's to ask you if you will + do it that I sent for you. Do you suppose”—she swallowed, battling + with the tremor in her voice—“that I <i>wanted</i> you to see me—as + I am now? It was months—months before I could bring myself to send + you the little pearl ring.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped and kissed one of the hands he held. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, foolish woman! You would always be—just Pauline—to me.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes softened suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “So you never married, after all?” + </p> + <p> + He straightened his shoulders, meeting her glance squarely—almost + sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you imagine that I should?” he asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I suppose not.” She looked away. “What a mess I made of things, + didn't I? However, it's all past now; the game's nearly over, thank + Heaven! Life, since that day”—the eyes of the man and woman met + again in swift understanding—“has been one long hell.” + </p> + <p> + “He—the man you married—” + </p> + <p> + “Made that hell. I left him after six years of it, taking the child with + me.” + </p> + <p> + “The child?” A curious expression came into his eyes, resentful, yet + tinged at the same time with an oddly tender interest. “Was there a + child?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I have a little daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “And did your husband never trace you?” he asked, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “He never tried to”—grimly. “Afterwards—well, it was downhill + all the way. I didn't know how to work, and by that time I had learned my + health was going. Since then, I've lived on the proceeds of the pawnshop—I + had my jewels, you know—and on the odd bits of money I could scrape + together by taking in sewing.” + </p> + <p> + A groan burst from the man's dry lips. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he cried. “Pauline, Pauline, it was cruel of you to keep me + in ignorance! I could at least have helped.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't take—<i>your</i> money,” she said quietly. “I was too + proud for that. But, dear friend”—as she saw him wince—“I'm + not proud any longer. I think Death very soon shows us how little—pride—matters; + it falls into its right perspective when one is nearing the end of things. + I'm so little proud now that I've sent for you to ask your help.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything—anything!” he said eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “It's rather a big thing that I'm going to ask, I'm afraid. I want you,” + she spoke slowly, as though to focus his attention, “to take care of my + child—when I am gone.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “But her father? Will he consent?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is dead. I received the news of his death six months ago. There is no + one—no one who has any claim upon her. And no one upon whom she has + any claim, poor little atom!”—smiling rather bitterly. “Ah! Don't + deny me!”—her thin, eager hands clung to his—“don't deny me—say + that you'll take her!” + </p> + <p> + “Deny you? But, of course I shan't deny you. I'm only thankful that you + have turned to me at last—that you have not quite forgotten!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgotten?” Her voice vibrated. “Believe me or not, as you will, there + has never been a day for nine long years when I have not remembered—never + a night when I have not prayed God to bless you——” She broke + off, her mouth working uncontrollably. + </p> + <p> + Very quietly, very tenderly, he drew her into his arms. There was no + passion in the caress—for was it not eventide, and the lengthening + shadows of night already fallen across her path?—but there was + infinite love, and forgiveness, and understanding. . . . + </p> + <p> + “And now, may I see her—the little daughter?” + </p> + <p> + The twilight had gathered about them during that quiet hour of reunion, + wherein old hurts had been healed, old sins forgiven, and now at last they + had come back together out of the past to the recognition of all that yet + remained to do. + </p> + <p> + There came a sound of running footsteps on the stairs outside—light, + eager steps, buoyant with youth, that evidently found no hardship in the + long ascent from the street level. + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” The woman paused, her head a little turned to listen. “Here she + comes. No one else on this floor”—with a whimsical smile—“could + take the last flight of those awful stairs at a run.” + </p> + <p> + The door flew open, and the man received an impressionist picture of which + the salient features were a mop of black hair, a scarlet jersey, and a + pair of abnormally long black legs. + </p> + <p> + Then the door closed with a bang, and the blur of black and scarlet + resolved itself into a thin, eager-faced child of eight, who paused + irresolutely upon perceiving a stranger in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, kiddy,” the woman held out her hand. “This”—and her eyes + sought those of the man as though beseeching confirmation—“is your + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + The child advanced and shook hands politely, then stood still, staring at + this unexpectedly acquired relative. + </p> + <p> + Her sharp-pointed face was so thin and small that her eyes, beneath their + straight, dark brows, seemed to be enormous—black, sombre eyes, + having no kinship with the intense, opaque brown so frequently miscalled + black, but suggestive of the vibrating darkness of night itself. + </p> + <p> + Instinctively the man's glance wandered to the face of the child's mother. + </p> + <p> + “You think her like me?” she hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “She is very like you,” he assented gravely. + </p> + <p> + A wry smile wrung her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope that the likeness is only skin-deep, then!” she said + bitterly. “I don't want her life to be—as mine has been.” + </p> + <p> + “If,” he said gently, “if you will trust her to me, Pauline, I swear to + you that I will do all in my power to save her from—what you've + suffered.” + </p> + <p> + The woman shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It's all a matter of character,” she said nonchalantly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he agreed simply. Then he turned to the child, who was standing a + little distance away from him, eyeing him distrustfully. “What do you say, + child! You wouldn't be afraid to come and live with me, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am never afraid of people,” she answered promptly. “Except the man who + comes for the rent; he is fat, and red, and a beast. But I'd rather go on + living with Mumsy, thank you—Uncle.” The designation came after a + brief hesitation. “You see,” she added politely, as though fearful that + she might have hurt his feelings, “we've always lived together.” She flung + a glance of almost passionate adoration at her mother, who turned towards + the man, smiling a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “You see how it is with her?” she said. “She lives by her affections—conversely + from her mother, her heart rules her head. You will be gentle with her, + won't you, when the wrench comes?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, taking her hand in his and speaking with the quiet + solemnity of a man who vows himself before some holy altar, “I shall never + forget that she is your child—the child of the woman I love.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <h3> + A MORNING ADVENTURE + </h3> + <p> + The dewy softness of early morning still hung about the woods, veiling + their autumn tints in broken, drifting swathes of pearly mist, while + towards the east, where the rising sun pushed long, dim fingers of light + into the murky greyness of the sky, a tremulous golden haze grew and + deepened. + </p> + <p> + Little, delicate twitterings vibrated on the air—the sleepy chirrup + of awakening birds, the rustle of a fallen leaf beneath the pad of some + belated cat stealing back to the domestic hearth, the stir of a rabbit in + its burrow. + </p> + <p> + Presently these sank into insignificance beside a more definite sound—the + crackle of dry leaves and the snapping of twigs beneath a heavier footfall + than that of any marauding Tom, and through a clearing in the woods + slouched the figure of a man, gun on shoulder, the secret of his bulging + side-pockets betrayed by the protruding tail feathers of a cock-pheasant. + </p> + <p> + He was not an attractive specimen of mankind. Beneath the peaked cap, + crammed well down on to his head, gleamed a pair of surly, watchful eyes, + and, beneath these again, the unshaven, brutal, out-thrust jaw offered + little promise of better things. + </p> + <p> + Nor did his appearance in any way belie his reputation, which was unsavory + in the extreme. Indeed, if report spoke truly, “Black Brady,” as he was + commonly called, had on one occasion only escaped the gallows thanks to + the evidence of a village girl—one who had loved him recklessly, to + her own undoing. Every one had believed her evidence to be false, but, as + she had stuck to what she said through thick and thin, and as no amount of + cross-examination had been able to shake her, Brady had contrived to slip + through the hands of the police. + </p> + <p> + Conceiving, however, that, after this episode, the air of his native place + might prove somewhat insalubrious for a time, he had migrated thence to + Fallowdene, establishing himself in a cottage on the outskirts of the + village and finding the major portion of his sustenance by skillfully + poaching the preserves of the principal landowners of the surrounding + district. + </p> + <p> + On this particular morning he was well content with his night's work. He + had raided the covers of one Patrick Lovell, the owner of Barrow Court, + who, although himself a confirmed invalid and debarred from all manner of + sport, employed two or three objectionably lynx-eyed keepers to safeguard + his preserves for the benefit of his heirs and assigns. + </p> + <p> + No covers were better stocked than those of Barrow Court, but Brady rarely + risked replenishing his larder from them, owing to the extreme + wideawakeness of the head gamekeeper. It was therefore not without a warm + glow of satisfaction about the region of his heart that he made his way + homeward through the early morning, reflecting on the ease with which last + night's marauding expedition had been conducted. He even pursed his lips + together and whistled softly—a low, flute-like sound that might + almost have been mistaken for the note of a blackbird. + </p> + <p> + But it is unwise to whistle before you are out of the wood, and Brady's + triumph was short-lived. Swift as a shadow, a lithe figure darted out from + among the trees and planted itself directly in his path. + </p> + <p> + With equal swiftness, Brady brought his gunstock to his shoulder. Then he + hesitated, finger on trigger, for the lion in his path was no burly + gamekeeper, as, for the first moment, he had supposed. It was a woman who + faced him—a mere girl of twenty, whose slender figure looked somehow + boyish in its knitted sports coat and very short, workmanlike skirt. The + suggestion of boyishness was emphasized by her attitude, as she stood + squarely planted in front of Black Brady, her hands thrust deep into her + pockets, her straight young back very flat, and her head a little tilted, + so that her eyes might search the surly face beneath the peaked cap. + </p> + <p> + They were arresting eyes—amazingly dark, “like two patches o' the + sky be night,” as Brady described them long afterwards to a crony of his, + and they gazed up at the astonished poacher from a small, sharply angled + face, as delicately cut as a cameo. + </p> + <p> + “Put that gun down!” commanded an imperious young voice, a voice that held + something indescribably sweet and thrilling in its vibrant quality. “What + are you doing in these woods?” + </p> + <p> + Brady, recovering from his first surprise, lowered his gun, but answered + truculently— + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind what I'm doin'.” + </p> + <p> + The girl pointed significantly to his distended pockets. + </p> + <p> + “I don't need to ask. Empty out your pockets and take yourself off. Do you + hear?” she added sharply, as the man made no movement to obey. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't do nothin' o' the sort,” he growled. “You go your ways and leave + me to go mine—or it'll be the worse for 'ee.” He raised his gun + threateningly. + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not in the least afraid of that gun,” she said tranquilly. “But you + are afraid to use it,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Am I?” He wheeled suddenly, and, on the instant, a deafening report + shattered the quiet of the woods. Then the smoke drifted slowly aside, + revealing the man and the girl face to face once more. + </p> + <p> + But although she still stood her ground, dark shadows had suddenly painted + themselves beneath her eyes, and the slight young breast beneath the + jaunty sports coat rose and fell unevenly. Within the shelter of her + coat-pockets her hands were clenched tightly. + </p> + <p> + “That was a waste of a good cartridge,” she observed quietly. “You only + fired in the air.” + </p> + <p> + Black Brady glared at her. + </p> + <p> + “If I'd liked, I could 'ave killed 'ee as easy as knockin' a bird off a + bough,” he said sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “You could,” she agreed. “And then I should have been dead and you would + have been waiting for a hanging. Of the two, I think my position would + have been the more comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + A look of unwilling admiration spread itself slowly over the man's face. + </p> + <p> + “You be a cool 'and, and no mistake,” he acknowledged. “I thought to + frighten you off by firin'.” + </p> + <p> + The girl nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, as you haven't, suppose you allow that I've won and that it's up to + me to dictate terms. If my uncle were to see you—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not comin' up to the house—don't you think it, win or no win,” + broke in Brady hastily. + </p> + <p> + The girl regarded him judicially. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think we particularly want you up at the house,” she remarked. + “If you'll do as I say—empty your pockets—you may go.” + </p> + <p> + The man reluctantly made as though to obey, but even while he hesitated, + he saw the girl's eyes suddenly look past him, over his shoulder, and, + turning suspiciously, he swung straight into the brawny grip of the head + keeper, who, hearing a shot fired, had deserted his breakfast and hurried + in the direction of the sound and now came up close behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Caught this time, Brady, my man,” chuckled the keeper triumphantly. “It's + gaol for you this journey, as sure's my name's Clegg. Has the fellow been + annoying you, Miss Sara?” he added, touching his hat respectfully as he + turned towards the girl, whilst with his other hand he still retained his + grip of Brady's arm. + </p> + <p> + She laughed as though suddenly amused. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to speak of, Clegg,” she replied. “And I'm afraid you mustn't + send him to prison this time. I told him if he would empty his pockets he + might go. That still holds good,” she added, looking towards Brady, who + flashed her a quick look of gratitude from beneath his heavy brows and + proceeded to turn out the contents of his pockets with commendable + celerity. + </p> + <p> + But the keeper protested against the idea of releasing his prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “It's a fair cop, miss,” he urged entreatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Can't help it, Clegg. I promised. So you must let him go.” + </p> + <p> + The man obeyed with obvious reluctance. Then, when Brady had hastened to + make himself scarce, he turned and scrutinized the girl curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You all right, Miss Sara? Shall I see you up to the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks, Clegg,” she said. “I'm—I'm quite all right. You can go + back to your breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, miss.” He touched his hat and plunged back again into the + woods. + </p> + <p> + The girl stood still, looking after him. She was rather white, but she + remained very erect and taut until the keeper had disappeared from view. + Then the tense rigidity of her figure slackened, as a stretched wire + slackens when the pull on it suddenly ceases, and she leaned helpless + against the trunk of a tree, limp and shaking, every fine-strung nerve + ajar with the strain of her recent encounter with Black Brady. As she felt + her knees giving way weakly beneath her, a dogged little smile twisted her + lips. + </p> + <p> + “You are a cool 'and, and no mistake,” she whispered shakily, an ironical + gleam flickering in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + She propped herself up against the friendly tree, and, after a few + minutes, the quick throbbing of her heart steadied down and the colour + began to steal back into her lips. At length she stooped, and, picking up + her hat, which had fallen off and lay on the ground at her feet, she + proceeded to make her way through the woods in the direction of the house. + </p> + <p> + Barrow Court, as the name implied, was situated on the brow of a hill, + sheltered from the north and easterly winds by a thick belt of pines which + half-encircled it, for ever murmuring and whispering together as + pine-trees will. + </p> + <p> + To Sara Tennant, the soft, sibilant noise was a beloved and familiar + sound. From the first moment when, as a child, she had come to live at + Barrow, the insistent murmur of the pines had held an extraordinary + fascination for her. That, and their pungent scent, seemed to be + interwoven with her whole life there, like the thread of some single + colour that persists throughout the length of a woven fabric. + </p> + <p> + She had been desperately miserable and lonely at the time of her advent at + the Court; and all through the long, wakeful vigil of her first night, it + had seemed to her vivid, childish imagination as though the big, swaying + trees, bleakly etched against the moonlit sky, had understood her + desolation and had whispered and crooned consolingly outside her window. + Since then, she had learned that the voice of the pines, like the voice of + the sea, is always pitched in a key that responds to the mood of the + listener. If you chance to be glad, then the pines will whisper of + sunshine and summer, little love idylls that one tree tells to another, + but if your heart is heavy within you, you will hear only a dirge in the + hush of their waving tops. + </p> + <p> + As Sara emerged from the shelter of the woods, her eyes instinctively + sought the great belt of trees that crowned the opposite hill, with the + grey bulk of the house standing out in sharp relief against their eternal + green. A little smile of pure pleasure flitted across her face; to her + there was something lovable and rather charming about the very + architectural inconsistencies which prevented Barrow Court from being, in + any sense of the word, a show place. + </p> + <p> + The central portion of the house, was comparatively modern, built of stone + in solid Georgian fashion, but quaintly flanked at either end by a + massive, mediaeval tower, survival of the good old days when the Lovells + of Fallowdene had held their own against all comers, not even excepting, + in the case of one Roderic, his liege lord and master the King, the latter + having conceived a not entirely unprovoked desire to deprive him of his + lands and liberty—a desire destined, however, to be frustrated by + the solid masonry of Barrow. + </p> + <p> + A flagged terrace ran the whole length of the long, two-storied house, + broadening out into wide wings at the base of either tower, and, below the + terrace, green, shaven lawns, dotted with old yew, sloped down to the edge + of a natural lake which lay in the hollow of the valley, gleaming like a + sheet of silver in the morning sunlight. + </p> + <p> + Prim walks, bordered by high box hedges, intersected the carefully tended + gardens, and along one of these Sara took her way, quickening her steps to + a run as the booming summons of a gong suddenly reverberated on the air. + </p> + <p> + She reached the house, flushed and a little breathless, and, tossing aside + her hat as she sped through the big, oak-beamed hall, hurried into a + pleasant, sunshiny room, where a couple of menservants were moving quietly + about, putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table. + </p> + <p> + An invalid's wheeled chair stood close to the open window, and in it, with + a rug tucked about his knees, was seated an elderly man of some sixty-two + or three years of age. He was leaning forward, giving animated + instructions to a gardener who listened attentively from the terrace + outside, and his alert, eager, manner contrasted oddly with the + helplessness of limb indicated by the necessity for the wheeled chair. + </p> + <p> + “That's all, Digby,” he said briskly. “I'll go through the hot-houses + myself some time to-day.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he signed to one of the footmen in the room to close the + window, and then propelled his chair with amazing rapidity to the table. + </p> + <p> + The instant and careful attention accorded to his commands by both + gardener and servant was characteristic of every one in Patrick Lovell's + employment. Although he had been a more or less helpless invalid for seven + years, he had never lost his grip of things. He was exactly as much master + of Barrow Court, the dominant factor there, as he had been in the good + times that were gone, when no day's shooting had been too long for him, no + run with hounds too fast. + </p> + <p> + He sat very erect in his wheeled chair, a handsome, well-groomed old + aristocrat. Clean-shaven, except for a short, carefully trimmed moustache, + grizzled like his hair, his skin exhibited the waxen pallor which so often + accompanies chronic ill-health, and his face was furrowed by deep lines, + making him look older than his sixty-odd years. His vivid blue eyes were + extraordinarily keen and penetrating; possibly they, and the determined, + squarish jaw, were answerable for that unquestioning obedience which was + invariably accorded him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, uncle mine!” Sara bent to kiss him as the door closed + quietly behind the retreating servants. + </p> + <p> + Patrick Lovell screwed his monocle into his eye and regarded her + dispassionately. + </p> + <p> + “You look somewhat ruffled,” he observed, “both literally and + figuratively.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, putting up a careless hand to brush back the heavy tress of + dark hair that had fallen forward over her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I've had an adventure,” she answered, and proceeded to recount her + experience with Black Brady. When she reached the point where the man had + fired off his gun, Patrick interrupted explosively. + </p> + <p> + “The infernal scoundrel! That fellow will dangle at the end of a rope one + of these days—and deserve it, too. He's a murderous ruffian—a + menace to the countryside.” + </p> + <p> + “He only fired into the air—to frighten me,” explained Sara. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle looked at her curiously. + </p> + <p> + “And did he succeed?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She bestowed a little grin of understanding upon him. + </p> + <p> + “He did,” she averred gravely. Then, as Patrick's bushy eyebrows came + together in a bristling frown, she added: “But he remained in ignorance of + the fact.” + </p> + <p> + The frown was replaced by a twinkle. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, then,” came the contented answer. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, I really <i>was</i> frightened,” she persisted. “It gave me + quite a nasty turn, as the servants say. I don't think”—meditatively—“that + I enjoy being shot at. Am I a funk, my uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my niece”—with some amusement. “On the contrary, I should + define the highest type of courage as self-control in the presence of + danger—not necessarily absence of fear. The latter is really no more + credit to you than eating your dinner when you're hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine, then, I perceive to be the highest type of courage,” chuckled Sara. + “It's a comforting reflection.” + </p> + <p> + It was, when propounded by Patrick Lovell, to whom physical fear was an + unknown quantity. Had he lived in the days of the Terror, he would + assuredly have taken his way to the guillotine with the same gay, debonair + courage which enabled the nobles of France to throw down their cards and + go to the scaffold with a smiling promise to the other players that they + would continue their interrupted game in the next world. + </p> + <p> + And when Sara had come to live with Patrick, a dozen years ago, he had + rigorously inculcated in her youthful mind a contempt for every form of + cowardice, moral and physical. + </p> + <p> + It had not been all plain sailing, for Sara was a highly strung child, + with the vivid imagination that is the primary cause of so much that is + carelessly designated cowardice. But Patrick had been very wise in his + methods. He had never rebuked her for lack of courage; he had simply taken + it for granted that she would keep her grip of herself. + </p> + <p> + Sara's thoughts slid back to an incident which had occurred during their + early days together. She had been very much alarmed by the appearance of a + huge mastiff who was permitted the run of the house, and her uncle, + noticing her shrinking avoidance of the rather formidable looking beast, + had composedly bidden her take him to the stables and chain him up. For an + instant the child had hesitated. Then, something in the man's quiet + confidence that she would obey had made its claim on her childish pride, + and, although white to the lips, she had walked straight up to the great + creature, hooked her small fingers into his collar, and marched him off to + his kennel. + </p> + <p> + Courage under physical pain she had learned from seeing Patrick contend + with his own infirmity. He suffered intensely at times, but neither groan + nor word of complaint was ever allowed to escape his set lips. Only Sara + would see, after what he described as “one of my damn bad days, m'dear,” + new lines added to the deepening network that had so aged his appearance + lately. + </p> + <p> + At these times she herself endured agonies of reflex suffering and + apprehension, since her attachment to Patrick Lovell was the moving factor + of her existence. Other girls had parents, brothers and sisters, and still + more distant relatives upon whom their capacity for loving might severally + expend itself. Sara had none of these, and the whole devotion of her + intensely ardent nature lavished itself upon the man whom she called + uncle. + </p> + <p> + Their mutual attitude was something more than the accepted relationship + implied. They were friends—these two—intimate friends, + comrades on an equal footing, respecting each other's reserves and + staunchly loyal to one another. Perhaps this was accounted for in a + measure by the very fact that they were united by no actual bond of blood. + That Sara was Patrick's niece by adoption was all the explanation of her + presence at Barrow Court that he had ever vouchsafed to the world in + general, and it practically amounted to the sum total of Sara's own + knowledge of the matter. + </p> + <p> + Hers had been a life of few relationships. She had no recollection of any + one who had ever stood towards her in the position of a father, and though + she realized that the one-time existence of such a personage must be + assumed, she had never felt much curiosity concerning him. + </p> + <p> + The horizon of her earliest childhood had held but one figure, that of an + adored mother, and “home” had been represented by a couple of meager rooms + at the top of a big warren of a place known as Wallater's Buildings, + tenanted principally by families of the artisan class. + </p> + <p> + Thus debarred by circumstances from the companionship of other children, + Sara's whole affections had centred round her mother, and she had never + forgotten the sheer, desolating anguish of that moment when the dreadful, + unresponsive silence of the sheeted figure, lying in the shabby little + bedroom they had shared together, brought home to her the significance of + death. + </p> + <p> + She had not cried, as most children of eight would have done, but she had + suffered in a kind of frozen silence, incapable of any outward expression + of grief. + </p> + <p> + “Unfeelin', I call it!” declared the woman who lived on the same floor as + the Tennants, and who had attended at the doctor's behest, to a friend and + neighbour who was occupied in boiling a kettle over a gas-ring. “Must be a + cold-'earted child as can see 'er own mother lyin' dead without so much as + a tear.” She sniffed. “'Aven't you got that cup o' tea ready yet? I can + allus drink a cup o' tea after a layin'-out.” + </p> + <p> + Sara had watched the two women drinking their tea with brooding eyes, her + small breast heaving with the intensity of her resentment. Without being + in any way able to define her emotions, she felt that there was something + horrible in their frank enjoyment of the steaming liquid, gulped down to + the cheerful accompaniment of a running stream of intimate gossip, while + all the time that quiet figure lay on the narrow bed—motionless, + silent, wrapped in the strange and immense aloofness of the dead. + </p> + <p> + Presently one of the women poured out a third cup of tea and pushed it + towards the child, slopping in the thin, bluish-looking milk with a + generous hand. + </p> + <p> + “'Ave a cup, child. It's as good a drop o' tea as ever I tasted.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Sara stared at her speechlessly; then, with a sudden + passionate gesture, she swept the cup on to the floor. + </p> + <p> + The clash of breaking china seemed to ring through the chamber of death, + the women's voices rose shrilly in reproof, and Sara, fleeing into the + adjoining room, cast herself face downwards upon the floor, + horror-stricken. It was not the raucous anger of the women which she + heeded; that passed her by. But she had outraged some fine, instinctive + sense by reverence that lay deep within her own small soul. + </p> + <p> + Still she did not cry. Only, as she lay on the ground with her face + hidden, she kept repeating in a tense whisper— + </p> + <p> + “You know I didn't mean it, God! You know I didn't mean it!” + </p> + <p> + It was then that Patrick Lovell had appeared, coming in response to she + knew not what summons, and had taken her away with him. And the tendrils + of her affection, wrenched from their accustomed hold, had twined + themselves about this grey-haired, blue-eyed man, set so apart by every <i>soigné</i> + detail of his person from the shabby, slip-shod world which Sara had + known, but who yet stood beside the bed on which her mother lay, with a + wrung mouth beneath his clipped moustache and a mist of tears dimming his + keen eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sara had loved him for those tears. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <h3> + THE PASSING OF PATRICK LOVELL + </h3> + <p> + Autumn had given place to winter, and a bitter northeast wind was tearing + through the pines, shrieking, as it fled, like the cry of a lost soul. The + eerie sound of it served in some indefinable way to emphasise the cosy + warmth and security of the room where Sara and her uncle were sitting, + their chairs drawn close up to the log fire which burned on the wide, + old-fashioned hearth. + </p> + <p> + Sara was engrossed in a book, her head bent low above its pages, + unconscious of the keen blue eyes that had been regarding her reflectively + for some minutes. + </p> + <p> + With the passage of the last two months, Patrick's face seemed to have + grown more waxen, worn a little finer, and now, as he sat quietly watching + the slender figure on the opposite side of the hearth, it wore a curious, + inscrutable expression, as though he were mentally balancing the pros and + cons of some knotty point. + </p> + <p> + At last he apparently came to a decision, for he laid aside the newspaper + he had been reading a few moments before, muttering half audibly: + </p> + <p> + “Must take your fences as you come to 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Sara looked up abstractedly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you say anything?” she asked doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + Patrick gave his shoulders a grim shake. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to,” he replied. “It's something that must be said, and, as + I've never been in favour of postponing a thing just because its + disagreeable, we may as well get it over.” + </p> + <p> + He had focused Sara's attention unmistakably now. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked quickly. “You haven't had bad news?” + </p> + <p> + An odd smile crossed his face. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary.” He hesitated a moment, then continued: “I had a longish + talk with Dr. McPherson yesterday, and the upshot of it is that I may be + required to hand in my checks any day now. I wanted you to know,” he added + simply. + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of the understanding between these two that Patrick + made no effort to “break the news,” or soften it in any way. He had always + been prepared to face facts himself, and he had trained Sara in the same + stern creed. + </p> + <p> + So that now, when he quietly stated in plain language the thing which she + had been inwardly dreading for some weeks—for, though silent on the + matter, she had not failed to observe his appearance of increasing frailty—she + took it like a thorough-bred. Her eyes dilated a little, but her voice was + quite steady as she said: + </p> + <p> + “You mean——” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that before very long I shall put off this vile body.” He glanced + down whimsically at his useless legs, cloaked beneath the inevitable rug. + “After all,” he continued, “life—and death—are both fearfully + interesting if one only goes to meet them instead of running away from + them. Then they become bogies.” + </p> + <p> + “And what shall I do . . . without you?” she said very low. + </p> + <p> + “Aye.” He nodded. “It's worse for those who are left behind. I've been one + of them, and I know. I remember—” He broke off short, his blue eyes + dreaming. Presently he gave his shoulders the characteristic little shake + which presaged the dismissal of some recalcitrant secret thought, and went + on in quick, practical tones. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go out leaving a lot of loose ends behind me—a + tangle for you to unravel. So, since the fiat has gone forth—McPherson's + a sound man and knows his job—let's face it together, little old + pal. It will mean your leaving Barrow, you know,” he added tentatively. + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded, her face rather white. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. I shan't care—then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, you will”—with shrewd wisdom. “It will be an extra drop in + the bucket, you'll find, when the time comes. Unfortunately, however, + there's no getting round the entail, and when I go, my cousin, Major + Durward, will reign in my stead.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does the Court go to a Durward?” asked Sara listlessly. “Aren't there + any Lovells to inherit?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a Lovell. His father and mine were brothers, but his godfather, old + Timothy Durward left him his property on condition that he adopted the + name. Geoffrey Durward has a son called Timothy—after the old man.” + </p> + <p> + “The Durwards have never been here since I came to live with you,” + observed Sara thoughtfully. “Don't you care for him—your cousin, I + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Geoffrey? Yes, he's a charming fellow, and he's been a rattling good + soldier—got his D.S.O. in the South African campaign. But he and his + wife—she was a Miss Eden—were stationed in India so many + years, I rather lost touch with them. They came home when the Durward + property fell in to them—about seven or eight years ago. She, I + think”—reminiscently—“was one of the most beautiful women I've + ever seen.” + </p> + <p> + The shadow in Sara's eyes lifted for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the reason you've always remained a bachelor?” she asked, + twinkling. + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul, no! I never wanted to marry Elisabeth Eden—though + there were plenty of men who did.” He regarded Sara with an odd smile. + “Some day, you'll know—why I never wanted to marry Elisabeth.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me now.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No. You'll know soon enough—soon enough.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent, fallen a-dreaming once again; and again he seemed to pull + himself up short, forcing himself back to the consideration of the + practical needs of the moment. + </p> + <p> + “As I was saying, Sara, sooner or later you'll have to turn out of the old + Court. It's entailed, and the income with it. But I've a clear four + hundred a year, altogether apart from the Barrow moneys, and that, at my + death, will be yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to hear about it!” burst out Sara passionately. “It's + hateful even talking of such things.” + </p> + <p> + Patrick smiled, amused and a little touched by youth's lack of worldly + wisdom. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool, my dear. I shan't die a day sooner for having made my + will—and I shall die a deal more comfortably, knowing that you are + provided for. I promised your mother that, as far as lay in my power, I + would shield you from wrecking your life as she wrecked hers. And money—a + secure little income of her own—is a very good sort of shield for a + women. Four hundred's not enough to satisfy a mercenary individual, but + it's enough to enable a woman to marry for love—and not for a home!” + He spoke with a kind of repressed bitterness, as though memory had stirred + into fresh flame the embers of some burnt-out passion of regret, and Sara + looked at him with suddenly aroused interest. + </p> + <p> + But apparently Patrick did not sense the question that troubled on her + lips, or, if he did, had no mind to answer it, for he went on in lighter + tones: + </p> + <p> + “There, that's enough about business for the present. I only wanted you to + know that, whatever happens, you will be all right as far as + bread-and-cheese are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you think that's all I should care about!” exclaimed Sara + stormily. + </p> + <p> + Patrick smiled. He had not been a citizen of the world for over sixty + years without acquiring the grim knowledge that neither intense happiness + nor deep grief suffice to deaden for very long the pinpricks of material + discomfort. But the worldly-wise old man possessed a broad tolerance for + the frailties of human nature, and his smile held nothing of contempt, but + only a whimsical humour touched with kindly understanding. + </p> + <p> + “I know you better than that, my dear,” he answered quietly. “But I often + think of what I once heard an old working-woman, down in the village, say. + She had just lost her husband, and the rector's wife was handing out the + usual platitudes, and holding forth on the example of Christian fortitude + exhibited by a very wealthy lady in the neighbourhood, who had also been + recently widowed. 'That's all very well, ma'am,' said my old woman drily, + 'but fat sorrow's a deal easier to bear than lean sorrow.' And though it + may sound unromantic, it's the raw truth—only very few people are + sincere enough to acknowledge it.” + </p> + <p> + In the weeks that followed, Patrick seemed to recover a large measure of + his accustomed vigour. He was extraordinarily alert and cheerful—so + <i>alive</i> that Sara began to hope Dr. McPherson had been mistaken in + his opinion, and that there might yet remain many more good years of the + happy comradeship that existed between herself and her guardian. + </p> + <p> + Such buoyancy appeared incompatible with the imminence of death, and one + day, driven by the very human instinct to hear her optimism endorsed, she + scoffed a little, tentatively, at the doctor's verdict. + </p> + <p> + Patrick shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, he's right,” he said decisively. “But I'm not going to whine + about it. Taken all round, I've found life a very good sort of thing—although”—reflectively—“I've + missed the best it has to offer a man. And probably I'll find death a very + good sort of thing, too, when it comes.” + </p> + <p> + And so Patrick Lovell went forward, his spirit erect, to meet death with + the same cheerful, half-humorous courage he had opposed to the emergencies + of life. + </p> + <p> + It was a few days after this, on Christmas Eve, that Sara, coming into his + special den with a gay little joke on her lips and a great bunch of + mistletoe in her arms, was arrested by the sudden, chill quiet of the + little room. + </p> + <p> + The familiar wheeled chair was drawn up to the window, and she could see + the back of Patrick's head with its thick crop of grizzled hair, but he + did not turn or speak at the sound of her entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, didn't you hear me? Are you asleep? . . . <i>Uncle!</i>” Her voice + shrilled on to a sharp staccato note, then cracked and broke suddenly. + </p> + <p> + There came no movement from the chair. The silence remained unbroken save + for the ticking of a clock and the loud beating of her own heart. The two + seemed to merge into one gigantic pulse . . . deafening . . . overwhelming + . . . like the surge of some immense, implacable sea. + </p> + <p> + She swayed a little, clutching at the door for support. Then the throbbing + ceased, and she was only conscious of a solitude so intense that it seemed + to press about her like a tangible thing. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly, on feet of terror, she crossed the room and stood looking down at + the motionless figure of her uncle. His face was turned towards the sun, + and wore an expression of complete happiness and content, as though he had + just found something for which he had been searching. He had looked like + that a thousand times, when, seeking for her, he had come upon her, at + last, hidden in some shady nook in the garden or swinging in her hammock. + She could almost hear the familiar “Oh, there you are, little pal!” with + which he would joyously acclaim her discovery. + </p> + <p> + She lifted the hand that was resting quietly on his knee. It lay in hers, + flaccid and inert, its dreadful passivity stinging her into realization of + the truth. Patrick was dead. And, judging from his expression, he had + found death “a very good sort of thing,” just as he had expected. + </p> + <p> + For a little while Sara remained standing quietly beside the still figure + in the chair. They would never be alone together any more—not quite + like this, Patrick sitting in his accustomed place, wearing his beloved + old tweeds, with an immaculate tie and with his single eyeglass—about + which she had so often chaffed him—dangling across his chest on its + black ribbon. + </p> + <p> + Her mouth quivered. “Stand up to it!” . . . The voice—Patrick's + voice—seemed to sound in her ear . . . “Stand up to it, little old + pal!” + </p> + <p> + She bit back the sob that climbed to her throat, and stood silently facing + the enemy, as it were. + </p> + <p> + This was the end, then, of one chapter of her existence—the chapter + of sheltered, happy life at Barrow, and in these quiet moments, alone for + the last time with Patrick Lovell, Sara tried to gather strength and + courage from her memories of his cheery optimism to face gamely whatever + might befall her in the big world into which she must so soon adventure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <h3> + A SHEAF OF MEMORIES + </h3> + <p> + It was over. The master of Barrow had been carried shoulder-high to the + great vault where countless Lovells slept their last sleep, the blinds had + been drawn up, letting in the wintry sunlight once again, and the mourners + had gone their ways. Only the new owner of the Court still lingered, and + even he would be leaving very soon now. + </p> + <p> + Sara, her slim, boyish build, with its long line of slender hip, + accentuated by the clinging black of her gown, moved listlessly across the + hall to where Major Durward was standing smoking by the big open fire, + waiting for the car which was to take him to the station. + </p> + <p> + He made as though to throw his cigarette away at her approach, but she + gestured a hasty negative. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't,” she said. “I like it. It seems to make things a little more + natural. Uncle Pat”—with a wan smile—“was always smoking.” + </p> + <p> + Her sombre eyes were shadowed and sad, and there was a pinched, drawn look + about her nostrils. Major Durward regarded her with a concerned expression + on his kindly face. + </p> + <p> + “You will miss him badly,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I shall miss him,”—simply. She returned his glance frankly. + “You are very like him, you know,” she added suddenly. + </p> + <p> + It was true. The big, soldierly man beside her, with his jolly blue eyes, + grey hair, and short-clipped military moustache, bore a striking + resemblance to the Patrick Lovell of ten years ago, before ill-health had + laid its finger upon him, and during the difficult days that succeeded her + uncle's death Sara had unconsciously found a strange kind of comfort in + the likeness. She had dreaded inexpressibly the advent of the future owner + of Barrow, but, when he had arrived, his resemblance to his dead cousin, + and a certain similarity of gesture and of voice, common enough in + families, had at once established a sense of kinship, which had deepened + with her recognition of Durward's genuine kind-heartedness and solicitude + for her comfort. + </p> + <p> + He had immediately assumed control of affairs, taking all the inevitable + detail of arrangement off her shoulders, yet deferring to her as though + she were still just as much mistress of the Court as she had been before + her uncle's death. In every way he had tried to ease and smooth matters + for her, and she felt proportionately grateful to him. + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you think I'm like him,” said Durward gently, “will you let me + try to take his place a little? I mean,” he explained hastily, fearing she + might misunderstand him, “that you will miss his guardianship and care of + you, as well as the good pal you found in him. Will you let me try to fill + in the gaps, if—if you should want advice, or service—anything + over which a male man can be a bit useful? Oh——” breaking off + with a short, embarrassed laugh—“it is so difficult to explain what + I do mean!” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know,” said Sara, smiling faintly. “You mean that now that + Uncle Pat has gone, you don't want me to feel quite adrift in the world.” + </p> + <p> + The big man, hampered by his masculine shyness of a difficult situation, + smiled back at her, relieved. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it, that's it!” he agreed eagerly. “I want you to regard me + as a—a sort of sheet-anchor upon which you can pull in a storm.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Sara. “I will. But I hope there won't be storms of such + magnitude that I shall need to pull very hard.” + </p> + <p> + Durward smoked furiously for a moment. Then he burst forth— + </p> + <p> + “You can't imagine what a brute I feel for turning you out of the Court. I + wish it need not be. But the Lovells have always lived at the old place, + and my wife—” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” She interrupted him gently. “Naturally, she wishes to live + here. I owe you no grudge for that,” smiling. “When—how soon do you + think of coming? I will make my arrangements accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + “We should like to come as soon as possible, really,” he admitted + reluctantly. “I have the chance of leasing Durward Park, if the tenant can + have what practically amounts to immediate possession. And of course, in + the circumstances, I should be glad to get the Durward property off my + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you would.” Sara nodded understandingly. “If you could let me + have a few days in which to find some rooms—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he broke in eagerly. “I want you still to regard Barrow as your + headquarters—to stay on here with us until you have fixed some + permanent arrangement that suits you.” + </p> + <p> + She was touched by the kindly suggestion; nevertheless, she shook her head + with decision. + </p> + <p> + “It is more than kind of you to think of such a thing,” she said + gratefully. “But it is quite out of the question. Why, I am not even a + cousin several times removed! I have no claim at all. Mrs. Durward—” + </p> + <p> + “Will be delighted. She asked me to be sure and tell you so. Please, Miss + Tennant, don't refuse me. Don't”—persuasively—“oblige us to + feel more brutal interlopers than we need.” + </p> + <p> + Still she hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “If I were sure—” she began doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “You may be—absolutely sure. There!”—with a sigh of relief—“that's + settled. But, as I can see you're the kind of person whose conscientious + scruples will begin to worry you the moment I'm gone”—he smiled—“my + wife will write to you. Promise not to run away in the meantime?” + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” said Sara. She held out her hand. “And—thank you.” Her + eyes, suddenly misty, supplemented the baldness of the words. + </p> + <p> + He took the outstretched hand in a close, friendly grip. + </p> + <p> + “Good. That's the car, I think,” as the even purring of a motor sounded + from outside. “I must be off. But it's only <i>au revoir</i>, remember.” + </p> + <p> + She walked with him to the door, and stood watching until the car was lost + in sight round a bend of the drive. Then, as she turned back into the + hall, the emptiness of the house seemed to close down about her all at + once, like a pall. + </p> + <p> + Amid the manifold duties and emergencies of the last few days she had + hardly had time to realize the immensity of her loss. Practical matters + had forcibly obtruded themselves upon her consideration—the + necessity of providing accommodation for the various relatives who had + attended the funeral, the frequent consultations that Major Durward, to + all intents and purposes a stranger to the ways of Barrow, had been + obliged to hold with her, the reading of the will—all these had + combined to keep her in a state of mental and physical alertness which had + mercifully precluded retrospective thought. + </p> + <p> + But now the necessity for <i>doing</i> anything was past; there were no + longer any claims upon her time, nothing to distract her, and she had + leisure to visualize the full significance of Patrick's death and all that + it entailed. + </p> + <p> + Rather languidly she mounted the stairs to her own room, and drawing up a + low chair to the fire, sat staring absently into its glowing heart. + </p> + <p> + Virtually, she was alone in the world. Even Major Durward, who had been so + infinitely kind, was not bound to her by any ties other than those forged + of his own friendly feelings. True, he had been Patrick's cousin. But + Patrick, although he had made up Sara's whole world, had been entirely + unrelated to her. + </p> + <p> + Her heart throbbed with a sudden rush of intense gratitude towards the man + who had so amply fulfilled his trust as guardian, and she glanced up + wistfully at the big photograph of him which stood upon the chimney-piece. + </p> + <p> + Propped against the photo-frame was a square white envelope on which was + written: <i>To be given to my ward, Sara Tennant, after my death</i>. The + family solicitor had handed it to her the previous day, after the reading + of the will, but the demands upon her time and attention had been so many, + owing to the number of relatives who temporarily filled the house, that + she had laid it on one side for perusal when she should be alone once + more. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the familiar handwriting brought a swift mist of tears to her + eyes, and she hesitated a little before opening the sealed envelope. + </p> + <p> + It was strange to realize that here was some message for her from Patrick + himself, but that no matter what the envelope might contain, she would be + able to give back no answer, make no reply. The knowledge seemed to set + him very far away from her, and for a few moments she sobbed quietly, + feeling utterly solitary and alone. + </p> + <p> + Presently she brushed the tears from her eyes and slit open the flap of + the envelope. Inside was a half-sheet of notepaper wrapped about a small + old-fashioned key, and on the outer fold was written: “<i>The key of the + Chippendale bureau</i>.” That was all. + </p> + <p> + For an instant Sara was puzzled. Then she remembered that amongst + Patrick's personal bequests to her had been that of the small mahogany + bureau which stood near the window of his bedroom. It had not occurred to + her at the time that its contents might have any interest for her; in + fact, she had supposed it to be empty. But now she realized that there was + evidently something within it which Patrick must have valued, seeing he + had guarded the key so carefully and directed its delivery to her through + the reliable hands of his solicitor. + </p> + <p> + Rather glad of anything that might help to occupy her thoughts, she + decided to investigate the bureau at once, and accordingly made her way to + Patrick's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + On the threshold she paused, her heart contracting painfully as the spick + and span aspect of the room, its ordered absence of any trace of + occupation, reminded her that its one-time owner would never again have + any further need of it. + </p> + <p> + Everything in the house seemed to present her grief to her anew, from some + fresh angle, forcing comparison of what had been with what was—the + wheeled chair, standing vacant in one of the lobbies, the tobacco jar + perched upon the chimney-piece, the pot of heliotrope—Patrick's + favourite blossom—scenting the library with its fragrance. + </p> + <p> + And now his room—empty, swept, and garnished like any one of the + score or so of spare bedrooms in the house! + </p> + <p> + With an effort, Sara forced herself to enter it. Crossing to the window, + she pulled a chair up to the Chippendale bureau and unlocked it. Then she + drew out the sliding desk supports and laid back the flap of polished + mahogany that served as a writing-table. She was conscious of a fleeting + sense of admiration for the fine-grained wood and for the smooth “feel” of + the old brass handles, worn by long usage, then her whole attention was + riveted by the three things which were all the contents of the desk—a + packet of letters, stained and yellowing with age and tied together with a + broad, black ribbon, a jeweller's velvet case stamped with faded gilt + lettering, and an envelope addressed to herself in Patrick's handwriting. + </p> + <p> + Very gently, with that tender reverence we accord to the sad little + possessions of our dead, Sara gathered them up and carried them to her own + sitting-room. She felt she could not stay to examine them in that + strangely empty, lifeless room that had been Patrick's; the terrible, + chill silence of it seemed to beat against the very heart of her. + </p> + <p> + Laying aside the jeweller's case and the package of letters, she opened + the envelope which bore her name and drew out a folded sheet of paper, + covered with Patrick's small, characteristic writing. Impulsively she + brushed it with her lips, then, leaning back in her chair, began to read, + her expression growing curiously intent as she absorbed the contents of + the letter. Once she smiled, and more than once a sudden rush of unbidden + tears blurred the closely written lines in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “When you receive this, little pal Sara”—ran the letter—“I + shall have done with this world. Except that it means leaving you, my + dear, I shall be glad to go, for I'm a very tired man. So, when it comes, + you must try not to grudge me my 'long leave.' But there are several + things you ought to know, and which I want you to know, yet I have never + been able to bring myself to speak of them to you. To tell you about them + meant digging into the past—and very often there is a hot coal + lingering in the heart of a dead fire that is apt to burn the fingers of + whoever rakes out the ashes. Frankly, then, I funked it. But now the time + has come when I can't put it off any longer. + </p> + <p> + “Little old pal, have you ever wondered why I loved you so much—why + you stood so close to my heart? I used to tease you and say it was because + we were no relation to each other, didn't I? If you had been really my + niece, proper respect (on your part, of course, for your aged uncle!) and + the barrier of a generation would have set us the usual miles apart. But + there was never anything of that with us, was there? I bullied you, I + know, when you needed it, but we were always comrades. And to me, you were + something more than a comrade, something almost sacred and always adorable—the + child of the woman I loved. + </p> + <p> + “For we should have been married, Sara, your mother and I, had I not been + a poor man. We were engaged, but at that time, I was only a younger son, + with a younger son's meager portion, and the prospect of my falling heir + to Barrow seemed of all things the most improbable. And Pauline + Malincourt, your mother, had been taught to abhor the idea of living on + small means—trained to regard her beauty and breeding as marketable + assets, to go to the highest bidder. For, although her parents came of + fine old stock—there's no better blood in England than the + Malincourt strain, my dear—they were deadly hard-up. So hard-up, + that when they died—as the result of a carriage accident which + occurred a week after Pauline's marriage—they left nothing behind + them but debts which your father liquidated. + </p> + <p> + “Of your father, Caleb Tennant, the millionaire, I will not write, seeing + that, after all, you are his child. It is enough to say that he was a hard + man, and that he and your mother led a very unhappy life together, so + unhappy that at last she left him, choosing rather to live in utter + poverty than remain with him. He never forgave her for leaving him, and + when he died, he willed every penny he possessed to some scoundrelly + cousin of his—who is presumably enjoying the inheritance which + should have been yours. + </p> + <p> + “That is your family history, my dear, and it is right that you should + know it—and know what you have to fight against. To be a Malincourt + is at once to have a curse and a blessing hung round your neck. The + Malincourts were originally of French extraction—descendants of the + <i>haute noblesse</i> of old France—cursed with the devil's own + pride and passionate self-will, and blessed with looks and brains and + charm above the average. They never bend; they break sooner. And I think + you've got the lot, Sara—the full inheritance. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother was a true Malincourt. She could not bend, and when things + went awry, she broke. + </p> + <p> + “You must never think hardly of her, for she had been brought up in that + atmosphere of almost desperate pride which is too frequently the curse of + the poverty-stricken aristocrat. She made a ghastly mistake, and paid for + it afterwards every day of her life. And she was urged into it by her + father, who declined to recognize me in any way, and by her mother, who + made her life at home a simple hell—as a clever society woman can + make of any young girl's life if she chooses. + </p> + <p> + “Just before she died, she sent for me and gave you into my care, begging + me to shield you from spoiling your life as she had spoiled hers. + </p> + <p> + “I've done what I could. You are at least independent. No one can drive + you with the spur of poverty into selling yourself, as she was driven. But + there are a hundred other rocks in life against which you may wreck your + happiness, and remember, in the long run, you sink or swim by your own + force of character. + </p> + <p> + “And when love comes to you, <i>as it will come</i>,—for no woman + with your eyes and your mouth ever yet lived a loveless life!—never + forget that it is the biggest thing in the world, the one altogether good + and perfect gift. Don't let any twopenny-halfpenny considerations of + worldly advantage influence you, nor the tittle-tattle of other folks, and + even if it seems that something insurmountable lies between you and the + fulfillment of love, go over it, or round it, or through it! If it's a + real love, your faith must be big enough to remove the mountains in the + way—or to go over them. + </p> + <p> + “The package of letters you will find in the bureau were those your mother + wrote to me during the few short weeks we belonged to each other. I'm a + sentimental old fool, and I've never been able to bring myself to burn + them. Will you do this for me? + </p> + <p> + “In the little velvet case you will find her miniature, which I give to + you. It is very like her—and like you, too, for you resemble her + wonderfully in appearance. Often, to look at you has made my heart ache; + sometimes it almost seemed as if the years had rolled back and Pauline + herself stood before me. + </p> + <p> + “And now that the order for release is on its way to me, it is rather + wonderful to reflect that in a few weeks—a few days, perhaps—I + shall be seeing her again. . . . + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, little pal of mine. We've had some good times together, haven't + we? + </p> + <p> + “Your devoted, PATRICK.” + </p> + <p> + Sara sat very still, the letter clasped in her hand. She had always + secretly believed that some long-dead romance lay behind Patrick's + bachelorhood, but she had never suspected that her own mother had been the + woman he had loved. + </p> + <p> + The knowledge illumined all the past with a fresh light, investing it with + a tender, reminiscent sentiment. It was easy now to understand the almost + idyllic atmosphere Patrick had infused into their life together. Sara + recognized it as the outcome of a love and fidelity as beautiful and + devoted as it is rare. Patrick's love for her mother had partaken of the + enduring qualities of the great passions of history. Paolo and Francesca, + Abelard and Heloise—even they could have known no deeper, no more + lasting love than that of Patrick Lovell for Pauline. + </p> + <p> + The love-letters of the dead woman lay on Sara's lap, still tied together + with the black ribbon which Patrick's fingers must have knotted round + them. There were only six of them—half-a-dozen memories of a love + that had come hopelessly to grief—tangible memories which her lover + had never had the heart to destroy. + </p> + <p> + Sara handled them caressingly, these few, pathetic records of a bygone + passion, and at length, with hands that shook a little, she removed the + ribbon that bound them together. Where it had lain, preserving the strip + of paper beneath it from contact with the dust, bands of white traversed + the faint discoloration which time had worked upon the outermost envelopes—mutely + witnessing to the long years that had passed away since the letters had + been penned in the first rapturous glow of hot young love. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, with a rather wistful sense of regret that it must needs be done, + Sara dropped them one by one, unread, into the fire, and watched them + flare up with a sudden spurt of flame, then curl and shrivel into dead, + grey ash—those last links with the romance of his youth which + Patrick had treasured so long and faithfully. + </p> + <p> + She wondered what manner of woman her mother could have been to inspire so + great a love that even her own unfaith had failed to sour it. Her childish + recollection, blurred by the passage of years, was of a white-faced, + rather haggard-looking woman with deep-set, haunted eyes and a bitter + mouth, but whose rare smile, when it came, was so enchanting that it wiped + out, for the moment, all remembrance of the harsh lines which hardened her + face when in repose. + </p> + <p> + With eager hands the girl picked up the little velvet case that held the + miniature, and snapped open the lid. The painting within, rimmed in old + paste, was of a girl in her early twenties. The face was oval, with a + small, pointed chin and a vivid red mouth, curling up at the corners. + There was little colour in the cheeks, and the black hair and + extraordinarily dark eyes served to enhance the creamy pallor of the skin. + It was not altogether an English face; the cheek-bones were too high, and + there was a definiteness of colouring, a decisive sharpness of outline in + the piquant features, not often found in a purely English type. + </p> + <p> + Seen thus, the face looked strangely familiar to Sara, and yet no memory + of hers could recall her mother as she must have been at the time this + portrait was painted. + </p> + <p> + The miniature still in her hand, she moved hesitatingly to a mirror, so + placed that the light from the window fell full upon her as she faced it. + In a moment the odd sense of familiarity was explained. There, looking + back at her from the mirror, was the same sharply angled face, the same + warm ivory pallor of complexion, accentuated by raven hair and black, + sombre eyes. What was it Patrick had written? “<i>No woman with your eyes + and your mouth ever yet lived a loveless life.</i>” + </p> + <p> + With a curious deliberation, Sara examined the features in question. The + eyes were long, and the lids, opaquely white and fringed with jet-black + lashes, slanted downwards a little at the outer corners, bestowing a + curiously intense expression, such as one sometimes sees in the eyes of an + actor, and the mouth was the same vividly scarlet mouth of the face in the + miniature, at once passionate and sensitive. + </p> + <p> + The French strain in the Malincourt family had reproduced itself + indubitably, both in the appearance of Pauline and of Pauline's daughter. + Would the mother's tragedy, fruit of her singular charm and of a pride + which had accorded love but a secondary place in her scheme of life, also + be re-enacted in the case of the daughter? It seemed almost as though + Patrick must have had pre-vision of some like fiery ordeal though which + his “little old pal” might have to pass, so urgent had been the warning he + had uttered. + </p> + <p> + Sara shivered, as if she, too, felt a prescience of coming disaster. It + was as though a shadow had fallen across her path, a shadow of which the + substance lay hidden, shrouded in the mists which veil the future. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <h3> + ELISABETH—AND HER SON + </h3> + <p> + The entrance to Barrow Court was somewhat forbidding. A flight of shallow + granite steps, flanked by balustrades of the same austere substance, + terminating in huge, rough-hewn pillars, led up to an enormous door of + ancient oak, studded with nails—destined, it would seem, to resist + the onslaught of an armed multitude. The sternness of its aspect, when the + great door was closed, seemed to add an increased warmth to the suggestion + of welcome it conveyed when, as now, it was swung hospitably open, + emitting a ruddy glow of firelight from the hall beyond. + </p> + <p> + Sara was standing at the top of the granite steps, waiting to greet the + Durwards, whose approach was already heralded by the humming of a motor + far down the avenue. + </p> + <p> + A faint regret disquieted her. This was the last—the very last—time + she would stand at the head of those stairs in the capacity of a hostess + welcoming her guests; and even now her position there was merely an + honorary one! In a few minutes, when Mrs. Durward should step across the + threshold, it was she who would be transformed into the hostess, while + Sara would have to take her place as a simple guest in the house which for + twelve years had been her home. + </p> + <p> + Thrusting the thought determinedly aside, she watched the big limousine + swing smoothly round the curve of the drive and pull up in front of the + house, and there was no trace of reluctance in the smile of greeting which + she summoned up for Major Durward's benefit as he alighted and came + towards her with outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “But where are the others?” asked Sara, seeing that the chauffeur + immediately headed the car for the garage. + </p> + <p> + “They're coming along on foot,” explained Durward. “Elisabeth declared + they should see nothing of the place cooped up in the car, so they got out + at the lodge and are walking across the park.” + </p> + <p> + Sara preceded him into the hall, and they stood chatting together by the + tea-table until the sound of voices announced the arrival of the rest of + the party. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are!” exclaimed Durward, hurrying forward to meet them, while + Sara followed a trifle hesitatingly, conscious of a sudden accession of + shyness. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the charming letter she had received from Mrs. Durward, + begging her to remain at Barrow Court exactly as long as it suited her, + now that the moment had come which would actually install the new mistress + of the Court, she began to feel as though her continued presence there + might be regarded rather in the light of an intrusion. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Durward's letter might very well have been dictated only by a certain + superficial politeness, or, even, solely at the instance of her husband, + and it was conceivable that the writer would be none too pleased that her + invitation had been so literally interpreted. + </p> + <p> + In the course of a few seconds of time Sara contrived to work herself up + into a condition bordering upon panic. And then a very low contralto + voice, indescribably sweet, and with an audacious ripple of laughter + running through it, swept all her scruples into the rubbish heap. There + was no doubting the sincerity of the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “It was so nice of you not to run away, Miss Tennant.” As she spoke, Mrs. + Durward shook hands cordially. “Poor Geoffrey couldn't help being the + heir, you know, and if you'd refused to stay, he'd have felt just like the + villain in a cinema film. You've saved us from becoming the crawling, + self-reproachful wretches.” Then she turned and beckoned to her son. “This + is Tim,” she said simply, but the quality of her voice was very much as + though she had announced: “This is the sun, and moon, and stars.” + </p> + <p> + As mother and son stood side by side, Sara's first impression was that she + had never seen two more beautiful people. They were both tall, and a kind + of radiance seemed to envelope them—a glory imparted by the sheer + force of perfect symmetry and health—and, in the case of the former + of the two, there was an added charm in a certain little air of + stateliness and distinction which characterized her movements. + </p> + <p> + Patrick's reminiscent comment on Elisabeth Durward recalled itself to + Sara's mind: “I think she was one of the most beautiful women I have ever + seen,” and she recognized that almost any one might have truthfully + subscribed to the same opinion. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Durward must have been at least forty years of age—arguing from + the presence of the six foot of young manhood whom she called son—but + her appearance was still that of a woman who had not long passed her + thirtieth milestone. The supple lines of her figure held the merest + suggestion of maturity in their gracious curves, and the rich chestnut + hair, swathed round her small, fine head, gleamed with the sheen which + only youth or immense vitality bestows. Her skin was of that almost + dazzling purity which is so often found in conjunction with reddish hair, + and the defect of over-light brows and lashes, which not infrequently mars + the type, was conspicuously absent. Her eyes were arresting. They were of + a deep, hyacinth blue, very luminous and soft, and quite beautiful. But + they held a curiously veiled expression—a something guarded and + inscrutable—as though they hid some secret inner knowledge + sentinelled from the world at large. + </p> + <p> + Sara, meeting their still, enigmatic gaze, was subtly conscious of an odd + sense of repulsion, almost amounting to dread, and then Elisabeth, making + some trivial observation as she moved nearer to the fire, smiled across at + her, and, in the extraordinary charm of her smile, the momentary sensation + of fear was forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, it was with a feeling of relief that Sara encountered the + gay, frank glance of the son. + </p> + <p> + Tim Durward, though dowered to the full with his mother's beauty, had yet + been effectually preserved from the misfortune of being an effeminate + repetition of her. In him, Elisabeth's glowing auburn colouring had + sobered to a steady brown—evidenced in the crisp, curly hair and + sun-tanned skin; and the misty hyacinth-blue of her eyes had hardened in + the eyes of her son into the clear, bright azure of the sea, whist the + beautiful contours of her face, repeated in his, had strengthened into a + fine young virility. + </p> + <p> + “I can't cure mother of introducing me as if I were the Lord Mayor,” he + murmured plaintively to Sara as they sat down to tea. “I suppose it's the + penalty of being an only son.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort,” asserted Elisabeth composedly. “Naturally I'm + pleased with you—you're so absurdly like me. I always look upon you + in the light of a perpetual compliment, because you've elected to grow up + like me instead of like Geoffrey”—nodding towards her husband. + “After all, you had us both to choose from.” + </p> + <p> + Tim shouted with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to her, Miss Tennant! And for years I've been mistaking mere + vulgar female vanity for maternal solicitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, you're a very poor compliment,” threw in Major Durward, with an + expressive glance at his wife's beautiful face. It was obvious that he + worshipped her, and she smiled across at him, blushing adorably, just like + a girl of sixteen. + </p> + <p> + Tim turned to Sara with a grimace. + </p> + <p> + “It's a great trial, Miss Tennant, to be blessed with two parents—” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite usual,” interpolated Geoffrey mildly. + </p> + <p> + “Two parents,” continued Tim, firmly ignoring him, “who are hopelessly, + besottedly in love with each other. Instead of being—as I ought to + be—the apple of their eye—of both their eyes—I'm merely + the shadowy third.” + </p> + <p> + Sara surveyed his goodly proportions consideringly. + </p> + <p> + “No one would have suspected it,” she assured him; and Tim grinned + appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “If you stay with us long,” he replied, “as I hope”—impressively—“you + will, you'll soon perceive how utterly I am neglected. Perhaps”—his + face brightening—“you may be moved to take pity on my solitude—quite + frequently.” + </p> + <p> + “Tim, stop being an idiot,” interposed his mother placidly, holding out + her cup, “and ask Miss Tennant to give me another lump of sugar.” + </p> + <p> + The advent of the Durwards, breaking in upon her enforced solitude, helped + very considerably to arouse Sara from the natural depression into which + she had fallen after Patrick's death. With their absurdly large share of + good looks, their charmingly obvious attachment to each other, and their + enthusiastic, unconventional hospitality towards such an utter stranger as + herself, devoid of any real claim upon them, she found the trio + unexpectedly interesting and delightful. They had hailed her as a friend, + and her frank, warm-hearted nature responded instantly, speedily according + each of them a special niche in her regard. She felt as though Providence + had suddenly endowed her with a whole family—“all complete and ready + for use,” as Tim cheerfully observed—and the reaction from the + oppressive consciousness of being entirely alone in the world acted like a + tonic. + </p> + <p> + The first brief sentiment of aversion which she had experienced towards + Elisabeth melted like snow in sunshine under the daily charm of her + companionship; and though the hyacinth eyes held always in their depths + that strange suggestion of mystery, Sara grew to believe it must be merely + some curious effect incidental to the colour and shape of the eyes + themselves, rather than an indication of the soul that looked out of them. + </p> + <p> + There was something perennially captivating about Elisabeth. An atmosphere + of romance enveloped her, engendering continuous interest and surmise, and + Sara found it wholly impossible to view her from an ordinary prosaic + standpoint. Occasionally she would recall the fact that Mrs. Durward was + in reality a woman of over forty, mother of a grown-up son who, according + to all the usages of custom, should be settling down into the drab and + placid backwater of middle age, but she realized that the description went + ludicrously wide of the mark. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing in the least drab about Elisabeth, nor would there ever + be. She was full of colour and brilliance, reminding one of a great + glowing-hearted rose in its prime. + </p> + <p> + Part of her charm, undoubtedly, lay in her attitude towards husband and + son. She was still as romantically in love with Major Durward as any girl + in her teens, and she adored Tim quite openly. + </p> + <p> + Inevitably, perhaps, there was a touch of the spoilt woman about her, + since both men combined to indulge her in every whim. Nevertheless, there + was nothing either small or petty in her willfulness. It was rather the + superb, stately arrogance of a queen, and she was kindness itself to Sara. + </p> + <p> + But the largest share of credit in restoring the latter to a more normal + and less highly strung condition was due to Tim, who gravitated towards + her with the facility common to natural man when he finds himself for any + length of time under the same roof with an attractive young person of the + opposite sex. He had an engaging habit of appearing at the door of Sara's + sitting-room with an ingratiating: “I say, may I come in for a yarn?” And, + upon receiving permission, he would establish himself on the hearth-rug at + her feet and proceed to prattle to her about his own affairs, much as a + brother might have done to a favourite sister, and with an equal assurance + that his confidences would be met with sympathetic interest. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with yourself, Tim?” asked Sara one day, as he + sprawled in blissful indolence on the great bearskin in front of her fire, + pulling happily at a beloved old pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Do with myself?” he repeated. “What do you mean? I'm doing very + comfortably just at present”—glancing round him appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “I mean—what are you going to be? Aren't you going to enter any + profession?” + </p> + <p> + Tim sat up suddenly, removing his pipe from his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + “But why not? You can't slack about here for ever, doing nothing. I should + have thought you would have gone into the Army, like your father.” + </p> + <p> + His blue eyes hardened. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I wanted to do,” he said gruffly. “But the mother wouldn't + hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + Sara could sense the pain in his suddenly roughened tones. + </p> + <p> + “But why? You'd make a splendid soldier, Tim”—eyeing his long length + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “I should have loved it,” he said wistfully. “I wanted it more than + anything. But mother worried so frightfully whenever I suggested the idea + that I had to give it up. I'm to learn to be a landowner and squire and + all that sort of tosh instead.” + </p> + <p> + “But that could come later.” + </p> + <p> + Tim shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it could. But mother refused point-blank to let me go to + Sandhurst. So now, unless a war crops up—and it doesn't look as + though there's much chance of that!—I'm out of the running. But if + it ever does, Sara”—he laid his hand eagerly on her knee—“I + swear I'll be one of the first to volunteer. I was a fool to give in to + the mother over the matter, only she was simply making herself ill about + it, and, of course, I couldn't stand that.” + </p> + <p> + Sara wondered why Mrs. Durward should have interfered to prevent her son + from following what was obviously his natural bent. It would have seemed + almost inevitable that, as a soldier's son, he should enter one or other + of the Services, and instead, here he was, stranded in a little country + backwater, simply eating his heart out. Mentally she determined to broach + the subject to Elisabeth as soon as an opportunity presented itself; but + for the moment she skillfully drew the conversation away from what was + evidently a sore subject, and suggested that Tim should accompany her into + Fallowdene, where she had an errand at the post office. He assented + eagerly, with a shake of his broad shoulders as though to rid himself of + the disagreeable burden of his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + From the window of his wife's sitting-room Major Durward watched the two + as they started on their way to the village, evidently on the best of + terms with one another, a placid smile spreading beneficently over his + face as they vanished round the corner of the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + “Anything in it, do you think?” he asked, seeing that Elisabeth's gaze had + pursued the same course. + </p> + <p> + “It's impossible to say,” she answered quietly. “Tim imagines himself to + be falling in love, I don't doubt; but at twenty-two a boy imagines + himself in love with half the girls he meets.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't,” declared Geoffrey promptly. “I fell in love with you at the + mature age of nineteen—and I never fell out again.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth flashed him a charming smile. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Tim may follow in your footsteps, then,” she suggested serenely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, would you be pleased?” persisted her husband, jerking his head + explanatorily in the direction in which Sara and Tim had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “I shall always be pleased with the woman who makes Tim happy,” she + answered simply. + </p> + <p> + Durward was silent a moment; then he returned to the attack. + </p> + <p> + “She's a very pretty young woman, don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Sara? No, I shouldn't call her exactly pretty. Her face is too thin, and + strong, and eager. But she is a very uncommon type—like a black and + white etching, and immensely attractive.” + </p> + <p> + It was several days before Sara was able to introduce the topic of Tim's + profession, but she contrived it one afternoon when she and Elisabeth were + sitting together awaiting the return of the two men for tea. + </p> + <p> + “It will be profession enough for Tim to look after the property,” + Elisabeth made answer. “He can act as agent for his father to some extent, + and relieve him of a great deal of necessary business that has to be + transacted.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke with a certain finality which made it difficult to pursue the + subject, but Sara, remembering Tim's suddenly hard young eyes, persisted. + </p> + <p> + “It's a pity he cannot go into the Army—he's so keen on it,” she + suggested tentatively. + </p> + <p> + A curious change came over Elisabeth's face. It seemed to Sara as though a + veil had descended, from behind which the inscrutable eyes were watching + her warily. But the response was given lightly enough. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, one of the family in the Service is enough. I should see so little of + my Tim if he became a soldier—only an occasional 'leave.'” + </p> + <p> + “He would make a very good soldier,” said Sara. “To my mind, it's the + finest profession in the world for any man.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” Elisabeth spoke coldly. “There are many risks attached + to it.” + </p> + <p> + Sara experienced a revulsion of feeling; she had not expected Elisabeth to + be of the fearful type of woman. Women of splendid physique and abounding + vitality are rarely obsessed by craven apprehensions. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think the risks would count with Tim,” she said warmly. “He has + any amount of pluck.” And then she stared at Elisabeth in amazement. A + sudden haggardness had overspread the elder woman's face, the faint + shell-pink that usually flushed her cheeks draining away and leaving them + milk-white. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied in stifled tones. “I don't suppose Tim's a coward. But”—more + lightly—“I think I am. I—don't think I care for the Army as a + profession. Tim is my only child,” she added self-excusingly. “I can't let + him run risks—of any kind.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, an odd foreboding seized hold of Sara. It was as though the + secret dread of <i>something</i>—she could not tell what—which + held the mother had communicated itself to her. + </p> + <p> + She shivered. Then, the impression fading as quickly as it had come, she + spoke defiantly, as if trying to reassure herself. + </p> + <p> + “There aren't many risks in these piping times of peace. Soldiers don't + die in battle nowadays; they retire on a pension.” + </p> + <p> + “Die in battle! Did you think I was afraid of that?” There was a sudden + fierce contempt in Elisabeth's voice. + </p> + <p> + Sara looked at her with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you?” she said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth seemed about to make some passionate rejoinder. Then, all at + once, she checked herself, and again Sara was conscious of that curiously + secretive expression in her eyes, as though she were on guard. + </p> + <p> + “There are many things worse than death,” she said evasively, and + deliberately turned the conversation into other channels. + </p> + <p> + During the days that followed, Sara became aware of a faintly perceptible + difference in her relations with Elisabeth. The latter was still just as + charming as ever, but she seemed, in some inexplicable way, to have set a + limit to their intimacy—defined a boundary line which she never + intended to be overstepped. + </p> + <p> + It was as though she felt that she had allowed Sara to approach too nearly + some inner sanctum which she had hitherto guarded securely from all + intrusion, and now hastened to erect a barricade against a repetition of + the offence. + </p> + <p> + More than once, lately, Sara had broached the subject of her impending + departure from Barrow, only to have the suggestion incontinently brushed + aside by Major Durward, who declared that he declined to discuss any such + disagreeable topic. But now, sensitively conscious that she had troubled + Elisabeth's peace in some way, she decided to make definite arrangements + regarding her immediate future. + </p> + <p> + She was agreeably surprised, when she propounded her idea, to find Mrs. + Durward seemed quite as unwilling to part with her as were both her + husband and son. Apparently the alteration in her manner, with its + curiously augmented reticence, was no indication of any personal + antipathy, and Sara felt proportionately relieved, although somewhat + mystified. + </p> + <p> + “We shall all miss you,” averred Elisabeth, and there was absolute + sincerity in her tones. “I don't see why you need be in such a hurry to + run away from us.” And Geoffrey and Tim chorused approval. + </p> + <p> + Sara beamed upon them all with humid eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It's dear of you to want me to stay with you,” she declared. “But, don't + you see, I <i>must</i> live my own life—have a roof-tree of my own? + I can't just sit down comfortably in the shade of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Pushful young woman!” chaffed Geoffrey. “Well, I can see your mind is + made up. So what are your plans? Let's hear them.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of taking rooms for a while with some really nice people—gentlefolk + who wanted to take a paying guest—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor but honest, in fact,” supplemented Geoffrey. + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You see”—smiling—“you people have spoiled me for living + alone, and as I'm really rather a solitary individual, I must find a + little niche for myself somewhere.” She unfolded a letter she was holding. + “I thought I should like to go near the sea—to some quite tiny + country place at the back of beyond. And I think I've found just the + thing. I saw an advertisement for a paying guest—of the female + persuasion—so I replied to it, and I've just had an answer to my + letter. It's from a doctor man—a Dr. Selwyn, at Monkshaven—who + has an invalid wife and one daughter, and he writes such an original kind + of epistle that I'm sure I should like him.” + </p> + <p> + Geoffrey held out his hand for the letter, running his eyes down its + contents, while his wife, receiving an assenting nod from Sara in response + to her “May I?” looked over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Only Tim appeared to take no interest in the matter, but remained standing + rather aloof, staring out of the window, his back to the trio grouped + around the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “'Household . . . myself, wife, one daughter,'” muttered Geoffrey. “Um-um—'quarter + of a mile from the sea'—um——'As you will have guessed + from the fact of my advertising'”—here he began to read aloud—“'we + are not too lavishly blessed with this world's goods. Our house is roomy + and comfortable, though abominably furnished. But I can guarantee the + climate, and there are plenty of nicer people than ourselves in the + neighbourhood. It wouldn't be fitting for me to blow our own particular + household trumpet—nor, to tell the truth, is it always calculated to + give forth melodious sounds; but if the other considerations I have + mentioned commend themselves to you, I suggest that you come down and make + trial of us.'” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think he sounds just delightful?” queried Sara. + </p> + <p> + Manlike, Geoffrey shook his head disapprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't,” he said decisively. “That's the most unbusinesslike letter + I've ever read.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> like it very much,” announced Elisabeth with equal decision. + “The man writes just as he thinks—perfectly frankly and naturally. I + should go and give them a trial as he suggests. Sara, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I feel inclined to do,” replied Sara. “I thought it a + delicious letter.” + </p> + <p> + Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders resignedly. + </p> + <p> + “Then, of course, if you two women have made up your minds that the man's + a natural saint, I may as well hold my peace. What's the fellow's address?—I'll + look him up in the Medical Directory. Richard Selwyn, Sunnyside, + Monkshaven—that right?” + </p> + <p> + He departed to the library in search of Dr. Selywn's credentials, + presently returning with a somewhat rueful grin on his face. + </p> + <p> + “He seems all right—rather a clever man, judging by his degrees and + the appointments he has held,” he acknowledged grudgingly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he's all right, asserted Sara firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Although I don't understand why such a good man at his job should be + practicing in a little one-horse place like Monkshaven,” retorted Geoffrey + maliciously. + </p> + <p> + “Probably he went there on account of his wife's health,” suggested + Elisabeth. “He says she is an invalid.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well”—Geoffrey yielded unwillingly—“I suppose you'll go, + Sara. But if the experiment isn't a success you must come back to us at + once. Is that a bargain?” + </p> + <p> + Sara hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Promise,” commanded Geoffrey. “Or”—firmly—“I'm hanged if we + let you go at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” agreed Sara meekly. “I'll promise.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope the experiment will be an utter failure,” observed Tim, later on, + when he and Sara were alone together. He spoke with an oddly curt—almost + inimical—inflection in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Now that's unkind of you, Tim,” she protested smilingly. “I thought you + were a good enough pal not to want to chortle over me—as I know + Geoffrey will—should the thing turn out a frost!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not, then,” he returned roughly. + </p> + <p> + The churlish tones were so unlike Tim that Sara looked up at him in some + amazement. He was staring down at her with a strange, <i>awakened</i> + expression in his eyes; his face was very white and his mouth working. + </p> + <p> + With a sudden apprehension of what was impending, she sprang up, + stretching out her hand as though to ward it off. + </p> + <p> + “No—no, Tim. It isn't—don't say it's that——” + </p> + <p> + He caught her hand and held it between both his. + </p> + <p> + “But it <i>is</i> that,” he said, speaking very fast, the serenity of his + face all broken up by the surge of emotion that had gripped him. “It is + that. I love you. I didn't know it till you spoke of going away. Sara—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” She broke in hastily. “Don't say any more, Tim—please + don't!” + </p> + <p> + In the silence that followed the two young faces peered at each other—the + one desperate with love, the other full of infinite regret and pleading. + </p> + <p> + At last— + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, then?” said Tim dully. “You don't care?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I don't—not like that. I thought we were friends—just + friends, Tim,” she urged. + </p> + <p> + Tim lifted his head, and she saw that somehow, in the last few minutes, he + had grown suddenly older. His gay, smiling mouth had set itself sternly; + the beautiful boyish face had become a man's. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so, too,” he said gently. “But I know now that what I feel for + you isn't friendship. It's”—with a short, grim laugh—“something + much more than that. Tell me, Sara—will there ever be any chance for + me?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. She was so genuinely fond of him that she hated to give him + pain. Looking at him, standing before her in his splendid young manhood, + she wondered irritably why she <i>didn't</i> love him. He was + pre-eminently loveable. + </p> + <p> + He caught eagerly at her hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Don't answer me now!” he said swiftly. “I'll wait—give me a chance. + I can't take no . . . I won't take it!” he went on masterfully. “I love + you!” Impetuously he slipped his strong young arms about her and kissed + her on the mouth. + </p> + <p> + The previous moment she had been all softness and regret, but now, at the + sudden passion in his voice, something within her recoiled violently, + repudiating the claim his love had made upon her. + </p> + <p> + Sara was the last woman in the world to be taken by storm. She was too + individual, her sense of personal independence too strongly developed, for + her ever to be swept off her feet by a passion to which her own heart + offered no response. Instead, it roused her to a definite consciousness of + opposition, and she drew herself away from Tim's eager arms with a + decision there was no mistaking. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Tim,” she said quietly. “But it's no good pretending I'm in + love with you. I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with moody, dissatisfied eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I've spoken too soon,” he said. “I should have waited. Only I was + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” He spoke uncertainly. “I've had a feeling that if I let you go, + you'll meet some man down there, at Monkshaven, who'll want to marry you . + . . And I shall lose you! . . . Oh, Sara! I don't ask you to say you love + me—yet. Say that you'll marry me . . . I'd teach you the rest—you'd + learn to love me.” + </p> + <p> + But that fierce, unpremeditated kiss—the first lover's kiss that she + had known—had endowed her with a sudden clarity of vision. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered steadily. “I don't know much about love, Tim, but I'm + very sure it's no use trying to manufacture it to order, and—listen, + Tim, dear,” the pain in his face making her suddenly all tenderness again—“if + I married you, and afterwards you <i>couldn't</i> teach me as you think + you could, we should only be wretched together.” + </p> + <p> + “I could never be wretched if you were my wife,” he answered doggedly. + “I've love enough for two.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, Tim. Don't let's spoil a good friendship by turning it into a + one-sided love-affair.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled rather grimly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it's too late to prevent that,” he said drily. “But I won't + worry you any more now, dear. Only—I'm not going to accept your + answer as final.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would,” she urged. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her curiously. “No man who loves you, Sara, is going to give + you up very easily,” he averred. Then, after a moment: “you'll let me + write to you sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded soberly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but not love-letters, Tim.” + </p> + <p> + “No—not love-letters.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted her hands and kissed first one and then the other. Then, with + his head well up and his shoulders squared, he went away. + </p> + <p> + But the sea-blue eyes that had been wont to look out on the world so gaily + had suddenly lost their care-free bravery. They were the eyes of a man who + has looked for the first time into the radiant, sorrowful face of Love, + and read therein all the possibilities—the glory and the pain and + the supreme happiness—which Love holds. + </p> + <p> + And Sara, standing alone and regretful that the friend had been lost in + the lover, never guessed that Tim's love was a thread which was destined + to cross and re-cross those other threads held by the fingers of Fate + until it had tangled the whole fabric of her life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <h3> + THE MAN IN THE TRAIN + </h3> + <p> + “Oldhampton! Oldhampton! Change here for Motchley and Monkshaven!” + </p> + <p> + It was with a sigh of relief that Sara, in obedience to the warning + raucously intoned by a hurrying porter, vacated her seat in the railway + compartment in which she had travelled from Fallowdene. Her companions on + the journey had been an elderly spinster and her maid, and as the former + had insisted upon the exclusion of every breath of outside air, Sara felt + half-suffocated by the time they ran into Oldhampton Junction. The + Monkshaven train was already standing in the station, and, commissioning a + porter to transfer her luggage, she sauntered leisurely along the + platform, searching vainly for an empty compartment, where the regulation + of the supply of oxygen would not depend upon the caprice of an old maid. + </p> + <p> + The train appeared to be very full, but at last she espied a first-class + smoking carriage which boasted but a single occupant—a man in the + far corner, half-hidden behind the newspaper he was holding—and, + tipping her porter, she stepped into the compartment and busied herself + bestowing her hand-baggage in the rack. + </p> + <p> + The man in the corner abruptly lowered his newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “This be a smoker,” he remarked significantly. + </p> + <p> + Sara turned at the sound of his voice. The unwelcoming tones made it + abundantly clear that the remainder of his thought ran: “And you've no + business to get into it.” A spark of amusement lit itself in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The railway company indicate as much on the window,” she replied + placidly, with a glance towards the <i>Smoking Carriage</i> label pasted + against the pane. + </p> + <p> + There came no response, unless an irritated crackling of newspaper could + be regarded as such—and the next moment, to the accompaniment of + much banging of doors and a final shout of: “Stand away there!” the train + began to move slowly out of the station. + </p> + <p> + Sara sat down with a sigh of relief that she had escaped her former + travelling companions, with their unpleasant predilection for a vitiated + atmosphere, and her thoughts wandered idly to the consideration of the man + in the corner, to whom she was obviously an equally unwelcome + fellow-passenger. + </p> + <p> + He had retired once more behind his newspaper, and practically all that + was offered for her contemplation consisted of a pair of knee-breeches and + well-cut leather leggings and two strong-looking, sun-tanned hands. These + latter intrigued Sara considerably—their long, sensitive fingers and + short, well-kept nails according curiously with their sunburnt suggestion + of great physical strength and an outdoor life. She wished their owner + would see fit to lower his newspaper once more, since her momentary + glimpse of his face had supplied her with but little idea of his + personality. And the hands, so full of contradictory suggestion, aroused + her interest. + </p> + <p> + As though in response to her thoughts, the newspaper suddenly crackled + down on to its owner's knees. + </p> + <p> + “I have every intention of smoking,” he announced aggressively. “This is a + smoking carriage.” + </p> + <p> + Sara, supported by the recollection of a dainty little gold and enamel + affair in her hand-bag, filled with some very special Russian cigarettes, + smiled amiably. + </p> + <p> + “I know it is,” she replied in unruffled tones. “That's why I got in. I, + too, have every intention of smoking.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her in silence for a moment, then, without further comment, + produced a pipe and tobacco pouch from the depths of a pocket, and + proceeded to fill the former, carefully pressing down the tobacco with the + tip of one of those slender, capable-looking fingers. + </p> + <p> + Sara observed him quickly. As he lounged there indolently in his corner, + she was aware of a subtle combination of strength and fine tempering in + the long, supple lines of his limbs—something that suggested the + quality of steel, hard, yet pliant. He had a lean, hard-bitten face, + tanned by exposure to the sun and wind, and the clean-shaven lips met with + a curious suggestion of bitter reticence in their firm closing. His hair + was brown—“plain brown” as Sara mentally characterized it—but + it had a redeeming kink in it and the crispness of splendid vitality. The + eyes beneath the straight, rather frowning brows were hazel, and, even in + the brief space of time occupied by the inimical colloquy of a few moments + ago, Sara had been struck by the peculiar intensity of their regard—an + odd depth and brilliance only occasionally to be met with, and then + preferably in those eyes which are a somewhat light grey in colour and + ringed round the outer edge of the iris with a deeper tint. + </p> + <p> + The flare of a match roused her from her half-idle, half-interested + contemplation of her fellow-passenger, and, as he lit his pipe, she was + sharply conscious that his oddly luminous eyes were regarding her with a + glint of irony in their depths. + </p> + <p> + Instantly she recalled his hostile reception of her entrance into the + compartment, and the defiantly given explanation she had tendered in + return. + </p> + <p> + Very deliberately she extracted her cigarette-case from her bag and + selected a cigarette, only to discover that she had not supplied herself + with a matchbox. She hunted assiduously amongst the assortment of odds and + ends the bag contained, but in vain, and finally, a little nettled that + her companion made no attempt to supply the obvious deficiency, she looked + up to find that he was once more, to all appearances, completely absorbed + in his newspaper. + </p> + <p> + Sara regarded him with indignation; in her own mind she was perfectly + convinced that he was aware of her quandary and had no mind to help her + out of it. Evidently he had not forgiven her intrusion into his solitude. + </p> + <p> + “Boor!” she ejaculated mentally. Then, aloud, and with considerable + acerbity: + </p> + <p> + “Could you oblige me with a match?” + </p> + <p> + With no show of alacrity, and with complete indifference of manner, he + produced a matchbox and handed it to her, immediately reverting to his + newspaper as though considerably bored by the interruption. + </p> + <p> + Sara flushed, and, having lit her cigarette, tendered him his matchbox + with an icy little word of thanks. + </p> + <p> + Apparently, however, he was quite unashamed of his churlishness, for he + accepted the box without troubling to raise his eyes from the page he was + reading, and the remainder of the journey to Monkshaven was accomplished + in an atmosphere that bristled with hostility. + </p> + <p> + As the train slowed up into the station, it became evident to Sara that + Monkshaven was also the destination of her travelling companion, for he + proceeded with great deliberation to fold up his newspaper and to hoist + his suit-case down from the rack. It did not seem to occur to him to + proffer his service to Sara, who was struggling with her own hand-luggage, + and the instant the train came to a standstill he opened the door of the + compartment, stopped out on to the platform, and marched away. + </p> + <p> + A gleam of amusement crossed her face. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder who he is?” she reflected, as she followed in the wake of a + porter in search of her trunks. “He certainly needs a lesson in manners.” + </p> + <p> + Within herself she registered a vindictive vow that, should the + circumstances of her residence in Monkshaven afford the opportunity, she + would endeavour to give him one. + </p> + <p> + Monkshaven was but a tiny little station, and it was soon apparent that no + conveyance of any kind had been sent to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “No, there would be none,” opined the porter of whom she inquired. “Dr. + Selwyn keeps naught but a little pony-trap, and he's most times using it + himself. But there's a 'bus from the Cliff Hotel meets all trains, miss, + and”—with pride—“there's a station keb.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes Sara was the proud—and thankful—occupant of + the “station keb,” and, after bumping over the cobbles with which the + station yard was paved, she found herself being driven in leisurely + fashion through the high street of the little town, whilst her driver, + sitting sideways on his box, indicated the points of interest with his + whip as they went along. + </p> + <p> + Presently the cab turned out of the town and began the ascent of a steep + hill, and as they climbed the winding road, Sara found that she could + glimpse the sea, rippling greyly beyond the town, and tufted with little + bunches of spume whipped into being by the keen March wind. The town + itself spread out before her, an assemblage of red and grey tiled roofs + sloping downwards to the curve of the bay, while, on the right, a bold + promontory thrust itself into the sea, grimly resisting the perpetual + onslaught of the wave. Through the waning light of the winter's afternoon, + Sara could discern the outline of a house limned against the dark + background of woods that crowned it. Linked to the jutting headland, a + long range of sea-washed cliffs stretched as far as the eyes could reach. + </p> + <p> + “That be Monk's Cliff,” vouchsafed the driver conversationally. “Bit of a + lonesome place for folks to choose to live at, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Who lives there?” asked Sara with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman of the name of Trent—queer kind of bloke he must be, too, + if all's true they say of 'im. He's lived there a matter of ten years or + more—lives by 'imself with just a man and his wife to do for 'im. + Far End, they calls the 'ouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Far End,” repeated Sara. The name conveyed an odd sense of remoteness and + inaccessibility. It seemed peculiarly appropriate to a house built thus on + the very edge of the mainland. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes rested musingly on the bleak promontory. It would be a fit abode, + she thought, for some recluse, determined to eschew the society of his + fellow-men; here he could dwell, solitary and apart, surrounded on three + sides by the grey, dividing sea, and protected on the fourth by the steep + untempting climb that lay betwixt the town and the lonely house on the + cliff. + </p> + <p> + “'Ere you are, miss. This is Dr. Selwyn's.” + </p> + <p> + The voice of her Jehu roused her from her reflections to find that the cab + had stopped in front of a white-painted wooden gate bearing the legend, + “Sunnyside,” painted in black letters across its topmost bar. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the keb round to the stable-yard, miss; it'll be more + convenient-like for the luggage,” added the man, with a mildly + disapproving glance towards the narrow tiled path leading from the gate to + the house-door. + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded, and, having paid him his fare, made her way through the white + gateway and along the path. + </p> + <p> + There seemed a curious absence of life about the place. No sound of voices + broke the silence, and, although the front door stood invitingly open, + there was no sign of any one hovering in the background ready to receive + her. + </p> + <p> + Vaguely chilled—since, of course, they must be expecting her—she + rang the bell. It clanged noisily through the house but failed to produce + any more important result than the dislodging of some dust from a ledge + above which the bell-wire ran. Sara watched it fall and lie on the floor + in a little patch of fine, greyish powder. + </p> + <p> + The hall, of which the open door gave view, though of considerable + dimensions, was poorly furnished. The wide expanse of colour-washed wall + was broken only by a hat-stand, on which hung a large assortment of + masculine hats and coats, all of them looking considerably the worse for + wear, and by two straight-backed chairs placed with praiseworthy + exactitude at equal distances apart from the aforesaid rather overburdened + piece of furniture. The floor was covered with linoleum of which the black + and white chess-board pattern had long since retrogressed with usage into + an uninspiring blur. A couple of threadbare rugs completed a somewhat + depressing “interior.” + </p> + <p> + Sara rang the bell a second time, on this occasion with an irritable force + that produced clangour enough, one would have thought, to awaken the dead. + It served, at all events, to arouse the living, for presently heavy + footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, and, finally, a + middle-aged maidservant, whose cap had obviously been assumed in haste, + appeared, confronting Sara with an air of suspicion that seemed rather to + suggest that she might have come after the spoons. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor's out,” she announced somewhat truculently. Then, before Sara + had time to formulate any reply, she added, a thought more graciously: + “Maybe you're a stranger to these parts. Surgery hour's not till six + o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + She was evidently fully prepared for Sara to accept this as a dismissal, + and looked considerably astonished when the latter queried meekly: + </p> + <p> + “Then can I see Miss Selwyn, please? I understand Mrs. Selwyn is an + invalid.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right there. The mistress isn't up for seeing visitors. And Miss + Molly, she's not home—she's away to Oldhampton.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but——” stammered Sara. “They're expecting me, + surely? I'm Miss Tennant,” she added by way of explanation. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Tennant! Sakes alive!” The woman threw up her hands, staring at Sara + with an almost comic expression, halting midway between bewilderment and + horror. “If that isn't just the way of them,” she went on indignantly, + “never mentioning that 'twas to-day you were coming—and no sheets + aired to your bed and all! The master, he never so much as named it to me, + nor Miss Molly neither. But please to come in, miss—” her outraged + sense of hospitality infusing a certain limited cordiality into her tones. + </p> + <p> + The woman led the way into a sitting-room that opened off the hall, + standing aside for Sara to pass in, then, muttering half-inaudibly, + “You'll be liking a cup of tea, I expect,” she disappeared into the back + regions of the house, whence a distant clattering of china shortly gave + indication that the proffered refreshment was in course of preparation. + </p> + <p> + Sara seated herself in a somewhat battered armchair and proceeded to take + stock of the room in which she found herself. It tallied accurately with + what the hall had led her to expect. Most of the furniture had been good + of its kind at one time, but it was now all reduced to a drab level of + shabbiness. There were a few genuine antiques amongst it—a couple of + camel-backed Chippendale chairs, a grandfather's clock, and some fine old + bits of silver—which Sara's eye, accustomed to the rare and + beautiful furnishings of Barrow Court, singled out at once from the olla + podrida of incongruous modern stuff. These alone had survived the general + condition of disrepair; but, even so, the silver had a neglected + appearance and stood badly in need of cleaning. + </p> + <p> + This latter criticism might have been leveled with equal justice at almost + everything in the room, and Sara, mindful of her reception, reflected that + in such an oddly conducted household, where the advent of an expected, and + obviously much-needed, paying guest could be completely overlooked, it was + hardly probable that smaller details of house-management would receive + their meed of attention. + </p> + <p> + Instead of depressing her, however, the forlorn aspect of the room + assisted to raise her spirits. It looked as though there might very well + be a niche in such a household that she could fill. Mentally she proceeded + to make a tour of the room, duster in hand, and she had just reached the + point where, in imagination, she was about to place a great bowl of + flowers in the middle desert of the table, when the elderly Abigail + re-appeared and dumped a tea-tray down in front of her. + </p> + <p> + Sara made a wry face over the tea. It tasted flat, and she could well + imagine the long-boiling kettle from which the water with which it had + been made was poured. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure that tea's beastly!” + </p> + <p> + A masculine voice sounded abruptly from the doorway, and, looking up, Sara + beheld a tall, eager-faced man, wearing a loose shabby coat and carrying + in one hand a professional-looking doctor's bag. The bag, however, was the + only professional-looking thing about him. For the rest, he might have + been taken to be either an impoverished country squire and sportsman, or a + Roman Catholic dignitary, according to whether you assessed him by his + broad, well-knit figure and weather-beaten complexion, puckered with + wrinkles born of jolly laughter, or by the somewhat austere and controlled + set of his mouth and by the ardent luminous grey eyes, with their touch of + the visionary and fanatic. + </p> + <p> + Sara set down her cup hastily. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm sure you're Dr. Selwyn,” she said, a flicker of amusement at his + unconventional greeting in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Right!” he answered, shaking hands. “How are you, Miss Tennant? It was + plucky of you to decide to risk us after all, and I hope—” with a + slight grimace—“you won't find we are any worse than I depicted. I + was very sorry I had to be out when you came,” he went on genially, “but I + expect Molly has looked after you all right? By the way”—glancing + round him in some perplexity—“where <i>is</i> Molly?” + </p> + <p> + “I understood,” replied Sara tranquilly, “that she had gone in to + Oldhampton.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Selwyn's expression was not unlike that of a puppy caught in the + unlawful possession of his master's slipper. + </p> + <p> + “What did I warn you?” he exclaimed with a rueful laugh. “We're quite a + hopeless household, I'm afraid. And Molly's the most absent-minded of + beings. I expect she has clean forgotten that you were coming to-day. + She's by way of being an artist—art-student, rather”—correcting + himself with a smile. “You know the kind of thing—black carpets and + Futurist colour schemes in dress. So you must try and forgive her. She's + only seventeen. But Jane—I hope Jane did the honours properly? She + is our stand-by in all emergencies.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes danced. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I came upon Jane entirely in the light of an unpleasant + surprise,” she responded mildly. + </p> + <p> + “What! Do you mean to say she wasn't prepared for you? Oh, but this is + scandalous! What must you think of us all?” he strode across the room and + pealed the bell, and, when Jane appeared in answer to the summons, + demanded wrathfully why nothing was in readiness for Miss Tennant's + arrival. + </p> + <p> + Jane surveyed him with the immovable calm of the old family servant, her + arms akimbo. + </p> + <p> + “And how should it be?” she wanted to know. “Seeing that neither you nor + Miss Molly named it to me that the young lady was coming to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “But I asked Miss Molly to make arrangements,” protested Selwyn feebly. + </p> + <p> + “And did you expect her to do so, sir, may I ask?” inquired Jane with + withering scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me that Miss Molly gave you no orders about preparing + a room?” countered the doctor, skillfully avoiding the point raised? + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, she didn't. And if I'm kep' here talking much longer, there + won't <i>be</i> one prepared, neither! 'Tis no use crying over spilt milk. + Let me get on with the airing of my sheets, and do you talk to the young + lady whiles I see to it.” + </p> + <p> + And Jane departed forthwith about her business. + </p> + <p> + “Jane Crab,” observed Selwyn, twinkling, “has been with us five-and-twenty + years. I had better do as she tells me.” He threw a doleful glance at the + unappetizing tea in Sara's cup. “I positively dare not order you fresh tea—in + the circumstances. Jane would probably retaliate with an ultimatum + involving a rigid choice between tea and the preparation of your room, + accompanied by a pithy summary of the capabilities of one pair of hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you like some tea yourself?” hazarded Sara. + </p> + <p> + “I should—very much. But I see no prospect of getting any while Jane + maintains her present attitude of mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—if you will show me the kitchen—<i>I'll</i> make some,” + announced Sara valiantly. + </p> + <p> + Selwyn regarded her with a pitying smile. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know Jane,” he said. “Trespassers in the kitchen are not—welcomed.” + </p> + <p> + “And Jane doesn't know <i>me</i>,” replied Sara firmly. + </p> + <p> + “On your own head be it, then,” retorted the doctor, and led the way to + the sacrosanct domain presided over by Jane Crab. + </p> + <p> + How Sara managed it Selwyn never knew, but she contrived to invade Jane's + kitchen and perform the office of tea-making without offending her in the + very least. Nay, more, by some occult process known only to herself, she + succeeded in winning Jane's capacious heart, and from that moment onwards, + the autocrat of the kitchen became her devoted satellite; and later, when + Sara started to make drastic changes in the slip-shod arrangements of the + house, her most willing ally. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Tennant's the only body in the place as has got some sense in her + head,” she was heard to observe on more than one occasion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + THE SKELETON IN SELWYN'S CUPBOARD + </h3> + <p> + After tea, Selwyn escorted Sara upstairs and introduced her to his wife. + Mrs. Selwyn was a slender, colourless woman, possessing the remnants of + what must at one time have been an ineffective kind of prettiness. She was + a determinedly chronic invalid, and rarely left the rooms which had been + set aside for her use to join the other members of the family downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “The stairs try my heart, you see,” she told Sara, with the martyred air + peculiar to the hypochondriac—the genuine sufferer rarely has it. + “It is, of course, a great deprivation to me, and I don't think either + Dick”—with an inimical glance at her husband—“or Molly come up + to see me as often as they might. Stairs are no difficulty to <i>them</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Selwyn, who invariably ran up to see his wife immediately on his return + from no matter how long or how tiring a round of professional visits, bit + his lip. + </p> + <p> + “I come as often as I can, Minnie,” he said patiently. “You must remember + my time is not my own.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, of course not. And I expect that outside patients are much more + interesting to visit than one's own wife,” with a disagreeable little + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “They mean bread-and-butter, anyway,” said Selwyn bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they do.” She turned to Sara. “Dick always thinks in terms of + bread-and-butter, Miss Tennant,” she said sneeringly. “But money means + little enough to any one with my poor health. Beyond procuring me a few + alleviations, there is nothing it can do for me.” + </p> + <p> + Sara was privately of the opinion that it had done a good deal for her. + Looking round the luxuriously furnished room with its blazing fire, and + then at Mrs. Selwyn herself, elegantly clad in a rest-gown of rich silk, + she could better understand the poverty-stricken appearance of the rest of + the house, Dick's shabby clothes, and his willingness to receive a paying + guest whose contribution towards the housekeeping might augment his + slender income. + </p> + <p> + Here, then, was where his hard-earned guineas went—to keep in luxury + this petulant, complaining woman whose entire thoughts were centred about + her own bodily comfort, and whom Patrick Lovell, with his lucid + recognition of values, would have contemptuously described as “a parasite + woman, m'dear—the kind of female I've no use for.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick”—Mrs. Selwyn had been turning over the pages of a + price-list that was lying on her knee—“I see the World's Store have + just brought out a new kind of adjustable reading-table. It's a much + lighter make than the one I have. I think I should find it easier to use.” + </p> + <p> + Selwyn's face clouded. + </p> + <p> + “How much does it cost, dear?” he asked nervously. “These mechanical + contrivances are very expensive, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this one isn't. It's only five guineas.” + </p> + <p> + “Five guineas is rather a lot of money, Minnie,” he said gravely. + “Couldn't you manage with the table you have for a bit longer?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Selwyn tossed the price-list pettishly on to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Of, of course!” she declared. “That's always the way. 'Can't I manage + with what I have? Can't I make do with this, that, and the other?' I + believe you grudge every penny you spend on me!” she wound up + acrimoniously. + </p> + <p> + A dull red crept into Selwyn's face. + </p> + <p> + “You know it's not that, Minnie,” he replied in a painfully controlled + voice. “It's simply that I <i>can't afford</i> these things. I give you + everything I can. If I were only a rich man, you should have everything + you want.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps if you were to work a little more intelligently you'd make more + money,” she retorted. “If only you'd keep your brains for the use of + people who can <i>pay</i>—and pay well—I shouldn't be deprived + of every little comfort I ask for! Instead of that, you've got half the + poor of Monkshaven on your hands—and if you think they can't afford + to pay, you simply don't send in a bill. Oh, <i>I</i> know!”—sitting + up excitedly in her chair, a patch of angry scarlet staining each cheek—“I + hear what goes on—even shut away from the world as I am. It's just + to curry popularity—you get all the praise, and I suffer for it! <i>I</i> + have to go without what I want—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush! Hush!” Selwyn tried ineffectually to stem the torrent of + complaint. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't hush! It's 'Doctor Dick this,' and 'Doctor Dick that'—oh, + yes, you see, I know their name for you, these slum patients of yours!—but + it's Doctor Dick's wife who really foots the bills—by going without + what she needs!” + </p> + <p> + “Minnie, be quiet!” Selwyn broke in sternly. “Remember Miss Tennant is + present.” + </p> + <p> + But she had got beyond the stage when the presence of a third person, even + that of an absolute stranger, could be depended upon to exercise any + restraining effect. + </p> + <p> + “Well, since Miss Tenant's going to live here, the sooner she knows how + things stand the better! She won't be here long without seeing how I'm + treated”—her voice rising hysterically—“set on one side, and + denied even the few small pleasures my health permits——” + </p> + <p> + She broke off in a storm of angry weeping, and Sara retreated hastily from + the room, leaving husband and wife alone together. + </p> + <p> + She had barely regained the shabby sitting-room when the front door opened + and closed with a bang, and a gay voice could be heard calling— + </p> + <p> + “Jane! Jane! Come here, my pretty Jane! I've brought home some shrimps for + tea!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your noise, Miss Molly, now do!” + </p> + <p> + Sara could hear Jane's admonitory whisper, and there followed a murmured + colloquy, punctuated by exclamations and gusts of young laughter, calling + forth renewed remonstrance from Jane, and then the door of the room was + flung open, and Molly Selwyn sailed in and overwhelmed Sara with apologies + for her reception, or rather, for the lack of it. She was quite charming + in her penitence, waving dimpled, deprecating hands, and appealing to Sara + with a pair of liquid, disarming, golden-brown eyes that earned her + forgiveness on the spot. + </p> + <p> + She was a statuesque young creature, compact of large, soft, gracious + curves and swaying movements—with her nimbus of pale golden hair, + and curiously floating, undulating walk, rather reminding one of a stray + goddess. Always untidy with hooks lacking at important junctures, and the + trimmings of her hats usually pinned on with a casualness that + occasionally resulted in their deserting the hat altogether, she could + still never be other than delightful and irresistibly desirable to look + upon. + </p> + <p> + Her red, curving mouth of a child, cleft chin, and dimpled, tapering hands + all promised a certain yieldingness of disposition—a tendency to + take always the line of least resistance—but it was a charming, + appealing kind of frailty which most people—the sterner sex, + certainly—would be very ready to condone. + </p> + <p> + It is a wonderful thing to be young. Molly poured herself out a cup of + hideously stewed tea and drank it joyously to an accompaniment of shrimps + and bread-and-butter, and when Sara uttered a mild protest, she only + laughed and declared that it was a wholesome and digestible diet compared + with some of the “studio teas” perpetrated by the artists' colony at + Oldhampton, of which she was a member. + </p> + <p> + She chattered away gaily to Sara, giving her vivacious thumb-nail + portraits of her future neighbours—the people Selwyn had described + as being “much nicer than ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “The Herricks and Audrey Maynard are our most intimate friends—I'm + sure you'll adore them. Mrs. Maynard is a widow, and if she weren't so + frightfully rich, Monkshaven would be perennially shocked at her. She is + ultra-fashionable, and smokes whenever she chooses, and swears when + ordinary language fails her—all of which things, of course, are + anathema to the select circles of Monkshaven. But then she's a + millionaire's widow, so instead of giving her the cold shoulder, every one + gushes round her and declares 'Mrs. Maynard is such a thoroughly <i>modern</i> + type, you know!'”—Molly mimicked the sugar-and-vinegar accents of + the critics to perfection—“and privately Audrey shouts with laughter + at them, while publicly she continues to shock them for the sheer joy of + the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are the Herricks?” asked Sara, smiling. “Married people?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” Molly shook her head. “Miles is a bachelor who lives with a maiden + aunt—Miss Lavinia. Or, rather, she lives with him and housekeeps for + him. 'The Lavender Lady,' I always call her, because she's one of those + delightful old-fashioned people who remind one of dimity curtains, and + pot-pourri, and little muslin bags of lavender. Miles is a perfect pet, + but he's lame, poor dear.” + </p> + <p> + Sara waited with a curious eagerness for any description which might seem + to fit her recent fellow-traveller, but none came, and at last she threw + out a question in the hope of eliciting his name. + </p> + <p> + “He was horribly ungracious and rude,” she added, “and yet he didn't look + in the least the sort of man who would be like that. There was no lack of + breeding about him. He was just deliberately snubby—as though I had + no right to exist on the same planet with him—anyway”—laughing—“not + in the same railway compartment.” + </p> + <p> + Molly nodded sagely. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I know whom you mean. Was he a lean, brown, grim-looking + individual, with the kind of eyes that almost make you jump when they look + at you suddenly?” + </p> + <p> + “That certainly describes them,” admitted Sara, smiling faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was the Hermit of Far End,” announced Molly. + </p> + <p> + “The Hermit of Far End?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He's a queer, silent man who lives all by himself at a house built + almost on the edge of Monk's Cliff—you must have seen it as you + drove up?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Sara, with sudden enlightenment. “Then his name is Trent. + The cabman presented me with that information,” she added, in answer to + Molly's look of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Garth Trent. It's rather an odd name—sounds like a + railway collision, doesn't it? But it suits him somehow”—reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Have you met him?” prompted Sara. It was odd how definite an interest her + brief encounter with him had aroused in her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—once. He treated me”—giggling delightedly—“rather + as if I <i>wasn't there</i>! At least”—reminiscently—“he tried + to.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't sound as though he had succeeded?” suggested Sara, amused. + </p> + <p> + Molly looked at her solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “He told some one afterwards—Miles Herrick, the only man he ever + speaks to, I think, without compulsion—that I was 'the Delilah type + of woman, and ought to have been strangled at birth.'” + </p> + <p> + “He must be a charming person,” commented Sara ironically. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's a woman-hater—in fact, I believe he has a grudge against + the world in general, but woman in particular. I expect”—shrewdly—“he's + been crossed in love.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Selwyn re-entered the room, his grave face clearing a + little as he caught sight of his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Molly mine! Got back, then?” he said, smiling. “Have you made your + peace with Miss Tennant, you scatterbrained young woman?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a hereditary taint, Dad—don't blame <i>me</i>!” retorted Molly + with lazy impudence, pulling his head down and kissing him on the top of + his ruffled hair. + </p> + <p> + Selwyn grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I pass,” he submitted. “And who is it that's been crossed in love?” + </p> + <p> + “The Hermit of Far End.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh”—turning to Sara—“so you have been discussing our local + enigma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I fancy I must have travelled down with him from Oldhampton. He + seemed rather a boorish individual.” + </p> + <p> + “He would be. He doesn't like women.” + </p> + <p> + “Monk's Cliff would appear to be an appropriate habitation for him, then,” + commented Sara tartly. + </p> + <p> + They all laughed, and presently Selwyn suggested that his daughter should + run up and see her mother. + </p> + <p> + “She'll be hurt if you don't go up, kiddy,” he said. “And try and be very + nice to her—she's a little tired and upset to-day.” + </p> + <p> + When she had left the room he turned to Sara, a curious blending of proud + reluctance and regret in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry, Miss Tennant,” he said simply, “that you should have seen + our worst side so soon after your arrival. You—you must try and + pardon it—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, please don't apologize,” broke in Sara hastily. “I'm so sorry + I happened to be there just then. It was horrible for you.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at her wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “It's very kind of you to take it like that,” he said. “After all”—frankly—“you + could not have remained with us very long without finding out our + particular skeleton in the cupboard. My wife's state of health—or, + rather, what she believes to be her state of health—is a great grief + to me. I've tried in every way to convince her that she is not really so + delicate as she imagines, but I've failed utterly.” + </p> + <p> + Now that the ice was broken, he seemed to find relief in pouring out the + pitiful little tragedy of his home life. + </p> + <p> + “She is comparatively young, you know, Miss Tennant—only + thirty-seven, and she willfully leads the life of a confirmed invalid. It + has grown upon her gradually, this absorption in her health, and now, + practically speaking, Molly has no mother and I no wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Doctor Dick”—the little nickname, that had its origin in his + slum patients' simple affection for the man who tended them, came + instinctively from her lips. It seemed, somehow, to fit itself to the big, + kindly man with the sternly rugged face and eyes of a saint. “Oh, Doctor + Dick, I'm so sorry—so very sorry!” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps something in the dainty, well-groomed air of the woman beside him + helped to accentuate the neglected appearance of the room, for he looked + round in an irritated kind of way, as though all at once conscious of its + deficiencies. + </p> + <p> + “And this—this, too,” he muttered. “There's no one at the helm. . . + . The truth is, I ought never to have let you come here.” + </p> + <p> + Sara shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I've very glad I came,” she said simply. “I think I'm going to be very + happy here.” + </p> + <p> + “You've got grit,” he replied quietly. “You'd make a success of your life + anywhere. I wish”—thoughtfully—“Molly had a little of that + same quality. Sometimes”—a worried frown gathered on his face—“I + get afraid for Molly. She's such a child . . . and no mother to hold the + reins.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Dick, would you consider it impertinent if—if I laid my + hands on the reins—just now and then?” + </p> + <p> + He whirled round, his eyes shining with gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “Impertinent! I should be illimitably thankful! You can see how things are—I + am compelled to be out all my time, my wife hardly ever leaves her own + rooms, and Molly and the house affairs just get along as best they can.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Sara, smiling, “I shall put my finger in the pie. I've—I've + no one to look after now, since Uncle Patrick died,” she added. “I think, + Doctor Dick, I've found my job.” + </p> + <p> + “It's absurd!” he exclaimed, regarding her with unfeigned delight. “Here + you come along, prepared, no doubt, to be treated as a 'guest,' and the + first thing I do is to shovel half my troubles on to your shoulders. It's + absurd—disgraceful! . . . But it's amazingly good!” He held out his + hand, and as Sara's slim fingers slid into his big palm, he muttered a + trifle huskily: “God bless you for it, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + TRESPASS + </h3> + <p> + Sara stood on the great headland known as Monk's Cliff, watching with + delight the white-topped billows hurling themselves against its mighty + base, only to break in a baulked fury of thunder and upflung spray. + </p> + <p> + She had climbed the steep ascent thither on more than one day of storm and + bluster, reveling in the buffeting of the gale and in the pungent tang of + brine from the spray-drenched air. The cry of the wind, shrieking along + the face of the sea-bitten cliff, reminded her of the scream of the + hurricane as it tore through the pinewoods at Barrow—shaking their + giant tops hither and thither as easily as a child's finger might shake a + Canterbury bell. + </p> + <p> + Something wild and untamed within her responded to the savage movement of + the scene, and she stood for a long time watching the expanse of restless, + wind-tossed waters, before turning reluctantly in the direction of home. + If for nothing else than for this gift of glorious sea and cliff, she felt + she could be content to pitch her tent in Monkshaven indefinitely. + </p> + <p> + Her way led past Far End, the solitary house perched on the sloping side + of the headland, and, as she approached, she became aware of a curious + change of character in the sound of the wind. She was sheltered now from + its fiercest onslaught, and it seemed to her that it rose and fell, + moaning in strange, broken cadences, almost like the singing of a violin. + </p> + <p> + She paused a moment, thinking at first that this was due to the wind's + whining through some narrow passage betwixt the outbuildings of the house, + then, as the chromatic wailing broke suddenly into vibrating harmonies, + she realized that some one actually <i>was</i> playing the violin, and + playing it remarkably well, too. + </p> + <p> + Instinctively she yielded to the fascination of it, and, drawing nearer to + the house, leaned against a sheltered wall, all her senses subordinate to + that of hearing. + </p> + <p> + Whoever the musician might be, he was a thorough master of his instrument, + and Sara listened with delight, recognizing some of the haunting melodies + of the wild Russian music which he was playing—music that even in + its moments of delirious joy seemed to hold always an underlying <i>bourdon</i> + of tragedy and despair. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, there!” + </p> + <p> + She started violently. Entirely absorbed in the music, she had failed to + observe a man, dressed in the style of an indoor servant, who had appeared + in the doorway of one of the outbuildings and who now addressed her in + peremptory tones. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, there! Don't you know you're trespassing?” + </p> + <p> + Jerked suddenly out of her dreamy enjoyment, Sara looked round vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know that Monk's Cliff was private property,” she said after a + pause. + </p> + <p> + “Nor is it, that I know of. But you're on the Far End estate now—this + is a private road,” replied the man disagreeably. “You'll please to take + yourself off.” + </p> + <p> + A faint flush of indignation crept up under the warm pallor of Sara's + skin. Then, a sudden thought striking her, she asked— + </p> + <p> + “Who is that playing the violin?” + </p> + <p> + Mentally she envisioned a pair of sensitive, virile hands, lean and brown, + with the short, well-kept nails that any violinist needs must have—the + contradictory hands which had aroused her interest on the journey to + Monkshaven. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hear no one playing,” replied the man stolidly. She felt certain + he was lying, but he gave her no opportunity for further interrogation, + for he continued briskly— + </p> + <p> + “Come now, miss, please to move off from here. Trespassers aren't + allowed.” + </p> + <p> + Sara spoke with a quiet air of dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I'll go,” she said. “I'm sorry. I had no idea that I was + trespassing.” + </p> + <p> + The man's truculent manner softened, as, with the intuition of his kind, + he recognized in the composed little apology the utterance of one of his + “betters.” + </p> + <p> + “Beggin' your pardon, miss,” he said, with a considerable accession of + civility, “but it's as much as my place is worth to allow a trespasser + here on Far End.” + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You're perfectly right to obey orders,” she said, and bending her steps + towards the public road from which she had strayed to listen to the unseen + musician, she made her way homewards. + </p> + <p> + “Your mysterious 'Hermit' is nothing if not thorough,” she told Doctor + Dick and Molly on her return. “I trespassed on to the Far End property + to-day, and was ignominiously ordered off by a rather aggressive person, + who, I suppose, is Mr. Trent's servant.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be Judson,” nodded Selwyn. “I've attended him once or twice + professionally. The fellow's all right, but he's under strict orders, I + believe, to allow no trespassers.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems,” returned Sara. “By the way, who is the violinist at Far + End? Is it the 'Hermit' himself?” + </p> + <p> + “It's rumoured that he does play,” said Molly. “But no one has ever been + privileged to hear him.” + </p> + <p> + “Their loss, then,” commented Sara shortly. “I should say he is a + magnificent performer.” + </p> + <p> + Molly nodded, an expression of impish amusement in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “On the sole occasion I met him, I asked him why no one was ever allowed + to hear him play,” she said, chuckling. “I even suggested that he might + contribute a solo to the charity concert we were getting up at the time!” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” asked Sara, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Told me that there was no need for a man to exhibit his soul to the + public! So I asked him what he meant, and he said that if I understood + anything about music I would know, and that if I didn't, it was a waste of + his time trying to explain. Do <i>you</i> know what he meant?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sara slowly, “I think I do.” And recalling the passionate + appeal and sadness of the music she had heard that afternoon, she was + conscious of a sudden quick sense of pity for the solitary hermit of Far + End. He was <i>afraid</i>—afraid to play to any one, lest he should + reveal some inward bitterness of his soul to those who listened! + </p> + <p> + The following day, Molly carried Sara off to Rose Cottage to make the + acquaintance of “the Lavender Lady” and her nephew. + </p> + <p> + Miss Herrick—or Miss Lavinia, as she was invariably addressed—looked + exactly as though she had just stepped out of the early part of last + century. She wore a gown of some soft, silky material, sprigged with + heliotrope, and round her neck a fichu of cobwebby lace, fastened at the + breast with a cameo brooch of old Italian workmanship. A coquettish little + lace cap adorned the silver-grey hair, and the face beneath the cap was + just what you would have expected to find it—soft and very gentle, + its porcelain pink and white a little faded, the pretty old eyes a misty, + lavender blue. + </p> + <p> + She was alone when the two girls arrived, and greeted Sara with a humorous + little smile. + </p> + <p> + “How kind of you to come, Miss Tennant! We've been all agog to meet you, + Miles and I. In a tiny place like Monkshaven, you see, every one knows + every one else's business, so of course we have been hearing of you + constantly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you might have come to Sunnyside to investigate me personally,” + replied Sara, smiling back. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia's face sobered suddenly, a shadow falling across her kind old + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Miles is—rather difficult about calling,” she said hesitatingly. + “You will understand—his lameness makes him a little self-conscious + with strangers,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + Sara looked distressed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Perhaps it would have been better if I had not come?” she suggested + hastily. “Shall I run away and leave Molly here?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia flushed rose-pink. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I hope Miles knows how to welcome a guest in his own house as + befits a Herrick,” she said, with a delicious little air of old-world + dignity. “Indeed, it is an excellent thing for him to be dragged out of + his shell. Only, please—will you remember?—treat him exactly + as though he were not lame—never try to help him in any way. It is + that which hurts him so badly—when people make allowances for his + lameness. Just ignore it.” + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded. She could understand that instinctive man's pride which + recoiled from any tolerant recognition of a physical handicap. + </p> + <p> + “Was his lameness caused by an accident?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It came through a very splendid deed.” Little Miss Lavinia's eyes glowed + as she spoke. “He stopped a pair of runaway carriage-horses. They had + taken fright at a motor-lorry, and, when they bolted, the coachman was + thrown from the box, so that it looked as if nothing could save the + occupants of the carriage. Miles flung himself at the horses' heads, and + although, of course, he could not actually stop them single-handed, he so + impeded their progress that a second man, who sprang forward to help, was + able to bring them to a standstill.” + </p> + <p> + “How plucky of him!” exclaimed Sara warmly. “You must be very proud of + your nephew, Miss Lavinia!” + </p> + <p> + “She is,” interpolated Molly affectionately. “Aren't you, dear Lavender + Lady?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia smiled a trifle wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! My dear,” she said sadly, “splendid things are done at such a cost, + and when they are over we are apt to forget the splendour and remember + only the heavy price. . . . My poor Miles was horribly injured—he + had been dragged for yards, clinging to the horses' bridles—and for + weeks we were not even sure if he would live. He has lived—but he + will walk lame to the end of his life.” + </p> + <p> + The little instinctive silence which followed was broken by the sound of + voices in the hall outside, and, a minute later, Miles Herrick himself + came into the room, escorting a very fashionably attired and distinctly + attractive woman, whom Sara guessed at once to be Audrey Maynard. + </p> + <p> + She was not in the least pretty, but the narrowest of narrow skirts in + vogue in the spring of 1914 made no secret of the fact that her figure was + almost perfect. Her face was small and thin and inclined to be sallow, and + beneath upward-slanting brows, to which art had undoubtedly added + something, glimmered a pair of greenish-grey eyes, clear like rain. Nor + was there any mistaking the fact that the rich copper-colour of the hair + swathed beneath the smart little hat had come out of a bottle, and was in + no way to be accredited to nature. It was small wonder that primitive + Monkshaven stood aghast at such flagrant tampering with the obvious + intentions of Providence. + </p> + <p> + But notwithstanding her up-to-date air of artificiality, there was + something immensely likeable about Audrey Maynard. Behind it all, Sara + sensed the real woman—clever, tactful, and generously warm-hearted. + </p> + <p> + Woman, when all is said and done, is frankly primitive in her instincts, + and the desire to attract—with all its odd manifestations—is + really but the outcome of her innate desire for home and a mate. It is + this which lies at the root of most of her little vanities and weaknesses—and + of all the big sacrifices of which she is capable as well. So she may be + forgiven the former, and trusted to fall short but rarely of the latter + when the crucial test comes. + </p> + <p> + “Miles and I have been—as usual—squabbling violently,” + announced Mrs. Maynard. “Sugar, please—lots of it,” she added, as + Herrick handed her her tea. “It was about the man who lives at Far End,” + she continued in reply to the Lavender Lady's smiling query. “Miles has + been very irritating, and tried to smash all my suggested theories to + bits. He insists that the Hermit is quite a commonplace, harmless young + man—” + </p> + <p> + “He must be at least forty,” interposed Herrick mildly. + </p> + <p> + Audrey frowned him into silence and continued— + </p> + <p> + “Now that's so dull, when half Monkshaven believes him to be a villain of + the deepest dye, hiding from justice—or, possibly, a Bluebeard with + an unhappy wife imprisoned somewhere in that weird old house of his.” + </p> + <p> + Sara listened with undignified interest. It was strange how the + enigmatical personality of the owner of Far End kept cropping up across + her path. + </p> + <p> + “And what is your own opinion, Mrs. Maynard?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Audrey flashed her a keen glance from her rain-clear eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I think he's a—sphinx,” she said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “The Sphinx was a lady,” objected Herrick pertinently. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Trent's a masculine re-incarnation of her, then,” retorted Mrs. + Maynard, undefeated. + </p> + <p> + Herrick smiled tolerantly. He was a tall, slenderly built man, with + whimsical brown eyes and the half-stern, half-sweet mouth of one who has + been through the mill of physical pain. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Homme incompris</i>,” he suggested lightly. “Give the fellow his due—he + at least supplies the feminine half of Monkshaven with a topic of + perennial interest.” + </p> + <p> + Audrey took up the implied challenge with enthusiasm, and the two of them + wrangled comfortably together till tea was over. Then she demanded a + cigarette—and another cushion—and finally sent Miles in search + of some snapshots they had taken together and which he had developed since + last they had met. She treated him exactly as though he suffered no + handicap, demanding from him all the little services she would have asked + from a man who was physically perfect. + </p> + <p> + Sara herself, accustomed to anticipating every need of Patrick Lovell's, + would have been inclined to feel somewhat compunctious over allowing a + lame man to wait upon her, yet, as she watched the eager way in which + Miles responded to the visitor's behests, she realized that in reality + Audrey was behaving with supreme tact. She let Miles feel himself a man as + other men, not a mere “lame duck” to whom indulgence must needs be + granted. + </p> + <p> + And once, when her hair just brushed his cheek, as he stooped over her to + indicate some special point in one of the recently developed photos, Sara + surprised a sudden ardent light in his quiet brown eyes that set her + wondering whether possibly, the incessant sparring between Herrick and the + lively, impulsive woman who shocked half Monkshaven, did not conceal + something deeper than mere friendship. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE UNWILLING HOST + </h3> + <p> + It was one of those surprisingly warm days, holding a foretaste of June's + smiles, which March occasionally vouchsafes. + </p> + <p> + The sun blazed down out of a windless, cloudless sky, and Sara, making her + way leisurely through the straggling woods that intervened betwixt the + Selwyns' house and Monk's Cliff, felt the salt-laden air wafted against + her face, as warmly mellow as though summer were already come. + </p> + <p> + Molly had gone to Oldhampton—since the artists' colony there would + be certain to take advantage of this gift of a summer's day to arrange a + sketching party, and, as the morning's post had brought Sara a letter from + Elisabeth Durward which had occasioned her considerable turmoil of spirit, + she had followed her natural bent by seeking the solitude of a lonely + tramp in order to think the matter out. + </p> + <p> + From her earliest days at Barrow she had always carried the small tangles + of childhood to a remote corner of the pine-woods for solution, and the + habit had grown with her growth, so that now, when a rather bigger tangle + presented itself, she turned instinctively to the solitude of the cliffs + at Monkshaven, where the murmur of the sea was borne in her ears, + plaintively reminiscent of the sound of the wind in her beloved pine + trees. + </p> + <p> + Spring comes early in the sheltered, southern bay of Monkshaven, and + already the bracken was sending up pushful little shoots of young green, + curled like a baby's fist, while the primroses, bunched together in + clusters, thrust peering faces impertinently above the green carpet of the + woods. Sara stopped to pick a handful, tucking them into her belt. Then, + emerging from the woods, she breasted the steep incline that led to the + brow of the cliff. + </p> + <p> + A big boulder, half overgrown with moss and lichen, offered a tempting + resting-place, and flinging herself down on the yielding turf beside it, + she leaned back and drew out Elisabeth's letter. + </p> + <p> + She had sometimes wondered whether Elisabeth had any suspicion of the fact + that, before leaving Barrow, she had refused to marry Tim. The friendship + and understanding between mother and son was so deep that it was very + possible that Tim had taken her into his confidence. And even if he had + not, the eyesight of love is extraordinarily keen, and Elisabeth would + almost inevitably have divined that something was amiss with his + happiness. + </p> + <p> + If this were so, as Sara admitted to herself with a wry smile, there was + little doubt that she would look askance at the woman who had had the + temerity to refuse her beautiful Tim! + </p> + <p> + And now, although her letter contained no definite allusion to the matter, + reading between the lines, the conviction was borne in upon Sara that + Elisabeth knew all that there was to know, and had ranged herself, heart + and soul, on the side of her son. + </p> + <p> + It was obvious that she thought of the whole world in terms of Tim, and, + had she been a different type of woman, the simile of a hen with one chick + would have occurred to Sara's mind. + </p> + <p> + But there was nothing in the least hen-like about Elisabeth Durward. Only, + whenever Tim came near her, her face, with its strangely inscrutable eyes, + would irradiate with a sudden warmth and tenderness of emotion that was + akin to the exquisite rapture of a lover when the beloved is near. To + Sara, there seemed something a little frightening—almost terrible—in + her intense devotion to Tim. + </p> + <p> + The letter itself was charmingly written—expressing the hope that + Sara was happy and comfortable at Monkshaven, recalling their pleasant + time at Barrow together, and looking forward to other future visits from + her—“<i>which would be a fulfillment of happiness to us all</i>.” + </p> + <p> + It was this last sentence, combined with one or two other phrases into + which much or little meaning might equally as easily be read, which had + aroused in Sara a certain uneasy instinct of apprehension. Dimly she + sensed a vague influence at work to strengthen the ties that bound her to + Barrow, and to all that Barrow signified. + </p> + <p> + She faced the question with characteristic frankness. Tim had his own + place in her heart—secure and unassailable. But it was not the place + in that sacred inner temple which is reserved for the one man, and she + recognized this with a limpid clearness of perception rather uncommon in a + girl of twenty. She also recognized that it was within the bounds of + possibility that the one man might never come to claim that place, and + that, if she gave Tim the answer he so ardently desired, they would quite + probably rub along together as well as most married folk—better, + perhaps, than a good many. But she was very sure that she never intended + to desecrate that inner temple by any lesser substitute for love. + </p> + <p> + Thus she reasoned, with the untried confidence of youth, which is so + pathetically certain of itself and of its ultimate power to hold to its + ideals, ignorant of the overpowering influences which may develop to push + a man or woman this way or that, or of the pain that may turn clear, + definite thought into a welter of blind anguish, when the soul in its + agony snatches at any anodyne, true or false, which may seem to promise + relief. + </p> + <p> + A little irritably she folded up Elisabeth's letter. It was disquieting in + some ways—she could not quite explain why—and just now she + felt averse to wrestling with disturbing ideas. She only wanted to lie + still, basking in the tranquil peace of the afternoon, and listen to the + murmuring voice of the sea. + </p> + <p> + She closed her eyes indolently, and presently, lulled by the drowsy rhythm + of the waves breaking at the foot of the cliff, she fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + She woke with a start. An ominous drop of rain had splashed down on to her + cheek, and she sat up, broad awake in an instant and shivering a little. + It had turned much colder, and a wind had risen which whispered round her + of coming storm, while the blue sky of an hour ago was hidden by heavy, + platinum-coloured clouds massing up from the south. + </p> + <p> + Another and another raindrop fell, and, obeying their warning, Sara sprang + up and bent her steps in the direction of home. But she was too late to + avoid the storm which had been brewing, and before she had gone a hundred + yards it had begun to break in drifting scurries of rain, driven before + the wind. + </p> + <p> + She hurried on, hoping to gain the shelter of the woods before the + threatened deluge, but within ten minutes of the first heralding drops it + was upon her—a torrent of blinding rain, sweeping across the upland + like a wet sheet. + </p> + <p> + She looked about her desperately, in search of cover, and perceiving, on + the further side of a low stone wall, what she took to be a wooden shelter + for cattle, she quickened her steps to a run, and, nimbly vaulting the + wall, fled headlong into it. + </p> + <p> + It was not, however, the cattle shed she had supposed it, but a roughly + constructed summer-house, open on one side to the four winds of heaven and + with a wooden seat running round the remaining three. + </p> + <p> + Sara guessed immediately that she must have trespassed again on the Far + End property, but reflecting that neither its owner nor his lynx-eyed + servant was likely to be abroad in such a downpour as this, and that, even + if they were, and chanced to discover her, they could hardly object to her + taking refuge in this outlying shelter, she shook the rain from her skirts + and sat down to await the lifting of the storm. + </p> + <p> + As always in such circumstances, the time seemed to pass inordinately + slowly, but in reality she had not been there more than a quarter of an + hour before she observed the figure of a man emerge from some trees, a few + hundred yards distant, and come towards her, and despite the fact that he + was wearing a raincoat, with the collar turned up to his ears, and a tweed + cap pulled well down over his head, she had no difficulty in recognizing + in the approaching figure her fellow-traveller of the journey to + Monkshaven. + </p> + <p> + Evidently he had not seen her, for she could hear him whistling softly to + himself as he approached, while with the fingers of one hand he drummed on + his chest as though beating out the rhythm of the melody he was whistling—a + wild, passionate refrain from Wieniawski's exquisite <i>Legende</i>. It + sounded curiously in harmony with the tempest that raged about him. + </p> + <p> + For himself, he appeared to regard the storm with indifference—almost + to welcome it, for more than once Sara saw him raise his head as though he + were glad to feel the wind and rain beating against his face. + </p> + <p> + She drew back a little into the shadows of the summer-house, hoping he + might turn aside without observing her, since, from all accounts, Garth + Trent was hardly the type of man to welcome a trespasser upon his + property. + </p> + <p> + But he came straight on towards her, and an instant later she knew that + her presence was discovered, for he stopped abruptly and peered through + the driving rain in the direction of the summer-house. Then, quickening + his steps, he rapidly covered the intervening space and halted on the + threshold of the shelter. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil——” he began, then paused and stared down at + her with an odd glint of amusement in his eyes. “So it's you, is it?” he + said at last, with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + Once again Sara was conscious of the extraordinary intensity of his + regard, and now, as a sudden ragged gleam of sunlight pierced the clouds, + falling athwart his face, she realized what it was that induced it. In + both eyes the clear hazel of the iris was broken by a tiny, irregularly + shaped patch of vivid blue, close to the pupil, and its effect was to give + that curious depth and intentness of expression which Molly had tried to + describe when she had said that Garth Trent's were the kind of eyes which + “make you jump if he looked at you suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + Sara almost jumped now; then, supported by her indignant recollection of + the man's churlishness on a former occasion, she bowed silently. + </p> + <p> + He continued to regard her with that lurking suggestion of amusement at + the back of his eyes, and she was annoyed to feel herself flushing + uncomfortably beneath his scrutiny. At last he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have a faculty for intrusion,” he remarked drily. + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “And you, a fancy for solitude,” she retorted. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” He bowed ironically. “Perhaps you would oblige me by + considering it?” And he drew politely aside as though to let her pass out + in front of him. + </p> + <p> + Sara cast a dismayed glance at the rain, which was still descending in + torrents. Then she turned to him indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you're going to insist on my starting out in this + storm?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know that you've no right to be here at all—that you're + trespassing?” he parried coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I know it! But I didn't expect that any one in the world would + object to my trespassing in the circumstances!” + </p> + <p> + “You must not judge me by other people,” he replied composedly. “I am not—like + them.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not, indeed,” agreed Sara warmly. + </p> + <p> + “And your tone implies 'thanks be,'” he supplemented with a faint smile. + “Oh, well,” he went on ungraciously, “stay if you like—so long as + you don't expect me to stay with you.” + </p> + <p> + Sara hastily disclaimed any such desire, and, lifting his cap, he turned + and strode away into the rain. + </p> + <p> + Another ten minutes crawled by, and still the rain came down as + persistently as though it intended never to cease again. Sara fidgeted, + and walked across impatiently to the open front of the summer-house, + staring up moodily at the heavy clouds. They showed no signs of breaking, + and she was just about to resume her weary waiting on the seat within the + shelter, when quick steps sounded to her left, and Garth Trent reappeared, + carrying an umbrella and with a man's overcoat thrown over his arm. + </p> + <p> + “It's going to rain for a good two hours yet,” he said abruptly. “You'd + better come up to the house.” + </p> + <p> + Sara gazed at him in silent amazement; the invitation was so totally + unexpected that for the moment she had no answer ready. + </p> + <p> + “Unless,” he added sneeringly, misinterpreting her silence, “you're afraid + of the proprieties?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm far more afraid of taking cold,” she replied promptly, preparing to + evacuate the summer-house. + </p> + <p> + “Here, put this on,” he said gruffly, holding out the coat he had brought + with him. “There's no object in getting any wetter than you must.” + </p> + <p> + He helped her into the coat, buttoning it carefully under her chin, his + dexterous movements and quiet solicitude contrasting curiously with the + detachment of his manner whilst performing these small services. He was so + altogether business-like and unconcerned that Sara felt not unlike a child + being dressed by a conscientious but entirely disinterested nurse. When he + had fastened the last button of the long coat, which came down to her + heels, he unfurled the umbrella and held it over her. + </p> + <p> + “Keep close to me, please,” he said briefly, nor did he volunteer any + further remark until they had accomplished the journey to the house, and + were standing together in the old-fashioned hall which evidently served + him as a living room. + </p> + <p> + Here Trent relieved her of the coat, and while she stood warming her feet + at the huge log-fire, blazing half-way up the chimney, he rang for his + servant and issued orders for tea to be brought, as composedly as though + visitors of the feminine persuasion were a matter of everyday occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Sara, catching a glimpse of Judson's almost petrified face of astonishment + as he retreated to carry out his master's instructions, and with a vivid + recollection of her last encounter with him, almost laughed out loud. + </p> + <p> + “Please sit down,” said Trent. “And”—with a glance towards her feet—“you + had better take off those wet shoes.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in his curt manner of giving orders—rather as + though he were a drill-sergeant, Sara reflected—that aroused her to + opposition. She held out her feet towards the blaze of the fire. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” she replied airily. “They'll dry like this.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, she glanced up and encountered a sudden flash in his eyes + like the keen flicker of a sword-blade. Without vouchsafing any answer, he + knelt down beside her and began to unlace her shoes, finally drawing them + off and laying them sole upwards, in front of the fire to dry. Then he + passed his hand lightly over her stockinged feet. + </p> + <p> + “Wringing wet!” he remarked curtly. “Those silk absurdities must come off + as well.” + </p> + <p> + Sara sprang up. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said firmly. “They shall not!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, again with that glint of mocking amusement with which he + had first greeted her presence in his summer-house. + </p> + <p> + “You'd rather have a bad cold?” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Ever so much rather!” retorted Sara hardily. + </p> + <p> + He gave a short laugh, almost as though he could not help himself, and, + with a shrug of his shoulders, turned and marched out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, Sara glanced about her in some surprise at the evidences of a + cultivated taste and love of beauty which the room supplied. It was not + quite the sort of abode she would have associated with the grim, + misanthropic type of man she judged her host to be. + </p> + <p> + The old-fashioned note, struck by the huge oaken beams supporting the + ceiling and by the open hearth, had been retained throughout, and every + detail—the blue willow-pattern china on the old oak dresser, the + dimly lustrous pewter perched upon the chimney-piece, the silver + candle-sconces thrusting out curved, gleaming arms from the paneled walls—was + exquisite of its kind. It reminded her of the old hall at Barrow, where + she and Patrick had been wont to sit and yarn together on winter evenings. + </p> + <p> + The place had a well-tended air, too, and Sara, who waged daily war + against the slovenly shabbiness prevalent at Sunnyside, was all at once + sensible of how desperately she had missed the quiet perfection of the + service at Barrow. The nostalgia for her old home—the unquenchable, + homesick longing for the <i>place</i> that has held one's happiness—rushed + over her in a overwhelming flood. + </p> + <p> + Wishing she had never come to this house, which had so stirred old + memories, she got up restlessly, driven by a sudden impulse to escape, + just as the door opened to re-admit Garth Trent. + </p> + <p> + He gave her a swift, searching glance. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down again,” he commanded. “There”—gravely depositing a towel + and a pair of men's woolen socks on the floor beside her—“dry your + feet and put those socks on.” + </p> + <p> + He moved quickly away towards the window and remained there, with his back + turned studiously towards her, while she obeyed his instructions. When she + had hung two very damp black silk stockings on the fire-dogs to dry, she + flung a somewhat irritated glance at him over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You can come back,” she said in a small voice. + </p> + <p> + He came, and stood staring down at the two woolly socks protruding from + beneath the short, tweed skirt. The suspicion of a smile curved his lips. + </p> + <p> + “They're several sizes too large,” he observed. “Odd creatures you women + are,” he went on suddenly, after a brief silence. “You shy wildly at the + idea of letting a man see the foot God gave you, but you've no scruples at + all about letting any one see the selfishness that the devil's put into + your hearts.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with a kind of savage contempt; it was as though the speech were + tinged with some bitter personal memory. + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes surveyed him calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I've no intention of making an exhibit of my heart,” she observed mildly. + </p> + <p> + “It's wiser not, probably,” he retorted disagreeably, and at that moment + Judson came into the room and began to arrange the tea-table beside his + master's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Put it over there,” directed Trent sharply, indicating with a gesture + that the table should be placed near his guest, and Judson, his face + manifesting rather more surprise than is compatible with the wooden mask + demanded of the well-trained servant, hastened to comply. + </p> + <p> + When he had readjusted the position of the tea-table, he moved quietly + about the room, drawing the curtains and lighting the candles in their + silver sconces, so that little pools of yellow light splashed down on to + the smooth surface of the oak floor—waxed and polished till it + gleamed like black ivory. + </p> + <p> + As he withdrew unobtrusively towards the door, Trent tossed him a further + order. + </p> + <p> + “I shall want the car round in a couple of hours—at six,” he said, + and smiled straight into Sara's startled eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <h3> + THE HERMIT'S SHELL + </h3> + <p> + Sara paused with the sugar-tongs poised above the Queen Anne bowl. + </p> + <p> + “Sugar?” she queried. + </p> + <p> + Trent regarded her seriously. + </p> + <p> + “One lump, please.” + </p> + <p> + She handed him his cup and poured out another for herself. Then she said + lightly: + </p> + <p> + “I heard you order your car. Is this quite a suitable afternoon for + joy-riding?” + </p> + <p> + “More so than for walking,” he retaliated. “I'm going to drive you home.” + </p> + <p> + “At six o'clock?” + </p> + <p> + “At six o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose I wish to leave before then?” + </p> + <p> + He cast an expressive glance towards the windows, where the rain could be + heard beating relentlessly against the panes. + </p> + <p> + “It's quite up to you . . . to walk home.” + </p> + <p> + Sara made a small grimace of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Otherwise,” she said tentatively, “I am going to stay here, whether I + will or no?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It's my birthday, and I'm proposing to make myself a present of an + hour or two of your society,” he replied composedly. + </p> + <p> + Sara regarded him with curiosity. He had been openly displeased to find + her trespassing on his estate—which was only what current report + would have led her to expect—yet now he was evincing a desire for + her company, and, in addition, a very determined intention to secure it. + The man was an enigma! + </p> + <p> + “I'm surprised,” she said lightly. “I gathered from a recent remark of + yours that you didn't think too highly of women.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't,” he replied with uncompromising directness. + </p> + <p> + “Then why—why——” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have a fancy to drop back for a brief space into the life I + have renounced,” he suggested mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you really are what they call you—a hermit?” + </p> + <p> + “I really am.” + </p> + <p> + “And feminine society is taboo?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely—as a rule.” If, for an instant, the faintest of smiles + modified the grim closing of his lips, Sara failed to notice it. + </p> + <p> + The cold detachment of his answer irritated her. It was as though he + intended to remain, hermit-like, within his shell, and she had a suspicion + that behind this barricade he was laughing at her for her ineffectual + attempts to dig him out of it with a pin. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose some woman didn't fall into your arms just when you wanted her + to?” she hazarded. + </p> + <p> + She had not calculated the result of this thrust. His eyes blazed for a + moment. Then, a shade of contempt blending with the former cool + insouciance of his tone, he said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “You don't expect an answer to that question, do you?” + </p> + <p> + The snub was unmistakable, and Sara's cheeks burned. She felt heartily + ashamed of herself, and yet, incongruously, she was half inclined to lay + the blame for her impertinent speech on his shoulders. He had almost + challenged her to deal a blow that should crack that impervious shell of + his. + </p> + <p> + She glanced across at him beneath her lashes, and in an instant all + thought of personal dignity was wiped out by the look of profound pain + that she surprised in his face. Her shrewd question, uttered almost + unthinkingly in the cut-and-thrust of repartee, had got home somewhere on + an old wound. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm sorry!” she exclaimed contritely. + </p> + <p> + She could only assume that he had not heard her low-voiced apology, for, + when he turned to her again, he addressed her exactly as though she had + not spoken. + </p> + <p> + “Try some of these little hot cakes,” he said, tendering a plateful. “They + are quite one of Mrs. Judson's specialties.” + </p> + <p> + With amazing swiftness he had reassumed his mask. The bright, hazel eyes + were entirely free from any hint of pain, and his voice held nothing more + than conventional politeness. Sara meekly accepted one of the cakes in + question, and for a little while the conversation ran on stereotyped + lines. + </p> + <p> + Presently, when tea was over, he offered her a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “I have not forgotten your tastes, you see,” he said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I do smoke,” she admitted. “But”—the confession came with a rush, + and she did not quite know what impelled her to make it—“I smoked—that + day in the train—out of sheer defiance.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sure of it,” he responded in amused tones. “But now”—striking + a match and holding it for her to light her cigarette—“you will + smoke because you really like it, and because it would be a friendly + action and condone the fact that you are being held a prisoner against + your will.” + </p> + <p> + Sara smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is a very charming prison,” she said, contemplating the harmony of the + room with satisfied eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You like it?” he asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in surprise. What could it matter to him whether she + liked it or not? + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, I like it,” she replied. “Who wouldn't? You see,” she + added a little wistfully, “I have no home of my own now, so I have to + enjoy other people's.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no home, either,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + “But—but this——” + </p> + <p> + “Is the house in which I live. One wants more than a few sticks of + furniture to make a home.” + </p> + <p> + Sara was struck by the intense bitterness in his tone. Truly this man, + with his lightning changes from boorish incivility to whole-hearted + hospitality, from apparently impenetrable reserve to an almost desperate + outspokenness, was as incomprehensible as any sphinx. + </p> + <p> + She hastily steered the conversation towards a less dangerous channel, and + gradually they drifted into the discussion of art and music; and Sara, not + without some inward trepidation—remembering Molly's experience—touched + on his own musicianship. + </p> + <p> + “It was surely you I herd?” she queried a trifle hesitatingly. “You were + playing some Russian music that I knew. Your man ordered me off the + premises”—smiling a little—“so I didn't hear as much as I + should have liked.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that a hint?” he asked whimsically. + </p> + <p> + “A broad one. Please take it.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment. Then— + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said abruptly. + </p> + <p> + He rose and led the way into an adjoining room. + </p> + <p> + Like the hall they had just quitted, it was pleasantly illumined by + candles in silver sconces, and had evidently been arranged to serve + exclusively as a music-room, for it contained practically no furniture + beyond a couple of chairs, and a beautiful mahogany cabinet, of which the + doors stood open, revealing sliding shelves crammed full of musical + scores. + </p> + <p> + A grand piano was so placed that the light from either window or candles + would fall comfortably upon the music-desk; and on a stool beside it + rested a violin case. + </p> + <p> + Trent opened the case, and, lifting the violin from is cushiony bed of + padded satin, fingered it caressingly. + </p> + <p> + “Can you read accompaniments?” he asked, flashing the question at her with + his usual abruptness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Sara's answer came simply, minus the mock-modest tag: “A little,” + or “I'll do my best,” which most people seem to think it incumbent on them + to add, in the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + It is one of the mysteries of convention why, when you are perfectly aware + that you can do a thing, and do it well, you are expected to depreciate + your capability under penalty of being accounted overburdened with conceit + should you fail to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Good.” Trent pulled out an armful of music from the cabinet and looked + through it rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have some of these.” (“These” being several suites for violin and + piano.) + </p> + <p> + Sara's lips twitched. He was testing her rather highly, since the + pianoforte score of the suites in question was by no means easy. But, + thanks to the wisdom of Patrick Lovell, who had seen to it that she + studied under one of the finest masters of the day, she was not a musician + by temperament alone, but had also a surprisingly good technique. + </p> + <p> + At the close of the second suite, Trent turned to her enthusiastically, + his face aglow. For the moment he was no longer the hermit, aloof and + enigmatical, but an eager comrade, spontaneously appealing to a congenial + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “That went splendidly, didn't it?” he exclaimed. “The pianoforte score is + a pretty stiff one, but I was sure”—smilingly—“from the + downright way you answered my question about accompaniments, that you'd + prove equal to it.” + </p> + <p> + Sara smiled back at him. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think it necessary to make any conventional professions of + modesty—to you,” she said. “You don't—wrap things up much—yourself.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned against the piano, looking down at her. + </p> + <p> + “No. Nothing I say can make things either better or worse for me, so I + have at least gained freedom from the conventions. That is one of my few + compensations.” + </p> + <p> + “Compensations for what?” The question escaped her almost before she was + aware, and she waited for the snub which she felt would inevitably follow + her second indiscretion that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + But it did not come. Instead, he fenced adroitly. + </p> + <p> + “Compensation for the limitations of a hermit's life,” he said lightly. + </p> + <p> + “The life is your own choice,” she flashed back at him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, we're not always given a choice, you know. This world isn't a + kind of sublimated children's party.” + </p> + <p> + She regarded him thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said gravely, “we always get back out of life just what we + put into it.” + </p> + <p> + His mouth twisted ironically. + </p> + <p> + “That's a charming doctrine, but I'm afraid I can't subscribe to it. I put + in—all my capital. And I've drawn a blank.” + </p> + <p> + His tone implied a kind of strange, numb acceptance of an inimical + destiny, and Sara was conscious of a rush of intense pity towards this man + whose implacably cynical outlook manifested itself in almost every word he + uttered. It was no mere pose on his part—of that she felt assured—but + something ingrained, grafted on to his very nature by the happenings of + life. + </p> + <p> + Rather girlishly she essayed to combat it. + </p> + <p> + “You're not at the end of life yet.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at her—a sudden, rare smile of extraordinary sweetness. + Her intention was so unmistakable—so touchingly ingenious, as are + all youth's attempts to heal a bitterness that lies beyond its ken. + </p> + <p> + “There are no more lucky dips left in life's tub for me, I'm afraid,” he + said gently. + </p> + <p> + Sara seized upon the opening afforded. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not—if you persist in keeping to the role of looker-on,” + she retorted. + </p> + <p> + He regarded her gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, I've no longer any right to dip my head into the tub. Even + if I chanced to draw a prize—I should only have to put it back + again.” + </p> + <p> + The quiet irrevocableness of his answer shook her optimism. + </p> + <p> + “I—don't understand,” she said hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “No?”—his tones hardened suddenly. “It's just as well you shouldn't, + perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + The abrupt alteration in his manner took her by surprise. All at once, he + seemed to have retreated into his shell, to have become again the curt, + ironic individual of their first meeting. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he went on, tranquilly ignoring the mixture of chagrin and + amazement in her face, “I think I hear the car coming round. You had + better put on your shoes and stockings again—they'll be dry now—and + then we can start. It's no longer raining.” + </p> + <p> + Sara felt as though she had been suddenly relegated to a position of utter + unimportance. He was showing her that, as far as he was concerned, she was + a person of not the slightest consequence, treating her like an + inquisitive child. Their recent conversation, during which his mantle of + reserve had slipped a little aside, the music they had shared, when for a + brief time they had walked together in the pleasant paths of mutual + understanding, all seemed to have receded an immense distance away. As she + took her place in the car, she could almost have believed that the + incidents of the afternoon were a dream, and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Trent sat silently beside her, his attention apparently concentrated on + the driving of the car. Once he asked her if she were warm enough, and, + upon her replying in the affirmative, lapsed again into silence. + </p> + <p> + Gaining security from his abstraction, Sara ventured to steal a + side-glance at his face. It was a curiously contradictory face, hard and + bitter-looking, yet the reckless mouth curved sensitively at the corners, + and the tolerant, humorous lines about the eyes seemed to combat the + impression of almost brutal force conveyed by the frowning brows and + square, dominant chin. + </p> + <p> + Always acutely sensible of temperament, Sara felt as though the man beside + her might be capable of any extreme of action. Whatever decision he might + adopt over any given matter, he would hold by it, come what may, and she + was aware of an odd reflex consciousness of feminine inadequacy. To + influence Garth Trent against his convictions would be like trying to + deflect the course of a river by laying a straw across its track. + </p> + <p> + The primitive woman in her thrilled a little, responsively, and she + wondered whether or no her sex had played much part in his life. He was a + woman-hater—so Molly had told her—yet Sara could imagine him + in a very different role. Of one thing she was sure—that the woman + who was loved by Garth Trent would anchor in no placid back-water. Life, + for her, would hold something breathless, vital, exultant . . . + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you decided yet?” + </p> + <p> + The ironical voice broke sharply into the midst of her fugitive thoughts, + and Sara jumped violently, flushing scarlet as she found Trent's eyes + surveying her with a quietly quizzical expression. + </p> + <p> + “Decided what?” she asked defensively. + </p> + <p> + “Where to place me—whether among the sheep or the goats. You were + dissecting my character, weren't you?” + </p> + <p> + He waited for an answer, but Sara maintained an embarrassed silence. He + had divined the subject of her thoughts too nearly. + </p> + <p> + He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “The decision has gone against me, I see. Well, I'm not surprised. I've + certainly treated you with a rather rough-and-ready kind of courtesy. You + must try to pardon me. A hermit gets little practice at entertaining + angels unawares.” + </p> + <p> + Sara, recovering her composure, regarded him placidly. + </p> + <p> + “You might find many opportunities for practice in Monkshaven,” she + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “In Monkshaven? Are you trying to suggest that I should ingratiate myself + with the leading lights of local society?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed as though genuinely amused. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you've not been here long enough yet to discover that the amiable + inhabitants of Monkshaven look upon me as a sort of cross between a madman + and a criminal who has eluded justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose fault is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mine, I suppose”—quickly. “But it doesn't matter—since I + regard them as a set of harmless, conventional fools. No, thank you, I've + no intention of making friends with the people of Monkshaven.” + </p> + <p> + “They're not all conventional. Some of them are rather interesting—Mrs. + Maynard, for instance, and the Herricks.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a keen glance. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the Herricks?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why don't you go to see them sometimes? Miles—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miles Herrick's all right. I know that,” he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “It's very bad for you to cut yourself off from the rest of the world, as + you do,” persisted Sara sagely. + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a while, his eyes intent on the strip of road that + stretched in front of him, and when he spoke again it was to draw her + attention to the effect of the cloud shadows moving across the sea, + exactly as though nothing of greater interest had been under discussion. + </p> + <p> + She began to recognize as a trick of his this abrupt method of terminating + a conversation that for some reason did not please him. It was as + conclusive as when the man at the other end of the 'phone suddenly “rings + off” without any preliminary warning. + </p> + <p> + By this time they had reached the steep hill that approached directly to + the Selwyns' house, and a couple of minutes later, Trent brought the car + to a standstill at the gate. + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing to thank me for,” he said, curtly dismissing her + expression of thanks as they stood together on the path. “It is I who + should be grateful to you. My opportunities of social intercourse”—drily—“are + somewhat limited.” + </p> + <p> + “Extend them, then, as I advised,” retorted Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish me to?” he asked swiftly, and his intent eyes sought her face + with a sudden hawk-like glance. + </p> + <p> + Her own eyes fell. She was conscious, all at once, of an inexplicable + agitation, a tremulous confusion that made it seem a physical + impossibility to reply. + </p> + <p> + But he still waited for his answer, and, at last, with an effort she + mastered the nervousness that had seized her. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—yes, I do wish it,” she said faintly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <h3> + A MEETING AT ROSE COTTAGE + </h3> + <p> + It had not taken Sara very long to cut a niche for herself in the + household at Sunnyside. In a dwelling where the master of the house was + away the greater part of the day, the mistress a chronic invalid, and the + daughter a beautiful young thing whose mind was intent upon “colour” and + “atmosphere,” and altogether hazy concerning the practical necessities of + housekeeping, the advent of any one possessing even half Sara's + intelligent efficiency would have been provocative of many reforms. + </p> + <p> + Dick Selwyn, pushed to the uttermost limits of his strength by the demands + of his wide practice and by the nervous strain of combating his wife's + incessant fretfulness, quickly learned to turn to Sara for that + sympathetic understanding which had hitherto been denied him in his + home-life. + </p> + <p> + He had, of course, never again discussed with her his wife's incurable + self-absorption, as on the day of her arrival, when the painful scene + created by Mrs. Selwyn had practically forced him into some sort of + explanation, but Sara's quick grasp of the situation had infinitely + simplified matters, and by devoting a considerable amount of her own time + to the entertainment of the captious invalid, and thus keeping her in a + good humour, she contrived to save Selwyn many a bad half-hour of + recrimination and complaint. + </p> + <p> + Sara was essentially a good “comrade,” as Patrick Lovell had recognized in + the old days at Barrow Court, and instinctively Selwyn came to share with + her the pin-prick worries that dog a man's footsteps in this vale of woe, + learning to laugh at them; and even his apprehensions concerning Molly's + ultimate development and welfare were lessened by the knowledge that Sara + was at hand. + </p> + <p> + Molly herself seemed to float through life like a big, beautiful moth, + sailing serenely along, and now and then blundering into things, but never + learning by experience the dangers of such blunders. One day, in the + course of her inconsequent path through life, she would probably flutter + too near the attractive blaze of some perilous fire, just as a moth flies + against the flame of a candle and singes its frail, soft wings in the + process. + </p> + <p> + It was of this that Sara was inwardly afraid, realizing, perhaps more + clearly than the girl's overworked and sometimes absent-minded father, the + risks attaching to her temperament. + </p> + <p> + Of late, Molly had manifested a certain moodiness and irritability very + unlike her usual facile sweetness of disposition, and Sara was somewhat + nonplussed to account for it. Finally, she approached the matter by way of + a direct inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong, Molly?” + </p> + <p> + Molly was hunched up in the biggest and shabbiest armchair by the fire, + smoking innumerable cigarettes and flinging them away half-finished. At + Sara's question, she looked up with a shade of defiance in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why should anything be wrong?” she countered, obviously on the defensive. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I'm sure,” responded Sara good-humouredly. “But I'm pretty + certain there is something. Come, out with it, you great baby!” + </p> + <p> + Molly sighed, smoked furiously for a moment, and then tossed her cigarette + into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes,” she admitted at last. “There is—something wrong.” She + rose and stood looking across at Sara like a big, perplexed child. “I—I + owe some money.” + </p> + <p> + Sara was conscious of a distinct shock. + </p> + <p> + “How much?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's rather a lot—twenty pounds!” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty pounds!” This was certainly a large sum for Molly—whose + annual dress allowance totaled very little more—to be in debt. “What + on earth have you been up to? Buying a new trousseau? Where do you owe it—Carr + & Bishop's?”—mentioning the principal draper's shop in + Oldhampton. + </p> + <p> + “No. I—don't owe it to a shop at all. It's—it's a bridge + debt!” The confession came out rather hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + Sara's face grew grave. + </p> + <p> + “But, Molly, you little fool, you've no business to be playing bridge. + Where have you been playing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we play sometimes at the studios—when the light's too bad to go + on painting, you know”—airily. + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” said Sara, “the artists' club people play?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Sara frowned. She knew that Molly was one of the youngest members of this + club of rather irresponsible and happy-go-lucky folk, and privately + considered that Selwyn had made a great mistake in ever allowing her to + join it. It embodied, as she had discovered by inquiry, some of the most + rapid elements of Oldhampton's society, and was, moreover, open to receive + as temporary members artists who come from other parts of the country to + paint in the neighbourhood. More than one well-known name had figured in + the temporary membership list, and, in addition, the name of certain <i>dilettanti</i> + to whom the freedom from convention of the artistic life signified far + more that art itself. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” said Sara slowly, “how they let you go on playing + until you owed twenty pounds. Don't you square up at the end of the + afternoon's play?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I'd—I'd been losing badly, and—and some one lent me + the money.” + </p> + <p> + Molly flushed a bewitching rose-colour and appealed with big, pathetic + eyes. It was difficult to be righteously wroth with her, but Sara steeled + her heart. + </p> + <p> + “You'd no right to borrow,” she said shortly. + </p> + <p> + “No. I know I hadn't. But, don't you see, I thought I should be sure to + win it all back? I couldn't ask Dad for it. Every penny he can spare goes + on something that mother can't possibly do without,” added the girl with + unwonted bitterness. + </p> + <p> + The latter fact was incontrovertible, and Sara remained silent. In her own + mind she regarded Mrs. Selwyn as a species of vampire, sucking out all + that was good, and sweet, and wholesome from the lives of those about her—even + that of her own daughter. Did the woman realize, she wondered, that + instead of being the help all mothers were sent into the world to be, she + was nothing but a hindrance and a stumbling-block? + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to do, I simply don't.” Molly's humble, dejected tones + broke through the current of Sara's thoughts. “You see, the worst of it + is”—she blushed even more bewitchingly than before—“that I owe + it to a <i>man</i>. It's detestable owing money to a man!”—with + suppressed irritation. + </p> + <p> + Two fine lines drew themselves between Sara's level brows. This was worse + than she had imagined. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” she asked, at last, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Lester Kent.” + </p> + <p> + “And who—or what—is Lester Kent?” + </p> + <p> + “He's—he's an artist—by choice. I mean,” stumbled Molly, “that + he's quite well off—he only paints for pleasure. He often runs down + from town for a month or two at a time and takes out a temporary + membership for our club.” + </p> + <p> + “And he has lent you this money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes”—rather shamefacedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he must be paid back at once. At once, do you understand? I will + give you the twenty pounds—you're not to bother your father about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sara! You are a blessed duck!” + </p> + <p> + In an instant Molly's cares had slipped from her shoulders, and she beamed + across at her deliverer with the most disarming gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment,” continued Sara firmly. “You must never borrow from Mr. + Kent—or any one else—again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I won't! Indeed, I won't!” Molly was fervent in her assurances. “I've + been wretched over this. Although”—brightening—“Lester Kent + was really most awfully nice about it. He said it didn't matter one bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he indeed?” Sara spoke rather grimly. “And how old is this Lester + Kent?” + </p> + <p> + “How old? Oh”—vaguely—“thirty-five—forty, perhaps. I + really don't know. Somehow he's not the sort of person whose age one + thinks about.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, he's old enough to know better than to be lending you money to + play bridge with,” commented Sara. “I wish you'd give up playing, Molly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I couldn't!” coaxingly. “We play for very small stakes—as a + rule. But it <i>is</i> amusing, Sara. And, you know this place is as dull + as ditchwater unless one does <i>something</i>. But I won't get into debt + again—I really won't.” + </p> + <p> + Molly had all the caressing charm of a nice kitten, and now that the + pressing matter of her indebtedness to Lester Kent was settled, she + relapsed into her usual tranquil, happy-go-lucky self. She rubbed her + cheek confidingly against Sara's. + </p> + <p> + “You are a pet angel, Sara, my own,” she said. “I'm so glad you adopted + us. Now I can go to the Herricks' tea-party this afternoon without having + that twenty pounds nagging at the back of my mind all the time. I suppose”—glancing + at the clock—“it's time we put on our glad rags. The Lavender Lady + said she expected us at four.” + </p> + <p> + Half-an-hour later, Molly reappeared, looking quite impossibly lovely in a + frock of the cheapest kind of material, “run up” by the local dressmaker, + and very evidently with no other thought “at the back of her mind” than of + the afternoon's entertainment. + </p> + <p> + The tea-party was a small one, commensurate with the size of the rooms at + Rose Cottage, and included only Sara and Molly, Mrs. Maynard, and, to + Sara's surprise, Garth Trent. + </p> + <p> + As she entered the room, he turned quietly from the window where he had + been standing looking out at the Herricks' charming garden. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Trent”—Miss Lavinia fluttered forward—“let me introduce + you to Miss Tennant.” + </p> + <p> + The Lavender Lady's pretty, faded blue eyes beamed benevolently on him. + She was so <i>very</i> glad that “that poor, lonely fellow at Far End” had + at last been induced to desert the solitary fastnesses of Monk's Cliff, + but as she was simply terrified at the prospect of entertaining him + herself—and Audrey Maynard seemed already fully occupied, chatting + with Miles—she was only too thankful to turn him across to Sara's + competent hands. + </p> + <p> + “We've met before, Miss Lavinia,” said Trent, and over her head his hazel + eyes met Sara's with a gamin amusement dancing in them. “Miss Tennant + kindly called on me at Far End.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't know.” Little Miss Lavinia gazed in a puzzled fashion from + one to the other of her guests. “Sara, my dear, you never told me that you + and Dr. Selwyn had called on Mr. Trent.” + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lavender Lady—we didn't. Neither of us would have dared to + insult Mr. Trent by doing anything so conventional.” The black eyes + flashed back defiance at the hazel ones. “I got caught in a storm on the + Monk's Cliff, and Mr. Trent—much against his will, I'm certain”—maliciously—“offered + me shelter.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that was kind of him. I'm sure Sara must have been most grateful to + you.” And the kind old face smiled up into Trent's dark, bitter one so + simply and sincerely that it seemed as though, for the moment, some of the + bitterness melted away. Not even so confirmed a misanthrope as the hermit + of Far End could have entirely resisted the Lavender Lady, with her serene + aroma of an old-world courtesy and grace long since departed from these + hurrying twentieth-century days. + </p> + <p> + She moved away to the tea-table, leaving Trent and Sara standing together + in the bay of the window. + </p> + <p> + “So you are overcoming your distaste for visiting,” said Sara a little + nervously. “I didn't expect to meet you here.” + </p> + <p> + His glance held hers. + </p> + <p> + “You wished it,” he answered gravely. + </p> + <p> + A sudden colour flamed up into the warm pallor of her skin. + </p> + <p> + “Are you suggesting I invited you to meet me here?” she responded, + willfully misinterpreting him. She shook her read regretfully. “You must + have misunderstood me. I should never have imposed such a strain on your + politeness.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes glinted. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he said quietly, “that I should very much like to shake + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad,” she answered heartily. “It's a devastating feeling! You made + me feel just the same the day I travelled with you. So now we're quits.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you—please—try to forget that day in the train?” he + said quickly. “I behaved like a bore. I'm afraid I've no real excuse to + offer, except that I'd been reminded of something that happened long ago—and + I wanted to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “To enjoy the memory in solitude?” hazarded Sara flippantly. She was still + nervous and talking rather at random, scarcely heeding what she said. + </p> + <p> + A look of bitter irony crossed his face. + </p> + <p> + “Hardly that,” he said shortly, and Sara knew that somehow she had again + inadvertently laid her hand upon an old hurt. She spoke with a sudden + change of voice. + </p> + <p> + “Then, as the train doesn't hold pleasant memories for either of us, let's + forget it,” she suggested gently. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what that implies?” he asked. “It implies that you are + willing to be friends. Do you mean that?”—incisively. + </p> + <p> + She nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said curtly, and then Audrey Maynard's gay voice broke + across the tension of the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Trent, I simply cannot allow Sara to monopolize you any longer. Now + that we <i>have</i> succeeded in dragging the hermit out of his shell, we + all want a share of his society, please.” + </p> + <p> + Trent turned instantly, and Sara slipped across the room and took the + place Audrey had vacated by Miles's couch. He greeted her coming with a + smile, but there were shadows of fatigue beneath his eyes, and his lips + were rather white and drawn-looking. + </p> + <p> + “This is a lazy way to receive visitors, isn't it?” he said + apologetically. “But my game leg's given out to-day, so you must forgive + me.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's glance swept his face with quick sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “You oughtn't to be at the 'party' at all,” she said. “You look far too + tired to be bothered with a parcel of chattering women.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he whispered humorously, “that, although you're quite the + four nicest women I know, the shameful truth is that I'm really here on + behalf of the one man! I met him yesterday in the town and booked him for + this afternoon, and, having at last dislodged him from his lone pinnacle, + I hadn't the heart to leave him unsupported.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm glad you dug him out, Miles. It was clever of you.” + </p> + <p> + “It will give Monkshaven something to talk about, anyway”—whimsically. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose”—the toe of Sara's narrow foot was busily tracing a + pattern on the carpet—“I suppose you don't know why he shuts himself + up like that at Far End?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't,” he answered. “But I'd wager it's for some better reason + than people give him credit for. Or it may be merely a preference for his + own society. Anyway, it is no business of ours.” Then, swiftly softening + the suggestion of reproof contained in his last sentence, he added: “Don't + encourage me to gossip, Sara. When a man's tied by the leg, as I am, it's + all he can do to curb a tendency towards tattling village scandal like + some garrulous old woman.” + </p> + <p> + It was evident that the presence of visitors was inflicting a considerable + strain on Herrick's endurance, and, as though by common consent, the + little party broke up shortly after tea. + </p> + <p> + Molly expressed her intention of accompanying Mrs. Maynard back to + Greenacres—the beautiful house which the latter had had built to her + own design, overlooking the bay—in order to inspect the pretty + widow's recent purchase of a new motor-car. + </p> + <p> + Trent turned to Sara with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then it devolves on me to see you safely home, Miss Tennant, may I?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded permission, and they set off through the high-hedged lane, Sara + hurrying along at top speed. + </p> + <p> + For a few minutes Trent strode beside her in silence. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Are you catching a train?” he inquired mildly. “Or is it only that you + want to be rid of my company in the shortest possible time?” + </p> + <p> + She coloured, moderating her pace with an effort. Once again the odd + nervousness engendered by his presence had descended on her. It was as + though something in the man's dominating personality strung all her nerves + to a high tension of consciousness, and she felt herself overwhelmingly + sensible of his proximity. + </p> + <p> + He smiled down at her. + </p> + <p> + “Then—if you're not in any hurry to get home—will you let me + take you round by Crabtree Moor? It's part of a small farm of mine, and I + want a word with my tenant.” + </p> + <p> + Sara acquiesced, and, Trent, having speedily transacted the little matter + of business with his tenant, they made their way across a stretch of wild + moorland which intersected the cultivated fields lying on either hand. + </p> + <p> + In the dusk of the evening, with the wan light of the early moon deepening + the shadows and transforming the clumps of furze into strange, + unrecognizable shapes of darkness, it was an eerie enough place. Sara + shivered a little, instinctively moving closer to her companion. And then, + as they rounded a furze-crowned hummock, out of the hazy twilight, loping + along on swift, padding feet, emerged the figure of a man. + </p> + <p> + With a muttered curse he swerved aside, but Trent's arm shot out, and, + catching him by the shoulder, he swung him round so that he faced them. + </p> + <p> + “Leggo!” he muttered, twisting in Trent's iron grasp. “Leggo, can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can, but I'm not going to,” said Trent coolly. “At least, not till + you've explained your presence here. This is private property. What are + you doing on it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm doing no harm,” growled the man sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “No?” Trent passed his free hand swiftly down the fellow's body, feeling + the bulge of his coat. “Then what's the meaning of those rabbits sticking + out under your coat? Now, look here, my man, I know you. You're Jim Brady, + and it's not the first, nor the second, time I've caught you poaching on + my land. But it's the last. Understand that? This time the Bench shall + deal with you.” + </p> + <p> + The man was silent for a moment. Then suddenly he burst out: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, sir, pass it over this time. My missus is ill. She's mortal + bad, God's truth she is, and haven't eaten nothing this three days past. + An' I thought mebbe a bit o' stewed rabbit 'ud tempt 'er.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” Trent was beginning contemptuously, when Sara leaned forward, + peering into the poacher's face. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” she exclaimed. “It's Brady—Black Brady from Fallowdene.” + </p> + <p> + Ne'er-do-well as he was, the mere fact that he came from Fallowdene warmed + her heart towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss, that's so,” he answered readily. “And you're the young lady + what used to live at Barrow Court.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know this man?” Trent asked her. + </p> + <p> + “'Bout as well as you do, sir,” volunteered Brady with an impudent grin. + “Catched me poachin' one morning. Fired me gun at 'er, too, I did, to + frighten 'er,” he continued reminiscently. “And she never blinked. You're + a good-plucked 'un, miss,”—with frank admiration. + </p> + <p> + Sara looked at the man doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you lived here,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It's my native village, miss, Monks'aven is. But I didn't think 'twas too + 'healthy for me down here, back along”—grinning—“so I shifted + to Fallowdene, where me grandmother lives. I came back here to marry + Bessie Windrake' she've stuck to me like a straight 'un. But I didn't mean + to get collared poachin' again. Me and Bess was goin' to live respectable. + 'Twas her bein' ill and me out of work w'at did it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him go,” said Sara, appealing to Trent. But he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I can't do that,” he answered with decision. + </p> + <p> + “Not 'im, miss, 'e won't,” broke in Brady. “'E's not the soft-'earted + kind, isn't Mr. Trent.” + </p> + <p> + Trent's brows drew together ominously. + </p> + <p> + “You won't mend matters by impudence, Brady,” he said sharply. “Get along + now”—releasing his hold of the man's arm—“but you'll hear of + this again.” + </p> + <p> + Brady shot away into the darkness like an arrow, probably chortling to + himself that his captor had omitted to relieve him of the brace of rabbits + he had poached; and Sara, turning again to Trent, renewed her plea for + clemency. + </p> + <p> + But Trent remained adamant. + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't he stand his punishment like any other man?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it's true that his wife is ill, and that he has been out of work—” + </p> + <p> + “Are you offering those facts as an excuse for dishonesty?” asked Trent + drily. + </p> + <p> + Sara smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe I am,” she acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Like nine-tenths of your sex, you are fiercely Tory in theory and a rank + socialist in practice,” he grumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not sure that that isn't a very good working basis to go on,” + she retorted. + </p> + <p> + As they stood in the porch at Sunnyside, she made yet one more effort to + smooth matters over for the evil-doer, but Trent's face still showed + unrelenting in the light that streamed out through the open doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Ask me something else,” he said. “I would do anything to please you, + Sara, except”—with a sudden tense decision—“except interfere + with the course of justice. Let every man pay the penalty for his own + sin.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a hard creed,” objected Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Hard?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps it is. But”—grimly—“it's + the only creed I believe in. Good-night”—he held out his hand + abruptly. “I'm sorry I can't do as you ask about Jim Brady.” + </p> + <p> + Before Sara could reply, he was striding away down the path, and a minute + later the darkness had hidden him from view. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + TWO ON AN ISLAND + </h3> + <p> + Sara's conviction that Garth Trent would not be easily turned from any + decision that he might take had been confirmed very emphatically over the + matter of Black Brady. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the fact that the man's story of his wife's illness proved + to be perfectly genuine, Trent persisted that he must take his punishment, + and all that Sara could do by way of mitigation was to promise Brady that + she would pay the amount of any fine which might be imposed. + </p> + <p> + Brady, however, was not optimistic. + </p> + <p> + “There'll be no opshun of a fine, miss,” he told her. “I've a-been up + before the gen'lemen too many times”—grinning. “But if so be you'd + give an eye to Bessie here, whiles I'm in quod, I'd take it very kind of + you.” + </p> + <p> + His forecast summed up the situation with lamentable accuracy. No option + of a fine was given, and during the brief space that the prison doors + closed upon him, Sara saw to the welfare of his invalid wife, thereby + winning the undying devotion of Black Brady's curiously composite soul. + </p> + <p> + When he again found himself at liberty, she induced the frankly unwilling + proprietor of the Cliff Hotel—the only hotel of any pretension to + which Monkshaven could lay claim—to take him into his employment as + an odd-job man. How she accomplished this feat it is impossible to say, + but the fact remains that she did accomplish it, and perhaps Jane Crab + delved to the root of the matter in the terse comment which the + circumstances elicited from her: “Miss Tennant has a way with her that 'ud + make they stone sphinxes gallop round the desert if so be she'd a mind + they should.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently, however, the sphinx of Far End was compounded of even more + adamantine substance than his feminine prototype, for he exhibited a + mulish aversion to budging an inch—much less galloping—in the + direction Sara had indicated as desirable. + </p> + <p> + The two quarreled vehemently over the matter, and a glacial atmosphere of + hostility prevailed between them during the period of Black Brady's + incarceration. + </p> + <p> + Garth, undeniably the victor, was the first to open peace negotiations, + and a few days subsequent to Brady's release from prison, he waylaid Sara + in the town. + </p> + <p> + She was preoccupied with numerous small, unnecessary commissions to be + executed for Mrs. Selwyn at half-a-dozen different shops, and she would + have passed him by with a frosty little bow had he not halted in front of + her and deliberately held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning!” he said, blithely disregarding the coolness of his + reception. “Am I still in disgrace? Brady's been restored to the bosom of + his family for at least five days now, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Overhead, the sun was shining gloriously in an azure sky flecked with + little bunchy white clouds like floating pieces of cotton-wool, while an + April breeze, fragrant of budding leaf and blossom, rollicked up the + street. It seemed almost as though the frolicsome atmosphere of spring had + permeated even the shell of the hermit and got into his system, for there + was something incorrigibly boyish and youthful about him this morning. His + cheerful smile was infectious. + </p> + <p> + “Can't I be restored, too?” he asked + </p> + <p> + “Restored to what?” asked Sara, trying to resist the contagion of his good + humour. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well”—a faint shadow dimmed the sparkle in his eyes—“to + the same old place I held before our squabble over Brady—just + friends, Sara.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she hesitated. He had pitted his will against hers and won, + hands down, and she felt distinctly resentful. But she knew that in a + strange, unforeseen way their quarrel had hurt her inexplicably. She had + hated meeting the cool, aloof expression of his eyes, and now, urged by + some emotion of which she was, as yet, only dimly conscious, she + capitulated. + </p> + <p> + “That's good,” he said contentedly. “And you might just as well give in + now as later,” he added, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” she protested, “you're a bully.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I am—I glory in it! But now, just to show that you really do + mean to be friends again, will you let me row you across to Devil's Hood + Island this afternoon? You told me once that you wanted to go there.” + </p> + <p> + Sara considered the proposition for a moment, then nodded consent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll come,” she said, “I should like to.” + </p> + <p> + Devil's Hood Island was a chip off the mainland which had managed to keep + its head above water when the gradually encroaching sea had stolen yet + another mile from the coast. Sandy dunes, patched here and there with + clumps of coarse, straggling rushes, sloped upward from the rock-strewn + shore to a big crag that crowned its further side—a curious natural + formation which had given the island its name. + </p> + <p> + It was shaped like a great overhanging hood, out of which, crudely + suggested by the configuration of the rock, peered a diabolical face, + weather-worn to the smoothness of polished marble. + </p> + <p> + April was still doing her best to please, with blue skies and soft + fragrant airs, when Garth gave a final push-off to the <i>Betsy Anne</i>, + and bent to his oars as she skimmed out over the top of the waves with her + nose towards Devil's Hood Island. + </p> + <p> + Sara, comfortably ensconced amid a nest of cushions in the stern of the + boat, pointed to a square-shaped basket of quite considerable dimensions, + tucked away beneath one of the seats. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” she asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + Trent's eyes followed the direction of her glance. + </p> + <p> + “That? Oh, that's our tea. You didn't imagine I was going to starve you, + did you? I think we shall find that Mrs. Judson has provided all we want.” + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed across at him. + </p> + <p> + “What a thoughtful man you are!” she said gaily. “Fancy a hermit + remembering a woman's crucial need of tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't credit me with too much self-effacement!” he grinned. “I enjoyed + the last occasion when you were my guest, so I'm repeating the + prescription.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, even deducting for the selfish motive, you're progressing,” she + answered. “I see you developing into quite an ornament to society in + course of time.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” he ejaculated piously. + </p> + <p> + Sara looked entertained. + </p> + <p> + “Apparently your ambitions don't lie in that direction?” she rallied him. + </p> + <p> + “There is no question of such a catastrophe occurring. I've told you that + society—as such—and I have finished with each other.” + </p> + <p> + His face clouded over, and for a while he sculled in silence, driving the + <i>Betsy Anne</i> through the blue water with strong, steady strokes. + </p> + <p> + Sara was vividly conscious of the suggestion of supple strength conveyed + by the rippling play of muscle beneath the white skin of his arms, bared + to the elbow, and by the pliant swing of his body to each sure, rhythmical + stroke. + </p> + <p> + She recollected that one of her earliest impressions concerning him had + been of the sheer force of the man—the lithe, flexible strength like + that of tempered steel—and she wondered whether this were entirely + due to his magnificent physique or owed its impulse, in part, to some + mental quality in him. Her eyes travelled reflectively to the lean, + square-jawed face, with its sensitive, bitter-looking mouth and its fine + modeling of brow and temple, as though seeking there the answer to her + questionings, and with a sudden, intuitive instinct of reliance, she felt + that behind all his cynicism and surface hardness, there lay a quiet, sure + strength of soul that would not fail whoever trusted it. + </p> + <p> + Yet he always spoke as though in some way his life had been a failure—as + though he had met, and been defeated, by a shrewd blow of fate. + </p> + <p> + Sara found it difficult to associate the words failure and defeat with her + knowledge of his dominating personality and force of will, and the natural + curiosity which had been aroused in her mind by his strange mode of life, + with its deliberate isolation, and by the aroma of mystery which seemed to + cling about him, deepened. + </p> + <p> + Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown, as she inwardly sought for + some explanation of the many inconsistencies she had encountered even in + the short time that she had known him. + </p> + <p> + His abrupt alterations from reticence to unreserved; his avowed dislike of + women and the contradictory enjoyment which he seemed to find in her + society; his love of music and of beautiful surroundings—alike + indicative of a cultivated appreciation and experience of the good things + of this world—and the solitary, hermit-like existence which he yet + chose to lead—all these incongruities of temperament and habit wove + themselves into an enigma which she found impossible to solve. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are!” + </p> + <p> + Garth's voice recalled her abruptly from her musings to find that the <i>Betsy + Anne</i> was swaying gently alongside a little wooden landing-stage. + </p> + <p> + “But how civilized!” she exclaimed. “One does not expect to find a jetty + on a desert-island.” + </p> + <p> + Trent laughed grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Devil's Hood is far from being a desert island in the summer, when the + tourists come this way. They swarm over it.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst he was speaking, he had made fast the painter, and he now stepped + out on to the landing-stage. Sara prepared to follow him. For a moment she + stood poised with one foot on the gunwale of the boat, then, as an + incoming wave drove the little skiff suddenly against the wooden supports + of the jetty, she staggered, lost her balance, and toppled helplessly + backward. + </p> + <p> + But even as she fell, Garth's arms closed round her like steel bars, and + she felt herself lifted clean up from the rocking boat on to the + landing-stage. For an instant she knew that she rested a dead weight + against his breast; then he placed her very gently on her feet. + </p> + <p> + “All right?” he queried, steadying her with his hand beneath her arm. + “That was a near shave.” + </p> + <p> + His queer hazel eyes were curiously bright, and Sara, meeting their gaze, + felt her face flame scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “Quite, thanks,” she said a little breathlessly, adding: “You must be very + strong.” + </p> + <p> + She moved her arm as though trying to free it from his clasp, and he + released it instantly. But his face was rather white as he knelt down to + lift out the tea-basket, and he, too, was breathing quickly. + </p> + <p> + Somewhat silently they made their way up the sandy slope that stretched + ahead of them, and presently, as they mounted the last rise, the + malignant, distorted face beneath the Devil's Hood leaped into view, + granite-grey and menacing against the young blue of the April sky. + </p> + <p> + “What a perfectly horrible head!” exclaimed Sara, gazing at it aghast. + “It's like a nightmare of some kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's not pretty,” admitted Garth. “The mouth has a sort of + malevolent leer, hasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It has, indeed. One can hardly believe that it is just a natural + formation.” + </p> + <p> + “It's always a hotly debated point whether the devil and his hood are + purely the work of nature or not. My own impression is that to a certain + extent they are, but that someone—centuries ago—being struck + by the resemblance of the rock to a human face, added a few touches to + complete the picture.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whoever did it must have had a bizarre imagination to perpetuate + such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “The handiwork—if handiwork it is—is attributed to Friar + Anselmo—the Spanish monk who broke his vows and escaped to + Monkshaven, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Sara looked interested. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know,” she said. “Tell me about him. He sounds quite + exciting.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't meant to say no one has enlightened you as to the gentleman + whose exploit gave the town its name of Monkshaven?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm afraid my education as far as local history is concerned has been + shamefully neglected. Do make good the deficiencies”—smiling. + </p> + <p> + Garth laughed a little. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I will. I always have a kind of fellow-feeling for Friar + Anselmo. But I propose we investigate the tea-basket first.” + </p> + <p> + They established themselves beneath the shelter of a big boulder, Garth + first spreading a rug which he had brought from the boat for Sara to sit + on. Then he unstrapped the tea-basket, and it became evident either that + Mrs. Judson had a genius for assembling together the most fascinating + little cakes and savoury sandwiches, accompanied by fragrant tea, hot from + a thermos flask, or else that she had acted under instructions from some + one to whom the cult of afternoon tea as sublimated by Rumpelmayer was not + an unknown quantity. Sara, sipping her tea luxuriously, decided in favour + of the latter explanation. + </p> + <p> + “For a confirmed misogynist,” she observed later on, when, the feast over, + he was repacking the basket, “you have a very complete understanding of a + woman's weakness for tea.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a case of cause and effect. A misogynist”—caustically—“is + the product of a very complete understanding of most feminine weaknesses.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's slender figure tautened a little. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she said, speaking a little indignantly, “that it is quite + nice of you to invite me out to a picnic and then to launch remarks of + that description at my head?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't,” he acknowledged bluntly. “It's making you pay some one + else's bill.” His lean brown hand closed suddenly over hers. “Forgive me, + Sara!” + </p> + <p> + The abrupt intensity of his manner was out of all proportion to the merely + surface friction of the moment; and Sara, sensing something deeper and of + more significance behind it, hurriedly switched the conversation into a + less personal channel. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said lightly, disengaging her hand. “I'll forgive you, + and you shall tell me about Friar Anselmo.” She lifted her eyes to the + leering, sinister face that protruded from the Devil's Hood. “As, + presumably, from his choice of a profession, he, too, had no love for + women, you ought to enjoy telling his story,” she added maliciously. + </p> + <p> + Garth's eyes twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact, it was love o' women that was Anselmo's undoing,” he + said. “In spite of his vows, he fell in love—with a very beautiful + Spanish lady, and to make matters worse, if that were possible, the lady + was possessed of a typically jealous Spanish husband, who, on discovering + how the land lay, killed his wife, and would have killed Anselmo as well, + but that he escaped to England. The vessel on which he sailed was wrecked + at the foot of what has been called, ever since, the Monk's Cliff; but + Anselmo himself succeeded in swimming ashore, and spent the remainder of + his life at Monkshaven, doing penance for the mistakes of his earlier + days.” + </p> + <p> + “He chose a charming place to repent in,” said Sara, her eyes wandering to + the distant bay, where the quaint little town straggled picturesquely up + the hill that sloped away from the coast. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” responded Garth slowly, “it's not a bad place—to repent in. . + . . It would be a better place still—to love and be happy in.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brooding melancholy in his tones, and Sara, hearing it, spoke + very gently. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will find it—like that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I?” He laughed hardly. “No! Those gifts of the gods are not for such as + I. The husks are my portion. If it were not so”—his voice deepened + to a sudden urgent note that moved her strangely—“if it were not so—” + </p> + <p> + As though in spite of himself, his arms moved gropingly towards her. Then, + with a muttered exclamation, he turned away and sprang hastily to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go back,” he said abruptly, and Sara, shaken by his vehemence, + rose obediently, and they began to retrace their steps. + </p> + <p> + It had grown much colder. The sun hung low in the horizon, and the + deceptive warmth of mid-afternoon had given place to the chill dampness in + the atmosphere. Half unconsciously, feeling that the time must have + slipped away more rapidly than she had suspected, Sara quickened her + steps, Garth striding silently at her side. Presently the little wooden + jetty came into view once more. It bore a curiously bare, deserted aspect, + the waves riding and falling sluggishly on either side of its black, + tarred planking, Sara stared at it incredulously, then an exclamation of + sheer dismay burst from her lips. + </p> + <p> + “The boat! Look! It's gone!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Gone?</i>” Garth's eyes sought the landing-stage, then swept the vista + of grey-water ahead of them. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Damn!</i>” he ejaculated forcibly. “She's got adrift!” + </p> + <p> + A brown speck, bobbing maddeningly up and down in the distance and + momentarily drifting further and further out to sea on the ebbing tide, + was all that could be seen of the <i>Betsy Anne</i>. + </p> + <p> + An involuntary chuckle broke from Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Marooned!” she exclaimed. “How amusing!” + </p> + <p> + “Amusing?” Trent looked at her with a concerned expression. “It might be, + if it were eleven o'clock in the morning. But it's the wrong end of the + day. It will be dark before long.” He paused, then asked swiftly: “Does + any one at Sunnyside know where you are this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The doctor and Molly were both out to lunch—and you know we + only planned this trip this morning. I haven't seen them since. Why do you + ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, if they know, they'd send over in search of us if we didn't turn + up in the course of the next hour or so. But if they don't know where you + are, we stand an excellent chance of spending the night here.” + </p> + <p> + The gravity of what had first struck her as merely an amusing <i>contretemps</i> + suddenly presented itself to Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—!” She drew her breath in sharply. “What—what on earth + shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do?” Garth spoke with grim force. “Why, you must be got off the island + somehow. If not, you're fair game for every venomous tongue in the town.” + </p> + <p> + “Would any one hear us from the shore if we shouted?” she suggested. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No. The sound would carry in the opposite direction to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what <i>can</i> we do?” + </p> + <p> + By this time the manifest anxiety in Trent's face was reflected in her + own. The possibility that they might be compelled to spend the night on + Devil's Hood Island was not one that could be contemplated with + equanimity, for Sara had no illusions whatever as to the charitableness of + the view the world at large would take of such an episode—however + accidental its occurrence. Unfortunately, essential innocence is + frequently but a poor tool wherewith to scotch a scandal. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one thing to be done,” said Garth at last, after + fruitlessly scanning the waters for any stray fishing-boat that might be + passing. “I must swim across, and then row back and take you off.” + </p> + <p> + “Swim across?” Sara regarded the distance between the island and the shore + with consternation. “You couldn't possibly do it. It's too far.” + </p> + <p> + “Just under a mile.” + </p> + <p> + “But you would have the tide against you,” she urged. The current off the + coast ran with dangerous rapidity between the mainland and the island, and + more than one strong swimmer, as Sara knew, had lost his life struggling + against it. + </p> + <p> + She looked across to the further shore again, and all at once it seemed + impossible to let Garth make the attempt. + </p> + <p> + “No! no! You can't go!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't be nervous at being alone here?” he asked doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + She stamped her foot. + </p> + <p> + “No! Of course not! But—oh! Don't you see? It's madness to think of + swimming across with the tide against you! You could never do it. You + might get cramp—Oh! Anything might happen! You shan't go!” + </p> + <p> + She caught his arm impetuously, her eyes dilating with the sudden terror + that had laid hold of her. But he was obdurate. + </p> + <p> + “Look there,” he said, pointing to a faint haze thickening the atmosphere. + “Do you see the mist coming up? Very soon it will be all over us, like a + blanket, and there'd be no possibility of swimming across at all. I must + go at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But that only adds to the danger,” she argued desperately. “The fog may + come down sooner than you expect, and then you'd lose your bearings + altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “I must risk that,” he answered grimly. “Don't you realize that it's + impossible—<i>impossible</i> for us to remain here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't,” she returned stubbornly. “It isn't worth such a frightful + risk. Some one is sure to look for us eventually.” + </p> + <p> + “'Eventually' might mean to-morrow morning”—drily—“and that + would be just twelve hours too late. It's worth the risk fifty times + over.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not!”—passionately. “Do you suppose I care two straws for the + gossip of a parcel of spiteful old women?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at the moment, perhaps, but later you wouldn't be able to help it. + What people think of you, what they say of you, can make all the + difference between heaven and hell.” He spoke heavily, as though his words + were weighted with some deadening memory. “And do you think I could bear + to feel that I—<i>I</i> had given people a handle for gossiping + about you? I'd cut their tongues out first!” he added savagely. + </p> + <p> + He stripped off his coat, and, sitting down on a rock, began removing his + boots, while Sara stood watching him in silence with big, sombre eyes. + </p> + <p> + Presently he stood up, bareheaded and barefooted. Below the lean, tanned + face the column of his throat showed white as a woman's, while the thin + silk of his vest revealed the powerful line of shoulder at its base. His + keen eyes were gazing steadily across to the opposite shore, as though + measuring the distance he must traverse, and as a chance shaft from the + westering sun rested upon him, investing him momentarily in its radiance, + there seemed something rather splendid about him—something very sure + and steadfast and utterly without fear. + </p> + <p> + A sharp cry broke from Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Garth! Garth!”—his name sprang to her lips spontaneously. “You + mustn't go! You mustn't go! . . .” + </p> + <p> + He wheeled round, and at the sight of her white, strained face a sudden + light leapt into his eyes—the light of a great incredulity with, + back of it, an unutterable hope and longing. In two strides he was at her + side, his hands gripping her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Sara?—God in heaven!”—the words came hurrying from him, + hoarse and uneven—“I believe you care!” + </p> + <p> + For an instant he hesitated, seeming to hold himself in check, then he + caught her in his arms, kissing her fiercely on eyes and lips and throat. + </p> + <p> + “My dear! . . . Oh! My dear! . . .” + </p> + <p> + She could hear the broken words stammered through his hurried breathing as + she lay unresistingly in his arms; then she felt him put her from him, + gently, decisively, and she stood alone, swaying slightly. A long + shuddering sigh ran through her body. + </p> + <p> + “Garth!” + </p> + <p> + She never knew whether the word really passed her lips or whether it was + only the cry of her inmost being, so importunate, so urgent that it seemed + to take on actual sound. + </p> + <p> + There came no answer. He was gone, and through the light veil of the + encroaching mists she could see him shearing his way through the + leaden-coloured sea. + </p> + <p> + She remained motionless, her eyes straining after him. He was swimming + easily, with a powerful overhand stroke that carried him swiftly away from + the shore. A little sigh of relaxed tension fluttered between her lips. At + least, he was a magnificent swimmer—he had that much in his favour. + </p> + <p> + Then her glance spanned the channel to the further shore, and it seemed as + though an interminable waste of water stretched between. And all the time, + at every stroke, that mad, racing current was pulling against him, + fighting for possession of the strong, sinewy body battling against it. + </p> + <p> + She beat her hands together in an agony of fear. Why had she let him go? + What did it matter if people talked—what was a tarnished reputation + to set against a man's life? Oh! She had been mad to let him go! + </p> + <p> + The fog grew denser. Strain as she might, she could no longer see the dark + head above the water, the rise and fall of his arm like a white flail in + the murky light, and she realized that should exhaustion overtake him, or + the swift-running current beat him, drawing him under—she would not + even know? + </p> + <p> + A sickening sense of bitter impotence assailed her. There was nothing she + could do but wait—wait helplessly until either his return, or + endless hours of solitude, told her whether he had won or lost the fight + against that grey, hungry waste of water. A strangled sob burst from her + throat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God! Let him come back to me! Let him come back!” + </p> + <p> + The creak of straining rowlocks and the even plash of dripping oars, + muffled by the numbing curtain of the fog, broke through the silence. Then + followed the gentle thudding noise of a boat as it bumped against the + jetty and a voice—Garth's voice—calling. + </p> + <p> + She rose from the ground where she had flung herself and came to him, + peering at him with eyes that looked like two dark stains in the whiteness + of her face. + </p> + <p> + “I though you were dead,” she said dully. “Drowned. I mean—oh, of + course, it's the same thing, isn't it?” And she laughed, the shrill, + choking laughter of overwrought nerves. + </p> + <p> + Garth observed her narrowly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I've very much alive, thanks,” he said, speaking in deliberately + cheerful and commonplace accents. “But you look half frozen. Why on earth + didn't you put the rug round you? Get into the boat and let me tuck you + up.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed passively, and in a few minutes they were slipping over the + water as rapidly as the mist permitted. + </p> + <p> + Sara was very silent throughout the return journey. For hours, for an + eternity it seemed, she had been in the grip of a consuming terror, + culminating at last in the conviction that Garth had failed to make the + further shore. And now, with the knowledge of his safety, the reaction + from the tension of acute anxiety left her utterly flaccid and exhausted, + incapable of anything more than a half-stunned acceptance of the miracle. + </p> + <p> + When at last the Selwyns' house was reached, it was with a manifest effort + that she roused herself sufficiently to answer Garth's quiet apology for + the misadventure of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “If it was your fault that we got stranded on the island,” she said, + summoning up rather a wan smile, “it is, at all events, thanks to you that + I shall be sleeping under a respectable roof, instead of scandalizing half + the neighbourhood!” She paused, then went on uncertainly: “'Thank you' + seems ludicrously inadequate for all you've done—” + </p> + <p> + “I've done nothing,” he interrupted brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “You risked your life—” + </p> + <p> + An impatient exclamation broke from him. + </p> + <p> + “And if I did? I risked something of no value, I assure you—to + myself, or any one else.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added practically— + </p> + <p> + “Get Jane Crab to give you some hot soup and go to bed. You look + absolutely done.” + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded, smiling more naturally. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” she said. “Good-night, then.” She held out her hand a little + nervously. + </p> + <p> + He took it, holding it closely in his, and looking down at her with the + strange expression of a man who strives to impress upon his mind the + picture of a face he may not see again, so that in a lonely future he + shall find comfort in remembering. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye!” he said, at last, very gravely. Then a queer little smile, + half-bitter, half-tender, curving his lips, he added: “I shall always have + this one day for which to thank whatever gods there be.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + A REVOKE + </h3> + <p> + Sara lay long awake that night. Under Jane Crab's bluff and kindly + ministrations, her feeling of utter bodily exhaustion had given place to + an exquisite sense of mental and physical well-being, and, freed from the + shackles of material discomfort, her thoughts flew backward over the + events of the day. + </p> + <p> + All <i>was</i> well—gloriously, blessedly well! There could be no + misunderstanding that brief, passionate moment when Garth had held her in + his arms; and the blinding anguish of those hours which had followed, when + she had not known whether he were alive or dead, had shown her her own + heart. + </p> + <p> + Love had come to her—the love which Patrick Lovell had called the + one altogether good and perfect gift—and with it came a tremulous + unrest, a shy sweetness of desire that crept through all her veins like + the burning of a swift flame. + </p> + <p> + She felt no fear or shame of love. Sara would never be afraid of life and + its demands, and it seemed to her a matter of little moment that Garth had + made no conventional avowal of his love. She did not, on that account, + pretend, even to herself, as many women would have done, that her own + heart was untouched, but recognized and accepted the fact that love had + come to her with absolute simplicity. + </p> + <p> + Nor did she doubt or question Garth's feeling for her. She <i>knew</i>, in + every fibre of her being, that he loved her, and she was ready to wait + quite patiently and happily the few hours that must elapse before he could + come to her and tell her so. + </p> + <p> + Yet she longed, with a woman's natural longing, to hear him say in actual + words all that his whole attitude towards her had implied, craved for the + moment when the beloved voice should ask for that surrender which in + spirit she had already made. + </p> + <p> + She rose early, with a ridiculous feeling that it would bring the time a + little nearer, and Jane Crab stared in amazement when she appeared + downstairs while yet the preparations for breakfast were hardly in + progress. + </p> + <p> + “You're no worse for your outing, then, Miss Tennant,” she observed, + adding shrewdly: “I'd as lief think you were the better for it.” + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed, flushing a little. Somehow she did not mind the humorous + suspicion of the truth that twinkled in Jane's small, boot-button eyes, + but she sincerely hoped that the rest of the household would not prove + equally discerning. + </p> + <p> + She need have had no fears on that score. Dr. Selwyn had barely time to + swallow a cup of coffee and a slice of toast before rushing off in + response to an urgent summons from a patient, whilst Molly seemed entirely + preoccupied with the contents of a letter, in an unmistakably masculine + handwriting, which had come for her by the morning's post. As for Mrs. + Selwyn, she was always too much engrossed in analyzing the symptoms of + some fresh ailment she believed she had acquired to be sensible of the + emotional atmosphere of those around her. Her own sensations—whether + she were too hot, or not quite hot enough, whether her new tabloids were + suiting her or whether she had not slept as well as usual—occupied + her entire horizon. + </p> + <p> + This morning she was distressed because the hairpins Sara had purchased + for her the previous day differed slightly in shape from those she was in + the habit of using. + </p> + <p> + Sara explained that they were the only ones obtainable. + </p> + <p> + “At Bloxham's, you mean, dear. Oh, well, of course, you couldn't get any + others, then. Perhaps if you had tried another shop—” Mrs. Selwyn + paused, to let this suggestion sink in, then added brightly: “But, + naturally, I couldn't expect you to spend your whole morning going from + shop to shop looking for my particular kind of hairpin, could I?” + </p> + <p> + Sara, who had expended a solid hour over that very occupation, was + perfectly conscious of the reproach implied. She ignored it, however. Like + every one else in close contact with Mrs. Selwyn, she had learned to + accept the fact that the poor lady seriously believed that her whole life + was spent in bearing with admirable patience the total absence of + consideration accorded her. + </p> + <p> + When she descended from Mrs. Selwyn's room Sara was amazed to find that + the hands of the clock only indicated half-past ten. Surely no morning had + ever dragged itself away so slowly! + </p> + <p> + At two o'clock she and Molly were both due to lunch with Mrs. Maynard at + Greenacres, and she was radiantly aware that Garth Trent would be included + among the guests. Between them, Audrey, and the Herricks, and Sara had + succeeded in enticing the hermit within the charmed circle of their + friendship, and he could now be depended upon to join their little + gatherings—“provided,” as he had bluntly told Audrey, “that you can + put up with my manners and morals.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maynard had only laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not in the least likely to find fault with your manners,” she said + cheerfully. “They're really quite normal, and as for your morals, they are + your own affair, my dear man. Anyway, there is at least one bond between + us—Monkshaven heartily disapproves of both of us.” + </p> + <p> + Greenacres was a delightful place, built rather on the lines of a French + country house, with the sitting-rooms leading one into the other and each + opening in its turn on to a broad wooden verandah. The latter ran round + three sides of the house, and in summer the delicate pink of Dorothy + Perkins fought for supremacy with the deeper red of the Crimson Rambler, + converting it into a literal bower of roses. + </p> + <p> + Audrey was on the steps to greet the two girls when they arrived, looking, + as usual, as though she had just quitted the hands of an expert French + maid. It was in a great measure to the ultra-perfection of her toilette + that she owed the critical attitude accorded her by the feminine half of + Monkshaven. To the provincial mind, the fact that she dyed her hair, + ordered her frocks from Paris, and kept a French chef to cook her food, + were all so many indications of an altogether worldly and abandoned + character—and of a wealth that was secretly to be envied—and + the more venomous among Audrey's detractors lived in the perennial hope of + some day unveiling the scandal which they were convinced lay hidden in her + past. + </p> + <p> + Audrey was perfectly aware of the gossip of which she was the subject—and + completely indifferent to it. + </p> + <p> + “It amuses them,” she would say blithely, “and it doesn't hurt me in the + least. If Mr. Trent and I both left the neighbourhood, Monkshaven would be + at a loss for a topic of conversation—unless they decided, as they + probably would, that we had eloped together!” + </p> + <p> + She herself was quite above the petty meanness of envying another woman's + looks or clothes, and she beamed frank admiration over Molly's appearance + as she led the way into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Molly, you're too beautiful to be true,” she declared, pausing in the + hall to inspect the girl's young loveliness in its setting of shady hat + and embroidered muslin frock. Big golden poppies on the hat, and a girdle + at her waist of the same tawny hue, emphasized the rare colour of her eyes—in + shadow, brown like an autumn leaf, gold like amber when the sunlight lay + in them—and the whole effect was deliciously arresting. + </p> + <p> + “You've been spending your substance in riotous purple and fine linen,” + pursued Audrey relentlessly. “That frock was never evolved in Oldhampton, + I'm positive.” + </p> + <p> + Molly blushed—not the dull, unbecoming red most women achieve, but a + delicate pink like the inside of a shell that made her look even more + irresistibly distracting than before. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she admitted reluctantly, “I sent for this from town.” + </p> + <p> + Sara glanced at her with quick surprise. Entirely absorbed in her own + thoughts, she had failed to observe the expensive charm of Molly's + toilette and now regarded it attentively. Where had she obtained the money + to pay for it? Only a very little while ago she had been in debt, and now + here she was launching out into expenditure which common sense would + suggest must be quite beyond her means. + </p> + <p> + Sara frowned a little, but, recognizing the impossibility of probing into + the matter at the moment, she dismissed it from her mind, resolving to + elucidate the mystery later on. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, it was impossible to do other than acknowledge the results + obtained. Molly looked more like a stately young empress than an + impecunious doctor's daughter as she floated into the room, to be embraced + and complimented by the Lavender Lady and to receive a generous meed of + admiration, seasoned with a little gentle banter, from Miles Herrick. + </p> + <p> + Sara experienced a sensation of relief on discovering Miss Lavinia and + Herrick to be the only occupants of the room. Garth Trent had not yet + come. Despite her longing to see him again, she was conscious of a certain + diffidence, a reluctance at meeting him in the presence of others, and she + wished fervently that their first meeting after the events of the previous + day could have taken place anywhere rather than at this gay little lunch + party of Audrey's. + </p> + <p> + As it fell out, however, she chanced to be entirely alone in the room when + Trent was at length ushered in by a trim maidservant, the rest of the + party having gradually drifted out on to the verandah, while she had + lingered behind, glad of a moment's solitude in which to try and steady + herself. + </p> + <p> + She had never conceived it possible that so commonplace an emotion as mere + nervousness could find place beside the immensities of love itself, yet, + during the interminable moment when Garth crossed the room to her side, + she was supremely aware of an absurd desire to turn and flee, and it was + only by a sheer effort of will that she held her ground. + </p> + <p> + The next moment he had shaken hands with her and was making some tranquil + observation upon the lateness of his arrival. His manner was quite + detached, every vestige of anything beyond mere conventional politeness + banished from it. + </p> + <p> + The coolly neutral inflections of his voice struck upon Sara's keyed-up + consciousness as an indifferent finger may twang the stretched strings of + a violin, producing a shuddering violation of their harmony. + </p> + <p> + She hardly knew how she answered him. She only knew, with a sudden + overwhelming certainty, that the Garth who stood beside her now was a + different man, altered out of all kinship with the man who had held her in + his arms on Devil's Hood Island. The lover was gone; only the acquaintance + remained. + </p> + <p> + She stammered a few halting words by way of response, and—was she + mistaken, or did a sudden look of understanding, almost, it seemed, of + compunction, leap for a moment into his eyes, only to be replaced by the + brooding, bitter indifference habitual to them? + </p> + <p> + The opportune return of Audrey and her other guests, heralded by a gust of + cheerful laughter, tided over the difficult moment, and Garth turned away + to make his apologies to his hostess, blaming some slight mishap to his + car for the tardiness of his appearance. + </p> + <p> + Throughout lunch Sara conversed mechanically, responding like an automaton + when any one put a penny in the slot by asking her a question. She felt + utterly bewildered, stunned by Garth's behaviour. + </p> + <p> + Had their meeting been exchanged under the observant eyes of the rest of + the party, it would have been intelligible to her, for he was the last man + in the world to wear his heart upon his sleeve. But they had been quite + alone for the moment, and yet he had permitted no acknowledgment of the + new relations between them to appear either in word or look. He had + greeted her precisely as though they were no more to each other than the + merest acquaintances—as though the happenings of the previous day + had been wiped out of his mind. It was incomprehensible! + </p> + <p> + Sara felt almost as if some one had dealt her a physical blow, and it + required all her pluck and poise to enable her to take her share of the + general conversation before wending their several ways homeward. + </p> + <p> + “. . . And we'll picnic on Devil's Hood Island.” + </p> + <p> + Audrey's high, clear voice, as she chattered to Molly, characteristically + propounding half-a-dozen plans for the immediate future, floated across to + Sara where she stood waiting on the lowest step, impatient to be gone. As + though drawn by some invisible magnet, her eyes encountered Garth's, and + the swift colour rushed into her cheeks, staining them scarlet. + </p> + <p> + His expression was enigmatical. The next moment he bent forward and spoke, + in a low voice that reached her ear alone. + </p> + <p> + “Much maligned place—where I tasted my one little bit of heaven!” + Then, after a pause, he added deliberately: “But a black sheep has no + business with heaven. He'd be turned away from the doors—and quite + rightly, too! That's why I shall never ask for admittance.” He regarded + her steadily for a moment, then quietly averted his eyes. + </p> + <p> + And Sara realized that in those few words he had revoked—repudiating + all that he had claimed, all that he had given, the day before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <h3> + DISILLUSION + </h3> + <p> + “Letters are unsatisfactory things at the best of times, and what we all + want is to have you with us again for a little while. I am sure you must + have had a surfeit of the simple life by this time, so come to us and be + luxurious and exotic in London for a change. Don't disappoint us, Sara! + </p> + <p> + “Yours ever affectionately, + </p> + <p> + “ELISABETH.” + </p> + <p> + Sara, seated at the open window of her room, re-read the last paragraph of + the letter which the morning's post had brought her, and then let it fall + again on to her lap, whilst she stared with sombre eyes across the bay to + where the Monk's Cliff reared itself, stark and menacing, against the sky. + </p> + <p> + April had slipped into May, and the blue waters of the Channel flickered + with a myriad dancing points of light reflected from an unclouded sun. The + trees had clothed themselves anew in pale young green, and the whole + atmosphere was redolent of spring—spring as she reaches her maturity + before she steps aside to let the summer in. + </p> + <p> + Sara frowned a little. She was out of tune with the harmony of things. You + need happiness in your heart to be at one with the eager pulsing of new + life, the reaching out towards fulfillment that is the essential quality + of spring. Whereas Sara's heart was empty of happiness and hopes, and of + all the joyous beginnings that are the glorious appanage of youth. There + could be no beginnings for her, because she had already reached the end—reached + it with such a stupefying suddenness that for a time she had been hardly + conscious of pain, but only of a fierce, intolerable resentment and of a + pride—that “devil's own pride” which Patrick had told her was the + Tennant heritage—which had been wounded to the quick. + </p> + <p> + Garth had taken that pride of hers and ground it under his heel. He had + played at love, and she had been fool enough to mistake love's simulacrum + for the real thing. Or, if there had been any genuine spark of love + kindling the fire of passion that had blazed about her for one brief + moment, then he had since chosen deliberately to disavow it. + </p> + <p> + He had indicated his intention unmistakably. Since the day of the luncheon + party at Greenacres he had shunned meeting her whenever possible, and, on + the one or two occasions when an encounter had been unavoidable, his + manner had been frigidly indifferent and impersonal. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly she had repaid him in full measure—indifference for + indifference, ice for ice, gallantly matching her woman's pride against + his deliberate apathy, but inwardly she writhed at the remembrance of that + day on the island, when, in the stress of her terror for his safety, she + had let him see into the very heart of her. + </p> + <p> + Well, it was over now, and done with. The brief vision of love which had + given a new, transcendent significance to the whole of life, had faded + swiftly into bleak darkness, its memory marred by that bitterest of all + knowledge to a woman—the knowledge that she had been willing to give + her love, to make the great surrender, and that it had not been required + of her. All that remained was to draw a veil as decently as might be over + the forgettable humiliation. + </p> + <p> + The strain of the last fortnight had left its mark on her. The angles of + her face seemed to have become more sharply defined, and her eyes were too + brilliant and held a look of restlessness. But her lips closed as firmly + as ever, a courageous scarlet line, denying the power of fate to thrust + her under. + </p> + <p> + The Book of Garth—the book of love—was closed, but there were + many other volumes in life's library, and Sara did not propose to go + through the probable remaining fifty or sixty years of her existence + uselessly bewailing a dead past. She would face life, gamely, whatever it + might bring, and as she had already sustained one of the hardest blows + ever likely to befall her, she would probably make a success of it. + </p> + <p> + But, unquestionably, she would be glad to get away from Monkshaven for a + time, to have leisure to readjust her outlook on life, free from the + ceaseless reminders that the place held for her. + </p> + <p> + Here in Monkshaven, it seemed as though Garth's personality informed the + very air she breathed. The great cliff where he had his dwelling frowned + at her from across the bay whenever she looked out of her window, his name + was constantly on the lips of those who made up her little circle of + friends, and every day she was haunted by the fear of meeting him. Or, + worse than all else, should that fear materialize, the torment of the + almost hostile relationship which had replaced their former friendship had + to be endured. + </p> + <p> + The invitation to join the Durwards in London had come at an opportune + moment, offering, as it did, a way of escape from the embarrassments + inseparable from the situation. Moreover, amid the distractions and bustle + of the great city it would be easier to forget for a little her burden of + pain and humiliation. There is so much time for thinking—and for + remembering—in the leisurely tranquillity of country life. + </p> + <p> + Sara would have accepted the invitation without hesitation, but that there + seemed to her certain reasons why her absence from Sunnyside just now was + inadvisable—reasons based on her loyalty to Doctor Dick and the + trust he had reposed in her. + </p> + <p> + For the last few weeks she had been perplexed and not a little worried + concerning Molly's apparent accession to comparative wealth. Certain small + extravagances in which the latter had recently indulged must have been, + Sara knew, beyond the narrow limits of her purse, and inquiry had elicited + from Selwyn the fact that she had received no addition to her usual + allowance. + </p> + <p> + Molly herself had light-heartedly evaded all efforts to gain her + confidence, and Sara had refrained from putting any direct question, + since, after all, she was not the girl's guardian, and her interference + might very well be resented. + </p> + <p> + She was uneasily conscious that for some reason or other Molly was in a + state of tension, alternating between abnormally high spirits and the + depths of depression, and the recollection of that unpleasant little + episode of her indebtedness to Lester Kent lingered disagreeably in Sara's + mind. + </p> + <p> + She had seen the man once, in Oldhampton High Street—Molly, at that + time still clothed in penitence, had pointed him out to her—and she + had received an unpleasing impression of a lean, hatchet face with + deep-set, dense-brown eyes, and of a mouth like that of a bird of prey. + </p> + <p> + She felt reluctant to go away and leave things altogether to chance, and + finally, unable to come to any decision, she carried Elisabeth's letter + down to Selwyn's study and explained the position. + </p> + <p> + His face clouded over at the prospect of her departure. + </p> + <p> + “We shall miss you abominably,” he declared. “But of course”—ruefully—“I + can quite understand Mrs. Durward's wanting you to go back to them for a + time, and I suppose we must resign ourselves to being unselfish. Only you + must promise to come back again—you mustn't desert us altogether.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be afraid of that. I shall turn up again like the proverbial + bad penny.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, make it a promise,” he urged. + </p> + <p> + “I promise, then, you distrustful man! But about Molly?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you need worry about her.” Selwyn laughed a little. “The + sudden accession to wealth is accounted for. It seems that she has sold a + picture.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! So that's the explanation, is it?” Sara felt unaccountably relieved. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—though goodness knows how she has beguiled any one into buying + one of her daubs!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they're quite good, really, Doctor Dick. It's only that Futurist Art + doesn't appeal to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly! She showed me one of her paintings the other day. It looked + like a bad motor-bus accident in a crowded street, and she told me that it + represented the physical atmosphere of a woman who had just been jilted.” + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed suddenly and hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “How—how awfully funny!” she said in an odd, choked voice. Then, + fearful of losing her self-command, she added hastily: “I'll write and + tell Elisabeth that I'll come, then.” And fled out of the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <h3> + ELISABETH INTERVENES + </h3> + <p> + As Sara stepped out of the train at Paddington, the first person upon whom + her eyes alighted was Tim Durward. He hastened up to her. + </p> + <p> + “Tim!” she exclaimed delightedly. “How dear of you to come and meet me!” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you expect I should?” He was holding her hand and joyfully + pump-handling it up and down as though he would never let it go, while the + glad light in his eyes would indubitably have betrayed him to any + passer-by who had chanced to glance in his direction. + </p> + <p> + Sara coloured faintly and withdrew her hands from his eager clasp. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, you might conceivably have had something else to do,” she + returned evasively. + </p> + <p> + For an instant the blue eyes clouded. + </p> + <p> + “I never had anything to do,” he said shortly. “You know that.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed up at him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tim, I won't be growled at the first minute of my arrival. You can + pour out your grumbles another day. First now, I want to hear all the + news. Remember, I've been vegetating in the country since the beginning of + March!” + </p> + <p> + She drew him tactfully away from the old sore subject of his enforced + idleness, and, while the car bore them swiftly towards the Durwards' house + on Green Street, she entertained him with a description of the Selwyn + trio. + </p> + <p> + “I should think your 'Doctor Dick' considers himself damned lucky in + having got you there—seeing that his house seems all at sixes and + sevens,” commented Tim rather glumly. + </p> + <p> + “He does. Oh! I'm quite appreciated, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + Tim made no reply, but stared out of the window. The car rounded the + corner into Park Lane; in another moment they would reach their + destination. Suddenly he turned to her, his face rather strained-looking. + </p> + <p> + “And—the other man? Have you met him yet—at Monkshaven?” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking his meaning. Sara's eyes met his unflinchingly. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean has any one asked me to marry him—no, Tim. No one has + done me that honour,” she answered lightly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” he muttered below his breath. + </p> + <p> + Sara looked troubled. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you—got over that, yet?” she said, hesitatingly. “I—I + hoped you would, Tim.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never get over it,” he asserted doggedly. “And I shall never give + you up till you are another man's wife.” + </p> + <p> + The quiet intensity of his tones sounded strangely in her ears. This was a + new Tim, not the boyish Tim of former times, but a man with all a man's + steadfast purpose and determination. + </p> + <p> + She was spared the necessity of reply by the fact that they had reached + their journey's end. The car slid smoothly to a standstill, and almost + simultaneously the house-door opened, and behind the immaculate figure of + the Durwards' butler Sara descried the welcoming faces of Geoffrey and + Elisabeth. + </p> + <p> + It was good to see them both again—Geoffrey, big and debonair as + ever, his jolly blue eyes beaming at her delightedly, and Elisabeth, still + with that same elusive atmosphere of charm which always seemed to cling + about her like the fragrance of a flower. + </p> + <p> + They were eager to hear Sara's news, plying her with questions, so that + before the end of her first evening with them they had gleaned a fairly + accurate description of her life at Sunnyside and of the new circle of + friends she had acquired. + </p> + <p> + But there was one name she refrained from mentioning—that of Garth + Trent, and none of Elisabeth's quietly uttered comments or inquiries + sufficed to break through the guard of her reticence concerning the Hermit + of Far End. + </p> + <p> + “It sounds rather a manless Eden—except for the nice, lame Herrick + person,” said Elisabeth at last, and her hyacinth eyes, with their + curiously veiled expression, rested consideringly on Sara's face, alight + with interest as she had vividly sketched the picture of her life at + Monkshaven. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose it is rather,” she admitted. Her tone was carelessly + indifferent, but the eager light died suddenly out of her face, and + Elisabeth, smiling faintly, adroitly turned the conversation. + </p> + <p> + Sara speedily discovered that she would have even less time for the + fruitless occupation of remembering than she had anticipated. The Durwards + owned a host of friends in town with whom they were immensely popular, and + Sara found herself caught up in a perpetual whirl of entertainment that + left her but little leisure for brooding over the past. + </p> + <p> + She felt sometimes as though the London season had opened and swallowed + her up, as the whale swallowed Jonah, and when she declared herself + breathless with so much rushing about, Tim would coolly throw over any + engagement that chanced to have been made and carry her off for a day up + the river, where a quiet little lunch, in the tranquil shade of + overhanging trees, and the cosy, intimate talk that was its invariable + concomitant, seemed like an oasis of familiar, homely pleasantness in the + midst of the gay turmoil of London in May. + </p> + <p> + Tim had developed amazingly. He seemed instinctively to recognize her + moods, adapting himself accordingly, and in his thought and care for her + there was a half-playful, half-tender element of possessiveness that + sometimes brought a smile to her lips—and sometimes a sigh, as the + inevitable comparison asserted itself between Tim's gentle ruling and the + brusque, forceful mastery that had been Garth's. But, on the whole, the + visit to the Durwards was productive of more smiles than sighs, and Sara + found Tim's young, chivalrous devotion very soothing to the wound her + pride had suffered at Garth's hands. + </p> + <p> + She overflowed in gratitude to Elisabeth. + </p> + <p> + “You're giving me a perfectly lovely time,” she told her. “And Tim <i>is</i> + such a good playfellow!” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth's face seemed suddenly to glow with that inner radiance which + praise of her beloved Tim alone was able to inspire. + </p> + <p> + “Only that, Sara?” she said very quietly. Yet somehow Sara knew that she + meant to have an answer to her question. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why——” she stammered a little. “Isn't that enough?”—trying + to speak lightly. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Tim wants more than a playfellow. Can't you give him what he wants, + Sara?” + </p> + <p> + Sara was silent a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know he had told you,” she said, at last, rather lamely. + </p> + <p> + “Nor has he. Tim is loyal to the core. But a mother doesn't need telling + these things.” Elisabeth's beautiful voice deepened. “Tim is bone of my + bone and flesh of my flesh—and he's soul of my soul as well. Do you + think, then, that I shouldn't know when he is hurt?” + </p> + <p> + Sara was strangely moved. There was something impressive in the restrained + passion of Elisabeth's speech, a certain primitive grandeur in her + envisagement of the relationship of mother and son. + </p> + <p> + “I expect,” pursued Elisabeth calmly, “that you think I'm going too far—farther + than I have any right to. But it's any mother's right to fight for her + son's happiness, and I'm fighting for Tim's. Why won't you marry him, + Sara?” The question flashed out suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Because—why—oh, because I'm not in love with him.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of rather sardonic mirth showed in Elisabeth's face. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” she observed, “that we lived in the good old days when you could + have been carried off by sheer force and <i>compelled</i> to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + “I really believe you mean it!” she said with some amusement. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I do. I shouldn't have hesitated.” + </p> + <p> + “And what about me? You wouldn't have considered my feelings at all in the + matter, I suppose?” Sara was still smiling, yet she had a dim + consciousness that, preposterous as it sounded, Elisabeth would have had + no scruples whatever about putting such a plan into effect had it been in + any way feasible. + </p> + <p> + “No.” Elisabeth replied with the utmost composure. “Tim comes first. But”—and + suddenly her voice melted to an indescribable sweetness—“You would + be almost one with him in my heart, because you had brought him + happiness.” She paused, then launched her question with a delicate + hesitancy that skillfully concealed all semblance of the probe. “Tell me—is + there any one else who has asked of you what Tim asks? Perhaps I have come + too late with my plea?” + </p> + <p> + Sara shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said flatly, “there is no one else.” With a sudden bitter + self-mockery she added: “Tim's is the only proposal of marriage I have to + my credit.” + </p> + <p> + The repressed anxiety with which Elisabeth had been regarding her relaxed, + and a curious look of content took birth in the hyacinth eyes. It was as + though the bitterness of Sara's answer in some way reassured her, serving + her purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Then can't you give Tim what he wants? You will be robbing no one. Sara”—her + low voice vibrated with the urgency of her desire—“promise me at + least that you will think it over—that you will not dismiss the idea + as though it were impossible?” + </p> + <p> + Sara half rose; her eyes, wide and questioning, were fixed upon + Elisabeth's. + </p> + <p> + “But why—why do you ask me this?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Because I think”—very softly—“that Tim himself will ask you + the same thing before very long. And I can't face what it will mean to him + if you send him away. . . . You would be happy with him, Sara. No woman + could live with Tim and not grow to love him—certainly no woman whom + Tim loved.” + </p> + <p> + The depth of her conviction imbued her words with a strange force of + suggestion. For the first time the idea of marriage with Tim presented + itself to Sara as a remotely conceivable happening. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto she had looked upon his love for her as something which only + touched the outer fringe of her life—a temporary disturbance of the + good-comradely relations that had existed between them. With the easy + optimism of a woman whose heart has always been her own exclusive property + she had hoped he would “get over it.” + </p> + <p> + But now Elisabeth's appeal, and the knowledge of the pain of love, which + love itself had taught her, quickened her mind to a new understanding. + Perhaps Elisabeth felt her yield to the impression she had been + endeavoring to create, for she rose and came and stood quite close to her, + looking down at her with shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Give my son his happiness!” she said. And the eternal supplication of all + motherhood was in her voice. + </p> + <p> + Sara made no answer. She sat very still, with bent head. Presently there + came the sound of light footsteps as Elisabeth crossed the room, and, a + moment later, the door closed softly behind her. + </p> + <p> + She had thrust a new responsibility on Sara's shoulders—the + responsibility of Tim's happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Give my son his happiness!” The poignant appeal of the words rang in + Sara's ears. + </p> + <p> + After all, why not? As Elisabeth had said, she would be robbing no one by + so doing. The man for whom had been reserved the place in the sacred inner + temple of her heart had signified very clearly that he had no intention of + claiming it. + </p> + <p> + No other would ever enter in his stead; the doors of that innermost + sanctuary would be kept closed, shutting in only the dead ashes of + remembrance. But if entrance to the outer courts of the temple meant so + much to Tim, why should she not make him free of them? That other had come + and gone again, having no need of her, while Tim's need was great. + </p> + <p> + Life, at the moment stretched in front of her very vague and purposeless, + and she knew that by marrying Tim she would make three people whom she + loved, and who mattered most to her in the whole world—Tim, and + Elisabeth, and Geoffrey—supremely happy. No one need suffer except + herself—and for her there was no escape from suffering either way. + </p> + <p> + So it came about that when, as her visit drew towards its close, Tim came + to her and asked her once again to be his wife, she gave him an answer + which by no stretch of the imagination could she have conceived as + possible a short three weeks before. + </p> + <p> + She was very frank with him. She was determined that if he married her, it + must be open-eyed, recognizing that she could only give him honest liking + in return for love. Upon a foundation of sincerity some mutual happiness + might ultimately be established, but there should be no submerged rock of + ignorance and misunderstanding on which their frail barque of matrimonial + happiness might later founder in a sea of infinite regret. + </p> + <p> + “Are you willing to take me—like that?” she asked him. “Knowing that + I can only give you friendship? I wish—I wish I could give you what + you ask—but I can't.” + </p> + <p> + Tim's eyes searched hers for a long moment. + </p> + <p> + “Is there some one else?” he asked at last. + </p> + <p> + A wave of painful colour flooded her face, then ebbed away, leaving it + curiously white and pinched-looking, but her eyes still met his bravely. + </p> + <p> + “There is—no one who will ever want your place, Tim,” she said with + an effort. + </p> + <p> + The sight of her evident distress hurt him intolerably. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me!” he exclaimed quickly. “I had no right to ask that question.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you had,” she replied steadily, “since you have asked me to be your + wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've answered it—and it doesn't make a bit of difference. I + want you. I'll take what you can give me, Sara. Perhaps, some day, you'll + be able to give me love as well.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Don't count on that, Tim. Friendship, understanding, the comradeship + which, after all, can mean a good deal between a man and woman—all + these I can give you. And if you think those things are worth while, I'll + marry you. But—I'm not in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be—I'm sure it's catching,” he declared with the gay, + buoyant confidence which was one of his most endearing qualities. + </p> + <p> + Sara smiled a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it were,” she said. “But please be serious, Tim dear—” + </p> + <p> + “How can I be?” he interrupted joyfully. “When the woman I love tells me + that she'll marry me, do you suppose I'm going to pull a long face about + it?” + </p> + <p> + He caught her in his arms and kissed her with all the impetuous fervour of + his two-and-twenty years. At the touch of his warm young lips, her own + lips whitened. For an instant, as she rested in his arms, she was stabbed + through and through by the memory of those other arms that had held her as + in a vice of steel, and of stormy, passionate kisses in comparison with + Tim's impulsive caress, half-shy, half-reverent, seemed like clear water + beside the glowing fire of red wine. + </p> + <p> + She drew herself sharply out of his embrace. Would she never forget—would + she be for ever remembering, comparing? If so, God help her! + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said quietly. “You needn't pull a long face over it. But—but + marriage is a serious thing, Tim, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear”—he spoke with a sudden gentle gravity—“don't + misunderstand me. Marriage with you is the most serious and wonderful and + glorious thing that could ever happen to a man. When you're my wife, I + shall be thanking God on my knees every day of my life. All the jokes and + nonsense are only so many little waves of happiness breaking on the shore. + But behind them there is always the big sea of my love for you—the + still waters, Sara.” + </p> + <p> + Sara remained silent. The realization of the tender, chivalrous, + worshiping love this boy was pouring out at her feet made her feel very + humble—very ashamed and sorry that she could give so little in + return. + </p> + <p> + Presently she turned and held out her hands to him. + </p> + <p> + “Tim—my Tim,” she said, and her voice shook a little. “I'll try not + to disappoint you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <h3> + THE NAME OF DURWARD + </h3> + <p> + The Durwards received the news of their son's engagement to Sara with + unfeigned delight. Geoffrey was bluffly gratified at the materialization + of his private hopes, and Elisabeth had never appeared more captivating + than during the few days that immediately followed. She went about as + softly radiant and content as a pleased child, and even the strange, + watchful reticence that dwelt habitually in her eyes was temporarily + submerged by the shining happiness that welled up within them. + </p> + <p> + She urged that an early date should be fixed for the wedding, and Sara, + with a dreary feeling that nothing really mattered very much, listlessly + acquiesced. Driven by conflicting influences she had burned her boats, and + the sooner all signs of the conflagration were obliterated the better. + </p> + <p> + But she opposed a quiet negative to the further suggestion that she should + accompany the Durwards to Barrow Court instead of returning to Monkshaven. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't do that,” she said with decision. “I promised Doctor Dick I + would go back.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth smiled airily. Apparently she had no scruples about the keeping + of promises. + </p> + <p> + “That's easily arranged,” she affirmed. “I'll write to your precious + doctor man and tell him that we can't spare you.” + </p> + <p> + As far as personal inclination was concerned, Sara would gladly have + adopted Elisabeth's suggestion. She shrank inexpressibly from returning to + Monkshaven, shrouded, as it was, in brief but poignant memories, but she + had given Selwyn her word that she would go back, and, even in a + comparatively unimportant matter such as this appeared, she had a + predilection in favour of abiding by a promise. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth demurred. + </p> + <p> + “You're putting Dr. Selwyn before us,” she declared, candidly amazed. + </p> + <p> + “I promised him first,” replied Sara. “In my position, you'd do the same.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't,” she replied with energy. “The people I love come first—all + the rest nowhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'm glad I'm one of the people you love,” retorted Sara, laughing. + “And, let me tell you, I think you're a most unmoral person.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth looked at her reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I am,” she acknowledged. “At least, from a conventional point of + view. Certainly I shouldn't let any so-called moral scruples spoil the + happiness of any one I cared about. However, I suppose you would, and so + we're all to be offered up on the altar of this twopenny-halfpenny promise + you've made to Dr. Selwyn?” + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you are,” she said. + </p> + <p> + If anything could have reconciled her to the sacrifice of inclination she + had made in returning to Monkshaven, it would have been the warmth of the + welcome extended to her on her arrival. Selwyn and Molly met her at the + station, and Jane Crab, resplendent in a new cap and apron donned for the + occasion, was at the gate when at last the pony brought the governess-cart + to a standstill outside. Even Mrs. Selwyn had exerted herself to come + downstairs, and was waiting in the hall to greet the wanderer back. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a great comfort to have you back, my dear,” she said with + unwonted feeling in her voice, and quite suddenly Sara felt abundantly + rewarded for the many weary hours upstairs, trying to win Mrs. Selwyn's + interest to anything exterior to herself. + </p> + <p> + “You're looking thinner,” was Selwyn's blunt comment, as Sara threw off + her hat and coat. “What have you been doing with yourself?” + </p> + <p> + She flushed a little. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, racketing about, I suppose. I've been living in a perfect whirl. + Never mind, Doctor Dick, you shall fatten me up now with your good country + food and your good country air. Good gracious!”—as he closed a big + thumb and finger around her slender wrist and shook his head disparagingly—“Don't + look so solemn! I was always one of the lean kine, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that London has agreed with you,” rumbled Selwyn + discontentedly. “Your pulse is as jerky as a primitive cinema film. You'd + better not be in such a hurry to run away from us again. Besides, we can't + do without you, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + With a mental jolt Sara recollected the fact of her approaching marriage. + How on earth should she break it to these good friends of hers, who + counted so much on her remaining with them, that within three months—the + longest period Elisabeth would consent to wait—she would be leaving + them permanently? It was manifestly impossible to pour such a douche of + cold water into the midst of the joyful warmth of their welcome; and she + decided to wait, at least until the next day, before acquainting them with + the fact of her engagement. + </p> + <p> + When morning came, the same arguments held good in favour of a further + postponement, and, as the days slipped by, it became increasingly + difficult to introduce the subject. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, amid the change of environment and influence, Sara experienced a + certain almost inevitable reaction of feeling. It was not that she + actually regretted her engagement, but none the less she found herself + supersensitively conscious of it, and she chafed against the thought of + the congratulations and all the kindly, well-meant “fussation” which its + announcement would entail. + </p> + <p> + She told herself irritably that this was only because she had not yet had + time to get used to the idea of regarding herself as Tim's future wife; + that, later on, when she had grown more accustomed to it, the prospect of + her friends' felicitations would appear less repugnant. She had to face + the ultimate fact that marriage, for her, did not mean the crowning + fulfillment of life; marriage with Tim would never be anything more than a + substitute, a next best thing. + </p> + <p> + With these thoughts in her mind, she finally decided to say nothing about + her engagement for the present, but to pick up the threads of life at + Sunnyside as though that crowded month in London, with its unexpected + culmination, had never been. + </p> + <p> + Once taken, the decision afforded her a curious sense of respite and + relief. It was very pleasant to drop back into the old habits of managing + the Sunnyside <i>ménage</i>—making herself indispensable to Selwyn, + humouring his wife, and keeping a watchful eye on Molly. + </p> + <p> + The latter, Sara found, was by far the most difficult part of her task, + and the vague apprehensions she had formed, and to some extent shared with + Selwyn before her visit to London, increased. + </p> + <p> + From an essentially lovable, inconsequent creature, with a temper of an + angel and the frankness of a child, Molly had become oddly nervous and + irritable, flushing and paling suddenly for no apparent cause, and + guardedly uncommunicative as to her comings and goings. She was oddly + resentful of any manifestation of interest in her affairs, and snubbed + Sara roundly when the latter ventured an injudicious inquiry as to whether + Lester Kent were still in the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + “How on earth should I know?” The golden-brown eyes met Sara's with a look + of nervous defiance. “I'm not his keeper.” Then, as though slightly + ashamed of her outburst, she added more amiably: “I haven't been down to + the Club for weeks. It's been so hot—and I suppose I've been lazy. + But I'm going to-morrow. I shall be able to gratify your curiosity + concerning Lester Kent when I come home.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” Sara looks surprised. “But we promised to go to tea with + Audrey to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Molly flushed and looked away. + </p> + <p> + “Did we?” she said vaguely. “I'd forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you arrange to go to Oldhampton the next day instead?” continued + Sara. + </p> + <p> + Molly frowned a little. At last— + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what I'll do,” she said agreeably. “I'll come back by the + afternoon train and meet you at Greenacres.” And with this concession Sara + had to be content. + </p> + <p> + Tea at Greenacres resolved itself into a kind of rarefied picnic, and, as + Sara crossed the cool green lawns in the wake of a smart parlourmaid, she + found that quite a considerable number of Audrey's friends—and + enemies—were gathered together under the shade of the trees, + partaking of tea and strawberries and cream. The <i>elite</i> of the + neighbourhood might find many disagreeable things to say concerning Mrs. + Maynard, but they were not in the least averse to accepting her + hospitality whenever the opportunity presented itself. + </p> + <p> + Sara's heart leapt suddenly as she descried Trent's lean, well-knit figure + amongst those dotted about on the lawn. She had tried very hard to + accustom herself to meet him with composure, but at each encounter, + although outwardly quite cool, her pulses raced, and to-day, the first + time she had seen him since her return from London, she felt as though all + her nerves were outside her skin instead of underneath it. + </p> + <p> + He was talking to Miles Herrick. The latter, lying back luxuriously in a + deck-chair, proceeded to wave and beckon an enthusiastic greeting as soon + as he caught sight of Sara, and rather reluctantly she responded to his + signals and made her way towards the two men. + </p> + <p> + “I feel like a bloated sultan summoning one of the ladies of the harem to + his presence,” confessed Miles apologetically when he had shaken hands. + “I've added a sprained ankle to my other disabilities,” he continued + cheerfully. “Hence my apparent laziness.” + </p> + <p> + Sara commiserated appropriately. + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage to get here?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Miles gestured towards Trent. + </p> + <p> + “This man maintained that it was bad for my mental and moral health to + brood alone at home while Lavinia went skipping off into society + unchaperoned. So he fetched me along in his car.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes rested thoughtfully on Trent's face a moment. + </p> + <p> + It was odd how kindly and considerate he always showed himself towards + Miles Herrick. Perhaps somewhere within him a responsive chord was touched + by the evidence of the other man's broken life. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Tennant is thinking that it's a case of the blind leading the blind + for me to act as a cicerone into society,” remarked Trent curtly. + </p> + <p> + Sara winced at the repellent hardness of his tone, but she declined to + take up the challenge. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad you persuaded Miles to come over,” was all she said. + </p> + <p> + Trent's lips closed in a straight line. It seemed as though he were trying + to resist the appeal of her gently given answer; and Miles, conscious of + the antagonism in the atmosphere, interposed with some commonplace + question concerning her visit to London. + </p> + <p> + “You're looking thinner than you were, Sara,” he added critically. + </p> + <p> + She flushed a little as she felt Trent's hawk-like glance sweep over her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've been leading too gay a life,” she said hastily. “The Durwards + seem to know half London, so that we crowded about a dozen engagements + into each day—and a few more into the night.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Durward</i>?” The word sprang violently from Trent's lips, almost as + though jerked out of him, and Sara, glancing towards him in some + astonishment, surprised a strange, suddenly vigilant expression in his + face. It was immediately succeeded by a blank look of indifference, yet + beneath the assumption of indifference his eyes seemed to burn with a kind + of slumbering hostility. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—the people I have been staying with,” she explained. “Do you + know them, by any chance?” + </p> + <p> + “I really can't say,” he replied carelessly. “Durward is not a very + uncommon name, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Their name was originally Lovell—they only acquired the Durward + with some property. Mrs. Durward is an extraordinarily beautiful woman. I + believe in her younger days she had half London in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + Sara hardly knew why she felt impelled to supply so many particulars + concerning the Durwards. After that first brief exclamation, Trent seemed + to have lost interest, and appeared to be rather bored by the recital than + otherwise. He made no comment when she had finished. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't know them?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “I?” He started slightly, as though recalled to the present by her + question. “No. I haven't the pleasure to be numbered amongst Mrs. + Durward's friends,” he said quietly. “I have seen her, however.” + </p> + <p> + “She is very beautiful, don't you think?” persisted Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Very,” he replied indifferently. And then, quite deliberately, he + directed the conversation into another channel, leaving Sara feeling + exactly as though a door had been slammed in her face. + </p> + <p> + It was his old method of putting an end to a discussion that failed to + please him—this arrogantly abrupt transition to another subject—and, + though it served its immediate purpose, it was a method that had its + weaknesses. If you deliberately hide behind a hedge, any one who catches + you in the act naturally wonders why you are doing it. + </p> + <p> + Even Miles looked a trifle astonished at Trent's curt dismissal of the + Durward topic, and Sara, who had observed the strange expression that + leaped into his eyes—half-guarded, half inimical—felt + convinced that he knew more about the Durwards than he had chosen to + acknowledge. + </p> + <p> + She could not imagine in what way they were connected with his life, nor + why he should have been so averse to admitting his knowledge of them. But + there were many inexplicable circumstances associated with the man who had + chosen to live more or less the life of a recluse at Far End; and Sara, + and the little circle of intimates who had at last succeeded in drawing + him into their midst, had accustomed themselves to the atmosphere of + secrecy that seemed to envelope him. + </p> + <p> + From his obvious desire to eschew the society of his fellow men and women, + and from the acid cynicism of his outlook on things in general, it had + been gradually assumed amongst them that some happenings in the past had + marred his life, poisoning the springs of faith, and hope, and charity at + their very fount, and with the tact of real friendship they never sought + to discover what he so evidently wished concealed. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Molly to-day?” Miles's pleasant voice broke across the awkward + moment, giving yet a fresh trend to the conversation that was languishing + uncomfortably. + </p> + <p> + Sara's gaze ranged searchingly over the little groups of people sprinkled + about the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she here yet?” she asked, startled. “She was coming back from + Oldhampton by the afternoon train, and promised to meet me here.” + </p> + <p> + Miles looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “The attractions of Oldhampton have evidently proved too strong for her,” + he said a little drily. “If she had come by the afternoon train, she would + have been here an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + Sara looked troubled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but she <i>must</i> be here—somewhere,” she insisted rather + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I see if I can find her for you?” suggested Trent stiffly. + </p> + <p> + Sara, sensing his wish to be gone and genuinely disturbed at Molly's + non-appearance, acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + “I should be very glad if you would,” she answered. Then turning to Miles, + she went on: “I can't think where she can be. Somehow, Molly has become + rather—difficult, lately.” + </p> + <p> + Herrick smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Don't look so distressed. It is only a little ebullition of <i>la + jeunesse</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Sara turned to him swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you've noticed it, too—that she is different?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Lookers-on see most of the game, you know. And I'm essentially a + looker-on.” He bit back a quick sigh, and went on hastily: “But I don't + think you need worry about our Molly's vagaries. She's too sound <i>au + fond</i> to get into real mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn't mean to,” conceded Sara. “But she is——” She + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Youthfully irresponsible,” suggested Miles. “Let it go at that.” + </p> + <p> + Sara looked at him affectionately, reflecting that Trent's black cynicism + made a striking foil to the serene and constant charity of Herrick's + outlook. + </p> + <p> + “You always look for the best in people, Miles,” she said appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “I have to. Don't you see, people are my whole world. I'm cut off from + everything else. If I didn't look for the best in them, I should want to + kill myself. And I'm pretty lucky,” he added, smiling humorously. “I + generally find what I'm looking for.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Trent returned with the news that Molly was nowhere to be + found. It was evident she had not come to Greenacres at all. + </p> + <p> + Sara rose, feeling oddly apprehensive. + </p> + <p> + “Then I think I shall go home and see if she has arrived there yet,” she + said. She smiled down at Miles. “Even irresponsibility needs checking—if + carried too far.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <h3> + THE FLIGHT + </h3> + <p> + The first person Sara encountered on her return to Sunnyside was Jane + Crab, unmistakably bursting to impart some news. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor's going away, miss,” she announced, flinging her bombshell + without preliminary. + </p> + <p> + “Going away?” Sara's surprise was entirely gratifying, and Jane continued + volubly— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss. A telegram came for him early in the afternoon, while he was + out on his rounds, asking him to go to a friend who is lying at death's + door, as you may say. And please, miss, Dr. Selwyn said he would be glad + to see you as soon as you came in.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I'll go to him at once. Where is Miss Molly? Has she come back + yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Come and gone again, miss. The doctor asked her to send off a wire for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” Sara nodded somewhat abstractly. She was still wondering + confusedly why Molly had failed to put in any appearance at Greenacres. + “What time did she come in?” + </p> + <p> + “About a quarter of an hour ago, miss. She missed the early train back + from Oldhampton.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's instant feeling of relief was tempered by a mild element of + self-reproach. She had been agitating herself about nothing—allowing + her uneasiness about Molly to become a perfect obsession, leading her into + the wildest imaginings. Here had she been disquieting herself the entire + afternoon because Molly had not turned up as arranged, and after all, the + simple, commonplace explanation of the matter was that she had missed her + train! + </p> + <p> + Smiling over the groundlessness of her fears, Sara hastened away to + Selwyn's study, and found him, seated at his desk, scribbling some hurried + motes concerning various cases among his patients for the enlightenment of + the medical man who was taking charge of the practice during his absence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there you are, Sara!” he exclaimed, laying down his pen as she + entered. “I'm glad you have come back before I go. I'm off in + half-an-hour. Did Jane tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm very sorry your friend is so ill.” + </p> + <p> + Selwyn's face clouded over. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to see him again,” he answered simply. “We haven't met for some + years—not since my wife's health brought me to Monkshaven—but + we were good pals at one time, he and I. Luckily, I've been able to + arrange with Dr. Mitchell to include my patients in his round, and if + you'll take charge of everything here at home, Sara, I shall have nothing + to worry about while I'm away.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will. It's very nice of you to entrust your family to my care + so confidently.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite confidently,” he replied. “I'm not afraid of anything going wrong + if you're at the helm.” + </p> + <p> + “How long do you expect to be away?” asked Sara presently. + </p> + <p> + “A couple of days at the outside. I hope to get back the day after + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Denuded of Selwyn's big, kindly presence, the house seemed curiously + silent. Even Jane Crab appeared to feel the effect of his absence, and + strove less forcefully with her pots and pans—which undoubtedly made + for an increase of peace and quiet—while Molly was frankly + depressed, stealing restlessly in and out of the rooms like some haunting + shadow. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth's the matter with you?” Sara asked her laughingly. “Hasn't + your father ever been away from home before? You're wandering about like + an uneasy spirit!” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> an uneasy spirit,” responded Molly bluntly. “I feel as though + I'd a cold coming on, and I always like Dad to doctor me when I'm ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I can doctor a cold,” affirmed Sara briskly. “Put your feet in hot water + and mustard to-night and stay in bed to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Molly considered the proposed remedies in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I <i>will</i> stay in bed to-morrow,” she said, at last, + reluctantly. “Should you mind? We were going down to see the Lavender + Lady, you remember.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go alone. Anyway”—smiling—“if you're safely tucked up in + bed, I shall know you're not getting into any mischief while Doctor Dick's + away! But very likely the hot water and mustard will put you all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it will,” agreed Molly hopefully. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, however, found her in bed, snuffling and complaining of + headache, and pathetically resigned to the idea of spending the day + between the sheets. Obviously she was in no fit state to inflict her + company on other people, so, in the afternoon, after settling her + comfortably with a new novel and a box of cigarettes at her bedside, Sara + took her solitary way to Rose Cottage. + </p> + <p> + There she found Garth Trent, sitting beside Herrick's couch and deep in an + enthusiastic discussion of amateur photography. But, immediately on her + entrance, the eager, interested expression died out of his face, and very + shortly after tea he made his farewells, nor could any soft blandishments + on the part of the Lavender Lady prevail upon him to remain longer. + </p> + <p> + Sara felt hurt and resentful. Since the day of the expedition to Devil's + Hood Island, Trent had punctiliously avoided being in her company whenever + circumstances would permit him to do so, and she was perfectly aware that + it was her presence at Rose Cottage which was responsible for his early + departure this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + A gleam of anger flickered in the black depths of her eyes as he shook + hands. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I've driven you away,” she flashed at him beneath her breath, + with a bitterness akin to his own. He made no answer, merely releasing her + hand rather quickly, as though something in her words had flicked him on + the raw. + </p> + <p> + “What a pity Mr. Trent had to leave so soon,” remarked Miss Lavinia, with + innocent regret, when he had gone. “I'm afraid we shall never persuade him + to be really sociable, poor dear man! He seems a little moody to-day, + don't you think?”—hesitating delicately. + </p> + <p> + “He's a bore!” burst out Sara succinctly. + </p> + <p> + Miles shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't think that,” he said. “But he's a very sick man. In my + opinion, Trent's had his soul badly mauled at some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + “He needn't advertise the fact, then,” retorted Sara, unappeased. “We all + get our share of ill-luck. Garth behaves as if he had the monopoly.” + </p> + <p> + “There are some scars which can't be hidden,” replied Miles quietly. + </p> + <p> + Sara smiled a little. There was never any evading Herrick's broad + tolerance of human nature. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly an hour later when at last she took her way homewards, + carrying in her heart, in spite of herself, something of the gentle + serenity that seemed to be a part of the very atmosphere at Rose Cottage. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the calm and fragrance of a June evening awaited her. Little, + delicate, sweet-smelling airs floated over the tops of the hedges from the + fields beyond, and now and then a few stray notes of a blackbird's song + stole out from a plantation near at hand, breaking off suddenly and dying + down into drowsy, contented little cluckings and twitterings. + </p> + <p> + Across the bay the sun was dipping towards the horizon, flinging along the + face of the waters great shafts of lambent gold and orange, that split + into a thousand particles of shimmering light as the ripples caught them + up and played with them, and finally tossed them back again to the sun + from the shining curve of a wave's sleek side. + </p> + <p> + It was all very tranquil and pleasant, and Sara strolled leisurely along, + soothed into a half-waking dream by the peaceful influences of the moment. + Even the manifold perplexities and tangles of life seemed to recede and + diminish in importance at the touch of old Mother Nature's comforting + hand. After all, there was much, very much, that was beautiful and + pleasant still left to enjoy. + </p> + <p> + It is generally at moments like these, when we are sinking into a placid + quiescence of endurance, that Fate sees fit to prod us into a more active + frame of mind. + </p> + <p> + In this particular instance destiny manifested itself in the unassuming + form of Black Brady, who slid suddenly down from the roadside hedge, amid + a crackling of branches and rattle of rubble, and appeared in front of + Sara's astonished eyes just as she was nearing home. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, miss”—Brady tugged at a forelock of curly black hair—“I + was just on me way to your place.” + </p> + <p> + “To Sunnyside? Why, is Mrs. Brady ill again?” asked Sara kindly. + </p> + <p> + “No, miss, thank you, she's doing nicely.” He paused a moment as though at + a loss how to continue. Then he burst out: “It's about Miss Molly—the + doctor bein' away and all.” + </p> + <p> + “About Miss Molly?” Sara felt a sudden clutch at her heart. “What do you + mean? Quick, Brady, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, miss, I've just seed 'er go off 'long o' Mr. Kent in his big + motor-car. They took the London road, and”—here Brady shuffled his + feet with much embarrassment—“seein' as Mr. Kent's a married man, + I'll be bound he's up to no good wi' Miss Molly.” + </p> + <p> + Sara could have stamped with vexation. The little fool—oh! The utter + little <i>fool</i>—to go off joy-riding in an evening like that! A + break-down of any kind, with a consequent delay in returning, and all + Monkshaven would be buzzing with the tale! + </p> + <p> + For the moment, however, there was nothing to be done except to put Black + Brady in his place and pray for Molly's speedy return. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Brady,” she said coldly, “I imagine Mr. Kent's a good enough driver + to bring Miss Selwyn back safely. I don't think there's anything to worry + about.” + </p> + <p> + Brady stared at her out of his sullen eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't understood, miss,” he said doggedly. “Mr. Kent isn't for + bringing Miss Molly back again. They'd their luggage along wi' 'em in the + car, and Mr. Kent, he stopped at the 'Cliff' to have the tank filled up + and took a matter of another half-dozen cans o' petrol with 'im.” + </p> + <p> + In an instant the whole dreadful significance of the thing leaped into + Sara's mind. Molly had bolted—run away with Lester Kent! + </p> + <p> + It was easy enough now, in the flashlight kindled by Brady's slow, + inexorable summing up of detail, to see the drift of recent happenings, + the meaning of each small, disconcerting fact that added a fresh link to + the chain of probability. + </p> + <p> + Molly's unwonted secretiveness; her strange, uncertain moods; her + embarrassment at finding she was expected at Greenacres when she had + presumably agreed to meet Lester Kent in Oldhampton; and, last of all, the + sudden “cold” which had developed coincidentally with her father's absence + from home and which had secured her freedom from any kind of supervision + for the afternoon. And the opportunity of clinching arrangements—probably + already planned and dependent only on a convenient moment—had been + provided by her errand to the post office to send off her father's + telegram—it being as easy to send two telegrams as one. + </p> + <p> + The colour ebbed slowly from Sara's face as full realization dawned upon + her, and she swayed a little where she stood. With rough kindliness Brady + stretched out a grimy hand and steadied her. + </p> + <p> + “'Ere, don't' take on, miss. They won't get very far. I didn't, so to + speak, <i>fill</i> the petrol tank”—with a grin—“and there + ain't more than two o' they cans I slipped aboard the car as 'olds more'n + air. The rest was empties”—the grin widened enjoyably—“which I + shoved in well to the back. Mr. Kent won't travel eighty miles afore 'e + calls a 'alt, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + Sara looked at Brady's cunning, kindly face almost with affection. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do that?” she asked swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “I've owed Mr. Lester Kent summat these three years,” he answered + complacently. “And I never forgets to pay back. I owed you summat, too, + Miss Tennant. I haven't forgot how you spoke up for me when I was catched + poachin'.” + </p> + <p> + Sara held out her hand to him impulsively, and Brady sheepishly extended + his own grubby paw to meet it. + </p> + <p> + “You've more than paid me back, Brady,” she said warmly. “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Turning away, she hurried up the road, leaving Brady staring alternately + at his right hand and at her receding figure. + </p> + <p> + “She's rare gentry, is Miss Tennant,” he remarked with conviction, and + then slouched off to drink himself blind at “The Jolly Sailorman.” Black + Brady was, after all, only an inexplicable bundle of good and bad impulses—very + much like his betters. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the house, Sara fled breathlessly upstairs to Molly's room. + Jane Crab was standing in the middle of it, staring dazedly at all the + evidences of a hasty departure which surrounded her—an overturned + chair here, an empty hat-box there, drawers pulled out, and clothes tossed + heedlessly about in every direction. In her hand she held a chemist's + parcel, neatly sealed and labeled; she was twisting it round and round in + her trembling, gnarled old fingers. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of Sara's entrance, she turned with an exclamation of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Sara! I'm main glad you've come! Whatever's happened? Miss Molly + was here in bed not three parts of an hour ago!” Then, her boot-button + eyes still roving round the room, she made a sudden dart towards the + dressing-table. “Here, miss, 'tis a note she's left for you!” she + exclaimed, snatching it up and thrusting it into Sara's hands. + </p> + <p> + Written in Molly's big, sprawling, childish hand, the note was a pathetic + mixture of confession and apology— + </p> + <p> + “I feel a perfect pig, Sara mine, leaving you behind to face Father, but + it was my only chance of getting away, as I know Dad would have refused to + let me marry for years and years. He never <i>will</i> realize that I'm + grown-up. And Lester and I couldn't wait all that time. + </p> + <p> + “I felt an awful fraud last night, letting you fuss over my supposed + 'cold,' you dear thing. Do forgive me. And you must come and stay with us + the minute we get back from our honeymoon. We are to be married to-morrow + morning. “—MOLLY. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—Don't worry—it's all quite proper and respectable. I'm + to go straight to the house of one of Lester's sisters in London. + </p> + <p> + “P.P.S.—I'm frantically happy.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes were wet when she finished the perusal of the hastily + scribbled letter. “We are to be married to-morrow morning!” The blind, + pathetic confidence of it! And if Black Brady had spoken the truth, if + Lester Kent were already a married man, to-morrow morning would convert + the trusting, wayward baby of a woman, with her adorable inconsistencies + and her big, generous heart, into something Sara dared not contemplate. + The thought of the look in those brown-gold eyes, when Molly should know + the truth, brought a lump into her throat. + </p> + <p> + She turned to Jane Crab. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Jane,” she said tersely. “Miss Molly's run away with Mr. + Lester Kent. She thinks he's going to marry her. But he can't—he's + married already——” + </p> + <p> + “Sakes alive!” Just that one brief exclamation, and then suddenly Jane's + lower lip began to work convulsively, and two tears squeezed themselves + out of her little eyes, and her whole face puckered up like a baby's. + </p> + <p> + Sara caught her by the arm and shook her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry!” she said vehemently. “You haven't time! We've got to save her—we've + got to get her back before any one knows. Do you understand? Stop crying + at once!” + </p> + <p> + Jane reacted promptly to the fierce imperative, and sniffingly choked back + her tears. Suddenly her eyes fell on the little package from the chemist + which she still held clutched in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “The artfulness of her!” she ejaculated indignantly. “Asking me to go + along to the chemist's and bring her back some aspirin for her headache! + And me, like a fool, suspecting nothing, off I goes! There's the stuff!”—viciously + flinging the chemist's parcel on to the floor. “Eh! Miss Molly'll have + more than a headache to face, I'm thinking!” + </p> + <p> + “But she <i>mustn't</i>, Jane! We've got to get her back, somehow.” + </p> + <p> + Though Sara spoke with such assured conviction, she was inwardly racked + with anxiety. What <i>could</i> they do—two forlorn women? And to + whom could they turn for help? Miles? He was lame. He was no abler to help + than they themselves. And Selwyn was away, out of reach! + </p> + <p> + “We must get her back,” she repeated doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “And how, may I ask, Miss Sara?” inquired Jane bitterly. “Be you goin' to + run after the motor-car, mayhap?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Sara was silent. The sarcastic query had set the spark to the + tinder, and now she was thinking rapidly, some semblance of a plan + emerging at last from the chaotic turmoil of her mind. + </p> + <p> + Garth Trent! He could help her! He had a car—Sara did not know its + pace, but she was certain Trent could be trusted to get every ounce out of + it that was possible. Between them—he and she—they would bring + Molly back to safety! + </p> + <p> + She turned swiftly to Jane Crab. + </p> + <p> + “Come to the stable and help me put in the Doctor's pony, Jane. You know + how, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss, I've helped the master many a time. But you ain't going to + catch no motor with old Toby, Miss Sara.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't expect to. I'm gong to drive across to Far End. Mr. Trent + will help us. Don't worry, Jane”—as the two made their way to the + stable and Jane strangled a sob—“we'll bring Miss Molly back. And, + listen! Mrs. Selwyn isn't to hear a word of this. Do you understand? If + she asks you anything, tell her that Miss Molly and I are dining out. + That'll be true enough, too,” added Sara grimly, “if we dine at all!” + </p> + <p> + Jane sniffed, and swallowed loudly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss,” she said submissively. “You and Miss Molly are dining out. I + won't forget.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <h3> + THEY WHO PURSUED + </h3> + <p> + Selwyn's pony had rarely before found himself hustled along at the pace at + which Sara drove him. She let him take his time up the hills, knowing, as + every good horse-woman knows, that if you press your horse against the + hill, he will only flag the sooner and that you will lose more than you + gain. But down the hills and along the flat, Sara, with hands and whip, + kept Toby going at an amazing pace. Perhaps something of her own urgency + communicated itself to the good-hearted beast, for he certainly made a + great effort and brought her to Far End in a shorter time than she had + deemed possible. + </p> + <p> + Exactly as she pulled him to a standstill, the front door opened and Garth + himself appeared. He had heard the unwonted sound of wheels on the drive, + and now, as he recognized his late visitor, an expression of extreme + surprise crossed his face. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Tennant!” he exclaimed in astonished tones. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Can your man take my pony? And, please may I come in? I—I must + see you alone for a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Trent glanced at her searchingly as his ear caught the note of strain in + her voice. + </p> + <p> + Summoning Judson to take charge of the pony and trap, he led the way into + the comfortable, old fashioned hall and wheeled forward an armchair. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” he said composedly. “Now”—as she obeyed—“tell me + what is the matter.” + </p> + <p> + His manner held a quiet friendliness. The chill indifference he had + accorded her of late—even earlier that same day at Rose Cottage—had + vanished, and his curiously bright eyes regarded her with sympathetic + interest. + </p> + <p> + To the man as he appeared at the moment, it was no difficult matter for + Sara to unburden her heart, and a few minutes later he was in possession + of all the facts concerning Molly's flight. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether Mr. Kent is really a married man or not,” she added + in conclusion. “Brady declares that he is.” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” replied Trent curtly. “Very much married. His first wife divorced + him, and, since then, he has married again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh——!” Sara half-rose from her seat, her face blanching. Not + till that moment did she realize how much in her inmost heart she had been + relying on the hope that Garth might be able to contradict Black Brady's + statement. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry.” Garth laid his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently + back into her chair again. “Don't worry. Thanks to Brady's stroke of + genius about the petrol—I've evidently underestimated the man's good + points—I think I can promise you that you shall have Miss Molly + safely back at Sunnyside in the course of a few hours. That is, if you are + willing to trust me in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will trust you,” she answered simply. Somehow it seemed as + though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders since she had + confided her trouble to Garth. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Now, while Judson gets the car round, you + must have a glass of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “No—oh, no!”—hastily—“I don't want anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to know better than you do in this case,” he replied, smiling. + </p> + <p> + He left the room, presently returning with a bottle of champagne and a + couple of glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please—I'd so much rather start at once,” she protested. “I + really don't want anything. Do let us hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, but I've no intention of starting until you have drunk this”—filling + and handing one of the glasses to her. + </p> + <p> + Rather than waste time in further argument, she accepted it, only to find + that her hand was shaking uncontrollably, so that the edge of the glass + chattered against her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I—I can't!” she gasped helplessly. Now that she had shared her + burden of responsibility, the demands of the last half-hour's anxiety and + strain were making themselves felt. + </p> + <p> + With a swift movement Garth took the glass from her, and, supporting her + with his other arm, held it to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Drink it down,” he said authoritatively. Then, as she paused: “All of + it!” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the wine had brought the colour back to her face, and she + felt more like herself again. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right, now,” she said. “I'm sorry I was such a fool. But—but + this business about Molly has given me rather a shock, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. Now, if you're ready, we'll make a start.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, and he surveyed her slight figure in its thin muslin gown with + some amusement. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite a suitable costume for motoring by night,” he remarked. He + picked up one of the two big fur coats Mrs. Judson had brought into the + room. “Here, put this on.” Then, when he had fastened it round her and + turned the collar up about her neck, he stood looking at her for a moment + in silence. + </p> + <p> + The whole of her slender form was hidden beneath the voluminous folds of + the big coat, which had been originally designed to fit Garth's own + proportions, and against the high fur collar her delicate cameo face, with + its white skin and scarlet lips and its sombre, night-black eyes, emerged + like some vivid flower from its sheath. + </p> + <p> + Trent laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Beauty—in the garment of the Beast,” he commented. Then, briskly: + “Come along. Judson will have the car ready by now.” + </p> + <p> + Sara stepped into the car and he tucked the rugs carefully round her. + Then, directing Judson to drive the Selwyn pony and trap back to + Sunnyside, he took his place at the wheel and the car slid noiselessly + away down the broad drive. + </p> + <p> + “The surprising discovery of the doctor's pony and trap at Far End + to-morrow morning would require explanation,” he observed grimly to Sara. + She blessed his thoughtfulness. + </p> + <p> + “What about Judson?” she asked. “Is he reliable? Or do you think he will—talk?” + </p> + <p> + “Judson,” replied Garth, “has been in my service long enough to know the + meaning of the word 'discretion.'” + </p> + <p> + Trent drove the car steadily enough through town, but, as soon as they + emerged on to the great London main road, he let her out and they swept + rapidly along through the lingering summer twilight. + </p> + <p> + “Are you nervous?” he asked. “Do you mind forty or fifty miles an hour + when we've a clear stretch ahead of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Eighty, if you like,” she replied succinctly. + </p> + <p> + She felt the car leap forward like a living thing beneath them as it + gathered speed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think—is it possible that we can overtake them?” she asked + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “It's got to be done,” he answered, and she was conscious of the quiet + driving-force that lay behind the speech—the stubborn resolution of + the man which she had begun to recognize as his most dominant + characteristic. + </p> + <p> + She wondered, as she had so often wondered before, whether any one had + ever yet succeeded in turning Garth Trent aside from his set purpose, + whatever it might chance to be. She could not imagine his yielding to + either threats or persuasions. However much it might cost him, he would + carry out his intention to the bitter end, even though its fulfillment + might involve the shattering of the whole significance of life. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,”—his voice cut across the familiar tenor of her thoughts—“Kent + will probably stop to dine at some hotel <i>en route</i>. We shan't. We'll + feed as we go.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—h!” A gasp of horrified recollection escaped her. “I never + thought of it! Of course you've had no dinner!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “Have you?” he asked amusedly. + </p> + <p> + “No, but that's different.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll even matters up by having some sandwiches together presently. + Mrs. Judson has packed some in.” + </p> + <p> + Sara was silent, inwardly dwelling on the fact that no least detail ever + seemed to escape Garth's attention. Even in the hurry of their departure, + and with the whole scheme of Molly's rescue to envisage, he had yet found + time to order due provision for the journey. + </p> + <p> + An hour later they pulled up at the principal hotel of the first big town + on the route, and Garth elicited the fact that a car answering to the + description of Lester Kent's had stopped there, but only for a bare ten + minutes which had enabled its occupants to snatch a hasty meal. + </p> + <p> + “They've been here and gone straight on,” he reported to Sara. “Evidently + Kent's taking no chances”—grimly. And a moment later they were on + their way once more. + </p> + <p> + Dusk deepened into dark, and the car's great headlights cut out a blazing + track of gold in front of them as they rushed along the pale ribbon of + road that stretched ahead—mile after interminable mile. + </p> + <p> + On either side, dark woods merged into the deeper darkness of the + encroaching night, seeming to slip past them like some ghostly marching + army as the car tore its way between the ranks of shadowy trunks. + Overhead, a few stars crept out, puncturing the expanse of darkening sky—pale, + tremulous sparks of light in contrast with the steady, warmly golden glow + that streamed from the lights of the car. + </p> + <p> + Presently Garth slackened speed. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you stopping?” Sara's voice, shrilling a little with anxiety, + came to him out of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not stopping. I'm only slowing down a bit, because I think it's quite + feeding time. Do you mind opening those two leather attachments fixed in + front of you? Such nectar and ambrosia as Mrs. Judson has provided is in + there.” + </p> + <p> + Sara leaned forward, and unbuckling the lid of a flattish leather case + which, together with another containing a flask, was slung just opposite + her, withdrew from within it a silver sandwich-box. She snapped open the + lid and proffered the box to Garth. + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself. And—do you mind”—he spoke a little uncertainly + and the darkness hid the expression of his face from her—“handing me + my share—in pieces suitable for human consumption? This is a bad bit + of road, and I want both hands for driving the car.” + </p> + <p> + In silence Sara broke the sandwiches and fed him, piece by piece, while he + bent over the wheel, driving steadily onward. + </p> + <p> + The little, intimate action sent a curious thrill through her. It seemed + in some way to draw them together, effacing the memory of those weeks of + bitter indifference which lay behind them. Such a thing would have been + grotesquely impossible of performance in the atmosphere of studied + formality supplied by their estrangement, and Sara smiled a little to + herself under cover of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “One more mouthful!” she announced as she halved the last sandwich. + </p> + <p> + An instant later she felt his lips brush her fingers in a sudden, burning + kiss, and she withdrew her hand as though stung. + </p> + <p> + She was tingling from head to foot, every nerve of her a-thrill, and for a + moment she felt as though she hated him. He had been so kind, so friendly, + so essentially the good comrade in this crisis occasioned by Molly's + flight, and now he had spoilt it all—playing the lover once more + when he had shown her clearly that he meant nothing by it. + </p> + <p> + Apparently he sensed her attitude—the quick withdrawal of spirit + which had accompanied the more physical retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me!” he said, rather low. “I won't offend again.” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer, and presently she felt the car sliding slowly to a + standstill. A sudden panic assailed her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What are you doing?” she asked, quick fear in her sharply + spoken question. + </p> + <p> + He laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be afraid—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not!” she interpolated hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” he said drily, “but you are. You don't trust me in the + slightest degree. Well”—she could guess, rather than see, the shrug + which accompanied the words—“I can't blame you. It's my own fault, I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + He braked the car, and she quivered to a dead stop, throbbing like a live + thing in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “You must forgive me for being so material,” he went on composedly, “but I + want a drink, and I'm not acrobat enough to manage that, even with your + help, while we're doing thirty miles an hour.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted out the flask, and, when they had both drunk, Sara meekly took + it from him and proceeded to adjust the screw cap and fit the silver cup + back into its place over the lower half of the flask. + </p> + <p> + Simultaneously she felt the car begin to move forward, and then, quite how + it happened she never knew, but, fumbling in the darkness, she contrived + to knock the cup sharply against the flask, and it flew out of her hand + and over the side of the car. Impulsively she leaned out, trying to snatch + it back as it fell, and, in the same instant, something seemed to give + way, and she felt herself hurled forward into space. The earth rushed up + to meet her, a sound as of many waters roared in her ears, and then the + blank darkness of unconsciousness swallowed her up. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE REVELATION OF THE NIGHT + </h3> + <p> + “Thank God, she's only stunned!” + </p> + <p> + The words, percolating slowly through the thick, blankety mist that seemed + to have closed about her, impressed themselves on Sara's mind with a + vague, confused suggestion of their pertinence. It was as though some one—she + wasn't quite sure who—had suddenly given voice to her own immediate + sensation of relief. + </p> + <p> + At first she could not imagine for what reason she should feel so + specially grateful and relieved. Gradually, however, the mists began to + clear away and recollection of a kind returned to her. + </p> + <p> + She remembered dropping something—she couldn't recall precisely what + it was that she had dropped, but she knew she had made a wild clutch at it + and tried to save it as it fell. Then—she was remembering more + distinctly now—something against which she had been leaning—she + couldn't recall what that was, either—gave way suddenly, and for the + fraction of a second she had known she was going to fall and be killed, + or, at the least, horribly hurt and mutilated. + </p> + <p> + And now, it seemed, she had not been hurt at all! She was in no pain; only + her head felt unaccountably heavy. But for that, she was really very + comfortable. Some one was holding her—it was almost like lying back + in a chair—and against her cheek she could feel the soft warmth of + fur. + </p> + <p> + “Sara—beloved!” + </p> + <p> + It was Garth's voice, quite close to her ear. He was holding her in his + arms. + </p> + <p> + Ah! She knew now! They were on the island together, and he had just asked + her if she cared. Of course she cared! It was sheer happiness to lie in + his arms, with closed eyes, and hear his voice—that deep, unhappy + voice of his—grow suddenly so incredibly soft and tender. + </p> + <p> + “You're mine, now, sweet! Mine to hold just for this once, dear of my + heart!” + </p> + <p> + No, that couldn't be right, after all, because it wasn't Garth who loved + her. He had only pretended to care for her by way of amusing himself. It + must be Tim who was talking to her—Tim, whom she was going to marry. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, the mists cleared quite away, and Sara came back to full + consciousness and to the knowledge of where she was and of what had + happened. + </p> + <p> + Her first instinct, to open her eyes and speak, was checked by a swift, + unexpected movement on the part of Garth. All at once, he had gathered her + up into his arms, and, holding her face pressed close against his own, was + pouring into her ears a torrent of burning, passionate words of love—love + triumphant, worshipping, agonizing, and last of all, brokenly, desperately + abandoning all right or claim. + </p> + <p> + “And I've got to live without you . . . die without you . . . My God, it's + hard!” + </p> + <p> + In the darkness and solitude of the night—as he believed, alone with + the unconscious form of the woman he loved in his arms—Garth bared + his very soul. There was nothing hidden any longer, and Sara knew at last + that even as she herself loved, so was she loved again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <h3> + THE JOURNEY'S END + </h3> + <p> + Sara stirred a little and opened her eyes. Deep within herself she was + ashamed of those brief moments of assumed unconsciousness—those + moments which had shown her a strong man's soul stripped naked of all + pride and subterfuge—his heart and soul as he alone knew them. + </p> + <p> + But, none the less, she felt gloriously happy. Nothing could ever hurt her + badly again. Garth loved her! + </p> + <p> + Since, for some reason, he himself would never have drawn aside the veil + and let her know the truth, she was glad—glad that she had peered + unbidden through the rent which the stress of the moment had torn in his + iron self-command and reticence. Just as she had revealed herself to him + on the island, in a moment of equal strain, so he had now revealed himself + to her, and they were quits. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right,” she announced, struggling into a sitting position. “I'm + not hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit still a minute, while I fetch you some brandy from the car.” Garth + spoke in a curiously controlled voice. + </p> + <p> + He was back again in a moment, and the raw spirit made her catch her + breath as it trickled down her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God we had only just begun to move,” he said. “Otherwise you must + have been half-killed.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” she asked curiously. “How did I fall out?” + </p> + <p> + “The door came open. That damned fool, Judson, didn't shut it properly. + Are you sure you're not hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure. My head aches rather.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very probable. You were stunned for a minute or two.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the recollection of their errand returned to her. + </p> + <p> + “Molly! Good Heavens, how much time have we wasted? How long has this + silly business taken?” she demanded, in a frenzy of apprehension. + </p> + <p> + Garth surveyed her oddly in the glow of one of the car's side-lights, + which he had carried back with him when he fetched the brandy. + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes, I should think,” he said, adding under his breath: “Or half + eternity!” + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes! Is that all? Then do let's hurry on.” + </p> + <p> + She took a few steps in the direction of the car, then stopped and + wavered. She felt curiously shaky, and her legs seemed as though they did + not belong to her. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Garth was at her side, and had lifted her up in his arms. He + carried her swiftly across the few yards that intervened between them and + the car, and settled her gently into her seat. + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel fit to go on?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do. We must—bring Molly back.” Even her voice refused + to obey the dictates of her brain, and quavered weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, try to rest a little. Don't talk, and perhaps you'll go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + He restarted the car, and, taking his seat once more at the wheel, drove + on at a smooth and easy pace. + </p> + <p> + Sara leaned back in silence at his side, conscious of a feeling of utter + lassitude. In spite of her anxiety about Molly, a curious contentment had + stolen over her. The long strain of the past weeks had ended—ended + in the knowledge that Garth loved her, and nothing else seemed to matter + very much. Moreover, she was physically exhausted. Her fall had shaken her + badly, and she wanted nothing better than to lie back quietly against the + padded cushions of the car, lulled by the rhythmic throb of the engine, + and glide on through the night indefinitely, knowing that Garth was there, + close to her, all the time. + </p> + <p> + Presently her quiet, even breathing told that she slept, and Garth, + stooping over her to make sure, accelerated the speed, and soon the car + shot forward through the darkness at a pace which none but a driver very + certain of his skill would have dared to attempt. + </p> + <p> + When, an hour later, Sara awoke, she felt amazingly refreshed. Only a + slight headache remained to remind her of her recent accident. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we?” she asked eagerly. “How long have I been asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Feeling better?” queried Garth, reassured by the stronger note in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Quite all right, thanks. But tell me where we are?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly at our journey's end, I take it,” he replied grimly, suddenly + slackening speed. “There's a stationary car ahead there on the left, do + you see? That will be our friends, I expect, held up by petrol shortage, + thanks to Jim Brady.” + </p> + <p> + Sara peered ahead, and on the edge of the broad ribbon of light that + stretched in front of them she could discern a big car, drawn up to one + side of the road, its headlights shut off, its side-lights glimmering + warningly against its dark bulk. + </p> + <p> + Exactly as they drew level with it, Garth pulled up to a standstill. Then + a muttered curse escaped him, and simultaneously Sara gave vent to an + exclamation of dismay. The car was empty. + </p> + <p> + Garth sprang out and flashed a lamp over the derelict. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “that's Kent's car right enough.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's heart sank. + </p> + <p> + “What can have become of them?” she exclaimed. She glanced round her as + though she half suspected that Kent and Molly might be hiding by the + roadside. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Garth had peered into the tank and was examining the petrol cans + stowed away in the back of the deserted car. + </p> + <p> + “Run dry!” he announced, coming back to his own car. “That's what has + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “And what can we do now?” asked Sara despondently. + </p> + <p> + He laughed a little. + </p> + <p> + “Faint heart!” he chided. “What can we do now? Why, ask ourselves what + Kent would naturally have done when he found himself landed high and dry?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what he <i>could</i> do—in the middle of nowhere?” she + answered doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Only we don't happen to be in the middle of nowhere! We're just about a + couple of miles from a market town where abides a nice little inn whence + petrol can be obtained. Kent and Miss Molly have doubtless trudged there + on foot, and wakened up mine host, and they'll hire a trap and drive back + with a fresh supply of oil. By Jove!”—with a grim laugh—“How + Kent must have cursed when he discovered the trick Brady played on him!” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, leaving their car outside, Garth and Sara walked boldly + up to the inn of which he had spoken. The door stood open, and a light was + burning in the coffee-room. Evidently some one had just arrived. + </p> + <p> + Garth glanced into the room, then, standing back, he motioned Sara to + enter. + </p> + <p> + Sara stepped quickly over the threshold and then paused, swept by an + infinite compassion and tenderness almost maternal in its solicitude. + </p> + <p> + Molly was sitting hunched up in a chair, her face half hidden against her + arm, every drooping line of her slight young figure bespeaking weariness. + She had taken off her hat and tossed it on to the table, and now she had + dropped into a brief, uneasy slumber born of sheer fatigue and excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Molly!” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of Sara's voice she opened big, startled eyes and stared + incredulously. + </p> + <p> + Sara moved swiftly to her. + </p> + <p> + “Molly dear,” she said, “I've come to take you home.” + </p> + <p> + At that Molly started up, broad awake in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “You? How did you come here?” she stammered. Then, realization waking in + her eyes: “But I'm not coming back with you. We've only stopped for + petrol. Lester's outside, somewhere, seeing about it now. We're driving + back to the car.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. But you're not going on with Mr. Kent”—very gently—“you're + coming home with us.” + </p> + <p> + Molly drew herself up, flaring passionate young defiance, talking glibly + of love, and marriage, and living her own life—all the beautiful, + romantic nonsense that comes so readily to the soft lips of youth, the + beckoning rose and gold of sunrise—and of mirage—which is all + youth's untrained eyes can see. + </p> + <p> + Sara was getting desperate. The time was flying. At any moment Kent might + return. Garth signaled to her from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “You must tell her,” he said gruffly. “If Kent returns before we go, we + shall have a scene. Get her away quick.” + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded. Then she came back to Molly's side. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said pitifully. “You can never marry Lester Kent, because—because + he has a wife already.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it!” The swift denial leaped from Molly's lips. + </p> + <p> + But she did believe it, nevertheless. No one who knew Sara could have + looked into her eyes at that moment and doubted that she was speaking not + only what she believed to be, but what she <i>knew</i> to be, the ugly + truth. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Molly crumpled up. As, between them, Garth and Sara hurried her + away to the car, there was no longer anything of the regal young goddess + about her. She was just a child—a tired, frightened child whose eyes + had been suddenly opened to the quicksands whereon her feet were set, and, + like a child, she turned instinctively and clung to the dear, familiar + people from home, who were mercifully at hand to shield her when her whole + world had suddenly grown new and strange and very terrible. . . . + </p> + <p> + On, on through the night roared the big car, with Garth bending low over + the wheel in front, while, in the back-seat Molly huddled forlornly into + the curve of Sara's arm. + </p> + <p> + A few questions had elicited the whole foolish story of Lester Kent's + infatuation, and of the steps he had taken to enmesh poor simple-hearted + Molly in the toils—first, by lending her money, then, when he found + that the loan had scared her, by buying her pictures and surrounding her + with an atmosphere of adulation which momentarily blinded her from forming + any genuine estimate either of the value of his criticism or of the + sincerity of his desire to purchase. + </p> + <p> + Once the head resting against Sara's shoulder was lifted, and a wistfully + incredulous voice asked, very low— + </p> + <p> + “You are sure he is married, Sara,—<i>quite sure</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure, Molly,” came the answer. + </p> + <p> + And later, as they were nearing home, Molly's hardly-bought philosophy of + life revealed itself in the brief comment: “It's very easy to make a fool + of oneself.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably Mr. Kent has found that out—by this time,” replied Sara + with a grim flash of humour. + </p> + <p> + A faint, involuntary chuckle in response premised that ultimately Molly + might be able to take a less despondent view of the night's proceedings. + </p> + <p> + It was between two and three in the morning when at length the travelers + climbed stiffly out of the car at the gateway of Sunnyside and made their + way up the little tiled path that led to the front door. The latter opened + noiselessly at their approach and Jane, who had evidently been watching + for them, stood on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Her small, beady eyes were red-rimmed with sleeplessness—and with + the slow, difficult tears that now and again had overflowed as hour after + hour crawled by, bringing no sign of the wanderers' return—and the + shadows of fatigue that had hollowed her weather-beaten cheeks wrung a + sympathetic pang from Sara's heart as she realized what those long, + inactive hours of helpless anxiety must have meant to the faithful soul. + </p> + <p> + Jane's glance flew to the drooping, willowy figure clinging to Garth's + arm. + </p> + <p> + “My lamb! . . . Oh! Miss Molly dear, they've brought 'ee back!” + Impulsively she caught hold of Garth's coat-sleeve. “Thank God you've + brought them back, sir, and now there's none as need ever know aught but + that they've been in their beds all the blessed night!” Her lips were + shaking, drawn down at the corners like those of a distressed child, but + her harsh old voice quivered triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + A very kindly gleam showed itself in Garth's dark face as he patted the + rough, red hand that clutched his coat-sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've brought them back safely,” he said. “Put them to bed, Jane. + Miss Sara's fallen out of the car and Miss Molly has tumbled out of + heaven, so they're both feeling pretty sore.” + </p> + <p> + But Sara's soreness was far the easier to bear, since it was purely + physical. As she lay in bed, at last, utterly weary and exhausted, the + recollection of all the horror and anxiety that had followed upon the + discovery of Molly's flight fell away from her, and she was only conscious + that had it not been for that wild night-ride which Molly's danger had + compelled, she would never have known that Garth loved her. + </p> + <p> + So, out of evil, had come good; out of black darkness had been born the + exquisite clear shining of the dawn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <h3> + THE SECOND BEST + </h3> + <p> + Sara laid down her pen and very soberly re-read the letter she had just + written. It was to Tim Durward, telling him the engagement between them + must be at an end, and its accomplishment had been a matter of sore + embarrassment and mental struggle. Sara hated giving pain, and she knew + that this letter, taking from Tim all—and it was so painfully little—that + she had ever given him, must bring very bitter pain to the man to whom, as + friend and comrade, she was deeply attached. + </p> + <p> + It was barely a month since she had promised to marry him, and it was a + difficult, ungracious task, and very open to misapprehension, to write and + rescind that promise. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was characteristic of Sara that no other alternative presented + itself to her. Now that she was sure Garth cared for her—whether + their mutual love must remain for ever unfulfilled, unconsummated, or not—she + knew that she could never give herself to any other man. + </p> + <p> + She folded and sealed the letter, and then sat quietly contemplating the + consequences that it might entail. Almost inevitably it would mean a + complete estrangement from the Durwards. Elisabeth would be very unlikely + ever to forgive her for her treatment of Tim; even kindly hearted Major + Durward could not but feel sore about it; and since Garth had not asked + her to marry him—and showed no disposition to do any such thing—they + would almost certainly fail to understand or sympathize with her point of + view. + </p> + <p> + Sara sighed as she dropped her missive into the letter-box. It meant an + end to the pleasant and delightful friendship which had come into her life + just at the time when Patrick Lovell's death had left it very empty and + desolate. + </p> + <p> + Two days of suspense ensued while she restlessly awaited Tim's reply. + Then, on the third day, he came himself, his eyes incredulous, his face + showing traces of the white night her letter had cost him. + </p> + <p> + He was very gentle with her. There was no bitterness or upbraiding, and he + suffered her explanation with a grave patience that hurt her more than any + reproaches he could have uttered. + </p> + <p> + “I believed it was only I who cared, Tim,” she told him. “And so I felt + free to give you what you wanted—to be your wife, if you cared to + take me, knowing I had no love to give. I thought”—she faltered a + little—“that I might as well make <i>someone</i> happy! But now that + I know he loves me as I love him, I couldn't marry any one else, could I?” + </p> + <p> + “And are you going to marry him—this man you love?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. He has not asked me to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he is married already?” + </p> + <p> + Sara met his eyes frankly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know even that.” + </p> + <p> + Tim made a fierce gesture of impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Is it playing fair—to keep you in ignorance like that?” he + demanded. + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. But somehow I don't mind. I am sure he must have a good + reason—or else”—with a flash of humour—“some silly man's + reason that won't be any obstacle at all!” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing”—Tim bent over her, his face rather white—“supposing + you find—later on—that there is some real obstacle—that + he can't marry you, would you come to me—then, Sara?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, Tim, not now. Don't you see, now that I know he cares for me—everything + is altered. I'm not free, now. In a way, I belong to him. Oh! How can I + explain? Even though we may never marry, there is a faithfulness of the + spirit, Tim. It's—it's the biggest part of love, really——” + </p> + <p> + She broke off, and presently she felt Tim's hands on her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand, dear,” he said gently. “It's just what I should + expect of you. It means the end of everything—everything that + matters for me. But—somehow—I would not have you otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + He did not stay very long after that. They talked together a little, + promising each other that their friendship should still remain unbroken + and unspoilt. + </p> + <p> + “For,” as Tim said, “if I cannot have the best that the world can give—your + love, Sara, I need not lose the second best—which is your + friendship.” + </p> + <p> + And Sara, watching him from the window as he strode away down the little + tiled path, wondered why love comes so often bearing roses in one hand and + a sharp goad in the other. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <h3> + THE PITILESS ALTAR + </h3> + <p> + Elisabeth was pacing restlessly up and down the broad, flagged terrace at + Barrow, impatiently awaiting Tim's return from Monkshaven. + </p> + <p> + She knew his errand there. He had scarcely needed to tell her the contents + of Sara's letter, so swiftly had she summed up the immediate connection + between the glimpse she had caught of Sara's handwriting and the shadow on + the beloved face. + </p> + <p> + She moved eagerly to meet him as she heard the soft purr of the motor + coming up the drive. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she queried, slipping her arm through his and drawing him towards + the terrace. + </p> + <p> + Tim looked at her with troubled eyes. He could guess so exactly what her + attitude would be, and he was not going to allow even Elisabeth to say + unkind things about the woman he loved. If he could prevent it, she should + not think them. + </p> + <p> + Very gently, and with infinite tact, he told her the result of his + interview with Sara, concealing so far as might be his own incalculable + hurt. + </p> + <p> + To his relief, his mother accepted the facts with unexpected tolerance. He + could not see her expression, since her eyes veiled themselves with + down-dropped lids, but she spoke quite quietly and as though trying to be + fair in her judgment. There was no outward sign by which her son might + guess the seething torrent of anger and resentment which had been aroused + within her. + </p> + <p> + “But if, as you tell me, Sara doesn't expect to marry this man she cares + for, surely she had been unduly hasty? If he can never be anything to her, + need she set aside all thought of matrimony?” + </p> + <p> + Tim stared at his mother in some surprise. There was a superficial worldly + wisdom in the speech which he would not have anticipated. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me rather absurd,” she continued placidly. “Quixotic—the + sort of romantic 'live and die unwed' idea that is quite exploded. Girls + nowadays don't wither on their virgin stems if the man they want doesn't + happen to be in a position to marry them. They marry some one else.” + </p> + <p> + Tim felt almost shocked. From his childhood he had invested his mother + with a kind of rarefied grace of mental and moral qualities commensurate + with her physical beauty, and her enunciation of the cynical creed of + modern times staggered him. It never occurred to him that Elisabeth was + probing round in order to extract a clear idea of Sara's attitude in the + whole matter, and he forthwith proceeded innocently to give her precisely + the information she was seeking. + </p> + <p> + “Sara isn't like that, mother,” he said rather shortly. “It's just the—the + crystal purity of her outlook which makes her what she is—so + absolutely straight and fearless. She sees love, and holds by what she + believes its demands to be. I wouldn't wish her any different,” he added + loyally. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. But if—supposing the man proves to have a wife + already? He might be separated from her; Sara doesn't seem to know much + about him. Or he may have a wife in a lunatic asylum who is likely to live + for the next forty years. What then? Will Sara never marry if—if + there were a circumstance like that—a really insurmountable + obstacle?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't believe she will. I don't think she would wish to. If he + loves her and she him, spiritually they would be bound to one another—lovers. + And just the circumstance of his being tied to another woman would make no + difference to Sara's point of view. She goes beyond material things—or + the mere physical side of love.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is no chance for you unless Sara learns to <i>unlove</i> this + man?” + </p> + <p> + Tim regarded her with faint amusement. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, do you think you could learn to unlove me—or my father?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed a little. + </p> + <p> + “You have me there, Tim,” she acknowledged. “But”—hesitating a + little—“Sara knows so little of the man, apparently, that she may + have formed a mistaken estimate of his character. Perhaps he is not really + the—the ideal individual she has pictured him.” + </p> + <p> + Tim smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You are a very transparent person, mother mine,” he said indulgently. + “But I'm afraid your hopes of finding that the idol has feet of clay are + predestined to disappointment.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you met the man?” asked Elisabeth sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I do not even know his name. But I should imagine him a man of big, fine + qualities.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you don't know him, you can hardly pronounce an opinion.” + </p> + <p> + A whimsical smile, touched with sadness, flitted across Tim's face. + </p> + <p> + “I know Sara,” was all he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sara is given to idealizing the people she cares for,” rejoined + Elisabeth. + </p> + <p> + She spoke quietly, but her expression was curiously intent. It was as + though she were gathering together her forces, concentrating them towards + some definite purpose, veiled in the inscrutable depths of those strange + eyes of hers. + </p> + <p> + “I find it difficult to forgive her,” she said at last. + </p> + <p> + “That's not like you, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “It is—just like me,” she responded, a tone of half-tender mockery + in her voice. “Naturally I find it difficult to forgive the woman who has + hurt my son.” + </p> + <p> + Tim answered her out of the fullness of the queer new wisdom with which + love had endowed him. + </p> + <p> + “A man would rather be hurt by the woman he loves than humoured by the + woman he doesn't love,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + And Elisabeth, understanding, held her peace. + </p> + <p> + She had been very controlled, very wise and circumspect in her dealing + with Tim, conscious of raw-edged nerves that would bear but the lightest + of handling. But it was another woman altogether who, half-an-hour later, + faced Geoffrey Durward in the seclusion of his study. + </p> + <p> + The two moving factors in Elisabeth's life had been, primarily, her love + for her husband, and, later on, her love for Tim, and into this later love + was woven all the passionately protective instinct of the maternal + element. She was the type of woman who would have plucked the feathers + from an archangel's wing if she thought they would contribute to her son's + happiness; and now, realizing that the latter was threatened by the fact + that his love for Sara had failed to elicit a responsive fire, she felt + bitterly resentful and indignant. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Geoffrey,” she declared in low, forceful tones, “she <i>shall</i> + marry Tim—<i>she shall</i>! I will not have his beautiful young life + marred and spoilt by the caprices of any woman.” + </p> + <p> + Major Durward looked disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I shouldn't call Sara in the least a capricious woman. She knows + her own heart—” + </p> + <p> + “So does Tim!” broke in Elisabeth. “And, if I can compass it, he shall + have his heart's desire.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot force the issue, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I not? There's little a woman <i>cannot</i> do for husband or child! + I tell you, Geoffrey—for you, or for Tim, to give you pleasure, to + buy you happiness, I would sacrifice anybody in the world!” + </p> + <p> + She stood in front of him, her beautiful eyes glowing, and her voice was + all shaken and a-thrill with the tumult of emotion that had gripped her. + There was something about her which suggested a tigress on the defensive—at + bay, shielding her young. + </p> + <p> + Durward looked at her with kind, adoring eyes. + </p> + <p> + “That's beautiful of you, darling,” he replied gently. “But it's a + dangerous doctrine. And I know that, really, you're far too tender-hearted + to sacrifice a fly.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth regarded him oddly. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know me, Geoffrey,” she said very slowly. “No man knows a + woman, really—not all her thoughts.” And had Major Durward, honest + fellow, realized the volcanic force of passion hidden behind the tense + inscrutability of his wife's lovely face, he would have been utterly + confounded. We do not plumb the deepest depths even of those who are + closest to us. + </p> + <p> + Civilisation had indeed forced the turgid river to run within the narrow + channels hewn by established custom, but, released from the bondage of + convention, the soul of Elisabeth Durward was that of sheer primitive + woman, and the pivot of all her actions her love for her mate and for the + man-child she had borne him. + </p> + <p> + Once, years ago, she had sacrificed justice, and honour, and a man's faith + in womanhood on that same pitiless altar of love. But the story of that + sacrifice was known only to herself and one other—and that other was + not Durward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <h3> + LOVE'S SACRAMENT + </h3> + <p> + A full week had elapsed since the night of that eventful journey in + pursuit of Molly, and from the moment when Garth had given Sara into the + safe keeping of Jane Crab till the moment when he came upon her by the + pergola at Rose Cottage, perched on the top of a ladder, engaged in tying + back the exuberance of a Crimson Rambler, they had not met. + </p> + <p> + And now, as he halted at the foot of the ladder, Sara was conscious that + her spirits had suddenly bounded up to impossible heights at the sight of + the lean, dark face upturned to her. + </p> + <p> + “The Lavender Lady and Miles are pottering about in the greenhouse,” she + announced explanatorily, waving her hand in the direction of a distant + glimmer of glass beyond the high box hedge which flanked the rose-garden. + </p> + <p> + “Are they?” Trent, thus arrested in the progress of his search for his + host and hostess, seemed entirely indifferent as to whether it were ever + completed or not. He leaned against one of the rose-wreathed pillars of + the pergola and gazed negligently in the direction Sara indicated. + </p> + <p> + “How is Miss Molly?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Sara twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “She is just beginning to discard sackcloth and ashes for something more + becoming,” she informed him gravely. + </p> + <p> + “That's good. Are you—are you all right after your tumble? I'm + making these kind inquiries because, since it was my car out of which you + elected to fall, I feel a sense of responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + Sara descended from the ladder before she replied. Then she remarked + composedly— + </p> + <p> + “It has taken precisely seven days, apparently, for that sense of + responsibility to develop.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, for seven days my thirst for knowledge has been only + restrained by the pointings of conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Then”—she spoke rather low—“was it conscience pointing you—away + from Sunnyside?” + </p> + <p> + His hazel eyes flashed over her face. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it was—discretion,” he suggested. “Looking in at shop + windows when one has an empty purse is a poor occupation—and one to + be avoided.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you want to come?” she persisted gently. + </p> + <p> + Half absently he had cut off a piece of dead wood from the rose-bush next + him and was twisting it idly to and fro between his fingers. At her words, + the dead wood stem snapped suddenly in his clenched hand. For an instant + he seemed about to make some passionate rejoinder. Then he slowly + unclenched his hand and the broken twig fell to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I made it clear to you—yet,” he said slowly, “that what I + want doesn't enter into the scheme of things at all?” + </p> + <p> + The brief speech held a sense of impending finality, and, in the silence + which followed, the eyes of the man and woman met, questioned each other + desperately, and answered. + </p> + <p> + There are moments when modesty is a false quantity, and when the big + happinesses of life depend on a woman's capacity to realize this and her + courage to act upon it. To Sara, it seemed that such a moment had come to + her, and the absolute sincerity of her nature met it unafraid. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said quietly. “You have only made clear to me—what you + want, Garth. Need we—pretend to each other any longer?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you?” She drew a littler nearer him, and the face she lifted to his + was very white. But her eyes were shining. “That night—when I fell + from the car—I—I wasn't unconscious.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant he stared at her, incredulous. Then he swung aside a + little, his hand gripping the pillar against which he had been leaning + till his knuckles showed white beneath the straining skin. + </p> + <p> + “You—weren't unconscious?” he repeated blankly. + </p> + <p> + “No—not all the time. I—heard—what you said.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to pull himself together. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Heaven only knows what I may have said at a moment like that,” he + answered carelessly, but his voice was rough and hoarse. “A man talks wild + when the woman he's with only misses death by a hair's breath.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's lips upturned at the corners in a slow smile—a smile that was + neither mocking, nor tender, nor chiding, but an exquisite blending of all + three. She caught her breath quickly—Trent could hear its soft + sibilance. Then she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Will you marry me, please, Garth?” + </p> + <p> + He drew back from her, violently, his underlip hard bitten. At last, after + a long silence— + </p> + <p> + “No!” he burst out harshly. “No! I can't!” + </p> + <p> + For an instant she was shaken. Then, buoyed up by the memory of that night + when she had lain in his arms and when the agony of the moment had + stripped him of all power to hide his love, she challenged his denial. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Her voice was vibrant. “You love me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes . . . I love you.” The words seemed torn from him. + </p> + <p> + “Then why won't you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + It did not seem to her that she was doing anything unusual or unwomanly. + The man she loved had carried his burden single-handed long enough. The + time had come when for his own sake as well as for hers, she must wring + the truth from him, make him break through the silence which had long been + torturing them both. Whatever might be the outcome, whether pain or + happiness, they must share it. + </p> + <p> + “Why won't you marry me, Garth?” + </p> + <p> + The little question, almost voiceless in its intensity, clamoured loudly + at his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tempt me!” he cried out hoarsely. “My God! I wonder if you know how + you are tempting me?” + </p> + <p> + She came a little closer to him, laying her hand on his arm, while her + great, sombre eyes silently entreated him. + </p> + <p> + As though the touch of her were more than he could bear, his hard-held + passion crashed suddenly through the bars his will had set about it. + </p> + <p> + He caught her in his arms, lifting her sheer off her feet against his + breast, whilst his lips crushed down upon her mouth and throat, burned + against her white, closed lids, and the hard clasp of his arms about her + was a physical pain—an exquisite agony that it was a fierce joy to + suffer. + </p> + <p> + “Then—then you do love me?” She leaned against him, breathless, her + voice unsteady, her whole slender body shaken with an answering passion. + </p> + <p> + “Love you?” The grip of his arms about her made response. “Love you? I + love you with my soul and my body, here and through whatever comes + Hereafter. You are my earth and heaven—the whole meaning of things—” + He broke off abruptly, and she felt his arms slacken their hold and slowly + unclasp as though impelled to it by some invisible force. + </p> + <p> + “What was I saying?” The heat of passion had gone out of his voice, + leaving it suddenly flat and toneless. “'The whole meaning of things?'” He + gave a curious little laugh. It had a strangled sound, almost like the cry + of some tortured thing. “Then things <i>have</i> no meaning——” + </p> + <p> + Sara stood staring at him, bewildered and a little frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Garth, what is it?” she whispered. “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + He turned, and, walking away from her a few paces, stood very still with + his head bent and one hand covering his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Overhead, the sunshine, filtering in through the green trellis of leafy + twigs, flaunted gay little dancing patches of gold on the path below, as + the leaves moved flickeringly in the breeze, and where the twisted growth + of a branch had left a leafless aperture, it flung a single shaft of + quivering light athwart the pergola. It gleamed like a shining sword + between the man and woman, as though dividing them one from the other and + thrusting each into the shadows that lay on either hand. + </p> + <p> + “Garth——” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of her voice he dropped his hand to his side and came slowly + back and stood beside her. His face was almost grey, and the tortured + expression of his eyes seemed to hurt her like the stab of a knife. + </p> + <p> + “You must try to forgive me,” he said, speaking very low and rapidly. “I + had no earthly right to tell you that I cared, because—because I + can't ask you to marry me. I told you once that I had forfeited my claim + to the good things in life. That was true. And, having that knowledge, I + ought to have kept away from you—for I knew how it was going to be + with me from the first moment I saw you. I fought against it in the + beginning—tried not to love you. Afterwards, I gave in, but I never + dreamed that—you—would come to care, too. That seemed + something quite beyond the bounds of human possibility.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it? I can't see why it should?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you?” He smiled a little. “If you were a man who has lived under a + cloud for over twenty years, who has nothing in the world to recommend + him, and only a tarnished reputation as his life-work, you, too, would + have thought it inconceivable. Anyway, I did, and, thinking that, I dared + to give myself the pleasure of seeing you—of being sometimes in your + company. Perhaps”—grimly—“it was as much a torture as a joy on + occasion. . . . But still, I was near you. . . . I could see you—touch + your hand—serve you, perhaps, in any little way that offered. That + was all something—something very wonderful to come into a life that, + to all intents and purposes, was over. And I thought I could keep myself + in hand—never let you know that I cared—” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly tried hard enough to convince me that you didn't,” she + interrupted ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I tried. And I failed. And now, all that remains is for me to go + away. I shall never forgive myself for having brought pain into your life—I, + who would so gladly have brought only happiness. . . . God in Heaven!”—he + whispered to himself as though the thought were almost blinding in the + promise of ecstasy it held—“To have been the one to bring you + happiness! . . .” He fell silent, his mouth wrung and twisted with pain. + </p> + <p> + Presently her voice came to him again, softly supplicating. “I shall never + forgive you—if you go away and leave me,” she added. “I can't do + without you now—now that I know you care.” + </p> + <p> + “But I <i>must</i> go! I can't marry you—you haven't understood—” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I?” She smiled—a small, wise, wonderful smile that began + somewhere deep in her heart and touched her lips and lingered in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she said. “Are you married, Garth?” + </p> + <p> + He started. + </p> + <p> + “Married! God forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “And if you married me, would you be wronging any one?” + </p> + <p> + “Only you yourself,” he answered grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Then nothing else matters. You are free—and I'm free. And I love + you!” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him, her hands outheld, her mouth still touched with + that little, mystic smile. “Please—tell me all over again now much + you love me.” + </p> + <p> + But no answering hands met hers. Instead, he drew away from her and faced + her, stern-lipped. + </p> + <p> + “I must make you understand,” he said. “You don't know what it is that you + are asking. I've made shipwreck of my life, and I must pay the penalty. + But, by God, I'm not going to let you pay it, too! And if you married me, + you would have to pay. You would be joining your life to that of an + outcast. I can never go out into the world as other men may. If I did”—slowly—“if + I did, sooner or later I should be driven away—thrust back into my + solitude. I have nothing to offer—nothing to give—only a life + that has been cursed from the outset. Don't misunderstand me,” he went on + quickly. “I'm not complaining, bidding for your sympathy. If a man's a + fool, he must be prepared to pay for his folly—even though it means + a life penalty for a moment's madness. And I shall have to pay—to + the uttermost farthing. Mine's the kind of debt which destiny never + remits.” He paused; then added defiantly: “The woman who married me would + have to share in that payment—to go out with me into the desert in + which I lie, and she would have to do this without knowing what she was + paying for, or why the door of the world is locked against me. My lips are + sealed, nor shall I ever be able to break the seal. <i>Now</i> do you + understand why I can never ask you, or any other woman to be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + Sara looked at him curiously; he could not read the expression of her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Have you finished?” she asked. “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “All? Isn't it enough?”—with a grim laugh. + </p> + <p> + “And you are letting this—this folly of your youth stand between + us?” + </p> + <p> + “The world applies a harder word than folly to it!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care anything at all about the world. What do <i>you</i> call + it?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I call it folly to ask the criminal in the dock whether he approves the + judge's verdict. He's hardly likely to!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she was silent. Then she seemed to gather herself together. + </p> + <p> + “Garth, do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + The words fell clearly on the still, summer air. + </p> + <p> + “Yes”—doggedly—“I love you. What then?” + </p> + <p> + “What then? Why—this! I don't care what you've done. It doesn't + matter to me whether you are an outcast or not. If you are, then I'm + willing to be an outcast with you. Oh, Garth—My Garth! I've been + begging you to marry me all afternoon, and—and——” with a + broken little laugh—“you can't <i>keep on</i> refusing me!” + </p> + <p> + Before her passionate faith and trust the barriers he had raised between + them came crashing down. His arms went round her, and for a few moments + they clung together and love wiped out all bitter memories of the past and + all the menace of the future. + </p> + <p> + But presently he came back to his senses. Very gently he put her from him. + </p> + <p> + “It's not right,” he stammered unsteadily. “I can't accept this from you. + Dear, you must let me go away. . . . I can't spoil your beautiful life by + joining it to mine!” + </p> + <p> + She drew his arm about her shoulders again. + </p> + <p> + “You will spoil it if you go away. Oh! Garth, you dear, foolish man! When + will you understand that love is the only thing that matters? If you had + committed all the sins in the Decalogue, I shouldn't care! You're mine + now”—jealously—“my lover. And I'm not going to be thrust out + of your life for some stupid scruple. Let the past take care of itself. + The present is ours. And—and I love you, Garth!” + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to reason coolly with her arms about him, her lips so + near his own, and his great love for her pulling at his heart. But he made + one further effort. + </p> + <p> + “If you should ever regret it, Sara?” he whispered. “I don't think I could + bear that.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with steady eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You will not have it to bear,” she said. “I shall never regret it.” + </p> + <p> + Still he hesitated. But the dawn of a great hope grew and deepened in his + face. + </p> + <p> + “If you could be content to live here—at Far End . . . It is just + possible!” He spoke reflectively, as though debating the matter with + himself. “The curse has not followed me to this quiet little corner of the + earth. Perhaps—after all . . . Sara, could you stand such a life? Or + would you always be longing to get out into the great world? As I've told + you, the world is shut to me. There's that in my past which blocks the way + to any future. Have you the faith—the <i>courage</i>—to face + that?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes, steadfast and serene, met his. + </p> + <p> + “I have courage to face anything—with you, Garth. But I haven't + courage to face living without you.” + </p> + <p> + He bent his head and kissed her on the mouth—a slow, lingering kiss + that held something far deeper and more enduring than mere passion. And + Sara, as she kissed him back, her soul upon her lips, felt as though + together they had partaken of love's holy sacrament. + </p> + <p> + “Beloved”—Garth's voice, unspeakably tender, came to her through the + exquisite silence of the moment—“Beloved, it shall be as you wish. + Whether I am right or wrong in taking this great gift you offer me—God + knows! If I am wrong—then, please Heaven, whatever punishment there + be may fall on me alone.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + A SUMMER IDYLL + </h3> + <p> + The summer, of all seasons of the year, is very surely the perfect time + for lovers, and to Sara the days that followed immediately upon her + engagement to Garth Trent were days of unalloyed happiness. + </p> + <p> + These were wonderful hours which they passed together, strolling through + the summer-foliaged woods, or lazing on the sun-baked sands, or, perhaps, + roaming the range of undulating cliffs that stretched away to the west + from the headland where Far End stood guard. + </p> + <p> + During those hours of intimate companionship, Sara began to learn the + hidden deeps of Garth's nature, discovering the almost romantic delicacy + of thought that underlay his harsh exterior. + </p> + <p> + “You're more than half a poet, my Garth!” she told him one day. + </p> + <p> + “A transcendental fool, in other words,” he amended, smiling. “Well”—looking + at her oddly—“perhaps you're right. But it's too late to improve me + any. As the twig is bent, so the tree grows, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to improve you,” Sara assured him promptly. “I shouldn't + like you to be in the least bit different from what you are. It wouldn't + be my Garth, then, at all.” + </p> + <p> + So they would sit together and talk the foolish, charming nonsense that + all lovers have talked since the days of Adam and Eve, whilst from above, + the sun shone down and blessed them, and the waves, lapping peacefully on + the shore, murmured an <i>obbligato</i> to their love-making. + </p> + <p> + Looking backward, in the bitter months that followed when her individual + happiness had been caught away from her in a whirlwind of calamity, and + when the whole world was reeling under the red storm of war, Sara could + always remember the utter, satisfying peace of those golden days of early + July—an innocent, unthinking peace that neither she nor the world + would ever quite regain. Afterwards, memory would always have her scarred + and bitter place at the back of things. + </p> + <p> + Sara found no hardship now in receiving the congratulations of her friends—and + they fell about her like rain—while in the long, intimate talks she + had with Garth the fact that he would never speak of the past weighed with + her not at all. She guessed that long ago he had been guilty of some mad, + boyish escapade which, with his exaggerated sense of honour and the + delicate idealism that she had learned to know as an intrinsic part of his + temperamental make-up, he had magnified into a cardinal sin. And she was + content to leave it at that and to accept the present, gathering up with + both hands the happiness it held. + </p> + <p> + She had written to Elisabeth, telling her of her engagement, and, to her + surprise, had received the most charming and friendly letter in return. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” wrote Elisabeth in her impulsive, flowing hand with its heavy + dashes and fly-away dots, “we cannot but wish that it had been otherwise—that + you could have learned to care for Tim—but you know better than any + one of us where your happiness lies, and you are right to take it. And + never think, Sara, that this is going to make any difference to our + friendship. I could read between the lines of your letter that you had + some such foolish thought in your mind. So little do I mean this to make + any break between us that—as I can quite realize it would be too + much to ask that you should come to us at Barrow just now—I propose + coming down to Monkshaven. I want to meet the lucky individual who has won + my Sara. I have not been too well lately—the heat has tried me—and + Geoffrey is anxious that I should go away to the sea for a little. So that + all things seem to point to my coming to Monkshaven. Does your primitive + little village boast a hotel? Or, if not, can you engage some decent rooms + for me?” + </p> + <p> + The remainder of the letter dealt with the practical details concerning + the proposed visit, and Sara, in a little flurry of joyous excitement, had + hurried off to the Cliff Hotel and booked the best suite of rooms it + contained for Elisabeth. + </p> + <p> + On her way home she encountered Garth in the High Street, and forthwith + proceeded to acquaint him with her news. + </p> + <p> + “I've just been fixing up rooms at the 'Cliff' for a friend of mine who is + coming down here,” she said, as he turned and fell into step beside her. + “A woman friend,” she added hastily, seeing his brows knit darkly. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better! But I could have done without the importation of any + friends of yours—male or female—just now. They're entirely + superfluous”—smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad Mrs. Durward is coming, because—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Who</i> did you say?” broke in Garth, pausing in his stride. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Durward—Tim's mother, you know,” she explained. She had + confided to him the history of her brief engagement to Tim. + </p> + <p> + Trent resumed his walk, but more slowly; the buoyancy seemed suddenly gone + out of his step. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think,” he said, speaking in curiously measured tones, “that, + in the circumstances, it will be a little awkward Mrs. Durward's coming + here just now?” + </p> + <p> + Sara disclaimed the idea, pointing out that it was the very completeness + of Elisabeth's conception of friendship which was bringing her to + Monkshaven. + </p> + <p> + “When does she come?” asked Trent. + </p> + <p> + “On Thursday. I'm very anxious for you to meet her, Garth. She is so + thoroughly charming. I think it is splendid of her not to let my broken + engagement with Tim make any difference between us. Most mothers would + have borne a grudge for that!” + </p> + <p> + “And you think Mrs. Durward has overlooked it?”—with a curious + smile. + </p> + <p> + Sara enthusiastically assured him that this was the case. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder!” he said meditatively. “It would be very unlike Elis—unlike + any woman”—he corrected himself hastily—“to give up a fixed + idea so easily.” + </p> + <p> + “Well”—Sara laughed gaily. “Nowadays you can't <i>compel</i> a + person to marry the man she doesn't want—nor prevent her from + marrying the man she does.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. A determined woman can do a good deal.” + </p> + <p> + “But Elisabeth isn't a bit the determined type of female you're evidently + imagining,” protested Sara, amused. “She is very beautiful and essentially + feminine—rather a wonderful kind of person, I think. Wait till you + see her!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” said Trent slowly, “that I shall not see your charming + friend. I have to run up to Town next week on—on business.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Sara's disappointment showed itself in her voice. “Can't you put it + off?” + </p> + <p> + He halted outside a tobacconist's shop. “Do you mind waiting a moment + while I go in here and get some baccy?” + </p> + <p> + He disappeared into the shop, and Sara stood gazing idly across the + street, watching a jolly little fox-terrier enjoying a small but meaty + bone he had filched from the floor of a neighbouring butcher's shop. + </p> + <p> + His placid enjoyment of the stolen feast was short-lived. A minute later a + lean and truculent Irish terrier came swaggering round the corner, spotted + the succulent morsel, and, making one leap, landed fairly on top of the + smaller dog. In an instant pandemonium arose, and the quiet street + re-echoed to the noise of canine combat. + </p> + <p> + The little fox-terrier put up a plucky fight in defence of his prior claim + to the bone of contention, but soon superior weight began to tell, and it + was evident that the Irishman was getting the better of the fray. The + fox-terrier's owner, very elegantly dressed, watched the battle from a + safe distance, wringing her hands and calling upon all and sundry of the + small crowd which had speedily collected to save her darling from the + lions. + </p> + <p> + No one, however, seemed disposed to relieve her of this office—for + the Irishman was an ugly-looking customer—when suddenly, like a + streak of light, a slim figure flashed across the road, and flung itself + into the <i>melee</i>, whist a vibrating voice broke across the uproar + with an imperative: “Let <i>go</i>, you brute!” + </p> + <p> + It was all over in a moment. Somehow Sara's small, strong hands had + separated the twisting, growling, biting heap of dog into its component + parts of fox and Irish, and she was standing with the little fox-terrier, + panting and bleeding profusely, in her arms, while one or two of the + bystanders—now that all danger was past—drove off the + Irishman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! But how <i>brave</i> of you!” The owner of the fox-terrier rustled + forward. “I can't ever thank you sufficiently.” + </p> + <p> + Sara turned to her, her black eyes blazing. + </p> + <p> + “Is this your dog?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I'm sure”—volubly—“he would have been torn to pieces + by that great hulking brute if you hadn't separated them. I should never + have <i>dared</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Garth, coming out of the tobacconist's shop across the way, joined the + little knot of people just in time to hear Sara answer cuttingly, as she + put the terrier into its owner's arms— + </p> + <p> + “You've no business to <i>have</i> a dog if you've not got the pluck to + look after him!” + </p> + <p> + As she and Trent bent their steps homeward, Sara regaled him with the + full, true, and particular account of the dog-fight, winding up + indignantly— + </p> + <p> + “Foul women like that ought not to be allowed to take out a dog licence. I + hate people who shirk their responsibilities.” + </p> + <p> + “You despise cowards?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “More than anything on earth,” she answered heartily. + </p> + <p> + He was silent a moment. Then he said reflectively— + </p> + <p> + “And yet, I suppose, a certain amount of allowance must be made for—nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me it depends on what your duty demands of you at the + moment,” she rejoined. “Nerves are a luxury. You can afford them when it + makes no difference to other people whether you're afraid or not—but + not when it does.” + </p> + <p> + “And from what deeps did you draw such profound wisdom?” he asked + quizzically. + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed a little. + </p> + <p> + “I had it well rubbed into me by my Uncle Patrick,” she replied. “It was + his <i>Credo</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, I can understand any one's nerves cracking suddenly—after + a prolonged strain.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think yours would,” responded Sara contentedly, with a vivid + recollection of their expedition to the island and its aftermath. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly not. But I suppose no man can be dead sure of himself—always.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you come in?” asked Sara as they paused at Sunnyside gate. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day, I think. I had better begin to accustom myself to doing + without you, as I am going away so soon”—smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you were not going,” she rejoined discontentedly. “I so wanted you + and Elisabeth to meet. <i>Must</i> you go?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I must. And it's better that I should go, on the whole. I + should only be raging up and down like an untied devil because Mrs. + Durward was taking up so much of your time! Let her have you to herself + for a few days—and then, when I come back, I shall have you to <i>myself</i> + again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <h3> + PATCHES OF BLUE + </h3> + <p> + Elisabeth frowned a little as she perused the letter which she had that + morning received from Sara. It contained the information that rooms in her + name had been booked at the Cliff Hotel, and further, that Sara was much + disappointed that it would be impossible to arrange for her to meet Garth + Trent, as he was leaving home on the Wednesday prior to her arrival. + </p> + <p> + Trent's departure was the last thing Elisabeth desired. Above all things, + she wanted to meet the man whom she regarded as the stumbling-block in the + path of her son, for if it were possible that anything might yet be done + to further the desire of Tim's heart, it could only be if Elisabeth, as + the <i>dea ex machina</i>, were acquainted with all the pieces in the + game. + </p> + <p> + She must know what manner of man it was who had succeeded in winning + Sara's heart before she could hope to combat his influence, and, if the + feet of clay were there, she must see them herself before she could point + them out to Sara's love-illusioned eyes. Should she fail of making Trent's + acquaintance, she would be fighting in the dark. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth pondered the matter for some time. Finally, she dispatched a + telegram, prepaying a reply, to the proprietor of the Cliff Hotel, and a + few hours later she announced to her husband that she proposed antedating + her visit to Monkshaven by three days. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go down the day after to-morrow—on Monday,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'd better send a wire to Sara,” suggested Geoffrey. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't do that. I intend taking her by surprise.” Elisabeth smiled and + dimpled like a child in the possession of a secret. “I shall go down there + just in time for dinner, and write to Sara the same evening.” + </p> + <p> + Major Durward laughed with indulgent amusement. + </p> + <p> + “What an absurd lady you are still, Beth!” he exclaimed, his honest face + beaming adoration. “No one would take you to be the mother of a grown-up + son!” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't they?” For a moment Elisabeth's eyes—veiled, enigmatical + as ever—rested on Tim's distant figure, where he stood deep in the + discussion of some knotty point with the head gardener. Then they came + back to her husband's face, and she laughed lightly. “Everybody doesn't + see me through the rose-coloured spectacles that you do, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no 'rose-coloured spectacles' about it,” protested Geoffrey + energetically. “No one on earth would take you for a day more than thirty—if + it weren't for the solid fact of Tim's six feet of bone and muscle!” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth jumped up and kissed her husband impulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Geoffrey, you're a great dear,” she declared warmly. “Now I must run off + and tell Fanchette to pack my things.” + </p> + <p> + So it came about that on the following Tuesday, Sara, to her astonishment + and delight, received a letter from Elisabeth announcing her arrival at + the Cliff Hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Elisabeth is already here!” she exclaimed, addressing the family at + Sunnyside collectively. “She came last night.” + </p> + <p> + Selwyn looked up from his correspondence with a kindly smile. + </p> + <p> + “That's good. You will be able, after all, to bring off the projected + meeting between Mrs. Durward and your hermit—who, by the way, seems + to have deserted his shell nowadays,” he added, twinkling. + </p> + <p> + And Sara, blissfully unaware that in this instance Elisabeth had abrogated + to herself the rights of destiny, responded smilingly— + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Fate has actually arranged things quite satisfactorily for once.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later she presented herself at the Cliff Hotel, and was + conducted upstairs to Mrs. Durward's sitting-room on the first floor. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth welcomed her with all her wonted charm and sweetness. There was + a shade of gravity in her manner as she spoke of Sara's engagement, but no + hint of annoyance. She dwelt solely on Tim's disappointment and her own, + exhibiting no bitterness, but only a rather wistful regret that another + had succeeded where Tim had failed. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” she said, drawing Sara out on to the balcony, where she had + been sitting prior to the latter's arrival, “and now, tell me about the + lucky man.” + </p> + <p> + Sara found it a little difficult to describe the man she loved to the + mother of the man she didn't love, but finally, by dint of skilful + questioning, Elisabeth elicited the information she sought. + </p> + <p> + “Forty-three!” she exclaimed, as Sara vouchsafed his age. “But that's much + too old for you, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + Sara shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit,” she smiled back. + </p> + <p> + “It seems so to me,” persisted Elisabeth, regarding her with judicial + eyes. “Somehow you convey such an impression of youth. You always remind + me of spring. You are so slim and straight and vital—like a young + sapling. However, perhaps Mr. Trent also has the faculty of youth. Youth + isn't a matter of years, after all,” she added contemplatively. + </p> + <p> + “Now go on,” she commanded, after a moment. “Tell me what he looks like.” + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed and plunged into a description of Garth's personal + appearance. + </p> + <p> + “And he's got queer eyes—tawny-coloured like a dog's,” she wound up, + “with a quaint little patch of blue close to each of the pupils.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth leaned forward, and beneath the soft laces of her gown the rise + and fall of her breast quickened perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “Patches of blue?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—it sounds as though the colours had run, doesn't it?” pursued + Sara, laughing a little. “But it's really rather effective.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you say his name was Trent—Garth Trent?” asked Elisabeth. + She had gone a little grey about the mouth, and she moistened her lips + with her tongue before speaking. There was a tone of incredulity in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It's not a beautiful name, is it?” smiled Sara. + </p> + <p> + “It's rather a curious one,” agreed Elisabeth with an effort. “I'm really + quite longing to meet this odd man with the patchwork eyes and the funny + name.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall see him to-day,” Sara promised. “Audrey Maynard is giving a + picnic in Haven Woods, and Garth will be there. You will come with us, + won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I must,” replied Elisabeth. “Although”—negligently—“picnics + are not much in my line.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Audrey's picnics aren't like other people's,” rejoined Sara + reassuringly. “She runs them just as she runs everything else, on lines of + combined perfection and informality! The lunch will be the production of a + French chef, and the company a few carefully selected intimates.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I'll come—if you're sure Mrs. Maynard won't object to + the introduction of a complete stranger.” + </p> + <p> + Sara regarded her affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever met any one who 'objected' to you yet?” she asked with some + amusement. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth made no answer. Instead, she pointed to the Monk's Cliff, where + the grey stone of Far End gleamed in the sunlight against its dark + background of trees. + </p> + <p> + “Who lives there?” she asked. Sara's eyes followed the direction of her + hand, and she smiled. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I'm</i> going to live there,” she answered. “That's Garth's home.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h!” Elisabeth drew a quick breath. “It's a grim-looking place,” she + added, after a moment. “Rather lonely, I should imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “Garth is fond of solitude,” replied Sara simply, and she missed the + swift, searching glance instantly leveled at her by the hyacinth eyes. + </p> + <p> + When at length she took her departure, it was with a promise to return + later on with Molly and Dr. Selwyn, so that they could all four walk out + to Haven Woods together—since the doctor had undertaken to get + through his morning's rounds in time to join the picnicking party. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth accompanied her visitor to the head of the stairs, and then, + returning to her room, stepped out on to the balcony once more. For a long + time she stood leaning against the balustrade, gazing thoughtfully across + the bay to that lonely house on the slope of the cliff. + </p> + <p> + “Garth Trent!” she murmured. “<i>Trent</i>! . . . And eyes with patches of + blue in them! . . . Heavens! Can it possibly be? <i>Can</i> it be?” + </p> + <p> + There was a curious quality in her voice, a blending of incredulity and + distaste, and yet something that savoured of satisfaction—almost of + triumph. + </p> + <p> + Across her mental vision flitted a memory of just such eyes—gay, + laughing, love-lit eyes, out of which the laughter had been suddenly + dashed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <h3> + THE CUT DIRECT + </h3> + <p> + It was a merry party which had gathered together in the shady heart of + Haven Woods. The Selwyns, Sara and Elisabeth, Miles Herrick and the + Lavender Lady were all there, and, in addition, there was a large and + light-hearted contingent from Greenacres, where Audrey was entertaining a + houseful of friends. Only Garth had not yet arrived. + </p> + <p> + Two young subalterns on leave and a couple of pretty American sisters, all + of them staying at Greenacres, were making things hum, nobly seconded in + their efforts by Miles Herrick, who had practically recovered from his + sprained ankle and one of whose “good days” it chanced to be. + </p> + <p> + Every one seemed bubbling over with good-humour and high spirits, so that + the dell re-echoed to the shouts of jolly laughter, while the birds, + flitting nervously hither and thither, wondered what manner of creatures + these were who had invaded their quiet sanctuary of the woods. And + presently, when the whole party gathered round the white cloth, spread + with every dainty that the inspired mind of Audrey's chef had been able to + devise, and the popping corks began to punctuate the babble of chattering + voices, they took wing and fled incontinently. They had heard similar + sharp, explosive sounds before, and had noted them as being generally the + harbingers of sudden death. + </p> + <p> + “Where's that wretched hermit of yours, Sara?” demanded Audrey gaily. “I + told him we should lunch at one, and it's already a quarter-past. Ah!”—catching + sight of a lean, supple figure advancing between the trees—“Here he + is at last!” + </p> + <p> + A shout greeted Garth's approach, and the uproarious quartette composed of + the two subalterns and the girls from New York City pounded joyously with + their forks upon their plates, creating a perfect pandemonium of noise, + Miles recklessly participating in the clamorous welcome, while the + Lavender Lady fluttered her handkerchief, and Sara and Audrey both hurried + forward to meet the late comer. In the general excitement nobody chanced + to observe the effect which Trent's appearance had had upon one of the + party. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth had half-risen from the grassy bank on which she had been + sitting, and her face was suddenly milk-white. Even her lips had lost + their soft rose-colour, and were parted as if an exclamation of some kind + had been only checked from passing them by sheer force of will. + </p> + <p> + Out of her white face, her eyes, seeming so dark that they were almost + violet, stared fixedly at Garth as he approached. Their expression was as + masked, as enigmatical as ever, yet back of it there gleamed an odd light, + and it was as though some curious menace lay hidden in its quiet, + slumbrous fire. + </p> + <p> + The little group composed of Audrey, Sara, and Garth had joined the main + party now, and Garth was shaking eager, outstretched hands and laughingly + tossing back the shower of chaff which greeted his tardy arrival. + </p> + <p> + Then Sara, laying her hand on his arm, steered him towards Elisabeth. Some + one who had been standing a little in front of the latter, screening her + from Trent's view, moved aside as they approached. + </p> + <p> + “Garth, let me introduce you to Mrs. Durward.” + </p> + <p> + The smile that would naturally have accompanied the words was arrested ere + it dawned, and involuntarily Sara drew back before the instant, startling + change in Garth's face. It had grown suddenly ashen, and his eyes were + like those of a man who, walking in some pleasant place, finds all at + once, that a bottomless abyss has opened at his feet. + </p> + <p> + For a full moment he and Elisabeth stared at each other in a silence so + vital, so pregnant with some terrible significance, that it impacted upon + the whole prevailing atmosphere of care-free jollity. + </p> + <p> + A sudden muteness descended on the party, the laughing voices trailing off + into affrighted silence, and in the dumb stillness that followed Sara was + vibrantly conscious of the hostile clash of wills between the man and + woman who had, in a single instant, become the central figures of the + little group. + </p> + <p> + Then Elisabeth's voice—that amazingly sweet voice of hers—broke + the profound quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Mr.—Trent”—she hesitated delicately before the name—“and + I have met before.” + </p> + <p> + And quite deliberately, with a proud, inflexible dignity, she turned her + back upon him and moved away. + </p> + <p> + Sara never forgot the few moments that followed. She felt as though she + were on the brink of some crisis in her life which had been slowly drawing + nearer and nearer to her and was now acutely imminent, and instinctively + she sought to gather all her energies together to meet it. What it might + be she could not guess, but she was sure that this declared enmity between + the man she loved and the woman who was her friend preluded some menace to + her happiness. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sought Garth's in horror-stricken interrogation. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What does she mean?” she demanded swiftly, in a breathless + undertone, instinctively drawing aside from the rest of the party. + </p> + <p> + He laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “She means mischief, probably,” he replied. “Mrs. Durward is no friend of + mine.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes blazed. + </p> + <p> + “She shall explain,” she exclaimed impetuously, and she swung aside, + meaning to follow Elisabeth and demand an explanation of the insult. But + Garth checked her. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said decidedly. “Please do nothing—say nothing. For + Audrey's sake we can't have a scene—here.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's unpardonable——” + </p> + <p> + “Do as I say,” he insisted. “Believe me, you will only make things worse + if you interfere. I will make my apologies to Audrey and go. For my sake, + Sara”—he looked at her intently—“go back and face it out. + Behave as if nothing had happened.” + </p> + <p> + Compelled, in spite of herself, by his insistence, Sara reluctantly + assented and, leaving him, made her way slowly back to the others. + </p> + <p> + A disjointed buzz of talk sprayed up against her ears. Every one rushed + into conversation, making valiant, if quite fruitless efforts to behave as + though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, while, a little apart + from the main group, Elisabeth stood alone. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Trent sought out his hostess, and together they moved away, + pausing at last beneath the canopy of trees. + </p> + <p> + “No words can quite meet what has just occurred,” he said formally. “I can + only express my regret that my presence here should have occasioned such a + <i>contretemps</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Although the whole brief scene had been utterly incomprehensible to her, + Audrey intuitively sensed the bitter hurt underlying the harshly spoken + words, and the outraged hostess was instantly submerged in the friend. + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry about it, Garth,” she said gently, “although, of course, I + don't understand Mrs. Durward's behaviour.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very kind of you!” he replied, his voice softening. “But please + do not visit your very natural indignation upon Mrs. Durward. I alone am + to blame, I ought never to have renounced my role of hermit. + Unfortunately”—with a brief smile of such sadness that Audrey felt + her heart go out to him in a sudden rush of sympathy—“my mere + presence is an abuse of my friends' hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she exclaimed quickly. “We are all glad to have you with us—we + were so pleased when—when at last you came out of your shell, Garth”—with + a faint smile. + </p> + <p> + “Still the fact remains that I am outside the social pale. I had no + business to thrust myself in amongst you. However—after this—you + may rest assured that I shan't offend again.” + </p> + <p> + “I decline to rest assured of anything of the kind,” asserted Audrey with + determination. “Don't be such a fool, Garth—or so unfair to your + friends. Just because you chance to have met a women who, for some reason, + chooses to cut you, doesn't alter our friendship for you in the very + least. What Mrs. Durward may have against you I don't know—and I + don't care either. <i>I</i> have nothing against you, and I don't propose + to give any pal of mine the go-by because some one else happens to have + quarreled with him.” + </p> + <p> + Trent's eyes were curiously soft as he answered her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for that,” he said earnestly. “All the same, I think you will + have to make up your mind to allow your—friend, as you are good + enough to call me, to go to the wall. You, and others like you, dragged + him out, but, believe me, his place is not in the centre of the room. + There are others besides Mrs. Durward who would give you the reason why, + if you care to know it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care to know it,” responded Audrey firmly. “In fact, I should + decline to recognize any reason against my calling you friend. I don't + intend to let you go, nor will Miles, you'll find.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Herrick! He's a good chap, isn't he?” said Trent a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “We all are—once you get to know us,” returned Audrey, persistently + cheerful. “And Sara—Sara won't let you go either, Garth.” + </p> + <p> + His sensitive, bitter mouth twisted suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't mind,” he said quickly, “we won't talk about Sara. And I + won't keep you any longer from your guests. It was—just like you—to + take it as you have done, Audrey. And if, later on, you find yourself + obliged to revise your opinion of me—I shall understand. And I shall + not resent it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not very likely to do what you suggest.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with a curious expression on his face. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it is only too probable,” he rejoined simply. + </p> + <p> + He wrung her hand, and, turning, walked swiftly away through the wood, + while Audrey retraced her footsteps in the direction of the dell. + </p> + <p> + She was feeling extremely annoyed at what she considered to be Mrs. + Durward's hasty and inconsiderate action. It was unpardonable of any one + thus to spoil the harmony of the day, she reflected indignantly, and then + she looked up and met Elisabeth's misty, hyacinth eyes, full of a gentle, + appealing regret. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Maynard, I must beg you to try and pardon me,” she said, approaching + with a charming gesture of apology. “I have no excuse to offer except that + Mr. Trent is a man I—I cannot possibly meet.” She paused and seemed + to swallow with some difficulty, and of a sudden Audrey was conscious of a + thrill of totally unexpected compassion. There was so evidently genuine + pain and emotion behind the hesitating apology. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you should have been distressed,” she replied kindly. “It has + been a most unfortunate affair all round.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth bestowed a grateful little smile upon her. + </p> + <p> + “If you will forgive me,” she said, “I will say good-bye now. I am sure + you will understand my withdrawing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, you mustn't think of such a thing,” cried Audrey hospitably, + though within herself she could not but acknowledge that the suggestion + was a timely one. “Please don't run away from us like that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of you, but really—if you will excuse me—I + think I would prefer not to remain. I feel somewhat <i>bouleversee</i>. + And I am so distressed to have been the unwitting cause of spoiling your + charming party.” + </p> + <p> + Audrey hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if you would really rather go——” she began. + </p> + <p> + “I would rather,” persisted Elisabeth with a gentle inflexibility of + purpose. “Will you give a message to Sara for me?” Audrey nodded. “Ask her + to come and see me to-morrow, and tell her that—that I will + explain.” Suddenly she stretched out an impulsive hand. “Oh, Mrs. Maynard! + If you knew how much I dread explaining this matter to Sara! Perhaps, + however”—her eyes took on a thoughtful expression—“Perhaps, + however, it may not be necessary—perhaps it can be avoided.” + </p> + <p> + A sense of foreboding seemed to close round Audrey's heart, as she met the + gaze of the beautiful, enigmatic eyes. What was it that Elisabeth intended + to “explain” to Sara? Something connected with Garth Trent, of course, and + it was impossible, in view of the attitude Elisabeth had assumed, to hope + that it could be aught else than something to his detriment. + </p> + <p> + “If an explanation can be avoided, Mrs. Durward,” she said rather coldly, + “I think it would be much better. The least said, the soonest mended, you + know,” she added, looking straight into the baffling eyes. + </p> + <p> + The two women, all at once antagonistic and suspicious of each other, + shook hands formally, and Elisabeth took her way through the woods, while + Audrey rejoined her neglected guests and used her best endeavours to + convert an entertainment that threatened to become a failure into, at + least, a qualified success. By dint of infinite tact, and the loyal + cooperation of Miles Herrick, she somehow achieved it, and the majority of + the picnickers enjoyed themselves immensely. + </p> + <p> + Only Sara felt as though a shadow had crept out from some hidden place and + cast its grey length across the path whereon she walked, while Miles and + Audrey, discerning the shadow with the clear-sighted vision of friendship, + were filled with apprehension for the woman whom they had both learned to + love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <h3> + A MIDNIGHT VISITOR + </h3> + <p> + Judson crossed the hall at Far End and, opening the front door, peered + anxiously out into the moonlit night for the third time that evening. + </p> + <p> + Neither he nor his wife could surmise what had become of their master. He + had gone away, as they knew, with the intention of joining a picnic party + in Haven Woods, but he had given no instructions that he wished the + dinner-hour postponed, and now the beautiful little dinner which Mrs. + Judson had prepared and cooked for her somewhat exigent employer had been + entirely robbed of its pristine delicacy of flavour, since it had been + “keeping hot” in the oven for at least two hours. + </p> + <p> + “Coming yet?” queried Mrs. Judson, as her husband returned to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + The latter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not a sign of 'im,” he replied briefly. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, the house door opened and closed with a bang, and + Judson hastened upstairs to ascertain his master's wishes. When he again + rejoined the wife of his bosom, his face wore a look of genuine concern. + </p> + <p> + “Something's happened,” he announced solemnly. “Ten years have I been in + Mr. Trent's service, and never, Maria, never have I seen him look as he do + now.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he looking like, then?” demanded Mrs. Judson, pausing with a + saucepan in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Like a man what's been in hell,” replied her husband dramatically. “He's + as white as that piece of paper”—pointing to the sheet of cooking + paper with which Mrs. Judson had been conscientiously removing the grease + from the chipped potatoes. “And his eyes look wild. He's been walking, too—must + have walked twenty miles or thereabouts, I should think, for he seems dead + beat and his boots are just a mask of mud. His coat's torn and splashed, + as well—as if he'd pushed his way through bushes and all, without + ever stopping to see where he was going.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he'll be wanting his dinner,” observed Mrs. Judson practically. + “I'll dish it up—'tisn't what you might call actually spoiled as + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “He won't have any. 'Judson,' he says to me, 'bring me a whisky-and-soda + and some sandwiches. I don't want nothing else. And then you can lock up + and go to bed.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, bless the man, look alive and get the whisky-and-soda and a + tray ready whiles I cut the sandwiches,” exclaimed the excellent Mrs. + Judson promptly, giving her bemused spouse a push in the direction of the + pantry and herself bustling away to fetch a loaf of bread. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are. But I was so took aback at the master's appearance, Maria, + you could have knocked me down with a feather. I wonder if his young + lady's given him his congy?” he added reflectively. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Judson did not stay to discuss the question, but set about preparing + the sandwiches, and a few minutes later Judson carried into Trent's own + particular snuggery an attractive-looking little tray and placed it on a + table at his master's elbow. + </p> + <p> + The man had not been far out in his reckoning when he opined that his + master had walked “twenty miles or thereabouts.” When he had quitted Haven + Woods, Garth had started off, heedless of the direction he took, and, + since then, he had been tramping, almost blindly, up hill and down dale, + over hedges, through woods, along the shore, stumbling across the rocks, + anywhere, anywhere in the world to get away from the maddening, + devil-ridden thoughts which had pursued him since the brief meeting with a + woman whose hyacinth eyes recalled the immeasurable anguish of years ago + and threatened the joy which the future seemed to promise. + </p> + <p> + His face was haggard. Heavy lines had graved themselves about his mouth, + and beneath drawn brows his eyes glowed like sombre fires. + </p> + <p> + Judson paused irresolutely beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I pour you out a whisky, sir?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + Trent started. He had been oblivious of the man's entrance. + </p> + <p> + “No. I'll do it myself—presently. Lock up and go to bed,” he + answered brusquely. + </p> + <p> + But Judson still hesitated. There was an expression of affectionate + solicitude on his usually wooden face. + </p> + <p> + “Better have one at once, sir,” he said persuasively. “And I think you'll + find the chicken sandwiches very good, sir, if you'll excuse my mentioning + it.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment a faint, kindly smile chased away the look of intense + weariness in Garth's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You transparent old fool, Judson!” he said indulgently. “You're like an + old hen clucking round. Very well, make me a whisky, if you will, and give + me one of those superlative sandwiches.” + </p> + <p> + Judson waited on him contentedly. + </p> + <p> + “Anything more to-night, sir? Shall I close the window?” with a gesture + towards the wide-open window near which his master sat. + </p> + <p> + Garth shook his head, and, when at last the manservant had reluctantly + taken his departure, he remained for a long time sitting very still, + staring out across the moon-washed garden. + </p> + <p> + Presently he stirred restlessly. Glancing round the room, his eyes fell on + his violin, lying upon the table with the bow beside it just as he had + laid it down that morning after he had been improvising, in a fit of mad + spirits, some variations on the theme of Mendelssohn's Wedding March. + </p> + <p> + He took up the instrument and struck a few desultory chords. Then, tucking + it more closely beneath his chin, he began to play—a broken, fitful + melody of haunting sadness, tormented by despairing chords, swept hither + and thither by rushing minor cadences—the very spirit of pain + itself, wandering, ghost-like, in desert places. + </p> + <p> + Upstairs Judson turned heavily in his bed. + </p> + <p> + “Just hark to 'im, Maria,” he muttered uneasily. “He fair makes my flesh + creep with that doggoned fiddle of his. 'Tis like a child crying in the + dark. I wish he'd stop.” + </p> + <p> + But the sad strains still went on, rising and falling, while Garth paced + back and forth the length of the room and the candles flickered palely in + the moonlight that poured in through the open window. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, across the lawn a figure flitted, noiseless as a shadow. It + paused once, as though listening, then glided forward again, slowly + drawing nearer and nearer until at last it halted on the threshold of the + room. + </p> + <p> + Garth, for the moment standing with his back towards the window, continued + playing, oblivious of the quiet listener. Then, all at once, the feeling + that he was no longer alone, that some one was sharing with him the + solitude of the night, invaded his consciousness. He turned swiftly, and + as his glance fell upon the silent figure standing at the open window, he + slowly drew his violin from beneath his chin and remained staring at the + apparition as though transfixed. + </p> + <p> + It was a woman who had thus intruded on his privacy. A scarf of black lace + was twisted, hood-like, about her head, and beneath its fragile drapery + was revealed the beautiful face and haunting, mysterious eyes of Elisabeth + Durward. She had flung a long black cloak over her evening gown, and where + it had fallen a little open at the throat her neck gleamed privet-white + against its shadowy darkness. + </p> + <p> + The mystical, transfiguring touch of the moon's soft light had eliminated + all signs of maturity, investing her with an amazing look of youth, so + that for an instant it seemed to Trent as though the years had rolled back + and Elisabeth Eden, in all the incomparable beauty of her girlhood, stood + before him. + </p> + <p> + He gazed at her in utter silence, and the brooding eyes returned his gaze + unflinchingly. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” + </p> + <p> + The words burst from him at last in a low, tense whisper, and, as if the + sound broke some spell that had been holding both the man and woman + motionless, Elisabeth stepped across the threshold and came towards him. + </p> + <p> + Trent made a swift gesture—almost, it seemed, a gesture of aversion. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you come here?” he demanded hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + She drew a little nearer, then paused, her hand resting on the table, and + looked at him with a strange, questioning expression in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “This is a poor welcome, Maurice,” she observed at last. + </p> + <p> + He winced sharply at the sound of the name by which she had addressed him, + then, recovering himself, faced her with apparent composure. + </p> + <p> + “I have no welcome for you,” he said in measured tones. “Why should I + have? All that was between us two . . . ended . . . half a life-time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she cried out. “No! Not all! There is still my son's happiness to be + reckoned.” + </p> + <p> + “Your son's happiness?” He stared at her amazedly. “What has your son's + happiness to do with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything!” she answered. “Everything! Sara Tennant is the woman he + loves.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you come here to blame me for the fact that she does not return + his love?”—with an accent of ironical amusement. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't blame you. But if it had not been for you she would have + married him. They were engaged, and then”—her voice shook a little—“you + came! You came—and robbed Tim of his happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Trent smiled sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “An instance of the grinding of the mills of God,” he said lightly. “You + robbed me—you'll agree?—of something I valued. And now—inadvertently—I + have robbed you in return of your son's happiness. It appears”—consideringly—“an + unusually just dispensation of Providence. And the sins of the parents are + visited on the child, as is the usual inscrutable custom of such + dispensations.” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth seemed to disregard the bitter gibe his speech contained. She + looked at him with steady eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I want you—out of the way,” she said deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” The indifferent, drawling tone was contradicted by the sudden + dangerous light that gleamed in the hazel eyes. “You mean you want me—to + pay—once more?” + </p> + <p> + She looked away uneasily, flushing a little. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it does amount to that,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “And how would you suggest it should be done?” he inquired composedly. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes came back to his face. There was an eager light in them, and when + she spoke the words hurried from her lips in imperative demand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it would be so easy, Maurice! You have only to convince Sara that you + are not fit to marry her—or any woman, for that matter! Tell her + what your reputation is—tell her why you can never show yourself + amongst your fellow men, why you live here under an assumed name. She + won't want to marry you when she knows these things, and Tim would have + his chance to win her back again.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—let me quite understand you, Elisabeth”—Trent spoke + with curious precision—“that I am to blacken myself in Sara's eyes, + so that, discovering what a wolf in sheep's clothing I am, she will break + off our engagement. That, I take it, is your suggestion?” + </p> + <p> + Beneath his searching glance she faltered a moment. Then— + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered boldly. “That is it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a charming programme,” he commented. “But it doesn't seem to me that + you have considered Sara at all in the matter. It will hardly add to her + happiness to find that she has given her heart to—what shall we + say?”—smiling disagreeably—“to the wrong kind of man?” + </p> + <p> + “Of, of course, she will be upset, <i>disillusionnee</i>, for a time. She + will suffer. But then we all have our share of suffering. Sara cannot hope + to be exempt. And afterwards—afterwards”—her eyes shining—“she + will be happy. She and Tim will be happy together.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you are prepared to cause all this suffering, Sara's and mine—though + I suppose”—with a bitter inflection—“that last hardly counts + with you!—in order to secure Tim's happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” significantly, “I am prepared—to do anything to secure that.” + </p> + <p> + Trent stared at her in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Have you <i>no</i> conscience?” he asked at last. “Have you never had + any?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a little piteously. + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand,” she muttered. “You don't understand. I'm his + mother. And I want him to be happy.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “that I cannot help you. But I'm afraid Tim's + happiness isn't going to be purchased at my expense. I haven't the least + intention of blackening myself in the eyes of the woman I love for the + sake of Tim—or of twenty Tims. Please understand that, once and for + all.” + </p> + <p> + He gestured as though to indicated that she should precede him to the + window by which she had entered. But she made no movement to go. Instead + she flung back her cloak as though it were stifling her, and caught him + impetuously by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice! Maurice! For God's sake, listen to me!” Her voice was suddenly + shaken with passionate entreaty. “Use some other method, then! Break with + her some other way! If you only knew how I hate to ask you this—I + who have already brought only sorrow and trouble into your life! But Tim—my + son—he must come first!” She pressed a little closer to him, lifting + her face imploringly. “Maurice, you loved me once—for the sake of + that love, grant me my boy's happiness!” + </p> + <p> + Quietly, inexorably, he disengaged himself from the eager clasp of her + hand. Her beautiful, agonized face, the vehement supplication of her + voice, moved him not a jot. + </p> + <p> + “You are making a poor argument,” he said coldly. “You are making your + request in the name of a love that died three-and-twenty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean”—she stared at him—“that you have not cared—at + all—since?” She spoke incredulously. Then, suddenly, she laughed. + “And I—what a fool I was!—I used to grieve—often—thinking + how you must be suffering!” + </p> + <p> + He smiled wryly as at some bitter memory. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I did,” he responded shortly. “Death has its pains—even the + death of first love. My love for you died hard, Elisabeth—but it + died. You killed it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will not do what I ask for the sake of the love you—once—gave + me?” There was a desperate appeal in her low voice. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I will not.” + </p> + <p> + She made a gesture of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Then you drive me into doing what I hate to do!” she exclaimed fiercely. + She was silent for a moment, standing with bowed head, her mouth working + painfully. Then, drawing herself up, she faced him again. There was + something in the lithe, swift movement that recalled a panther gathering + itself together for its spring. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she said. “If you will not find some means of breaking off your + engagement with Sara, then I shall tell her the whole story—tell her + what manner of man it is she proposes to make her husband!” + </p> + <p> + There was a supreme challenge in her tones, and she waited for his answer + defiantly—her head flung back, her whole body braced, as it were, to + resistance. + </p> + <p> + In the silence that followed, Trent drew away from her—slowly, + repugnantly, as though from something monstrous and unclean. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't—you <i>couldn't</i> do such a thing!” he exclaimed in + low, appalled tones of unbelief. + </p> + <p> + “I could!” she asserted, though her face whitened and her eyes flinched + beneath his contemptuous gaze. + </p> + <p> + “But it would be a vile thing to do,” he pursued, still with that accent + of incredulous abhorrence. “Doubly vile for <i>you</i> to do this thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I don't know that—don't realize it?” she answered + desperately. “You can say nothing that could make me think it worse than I + do already. It would be the basest action of which any woman could be + guilty. I recognize that. And yet”—she thrust her face, pinched and + strained-looking, into his—“<i>and yet I shall do it</i>. I'd take + that sin—or any other—on my conscience for the sake of Tim.” + </p> + <p> + Trent turned away from her with a gesture of defeat, and for a moment or + two he paced silently backwards and forwards, while she watched him with + burning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize what it means?” she went on urgently. “You have no way + out. You can't deny the truth of what I have to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he acknowledged harshly. “As you say, I cannot deny it. No one knows + that better than yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he turned to her, and his face was that of a man in uttermost + anguish of soul. Beads of moisture rimmed his drawn mouth, and when he + spoke his voice was husky and uneven. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I suffered enough—paid enough?” he burst out passionately. + “You've had your pound of flesh. For God's sake, be satisfied with that! + Leave—Garth Trent—to build up what is left of his life in + peace!” + </p> + <p> + The roughened, tortured tones seemed to unnerve her. For a moment she hid + her face in her hands, shuddering, and when she raised it again the tears + were running down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I can't—I can't!” she whispered brokenly. “I wish I could . . . you + were good to me once. Oh! Maurice, I'm not a bad woman, not a wicked woman + . . . but I've my son to think of . . . his happiness.” She paused, + mastering, with an effort, the emotion that threatened to engulf her. + “Nothing else counts—<i>nothing</i>! If you go to the wall, Tim + wins.” + </p> + <p> + “So I'm to pay—first for your happiness, and now, more than twenty + years later, for your son's. You don't ask—very much—of a man, + Elisabeth.” + </p> + <p> + He had himself in hand now. The momentary weakness which had wrenched that + brief, anguished appeal from his lips was past, and the dry scorn of his + voice cut like a lash, stinging her into hostility once more. + </p> + <p> + “I have given you the chance to break with Sara yourself—on any + pretext you choose to invent,” she said hardly. “You've refused—” + She hesitated. “You do—still refuse, Maurice?” Again the note of + pleading, of appeal in her voice. It was as though she begged of him to + spare them both the consequences of that refusal. + </p> + <p> + He bowed. “Absolutely.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Then I must take the only other way that remains. You know what that will + be.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped, and, picking up her cloak which had fallen to the floor, held + it for her to put on. He had completely regained his customary + indifference of manner. + </p> + <p> + “I think we need not prolong this interview, then,” he said composedly. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth drew the cloak around her and moved slowly towards the window. + Outside, the tranquil moonlight still flooded the garden, the peaceful + quiet of the night remained all undisturbed by the fierce conflict of + human wills and passions that had spent itself so uselessly. + </p> + <p> + “One thing more”—she paused on the threshold as Trent spoke again—“You + will not blacken the name of—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>No</i>!” It was as though she had struck the unuttered word from his + lips. “Did you think I should? Those who bear it have suffered enough. + There's no need to drag it through the mire a second time.” + </p> + <p> + With a quick movement she drew her cloak more closely about her, and + stepped out into the garden. For a moment Garth watched her crossing the + lawns, a slender, upright, swiftly moving shadow. Then a clump of bushes, + thrusting its wall of darkness into the silver sea of moonlight, hid her + from his sight, and he turned back into the room. Stumblingly he made his + way to the chimney-piece, and, resting his arms upon it, hid his face. + </p> + <p> + For a long time he remained thus, motionless, while the grandfather clock + in the corner ticked away indifferently, and one by one the candles + guttered down and went out in little pools of grease. + </p> + <p> + When at last he raised his face, it looked almost ghastly in the + moonlight, so lined and haggard was it, and its sternly set expression was + that of a man who had schooled himself to endure the supreme ill that + destiny may hold in store. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <h3> + J'ACCUSE! + </h3> + <p> + “Of course, there could be but one ending to it all. The man to whom you + have promised yourself—Garth Trent—was court-martialled and + cashiered.” + </p> + <p> + As she finished speaking, Elisabeth's hands, which had been tightly locked + together upon her knee, relaxed and fell stiffly apart, cramped with the + intensity of their convulsive pressure. + </p> + <p> + Sara sat silent, staring with unseeing eyes across the familiar bay to + that house on the cliff where lived the man whose past history—that + history he had guarded so strenuously and completely from the ears of + their little world—had just been revealed to her. + </p> + <p> + Mentally she was envisioning the whole scene of the story which + hesitatingly—almost unwilling, it seemed—Elisabeth had poured + out. She could see the lonely fort on the Indian Frontier, sparsely held + by its indomitable little band of British soldiers, and ringed about on + every side by the hill tribes who had so suddenly and unexpectedly risen + in open rebellion. In imagination she could sense the hideous tension as + day succeeded day and each dawning brought no sign of the longed-for + relief forces. Indeed, it was not even known if the messengers sent by the + officer in command had got safely through to the distant garrison to + deliver his urgent message asking succour. And each evening found those + who were besieged within the fort with diminished rations, and diminished + hope, and with one or more dead to mark the enemy's unceasing vigilance. + </p> + <p> + And then had come the mysterious apparent withdrawal of the tribesmen. For + hours no sign of the enemy had been seen, nor a single fugitive shot fired + when one or other of the besieged had risked themselves at an unguarded + aperture, whereas, until that morning, for a man to show himself, even for + a moment, had been to court almost certain death. + </p> + <p> + Could the rebels have received word of the approach of a relieving force, + whispers of a punitive expedition on its way, and so stolen stealthily, + discreetly away in the silence of the night? + </p> + <p> + The hearts of the little beleaguered force rose high with hope, but again + morning drew to evening without bringing sight or sound of succour. Only + the enemy persisted in that strange, unbroken silence, and, at last, a + hasty council of war was held within the fort, and Garth Trent, together + with a handful of men, had been detailed to make a reconnaissance. + </p> + <p> + Sara could picture the little party stealing out on their dangerous errand—dangerous, + indeed, if the withdrawal of the tribesmen were but a bluff, a scheme + devised to lull the besieged into a false sense of security in order to + attack them later at a greater disadvantage. And then—the sudden + spit of a rifle, a ringing fusillade of shots in the dense darkness! The + reconnaissance party had run into an ambuscade! + </p> + <p> + Sara could guess well the frayed nerves, the low vitality of men who were + short of food, short of sleep, and worn with incessant watching night and + day. But—Could it be possible that Englishmen had flinched at the + crucial moment—lost their nerve and fled in wild disorder? + Englishmen—who held the sacred trust of empire in their hands—to + show the white feather to a horde of rebel natives! It was inconceivable! + Sara, reared in the great tradition by that gallant gentleman, Patrick + Lovell, refused to credit it. + </p> + <p> + She drew a long, shuddering breath. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth looked at her with a pitying comprehension of the blow she had + just dealt her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” she said gently, almost deprecatingly, “that there is no + questioning the finding of the court-martial. Garth must have lost his + head at the unexpectedness of the attack. And panic is a curious, + unaccountable kind of thing, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it,” reiterated Sara stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth bent forward. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, “there is no possibility of doubt. Garth was wounded; + they brought him in afterwards—<i>shot in the back</i>! . . . Oh! It + was all a horrible business! And the most wretched part of it all was that + in reality they were only a few stray tribesmen whom our men had + encountered. Perhaps Garth thought they were outnumbered—I don't + know. But anyway, coming on the top of all that had gone before, the + surprise attack in the darkness broke his nerve completely. He didn't even + attempt to make a stand. He simply gave way. What followed was just a + headlong scramble as to who could save his skin first! I shall never + forget Garth's return after—after the court-martial.” She shuddered + a little at the memory. “I—I was engaged to him at the time, Sara, + and I had no choice but to break it off. Garth was cashiered—disgraced—done + for.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's drooping figure suddenly straightened. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You—you</i>—were engaged to Garth?” she said in a queer, + high voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes”—simply. “I had promised to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + Sara was silent for a long moment. Then— + </p> + <p> + “He never told me,” she muttered. “He never told me.” + </p> + <p> + “No? It was hardly likely he would, was it? He couldn't tell you that + without telling you—the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Sara made no answer. She felt stunned—beaten into helpless silence + by the quiet, inexorable voice that, bit by bit, minute by minute, had + drawn aside the veil of ignorance and revealed the dry bones and + rottenness that lay hidden behind it. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it!” she had cried in a futile effort to convince herself + by the sheer reiteration of denial. But she <i>did</i> believe it, + nevertheless. The whole miserable story tallied too accurately with the + bitterly significant remarks that Garth himself had let fall from time to + time. + </p> + <p> + That day of the dog-fight, for instance. What was it he had said? “<i>A + certain amount of allowance must be made for nerves</i>.” + </p> + <p> + And again: “<i>I suppose no man can be dead sure of himself—always</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The implication was too horribly clear to be evaded. + </p> + <p> + He had told her, moreover, that he was a man who had made a shipwreck of + his life, that in a moment of folly—a moment of funk she knew now to + be the veridical description!—he had flung away the whole chances of + his life. The man whom she had loved, and, in her love, idealized, had + proved himself, when the test came, that most despicable of things, a + coward! The pain of realization was almost unbearable. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, across the utter desolation of the moment there shot a single + ray of hope. She turned triumphantly to Elisabeth. + </p> + <p> + “But if it were true that Garth—had shown cowardice, why was he not + shot? They shoot men for cowardice”—grimly. + </p> + <p> + “There are many excuses to be made for him, Sara,” replied Elisabeth + gently. + </p> + <p> + “Excuses! For cowardice!” The low-spoken words were icy with a biting + contempt. “I'm afraid I could not find them.” + </p> + <p> + “The court-martial did, nevertheless. At the trial, the 'prisoner's + friend'—in this instance, Garth's colonel, who was very fond of him + and had always thought very highly of him—pleaded extenuating + circumstances. Garth's youth, his previous good record, the conditions of + the moment—the continuous mental and physical strain of the days + preceding his sudden loss of nerve—all these things were urged by + the 'prisoner's friend,' and the sentence was commuted to one of + cashiering.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been better if he had been shot,” said Sara dully. Then + suddenly she clapped both hands to her mouth. “Ah—h! What am I + saying? Garth! . . . Garth! . . .” + </p> + <p> + She stumbled to her feet, her white, ravaged face turned for a moment + yearningly towards Far End, where it stood bathed in the mocking morning + sunlight. Then she spun half-round, groping for support, and fell in a + crumpled heap on the floor. + </p> + <p> + When Sara came to herself again, she was lying on the bed in Elisabeth's + room at the hotel. Some one had drawn the blinds, shutting out the crude + glare of the sunlight, and in the semi-darkness she could feel soft hands + about her, bathing her face with something fragrantly cool and refreshing. + She opened her eyes and looked up to find Elisabeth's face bent over her—unspeakably + kind and tender, like that of some Madonna brooding above her child. + </p> + <p> + “Are you feeling better?” The sweet, familiar voice roused her to the + realization of what had happened. It was the same voice that, before + unconsciousness had wrapped her in its merciful oblivion, had been pouring + into her ears an unbelievably hideous story—a nightmare tale of what + had happened at some far distant Indian outpost. + </p> + <p> + The details of the story seemed to be all jumbled confusedly together in + Sara's mind, but, as gradually full consciousness returned, they began to + sort themselves and fall into their rightful places, and all at once, with + a swift and horrible contraction of her heart, the truth knocked at the + door of memory. + </p> + <p> + She struggled up on to her elbow, her eyes frantically appealing. + </p> + <p> + “Elisabeth, was it true? Was it—all true?” + </p> + <p> + In an instant Elisabeth's hand closed round hers. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you must try and face it. And”—her voice shook a little—“you + must try and forgive me for telling you. But I couldn't let you marry + Garth Trent in ignorance, could I?” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is true? Garth was court-martialled and—and cashiered?” + Sara sank back against her pillows. Still, deep within her, there + flickered a faint spark of hope. Against all reason, against all common + sense the faith that was within her fought against accepting the bitter + knowledge that Garth was guilty of what was in her eyes the one + unpardonable sin. + </p> + <p> + Unpardonable! The word started a new and overwhelming train of thought. + She remembered that she had told Garth she did not care what sin he had + been guilty of, had forced him to believe that nothing could make any + difference to her love for him, to her willingness to become his wife, and + share his burden. Yet now, now that the hidden thing in his life had been + revealed to her, she found herself shrinking from it in utter loathing! + Her promises of faith and loyalty were already crumbling under the strain + of her knowledge of the truth. + </p> + <p> + She flinched from the recognition of the fact, seeking miserably to + palliate and excuse it. When she had given Garth that impetuous assurance + of her confidence, she had not, in her crudest imaginings, dreamed of + anything so hideous and ignoble as the actual truth had proved to be. + Vaguely, she had deemed him outcast for some big, reckless sin that by the + splendour of its recklessness almost earned its own forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + And instead—<i>this</i>! This drab-hued, pitiful weakness for which + she could find no pardon in her heart. + </p> + <p> + Through the turmoil of her thoughts she became conscious that Elisabeth + was stooping over her, answering her wild incredulous questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is true,” she was saying steadily. “He was court-martialled and + cashiered. But, if you still doubt it, ask him yourself, Sara.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's hands clenched themselves. Her eyes were feverishly brilliant in + her white, shrunken face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll ask him myself.” She panted a little. “You must be wrong—there + must be some horrible mistake somewhere. I've been mad—mad to + believe it for a single moment.” She slipped from the bed to her feet, and + stood confronting Elisabeth with a kind of desperate defiance. “Do you + hear what I say?” she said loudly. “I don't believe it. I will never + believe it till Garth himself tells me that it is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear”—Elisabeth shrank away a little, but her eyes were kind + and infinitely pitying. Sara felt frightened of the pitying kindness in + those eyes—its rejection of Garth's innocence was so much stronger + than any asseveration of mere words. Vaguely she heard Elisabeth's patient + voice: “I think you are right. Ask him yourself—but, Sara, he will + not be able to deny it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + RED RUIN + </h3> + <p> + “You sent for me, and I am here.” + </p> + <p> + The brusque, curt speech sounded a knell to the faint hope which Sara had + been tending whilst she waited for Garth's coming. His voice, the dogged + expression of his face, the chill, brief manner, each held its grievous + message for the woman who had learned to recognize the signs of mental + stress in the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I sent for you,” she said. “I—I—Garth, I have seen + Elisabeth.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Just the one brief monosyllable in response, uttered with a + slightly questioning inflection. Nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Sara twisted her hands together. There was something unapproachable about + Garth as he stood there—quiet, inflexible, waiting to hear what she + had to say to him. + </p> + <p> + With an effort she began again. + </p> + <p> + “She has told me of something—something that happened to you, in the + past.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? Quite a great deal happened—in my past. What was it, in + particular, that she told you?” + </p> + <p> + The mocking quality in his tones stung her into open accusation. + </p> + <p> + “She told me that you had been court-martialled and cashiered from the + Army—for cowardice.” The words came slowly, succinctly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—h!” He drew his breath sharply, and a grey shadow seemed to + spread itself over his face. + </p> + <p> + Sara waited—waited with an intensity of longing that was well-nigh + unendurable—for either the indignant denial or the easy, mirthful + scorn wherewith an innocent man might be expected to answer such a charge. + </p> + <p> + But there came neither of these. Only silence—an endless, agonizing + silence, while Garth stood utterly motionless, looking at her, his face + slowly greying. + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to interpret the expression of his eyes. There was + neither anger, nor horror, nor pleading in their cool indomitable stare, + but only a hard, bright impenetrability, shuttering the soul behind it + from the aching gaze of the woman who waited. + </p> + <p> + In that silence, Sara's flickering hope that the accusation might prove + false went out in blinding darkness. She <i>knew</i>, now—knew it as + certainly as though Garth had answered her—that he was unable to + deny it. Still, she would brace herself to hear it—to endure the + ultimate anguish of words. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” she questioned him. “Is it true that you were—cashiered + for cowardice?” + </p> + <p> + At last he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “It is true.” His voice was altogether passionless, but + something had come into his face, into his whole attitude, which denied + the calm passivity of his reply. The soul of the man—a soul in + ineffable extremity of suffering—was struggling for expression, + striving against the rigid bonds of the motionless body in which his iron + will constrained it. + </p> + <p> + Sara could sense it—a tormented flame shut in a casing of steel—and + she was swept by a torrent of uttermost pity and compassion. + </p> + <p> + “Garth! Garth! But there must have been some explanation! . . . You + weren't in your right senses at the moment. Ah! Tell me——” She + broke off, her voice failing her, her arms outflung in a passion of + entreaty. + </p> + <p> + As she leaned towards him, a tremor seemed to run through his entire body—the + tremor of leaping muscles straining against the leash. His hands clenched + slowly, the nails biting into the bruised flesh. Then he spoke, and his + voice was ringing and assured—arrogantly so. The tortured soul + within him had been beaten back once more into its prison-house. + </p> + <p> + “I was quite in my right senses—that night on the Frontier—never + more so, believe me”—and his lips twisted in a curious, enigmatical + smile. “And as far as explanations—excuses—are concerned, the + court-martial made all that were possible. I—I was not shot, you + see!” + </p> + <p> + There was something outrageous in the open derision of the last words. He + flung them at her—as though taunting, gibing at the impulse to + compassion which had swayed her, sending her tremulously towards him with + imploring, outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + “The quality of mercy was not strained in the least,” he continued. “It + fell around me like the proverbial gentle rain. I've quite a lot to be + thankful for, don't you think?”—brutally. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know what to think!” she burst out. “That you—<i>you</i> + should fall so low—so shamefully low.” + </p> + <p> + “A man will do a good deal to preserve a whole skin, you know,” he + suggested hardily. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you speak like that?” she demanded in sharpened tones. “Do you + want me to think worse of you than I do already?” + </p> + <p> + He took a step towards her and stood looking down at her with those + bright, hard eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” he said decidedly. “I want you to think as badly of me as you + possibly can. I want you to realize just what sort of a blackguard you had + promised to marry, and when you've got that really clear in your mind, + you'll be able to forget all about me and marry some cheerful young fool + who hasn't been kicked out of the Army.” + </p> + <p> + “As long as I live I shall never—be able—to forget that I + loved—a coward.” The words came haltingly from her lips. Then + suddenly her shaking hands went up to her face, as though to shut him from + her sight, and a dry, choking sob tore its way through her throat. + </p> + <p> + He made a swift stride towards her, then checked himself and stood + motionless once more, in the utter quiescence of deliberately arrested + movement. Only his hands, hanging stiffly at his sides, opened and shut + convulsively, and his eyes should have been hidden. God never meant any + man's eyes to wear that look of unspeakable torment. + </p> + <p> + When at last Sara withdrew her hands and looked at him again, his face was + set like a mask, the lips drawn back a little from the teeth in a way that + suggested a dumb animal in pain. But she was so hurt herself that she + failed to recognize his infinitely greater hurt. + </p> + <p> + “I think—I think I hate you,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + His taut muscles seemed to relax. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you do,” he said steadily. “It will be better so.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the quiet acceptance of his tone moved her to a softer, more + wistful emotion. + </p> + <p> + “If it had been anything—anything but that, Garth, I think I could + have borne it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a depth of appeal in the low-spoken words. But he ignored it, + opposing a reckless indifference to her softened mood. + </p> + <p> + “Then it's just as well it wasn't 'anything but that.' Otherwise”—sardonically—“you + might have felt constrained to abide by your rash promise to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes flashed over her face, mocking, deriding. He had struck where she + was most vulnerable, accusing where her innate honesty of soul admitted + she had no defence, and she winced away from the speech almost as though + it had been a blow upon her body. + </p> + <p> + It was true she had given her promise blindly, in ignorance of the facts, + but that could not absolve her. It was not Garth who had forced the + promise from her. It was she who had impetuously offered it, never + conceiving such a possibility as that he might be guilty of the one sin + for which, in her eyes, there could be no palliation. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said unevenly. “I know. You have the right to remind me of + my promise. I—I blame myself. It's horrible—to break one's + word.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent a moment, standing with bent head, her instinct to be fair, + to play the game, combating the revulsion of feeling with which the + knowledge of Garth's act of cowardice had filled her. When she looked up + again there was a curious intensity in her expression, wanly decisive. + </p> + <p> + “Marriage for us—now—could never mean anything but misery.” + The effort in her voice was palpable. It was as though she were forcing + herself to utter words from which her inmost being recoiled. “But I gave + you my promise, and if—if you choose to hold me to it—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't choose!” He broke in harshly. “You may spare yourself any anxiety + on that score. You are free—as free as though we had never met. I'm + quite ready to bow to your decision that I'm not fit to marry you.” + </p> + <p> + A little caught breath of unutterable relief fluttered between her lips. + If he heard it, he made no sign. + </p> + <p> + “And now”—he turned as though to leave her—“I think that's all + that need be said between us.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not all”—in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “What? Is there more still?” Again his voice held an insolent irony that + lashed her like a whip. “Haven't you yet plumbed the full depths of my + iniquity?” + </p> + <p> + “No. There is still one further thing. You said you loved me?” + </p> + <p> + “I did—I do still, if such as I may aspire to so lofty an emotion.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a lie. Even”—her voice broke—“even in that you + deceived me.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed as though the tremulously uttered words pierced through his + armour of sneering cynicism. + </p> + <p> + “No, in that, at least, I was honest with you.” The bitter note of mockery + that had rung through all his former speech was suddenly absent—muted, + crushed out, and the quiet, steadfast utterance carried conviction even in + Sara's reeling faith, shaking her to the very soul. + </p> + <p> + “But . . . Elisabeth? . . . You loved her once. And love—can't die, + Garth.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said gravely. “Love can't die. But what I felt for Elisabeth was + not love—not love as you and I understand it. It was the mad passion + of a boy for an extraordinarily beautiful woman. She was an ideal—I + invested her with all the qualities and spiritual graces that her beauty + seemed to promise. But the Elisabeth I loved—didn't exist.” He drew + nearer her and, laying his hands on her shoulders, looked down at her with + eyes that seemed to burn their way into the inmost depths of her being. + “Whatever you may think of me, however low I may have fallen in your + sight, believe me in this—that I have loved you and shall always + love you, utterly and entirely, with my whole soul and body. It has not + been an easy love—I fought against it with all my strength, knowing + that it could only carry pain and suffering in its train for both of us. + But it conquered me. And when you came to me that day, so courageously, + holding out your hands, claiming the love that was unalterably yours—when + you came to me like that, a little hurt and wounded because I had been so + slow to speak my love—I yielded! Before God, Sara! I had been either + more or less than a man had I resisted!” + </p> + <p> + The grip of his hands upon her shoulders tightened until it was actual + pain, and she winced under it, shrinking away from him. He released her + instantly, and she stood silently beside him, battling against the longing + to respond to that deep, abiding love which neither now, nor ever again in + life, would she be able to doubt. + </p> + <p> + That Garth loved her, wholly and completely, was an incontrovertible fact. + She no longer felt the least lingering mistrust, nor even any prick of + jealousy that he had once loved before. That boyish passion of the senses + for Elisabeth was not comparable with this love which was the maturer + growth of his manhood—a love that could only know fulfillment in the + mystic union of body, soul, and spirit. + </p> + <p> + But this merely served to deepen the poignancy of the impending parting—for + that she and Garth must part she recognized as inevitable. + </p> + <p> + Loving each other as men and women love but once in a lifetime, their love + was destined to be for ever unconsummated. They were as irrevocably + divided as though the seas of the entire world ran between them. + </p> + <p> + Wearily, in the flat, level tones of one who realizes that all hope is at + an end, she stumbled through the few broken phrases which cancelled the + whole happiness of life. + </p> + <p> + “It all seems so useless, doesn't it—your love and mine? . . . + You've killed something that I felt for you—I don't quite know what + to call it—respect, I suppose, only that sounds silly, because it + was much more than that. I wish—I wish I didn't love you still. But + perhaps that, too, will die in time. You see, you're not the man I thought + I cared for. You're—you're something I'm <i>ashamed</i> to love—” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough!” he interrupted unsteadily. “Leave it at that. You won't + beat it if you try till doomsday.” + </p> + <p> + The pain in his voice pierced her to the heart, and she made an impulsive + step towards him, shocked into quick remorse. + </p> + <p> + “Garth . . . I didn't mean it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, you meant it,” he said. “Don't imagine that I'm blaming you. I'm + not. You've found me out, that's all. And having discovered exactly how + contemptible a person I am, you—very properly—send me away.” + </p> + <p> + He turned on his heel, giving her no time to reply, and a moment later she + was alone. Then came the clang of the house door as it closed behind him. + To Sara, it sounded like the closing of a door between two worlds—between + the glowing past and the grey and empty future. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <h3> + DIVERS OPINIONS + </h3> + <p> + The consternation created at Sunnyside by the breaking off of Sara's + engagement had spent itself at last. Selwyn had said but little, only his + saint's eyes held the wondering, hurt look that the inexplicable sins of + humanity always had the power to bring into them. Characteristically, he + hated the sin but overflowed in sympathy for the sinner. + </p> + <p> + “Poor devil!” he said, when the whole story of Trent's transgression and + its consequences had been revealed to him. “What a ghastly stone to hang + round a man's neck for the term of his natural life! If they'd shot him, + it would have been more merciful! That would at least have limited the + suffering,” he went on, taking Sara's hand and holding it in his strong, + kindly one a moment. “Poor little comrade! Oh, my dear”—as she + shrank instinctively—“I'm not going to talk about it—I know + you'd rather not. Condolence platitudes were never in my line. But my + pal's troubles are mine—just as she once made mine hers.” + </p> + <p> + Jane Crab's opinions were enunciated without fear or favour, and, in + defiance of public opinion, she took her stand on the side of the sinner + and maintained it unwaveringly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Sara,” she affirmed, “unless you've proof as strong as 'Oly + Writ, as they say, I'd believe naught against Mr. Trent. Bluff and 'ard he + may be in 'is manner, but after the way he conducted himself the night + Miss Molly ran away, I'll never think no ill of 'im, not if it was ever + so!” + </p> + <p> + Sara smiled drearily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could feel as you do, Jane dear. But—Mrs. Durward <i>knows</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Durward! Huh! One of them tigris women I calls 'er,” retorted Jane, + who had formed her opinion with lightning rapidity when Elisabeth made a + farewell visit to Sunnyside before leaving Monkshaven. “Not but what you + can't help liking her, neither,” went on Jane judicially. “There's + something good in the woman, for all she looks at you like a cat who + thinks you're after stealing her kittens. But there! As the doctor—bless + the man!—always says, there's good in everybody if so be you'll look + for it. Only I'd as lief think that Mrs. Durward was somehow scared-like—too + almighty scared to be her natchral self, savin' now and again when she + forgets.” + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Selwyn, the breaking off of Sara's engagement, and the manner of + it, signified very little. She watched the panorama of other people's + lives unfold with considerably less sympathetic concern than that with + which one follows the ups and downs that befall the characters in a cinema + drama, since they were altogether outside the radius of that central topic + of unfailing interest—herself. + </p> + <p> + The only way in which recent events impinged upon her life was in so far + as the rupture of Sara's engagement would probably mean the indefinite + prolongation of her stay at Sunnyside, which would otherwise have ended + with her marriage. And this, from Mrs. Selwyn's egotistical point of view, + was all to the good, since Sara had acquired a pleasant habit of making + herself both useful and entertaining to the invalid. + </p> + <p> + Molly's emotions carried her to the other extreme of the compass. Since + the night when she had realized that she had narrowly missed making entire + shipwreck of her life, thanks to the evil genius of Lester Kent, her + character seemed to have undergone a change—to have deepened and + expanded. She was no longer so buoyantly superficial in her envisagement + of life, and the big things reacted on her in a way which would previously + have been impossible. Formerly, their significance would have passed her + by, and she would have floated airily along, unconscious of their piercing + reality. + </p> + <p> + Side by side with this increase of vision, there had developed a very deep + and sincere affection for both Garth and Sara based, probably, in its + inception, on her realization that whatever of good, whatever of + happiness, life might hold for her, she would owe it fundamentally to the + two who had so determinedly kept her heedless feet from straying into that + desert from which there is no returning to the pleasant paths of + righteousness. A censorious world sees carefully to that, for ever barring + out the sinner—of the weaker sex—from inheriting the earth. + </p> + <p> + So that to this new and awakened Molly the abrupt termination of Sara's + engagement came as something almost too overwhelming to be borne. She did + not see how Sara <i>could</i> bear it, and to her youthful mind, + mercifully unwitting that grief is one of the world's commonplaces, Sara + was henceforth haloed with sorrow, set specially apart by the tragic + circumstances which had enveloped her. Unconsciously she lowered her voice + when speaking to her, infusing a certain specific sympathy into every + small action she performed for her, shrank from troubling her in any way, + and altogether, in her youth and inexperience, behaved rather as though + she were in a house of mourning, where the candles yet burned in the + chamber of death and the blinds shut out the light of day. + </p> + <p> + At last Sara rebelled, although compassionately aware of Molly's excellent + intentions. + </p> + <p> + “Molly, my angel, if you persist in treating me as though I had just lost + the whole of my relatives in an earthquake or a wreck at sea, I shall + explode. I've had a bad knock, but I don't want it continually rubbing + into me. The world will go on—even although my engagement is broken + off. And <i>I'm</i> going on.” + </p> + <p> + It was bravely spoken, and though Sara was inwardly conscious that in the + last words the spirit, for the moment, outdistanced the flesh, it served + to dissipate the rather strained atmosphere which had prevailed at + Sunnyside since the rupture of her engagement had become common knowledge. + </p> + <p> + So, figuratively speaking, the blinds were drawn up and life resumed its + normal aspect once again. + </p> + <p> + It had fallen to the lot of Audrey Maynard to carry the ill-tidings to + Rose Cottage. Sara had asked her to acquaint their little circle with the + altered condition of affairs, and Audrey had readily undertaken to perform + this service, eager to do anything that might spare Sara some of the + inevitable pinpricks which attend even the big tragedies of life. + </p> + <p> + “The whole affair is incomprehensible to me,” said Audrey at last, as she + rose preparatory to taking her departure. There seemed no object in + lingering to discuss so painful a topic. “It's—oh! It's + heart-breaking.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Livinia departed hastily to do a little weep in the seclusion of her + room upstairs. She hardly concerned herself with the enormity of Garth's + offence. She was old, and she saw only romance shattered into fragments, + youth despoiled of its heritage, love crucified. Moreover, the Lavender + Lady had never been censorious. + </p> + <p> + “What is your opinion, Miles?” asked Audrey, when she had left the room. + </p> + <p> + Herrick had been rather silent, his brown eyes meditative. Now he looked + up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “About the funking part of it? As I wasn't on the spot when the affair + took place, I haven't the least right to venture an opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Audrey looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why not. You can't get behind the verdict of the + court-martial.” + </p> + <p> + “Trials have been known where justice went awry,” said Miles quietly. + “There was a trial where Pilate was judge.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say you doubt the verdict?”—eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I was not meaning quite that in this case. But, because the law says + a man is a blackguard, when I'd stake my life he's nothing of the kind, it + doesn't alter my opinion one hair's-breadth. The verdict may have been—probably, + almost certainly, <i>was</i>—the only verdict that could be given to + meet the facts of the case. But still, it is possible that it was not a + just verdict—labelling as a coward for all time a man who may have + had one bad moment when his nerves played him false. There are other men + who have had their moment of funk, but, as the matter never came under the + official eyes, they have made good since—ended up as V.C.'s, some of + 'em. Facts are often very foolish things, to my mind. Motives, and + circumstances, even conditions of physical health, are bound to play as + big a part as facts, if you're going to administer pure justice. But the + army can't consider the super-administration of justice”—smiling. + “Discipline must be maintained and examples made. Only—sometimes—it's + damn bad luck on the example.” + </p> + <p> + It was an unusually long speech for Miles to have been guilty of, and + Audrey stood looking at him in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Miles, you're rather a dear, you know. I believe you're almost as + strongly on Garth's side as Jane Crab.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Jane?” And Herrick smiled. “She's a good old sport then. Anyhow, I + don't propose to add my quota to the bill Trent's got to pay, poor devil!” + </p> + <p> + Audrey's face softened as she turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “One can't help feeling pitifully sorry for him,” she admitted. “To have + had Sara—and then to have lost her!” + </p> + <p> + There was a whimsical light in Herrick's eyes as he answered her. + </p> + <p> + “But, at least,” he said, “he <i>has</i> had her, if only for a few days.” + </p> + <p> + Audrey paused with her hand upon the latch of the door. + </p> + <p> + “I imagine Garth—asked for what he wanted!” she observed, and + vanished precipitately through the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Audrey!” Miles started up, but, by the time he reached the house door, + she was already disappearing through the gateway into the road and beyond + pursuit. + </p> + <p> + “She must have <i>run</i>!” he commented ruefully to himself as he + returned to the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + This discovery seemed to afford him food for reflection. For a long time + he sat very quietly in his chair, apparently arguing out with himself some + knotty point. + </p> + <p> + Nor had his thoughts, at the moment, any connection with the recent + discussion of Garth Trent's affairs. It was only after the Lavender Lady + had returned, a little pink about the eyelids, that the recollection of + the original object of Mrs. Maynard's visit recurred to him. + </p> + <p> + Simultaneously, his brows drew together in a sudden concentration of + thought, and an inarticulate exclamation escaped him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Livinia looked up from the delicate piece of cobwebby lace she was + finishing. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say, dear?” she asked absently. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say anything,” he smiled back at her. “I was thinking rather + hard, that's all, and just remembered something I had forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + The Lavender Lady looked a trifle mystified. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I quite understand, Miles dear.” + </p> + <p> + Herrick, on his way to the door, stooped to kiss her. + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I, Lavender Lady. That's just the devil of it,” he answered + cryptically. + </p> + <p> + He passed out of the room and upstairs, presently returning with a couple + of letters, held together by an elastic band, in his hand. + </p> + <p> + They smelt musty as he unfolded them; evidently they had not seen the + light of day for a good many years. But Miles seemed to find them of + extraordinary interest, for he subjected the closely written sheets to a + first, and second, and even a third perusal. Then he replaced the elastic + band round them and shut them away in a drawer, locking the latter + carefully. + </p> + <p> + A couple of days later, Garth Trent received a note from Herrick, asking + him to come and see him. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't been near us for days,” it ran. “Remember Mahomet and the + mountain, and as I can't come to you, look me up.” + </p> + <p> + The letter, in its quiet avoidance of any reference to recent events, was + like cooling rain falling upon a parched and thirsty earth. + </p> + <p> + Since the history of the court-martial had become common property, Garth + had been through hell. It was extraordinary how quickly the story had + leaked out, passing from mouth to mouth until there was hardly a cottage + in Monkshaven that was not in possession of it, with lurid and fictitious + detail added thereto. + </p> + <p> + The chambermaid at the Cliff Hotel had been the primary source of + information. From the further side of the connecting-door of an adjoining + room, she had listened with interest to the conversation which had taken + place between Elisabeth and Sara on the day following the Haven Woods + picnic, and had proceeded to circulate the news with the avidity of her + class. Nor had certain gossipy members of the picnic party refrained from + canvassing threadbare the significance of the unfortunate scene which had + taken place on that occasion—contributory evidence to the truth of + the chambermaid's account of what she had overheard. + </p> + <p> + The whole town hummed with the tale, and Garth had not long been allowed + to remain in ignorance of the fact. Anonymous letters reached him almost + daily—for it must be remembered that ten years of an aloof existence + at Monkshaven had not endeared him to his neighbours. They had resented + what they chose to consider his exclusiveness, and, now that it was so + humiliatingly explained, the meaner spirits amongst them took this way of + paying off old scores. + </p> + <p> + It was suggested by one of the anonymous writers that Trent's continued + presence in the district was felt to be a blot on the fair fame of + Monkshaven; and, by another, that should the rumours now flying hither and + thither concerning the imminence of a European war materialize into fact, + the French Foreign Legion offered opportunities for such as he. + </p> + <p> + Garth tore the letters into fragments, pitching them contemptuously into + the waste-paper basket; but, nevertheless, they were like so many gnats + buzzing about an open wound, adding to its torture. + </p> + <p> + Black Brady, with a lively recollection of the few days in gaol which + Trent had procured him in recompense for his poaching proclivities, was + loud in his denunciation. + </p> + <p> + “Retreated, they calls it,” he observed, with fine scorn. “Runned away's + the plain English of it.” + </p> + <p> + And with this pronouncement all the loafers round the hotel garage + cordially agreed, and, subsequently, black looks and muttered comments + followed Garth's appearance in the streets. + </p> + <p> + To all of which Garth opposed a stony indifference—since, after all, + these lesser things were of infinitely small moment to a man whose whole + life was lying in ruins about him. + </p> + <p> + “It was good of you to ask me over,” he told Herrick, as they shook hands. + “Sure you're not afraid of contamination?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure,” replied Miles, smiling serenely. “Besides, I had a + particular reason for wishing to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + Miles unlocked the drawer where he had laid aside the papers he had + perused with so much interest two days ago, and, slipping them out of the + elastic bands that held them, handed them to Trent. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like you to read those documents, if you will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence while Trent's eyes travelled swiftly down the + closely written sheets. When he looked up from their perusal his + expression was perfectly blank. Miles could glean nothing from it. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said tentatively. + </p> + <p> + Garth quietly tendered him back the letters. + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Herrick,” was all he + vouchsafed. + </p> + <p> + “Then it isn't true?” asked Miles searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “It sounds improbable,” replied Trent composedly. + </p> + <p> + Miles reflected a moment. Then, slowly replacing the papers within the + elastic band, he remarked— + </p> + <p> + “I think I'll take Sara's opinion.” + </p> + <p> + If he had desired to break down the other's guard of indifference, he + succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. + </p> + <p> + Trent sprang to his feet, his hand outstretched as though to snatch the + letters back again. His eyes blazed excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “No! No! You mustn't do that—you can't do that! It's——Oh! + You won't understand—but those papers must be destroyed.” + </p> + <p> + Herrick's fingers closed firmly round the papers in question, and he + slipped them into the inside pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “They certainly will not be destroyed,” he replied. “I hold them in trust. + But, tell me, why should I <i>not</i> show them to Sara? It seems to me + the one obvious thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + Trent shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No. Believe me, it could do no good, and it might do an infinity of + harm.” + </p> + <p> + Herrick looked incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “I can't see that,” he objected. + </p> + <p> + “It is so, nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + A silence fell between them. + </p> + <p> + “Then you mean,” said Herrick, breaking it at last, “that I'm to hold my + tongue?” + </p> + <p> + “Just that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very unfair.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you published that information abroad, it's unfair to Tim. Have + you thought of that? He, at least, is perfectly innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “But, man, it's inconceivable—grotesque!” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I gave Elisabeth Durward my promise, and she has married and + borne a son, trusting to that promise. My lips are closed—now and + always.” + </p> + <p> + “But mine are not.” + </p> + <p> + “They will be, Miles, if I ask it. Don't you see, there's no going back + for me now? I can't wipe out the past. I made a bad mistake—a + mistake many a youngster similarly circumstanced might have made. And I've + been paying for it ever since. I must go on paying to the end—it's + my honour that's involved. That's why I ask you not to show those + letters.” + </p> + <p> + Miles looked unconvinced. + </p> + <p> + “I forged my own fetters, Herrick,” continued Trent. “In a way, I'm + responsible for Tim Durward's existence and I can't damn his chances at + the outset. After all, he's at the beginning of things. I'm getting + towards the end. At least”—wearily—“I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + Herrick's quick glance took in the immense alteration the last few days + had wrought in Trent's appearance. The man had aged visibly, and his face + was worn and lined, the eyes burning feverishly in their sockets. + </p> + <p> + “You're good for another thirty or forty years, bar accidents,” said + Herrick at last, deliberately. “Are you going to make those years worse + than worthless to you by this crazy decision?” + </p> + <p> + “I've no alternative. Good Lord, man!”—with savage irritability—“you + don't suppose I'm enjoying it, do you? But I've <i>no way out</i>. I took + a certain responsibility on myself—and I must see it through. I + can't shirk it now, just because pay-day's come. I can do nothing except + stick it out.” + </p> + <p> + “And what about Sara?” said Herrick quietly. “Has she no claim to be + considered?” + </p> + <p> + He almost flinched from the look of measureless anguish that leapt into + the others man's eyes in response. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, man, leave Sara out of it!” Garth exclaimed thickly. + “I've cursed myself enough for the suffering I've brought on her. I was a + mad fool to let her know I cared. But I thought, as Garth Trent, that I + had shut the door on the past. I ought to have known that the door of the + past remains eternally ajar.” + </p> + <p> + Miles nodded understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you were to blame,” he said. “It's Mrs. Durward who has + pulled the door wide open. She's stolen your new life from you—the + life you had built up. Trent, you owe that woman nothing! Let me show this + letter, and the other that goes with it, to Sara!” + </p> + <p> + Trent shook his head in mute refusal. + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” he said at last. “Elisabeth must be forgiven. The best woman in + the world may lose all sense of right and wrong when it's a question of + her child. But, even so, I can't consent to the making public of that + letter.” He rose and paced the room restlessly. “Man! Man!” he cried at + last, coming to a halt in front of Herrick. “Can't you see—that + woman trusted me with her whole life, and with the life of any child that + she might bear, when she married on the strength of my promise. And I must + keep faith with her. It's the one poor rag of honour left me, Herrick!”—with + intense bitterness. + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. Then, at last, Miles held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You've beaten me,” he said sadly. “I won't destroy the letters. As I + said, they are a trust. But the secret is safe with me, after this. You've + tied my hands.” + </p> + <p> + Trent smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “You'll get used to it,” he commented. “Mine have been tied for + three-and-twenty years—though even yet I don't wear my bonds with + grace, precisely.” + </p> + <p> + He had become once more the hermit of old acquaintance—sardonic, + harsh, his emotions hidden beneath that curt indifference of manner with + which those who knew him were painfully familiar. + </p> + <p> + The two men shook hands in silence, and a few minutes later, Herrick, left + alone, replaced the letters in the drawer whence he had taken them, and, + turning the key upon them, slipped it into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <h3> + DEFEAT + </h3> + <p> + In remote country districts that memorable Fourth of August, when England + declared war on Germany, came and went unostentatiously. + </p> + <p> + People read the news a trifle breathlessly, reflected with a sigh of + contentment on the invincible British Navy, and with a little gust of + prideful triumph upon the Expeditionary force—ready to the last + burnished button of each man's tunic—and proceeded quietly with + their usual avocations. + </p> + <p> + Then came the soaring Bank Rate, and business men on holiday raced back to + London to contend with the new financial conditions and assure their + credit. That was all that happened—at first. + </p> + <p> + Few foresaw that the gaunt, grim Spectre of War had come to dwell in their + very midst, nor that soon he would pass from house to house, palace and + cottage alike, touching first this man, then that, on the shoulder, with + the single word “Come!” on his lips, until gradually the nations, one by + one, left their tasks of peace and rose and followed him. + </p> + <p> + Monkshaven, in common with other seaside towns, witnessed the sudden + exodus of City men when the climbing Bank Rate sounded its alarm. Beyond + that, the war, for the moment, reacted very little on its daily processes + of life. There was no disorganization of amusements—tennis, boating, + and bathing went on much as usual, and clever people, proud of their + ability to add two and two together and make four of them, announced that + it was all explained now why certain young officers in the neighbourhood + had been hurriedly recalled a few days previously, and their leave + cancelled. + </p> + <p> + Then came the black news of that long, desperate retreat from Mons, + shaking the nation to its very soul, and in the wave of high courage and + endeavour that swept responsively across the country, the smaller things + began to fall into their little place. + </p> + <p> + To Sara, stricken by her own individual sorrow, the war came like a + rushing, mighty wind, rousing her from the brooding, introspective habit + which had laid hold of her and bracing her to take a fresh grip upon life. + Its immense demands, the illimitable suffering it carried in its train, + lifted her out of the contemplation of her own personal grief into a + veritable passion of pity for the world agony beating up around her. + </p> + <p> + And, with Sara, to compassionate meant to succour. Nor did it require more + than the first few weeks of war to demonstrate where such help as she was + capable of giving was most sorely needed. + </p> + <p> + She had been through a course of First Aid and held her certificate, and, + thanks to a year in France when she was seventeen—a much-grudged + year, at the time, since it had separated her from her beloved Patrick—and + to a natural facility for the language, inherited from her French + forbears, she spoke French almost as fluently as she did English. + </p> + <p> + In France they were crying out for nurses, for at that period of the war + there was work for any woman who had even a little knowledge plus the grit + to face the horrors of those early days, and it was to France that Sara + forthwith determined to go. + </p> + <p> + She had heard that an old friend of Patrick Lovell's, Lady Arronby by + name, proposed equipping and taking over to France a party of nurses, and + she promptly wrote to her, begging that she might be included in the + little company. + </p> + <p> + Lady Arronby, who had been a sister at a London hospital before her + marriage, recollected her old friend's ward very clearly. Sara rarely + failed to make a definite impression, even upon people who only knew her + slightly, and Lady Arronby, who had known her from her earliest days at + Barrow, answered her letter without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be delighted to have you with me,” she had written. “Even though + you are not a trained nurse, there's work out there for women of your + caliber, my dear. So come. It will be a week or two yet before we have all + our equipment, but I am pushing things on as fast as I can, so hold + yourself in readiness to come at a day's notice.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Sara's earliest personal encounter with the reality of the war + came in a few hurried lines from Elisabeth telling her that Major Durward + had rejoined the Army and would be going out to France almost immediately. + </p> + <p> + Sara thrilled, and with the thrill came the answering stab of the sword + that was to pierce her again and again through the long months ahead. + Garth Trent—the man she loved—could have no part nor lot in + this splendid service of England's sons for England! The country wanted + brave men now—not men who faltered when faltering meant failure and + defeat. + </p> + <p> + She had not seen Garth since that day—a million years ago it seemed—when + she had sent him from her, and he had gone, admitting the justice of her + decision. + </p> + <p> + There was no getting behind that. She would have defied Elisabeth, defied + a whole world of slanderous tongues, had they accused him, if he himself + had denied the charge. But he had not been able to deny it. It was true—a + deadly, official truth, tabulated somewhere in the records of her country, + that the man she loved had been cashiered for cowardice. + </p> + <p> + The knowledge almost crushed her, and she sometimes wondered if there + could be a keener suffering, in the whole gamut of human pain, than that + which a woman bears whose high pride in her lover has been laid utterly in + the dust. + </p> + <p> + The dread of danger, separation—even death itself—were not + comparable with it. Sara envied the women whose men were killed in action. + At least, they had a splendid memory to hold which nothing could ever soil + or take away. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes her thoughts wandered fugitively to Tim. Surely here was his + chance to break from the bondage his mother had imposed upon him! He had + not written to her of late, but she felt convinced that she would have + heard from Elisabeth had he volunteered. She was a little puzzled over his + silence and inaction. He had seemed so keen last winter at Barrow, when + together they had discussed this very subject of soldiering. Could it be + that now, when the opportunity offered, Tim was—evading it? But the + thought was dismissed almost as swiftly as it had arisen, and Sara blushed + scarlet with shame that the bare suspicions should have crossed her mind, + even for an instant, recognizing it as the outcrop of that bitter + knowledge which had cut at the very roots of her belief in men's courage. + </p> + <p> + And there were men around her whose readiness to make the great sacrifice + combated the poison of one man's failure. Daily she heard of this or that + man whom she knew, either personally or by name, having volunteered and + been accepted, and very often she had to listen to Miles Herrick's fierce + rebellion against the fact that he was ineligible, and endeavour to + console him. + </p> + <p> + But it was Audrey Maynard who plumbed the full depths of bitterness in + Herrick's heart. She had been teaching him to knit, and he was floundering + through the intricacies of turning his first heel when one day he + surprised her by hurling the sock, needles and all, to the other end of + the room. + </p> + <p> + “There's work for a man when his country's at war! My God! Audrey, I don't + know how I'm going to bear it—to lie here on my couch, knitting—<i>knitting!</i>—when + men are out there dying! Why won't they take a lame man? Can't a lame man + fire a gun—and then die like the rest of 'em?” + </p> + <p> + Audrey looked at him pitifully. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, war takes only the best—the youngest and the fittest. But + there's plenty of work for the women and men at home.” + </p> + <p> + “For the women and crocks?” countered Miles bitterly. + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—for the crocks, too.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, Audrey, I'm an utterly useless person—a cumberer of the + ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in my eyes, Miles,” she answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + He met her glance, and read, at last, what—as she told him later—he + might have read there any time during the last six months, had he chosen + to look for it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that, Audrey?” he asked, suddenly gripping her hands hard. + “All of it—all that it implies?” + </p> + <p> + She slipped to her knees beside his couch. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear!” she said, between laughing and crying. “I've been meaning + it—'all of it'—for ever so long. Only—only you won't ask + me to marry you!” + </p> + <p> + “How can I? A lame man, and not even a rich one?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” said Audrey composedly, “we've argued both those points + before—from a strictly impersonal point of view! Couldn't you—couldn't + you get over your objection to coming to live with me at Greenacres, + dear?” + </p> + <p> + Audrey always declared, afterwards, that it had required the most blatant + encouragement on her part to induce Miles to propose to her, and that, but + for the war—which convinced him that he was of no use to any one + else—he never would have done so. + </p> + <p> + Presumably she was able to supply the requisite stimulus, for when the + Lavender Lady joined them later on in the afternoon, she found herself + called upon to perform that function of sheer delight to every old maid of + the right sort—namely, to bestow her blessing on a pair of newly + betrothed lovers. + </p> + <p> + Sara received the news the next morning, and though naturally, by + contrast, it seemed to add a keener edge to her own grief, she was still + able to rejoice whole-heartedly over this little harvesting of joy which + her two friends had snatched from amid the world's dreadful harvesting of + pain and sorrow. + </p> + <p> + By the same post as the radiant letters from Miles and Audrey came one + from Elisabeth Durward. She wrote distractedly. + </p> + <p> + “Tim is determined to volunteer,” ran her letter. “I can't let him go, + Sara. He is my only son, and I don't see why he should be claimed from me + by this horrible war. I have persuaded him to wait until he has seen you. + That is all he will consent to. So will you come and do what you can to + dissuade him? There is a cord by which you could hold him if you would.” + </p> + <p> + A transient smile crossed Sara's face as she pictured Tim gravely + consenting to await her opinion on the matter. He knew—none better!—what + it would be, and, without doubt, he had merely agreed to the suggestion in + the hope that her presence might ease the strain and serve to comfort his + mother a little. + </p> + <p> + Sara telegraphed that she would come to Barrow Court the following day, + and, on her arrival, found Tim waiting for her at the station in his + two-seater. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said with a grin, as the little car slid away along the + familiar road. “Have you come to persuade me to be a good boy and stay at + home, Sara?” + </p> + <p> + “You know I've not,” she replied, smiling. “I'm gong to talk sense to + Elisabeth. Oh! Tim boy, how I envy you! It's splendid to be a man these + days.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded silently, but she could read in his expression the tranquil + satisfaction that his decision had brought. She had seen the same look on + other men's faces, when, after a long struggle with the woman-love that + could not help but long to hold them back, the final decision had been + taken. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the lodge gates, Tim handed over the car to the chauffeur who + met them there, evidently by arrangement. + </p> + <p> + “I thought we'd walk across the park,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + Sara acquiesced delightedly. There was a tender, reminiscent pleasure in + strolling along the winding paths that had once been so happily familiar, + and, hardly conscious of the sudden silence which had fallen upon her + companion, her thoughts slipped back to the old days at Barrow when she + had wandered, with Patrick beside her in his wheeled chair, along these + selfsame paths. + </p> + <p> + With a little thrill, half pain, half pleasure, she noted each + well-remembered landmark. There was the arbour where they used to shelter + from a shower, built with sloped boards at its entrance so that Patrick's + chair could easily be wheeled into it; now they were passing the + horse-chestnut tree which she herself had planted years ago—with the + head gardener's assistance!—in place of one that had been struck by + lightning. It had grown into a sturdy young sapling by this time. Here was + the Queen's Bench—an old stone seat where Queen Elisabeth was + supposed to have once sat and rested for a few minutes when paying a visit + to Barrow Court. Sara reflected, with a smile, that if history speaks + truly, the Virgin Queen must have spent quite a considerable portion of + her time in visiting the houses of her subjects! And here— + </p> + <p> + “Sara!” Tim's voice broke suddenly across the recollections that were + thronging into her mind. There was a curious intent quality in his tone + that arrested her attention, filling her with a nervous foreboding of what + he had to say. + </p> + <p> + “Sara, you know, of course, as well as I do, that I am going to volunteer. + I let mother send for you, because—well, because I thought you would + make it a little easier for her, for one thing. But I had another reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Had you?” Sara spoke mechanically. They had paused beside the Queen's + Bench, and half-unconsciously she laid her ungloved hand caressingly on + the seat's high back. The stone struck cold against the warmth of her + flesh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Tim was speaking again, still in that oddly direct manner. “I want + to ask you—now, before I go to France—whether there will ever + be any chance for me?” + </p> + <p> + Sara turned her eyes to his face. + </p> + <p> + “You mean——” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I'm asking you once again if you will marry me? If you will—if + I can go away leaving <i>my wife</i> in England, I shall have so much the + more to fight for. But if you can't give me the answer I wish—well”—with + a curious little smile—“it will make death easier, should it come—that's + all.” + </p> + <p> + The quiet, grave directness of the speech was very unlike the old, + impetuous Tim of former days. It brought with it to Sara's mind a definite + recognition of the fact that the man had replaced the boy. + </p> + <p> + “No, Tim,” she responded quietly. “I made one mistake—in promising + to marry you when I loved another man. I won't repeat it.” + </p> + <p> + “But”—Tim's face expressed sheer wonder and amazement—“you + don't still care for Garth Trent—for that blackguard? Oh!” + remorsefully, as he saw her wince—“forgive me, Sara, but this war + makes one feel even more bitterly about such a thing than one would in + normal times.” + </p> + <p> + “I know—I understand,” she replied quietly. “I'm—ashamed of + loving him.” She turned her head restlessly aside. “But, don't you see, + love can't be made and unmade to order. It just <i>happens</i>. And it's + happened to me. In the circumstances, I can't say I like it. But there it + is. I do love Garth—and I can't <i>unlove</i> him. At least, not + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “But some day, Sara, some day?” he urged. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never marry anybody now, Tim. If—if ever I 'get over' this + fool feeling for Garth, I know how it would leave me. I shall be quite + cold and hard inside—like that stone”—pointing to the Queen's + Bench. “I wish—I wish I had reached that stage now.” + </p> + <p> + Silently Tim held out his hand, and she laid hers within it, meeting his + grave eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I won't ever bother you again,” he said, at last, quietly. “I think I + understand, Sara, and—and, old girl, I'm awfully sorry. I wish I + could have saved you—that.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped his head and kissed her—frankly, as a big brother might, + and Sara, recognizing that henceforth she would find in him only the good + comrade of earlier days, kissed him back. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Tim,” she said. “I knew you would understand. And, please, we + won't ever speak of it again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we won't speak of it again,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + He tucked his arm under hers, and they walked on together in the direction + of the house. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” she said, “let's go to Elisabeth and break it to her that we + are—both—going out to France as soon as we can get there.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to look at her. + </p> + <p> + “You?” he exclaimed. “You going out? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going with Lady Arronby. I want to go—badly. I want to be in + the heart of things. You don't suppose”—with a rather shaky little + laugh—“that I can stay quietly at home in England—and knit, do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose <i>you</i> couldn't. But I don't half like it. The women + who go—out there—have got to face things. I shan't like to + think of you running risks—” + </p> + <p> + She laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + “Tim, if you talk nonsense of that kind, I'll revenge myself by urging + Elisabeth to keep you at home,” she declared. “Oh! Tim boy, can't you see + that just now I must have something to do—something that will fill + up every moment—and keep me from thinking!” + </p> + <p> + Tim heard the cry that underlay the words. There was no misunderstanding + it. He squeezed her arm and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All right, old thing, I won't try to dissuade you. I can guess a little + of how you're feeling.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's interview with Elisabeth was very different from anything she had + expected. She had anticipated passionate reproaches, tears even, for an + attractive women who has been consistently spoiled by her menkind is, of + all her sex, the least prepared to bow to the force of circumstances. + </p> + <p> + But there was none of these things. It almost seemed as though in that + first searching glance of hers, which flashed from Sara's face to the + well-beloved one of her son, Elisabeth had recognized and accepted that, + in the short space of time since these two had met, the decision + concerning Tim's future had been taken out of her hands. + </p> + <p> + It was only when, in the course of their long, intimate talk together, she + had drawn from Sara the acknowledgment that she had once again refused to + be Tim's wife, that her control wavered. + </p> + <p> + “But, Sara, surely—surely you can't still have any thought of + marrying Garth Trent?” There was a hint of something like terror in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Sara responded wearily. “No, I shall never marry—Garth Trent.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why won't you—why can't you—” + </p> + <p> + “Marry Tim?”—quietly. “Because, although I shall never marry Garth + now, I haven't stopped loving him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you can still care for him—now that you know what + kind of man he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Good Heavens, Elisabeth!”—the irritation born of frayed nerves + hardened Sara's voice so that it was almost unrecognizable—“you + can't turn love on and off as you would a tap! I shall never marry <i>anybody</i> + now. Tim understands that, and—you must understand it, too.” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking her passionate sincerity. The truth—that Sara + would never, as long as she lived, put another in the place Garth Trent + had held—seemed borne in upon Elisabeth that moment. + </p> + <p> + With a strangled cry she sank back into her chair, and her eyes, fixed on + Sara's small, stern-set face, held a strange, beaten look. As she sat + there, her hands gripping the chair-arms, there was something about her + whole attitude that suggested defeat. + </p> + <p> + “So it's all been useless—quite useless!” she muttered in a queer, + whispering voice. + </p> + <p> + She was not looking at Sara now. Her vision was turned inward, and she + seemed to be utterly oblivious of the other's presence. “Useless!” she + repeated, still in that strange, whispering tone. + </p> + <p> + “What has been useless?” asked Sara curiously. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth started, and stared at her for a moment in a vacant fashion. + Then, all at once, her mind seemed to come back to the present, and + simultaneously the familiar watchful look sprang into her eyes. Sara was + oddly conscious of being reminded of a sentry who has momentarily slept at + his post, and then, awakening suddenly, feverishly resumed his vigilance. + </p> + <p> + “What was I saying?” Elisabeth brushed her hand distressfully across her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You said that it had all been useless,” repeated Sara. “What did you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth paused a moment before replying. + </p> + <p> + “I meant that all my hopes were useless,” she explained at last. “The + hopes I had that some day you would be Tim's wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they're quite useless—if that is what you meant,” replied + Sara. But there was a perplexed expression in her eyes. She had a feeling + that Elisabeth was not being quite frank with her—that that + whispered confession of failure signified something other than the simple + interpretations vouchsafed. + </p> + <p> + The thing worried her a little, nagging at the back of her mind with the + pertinacity common to any little unexplained incident that has caught + one's attention. But, in the course of a few days, the manifold happenings + of daily life drove it out of her thoughts, not to recur until many months + had passed and other issues paved the way for its resurgence. + </p> + <p> + Sara remained at Barrow until Tim had volunteered and been accepted, and + the settlement of her own immediate plans synchronizing with this last + event, it came about that it was only two hours after Tim's departure that + she, too, bade farewell to Elisabeth, in order to join up in London with + Lady Arronby's party. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth stood at the head of the great flight of granite steps at Barrow + and waved her hand as the car bore Sara swiftly away, and across the + latter's mind flashed the memory of that day, nearly a year ago, when she + herself had stood in the same place, waiting to welcome Elisabeth to her + new home. + </p> + <p> + The contrast between then and now struck her poignantly. She recalled + Elisabeth as she had been that day—gracious, smiling, queening it + delightfully over her two big men, husband and son, who openly worshipped + her. Now, there remained only a great empty house, and that solitary + figure on the doorstep, standing there with white face and lips that + smiled perfunctorily. + </p> + <p> + Elisabeth turned slowly back into the house as the car disappeared round + the curve of the drive. For her, the moment was doubly bitter. One by one, + husband, son, and the woman whom she had ardently longed to see that son's + wife, had been claimed from her by the pitiless demands of the madness men + call War. + </p> + <p> + But there was still more for her to face. There was the utter downfall of + all her hopes, the defeat of all her purposes. She had striven with the + whole force that was in her to assure Tim's happiness. To compass this, + she had torn down the curtain of the past, proclaiming a man's shame and + hurling headlong into the dust the new life he had built up for himself, + and with it had gone a woman's faith, and trust, and happiness. + </p> + <p> + And it had all been so futile! Two lives ruined, and the purchase price + paid in tears of blood; and, after all, Tim's happiness was as utterly + remote and beyond attainment as though no torrent of disaster had been let + loose to further it! Elisabeth had bartered her soul in vain. + </p> + <p> + In the solitude which was all the war had left her, she recognized this, + and, since she was normally a woman of kind and generous impulses, she + suffered in the realization of the spoiled and mutilated lives for which + she was responsible. + </p> + <p> + Not that she would have acted differently were the same choice presented + to her again. She did not <i>want</i> to hurt people, but the primitive + maternal instinct, which was the pivot of her being, blinded her to the + claims of others if those claims reacted adversely on her son. + </p> + <p> + Only now, in the bitterness of defeat, as she looked back upon her + midnight interview with Garth Trent, she was conscious of a sick + repugnance. It had not been a pleasant thing, that thrusting of a knife + into an old wound. This, too, she had done for Tim's sake. The pity of it + was that Garth had suffered needlessly—uselessly! + </p> + <p> + She had thought the issue of events hung solely betwixt him and her son, + and, with her mind concentrated on this idea, she had overlooked the + possibility of any other outcome. But the acceptance of an unexpected + sequence had been forced upon her—Sara would never marry any one + now! Elisabeth recognized that all her efforts had been in vain. + </p> + <p> + And the supreme bitterness, from which all that was honest and upright + within her shrank with inward shame and self-loathing, lay in the fact + that she, above all others, owed Garth Trent—that which he had + begged of her in vain—the tribute of silence concerning the past. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <h3> + THE FURNACE + </h3> + <p> + As Sara took her seat on board the train for Monkshaven, she was conscious + of that strange little thrill of the wanderer returned which is the common + possession of the explorer and of the school-girl at their first sight of + the old familiar scenes from which they have been exiled. + </p> + <p> + She could hardly believe that barely a year had elapsed since she had + quitted Monkshaven. So many things had happened—so many changes + taken place. Audrey had been transformed into Mrs. Herrick; Tim had been + given a commission; and Molly, the one-time butterfly, was now become a + working-bee—a member of the V.A.D. and working daily at Oldhampton + Hospital. Sara could scarcely picture such a metamorphosis! + </p> + <p> + The worst news had been that of Major Durward's death—he had been + killed in action, gallantly leading his men, in the early part of the + year. Elisabeth had written to Sara at the time—a wonderfully brave, + simple letter, facing her loss with a fortitude which Sara, remembering + her adoration for her husband and her curious antipathy to soldiering as a + profession, had not dared to anticipate. There was something rather + splendid about her quiet acceptance of it. It was Elisabeth at her best—humanly + hurt and broken, but almost heroic in her endurance now that the blow had + actually fallen. And Sara prayed that no further sacrifice might be + demanded from her—prayed that Tim might come through safely. For + herself, she mourned Geoffrey Durward as one good comrade does another. + She knew that his death would leave a big gap in the ranks of those she + counted friends. + </p> + <p> + It had been a wonderful year—that year which she had passed in + France—wonderful in its histories of tragedy and self-sacrifice, and + in its revelation both of the brutality and of the infinite fineness of + humanity. Few could have passed through such an experience and remained + unchanged, certainly no one as acutely sentient and receptive as Sara. + </p> + <p> + She felt as though she had been pitchforked into a vast melting-pot, where + the cast-iron generalizations and traditions which most people consider + their opinions grew flexible and fluid in the scorching heat of the + furnace, assimilating so much of the other ingredients in the cauldron + that they could never reassume their former unqualified and rigid state. + </p> + <p> + And now that year of crowded life and ardent service was over, and she was + side-tracked by medical orders for an indefinite period. + </p> + <p> + “Go back to England,” her doctor had told her, “to the quietest corner in + the country you can find—and try to forget that there <i>is</i> a + war!” + </p> + <p> + This thin, eager-faced young woman, of whom every one on the hospital + staff spoke in such glowing terms, interested him enormously. He could see + that her year's work had taken out of her about double what it would have + taken out of any one less sensitively alive, and he made a shrewd guess + that something over and above the mere hard work accounted for that + curiously fine-drawn look which he had observed in her. + </p> + <p> + During a hastily snatched meal, before the advent of another batch of + casualties, he had sounded Lady Arronby on the subject. The latter shook + her head. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you very little. I believe there was a bad love-affair just + before the war. All I know is that she was engaged and that the engagement + was broken off very suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! And she's been living on her reserves ever since. Pack her off to + England—and do it quick.” + </p> + <p> + So October found Sara back in England once again, and as the train steamed + into Monkshaven station, and her eager gaze fell on the little group of + people on the platform, waiting to welcome her return, she felt a sudden + rush of tears to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + She winked them away, and leaned out of the window. They were all there—big + Dick Selwyn, and Molly, looking like a masquerading Venus in her V.A.D. + uniform, the Lavender Lady and Miles, and—radiant and + well-turned-out as ever—Mile's wife. + </p> + <p> + The Herrick's wedding had taken place very unobtrusively. About a month + after Sara had crossed to France, Miles and Audrey had walked quietly into + church one morning at nine o'clock and got married. + </p> + <p> + Monkshaven had been frankly disappointed. The gossips, who had so + frequently partaken of Audrey's hospitality and then discussed her + acrimoniously, had counted upon the lavish entertainment with which, even + in war-time, the wedding of a millionaire's widow might be expected to be + celebrated. + </p> + <p> + Instead of which, there had been this “hole-and-corner” sort of marriage, + as the disappointed femininity of Monkshaven chose to call it, and, after + a very brief honeymoon, Miles and Audrey had returned and thrown + themselves heart and soul into the work of organizing and equipping a + convalescent hospital for officers, of which Audrey had undertaken to bear + the entire cost. + </p> + <p> + Henceforth the mouths of Audrey's detractors were closed. She was no + longer “that shocking little widow with the dyed hair,” but a woman who + had married into a branch of one of the oldest families in the county, and + whose immense private fortune had enabled her to give substantial help to + her country in its need. + </p> + <p> + “I think it's simply splendid of you, Audrey,” declared Sara warmly, as + they were all partaking of tea at Greenacres, whither Audrey's car had + borne them from the station. + </p> + <p> + Audrey laughed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, what else could I do with my money? I've got such a sickening + lot of it, you see! Besides”—with a bantering glance at her husband—“I + think it was only the prospect of being of some use at my hospital which + induced Miles to marry me! He's my private secretary, you know, and boss + of the commissariat department.” + </p> + <p> + Miles saluted. + </p> + <p> + “Quartermaster, at your service, miss,” he said cheerfully, adding with a + chuckle: “I saw my chance of getting a job if I married Audrey, so of + course I took it.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking amazingly well. The fact of being of some use in the world + had acted upon him like a tonic, and there was no misinterpreting the + glance of complete and happy understanding that passed between him and his + wife. + </p> + <p> + Glad as she was to see it, it served to remind Sara painfully of all that + she had missed, to stir anew the aching longing for Garth Trent, which, + though struggled against, and beaten down, and sometimes temporarily + crowded out by the thousand claims of each day's labour, had been with her + all through the long months of her absence from Monkshaven. + </p> + <p> + It was this which had worn her so fine, not the hard physical work that + she had been doing. Always slender, and built on racing lines, there was + something almost ethereal about her now, and her sombre eyes looked nearly + double their size in her small face of which the contour was so painfully + distinct. Yet she was as vivid and alive as ever; she seemed to diffuse, + as it were, a kind of spiritual brilliance. + </p> + <p> + “She makes one think of a flame,” Audrey told her husband when they were + alone once more. “There is something so <i>vital</i> about her, in spite + of that curiously frail look she has.” + </p> + <p> + Miles nodded. + </p> + <p> + “She's burning herself out,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + Audrey looked startled. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Miles?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! I should think it's self-evident. She's exactly as much in + love with Trent as she was a year ago, and she's fighting against it every + hour of her life. And the strain's breaking her.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't we do something to help?” Audrey put her question with a helpless + consciousness of its futility. + </p> + <p> + Herrick's eyes kindled. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” he answered with quiet decision. “Every one must work out his + own salvation—if it's to be a salvation worth having.” + </p> + <p> + Herrick had delved to the root of the matter when he had declared that + Sara was exactly as much in love as she had been a year ago. + </p> + <p> + She had realized this for herself, and it had converted life into an + endless conflict between her love for Garth and her shamed sense of his + unworthiness. And now, her return to Monkshaven, to its familiar, + memory-haunted scenes, had quickened the struggle into new vitality. + </p> + <p> + With the broadened outlook born of her recent experiences, she began to + ask herself whether a man need be condemned, utterly and for ever, for a + momentary loss of nerve—even Elisabeth had admitted that it was + probably no more than that! And then, conversely, her fierce detestation + of that particular form of weakness, inculcated in her from her childhood + by Patrick Lovell, would spring up protestingly, and she would shrink with + loathing from the thought that she had given her love to a man who had + been convicted of that very thing. + </p> + <p> + Nor was the attitude he had assumed in regard to the war calculated to + placate her. She had learned from Molly that he had abstained from taking + up any form of war-work whatsoever. He appeared to be utterly indifferent + to the need of the moment, and the whole of Monkshaven buzzed with + patriotic disapprobation of his conduct. There were few idle hands there + now. A big munitions factory had been established at Oldhampton, and its + demands, added to the necessities of the hospital, left no loophole of + excuse for slackers. + </p> + <p> + Sara reflected bitterly that the sole courage of which Garth seemed + possessed was a kind of cold, moral courage—brazen-facedness, the + townspeople termed it—which enabled him to refuse doggedly to be + driven out of Monkshaven, even though the whole weight of public opinion + was dead against him. + </p> + <p> + And then the recollection of that day on Devil's Hood Island, when he had + deliberately risked his life to save her reputation, would return to her + with overwhelming force—mocking the verdict of the court-martial, + repudiating the condemnation which had made her thrust him out of her + life. + </p> + <p> + So the pendulum swung, this way and that, lacerating her heart each time + it swept forward or back. But the blind agony of her recoil, when she had + first learned the story of that tragic happening on the Indian frontier, + was passed. + </p> + <p> + Then, overmastered by the horror of the thing, she had flung violently + away from Garth, feeling herself soiled and dishonoured by the mere fact + of her love for him, too revolted to contemplate anything other than the + severance of the tie between them as swiftly as possible. + </p> + <p> + Now, with the widened sympathies and understanding which the past year of + intimacy with human nature at its strongest, and at its weakest, had + brought her, new thoughts and new possibilities were awaking within her. + </p> + <p> + The furnace—that fiercely burning furnace of life at its intensest—had + done its work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <h3> + ON CRABTREE MOOR + </h3> + <p> + “Tim is wounded, and has been recommended for the Military Cross.” + </p> + <p> + Sara made the double announcement quite calmly. The two things so often + went together—it was the grey and gold warp and waft of war with + which people had long since grown pathetically familiar. + </p> + <p> + “How splendid!” Molly enthused with sparkling eyes, adding quickly, “I + hope he's not very badly wounded?” + </p> + <p> + “Elisabeth doesn't give any particulars in her letter. I can't understand + her,” Sara continued, her brows contracting in a puzzled fashion. “She + seems so calm about it. She has always hated the idea of Tim's soldiering, + yet now, although she's lost her husband and her son is wounded, she's + taking it finely.” + </p> + <p> + Selwyn looked up from filling his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “She's answering to the call—like every one else,” he observed + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “No.” Sara shook her head. “I don't feel as though it were that. It's + something more individual. Perhaps”—thoughtfully—“it's pride + of a kind. The sort of impression I have is that she's so proud—so + proud of Geoffrey's fine death, and of Tim's winning the Military Cross, + that it has compensated in some way.” + </p> + <p> + “The war's full of surprises,” remarked Molly reflectively. “I never was + so astonished in my life as when I found that Lester Kent's wife believed + him to be a model of all the virtues! I wrote and told you—didn't I, + Sara?—that he was sent to Oldhampton Hospital? He got smashed up, + driving a motor ambulance, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you wrote and said that he died in hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, his wife came to see him, with her little boy. She was the sweetest + thing, and so plucky. 'My dear,' she said to me, after it was all over, 'I + hope you'll find a husband as dear and good. He was so loyal and true—and + now that he's gone, I shall always have that to remember!'” Molly's eyes + had grown very big and bright. “Oh! Sara,” she went on, catching her + breath a little, “supposing you hadn't brought me home—that night, + she would have had no beautiful memory to help her now.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet the memory is an utterly false one—though I suppose it will + help her just the same! It's knowing the truth that hurts, sometimes.” And + Sara's lips twisted a little. “What a droll world it is—of shame and + truth all mixed up—the ugly and the beautiful all lumped together!” + </p> + <p> + “And just now,” put in Selwyn quietly, “it's so full of beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “Beauty?” exclaimed both girls blankly. + </p> + <p> + Selwyn nodded, his eyes luminous. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't heroism beautiful—and self-sacrifice?” he said. “And this + war's full of it. Sometimes, when I read the newspapers, I think God + Himself must be surprised at the splendid things the men He made have + done.” + </p> + <p> + Sara turned away, swept by the recollection of one man she knew who had + nothing splendid, nothing glorious, to his credit. Almost invariably, any + discussion of the war ended by hurting her horribly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take that basket of flowers across to the 'Convalescent' now, I + think,” she said, rising abruptly from her seat by the fire. + </p> + <p> + Selwyn nodded, mentally anathematizing himself for having driven her + thoughts inward, and Molly, who had developed amazingly of late, tactfully + refrained from offering to accompany her. + </p> + <p> + The Convalescent Hospital, situated on the crest of a hill above the town, + was a huge mansion which had been originally built by a millionaire named + Rattray, who, coming afterwards to financial grief, had found himself too + poor to live in it when it was completed. It had been frankly impossible + as a dwelling for any one less richly dowered with this world's goods, + and, in consequence, when the place was thrown on the market, no purchaser + would be found for it—since Monkshaven offered no attraction to + millionaires in general. + </p> + <p> + Since then it had been known as Rattray's Folly, and it was not until + Audrey cast covetous eyes upon it for her convalescent soldiers that the + “Folly” had served any purpose other than that of a warning to people not + to purchase boots too big for them. + </p> + <p> + A short cut from Sunnyside to the hospital lay through Crabtree Moor, and + as Sara took her way across the rough strip of moorland, dotted with + clumps of gorse and heather, her thoughts flew back to that day when she + and Garth had encountered Black Brady there, and to the ridiculous quarrel + which had ensued in consequence of Garth's refusal to condone the man's + offence. For days they had not spoken to each other. + </p> + <p> + Looking backward, how utterly insignificant seemed that petty disagreement + now! Had she but known the bitter separation that must come, she would + have let no trifling difference, such as this had been, rob her of a + single precious moment of their friendship. + </p> + <p> + She wondered if she and Garth would ever meet again. She had been back in + Monkshaven for some weeks now, but he had studiously avoided meeting her, + shutting himself up within the solitude of Far End. + </p> + <p> + And then, with her thoughts still centred round the man she loved, she + lifted her eyes and saw him standing quite close to her. He was leaning + against a gate which gave egress from the moor into an adjacent pasture + field towards which her steps were bent. His arms, loosely folded, rested + upon the top of the gate, and he was looking away from her towards the + distant vista of sea and cliff. Evidently he had not heard her light + footsteps on the springy turf, for he made no movement, but remained + absorbed in his thoughts, unconscious of her presence. + </p> + <p> + Sara halted as though transfixed. For an instant the whole world seemed to + rock, and a black mist rose up in front of her, blotting out that solitary + figure at the gateway. Her heart beat in great, suffocating throbs, and + her throat ached unbearably, as if a hand had closed upon it and were + gripping it so tightly that she could not breathe. Then her senses + steadied, and her gaze leapt to the face outlined in profile against the + cold background of the winter sky. + </p> + <p> + Her searching eyes, poignantly observant, sensed a subtle difference in it—or, + perhaps, less actually a difference than a certain emphasizing of what had + been before only latent and foreshadowed. The lean face was still leaner + than she had known it, and there were deep lines about the mouth—graven. + And the mouth itself held something sternly sweet and austere about the + manner of its closing—a severity of self-discipline which one might + look to see on the lips of a man who has made the supreme sacrifice of his + own will, bludgeoning his desires into submission in response to some + finely conceived impulse. + </p> + <p> + The recognition of this, of the something fine and splendid that had + stamped itself on Garth's features, came to Sara in a sudden blazoning + flash of recognition. This was not—could not be the face of a weak + man or a coward! And for one transcendent moment of glorious belief sheer + happiness overwhelmed her. + </p> + <p> + But, in the same instant, the damning facts stormed up at her—the + verdict of the court-martial, the details Elisabeth had supplied, above + all, Garth's own inability to deny the charge—and the light of + momentary ecstasy flared and went out in darkness. + </p> + <p> + An inarticulate sound escaped her, forced from her lips by the pang of + that sudden frustration of leaping hope, and, hearing it, Garth turned and + saw her. + </p> + <p> + “Sara!” The name rushed from his lips, shaken with a tumult of emotion. + And then he was silent, staring at her across the little space that + separated them, his hand gripping the topmost bar of the gate as though + for actual physical support. + </p> + <p> + The calm of his face, that lofty serenity which had been impressed upon + it, was suddenly all broken up. + </p> + <p> + “Sara!” he repeated, a ring of incredulity in his tones. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said flatly. “I've come back.” + </p> + <p> + She moved towards him, trying to control the trembling that had seized her + limbs. + </p> + <p> + “I—I've just come back from France,” she added, making a lame + attempt to speak conventionally. + </p> + <p> + It was an effort to hold out her hand, and, when his closed around it, she + felt her whole body thrill at his touch, just as it had been wont to + thrill in those few, short, golden days when their mutual happiness had + been undarkened by any shadow from the past. Swiftly, as though all at + once afraid, she snatched her hand from his clasp. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing in France?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nursing,” she answered briefly. “Did you think I could stay here and do—nothing, + at such a time as this?” + </p> + <p> + There was accusation in her tone, but if he felt that her speech reflected + in any way upon himself, he showed no sign of it. His eyes were roving + over her, marking the changes wrought in the year that had passed since + they had met—the sharpened contour of her face, the too slender + body, the white fragility of the bare hand which grasped the handle of the + basket she was carrying. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking very ill,” he said, at last, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not ill,” she replied indifferently. “Only a bit over-tired. As soon + as I have had a thorough rest I am going back to France.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't go back there again?” he exclaimed sharply. “You're not fit for + such work!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I shall go back—as soon as ever Dr. Selwyn will let me. + It's little enough to do for the men who are giving—everything!” + Suddenly, the pent-up indignation within her broke bounds. “Garth, how can + you stay here when men are fighting, dying—out there?” Her voice + vibrated with the sense of personal shame which his apathy inspired in + her. “Oh!”—as though she feared he might wound her yet further by + advancing the obvious excuse—“I know you're past military age. But + other men—older men than you—have gone. I know a man of fifty + who bluffed and got in! There are heaps of back doors into the Army these + days.” + </p> + <p> + “And there's a back door out of it—the one through which I was + kicked out!” he retorted, his mouth setting itself in the familiar bitter + lines. + </p> + <p> + The scoffing defiance of his attitude baffled her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want to help your country?” she pleaded. It was horrible to her + that he should stand aside—inexplicable except in terms of that + wretched business on the Indian Frontier, in the hideous truth of which + only his own acknowledgment had compelled her to believe. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with hard, indifferent eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My country made me an outcast,” he replied. “I'll remain such.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow, even in her shamed bewilderment and anger, she sensed the hurt + that lay behind the curt speech. + </p> + <p> + “Men who have been cashiered, men who are too old—they're all going + back,” she urged tremulously, snatching at any weapon that suggested + itself. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Let them!” + </p> + <p> + She stared at him in silence. She felt exactly as though she had been + beating against a closed door. With a gesture of hopelessness she turned + away, recognizing the futility of pleading with him further. + </p> + <p> + “One moment”—he stepped in front of her, barring her path. “I want + an answer to a question before you go.” + </p> + <p> + There was something of his old arrogance in the demand—the familiar, + dominating quality which had always swayed her. Despite herself, she + yielded to it now. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she said unwillingly. “What is it you wish to know?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know if you are engaged to Tim Durward.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant the colour rushed into Sara's white face; then it ebbed + away, leaving it paler than before. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said quietly. “I am not.” She lifted her eyes, accusing, + passionately reproachful, to his. “How could you—even ask me that? + Did you ever believe I loved you?” she went on fiercely. “And if I did—could + I care for any one else?” + </p> + <p> + A look of triumph leapt into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You care still, then?” he asked, and in his voice was blent all the + exultation, and the wonder, and the piercing torment of love itself. + </p> + <p> + Sara felt herself slipping, knew that she was losing her hold of herself. + Soon she would be a-wash in a sea of love, helpless to resist as a bit of + driftwood, and then the waters would close over her head and she would be + drawn down into the depths of shame which yielding to her love for Garth + involved. + </p> + <p> + She must go—leave him while she had the power. Summoning up her + strength, she faced him. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she answered steadily. “But I pray God every night of my life that + I may soon cease to care.” + </p> + <p> + And with those few words, limitless in their scorn—for him, and for + herself because she still loved him—she turned to go. + </p> + <p> + But their contempt seemed to pass him by. His eyes burned. + </p> + <p> + “So Elisabeth has played her stake—and lost!” he muttered to + himself. “Ah! Pardon!” he drew aside as she almost brushed past him in her + sudden haste to escape—to get away—and stood, with bared head, + his eyes fixed on her receding figure. + </p> + <p> + Soon a bend in the path through the fields hid her from his sight. But, + long after she had disappeared, he remained leaning, motionless, against + the gateway through which she had passed, his face immobile, twisted and + drawn so that it resembled some sculptured mask of Pain, his eyes staring + straight in front of him, blank and unseeing. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Trent!” + </p> + <p> + Miles Herrick, returning from the town to the hospital and taking, like + every one else, the short cut across the fields, waved a friendly arm as + he caught sight of Garth's figure silhouetted against the sky-line. + </p> + <p> + Then he drew nearer, and the set, still face of the other filled him with + a sudden sense of dismay. There was a new look in it, a kind of dogged + hopelessness. It entirely lacked that suggestion of austere sweetness + which had made it so difficult to reconcile his smirched reputation with + the man himself. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Garth?” Instinctively Miles slipped into the more familiar + appellation. + </p> + <p> + Trent looked at him blankly. It seemed as though he had not heard the + question, or, at any rate, had not taken in its meaning. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” he muttered, his brows contracting painfully. + </p> + <p> + Miles slung the various packages with which he was burdened on to the + ground, and leaned up leisurely against the gatepost. It was + characteristic of him that, although the day was never long enough for the + work he crowded into it, he could always find time to give a helping hand + to a pal with his back against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Out with it, man!” he said. “What's up?” + </p> + <p> + Slowly recognition came back in the other's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What I might have anticipated,” he answered, at last, in a curious flat + voice, devoid of expression. “I've sunk a degree or two lower in Sara's + estimation since the war broke out.” + </p> + <p> + Miles regarded him quietly for a moment, a queer, half-humorous glint in + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she doesn't know you've half-beggared yourself, helping on the + financial side?” + </p> + <p> + “A man could hardly do less, could he?” he returned awkwardly. “But if she + did know—which she doesn't—it would make no earthly + difference.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—it's because you're not soldiering?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I've not volunteered.” + </p> + <p> + “Well”—composedly—“why don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Trent laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “That's my affair.” + </p> + <p> + “With your physique you could wangle the age limit,” pursued Miles + imperturbably. + </p> + <p> + “I should have to 'wangle' a good deal more than that,”—harshly. + “Have you forgotten that I was chucked from the Army?” + </p> + <p> + “There's such a thing as enlisting under another name.” + </p> + <p> + “There is—and then of running up against one of the old crowd and + being recognized! It isn't so easy to lose your identity. I've had my + lesson on that.” + </p> + <p> + Miles looked away quickly. The hard, implacable stare of the other man's + eyes, with the blazing defiance, hurt him. It spoke too poignantly of a + bitterness that had eaten into the heart. But he had put his hand to the + plough, and he refused to turn back. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't it”—he spoke with a sudden gentleness, the gentleness of + the surgeon handling a torn limb—“wouldn't it help to straighten + things out with Sara?” + </p> + <p> + “If it did, it would only make matters worse. No. Take it from me, + Herrick, that soldiering is the one thing of all others I can't do.” + </p> + <p> + He turned away as though to signify that the discussion was at an end. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see it,” persisted Miles. “On the contrary, it's the one thing + that might make her believe in you. In spite of that Indian Frontier + business.” + </p> + <p> + Garth swung suddenly round, a dull, dangerous gleam in his eyes. But Miles + bore the savage glance serenely. He had applied the spur with intention. + The other was suffering—suffering intolerably—in a dumb + silence that shut him in alone with his agony. That silence must be + broken, no matter what the means. + </p> + <p> + “You'd wipe out the stigma of cowardice, if you volunteered,” he went on + deliberately. + </p> + <p> + Garth laughed derisively. + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out, Herrick,” he flung back. “I'm not a damned story-book hero, + out for whitewash and the V.C.” + </p> + <p> + But Miles continued undeterred. + </p> + <p> + “And you'd convince Sara,” he finished quietly. + </p> + <p> + A stifled exclamation broke from Garth. + </p> + <p> + “To what end?” he burst out violently. “Can't you realize that's just the + one thing in the world forbidden me? Sara is—oh, well, it's + impossible to say what she is, but I suppose most good women are half + angel. And if I gave her the smallest chance, she'd begin to believe in me + again—to ask questions I cannot answer. . . . What's the use? I + can't get away from the court-martial and all that followed. I can't clear + myself. And I could never offer Sara anything more than a name that has + been disgraced—a miserable half-life with a man who can't hold up + his head amongst his fellows! Yes”—answering the unspoken question + in Herrick's eyes—“I know what you're thinking—that I was + willing to marry her once. But I believed, then, that—Garth Trent + had cut himself free from the past. Now I know”—more quietly—“that + there is no such thing as getting away from the mistakes one has made. . . + . I'm tied hand and foot—every way! And it's better Sara should + continue to think the worst of me. Then, in the future, she may find some + sort of happiness—with Durward, perhaps.” His lips greyed a little, + but he went on. “The worse she thinks me, the easier it will be for her to + cut me out of her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then do you mean”—Miles spoke very slowly—that you are—deliberately—holding + back from soldiering?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite deliberately!” It was like the snap of a tormented animal, baited + beyond bearing. “If I could go with a clean name, as other men can——Good + God, man! Do you think I haven't thought it out—knocked my head + against every stone wall in the whole damned business?” + </p> + <p> + Miles was silent. There was so much of truth in all Garth said, so much of + warped vision, biased by the man's profound bitterness of soul, that he + could find no answer. + </p> + <p> + After a moment Garth spoke again, jerkily, as though under pressure. + </p> + <p> + “There's my promise to Elisabeth, as well. That binds me if I were + recognized and taxed with my identity. I should have to hold my peace—and + stick it all over again! . . . There's a limit to a man's endurance.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a pause: “If I could go—and be sure of not returning”—grimly—“I'd + go to-morrow—the Foreign Legion, anyway. But sometimes a man hasn't + even the right to get himself neatly killed out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you driving at now?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think it's plain enough! Don't you see what it would mean to + Sara if—that—happened? She'd never believe—afterwards—that + I'm as black as I'm painted, and I should saddle her with an intolerable + burden of self-reproach. No, the Army is a closed door for me. . . . Damn + it, Herrick!” with the sudden nervous violence of a man goaded past + endurance. “Can't you understand? I ought never to have come into her life + at all. I've only messed things up for her—damnably. The least I can + do is to clear out of it so that she'll never regret my going. . . . I've + gone under, and a man who's gone under had better stay there.” + </p> + <p> + Both men were silent—Trent with the bitter, brooding silence of a + man who has battered uselessly against the bars that hem him in, and who + at last recognizes that they can never be forced asunder, Herrick trying + to focus his vision to that of the man beside him. + </p> + <p> + “No”—Garth spoke with a finality there was no disputing—“I've + been buried three-and-twenty years, and my resurrection hasn't been + exactly a success. There's no place in the world for me unless some one + else pays the price. It's better for every one concerned that I should—stay + buried.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <h3> + OVER THE MOUNTAINS + </h3> + <p> + “He didn't do it!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Sara found herself saying the words aloud in the darkness and + solitude of the night. + </p> + <p> + Since her meeting with Garth, on her way to the hospital, every hour had + been an hour of conflict. That brief, strained interview had shaken her to + the depths of her being, and, unable to sleep when night came, she had + lain, staring wide-eyed into the dark, struggling against its influence. + </p> + <p> + Little enough had been said. It had been the silences, the dumb, + passion-filled silences, vibrant with all that must not be spoken, which + had tried her endurance to the utmost, and she had fled, at last, + incontinently, because she had felt her resolution weakening each moment + she and Garth remained together—because, with him beside her, the + love against which she had been fighting for twelve long months had + wakened into fierce life again, beating down her puny efforts to withstand + it. + </p> + <p> + The mere sound of his voice, the lightest touch of his hand, had power to + thrill her from head to foot, to rock those barriers which his own act had + forced her to build up between them. + </p> + <p> + The recollection of that one perfect moment, when the serene austerity of + his face had given the lie to that of which he was accused, lingered with + her, a faint elusive thread of hope which would not leave her, urging, + suggesting, combating the hard facts to which he himself had given + ruthless confirmation. + </p> + <p> + Almost without her cognizance, Sara's characteristic, vehement belief in + whomsoever she loved—stunned at the first moment of Elisabeth's + revelation—had been gradually creeping back to feeble, halting life, + weakened at times by the mass of evidence arrayed against it, yet still + alive—growing and strengthening secretly within her as an unborn + babe grows and strengthens. + </p> + <p> + And since that moment on the moor, when her eyes had searched Garth's face—his + face with the mask off—the dormant belief within her had sprung into + conscious knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the long hours of the night she had fought against it, deeming + it but the passionate outcome of her love for the man himself. She <i>wanted</i> + to believe him innocent; it was only her love for him which had raised + this phantom doubt of the charges brought against him; the wish had been + father to the thought. So she told herself, struggling conscientiously + against that to which she longed to yield. + </p> + <p> + And then, making a mockery of the hateful thing of which he had been + accused, her individual knowledge of Garth himself rose up and confronted + her accusingly. + </p> + <p> + Nothing that she had ever known of him had pointed to any lack of courage. + It had been on no sudden, splendid impulse of a moment that he had plunged + into the sea and fought that treacherous, racing tide off Devil's Hood + Island. Quite composedly, deliberately, he had calculated the risks—and + taken them! + </p> + <p> + Once more, she recalled the vision of his face as she had seen it + yesterday, in that instant before he had perceived her nearness to him—strong + and steadfast, imprinted with a disciplined nobility—and the + repudiation of his dishonour leapt spontaneously from her lips. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't do it!” + </p> + <p> + She had spoken involuntarily, the thought rushing into words before she + was aware, and the sound of her own voice in the darkness startled her. It + seemed almost like a voice from some Otherwhere, authoritatively assuring + her of all she had ached to believe. + </p> + <p> + She lay back on her pillows, smiling a little at the illusion. But the + sense of peace, of blessed assuredness, remained with her. She had + struggled through the darkness of those bitter months of unbelief, and now + she had come out into the light on the other side. She felt dreamily + contented and at rest, and presently she fell asleep, trustfully, as a + little child may sleep, the smile still on her lips. + </p> + <p> + With morning came reaction—blank, sordid reaction, depressing her + unutterably. + </p> + <p> + Amid the score of trifling details incidental to the day's arrangements, + with the usual uninspiring conversation prevalent at the breakfast-table + going on around her, the mood of the previous night, informed, as it had + been, with that triumphant sense of exaltation, slipped from her like a + garment. + </p> + <p> + Supposing she were to tell them—to tell Selwyn and Molly—that, + without any further evidence, she was convinced of Garth's innocence? Why, + they would think she had gone mad! Regretfully, with infinite pain it + might be, but still none the less conclusively, they had accepted the fact + of his guilt. And indeed, what else could be expected of them, seeing that + he had himself acknowledged it? + </p> + <p> + And yet—that inner feeling of belief which had stirred into new life + refused to be repressed. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically she went about the small daily duties which made up life at + Sunnyside—interviewed Jane Crab, read the newspapers to Mrs. Selwyn, + accomplished the necessary shopping in the town, each and all with a mind + that was only superficially concerned with the matter in hand, while, + behind this screen of commonplace routine, she felt as though her soul + were struggling impotently to release itself from the bonds which had + bound it in a tyranny of anguish for twelve long months. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, she paid a visit to the Convalescent Hospital. She made + a practice of going there at least once a day and giving what assistance + she could. Frequently she relieved Miles of part of his secretarial work, + or checked through with him the invoices of goods received. There were + always plenty of odd jobs to be done, and, after her strenuous work in + France, she found it utterly impossible to settle down to the life of + masterly inactivity which Selwyn had prescribed for her. + </p> + <p> + Audrey greeted her with a little flurry of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that there was a Zepp over Oldhampton last night?” she asked, + as they went upstairs together. “Did you hear it?” + </p> + <p> + Sara shook her head. The memory of the previous night surged over her like + the memory of a vivid dream—the absolute assurance it had brought + her of Garth's innocence, an assurance which had grown vague and doubtful + with the daylight, just as the happenings of a dream grow blurred and + indistinct. + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't hear anything,” she replied absently. “Did they do much + damage? I suppose they were after the munitions factory?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. They dropped one bomb, that's all. It fell in a field, luckily. But + goodness knows how they got over without any one's spotting them! + Everybody's asking where our search-lights were. As for our anti-aircraft + guns, they've never had the opportunity yet to do anything more than try + our nerves by practicing! And last night a golden opportunity came and + went unobserved.” + </p> + <p> + “The milkman was babbling to Jane about Zeppelins this morning, but I + thought it was probably only the result of overnight potations at 'The + Jolly Sailorman.'” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was the real thing—'made in Germany,'” smiled Audrey. “I + begin to feel as if we were quite the hub of the universe, now that the + Zepps have acknowledged our existence.” + </p> + <p> + They paused outside the door of the room allotted to her husband's + activities. + </p> + <p> + “Miles will be glad to see you to-day,” she pursued. “He's bemoaning a new + manifestation of war-fever among the feminine population of Monkshaven. Go + in to him, will you? I must run off—I've got a million things to see + to. You're not looking very fit to-day”—suddenly observing the + other's white face and shadowed eyes. “Are you feeling up to work?” + </p> + <p> + Sara nodded indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” she said. “I shouldn't have come otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + Miles welcomed her joyfully. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, my dear!” he exclaimed. “You're the very woman I wanted to + see. I'm snowed under with fool letters from females anxious to entertain + 'our poor, brave, wounded officers.' Head 'em off, will you?” He thrust a + bundle of letters into her hands. Then, as she moved toward the windows, + and the cold, searching light of the wintry sunshine fell full on her + face, his voice altered. “What is it? What has happened, Sara?” he asked + quickly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him dumbly. Her lips moved, but no sound came. The sudden + question, accompanied by the swift, penetrating glance of Miles's brown + eyes, had taken her off her guard. + </p> + <p> + He limped across to her. + </p> + <p> + “Not a stroke of work for you to-day,” he said decisively, taking the + bundle of letters out of her hands. “Now tell me what's wrong?” + </p> + <p> + She looked away from him, a slow, shamed red creeping into her face. At + last— + </p> + <p> + “I've seen Garth,” she said very low. + </p> + <p> + Herrick nodded. He knew what that meeting had meant to one of these two + friends of his. Now he was to see the reverse of the medal. He waited, his + silence sympathetic and far more helpful than any eager, probing question, + however well-intentioned. + </p> + <p> + “Miles,” she burst out suddenly, “I'm—I'm wretched!” + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” He did not make the mistake of attributing her outburst to a + transient mood of depression. Something deeper lay behind it. + </p> + <p> + “Since I saw Garth yesterday I've been asking myself whether—whether + I've been doing him a ghastly injustice”—she moistened her dry lips—“whether + he was really guilty of—running away.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Miles stuffed his hands in his pockets and limped the length of the + room and back. In that moment, he realized something of the maddening, + galling restraint of the bondage under which Garth Trent had lived for + years—the bondage of silence, and, within his pockets, his hands + were clenched when he halted again at Sara's side. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he shot at her. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. Then she caught her breath a little hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “Why—because—because I just can't believe it! . . . I've seen + a lot since I went away. I've seen brave men—and I've seen men . . . + who were afraid.” She turned her head aside. “They—the ones who were + afraid—didn't look . . . as Garth looks.” + </p> + <p> + Herrick made no comment. He put a question. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I expect you think I'm a fool? I've nothing to go on—on + the contrary, I've Garth's own admission that—that he <i>was</i> + cashiered. And yet——Oh! Miles, if he were only doing anything—now—it + would be easier to believe in him! But—he holds absolutely aloof. + It's as though he <i>were</i> afraid—still.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever thought”—Herrick spoke slowly, without looking at her—“what + this year of war must have meant to a man who has been a soldier—and + is one no longer?” His eyes came back to her face meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “How—what do you mean?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “You've only got to look at the man to know what I mean. I think—since + the war broke out—that Trent has been through the bitterness of + death.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but he could have enlisted—got in somehow—under + another name, had he <i>wanted</i> to fight. Or he might have gone out and + driven an ambulance car—as Lester Kent did.” + </p> + <p> + Sara was putting to Herrick the very arguments which had arisen in her own + mind to confound the intuitive belief of which she had been conscious + since that moment of inward revelation on Crabtree Moor—putting them + forward in all their repulsive ugliness of fact, in the desperate hope + that Herrick might find some way to refute them. + </p> + <p> + “Some men might have done, perhaps,” answered Miles quietly. “But not a + man of Trent's temperament. Some trees bend in a storm—and when the + worst of it is past, they spring erect again. Some <i>can't</i>; they + break.” + </p> + <p> + The words recalled to Sara's mind with sudden vividness the last letter + Patrick Lovell had ever written her—the one which he had left in the + Chippendale bureau for her to receive after his death. He had applied + almost those identical words to the Malincourt temperament, of which he + had recognized the share she had inherited. And she realized that her + guardian and Miles Herrick had been equally discerning. Though differing + in its effect upon each of them, consequent upon individual idiosyncrasy, + the fact remained that she and Garth were both “breaking” beneath the + strain which destiny had imposed on them. + </p> + <p> + With the memory of Patrick's letter came an inexpressible longing for the + man himself—for the kindly, helping hand which he would have + stretched out to her in this crisis of her life. She felt sure that, had + he been beside her now, his shrewd counsel would have cleared away the + mists of doubt and indecision which had closed about her. + </p> + <p> + But since he was no longer there to be appealed to, she had turned + instinctively to Herrick, and, somehow, he had failed her. He had not + given her a definite expression of his own belief. She had been humanly + craving to hear that he, too, believed in Garth, notwithstanding the + evidence against him—that he had some explanation to offer of that + ghastly tragedy of the court-martial episode. And instead, he had only + hazarded some tolerant suggestions—sympathetic to Garth, it is true, + but not carrying with them the vital, unqualified assurance she had longed + to hear. + </p> + <p> + In spite of this, she knew that Herrick's friendship with Garth had + remained unbroken by the knowledge of the Indian Frontier story. The + personal relations of the two men were unchanged, and she felt as though + Miles were withholding something from her, observing a reticence for which + she could find no explanation. He had been very kind and understanding—it + would not have been Miles had he been otherwise—but he had not + helped her much. In some curious way she felt as though he had thrown the + whole onus of coming to a decision, unaided by advice, upon her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + She returned to Sunnyside oppressed with a homesick longing for Patrick. + The two years which had elapsed since his death had blunted the edge of + her sorrow—as time inevitably must—but she still missed the + shrewd, kindly, worldly-wise old man unspeakably, and just now, thrown + back upon herself in some indefinable way by Miles's attitude, her whole + heart cried out for that other who was gone. + </p> + <p> + She wondered if he knew how much she needed him. She almost believed that + he must know—wherever he might be now, she felt that Patrick would + never have forgotten the child of the woman whom, in this world, he had + loved so long and faithfully. + </p> + <p> + With an instinctive craving for some tangible memory of him, she unlocked + the leather case which held her mother's miniature, together with the last + letter which Patrick had ever written; and, unfolding the letter, began to + read it once again. + </p> + <p> + Somehow, there seemed comfort in the very wording of it, in every little + characteristic phrase that had been Patrick's, in the familiar + appellation, “Little old pal,” which he had kept for her alone. + </p> + <p> + All at once her fingers gripped the letter more tightly, her attentions + riveted by a certain passage towards the end. + </p> + <p> + “. . . And when love comes to you, never forget that it is the biggest + thing in the world, the one altogether good and perfect gift. Don't let + any twopenny-halfpenny considerations of worldly advantage influence you, + or the tittle-tattle of other folks, and even if it seems that something + unsurmountable lies between you and the fulfillment of love, go over it, + or round it, or through it! If it's real love, your faith must be big + enough to remove the mountains in the way—or to go over them.” + </p> + <p> + Had Patrick foreseen the exact circumstances in which his “little old pal” + would one day find herself, he could not have written anything more + strangely applicable. + </p> + <p> + Sara sat still, every nerve of her taut and strung. She felt as though she + had laid bare the whole of her trouble, revealed her inmost soul in all + its anguished perplexity, to those shrewd blue eyes which had been wont to + see so clearly through externals, piercing infallibly to the very heart of + things. + </p> + <p> + Patrick had always possessed that supreme gift of being able to separate + the grain from the chaff—to distinguish unerringly between + essentials and non-essentials, and now, in the quiet, wise counsel of an + old letter, Sara found an answer to all the questionings that had made so + bitter a thing of life. + </p> + <p> + It was almost as if some one had torn down a curtain from before her eyes, + rent asunder a veil which had been distorting and obscuring the values of + things. + </p> + <p> + Mountains! There were mountains indeed betwixt her and Garth—and + there was no way round them or through them! But now—now she would + go over them—go straight ahead, unregarding of the mountains + between, to where Garth and love awaited her. + </p> + <p> + No man is all angel—or all devil. Supposing Garth <i>had</i> been + guilty of cowardice, had had his one moment of weakness? She no longer + cared! He was hers, her lover, alike in his weakness and in his strength. + She had known men in France shrink in terror at the evil droning of a + shell, and then die selflessly that others might live. + </p> + <p> + “Your faith must be big enough to remove the mountains in the way—or + to go over them,” Patrick had written. + </p> + <p> + And Sara, hiding her face in her hands, thanked God that now, at last, her + faith was big enough, and that love—“the one altogether good and + perfect gift”—was still hers if she would only go over the + mountains. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <h3> + THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE + </h3> + <p> + “GARTH TRENT, COWARD.” + </p> + <p> + The words, in staring white capital letters, had been chalked up by some + one on the big wooden double-doors that shut the world out from Far End. + </p> + <p> + Sara stood quite still, gazing at them fixedly, and a tense white-heat of + anger flared up within her. Who had dared to put such an insult upon the + man she loved? + </p> + <p> + “<i>Coward</i>!” No one had ever actually applied that term to Garth in + her hearing. They had skirted delicately round it, or wrapped up its + meaning in some less harsh-sounding tangle of phrases, and although she + had bitterly used the word herself, now that the opprobrious expression + publicly confronted her, writ large by some unfriendly hand, she was swept + by a sheer fury of indignant denial. It roused in her the immediate + instinct to defend, to range herself unmistakably on Garth's side against + a world of traducers. + </p> + <p> + With a faint smile of self-mockery, she realized that had this flagrant + insult been leveled at him in the beginning, had her first knowledge of + the black shadow which hung over him been thus brutally flung at her, + instead of diffidently, reluctantly broken to her by Elisabeth, she would + probably, with the instinctive partisanship of woman for her mate, have + utterly refused to credit it—against all reason and all proof. + </p> + <p> + She wondered who could have done this thing, nailed this insult to Garth's + very door. The illiterate characters stamped it as the work of some one in + the lower walks of life, and, with a frown of annoyance, Sara promptly—and + quite correctly—ascribed it to Black Brady. + </p> + <p> + “I never forgits to pay back,” he had told her once, belligerently. + Probably this was his notion of getting even with the man who had + prosecuted him for poaching. But had Brady realized that, in retaliating + upon Trent, he would be giving pain to his beloved Sara, whom he had grown + to regard with a humble, dog-like devotion, he would certainly have + refrained from recording his vengeance upon Garth's gateway. + </p> + <p> + Surmising that Garth could not have seen the offending legend—or it + would scarcely have been left for all who can to read—Sara whipped + out her handkerchief and set to work to rub it off. He should not see it + if she could help it! + </p> + <p> + But Black Brady had done his work very thoroughly, and she was still + diligently scrubbing at it with an inadequate piece of cambric when she + heard steps behind her, and wheeling round, found herself confronted by + Garth himself. + </p> + <p> + His eyes rested indifferently and without surprise upon the chalked-up + words, then turned to Sara's face inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you doing that?” he asked. “Is—cleaning gates the latest + form of war-work?” + </p> + <p> + Sara, her face scarlet, answered reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want you to see it.” + </p> + <p> + A curious expression flashed into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it—two hours ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And you left it there?”—with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? It's true, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + And in that moment the long struggle in Sara's heart ended, and she + answered out of the fullness of the faith that was in her. + </p> + <p> + “No! It is <i>not</i> true! I've been a fool to believe it for an instant. + But I'm one no longer. I don't believe it.” She paused, then, very + deliberately and steadily, she put her question. + </p> + <p> + “Garth—tell me, were you ever guilty of cowardice?” + </p> + <p> + “The court-martial thought so.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's foot tapped impatiently on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Please answer my question,” she said quickly. + </p> + <p> + But he remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “Elisabeth Durward has surely supplied you with all the information on + that subject which you require,” he said in expressionless tones, and Sara + was conscious anew of the maddening feeling of impotence with which a + contest of wills between herself and Garth never failed to imbue her. + </p> + <p> + “Garth”—there was appeal in her voice, yet it was still very steady + and determined—“I want to know what <i>you</i> say about it. What + Elisabeth—or any one else—may say, doesn't matter any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the quiet depth of emotion in her voice momentarily broke + through his guard. He made an involuntary movement towards her, then + checked himself, and, with an effort, resumed his former detached manner. + </p> + <p> + “More important than anything either I, or Elisabeth, can say, is the + verdict of the court,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + The deadly calm of his voice ripped away her last remnant of composure. + </p> + <p> + “The verdict of the court!” she burst out. “<i>Damn</i> the verdict of the + court!” + </p> + <p> + “I have done—many a time!”—bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Garth,” she came a step nearer to him and her sombre eyes blazed into + his. “I <i>will</i> have an answer! For God's sake, don't fence with me + any longer! . . . There have been misunderstandings enough, reticences + enough, between us. For this once, let us be honest with each other. I + pretended I didn't care—I pretended I could go on living, believing + you to be what—what they have called you. And I can't! . . . I can't + go on. . . . I can't bear it any longer. You must answer me! <i>Were you + guilty?</i>” + </p> + <p> + He was white to the lips by the time she had finished, and his eyes held a + look of dumb torture. Twice he essayed to answer her, but no sound came. + </p> + <p> + At last he turned away, as though the passionate question in her face—the + eager, hungry longing to hear her faith confirmed—were more than he + could bear. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot deny it.” The words came hoarsely, almost whispered. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes never left his face. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't ask you to deny it,” she persisted doggedly. “I asked you—were + you guilty?” + </p> + <p> + Again there fell as heavy silence. Then, reluctantly, as if the admission + were dragged from him, he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I can give you no other answer to that question.” + </p> + <p> + A light like the tender, tremulous shining of dawn broke across Sara's + face. + </p> + <p> + “Then you <i>weren't</i> guilty!” she exclaimed, and there was a deep, + surpassing joy in her shaken tones. “I knew it! I was sure of it. Oh! + Garth, Garth, what a fool I've been! And oh! My dear, why did you do it? + Why did you let me go on thinking you—what it almost killed me to + think?” + </p> + <p> + He stared down at her with wondering, uncertain eyes. + </p> + <p> + “But I've just told you that I can't deny it!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him—a smile of absolute content, with a gleam of + humour at the back of it. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't ask you to deny it. I asked you to own to it; I tried to make + you—every way. And you can't!” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand across his mouth—laughing the tender, triumphant + laughter of a woman who has won, and knows that she has. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't blacken yourself any longer on my account, Garth. I shall + never again believe anything that you may say against—the man I + love.” + </p> + <p> + She stood leaning a little towards him, surrender in every line of her + slender body, and her face was like a white flame—transfigured, + radiant with some secret, mystic glory of love's imparting. + </p> + <p> + With an inarticulate cry he opened wide his arms and she went to him—swiftly, + unerringly, like a homing bird—and, as he folded her close against + his breast and laid his lips to hers, all the hunger and the longing of + the empty past was in his kiss. For the moment, pain and bitterness and + regret were swept away in that ecstasy of reunion. + </p> + <p> + Presently, with a little sigh of spent rapture, she leaned away from him. + </p> + <p> + “To think we've wasted a whole year,” she said regretfully. “Garth, I wish + I had trusted you better!” There was a sweet humility of repentance in her + tones. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why you should trust me now,” he rejoined quietly. “The facts + remain as before.” + </p> + <p> + “Only that the verdict of the court-martial was wrong,” she said swiftly. + “There was some horrible mistake. I am sure of it—I know it! Garth!”—after + a moment's pause—“are you going to tell me everything? I have the + right to know—haven't I?—now that I'm going to be your wife.” + </p> + <p> + She felt the clasp of his arms relax, and, looking up quickly, she saw his + face suddenly revert to its old lines of weariness. Slowly, reluctantly, + he drew away from her. + </p> + <p> + “Garth!” There was a shrilling note of apprehension in her voice. “Garth! + What is it? Why do you look like that?” + </p> + <p> + It was a full minute before he answered. When he did, he spoke heavily, as + one who knows that his next words will dash all the joy out of life. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” he said quietly, “I can no more tell you anything now than I + could before. I can't clear myself, Sara!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were fixed on his. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean—you will <i>never</i> be able to?” she asked + incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I mean that.” + </p> + <p> + “Answer me one more question, Garth. Is it that you <i>cannot</i>—or + <i>will not</i> clear yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>must</i> not,” he replied steadily. “I am not the only one concerned + in the matter. There is some one to whom I owe it to be silent. Honour + forbids that I should even try to clear myself. Now you know all—all + that I can ever tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” The question leaped from her, and Garth's answer came with an + irrevocability of refusal there was no combating. + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot tell you—or any one.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's mouth twitched. Her face was very white, but her eyes were shining. + </p> + <p> + “And you have borne this—all these years?” she said. “You have known + that you could clear yourself and have refrained?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no choice,” he answered quietly. “I took on a certain liability—years + ago, and because it has turned out to be a much heavier liability than I + anticipated gives me no excuse for repudiating it now.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Sara hid her face in her hands. When she uncovered it again + there was something almost akin to awe in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Will you ever forgive me, Garth, for doubting you?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you?” He smiled. “What else could you have done, sweetheart? I + don't know, even now, why you believe in me,” he added wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Just because—” she began, and fell silent, realizing that her + belief had no reason, but was founded on the intuitive knowledge of a love + that has suffered and won out on the other side. + </p> + <p> + When next she spoke it was with the simple, frank directness + characteristic of her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God that I can prove that I do trust you—absolutely. When + will you marry me, Garth?” + </p> + <p> + “When will I marry you?” He repeated the words slowly, as though they + conveyed no meaning to him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I want every one to know, to see that I believe in you. I want to + stand at your side—go shares. Do you remember, once, how we settled + that married life meant going shares in everything—good and bad?” + She smiled a little at the remembrance drawn from the small store of + memories that was all her few days of unclouded love had given her. “I + want—my share, Garth.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he was silent. Then he spoke, and the quiet finality of his + tones struck her like a blow. + </p> + <p> + “We can never marry, Sara.” + </p> + <p> + “Never—marry!” she repeated dazedly. Quick fear seized her, and she + rushed on impetuously: “Then you haven't forgiven me, after all—you + don't believe that I trust you! Oh! How can I make you <i>know</i> that I + do? Garth—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear,” he interrupted swiftly. “Don't misunderstand me. I know + that you believe in me now—and I thank God for it! And as for + forgiveness, as I told you, I have nothing to forgive. You'd have had need + of the faith that removes mountains”—Sara started at the repetition + of Patrick's very words—“to have believed in me under the + circumstances.” He paused a moment, and when he spoke again there was + something triumphant in his tones—a serene gladness and contentment. + “You and I, beloved, are right with each other—now and always. + Nothing can ever again come between us to divide us as we have been + divided this last year. But, none the less,” and his voice took on a + steadfast note of resolve, “I cannot marry you. I thought I could—I + thought the past had sunk into oblivion, and that I might take the gift of + love you offered me. . . . But I was wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “No! No! You were not wrong!” She was clinging to him in a sudden terror + that even now their happiness was slipping from them. “The past has + nothing to say to you and me. It can't come between us. . . . You have + only to take me, Garth”—tremulously. “Let me <i>show</i> that my + love is stronger than ill repute. Let me come to you and stand by you as + your wife. The past can't hurt us, then!” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “The past never loses its power to hurt,” he answered. “I've learned that. + As far as the world you belong to is concerned, I'm finished, and I won't + drag the woman I love through the same hell I've been through. That's what + it would mean, you know. You would be singled out, pointed at, as the wife + of a man who was chucked out of the Service. There would be no place in + the world for you. You would be ostracized—because you were my + wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't care,” she urged. “Surely I can bear—what you have + borne? . . . I shouldn't mind—anything—so long as we were + together.” + </p> + <p> + He drew her close to him, his lips against her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Beloved!” he said, a great wonder in his voice. “Oh! Little <i>brave</i> + thing! What have I ever done that you should love me like that?” + </p> + <p> + Sara winked away a tear, and a rather tremulous smile hovered round her + mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I'm sure,” she acknowledged a little shakily. “But I do. + Garth, you <i>will</i> marry me?” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his bent head, his eyes gazing straight ahead of him, as though + envisioning the lonely future and defying it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said resolutely. “No. God helping me, I will never marry you, + Sara. I have—no right to marry. It could only bring you misery. + Dear, I must shield you, even from yourself—from your own big, + generous impulses which would let you join your life to mine. . . . Love + is denied to us—denied through my own act of long ago. But if you'll + give me friendship. . . .” She could sense the sudden passionate entreaty + behind the words. “Sara! Friendship is worth while—such friendship + as ours would be! Are you brave enough, strong enough, to give me that—since + I may not ask for more?” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence, while Sara lay very still against his breast, + her face hidden. + </p> + <p> + In that silence, her spirit met and faced the ultimate issue—for + there was that in Garth's voice which told her that his decision not to + marry her was immutable. Could she—oh God!—could she give him + what he asked? Give only part to the man to whom she longed to give all + that a woman has to give? It would be far easier to go away—to put + him out of her life for ever. + </p> + <p> + And yet—he asked this of her! He needed something that she could + still give—the comradeship which was all that they two might ever + know of love. . . . + </p> + <p> + When at last she raised her face to his, it was ashen, but her small chin + was out-thrust, her eyes were like stars, and the grip of her slim hands + on his shoulders was as iron. + </p> + <p> + “I'm strong enough to give you anything that you want,” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + She had made the supreme sacrifice; she was ready to be his friend. + </p> + <p> + A sad and wistful gravity hung about their parting. Their lips met and + clung together, but it was in a kiss of renunciation, not of passion. + </p> + <p> + He held her in his arms a moment longer. + </p> + <p> + “Never forget I'm loving you—always,” he said steadily. “Call me + your friend—but remember, in my heart I shall always be your lover.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes met his, unflinching, infinitely faithful. + </p> + <p> + “And I—I, too, shall be loving you,” she answered, simply. “Always, + Garth—always.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <h3> + OUT OF THE NIGHT + </h3> + <p> + Tim was home on sick leave, and, after two perfect weeks of reunion, + Elisabeth had written to ask if he might come down to Sunnyside, + suggesting that the sea-breezes might advance his convalescence. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder Mrs. Durward cares to spare him,” commented Selwyn in some + surprise. “It seems out of keeping with her general attitude. However, we + shall be delighted to have him here. Write and say so, will you, Sara?” + </p> + <p> + Sara acquiesced briefly, flushing a little. She thought she could read the + motive at the back of Elisabeth's proposal—the spirit which, putting + up a gallant fight even in the very face of defeat, could make yet a final + effort to secure success by throwing Tim and the woman he loved together + in the dangerously seductive intimacy of the same household. + </p> + <p> + But Sara had no fear that Tim would avail himself of the opportunity thus + provided in the way Elisabeth doubtless hoped he might. That matter had + been finally settled between herself and him before he went to France, and + she knew that he would never again ask her to be his wife. So she wrote to + him serenely, telling him to come down to Monkshaven as soon as he liked; + and a few days later found him installed at Sunnyside, nominally under Dr. + Selwyn's care. + </p> + <p> + He was the same unaffected, spontaneous Tim as of yore, and hugely + embarrassed by any reference to his winning of the Military Cross, firmly + refusing to discuss the manner of it, even with Sara. + </p> + <p> + “I just got on with my job—like dozens of other fellows,” was all he + would say. + </p> + <p> + It was from a brother officer that Sara learned, later, than Tim had “got + on with his job” under a hellish enemy fire, in spite of being twice + wounded; and had thus saved the immediate situation in his vicinity—and, + incidentally, the lives of many of his comrades. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to Sara to have become at once both older and younger than in + former days. He had all the hilarious good spirits evinced by nine out of + ten of the boys who came home on leave—the cheery capacity to laugh + at the hardships and dangers of the front, to poke good-natured fun at + “old Fritz” and to make a jest of the German shells and the Flanders mud, + treating the whole great adventure of war as though it were the finest + game invented. + </p> + <p> + Yet back of the mirth and laughter in the blue eyes lurked something new + and strange and grave—inexpressibly touching—that indefinable + something which one senses shrinkingly in the young eyes of the boys who + have come back. + </p> + <p> + It hurt Sara somehow—that look of which she caught glimpses now and + then, in quiet moments, and she set herself to drive it away, or, at + least, to keep it at bay as much as possible, by filling every available + moment with occupation or amusement. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want him to think about what it was like—out there,” she + told Molly. “His eyes make my heart ache, sometimes. They're too young to + have seen—such things. Suggest something we can play at to-day!” + </p> + <p> + So they threw themselves, heart and soul, into the task of entertaining + Tim, and, since he was very willing to be entertained, the weeks at + Sunnyside slipped by in a little whirl of gaiety, winding up with a + badminton tournament, at which Tim—whose right arm had not yet quite + recovered from the effects of the German bullet it had stopped—played + a left-handed game, and triumphantly maneuvered himself and his partner + into the semi-finals. + </p> + <p> + Probably—leniently handicapped, as they were, in the circumstances—they + would have won the tournament, but that, unluckily, in leaping to reach a + shuttle soaring high above his head, Tim somehow missed his footing and + came down heavily, with his leg twisted underneath him. + </p> + <p> + “Broken ankle,” announced Selwyn briefly, when he had made his + examination. + </p> + <p> + Tim opened his eyes—he had lost consciousness, momentarily, from the + pain. + </p> + <p> + “Damn!” he observed succinctly. “That'll make it the very devil of a time + before I can get back to France!” Then, to Sara, who could be heard + murmuring something about writing to Elisabeth: “Not much, old thing, you + don't! She'd fuss herself, no end. Just write—and say—it's a + sprain.” And he promptly fainted again. + </p> + <p> + They got him back to Sunnyside while he was still unconscious, and when he + returned to an intelligent understanding of material matters, he found + himself in bed, with a hump-like excrescence in front of him keeping the + weight of the bedclothes from the injured limb. + </p> + <p> + “Did I faint?” he asked morosely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Lucky you did, too,” responded Sara cheerfully. “Doctor Dick rigged + your ankle up all nice and comfy without your being any the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + “Fainted—like a girl—over a broken ankle, my hat!”—with + immense scorn. + </p> + <p> + Sara was hard put to it not to laugh outright at his face of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “You might remember that you're not strong yet,” she suggested soothingly. + </p> + <p> + They talked for a little, and presently Tim, whose eyelids had been + blinking somnolently for some time, gave vent to an unmistakable yawn. + </p> + <p> + “I'm—I'm confoundedly sleepy,” he murmured apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “Then go to sleep,” came promptly from Sara. “It's quite the best thing + you can do. I'll run off and write a judicious letter to Elisabeth—about + your sprain”—smiling. + </p> + <p> + With a glance round to see that he had candle, matches, and a hand-bell + within reach, she turned out the lamp and slipped quietly away. Tim was + asleep almost before she had quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + It was several hours later when Sara sat up in bed, broad awake, in + response to the vigorous shaking that some one was administering to her. + </p> + <p> + She opened her eyes to the yellow glare of a candle. Behind the glare + materialized a vision of Jane Crab, attired in a red flannel + dressing-gown, and with her hair tightly strained into four skimpy plaits + which stuck out horizontally from her head like the surviving rays of a + badly damaged halo. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Sara! Miss Sara!” She apostrophized the rudely awakened sleeper in a + sibilant whisper, as though afraid of being overheard. “Get up, quick! + They 'Uns is 'ere!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Who</i> is here?” exclaimed Sara, somewhat startled. + </p> + <p> + “The Zepps, miss—the Zepps! The guns are firing off every minute or + two. There!”—as the blurred thunder of anti-aircraft guns boomed in + the distance. “There they go again!” + </p> + <p> + Sara leaped out of bed in an instant, hastily pulling on a fascinating + silk kimono and thrusting her bare feet into a pair of scarlet Turkish + slippers. + </p> + <p> + “One may as well die tidy,” she reflected philosophically. Then, turning + to Jane— + </p> + <p> + “Where's the doctor?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Trying to get the mistress downstairs. She's that scared, she won't budge + from her bed.” + </p> + <p> + Sara giggled—Jane's face was very expressive. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm going into Mr. Durward's room,” she announced. “We shall see + better there.” + </p> + <p> + Jane's little beady eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I'd like to see them at their devil's work,” she allowed fondly, + with a threatening “Just-let-me-catch-them-at-it!” intonation in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + Sara laughed, and they both repaired to Tim's room, encountering Molly on + the way and sweeping her along in their train. They found Tim volubly + cursing his inability to get up and “watch the fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Look out and tell me if you can see the blighters,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + As Sara threw open the window, a dull, thudding sound came up to them from + the direction of Oldhampton. There was a sullen menace in the + distance-dulled reverberation. + </p> + <p> + Molly gurgled with the nervous excitement of a first experience under + fire. + </p> + <p> + “That's a bomb!” she whispered breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + She, and Sara, and Jane Crab wedged themselves together in the open window + and leaned far out, peering into the moonless dark. As they watched, a + search-light leapt into being, and a pencil of light moved flickeringly + across the sky. Then another and another—sweeping hither and thither + like the blind feelers of some hidden octopus seeking its prey. There was + something horribly uncanny in those long, straight shafts of light + wavering uncertainly across the dense darkness of the night sky. + </p> + <p> + “Can you see the Zepp?” demanded Tim, with lively interest, from his bed. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's pitch black—too dark to see a thing,” replied Sara. + </p> + <p> + Exactly as she spoke, a brilliant light hung for a moment suspended in the + dark arch of the sky, then shivered into a blaze of garish effulgence, + girdling the countryside and illuminating every road and building, every + field, and tree, and ditch, as brightly as though it were broad daylight. + </p> + <p> + “A star-shell!” gasped Molly. “What a beastly thing! Positively”—giggling + nervously—“I believe they can see right inside this room!” + </p> + <p> + “'Tisn't decent!” fulminated Jane indignantly, clutching with modest + fingers at her scanty dressing-gown and straining it tightly across her + chest whilst she backed hastily from the vicinity of the window. “Lightin' + up sudden like that in the middle of the night! I feel for all the world + as though I hadn't got a stitch on me! Come away from the window, do, miss——” + </p> + <p> + The light failed as suddenly as it had flared, and a warning crash, + throbbing up against their ears, startled her into silence. + </p> + <p> + “That's a trifle too near to be pleasant,” exclaimed Tim sharply. “Go + downstairs, you three! Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Simultaneously, Selwyn shouted from below— + </p> + <p> + “Come downstairs! Come down at once! Quick, Sara! I'm coming up to carry + Tim down—and Minnie won't stay alone. Come <i>on</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Obedient to something urgent and imperative in the voices of both men—something + that breathed of danger—the three women hastened from the room. + Jane's candle flared and went out in the draught from the suddenly opened + door, and in the smothering darkness they stumbled pell-mell down the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + A dim light burning in the hall showed them Mrs. Selwyn cowering against + her husband, her face hidden, sobbing hysterically, and in a moment Sara + had taken Dick's place, wrapping her strong arms about the shuddering + woman. + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” she whispered to him. “Go and get Tim down!” + </p> + <p> + He nodded, releasing himself with gentle force from his wife's clinging + fingers, which had closed upon his arm like a vise. + </p> + <p> + Immediately she lifted up her voice in a thin, querulous shriek— + </p> + <p> + “No! Dick, Dick—don't leave me! <i>Dick</i>”— + </p> + <p> + . . . And then it came—sped from that hovering Hate which hung above—dropping + soundlessly, implacable through the utter darkness of the night and + crashing into devilish life against a corner of the house. + </p> + <p> + Followed by a terrible flash and roar—a chaos of unimaginable sound. + It seemed as though the whole world had split into fragments and were + rocketing off into space; and, in quick succession, came the rumble of + falling beams and masonry, and the dense dust of disintegrated plaster + mingling with the fumes of high explosive. + </p> + <p> + Sara was conscious of being shot violently across the hall, and then + everything went out in illimitable black darkness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <h3> + “FROM SUDDEN DEATH——” + </h3> + <p> + “Sara! Sara! For God's sake, open your eyes!” + </p> + <p> + The anguished tones pierced through the black curtain which had suddenly + cut away the outer world from Sara's consciousness, and she opened her + eyes obediently, to find herself looking straight into Garth's face bent + above her—a sickly white in the yellow glare of the hurricane lamp + he was holding. + </p> + <p> + “Are you hurt?” His voice came again insistently, sharp with hideous fear. + </p> + <p> + She sat up, breathing rather fast. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, as though surprised. “I'm not hurt—not the least + bit.” + </p> + <p> + With Garth's help, she struggled to her feet and stood upright—rather + shakily, it is true, but still able to accomplish the feat without much + difficulty. She began to laugh weakly—a little helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “I think—I think I've only had my wind knocked out,” she said. Then, + as gradually the comprehension of events returned to her: “The others? + Who's hurt? Oh, Garth! Is any one—<i>killed</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no one, thank God!” He reassured her hastily. His arm went round her, + and for a moment their lips met in a silent passion of thanksgiving. + </p> + <p> + “But you—how did you come here?” she asked, as they drew apart once + more. “You . . . weren't . . . here?”—her brows contracting in a + puzzled frown as she endeavoured to recall the incidents immediately + preceding the bombing of the house. “We'd—we'd just gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I was dining with the Herricks. The raid began just as I was leaving + them, so Judson and I drove straight on here instead of going home.” + </p> + <p> + Sara pressed his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, dear!” she whispered quickly. Then, recollection returning + more completely: “Tim? Is Tim safe?” + </p> + <p> + “Tim?”—sharply. + </p> + <p> + “He was upstairs. Where is Doctor Dick? Did he—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not far off,” came Selwyn's voice, from the mouth of a dark cavity + that had once been the study doorway. “Come over here—but step + carefully. The floor's strewn with stuff.” + </p> + <p> + Garth piloted Sara skillfully across the debris that littered the floor, + and they joined the group of shadowy figures huddled together in the + doorless study. + </p> + <p> + “'Ware my arm!” warned Selwyn, as they approached. “It's broken, confound + it!” He seemed, for the moment, oblivious of the pain. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Mrs. Selwyn, finding herself physically intact, was keeping up + an irritating moaning, interspersed with pettish diatribes against a + Government that could be so culpably careless as to permit her to be + bombed out of house and home; whilst Jane Crab, who had found and lit a + candle, and recklessly stuck it to the table in its own grease, was + bluffly endeavouring to console her. + </p> + <p> + For once Selwyn's saint-like patience failed him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up whining, Minnie!” he exclaimed forcefully. “It would be more + to the point if you got down on your knees and said thank you to some one + or something instead of grousing like that!” + </p> + <p> + He turned hurriedly to Garth, who was flashing his lantern hither and + thither, locating the damage done. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said. “Young Durward's upstairs. We must get him down.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does he sleep? One side of the house is staved in.” + </p> + <p> + “He's not that side, thank Heaven! But the odds are he's badly hurt. And, + anyway, he's helpless. I was just going up to carry him down when that + damned bomb got us.” + </p> + <p> + Garth swung out into the hall and sent a ringing shout up through the + house. An instant later Tim's answer floated down to them. + </p> + <p> + “All serene! Can't move!” + </p> + <p> + Again Garth sent his voice pealing upwards— + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! We'll be with you in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Selwyn. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go up,” he said. “You can't do anything with that arm of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I can help,” maintained Dick stoutly. + </p> + <p> + Garth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No. If you slipped amongst the mess there'll be up there, I'd have two + cripples on my hands instead of one. You stay here and look after the + women—and get one of them to fix you up a temporary splint.” + </p> + <p> + The two men moved forward, the women pressing eagerly behind them; then, + as the light from Garth's lantern steamed ahead there came an + instantaneous outcry of dismay. + </p> + <p> + The whole stairway was twisted and askew. It had a ludicrously drunken + look, as though it were lolling up against the wall—like a staircase + in a picture of which the perspective is all wrong. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't safe!” exclaimed Selwyn quickly. “You can't go up. We shall have + to wait till help comes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going up—now,” said Garth quietly. + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't safe, man! Those stairs won't bear you!” + </p> + <p> + “They'll have to”—laconically. “That top story may go at any minute. + It would collapse like a pack of cards if another bomb fell near enough + for us to feel the concussion. And young Durward would have about as much + chance as a rat in a trap.” + </p> + <p> + A silence descended on the little group of anxious people as he finished + speaking. The gravity of Tim's position suddenly revealed itself—and + the danger involved by an attempt at rescue. + </p> + <p> + Sara drew close to Garth's side. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Must</i> you go, Garth?” she asked. “Wouldn't it be safe to wait till + help comes?” + </p> + <p> + “Tim isn't <i>safe</i> there, actually five minutes. The floors may hold—or + they mayn't! I must go, sweet.” + </p> + <p> + She caught his hand and held it an instant against her cheek. Then— + </p> + <p> + “Go, dear,” she whispered. “Go quickly. And oh!—God keep you!” + </p> + <p> + He was gone, picking his way gingerly, treading as lightly as a cat, so + that the wrenched stairway hardly creaked beneath his swift, lithe steps. + </p> + <p> + Once there came the sudden rattle of some falling scrap of broken plaster, + and Sara, leaning with closed eyes and white, set face, against the + framework of a doorway, shivered soundlessly. + </p> + <p> + Soon he had disappeared round the distorted head of the staircase, and + those who were watching could only discern the bobbing glimmer of the + light he carried mounting higher and higher. + </p> + <p> + Then—after an interminable time, it seemed—there came the + sound of voices . . . he had found Tim . . . a pause . . . then again a + short, quick speech and the word “Right?” drifted faintly down to the + strained ears below. + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously Sara's hands had clenched themselves, and the nails were + biting into the flesh of her palms. But she felt no pain. Her whole being + seemed concentrated into the single sense of hearing as she waited there + in the candle-lit gloom, listening for every tiny sound, each creak of a + board, each scattering of loosened plaster, which might herald danger. + </p> + <p> + Another eternity crawled by before, at length, Garth reappeared once more + round the last bend of the staircase. Tim was lying across his shoulder, + his injured leg hanging stiffly down, and in his hand he grasped the + lantern, while both Garth's arms supported him. + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes had opened now and fixed themselves intently on the burdened + figure of the man she loved, as, with infinite caution, he began the + descent of the last flight of stairs. + </p> + <p> + There was a double strain now upon the dislocated boards and joists—the + weight of two men where one had climbed before with lithe, light, + unimpeded limbs—and it seemed to Sara's tense, set vision as if a + slight tremor ran throughout the whole stairway. + </p> + <p> + In an agony of terror she watched Garth's steady, downward progress. She + felt as though she must scream out to him to hurry—<i>hurry</i>! Yet + she bit back the scream lest it should startle him, every muscle of her + body rigid with the effort that her silence cost her. + </p> + <p> + Seven stairs more! Six! + </p> + <p> + Sara's lips were moving voicelessly. She was whispering rapidly over and + over again— + </p> + <p> + “God! God! God! Keep him safe! . . . You can do it. . . . Don't let him + fall. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Five! Only five steps more! + </p> + <p> + “Hold up the stairs! . . . God! <i>Don't</i> let them give way! . . . + Don't——” + </p> + <p> + Again there came the familiar thudding sound of an explosion. Somewhere + another bomb, hurled from the cavernous dark that hid the enemy, had + fallen, and almost simultaneously, it seemed, a warning thunder rumbled + overhead like the menacing growl of a wild beast suddenly let loose. + </p> + <p> + At the first low mutter of that threat of imminent disaster, Garth sprang. + </p> + <p> + Gripping Tim firmly in his arms, he leaped from the quaking staircase, + falling awkwardly, prone beneath the burden of the other's helpless body, + as he landed. + </p> + <p> + And even as he reached the ground, the upper story of the house, with a + roar that shook the whole remaining fabric of the building, crashed to + earth in an avalanche of stone and brick and flying slates, whilst the + stairway upon which he had been standing gave a sickening lurch, rocked, + and fell out sideways into the hall in a smother of dust and plaster. + </p> + <p> + Stumblingly, those who had been watching groped their way through the + powdery cloud, as it swirled and eddied, towards the dark blotch at the + foot of the stairs which was all that could be distinguished of Trent and + his burden. + </p> + <p> + To Sara, the momentary silence that ensued was in infinity of nameless + dread. Then— + </p> + <p> + “We're all right,” gasped Trent reassuringly, and choked violently as he + inhaled a mouthful of grit-laden air. + </p> + <p> + In the same instant, across the murk shot a broad beam of light from the + open doorway. Behind it Sara could discern white faces peering anxiously—Audrey's + and Miles's, and, behind them again, loomed the heads and shoulders of + others who had hurried to the scene of the catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + Then Herrick's voice rang out, high-pitched with gathering apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Are you all safe?” + </p> + <p> + And when the reassuring answer reached the little throng upon the + threshold, a murmur of relief went up, culminating in a ringing cheer as + the news percolated through to the crowd which had collected in the + roadway. + </p> + <p> + In an amazingly short time, so it seemed to Sara, she found herself + comfortably tucked into the back seat of Garth's car, between him and + Molly. Judson, with Jane beside him, took the wheel, and they were soon + speeding swiftly away towards Greenacres, where Audrey had insisted that + the homeless household must take refuge—the remainder of the party + following in the Herricks' limousine. + </p> + <p> + It had been a night of adventure, but it was over at last, and, as Jane + Crab remarked with stolid conviction— + </p> + <p> + “The doctor—blessed saint!—was never intended to be killed by + one of they 'Uns, so they might as well have saved theirselves the trouble + of trying it—and we'd all have slept the easier in our beds!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII + </h2> + <h3> + THE RECKONING + </h3> + <p> + Elisabeth came slowly out of the room where her son was lying. + </p> + <p> + She had reached Greenacres—in response to Sara's letter, posted on + the eve of the raid—late in the afternoon of the following day, and + Audrey had at once taken her upstairs to see Tim and left them together. + And now, as she closed the door of his room behind her, she leaned + helplessly against the wall and her lips moved in a whispered cry of + poignant misery. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice! . . . Maurice saved him! . . . Oh, my God!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes—the beautiful, hyacinth eyes—stared strickenly in + front of her, wide and horrified like the eyes of a hunted thing, and her + hands were twisted and wrung beneath the stress of the overwhelming + knowledge which Tim had so joyously prattled out to her. She could hear + him now, boyishly enthusiastic, extolling Garth with the eager, unstinted + hero-worship of youth, and every word he said had pierced her like the + stab of a knife. + </p> + <p> + “If ever a chap deserved the V.C., Trent does, by Jove! It was the bravest + thing I've ever known, mother mine, for he told me afterwards, he never + expected that the top story would hold out till he got me away. He'd seen + it from the outside first, you know! And there was I, held up with this + confounded ankle, <i>and</i> with a whole heap of plaster and a brick or + two sitting on my chest I thought I'd gone west that time, for a + certainty!” + </p> + <p> + And Tim chuckled delightedly, blissfully unconscious that with each word + he spoke he was binding upon his mother's shoulders an insuperable burden + of remorse. + </p> + <p> + It was Garth Trent who had saved her son—Garth Trent, to whom she + owed all the garnered happiness of her married life, yet whose own life's + fabric she had pulled down about his ears! And now, to the already + overwhelming magnitude of her debt to him, he had added this—this + final act of sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + With an almost superhuman effort, Elisabeth had forced herself to listen + quietly to Tim's account of his rescue from the shattered upper story of + the Selwyn's house—to listen precisely as though Garth's share in + the matter held no particular significance for her beyond the splendid one + it must inevitably hold for any mother. + </p> + <p> + But now, safe from the clear-sighted glance of Tim's blue eyes, she let + the mask slip from her and crouched against his door in uncontrollable + agony of spirit. + </p> + <p> + The sin which she had sinned in secret—which, sometimes, she had + almost come to believe was not a sin, so beautiful had been its fruit—revealed + itself to her now in all its naked ugliness. + </p> + <p> + Looking backward, down the vista of years, the whole structure of her + happiness appeared in its true perspective, reared upon a lie—upon + that same lie which had blasted Garth Trent's career and sent him out, + dishonoured, from the company of his fellows. + </p> + <p> + And this man from whom she had taken faith, and hope, and good repute—everything, + in fact, that makes a man's life worth having—had given her the life + of her son! + </p> + <p> + She dropped her face between her hands with a low moan. It was horrible—horrible. + </p> + <p> + Then, afraid that Tim might hear her, she passed stumblingly into her own + room at the end of the corridor, and there, in solitude and darkness, she + fought out the battle between her desire still to preserve the secret she + had guarded three-and-twenty years, and the impulse toward atonement which + was struggling into life within her. + </p> + <p> + Like a scourge the knowledge of her debt to Garth drove her before it, + beating her into the very depths of self-abasement, but, even so, her + pride of name, and the mother-love which yearned to shield her son from + all that it must involve if she should now confess the sin of her youth, + urged her to let the present still keep the secrets of the past. + </p> + <p> + The habit of years, the very purpose for which she had worked, and lied, + and fought, must be renounced if she were to make atonement. A tale that + was unbelievably shameful must be revealed—and Tim would have to + know all that there was to be known. + </p> + <p> + To Elisabeth, this was the most bitter thing she had to face—the + fact that Tim, for whose sake she had so strenuously guarded her secret, + must learn, not only what was written on that turned-down page of life, + but also what kind of woman his mother had proved herself—how + totally unlike the beautiful conception which his ardent boyish faith in + her had formed. + </p> + <p> + Would he understand? Would he ever understand—and forgive? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + VINDICATION + </h3> + <p> + Meanwhile, the Herricks and their guests—“Audrey's refugees,” as + Molly elected to describe the latter, herself included—had gathered + round the fire in the library, and were chatting desultorily while they + awaited Elisabeth's return from her visit to Tim's sick-room. + </p> + <p> + The casualties of the previous evening had been found to be augmented by + two, since Mrs. Selwyn had remained in bed throughout the day, under the + impression that she was suffering from shock, whilst Garth Trent was + discovered to have dislocated his shoulder, and had been compelled to keep + his room by medical orders. + </p> + <p> + In endeavouring to shield Tim, as they crashed to the ground together from + the tottering staircase, Trent had fallen undermost, receiving the full + brunt of the fall; and a dislocated shoulder and a severe shaking, which + had left him bruised and sore from head to foot, were the consequences. + </p> + <p> + Characteristically, he had maintained complete silence about his injury, + composedly accompanying Sara back to Greenacres in his car, and he had + just been making his way out of the house when he had quietly fainted away + on to the floor. After which, the Herricks had taken over command. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” remarked Molly pertinently, “you might as well turn Greenacres + into an annexe to the 'Convalescent,' Audrey. You've got four cases + already.” + </p> + <p> + The Lavender Lady glanced up smilingly from one of the khaki socks which, + in these days, dangled perpetually from her shining needles, and into + which she knitted all the love, and pity, and tender prayers of her simple + old heart. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Trent is better,” she announced with satisfaction. “I had tea + upstairs with him this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” supplements Selwyn, “I fancy one of your patients has struck, + Audrey. Trent intends coming down this evening. Judson has just come back + from Far End with some fresh clothes for him.” + </p> + <p> + Audrey turned hastily to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, Miles! We can't let him come down! Mrs. Durward will be + here with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?”—placidly from Herrick. + </p> + <p> + “Well! It will be anything but well!” retorted Audrey significantly. “Have + you forgotten what happened that day in Haven Woods? I'm not going to have + Garth hurt like that again! He may have been cashiered a hundred times—I + don't care whether he was or not!—he's a man!” + </p> + <p> + A very charming smile broke over Miles's face. + </p> + <p> + “I've always known it,” he said quietly. “And—I should think Mrs. + Durward knows it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I know it now.” + </p> + <p> + The low, contralto tones that answered were Elisabeth's. Unnoticed, she + had entered the room and was standing just outside the little group of + people clustered round the hearth—her slim, black-robed figure, with + its characteristic little air of stateliness, sharply defined in the ruddy + glow of the firelight. + </p> + <p> + A sudden tremor of emotion seemed to ripple through the room. The + atmosphere grew tense, electric—alert as with some premonition of + coming storm. + </p> + <p> + The two men had risen to their feet, but no one spoke, and the brief + rustle of movement, as every one turned instinctively towards that + slender, sable figure, whispered into blank silence. + </p> + <p> + To Miles, infinitely compassionate, there seemed something symbolical in + the figure of the woman standing there—isolated, outside the + friendly circle of the fireside group, standing solitary at the table as a + prisoner stands at the bar of judgment. + </p> + <p> + The firelight, flickering across her face, revealed its pallor and the + burning fever of her eyes, and drew strange lights from the heavy chestnut + hair that swathed her head like a folded banner of flame. + </p> + <p> + For a long moment she stood silently regarding the ring of startled faces + turned towards her. Then at last she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I have something to tell you,” she said, addressing herself primarily, it + seemed, to Miles. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps she recognized the compassionate spirit of understanding which was + his in so great a measure and appealed to it unconsciously. Selwyn, with + sensitive perception, turned as though to leave the room, but she stopped + him. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't go,” she said quickly. “Please stay—all of you. I—I + wish you all to hear what I have to say.” She spoke very composedly, with + a curious submissive dignity, as though she had schooled herself to meet + this moment. “It concerns Garth Trent—at least, that is the name by + which you know him. His real name is Maurice—Maurice Kennedy, and he + is my cousin, Lord Grisdale's younger son. He has lived here under an + assumed name because—because”—her voice trembled a little, + then steadied again to its accustomed even quality—“because I ruined + his life. . . . The only way in which I can make amends is by telling you + the true facts of the Indian Frontier episode which led to Maurice's + dismissal from the Army. He—ought never to have been—cashiered + for cowardice.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and with a sudden instinctive movement Sara grasped Selwyn's + arm, while the sharp sibilance of her quick-drawn breath cut across the + momentary silence. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Elisabeth repeated. “Maurice ought never to have been cashiered. He + was absolutely innocent of the charge against him. The real offender was + Geoffrey . . . my husband. It was he—Geoffrey, not Maurice—who + was sent out in charge of the reconnaissance party from the fort—and + it was he whose nerve gave way when surprised by the enemy. Maurice kept + his head and tried to steady him, but, at the time, Geoffrey must have + been mad—caught by sudden panic, together with his men. Don't judge + him too hardly”—her voice took on a note of pleading—“you must + remember that he had been enduring days and nights of frightful strain, + and that the attack came without any warning . . . in the darkness. He had + no time to think—to pull himself together. And he lost his head. . . + . Maurice did his best to save the situation. Realizing that for the + moment Geoffrey was hardly accountable, he deliberately shot him in the + leg, to incapacitate him, and took command himself, trying to rally the + men. But they stampeded past him, panic-stricken, and it was while he was + storming at them to turn round and put up a fight that—that he was + shot in the back.” She faltered, meeting the measureless reproach in + Sara's eyes, and strickenly aware of the hateful interpretation she had + put upon the same incident when describing it to her on a former occasion. + </p> + <p> + For the first time, she seemed to lose her composure, rocking a little + where she stood and supporting herself by gripping the edge of the table + with straining fingers. + </p> + <p> + But no one stirred. In poignant silence they awaited the continuance of + the tale which each one sensed to be developing towards a climax of + inevitable calamity. + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards,” pursued Elisabeth at last, “at the court-martial, two of the + men gave evidence that they had seen Geoffrey fall wounded at the + beginning of the skirmish—they did not know that it was Maurice who + had disabled him intentionally—so that he was completely exonerated + from all blame, and the Court came to the conclusion that, the command + having thus fallen to Maurice, he had lost his nerve and been guilty of + cowardice in face of the enemy. Geoffrey himself knew nothing of the + actual facts—either then or later. He had gone down like a log when + Maurice shot him, striking his head as he fell, and concussion of the + brain wiped out of his mind all recollection of what had occurred in the + fight prior to his fall. The last thing he remembered was mustering his + men together in readiness to leave the fort. Everything else was a blank.” + </p> + <p> + Out of the shadows of the fire-lit room came a muttered question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Elisabeth bent her head in answer. “There was—other evidence + forthcoming. But not then, not at the time of the trial. Then Maurice was + dismissed from the Army.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to speak with ever-increasing difficulty, and her hand went up + suddenly to her throat. It was obvious that this self-imposed disclosure + of the truth was taking her strength to its uttermost limit. + </p> + <p> + “I had better tell you the whole story—from the beginning,” she + said, at last, haltingly, and, after a moment's hesitation, she resumed in + the hard, expressionless voice of intense effort. + </p> + <p> + “Before Maurice went out to India, he and I were engaged to be married. On + my part, it would have been only a marriage of convenience, for I was not + in love with him, although I had always been fond of him in a cousinly + way. There was another man whom I loved—the man I afterwards + married, Geoffrey Lovell—” for an instant her eyes glowed with a + sudden radiance of remembrance—“and he and I became secretly + engaged, in spite of the fact that I had already promised to marry + Maurice. I expect you think that was unforgivable of me,” she seemed to + search the intent faces of her little audience as though challenging the + verdict she might read therein; “but there was some excuse. I was very + young, and at the time I promised myself to Maurice I did not know that + Geoffrey cared for me. And then—when I knew—I hadn't the + courage to break with Maurice. He and Geoffrey were both going out to + India—they were in the same regiment—and I kept hoping that + something might happen which would make it easier for me. Maurice might + meet and be attracted by some other woman. . . . I hoped he would.” + </p> + <p> + She fell silent for a moment, then, gathering her remaining strength + together, as it seemed, she went on relentlessly— + </p> + <p> + “Something did happen. Maurice was cashiered from the Army, and I had a + legitimate reason for terminating the engagement between us. . . . Then, + just as I thought I was free, he came to tell me his case would be + reopened; there was an eye-witness who could prove his innocence, a + private in his own regiment. I never knew who the man was”—she + turned slightly at the sound of a sudden brusque movement from Miles + Herrick, then, as he volunteered no remark, continued—“but it + appeared he had been badly wounded and had only learned the verdict of the + court-martial after his recovery. He had then written to Maurice, telling + him that he was in a position to prove that it was not he, but Geoffrey + Lovell who had been guilty of cowardice. When I understood this, and + realized what it must mean, I confessed to Maurice that Geoffrey was the + man I loved, and I begged and implored him to take the blame—to let + the verdict of the court-marital stand. It was a horrible thing to do—I + know that . . . but think what it meant to me! It meant the honour and + welfare of the man I loved, as opposed to the honour and welfare of a man + for whom I cared comparatively little. Maurice was not easy to move, but I + made him understand that, whatever happened now, I should never marry him—that + I should sink or swim with Geoffrey, and at last he consented to do the + thing I asked. He accepted the blame and went away—to the Colonies, + I believe. Afterwards, as you all know, he returned to England and lived + at Far End under the name of Garth Trent.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the tale Elisabeth unfolded, and the hushed listeners, keyed up + by its tragic drama, could visualize for themselves the scene of that last + piteous interview between Elisabeth and the man who had loved her to his + own utter undoing. + </p> + <p> + She was still a very lovely woman, and it was easy to realize how + well-nigh bewilderingly beautiful she must have been in her youth, easy to + imagine how Garth—or Maurice Kennedy, as he must henceforth be + recognized—worshipping her with a boy's headlong passion, had agreed + to let the judgment of the Court remain unchallenged and to shoulder the + burden of another man's sin. + </p> + <p> + Probably he felt that, since he had lost her, nothing else mattered, and, + with the reckless chivalry of youth, he never stopped to count the cost. + He only knew that the woman he loved, whose beauty pierced him to the very + soul, so that his vision was blurred by the sheer loveliness of her, + demanded her happiness at his hands and that he must give it to her. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you think there was no excuse for what I did,” Elisabeth + concluded, with something of appeal in her voice. “But I did not realize, + then, quite all that I was taking from Maurice. I think that much must be + granted me. . . . But I make no excuse for what I did afterwards. There is + none. I did it deliberately. Maurice had won the woman Tim wanted, and I + hoped that if he were utterly discredited, Sara would refuse to marry him, + and thus the way would be open to Tim. So I made public the story of the + court-martial which had sentenced Maurice. Had it not been for that, I + should have held my peace for ever about his having been cashiered. I—I + owed him that much.” She was silent a moment. Presently she raised her + head and spoke in harsh, wrung accents. “But I've been punished! God saw + to that. What do you think it has meant to me to know that my husband—the + man I worshipped—had been once a coward? It's true the world never + knew it . . . but I knew it.” + </p> + <p> + The agony of pride wounded in its most sacred place, the suffering of love + that despises what it loves, yet cannot cease from loving, rang in her + voice, and her haunted eyes—the eyes which had guarded their secret + so invincibly—seemed to plead for comfort, for understanding. + </p> + <p> + It was Miles who answered that unspoken supplication. + </p> + <p> + “I think you need never feel shame again,” he said very gently. “Major + Durward's splendid death has more than wiped out that one mistake of his + youth. Thank God he never knew it needed wiping out.” + </p> + <p> + A momentary tranquility came into Elisabeth's face. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered simply. “No, he never knew.” Then the tide of bitter + recollection surged over her once more, and she continued passionately: + “Oh yes, I've been punished! Day and night, day and night since the war + began, I've lived in terror that the fear—his father's fear—might + suddenly grip Tim out there in Flanders. I kept him out of the Army—because + I was afraid. And then the war came, and he had to go. Thank God—oh, + thank God!—he never failed! . . . I suppose I am a bad woman—I + don't know . . . I fought for my own love and happiness first, and + afterwards for my son's. But, at least, I'm not bad enough to let Maurice + go on bearing . . . what he has borne . . . now that he has saved Tim's + life. He has given me the only thing . . . left to me . . . of value in + the whole world. In return, I can give him the one thing that matters to + him—his good name. Henceforth Maurice is a free man.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>What</i> are you saying?” + </p> + <p> + The sharp, staccato question cut across Elisabeth's quiet, concentrated + speech like a rapier thrust, snapping the strained attention of her + listeners, who turned, with one accord, to see Kennedy himself standing at + the threshold of the room, his eyes fastened on Elisabeth's face. + </p> + <p> + She met his glance composedly; on her lips a queer little smile which held + an indefinable pathos and appeal. + </p> + <p> + “I am telling them the truth—at last, Maurice,” she said calmly. “I + have told them the true story of the court-martial.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you have told them <i>that</i>?” he stammered. He was very + pale. The sudden realization of all that her words implied seemed to + overwhelm him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” She rose and moved quietly to the door, then face to face with + Kennedy, she halted. Her eyes rested levelly on his; in her bearing there + was something aloofly proud—an undiminished stateliness, almost + regal in its calm inviolability. “They know—now—all that I + took from you. I shall not ask your forgiveness, Maurice . . . I don't + expect it. I sinned for my husband and my son—that is my only + justification. I would do the same again.” + </p> + <p> + Instinctively Maurice stood aside as she swept past him, her head unbowed, + splendid even in her moment of surrender—almost, it seemed, unbeaten + to the last. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was a silence—palpitant, packed with conflicting + emotion. + </p> + <p> + Then, with a little choking sob, Sara ran across the room to Maurice and + caught his hands in hers, smiling whilst the tears streamed down her + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear!” she cried brokenly. “Oh, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARVEST + + “There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live + as before; + The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; + What was good, shall be good, with, for evil, + So much good more . . .” + + BROWNING. +</pre> + <p> + “How can you prove it, Garth—Maurice, I mean?”—Selwyn + corrected himself with a smile. “You'll need more than Mrs. Durward's + confession to secure official reinstatement by the powers that be.” + </p> + <p> + The clamour of joyful excitement and wonder and congratulation had spent + itself at last, the Lavender Lady had shed a few legitimate tears, and now + Selwyn voiced the more serious aspect of the matter. + </p> + <p> + It was Herrick who made answer. + </p> + <p> + “I have the necessary proofs,” he said quietly. He had crossed to a bureau + in the corner of the room, and now returned with a packet of papers in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “These,” he pursued, “are from my brother Colin, who is farming in + Australia. He was a good many years my senior—and I've always + understood that he was a bit of a ne'er-do-well in his younger days. + Ultimately, he enlisted in the Army as a Tommy, and in that scrap on the + Indian Frontier he was close behind Maurice and saw the whole thing. He + got badly wounded then, and was dangerously ill for some time afterwards, + so it happened that he knew nothing about the court-martial till it was + all over. When he recovered, he wrote to Maurice, offering his evidence, + and”—smiling whimsically across at Kennedy—“received a haughty + letter in reply, assuring him that he was mistaken in the facts and that + the writer did not dispute the verdict of the court. My brother rather + suspected some wild-cat business, so before he went to Australia, some + years later, he placed in my hands properly witnessed documents containing + the true facts of the matter, and it was only when, through Mrs. Durward, + we learned that Maurice had been cashiered from the Army, that the + connection between that and the Frontier incident flashed into my mind as + a possibility. I had heard that the Durwards' name had been originally + Lovell—and I began to wonder if Garth Trent's name had not been + originally”—with a glint of humour in his eyes—“Maurice + Kennedy! Here's my brother's letter”—passing it to Sara, who was + standing next him—“and here's the document which he left in my care. + I've had 'em both locked away since I was seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + Sara's eyes flew down the few brief lines of the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Evidently the young fool wishes to be thought guilty,” Colin Herrick had + written. “Shielding his pal Lovell, I suppose. Well, it's his funeral, not + mine! But one never knows how things may pan out, and some day it might + mean all the difference between heaven and hell to Kennedy to be able to + prove his innocence—so I am enclosing herewith a properly attested + record of the facts, Miles, in case I should send in my checks while I'm + at the other side of the world.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, however, Colin still lived and prospered in + Australia, so that there would be no difficulty in proving Maurice's + innocence down to the last detail. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean,” Sara appealed to Miles incredulously, “do you mean—that + there were these proofs—all the time? And you—<i>you knew</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Herrick wasn't to blame,” interposed Maurice hastily, sensing the + horrified accusation in her tones. “I forbade him to use those papers.” + </p> + <p> + “But why—why——” + </p> + <p> + Miles looked at her and a light kindled in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you're marrying a chivalrous, quixotic fool. Maurice refused to + let me show these proofs because, on the strength of his promise to shield + Geoffrey Lovell, Elisabeth had married and borne a son. Not even though it + meant smashing up his whole life would he go back on his word.” + </p> + <p> + “Garth! Garth!” The name by which she had always known him sprang + spontaneously from Sara's lips. Her voice was shaking, but her eyes, likes + Herrick's, held a glory of quiet shining. “How could you, dear? What + madness! What idiotic, glorious madness!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how I could have done anything else,” said Maurice simply. + “Elisabeth's whole scheme of existence was fashioned on her trust in my + promise. I couldn't—afterwards, after her marriage and Tim's birth—suddenly + pull away the very foundation on which she had built up her life.” + </p> + <p> + Impulsively Sara slipped her hand into his. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad—<i>glad</i> you couldn't, dear,” she whispered. “It would + not have been my Garth if you could have done.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed her hand in silence. A curious lassitude was stealing over him. + He had borne the heat and burden of the day, and now that the work was + done and there was nothing further to fight for, nothing left to struggle + and contend against, he was conscious of a strange feeling of frustration. + </p> + <p> + It seemed almost as though the long agony of those years of + self-immolation had been in vain—a useless sacrifice, made + meaningless and of no account by the destined march of events. + </p> + <p> + He felt vaguely baulked and disillusioned—bewildered that a man's + aim and purpose, which in its accomplishing had cost so immeasurable a + price—crushing the whole beauty and savour out of life—should + suddenly be destroyed and nullified. In the light of the present, the past + seemed futile—years that the locust had eaten. + </p> + <p> + It was a relief when presently some one broke in upon the confused turmoil + of his thoughts with a message from Tim. He was asking to see both Sara + and Maurice—would they go to him? + </p> + <p> + Together they went up to his room—Maurice still with that look of + grave perplexity upon his face which his somewhat bitter reflections had + engendered. + </p> + <p> + The eager, boyish face on the pillow flushed a little as they entered. + </p> + <p> + “Mother has told me everything,” he said simply, going straight to the + point. “It's—it's been rather a facer.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice pointed to the narrow ribbon—the white, purple, white of the + Military Cross—upon the breast of the khaki tunic flung across a + chair-back—a rather disheveled tunic, rescued with other odds and + ends from the wreckage of Tim's room at Sunnyside. + </p> + <p> + “It needn't be, Tim,” he said, “with that to your credit.” + </p> + <p> + Tim's eyes glowed. + </p> + <p> + “That's just it—that's what I wanted to see you for,” he said. “I + hope you won't think it cheek,” he went on rather shyly, “but I wanted you + to know that—that what you did for my mother—assuming the + disgrace, I mean, that wasn't yours—hasn't been all wasted. What + little I've done—well, it would never have been done had I known + what I know now.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it would,” Maurice dissented quietly. + </p> + <p> + Tim shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No. Had my father been cashiered—for cowardice”—he stumbled a + little over the words—“the knowledge of it would have knocked all + the initiative out of me. I should have been afraid of showing the white + feather. . . . The fear of being afraid would have been always at the back + of me.” He paused, then went on quickly: “And I think it would have been + the same with Dad. It—it would have broken him. He could never have + fought as he did with that behind him. You've . . . you've given two men + to the country. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, boyishly embarrassed, a little overwhelmed by his own big + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly to Maurice, all that had been dark and obscure grew clear in + the white shining of the light that gleamed down the track of those lost + years. + </p> + <p> + A beautiful and ordered issue was revealed. Out of the ruin and bleak + suffering of the past had sprung the flaming splendour of heroic life and + death—a glory of achievement that, but for those arid years of + silence, had been thwarted and frustrated by the deadening knowledge of + the truth. + </p> + <p> + Kindling to the recognition of new and wonderful significances, his eyes + sought those of the woman who loved him, and in their quiet radiance he + read that she, too, had understood. + </p> + <p> + For her, as for him, the dark places had been made light, and with + quickened vision she perceived, in all that had befallen, the fulfilling + of the Divine law. + </p> + <p> + “Sara——” + </p> + <p> + Her hands went out to him, and the grave happiness deepened in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, no love—no sacrifice is ever wasted!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke very simply, very confidently. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Hermit of Far End, by Margaret Pedler + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMIT OF FAR END *** + +***** This file should be named 3159-h.htm or 3159-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/5/3159/ + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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