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diff --git a/33293-h/33293-h.htm b/33293-h/33293-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90c72a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/33293-h/33293-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12809 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Great Miss Driver, by Anthony Hope. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Great Miss Driver, by Anthony Hope + +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 Great Miss Driver + +Author: Anthony Hope + +Release Date: July 30, 2010 [EBook #33293] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT MISS DRIVER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>THE GREAT MISS DRIVER</h1> + +<h2>BY ANTHONY HOPE</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF TRISTRAM OF BLENT, DOUBLE HARNESS, HELENA'S PATH, LOVE'S LOGIC</h3> + + +<h4>NEW YORK<br /> +THE McCLURE COMPANY<br /> +MCMVIII</h4> + +<h4><i>Copyright, 1908, by The McClure Company</i><br /> +Copyright, 1908, by Anthony Hope Hawkins</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + +<h3>"<i>By Heaven, the girl on the mantelpiece at Hatcham Ford!</i>"</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. <span class="smcap">What is She Like?</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. <span class="smcap">Making Amends</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. <span class="smcap">On the Use of Scrapes</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. <span class="smcap">An Unpopular Man</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. <span class="smcap">Rapier and Club</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. <span class="smcap">Taking to Open Sea</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. <span class="smcap">The Flick of a Whip</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. <span class="smcap">A Secret Treaty</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. <span class="smcap">The Institute Clerk</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. <span class="smcap">A Friendly Glass</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. <span class="smcap">The Signal at "Danger"</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. <span class="smcap">Saving a Week</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. <span class="smcap">The Boy with the Red Cap</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. <span class="smcap">The Eight-fifteen Train</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. <span class="smcap">In the Dock</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. <span class="smcap">Not Proven</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. <span class="smcap">One of Two Legacies</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. <span class="smcap">The New Campaign</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. <span class="smcap">A Case of Conscience</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. <span class="smcap">Living Pieces</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. <span class="smcap">Nathan and David</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. <span class="smcap">The Alternative</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. <span class="smcap">On All Grounds—Ridiculous!</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. <span class="smcap">A Chance for the Romantic</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. <span class="smcap">A Fresh Coat of Paint</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. <span class="smcap">Pedigree and Biography</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. <span class="smcap">A Man of Business</span></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p><a href="#illus1">"By Heaven, the girl on the mantelpiece at Hatcham Ford!"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">"He might have given me a chance!"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">Jenny was crouching on the floor beside Powers</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus4">"A fresh coat of paint wanted!"</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE GREAT MISS DRIVER</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>WHAT IS SHE LIKE?</h3> + + +<p>"Perhaps you won't believe me," said I, "but till yesterday I never so +much as heard of her existence."</p> + +<p>"I've not the least difficulty in believing you. That was old Nick's +way. It wasn't your business—was it?—so he didn't talk to you about +it. On the other hand, when a thing was your business—that's to say, +when he wanted your services—he told you all about it. But I believe +I'm the only person he did tell. I'm sure he didn't tell a soul down in +Catsford. Finely put about they'll be!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cartmell, of Fisher, Son, & Cartmell (he was the only surviving +representative of the firm), broke off to hide a portion of his round +red face in a silver tankard; Loft, the butler, had brought it to him on +his arrival without express orders given; I had often seen the same +vessel going into Mr. Driver's study on the occasion of the lawyer's +calls.</p> + +<p>He set the tankard—much lightened it must have been—on the mantelpiece +and walked to the window, taking a pull at his cigar. We were in my +room—my "office" it was generally called in the household. He stood +looking out, talking to me half over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"A man's mind turns back at times like these. I remember him hard on +forty years ago. I was a lad then, just gone into the business. Mr. +Fisher was alive—not the one you remember—not poor Nat—but the old +gentleman. Nat was the junior, and I was in the last year of my +articles. Well, Nick Driver came to the old gentleman one morning and +asked him to act for him—said he thought he was big enough by now. The +old gentleman didn't want to, but poor Nat had an eye for a man and saw +that Driver meant to get on. So they took him, and we've acted for him +ever since. It wasn't many years before he—" Cartmell paused a moment, +laying the finger-tips of his right hand against the finger-tips of his +left, and straightening his arms from the elbow like a swimmer—"before +he began to drive his wedge into the county."</p> + +<p>The good man was fairly launched on his subject; much of it was new to +me, in detail if not in broad outline, and I listened with interest. +Besides, there was nothing else to do until the time came to start. But +the story will bear a little summarizing, like a great many other +stories; Cartmell was too fond of anecdotes. Thus summarized then:</p> + +<p>Nicholas Driver began life as a tanner in Catsford. He was thrifty and +saved money. With the money he bought land and built some villas; with +the rent of the villas—more land. He had faith in the development of +Catsford. He got early news of the coming of the railway; he pledged +every house and every inch of land—and bought more land. So the process +went on—detailed by Mr. Cartmell, indicated here. Nicholas Driver +became moderately rich—and, by the way, his Catsford property had never +ceased to rise in value and was rising still. Then, as it seemed (even +Mr. Cartmell spoke conjecturally), an era of speculation followed—first +in England, then in America. "That," Cartmell interjected, "was when he +picked up this girl's mother, not that she was American, but he met her +about that time." He must have speculated largely and successfully, or +he could not have made all that money—so stood the case. The money +made, the process of "driving his wedge into the county" began. "The +county" must, here and henceforward, be carefully distinguished from +"the town." Geographical contiguity does not bridge a social chasm.</p> + +<p>First he bought Hatcham Ford, a small but beautiful Jacobean house lying +on the banks of the river, some mile and a half out of Catsford at that +time, now caught in the lengthening fringe of the town. While in +residence there, he spread his territory to the north and west, +acquiring all the outlying farms which the Lord Fillingford of the day +was free to sell; then, too, he made his first audacious bid for +Fillingford Manor itself—the first of many, it appeared. Though the +later no longer seemed audacious, all had been fruitless; Lord +Fillingford could not sell without his son's consent, and that was +withheld. The family struggled on in perpetual financial straits, hating +Nicholas Driver, but envying him his money, never coming to an open +rupture with him for fear of his power or apprehension of its own +necessities; never sparing a sneer or a secret thrust when either was +safe. For his part, baffled in that quarter, he turned to the east and +approached Mr. Dormer of Breysgate Priory. It was a beautiful place. +Down by the lake lay the old Cistercian monastery; the original building +was in ruins, but a small house had been built on in the days of +Elizabeth, and this was still habitable. High on the hill stood the big, +solidly handsome, Georgian mansion, erected by the Dormer of the day +when the estate came into the hands of the family. From the hilltop the +park rolled out and out in undulating curves of rich grass-land and +spreading woods. To Nicholas Driver's joy and surprise—he had +anticipated another struggle and feared another rebuff—Mr. Dormer was +ready to sell—for a price. He was elderly, his wife middle-aged, his +only heir a cousin toward whom he was indifferent and who, though heir +of entail to the property, would be unable to keep it up, unless his +predecessor left him money for the purpose. In these circumstances +matters were soon arranged. The cousin was bought off, his consent +given, and the Dormers retired to a smaller place, properly the dower +house—Hingston Hall, situated fifteen miles from Catsford. Behold +Nicholas Driver a country gentleman on a distinctly large scale!</p> + +<p>"And with how much ready money to his name besides you'll get some idea +about when the will is proved," Mr. Cartmell ended impressively.</p> + +<p>His impressiveness impressed me; I do not know why I should be ashamed +to confess it. A great deal of anything impresses ordinary people; a +great deal of hill is a mountain, a great deal of water is an ocean, a +great deal of brain is a genius; and so on. Similarly, a great deal of +money has its grandeur—for ordinary people.</p> + +<p>"It might be a million and a half—a million and a half sovereigns, +Austin!—and it's growing every night while you sleep! And now—he's +dead!"</p> + +<p>"You do die just the same—that's the worst of it."</p> + +<p>"And not an old man either!"</p> + +<p>"Sixty-three!"</p> + +<p>"Tut—I shall be that myself in three years—and you can't tire me yet!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps making millions and driving wedges is—rather exhausting, +Cartmell. You split the tree; don't you blunt the wedge in time, too?"</p> + +<p>"The end came easy, did it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, in his sleep. So the nurse tells me. I wasn't there myself."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad it was easy. After all, he was a very old friend of mine—and +a very valuable client. Let's see, how long have you been with him?"</p> + +<p>"Four years."</p> + +<p>"Going to stay?"</p> + +<p>I rose and began to brush my hat. "If you come to that," said I, "are +you going to stay either, Cartmell? I gather that she can do as she +pleases about that?"</p> + +<p>"Every rod of ground and every farthing of money—bating decent +charities! It's a great position."</p> + +<p>"It's a very unexplored one so far as we're concerned," I made bold to +remark.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen him since—since the end, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Would you like to?"</p> + +<p>"No, I shouldn't," he answered bluntly. "Perhaps it's brutal. I know +it's cowardly. But I don't like death."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! You make half your income out of it. I say, I suppose we +might as well start?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he assented absently. "I wonder how she's turned out!"</p> + +<p>I looked at him with quickened interest. "Turned out? That sounds almost +as if you'd seen her."</p> + +<p>"I have seen her. Come along. I'll tell you about it as we drive down."</p> + +<p>We traversed the long corridor which leads from my office to the hall. +Loft was waiting for us, with an attendant footman. Loft addressed me in +a muffled voice; his demeanor might always be relied on for +perfection—he would not once unmuffle his voice till his master was +buried.</p> + +<p>"The landau is waiting, sir. The omnibus for Miss Driver's maid and the +luggage has gone on." Wonderful man! He spoke of "Miss Driver" as if she +had lived for years in the house.</p> + +<p>Cartmell gave him a queer look and emitted a low chuckle as we got into +the landau, behind the big grays. Mr. Driver always drove grays, and he +liked them big, so that he could rattle up the hill to his house.</p> + +<p>"Maid! Luggage!" muttered Cartmell. "The bus'll hold 'em, I think, with +a bit to spare! By his orders I sent her twenty pounds on Tuesday; +that's all she's had as yet. I only had time to telegraph about—the +rest."</p> + +<p>"Interesting wire to get! But about your seeing her, Cartmell?"</p> + +<p>In honor of the occasion Cartmell, like myself, had put on a black frock +coat and a silk hat, properly equipped with a mourning band of +respectful width. But he wore the coat with a jaunty air, and the hat +slightly but effectively cocked on one side, so that the quiet yet +ingrained horsiness of his aspect suffered little from the unwonted +attire. The confidential wink with which he now turned his plump +rubicund face toward me preserved his general harmony. With the mournful +atmosphere of Breysgate Priory, however, I could not help feeling that +my own lank jaws and more precisely poised head-gear consorted better.</p> + +<p>"You can hold your tongue, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"A very shrewd man has paid me four hundred a year for four years past +on that understanding."</p> + +<p>"Then what happened at the Smalls, at Cheltenham?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that beginning the story at the wrong end?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"That was where she was"—he searched for a word—"where she was +planted. She lived at three or four different places altogether, you +know."</p> + +<p>"And the mother?"</p> + +<p>"Mother died—vanished anyhow—early in the proceedings. Well, word came +of trouble at Cheltenham. Small, though of my own profession, was an +ass. He wrote a bleating letter—yes, he was more like a sheep, +really—to old Nick. Nick told me I must go and put it to rights. So I +went."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he go himself?"</p> + +<p>"I think," said Cartmell cautiously, "that he had some kind of a feeling +against seeing the girl. Really that's the only thing that accounts for +his behavior all through."</p> + +<p>"Did he never see her?"</p> + +<p>"Never—since she was quite a child. So he told me. But let me finish +the story—if you want to hear it. Being ordered, I went. They lived in +a beastly villa and were, to speak generally, a disgrace to humanity by +their utter flabbiness. But there was a flashy sort of a gentleman, by +the name of Powers." He stopped and looked at me for a minute. "A +married flashy gentleman named Nelson Powers. She was sixteen—and she +wrote to Powers. A good many letters she'd written to Powers. Small was +such a fool that Powers guessed there was money in it. And she, of +course, had never thought of a Mrs. Powers. How should she? Sixteen +and——"</p> + +<p>"Hopelessly innocent?"</p> + +<p>"I really think so," he answered with an air, rather odd, of advancing a +paradox. "She let him worm out of her all that she knew about her +father—which was that he paid the bills for her and that Small had told +her that he was rich. She didn't know where he lived, but Powers got +that out of Small without much trouble, and then it was blackmail on Mr. +Driver, of course."</p> + +<p>"Did you get at Powers? Had to pay him something, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I got at Mrs. Powers—and paid her. Much better! We had the letters in +twenty-four hours. Powers really repented that time, I think! But I had +orders to take her away from the Smalls. The same man never failed Nick +Driver twice! I sent her under escort to Dawlish—at least near +there—to a clergyman's family, where she's been ever since. But it +can't be denied that she left Cheltenham rather—well, rather under a +cloud. If you ask me what I think about it——"</p> + +<p>I had been growing interested—yet not interested in precisely the point +about which Mr. Cartmell conjectured that I might be about to inquire.</p> + +<p>"Did she say anything about it herself?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>He stroked his chin. "She said rather a curious thing—she was only +sixteen, you know. She said that we might have given her credit for +being able to take just a little care of herself."</p> + +<p>"That sounds like underrating your diplomacy, Cartmell."</p> + +<p>"I thought myself that it reflected on the bill I proposed to send in! +Funny, wasn't it? From a chit like that!"</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Asked her if she'd like a foot-warmer for the journey to Dawlish."</p> + +<p>"Capital! You were about to tell me what you thought about it?"</p> + +<p>"The folly of a young ignorant girl, no doubt. Powers was an insinuating +rascal—and a girl doesn't know at that age the difference between a +gentleman and a cad. He moved too soon, though. We were in lots of time +to prevent real mischief—and Mrs. Powers came up to the scratch!" He +drummed his fingers on the window of the landau, looking thoughtful and, +as it seemed to me, retrospectively puzzled.</p> + +<p>"And did all go smoothly with the clergyman's family?"</p> + +<p>"She's been there ever since. I've heard of no trouble. The governess's +reports of her were excellent, I remember Mr. Driver telling me once."</p> + +<p>"Well then, we can forget all about Powers."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Cartmell, drumming his fingers still.</p> + +<p>"And what was she like?"</p> + +<p>Cartmell looked at me, a smile slowly breaking across his broad face. +"Here's the station. Suppose you see for yourself," he suggested.</p> + +<p>We had ten minutes to wait before Miss Driver's train was due—we had +been careful to run no risk of not being on the spot to receive her. +Cartmell was at no loss to employ the time. I left him plunging into an +animated discussion of the points of a handsome cob which stood outside +the station: on the handsome cob's back was a boy, no less handsome, +fresh of color and yellow-haired. I knew him to be young Lord Lacey, +heir to the Fillingford earldom, but I had at that time no acquaintance +with him, and passed on into the station, where I paced up and down +among a crowd of loiterers and hasteners—for Catsford was by now a +bustling center whence and whither men went and came at all hours of the +day and most hours of the night. Driver had foreseen that this would +come about! It had come about; he had grown rich; he lay dead. It went +on happening still, and thereby adding to the piles of gold which he +could no longer handle.</p> + +<p>Instead of indulging in these trite reflections—to be excused only by +the equal triteness of death, which tends to evoke them—I should have +done well to consider my own position. A man bred for a parson but, for +reasons of his own, averse from adopting the sacred calling, is commonly +not too well fitted for other avocations—unless perhaps he would be a +schoolmaster, and my taste did not lie that way. In default of private +means, an easy berth at four hundred pounds a year may well seem a +godsend. It had assumed some such celestial guise to me when, on the +casual introduction of my uncle one day in London, Mr. Driver had +offered it to me. As his private secretary, I drew the aforementioned +very liberal salary, I had my "office" in the big house on the hill, I +dwelt in the Old Priory (that is to say, in the little dwelling house +built on to the ruinous remains of the ancient foundation), I was seldom +asked for more than three hours' work a day, I had a horse to ride, and +plenty of leisure for the books I loved. It would be very unfortunate to +have to give up all that. Verily the question "What is she like?" had a +practical, an economic, importance for me which raised it far above the +sphere of mere curiosity or the nonsense of irrelevant romance. Was she +a sensible young woman who would know a good secretary when she saw one? +Or, on the other hand, was she not? A secretary of some sort she would +certainly require.</p> + +<p>Nay, perhaps, she wouldn't. The one utterance of hers which had been, so +far, credibly reported to my ears was to the effect that she could take +care—just a little care—of herself. This at sixteen! This on the top +of circumstances which at first sight indicated that she had taken +particularly bad care of herself! Letters to a man like Powers! My +imagination, forsaking my own position and prospects, constructed a +confident picture of Powers, proceeded to sketch Mrs. Powers—strong +lights here!—and to outline the family of the Smalls of Cheltenham. It +ended by rejoicing that she had been removed from the influence of +Powers and the environment of the Smalls of Cheltenham. Because, look at +the matter how one might or could, there was no denying that it was the +sort of incident which might just as well—or even better—not have +happened at all. At the best, it was not altogether pleasant. Surely +that was the truth—and not merely the abortive parson talking again? +Well, even the abortive parson was sometimes right.</p> + +<p>Cartmell clapped me on the shoulder. The handsome boy had, it appeared, +departed, after receiving from an obsequious porter the copy of <i>Country +Life</i>, in quest of which he had ridden to the station from Fillingford +Manor.</p> + +<p>"Here comes the train! I wonder if I shall know her again!"</p> + +<p>Two minutes later, that observation of Cartmell's seemed to me plainly +foolish. A man might like her or dislike her, trust her or not trust +her—oh, away with these fatal alternatives, antitheses, or whatever +they are! They confine judgment, and often falsify it. He might do all +these things at once—and I fancied that she might welcome his +perplexity. He would not be very likely to forget her—nor she to be +pleased if he did.</p> + +<p>That was only a first impression of her, as she got out of the train.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>MAKING AMENDS</h3> + + +<p>Cartmell's talk, as we drove back, was calculated to give her an almost +overwhelming idea of her possessions and (if her temperament set that +way) of her responsibilities. Big commercial buildings, blocks of shops, +whole streets of small houses, drew from the lawyer a point of the +finger and a brief, "That's yours"—or sometimes he would tell how her +father had bought, how built, and how profited by the venture. Every +time she would turn her head to look where his finger pointed, and nod +slightly, gravely, composedly. She seemed to be reserving her opinion of +it all. The only time she spoke was when we were emerging from the town +and he showed her Hatcham Ford, saying, as usual, "That's yours," but +adding that it was let furnished to Mr. Leonard Octon, who was abroad +just now. Then her nod of understanding was accompanied by a low murmur, +"It's very pretty."</p> + +<p>She said nothing when we drove into the park of Breysgate Priory itself: +yet I saw her eyes fixed intently on the great house on the hill, which +comes into view directly the drive is entered, and certainly looks +imposing enough. After the first formal greeting she did not speak to +me, nor I to her, until her reception at the house was over and we had +sat down to luncheon. But she had smiled at me once—when we were still +standing by the door, on the terrace at the top of the steps, and +Cartmell was showing her what he called "the lie of the land." The +omnibus with its pair of big horses and its pair of big men came +trotting up the hill, and on its big roof lay one small battered trunk. +Loft was waiting to give orders to his footmen for the disposal of her +luggage: when he saw the solitary and diminutive article, he advanced +and, with pronounced graciousness, received it from the omnibus himself. +She watched, and then gave me the smile that I have mentioned; evidently +Loft—or Loft in conjunction with that humble box—appealed to her sense +of humor.</p> + +<p>Cartmell was soon at his ease with her: he called her "My dear" twice +before we got to the sweets. The second time he apologized for taking +the liberty—on the first occasion, I suppose, the words slipped out +unnoticed by himself.</p> + +<p>"But I like it," she said. "My father spoke so warmly about you in his +letter."</p> + +<p>Cartmell looked at me for a moment; we neither of us knew of a letter.</p> + +<p>"He told me never to part with Mr. Cartmell because an honest lawyer was +worth his weight in gold."</p> + +<p>"I ride fourteen-seven," said Cartmell with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"And he said something about you, too," she added, looking at me, "but +perhaps I'd better not repeat that."</p> + +<p>"Shall I try to guess it?" I asked. "Did he say I was a scholar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But confoundedly conceited?"</p> + +<p>"No—well, not quite. Something like it, Mr. Austin. How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"It's what he use to say to me himself three times a week?"</p> + +<p>Her face had lit up in merriment during this little talk, but now she +grew thoughtful again. I might well have looked thoughtful, too; so far +as had appeared at present, there was no injunction against parting with +me—no worth-his-weight-in-gold appraisement of the secretary!</p> + +<p>"I expect he liked the scholar-and-gentleman part," she reflected. "He +wasn't at all a scholar himself, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"He'd had no time for that," said Cartmell.</p> + +<p>"Nor a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>It was an embarrassing question—from a daughter about her +father—addressed to Cartmell who owed him much and to me who had eaten +his bread. Besides—he was lying there in his room upstairs. Cartmell +faced the difficulty with simple directness.</p> + +<p>"He wasn't polished in manner; when he was opposed or got angry, he was +rough. But he was honest and straight, upright and just, kind and——"</p> + +<p>"Kind?" she interrupted, a note of indignation plain to hear in her +voice. "Not to me!"</p> + +<p>That was awkward again!</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Driver, for what may have been amiss he's made you the +best amends he could." He waved his arm as though to take in all the +great house in which we sat. "Handsome amends!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she assented—but her assent did not sound very hearty.</p> + +<p>A long silence followed—an uncomfortable silence. She was looking +toward the window, and I could watch her face unperceived. From our +first meeting I had been haunted by a sense of having seen her before, +but I soon convinced myself that this was a delusion. I had not seen +her, nor anyone like her (she was not at all like her father), in the +flesh, but I had seen pictures that were like her. Not modern pictures, +but sixteenth- or seventeenth-century portraits. Her hair was brown with +ruddy tips, her brows not arched but very straight, her nose fine-cut +and high, her mouth not large but her lips very red. Her chin was rather +long, and her face wore the smooth, almost waxy, pallor which the +pictures I was reminded of are apt to exhibit. Her eyes were so +pronounced and bright a hazel that, seeing them on a canvas, one might +have suspected the painter of taking a liberty with fact for the sake of +his composition.</p> + +<p>Cartmell broke the silence. "Since he wrote you a letter, may I venture +to ask—?" He stopped and glanced at me. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind +giving us five minutes to ourselves, Austin?"</p> + +<p>I thought the request not unnatural, and rose promptly from my chair. +But we had reckoned without our host—our new host.</p> + +<p>"Why do you tell him to go?" she demanded of Cartmell with a sudden +sharpness. "I don't ask him to go. I don't want him to go. Sit down, +please, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>Cartmell had his two elbows on the table; he bit his thumb as he glanced +up at her from under raised brows. He was not often called to book so +sharply as that. I thought that she would make apology, but she made +none. As I obediently—and, I fear, hastily—sat down again, she took a +letter from a little bag which hung at her waist.</p> + +<p>"What did you want to ask?" she said to Cartmell in a tone which was +smooth but by no means overconciliatory.</p> + +<p>Cartmell's manner said "Have it if you want it!" as he inquired bluntly, +"Does your father say anything about your mother?"</p> + +<p>She took the letter from its envelope and unfolded it. "About my mother +he says this: 'It is necessary for me to say a few words about your +mother. Mr. Cartmell is in possession of all proofs necessary to +establish your position as my daughter, and there is no need for you to +trouble your head about that, as not the smallest difficulty can arise. +The personal aspect of the case is that on which I must touch. Three +years after your birth your mother left me under circumstances which +made it impossible for me to have any further communication with her. +She went to Australia, and died five years later in Melbourne from an +attack of typhoid fever. I caused constant inquiry to be made as to her +position and took measures to secure that she should suffer no hardship. +The circumstances to which I have referred made it imperative that I +should remove you from her charge. As she consented to give up all claim +on you, I did not go to the trouble of obtaining a divorce—which she +did not desire either, as matters had been kept quiet. You will ask, and +with reason, why I did not bring you up myself, and why I have delayed +publicly acknowledging you as my daughter till the hour of my death. I +can give no reason good to the world. I can give none good to my own +conscience, unless it is a good one to say that a man is what God made +him and that there are some things impossible to some men. It will seem +a hard saying, but I could not endure to have you with me. I know +myself, and I can only assure you that, if your childhood has not been a +very happy one as it is, it would have been no happier if spent under my +roof. Now we have been only strangers—you would have been worse than a +stranger then.'"</p> + +<p>Miss Driver, who had read in a low but level and composed voice, paused +here for a moment—perhaps in doubt whether to read more. Then she went +on: "'With that much excuse—for I have none other—I must now, my +daughter, say good-by, for I am dying. Though of my own choice I have +not seen you since your infancy. I have not been without thought for +you. I hesitated long before throwing on your shoulders all the burden +which I have created for my own and carried on them. But in the end +nature has seemed to say to me—and to speak more strongly as I grow +weaker—that you are the person to whom it should belong and that, if +things go wrong, it will be nature's fault, not mine. Don't spend more +than two-thirds of your income—the other third should go back to work +and bring in more. Give handsomely when you give, but don't be always +dribbling out small sums; they mount up against you without aiding the +recipients. Go to church unless you really dislike it. Be independent, +but not eccentric. You have a great position; make it greater. Be a +power in your world. About love and marriage, remember always that being +sensible in general matters is no guarantee that you will act sensibly +there. So be doubly on your guard. Suspect and fear marriage, even while +you seek the best alliance you can find. Be you man or woman, by +marriage you give another a power over you. Suspect it—suspect your +lover—suspect yourself. You need fear no man except the man to whom you +have given yourself. With earnest wishes for your welfare, I remain your +affectionate father—<span class="smcap">Nicholas Driver</span>.'"</p> + +<p>During the reading Cartmell's face had been disturbed and sad; once or +twice he fidgeted restively in his chair. I had listened intently, +seeming again to hear the measured full voice, the hard clean-cut +counsels, to which I had listened almost daily for the last four years. +Fine sense! And a heart somewhere? I was inclined to answer yes—but how +deep it lay, and what a lot of digging to get there! He had never given +his daughter one chance of so much as putting her hand to the spade.</p> + +<p>She tucked the letter away in her little bag; she was smiling again by +now. I had smiled myself—my memories being so acutely touched; but she +must have smiled for discernment, not for memory.</p> + +<p>"Now I think I should like to go and see him."</p> + +<p>Cartmell excused himself, as I knew he would.</p> + +<p>"I've never seen him, that I can remember, you know," she said.</p> + +<p>The meeting of the Catsford Corporation (the town had become a borough +ten years before—largely owing to Mr. Driver's efforts) could not wait. +But Cartmell had one thing to say before he went; it was not on +business, nor arising out of the letter; he was to have a full business +discussion with her on the morrow. He took her hand in both of his and +pressed it—forgetful apparently of her sharp rebuke.</p> + +<p>"You can't live in this great house all alone," he said. "I wonder your +father said nothing about that!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right. Chat's coming in a week. She'd have come with me, +but Mrs. Simpson wouldn't let her go till a new governess could be got. +Four girls, you see, and Mrs. Simpson thinks she's an invalid. Besides, +Chat wouldn't come without a new black silk dress. So I had to give her +most of that money—and she'll be here in a week—and I haven't got a +new dress."</p> + +<p>I noticed that her black dress was far from new. It was, in fact, rather +rusty. Her black straw hat, however, appeared to be new. It was a large +spreading sort of hat.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Austin, the hat's new," she remarked.</p> + +<p>The girl seemed to have a knack of noticing where one's eyes happened to +be.</p> + +<p>"I can give you lots of money," Cartmell assured her. "And—er—'Chat' +was governess at the Simpsons', was she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's been there for years, but she's very fond of me, and agreed +to come and be my companion. She taught me all I know. I'm sure you'll +like Chat."</p> + +<p>"You can only try her," said he, rather doubtfully. I think that he +would have preferred, Miss Driver, to cut loose from the old days +altogether. "But, you know, we can't call her just 'Chat.' It must be +short for something?"</p> + +<p>"Short for Chatters—Miss Chatters. And she says Chatters is really—or +was really—Charteris. That's pronounced Charters, isn't it?" She +addressed the last question to me, and I said that I believed she was +right. "I shall get on very well by myself till she comes." She +questioned me again. "Do you live in the house?"</p> + +<p>"No, I live down at the Old Priory. But I have my office in the house."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Now, if Mr. Cartmell must go, will you take me up?"</p> + +<p>She stopped a moment, though, to look at the pictures—old Mr. Driver +had bought some good ones—and so gave me one word with Cartmell.</p> + +<p>"Depend upon it," he whispered. "Chat's a fool. People who keep telling +you their names ought to be spelt like better names, when they aren't, +are always fools. Why don't they spell 'em that way, or else let it +alone?"</p> + +<p>There seemed to be a good deal in that.</p> + +<p>Cartmell gone, we went together up the broad staircase which sprang from +the center of the hall. As we passed a chair, she took off her hat and +flung it down. The rich masses old brown hair, coiled about her head, +caught the sun of a bright spring afternoon; she ran swiftly and lightly +up the stairs. "Nice, soft, thick, carpet!" she remarked. I began to +perceive that she would enjoy the incidental luxuries of her new +position—and that she did enjoy the one great luxury—life. I fancied +that she enjoyed it enormously.</p> + +<p>We trod another "nice, soft, thick, carpet" for the length of a long +passage and came to his door. I opened it, let her pass in, and was +about to close it after her. But as we reached his room, a sudden shadow +of trouble or of fear had fallen upon her—grief it could hardly be.</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "Come in, too. Remember—he's a stranger."</p> + +<p>To be in the room with the dead seems to be itself a partaking of death; +it is at least, for a moment, a suspension of life. Yet the still +welcome is not unfriendly.</p> + +<p>She walked toward the bed alone, but in an instant beckoned to me to +follow her. She bent down and moved the covering. His broad strong face +looked resolute and brave as ever. It looked—to speak truth—as hard as +ever also.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were set on him; suddenly she caught hold of my hand; "Don't +go." I pressed her hand, for I heard her breathing quickly. I just +caught her next words: "He might have given me a chance!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>He might have given me a chance!</i>"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"I believe he was sorry about that at the end." She shook her head. +"He's given you a big chance now."</p> + +<p>She nodded, but absently. "How strange to—to be his doing—and he +there! And then—all this!" She let go my hand, took a step forward, +bent and kissed his brow quickly. "How cold!" she murmured and grasped +my hand tightly again. To my fancy she seemed surprised—and +relieved—that the sleeper did not stir.</p> + +<p>We were—as I say—out of the world; we were just two creatures, living +for a little while, by the side of a third who lived no more.</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't kiss him unless you forgive," I said.</p> + +<p>She kissed him again and drew the sheet over his face.</p> + +<p>"He must have been a fine man. I forgive. Come, let's go."</p> + +<p>Outside, the world was with us—and I wondering whether that was what I +had really said.</p> + +<p>At least she seemed to bear me no ill-will. "Are you free to come for a +walk?" she asked. "I should like some fresh air."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to see the gardens?"</p> + +<p>"No—that means pottering. Take me for a good spin."</p> + +<p>By a happy thought I remembered Tor Hill and took her there. The hill +lies at the extremity of the Priory park, looking down on the road which +separates our dominions from the Fillingford country; beyond the road +the Manor itself can be seen by glimpses through the woods which +surround it. Catsford lies in the valley to the left; away to the right, +but not in sight, lay Oxley Lodge, and Overington Grange, the seat of +Sir John Aspenick. Here she could take a bird's-eye view of her position +and that of her nearest neighbors.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see Fillingford," she remarked. "My father mentioned it—in +the earlier part of that letter. He said that he had wanted to buy it, +but Lord Fillingford couldn't or wouldn't sell."</p> + +<p>"His son's consent was necessary—that's the present man—and he +wouldn't give it. Indeed the story runs that he hated Mr. Driver for +trying to buy."</p> + +<p>She seemed to take as careful a view of Fillingford Manor as the +distance and the trees allowed.</p> + +<p>"My father seems to have been sorry he couldn't buy it. He seemed to +think it might still be sold."</p> + +<p>"Surely you've got enough! And, for my part, I should much prefer the +Priory. It's muggy down there in the valley—though I believe it's a +very fine house."</p> + +<p>"You've not been there?"</p> + +<p>"No. We of the Priory have had small dealings with Fillingford lately. +We've kept up the forms of civility—but it's been very distant. +Underneath, there's been a kind of silent feud—well, more or less +silent; but I daresay that'll be all over now."</p> + +<p>"My father wrote 'Possibly you in your way may succeed better than I in +mine.'"</p> + +<p>"Fillingford wouldn't sell. He's hard up, but he can get along. And +there's always the chance of a rich marriage for his son—or even for +himself."</p> + +<p>I really spoke without any thought of a personal reference, but I +perceived, directly afterward, that I might well seem to have made one; +a marriage with Miss Driver would be undoubtedly rich. She gave no sign, +however, of taking my remark in that sense, unless any inference can be +drawn from her saying, "Oh, he's a widower?"</p> + +<p>"He's a widower of forty, or a year or two more—and he's got a son of +about seventeen—a very good-looking lad. His sister, Lady Sarah Lacey, +keeps house for him, and according to local gossip is a bit of a shrew."</p> + +<p>She began to laugh as she said with a mock sigh, "One's too old for me, +and the other's too young—they must look somewhere else, I'm afraid! +And then—how should I get on with the shrew? I'm rather a shrew +myself—at least I've been told so."</p> + +<p>"You'd better let them alone," I counseled her with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I shan't do that," she rejoined with a decisiveness which I +began to recognize as an occasional feature of her speech. "It'll be +more amusing to see what they're like—presently. And what of the +Dormers? My father mentioned them."</p> + +<p>"A very nice old couple—but I fear he's failing."</p> + +<p>A slight grimace dismissed the Dormers as not holding much interest for +her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you won't want for neighbors. There are plenty of them, and they'll +all be tremendously excited about you and will flock to call as soon as +you can receive them."</p> + +<p>"It must seem funny to them. I suppose they'd never heard of me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe any of them had. Your father had no intimates, unless +Mr. Cartmell can be called one. Besides—well, I'd never heard of you +myself!"</p> + +<p>"And here we are old friends!" she said graciously.</p> + +<p>"That's very kind—but you mustn't think yourself bound to take over the +secretary with the rest of the furniture."</p> + +<p>She looked steadily in my face for several seconds, seeming to size me +up—if I may be allowed the expression. Then she smiled—not gayly, yet +again by no means sadly. It was the smile which I came to call later her +mystery smile; and, as a general rule, it meant—in plain +language—mischief. Of course, on this first day I did not attach these +associations to it. It struck me as merely rather curious; as a man +talks to himself, so she seemed to smile to herself, forgetting her +interlocutor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—stay and see how you like me," she said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>ON THE USE OF SCRAPES</h3> + + +<p>We were settling down. It was a week since the funeral. The borough and +the neighborhood had survived their first stupefaction at the apparition +of Miss Driver; the local journals had achieved their articles, organs +of wider circulation and greater dignity their paragraphs; the charities +which received legacies had given thanks, those which did not were +turning resigned but hopeful eyes to the future. The undertaker sent in +his bill, and the Town Council discussed the project of a Driver +Memorial Hall—with a hardly disguised anticipation of the quarter from +which the bulk of the money was to come.</p> + +<p>There was really not much more to do till Miss Driver's first days of +mourning were over, and the fascinating speculations as to her personal +gifts and qualities could look to find some satisfaction from her +appearances on public and private occasions. Only Cartmell still +was—and would be for weeks—busy on the labors attendant on the +transfer of a great estate, and the rearrangements necessitated by the +loss of an able and experienced man—a masterly worker—and the +succession of a girl ignorant of business. For the rest we were, as I +say, settling down. Even Cartmell's activity caused us at Breysgate no +sense of bustle, for it took him to London the day after the funeral and +kept him there for above a fortnight.</p> + +<p>When I say that "we" were settling down I mean the trio formed by Miss +Driver, myself—and Miss Emily Chatters. It is my duty to introduce Miss +Chatters with proper formality, and I will introduce her presently—but +let us take people in their order. Miss Driver had inspected her +property (except the wine cellar which, to Loft's dismay, she declined +to enter); she had chosen her own set of rooms and given orders for them +to be entirely refurnished; she had announced her intention—and small +blame to her—of extending the refurnishing process to all the +sitting-rooms—at least to the sitting-rooms; she had chosen her own +hack from the stables—and I have no doubt that she had done what was +immediately requisite as regards her wardrobe. At any rate, an air of +achievement dwelt about her. For my part I performed my duties, and +began to find that I had less work to do—and more time occupied in +doing it. In Mr. Driver's day we worked as few men except Mr. Driver +understood work from ten to one; then, as a rule, I was free. Under the +new <i>régime</i> we worked at a gentler pressure—a much gentler +pressure—for the same morning hours; but I stayed to lunch always, I +came back to tea frequently, and I returned to dinner two or three +evenings in the week. My duties as secretary grew lighter, but I seemed +to be assuming the functions of a companion. I may do myself the +incidental justice of saying that I rather resented this tendency to +transform my office; but it was not easy to resist. She was paying for +my whole time as her father had paid for it; it was her right, within +wide limits, to say to what uses it should be put. Or—I could go. The +liberty—perhaps it is rather theoretical—of "chucking my job" remained +to me as to every free-born Englishman—who sees his way to getting +another whereby to live. Not that I wished to surrender mine; I was +interested and—to tell the truth—I grew, within our jurisdiction, +important. She approached the assumption of her power cautiously, and at +first would return almost any answer to almost any letter at my +suggestion. I did not expect this to last, but so it was for the moment. +For instance it was I, in ultimate reality, who offered that ten +thousand pounds toward the Memorial Hall. I had a great difficulty in +fixing the proper figure. If I may judge from the language employed by +the Mayor (Councillor Bindlecombe) in public, I exceeded all possible +anticipations of munificence; in private, I am told, he confessed to +having entertained a hope of fifteen thousand. I imagine that my figure +was not, on a balancing of considerations, far wide of the mark. +Cartmell thought five thousand would have served—but old Cartmell was a +screw with other people's money. I remembered "Give handsomely when you +give." So, I think, did Jenny Driver. All the same, Bindlecombe did, in +my opinion, open his mouth a bit too wide.</p> + +<p>Miss Chatters came two days after the funeral—in the new black silk +dress: it rustled powerfully. She was tall, had pale-brown hair with a +broad parting in the middle, a very long inquiring nose, faded blue +eyes, an absolutely flat chin, and—inconceivable gentility. If we +others were settling she settled far quicker. She took the bedroom next +to Jenny Driver's; she annexed a small sitting-room for her own—next +but one to Jenny Driver's; she had a glass of the best port every day at +eleven. ("She came down to the cellar and chose the bin herself, sir," +Loft informed me with a wry smile of grudge for his dearest +possessions.) Yet all these acts of proprietorship—for they pretty +nearly came to that—were performed with a meekness, a deprecation, a +ladylikeness (I can find no other word) that made opposition seem unkind +and criticism ungenerous. It was only "Poor Chat!" She had a habit of +talking to Jenny in a kind of baby-language, and used to refer to +herself as "Poor Chat." "Poor Chat doesn't know!" "Poor Chat's not +wise!" Also she did keep talking about her name and the respectability +of her descent. In fact she was a woman of a number of silly +affectations and one or two exasperating foibles, and Cartmell never +varied from his impromptu judgment—expressed before he had seen +her—that she was a fool. It is my deliberate opinion that she wished to +be thought more of a fool than she was—partly from an idea that little +sillinesses and affectations were genteel, partly with the notion that +they were disarming. She seemed always bent on showing you that she was +not the sort of person from whom any opposition need be feared, nor any +undue exercise of influence apprehended. It could only be supposed that +she had found this line of conduct useful in her relations toward her +employers; by contrast it flattered both their superior brains and their +superior positions. I allow for her natural taste, for her standards of +gentility. But she was a snob, too, "Poor Chat," and a time-server.</p> + +<p>No harder words than those need be used about her—and they are too hard +perhaps; for there is one thing to be said on the other side—and it is +a thing of weight. Chat was fifty; as a governess she was hopelessly out +of date; I do not suppose that she saw her daily bread secure for three +months ahead. For a hundred pounds a year certain—secure from the +caprice of employers or of fate—she would probably have done or been +anything—even, so far as she could, honest.</p> + +<p>But honesty alone, as she may well have reflected, does not breed +security of tenure in subordinate positions. I am far from saying that +it ought; on the whole I consider it to be a commoner, and therefore a +cheaper and more easily obtainable—and replaceable—commodity than +either a good brain or an agreeable demeanor. At any rate how easily it +may come near to costing a man his place I was very soon to discover by +my own experience. Well, perhaps, to honesty I ought to add a lack of +diplomacy and a temper naturally hot. But I am not sure: I cannot see +how any man could have done anything very different—given that he was +barely honest.</p> + +<p>"There's a person in the drawing-room with the ladies, sir," said Loft +one day when I came up to tea at four o'clock.</p> + +<p>Loft's social terminology was exact. When he said a "person" he did not +mean a "gentleman"—who was a gentleman—nor a "man"—who was a member +of the definitely lower orders of the community; he meant somebody in +between, one of the doubtful cases.</p> + +<p>"A Mr. Powers, sir. He's been here perhaps half an hour."</p> + +<p>It may readily be supposed that I had not forgotten the name of Powers; +the name and the incident were irrevocably—and uncomfortably—fixed in +my mind. This "person" might not be the same Powers, but in overwhelming +probability he was. Even if Jenny had not been in communication with +him—and I did not believe that she had—the paragraphs would easily +have brought about this visit—or visitation. He came scenting prey—he +had read of the heiress! But why had she let him in?</p> + +<p>"Did he give you a card, Loft?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I took it in, and Miss Driver told me to ask the person to +come in."</p> + +<p>If it were not material, neither was it necessary to ask what Loft +thought about the matter. Plainly Mr. Powers was not up to his standard +for drawing-room visitors.</p> + +<p>"Have you got the card?"</p> + +<p>He took it from the hall table. "Mr. Nelson Powers." There was no +address.</p> + +<p>"All right, Loft. But before I join them, I want to telephone to +London." Of course Mr. Driver had installed a telephone, and many a day +we had kept it very busy.</p> + +<p>By luck I got into speedy communication with Cartmell at his hotel. He +heard my news. His answer was to the point: "Kick him out."</p> + +<p>"But if I try to do that, it gives you away. You're not supposed to have +told me."</p> + +<p>"Then give me away," came back instantly. "Only get him out. He's a +dangerous rascal—and not fit for any decent man or woman to talk to. +How in Heaven's name she can——"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she's frightened," I pleaded. He answered only "Kick him out," +and cut off communication.</p> + +<p>She did not look at all frightened when I went in. She was standing +opposite Powers, smiling gayly and mischievously. Powers was apparently +just taking his leave. So much gained! I determined to go to the hall +with him and give him a hint, on Cartmell's behalf, that he need not +come again. But things were not to be as easy as that.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, we shall see you at eight o'clock," said Jenny, giving him +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Delighted," said he, bowing low. "Good afternoon. Good afternoon, Miss +Chatters." Chat was sitting by, tatting. She habitually tatted.</p> + +<p>"This is my old friend Mr. Nelson Powers," said Jenny. "Mr. Powers—Mr. +Austin." We bowed—neither of us cordially. The man's eyes were wary and +very alert; he looked at me as though I might be a policeman in plain +clothes; possibly my expression gave him some excuse.</p> + +<p>Jenny rang the bell. "Mr. Powers is coming back to dinner. You'll come, +of course? We shall have a pleasant little party of four!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, but I'm engaged to dinner to-night."</p> + +<p>Jenny gave me a quick look, Chat gave me a long one. Loft appeared. "<i>Au +revoir</i>, Mr. Powers!" With a pronounced bow over his hat Powers was out +of the room. I made no effort to follow. Jenny's face told me that the +battle was to be fought where we were.</p> + +<p>She poured out a cup of tea and gave it to me. Then, as she sat down, +she said, "I'm sorry you can't come to-night. Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>I did not want Chat there—but I remembered what happened to Cartmell +when he did not want me there.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going anywhere," I said.</p> + +<p>Her pallid face flushed a little, but she smiled. Chat looked at her and +got up; no, Chat was not altogether a fool! "Yes, please, Chat," said +Jenny very quietly. Chat left us. I finished my tea—it was cold, and +easy to gulp down—and waited for the storm.</p> + +<p>"You've nothing to add to your polite excuses?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Does that gentleman come from Cheltenham?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, from Cheltenham, Mr. Austin. But how did you come to know that? +Did my father mention him?" She was not embarrassed—only very angry.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"It was Mr. Cartmell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He had no right, I daresay, but I'm glad he did—and so will he +be."</p> + +<p>"If both my solicitor and my secretary are glad—!" She broke off with a +scornful laugh. "I'm not going to discuss the matter with you, but I +like people who are about me to receive my invitations with politeness."</p> + +<p>"This isn't easy for me, Miss Driver, but—that man oughtn't to come to +this house. He oughtn't to be allowed to see you."</p> + +<p>She rose from her chair, her eyes set unmovingly on my face. Her voice +was low. "How dare you say that? How dare you? Am I to take orders from +you—my secretary—my servant?"</p> + +<p>"You called me your friend the other day."</p> + +<p>"I seem to have been hasty. A kind friend indeed to listen to stories +against me!"</p> + +<p>"The story is against the man—not against you."</p> + +<p>"Are you dining with any other friends to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I've told you that I'm not."</p> + +<p>"Then I request—I desire—that you will make it convenient to give me +the pleasure of your company—to meet my friend, Mr. Powers."</p> + +<p>My temper went suddenly. "I won't sit at meat with the blackguard—above +all, not in your company."</p> + +<p>I saw her fist clench itself by her side. "I repeat my request," she +said.</p> + +<p>"I repeat my refusal, but I can do no less than offer you my +resignation."</p> + +<p>"You won't accept my offer—but I accept yours very gladly."</p> + +<p>"It will be kind of you to relieve me from my duties as soon as +possible."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow." She turned her back on me and walked off to the window. I +stood there a minute, and then went to the door. She turned round, and +our eyes met. I waited for a moment, but she faced round to the window +again, and I went out.</p> + +<p>I walked quickly down the hill. I was very unhappy, but I was not +remorseful. I knew that another man could have done the thing much +better, but it had been the right thing to do and I had done it as well +as I could. She had made no attempt to defend Powers, nor to deny what +she must have known that Cartmell had said about him. Yet, while tacitly +admitting that he was a most obnoxious description of blackguard, she +asked him to dinner—and ordered me to sit by and see them together. If +her service entailed that sort of thing, then indeed there must be an +end to service with her. But grieved as I was that this must be so—and +the blow to me was heavy on all grounds, whether of interest or of +feeling—I grieved more that she should sit with him herself than that +she bade me witness what seemed in my eyes her degradation. What was the +meaning of it? I was at that time nowhere near understanding her.</p> + +<p>My home was no more than a cottage, built against the south wall of the +Old Priory. The front door opened straight into my parlor, without hall +or vestibule; a steep little stair ran up from the corner of the room +itself and led to my bedroom on the floor above. Behind my parlor lay +the kitchen and two other rooms, occupied by my housekeeper, Mrs. Field, +and her husband, who was one of the gardeners. It was all very small, +but it was warm, snug, and homely. The walls were covered almost +completely with my books, which overflowed on to chairs and tables, too. +When fire and lamp were going in the evening, the little room seemed to +glow with a studious cheerfulness, and my old leather arm-chair wooed me +with affectionate welcome. In four years I had taken good root in my +little home. I had to uproot myself—to-morrow.</p> + +<p>With this pang, there came suddenly one deeper. I was about to +lose—perforce—what was now revealed to me as a great, though a very +new, interest in my life. From the first both Cartmell and I had been +keenly interested in the heiress—the lonely girl who came to reign over +Breysgate and to dispose of those millions of money. We had both, I +think, been touched with a certain romantic, or pathetic, element in the +situation. We had not talked about it, much less had we talked about +what we felt ourselves or about what we meant to do; but it had grown +into a tacit understanding between us that more than our mere paid +services were due from us to Jenny Driver. No man had been very near her +father, but we had been nearest; we did not mean that his daughter +should be without friends if she would accept friendship. Nay, I think +we meant a little more than that. She was young and ignorant; Nick +Driver's daughter might well be willful and imperious. We meant that she +should not easily escape our service and our friendship; they should be +more than offered; they should be pressed; if need be, they should be +secretly given. It had been an honest idea of ours—but it seemed hard +to work in practice. Such service as I could give was ended well-nigh +before it had begun. I thought it only too likely that Cartmell's also +would soon end, save, at least, for strictly professional purposes. And +I could not see how this end was to be avoided in his case any more than +it had been found possible to avoid it in mine. With the best will in +the world, there were limits. "Some things are impossible to some men," +old Mr. Driver had said in that letter; it had been impossible to me—as +it would, I think, have been to most men—to see Powers welcomed by her +as a gentleman and a friend.</p> + +<p>Yet I began almost to be sorry—almost to ask why I had not swallowed +Powers and accepted the invitation to dinner. Might I, in that way, have +had a better chance of getting rid of Powers in the end? It would have +been a wrong thing to do—I was still quite clear about that—wrong in +every way, and very disgusting, to boot; quite fatal to my self-respect, +and an acquiescence in a horrible want of self-respect in Jenny. But I +might have been useful to her. Now I could be of no use. That evening I +first set my feet on what I may perhaps call a moral slope. It looked a +very gentle slope; there did not appear to be any danger in it; it did +not look as though you could slip on it or as if it would be difficult +to recover yourself if slip you did. But, in fact, at the bottom of that +moral slope—which grew steeper as it descended—lay a moral precipice. +Nothing less can I call the conclusion that anything which might be +useful to Jenny Driver became, by the mere force of that possible +utility, morally right—conduct, so to speak, becoming to an officer and +a gentleman. I was not, of course, at all aware that my insidious +doubt—or, rather, my puzzling discontent with myself—could lead to any +such chasm as that.</p> + +<p>I ate my chop and tried to settle down to my books. First I tried +theology, the study of which I had by no means abandoned. But I was not +theologically inclined that night. Then I took up a magazine; politics +emphatically would not do! I fell back on anthropology, and got on there +considerably better. Yet presently my attention wandered even from that. +I sat with the book open before me, at a page where three members of the +Warramunga tribe were represented in adornments that, on an ordinary +evening, would have filled me with admiration. No, I was languid about +it. The last thing I remembered was hearing the back door locked—which +meant that the Fields were going to bed. After that I fail to trace +events, but I imagine that I speedily fell sound asleep—with the book +open before me and my pipe lying by it on the table.</p> + +<p>I awoke with a little shiver, pretended to myself that I had never +stopped reading, gave up the pretence, pushed back my chair from the +table, rose, and turned to the fire behind me.</p> + +<p>In my old leather arm-chair sat Jenny Driver.</p> + +<p>She wore a black evening dress, with a cloak of brown fur thrown open in +front—both, no doubt, new acquisitions. The fire had died down to a +small heap of bright red embers. When first I saw her, she was crouching +close over it—the night was chilly—and her face was red with its glow.</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver! I—I'm afraid I've been asleep," I stammered. "Have you +been here long?"</p> + +<p>She glanced at the clock; it was half-past ten. "About twenty minutes. +I've had a good look round—at your room, and your books, and that queer +picture which seems to have sent you to sleep. Your room's very +comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a jolly little room," I agreed. "But what——?"</p> + +<p>"And I've had a good look at you, too," she continued. "Do you know, Mr. +Austin, you're really rather handsome?"</p> + +<p>"I daresay I look my best by lamplight," I suggested, smiling.</p> + +<p>"No, really I think you are—in the thin ascetic style. I like +that—anyhow for a change. Well, I wanted a word with you, so I waited +till Chat went to bed, and then slipped down."</p> + +<p>It was on the tip of my tongue to observe that it was rather late; but a +smile on Jenny's lips somehow informed me that she expected just such an +objection. So I said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Chat and I are going to London to-morrow—to shop. Perhaps we may go on +to Paris. I thought you might like to say good-by."</p> + +<p>"That's very kind of you. I'm glad we're not to part in—well, as we +parted this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"If you regretted that, you might have done something to prevent it. +Light your pipe again; you'll be able to think better—and I want you to +think a little."</p> + +<p>I obeyed her direction, she sitting for the moment silent. I came and +stood opposite to her, leaning my elbow on the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>"When I first knew Mr. Powers, I was sixteen, and I'd been with the +Smalls since I was eleven. You didn't get very discriminating, living +with the Smalls. I met him at a subscription dance: I didn't know +anything about his wife. He was clerk to an architect, or surveyor, or +something of that sort. I met him a good many times afterwards—for +walks. He was good-looking in his way, and he said he was in love with +me. I fell in love with him and, when I couldn't get away to meet him, I +wrote letters. Then I heard about the wife—and I wrote more letters. +You know the sort—very miserable, and, I suppose, very silly—that I +didn't know what to do, only the world was over for me—and so on. You +can imagine the sort of letter. And I saw him—once or twice. He told me +that he was in great trouble; he'd been racing and playing cards and +couldn't pay; he'd be shown up, and lose his place—and what would +become of his wife and child? I flared up and said that I was the last +person who was likely to care about his wife and child. Then he +suggested that I should get money from my father—he knew all about my +father—by saying that I was in some trouble. I told him I couldn't +possibly; I was never allowed to write and should only get an answer +from a lawyer if I did—and certainly no money. He persisted—and I +persisted. He threatened vaguely what he could do. I told him to do as +he liked—that I'd done with him for good. I never wrote again—and I +never saw him till to-day."</p> + +<p>"When you asked him to dinner!"</p> + +<p>She smiled, but took no more heed. "Well, I was in a scrape, wasn't I? I +saw that clearly—rather a bad scrape. I didn't see what to do, though I +did a lot of thinking. Being in a scrape does teach one to think, +doesn't it? Then suddenly—when I was at my wits' end—it flashed across +me that possibly it might all have happened for the best. My great +object all through my girlhood was, somehow or other, to get into touch +with my father. I believed that, if I could get a fair chance, I could +win him over and persuade him to let me pay him a visit—even live with +him perhaps. That was my great dream—and I was prepared to go through a +lot for the hope of it. Well, it didn't come off. I don't know what Mr. +Powers did—but it was not my father who came, it was Mr. Cartmell. I +was taken away from the Smalls, but not allowed to come here. I was sent +to the Simpsons. My father never wrote one word, good or bad, to me. Mr. +Cartmell gave me a lecture. I didn't mind that. I was so furious with +him for coming that I didn't care a straw what he said."</p> + +<p>"His coming upset your brilliant idea?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—that time. One can't always succeed. Still it's wonderful how +often a scrape can be turned to account, if you think how to use it. +You're in a corner: that sharpens your brains; you hit on something."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it does. You seem to speak from experience."</p> + +<p>"Well, nobody means to get into them, of course, but you get drawn on. +It's fun to see how far you can go—and what other people will do, and +so on."</p> + +<p>"Rather dangerous!"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps that's part of the fun. By the by, I suppose I might get +into a little scrape if I stayed here much longer. Chat would be very +shocked—Loft, too, I expect!"</p> + +<p>"It is getting on for eleven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Yes." She rose and drew her cloak round her. "Mr. Powers didn't come to +dinner," she said. "On reflection, I wrote to him and told him that it +was better not to renew our acquaintance, and that he must accept that +as my final decision."</p> + +<p>"That's something gained, anyhow," said I, with a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Something gained for you?" she asked quickly and suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I was thinking of myself at the moment."</p> + +<p>She looked at me closely. "No, I don't think you were—and there's no +real reason why it should make any difference to you. Well, that depends +on yourself! Mr. Powers is of no consequence one way or the other. The +question is—are we two to try and get on together."</p> + +<p>"I got on with your father," said I.</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell my father what he was to do and not to do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sometimes—in social matters. It may surprise you to hear it, but +your father was always ready to learn things that other people could +tell him."</p> + +<p>"Well, here are my concessions. Never mind what I said this afternoon—I +was in a rage. I won't call you a servant again; I won't make you come +to dinner when you don't want to; I won't demand that you meet my +friends if you don't want to."</p> + +<p>"That's very kind and handsome of you."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute. Now for my side. Mr. Austin, if you're not a servant +here, neither are you a master. Oh, I know, you disclaim any such idea, +but still—think over this afternoon! You can't stay here as a master. I +daresay you think I want a master. I don't think so. If I do, I suppose +I can marry!"</p> + +<p>"For my own part I venture to hope you will marry—soon and very +happily."</p> + +<p>"But my father? 'Suspect and fear marriage.' 'You need fear no man +except the man to whom you have given yourself.'"</p> + +<p>"Your father's experience was, you know, unhappily not fortunate."</p> + +<p>Her face clouded to melancholy. "I don't believe mine would be," she +murmured. Then she raised her voice again and smiled. "Neither servant +nor master—but friend, Mr. Austin?" And she held out her hand to me.</p> + +<p>"I accept most heartily, and I'll try to keep the bargain." I put out my +hand to take hers, but, as if on a sudden thought, she drew hers back.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment still. What do you mean by a friend? One who likes me, +has my happiness at heart?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Gives me the best advice he can, speaking his mind honestly, without +fear and in friendship?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>A touch of mockery in her eyes warned me neither to take the questions +too seriously nor to make my answers too grave. The mockery crept into +her tone with the next interrogation.</p> + +<p>"When I don't take his advice and get into a scrape, says, 'I told you +so. I'm all right—you get out of your scrape in the best way you can?'"</p> + +<p>"Call me no friend when I say that," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she whispered and gave me the hand which she before had withdrawn. +"Now really!" she cried gayly, with a glance at the clock. "You go back +to sleep—I have to get ready for a journey. No, don't come with me. +I'll run up to the house by myself. Good night, my—friend!"</p> + +<p>I opened the door for her, answering, "Good night." But she had one more +word for me before she went, turning her face to me, merry with a smile +and twinkling eyes—</p> + +<p>"I suppose you haven't got a wife anywhere, have you, Mr. Austin?" She +ran off, not waiting for an answer.</p> + +<p>The appearance of Mr. Powers had not cost me my place: but it had +defined my position—to Jenny's complete satisfaction! It had also +elicited from her some interesting observations on the value of +scrapes—the place they hold in life, and how a man—or woman—may turn +them to account. I felt that I knew Jenny better for our quarrel and our +talk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>AN UNPOPULAR MAN</h3> + + +<p>Miss Driver stayed away longer than her words had led me to expect. +London and Paris—the names are in themselves explanation enough. The +big world was entirely new to Jenny; though she could not yet +take—shall I say storm?—her place in society, much instruction, and +more amusement, lay open to her grasp even in the days of her obligatory +mourning. On the other hand that same period could not but be very +tedious to her if passed at Breysgate. In regard to her father's memory +she felt a great curiosity and displayed a profound interest; for the +man himself she could have had little affection and could entertain no +real grief; in fact, though she professed and tried to forgive, she +never shook herself quite clear of resentment, even though she, if +anybody, ought to have come nearest to understanding his stern resolve. +That nobody should ever again come so near to him, or become so much to +him, as to be able sorely to wound him—that was how I read his +determination. Jenny ought to have been able to arrive at some +appreciation of that. I think she did—but she protested in her heart +that his daughter should have been the one exception. No good lay in +going back to the merits of that question. In the result they had +been—strangers: her mourning, then, was a matter of propriety, not the +true demand of her feelings. Viewed in this light, London and Paris, +surveyed from the decent obscurity of a tourist, offered a happy +compromise—and bridged a yawning gulf—between duty and the endurable.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Great Seal was in Commission; Cartmell, Loft, and I +administered the Kingdom—Cartmell Foreign Affairs, Loft the Interior, I +the Royal Cabinet. Cartmell's sphere was the largest by far—all the +business both of the estate and of the various commercial interests; +Loft's territory was merely the house, but his sense of importance +magnified the weight of his functions; to me fell such of Miss Driver's +work as she did not choose to transact herself. In fact I was kept +pretty busy and was in constant communication with her. In reply to my +letters I received a few notes—very brief ones—and many +telegrams—very decisive ones. As I expected, it was not long before she +took the reins into her own hands. In matters of business she always +knew her mind—even if she did not always tell it; indecision was +reserved for another department. But neither in notes, nor in telegrams +did she disclose anything of her doings, except that she was well and +enjoying herself.</p> + +<p>So time rolled on; we came to the month of June—and to the Flower Show. +The great annual festivity of the Catsford Horticultural and +Arboricultural Association had always, of recent years, been held in the +grounds of Breysgate Priory, and at the Mayor's request (Councillor +Bindlecombe was also President of the Association) I had obtained Miss +Driver's consent to the continuance of this good custom. In Jenny's +absence the Show was to be opened by Lady Sarah Lacey. I have mentioned +that no open rupture had taken place between Fillingford and +Breysgate—there was only a very chilly feeling. Lady Sarah came, with +her brother Lord Fillingford and his son. Sir John and Lady Aspenick +from Overington Grange, the Dormers from Hingston, Bertram Ware—our +M.P.—from Oxley Lodge, and many others—in fact all one side of the +county—graced the occasion, mingled affably with the elect of Catsford, +and made themselves distantly agreeable to the non-elect. (This +statement does not, for obvious reasons, apply in all its exactitude to +the M.P. If the bulk of the male guests were not elect, they were +electors.) Everybody was hospitably entertained, but there was a Special +Table, where, in years gone by, Mr. Driver himself had welcomed the most +distinguished guests. His death and his daughter's absence—I fear I +must add, Cartmell's also (he would have taken place of me, I +think)—elevated me to this august position. In fact I had to play host, +and so came for the first time into social relations with our august +neighbors. I was not without alarm.</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah questioned me about Jenny with polite but hostile curiosity. +Her inquiries contrived to suggest that, with such a father and such a +childhood, it would be wonderful if Miss Driver had really turned out as +well as Lady Sarah hoped. I was not surprised, and set the attitude down +to a natural touch of jealousy: between the two ladies titular +precedence and solid power would very likely not coincide. Lord +Fillingford talked to the Mayor—who sat between him and me—with a +defensively dignified reserve. He was slightly built, and walked rather +stiffly; he wore small whiskers, and inclined to baldness. Indisputably +a gentleman, he seemed to be afflicted with an unreasonable idea that +other people would not remember what he was; a good man, no doubt, and +probably a sensible one, but with no gift for popularity. His handsome +son easily eclipsed him there. At this time young Lacey was bordering on +eighteen; he out-topped his father in stature as in grace. He was a +singularly attractive boy with a hearty gayety, a flow of talk, and an +engaging conviction that everybody wanted to listen. Childless old Mrs. +Dormer was delighted to listen, to feast her eyes on his comeliness, and +to pet him to any extent he desired.</p> + +<p>As a whole the company was a little stiff, and the joints of +conversation rather in want of oiling, until they struck on that most +fruitful and sympathetic subject—a common dislike. The victim was our +neighbor and tenant at Hatcham Ford, Leonard Octon. I knew him, for he +had been something of a friend of old Mr. Driver's, and had been +accorded free leave to walk as he pleased in the park; I had +understood—and could well understand—that he was not generally liked, +but never before had I realized the sum of his enormities. He had, it +seemed, offended everybody. Charitable young Lacey did indeed qualify +the assertion that he was a "bounder" by the admission that he was +afraid of nobody and could shoot. All the other voices spoke utter +condemnation. He had got at odds with town, county, and church. His +opinions were considered detestable, his manners aggressive. On various +occasions of controversy he had pointed out to the Rector of Catsford +that the pulpit was not of necessity a well of truth, to the Mayor that +a gilt chain round his neck had no effect on the stuff inside a man's +head, to Sir John Aspenick that one might understand horses and fail to +understand anything else, to a large political meeting that of all laws +mob-law was the worst, to Lord Fillingford that the rule of intelligence +(to which Octon wished to revert) was no more the rule of country +gentlemen than of their gardeners—perhaps not so much—and so on. These +outrages were not narrated by the victims of them: they were recalled by +sympathetic questions and reminders, each man tickling the other's +wound. It could not be denied that they made up a sad catalogue of +social crimes.</p> + +<p>"The fellow may think what he likes, but he needn't tread on all our +toes," Sir John complained.</p> + +<p>"A vulgar man!" observed Lady Sarah with an acid finality.</p> + +<p>Here, somewhat to my surprise, Fillingford opposed. He was a dry man, +but a just one, and not even against an enemy should more than truth be +said.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think he's that. His incivility is aggressive, even rough +sometimes, but I shouldn't call it vulgar. I don't know what you think, +Mr. Mayor, but it seems to me that vulgarity can hardly exist without +either affectation in the man himself or cringing to others. Now Octon +isn't affected and he never cringes."</p> + +<p>Bindlecombe was a sensible man, and himself—if Fillingford's definition +stood—not vulgar.</p> + +<p>"You know better than I do, Lord Fillingford," he said. "But I should +call him a gentleman spoiled—and perhaps that's a bit different."</p> + +<p>"Meant for a gentleman, perhaps?" suggested Lady Aspenick, a pretty thin +woman of five-and-thirty, who looked studious and wore double glasses, +yet was a mighty horsewoman and whip withal.</p> + +<p>I liked her suggestion. "Really, I believe that's about it," I made bold +to remark. "He is meant for a gentleman, but he's rather perverse about +it."</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah looked at me with just an involuntary touch of surprise. I do +not think that, in the bottom of her heart, she expected me to +speak—unless, of course, spoken to.</p> + +<p>"I intensely dislike both his manners and his opinions—and what I hear +of his character," she observed.</p> + +<p>"I mean," Lady Aspenick pursued, "that he's been to so many queer +places, and must have seen such queer things——"</p> + +<p>"And done 'em, if you ask my opinion," interposed her husband.</p> + +<p>"That he may have got—what? Rusty? Well, something like that. I +mean—forgotten how to treat people. He seems to put everybody down as +an enemy at first sight! Well, I'm irritable myself!"</p> + +<p>Bertram Ware joined in for the first time. "At the clubs they say he's +really a slave-driver in Central Africa, and comes over here when the +scent gets too hot after him."</p> + +<p>"Really," said Lady Sarah, "it sounds exceedingly likely. But if he +teaches his slaves to copy his manners, they'll get some good +floggings."</p> + +<p>"That's what the fellow wants himself," growled unappeasable Sir John.</p> + +<p>"You take it on, Johnny," counseled young Lacey. "He's only a foot +taller and four stone heavier than you are. You take it on! It'd be a +very sporting event."</p> + +<p>This extract—it is no more—from our conversation will show that it was +going on swimmingly. In the pursuit of a common prey we were developing +a sense of comradeship which leveled barriers and put us at our ease +with one another. No doubt our nascent cordiality would have sprung to +fuller life—but it suffered a sudden check.</p> + +<p>"Well, how have you all got on without me?" said a voice behind my +chair.</p> + +<p>I turned round with a start. The man himself stood there, his great +height and breadth overshadowing me. His face was bronzed under his +thick black hair; his mouth wore a wicked smile as his keen eyes ranged +round the embarrassed table. He had heard the last part of Lacey's +joking challenge to Aspenick.</p> + +<p>"What's Sir John Aspenick got to take on? What's the event?"</p> + +<p>The general embarrassment grew no less—but then it had never existed in +young Lacey. He raised his fearless fresh blue eyes to the big man.</p> + +<p>"To give you a thrashing," he said.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Octon, "I'm too old. I'm not like you." Lacey flushed +suddenly. "And perhaps I'm a bit too big—and you're hardly that yet, +are you?"</p> + +<p>Perhaps he was too big! I noticed again his wonderful hands. They were +large beyond reasonable limits of size, but full of muscle—no fat. They +were restless too—always moving as if they wanted to be at work; if the +work were to strangle a bull, I could imagine their being well pleased. +He might need a thrashing—but, sturdy as the sons of Catsford were, +there was none in the park that day who could have given him one.</p> + +<p>Young Lacey was very red. I was a little uneasy as to what he would say +or do; Fillingford saved the situation. He stood up and offered his hand +to Octon, saying, "We're always glad to welcome a neighbor safely back. +I hope your trip was prosperous?"</p> + +<p>It was the right thing wrongly said—at least, inadequately said. It was +civil, not cordial. They made a contrast, these men. Fillingford was too +negative, Octon too positive. One defended where none attacked, the +other attacked where no offense had been given. Unnecessary reserve +against uncalled-for aggression! Fillingford was not popular—Octon was +hated. Octon did not mind the hatred—did Fillingford feel the lack of +liking? His reserve baffled me: I could not tell. With all Octon's +faults, friendship with him seemed easier—and more attractive. The path +might be rough—but the gate was not locked.</p> + +<p>"Sure, Mr. Austin, it's time for the prizes?" said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>It was not time, but I hastily said that it was, and with some relief +escorted her to the platform. The rest followed, after, I suppose, a +formal greeting to the unwelcome Prodigal; he himself did not come with +us.</p> + +<p>When Lady Sarah had distributed the prizes, I made a little speech on my +chief's behalf—a speech of welcome to county and to town. Fillingford +replied first, his speech was like himself—proper, cold, composed. Then +Bindlecombe got up, mopping his forehead—the Mayor was apt to get +hot—but making no mean appearance with his British solidity of figure, +his shrewd face, and his sturdy respect for the office he exercised by +the will of his fellow-citizens.</p> + +<p>"My lords, ladies, and gentlemen—as Mayor of Catsford I have just one +word to say on behalf of the borough. We thank the generous lady who has +welcomed us here to-day. We look forward to welcoming her when she's +ready for us. All Catsford men are proud of Nicholas Driver. He did a +great deal for us—maybe we did something for him. He wasn't a man of +words, but he was proud of the borough as the borough was proud of him. +From what I hear, I think we shall be proud of Miss Driver, too—and I +hope she'll be proud of the borough as her father was before her. We +wish her long life and prosperity."</p> + +<p>Bravo, Bindlecombe! But Lady Sarah looked astonishingly sour. There was +something almost feudal in the relationship which the Mayor's words +suggested. Jenny as Overlord of Catsford would not be to Lady Sarah's +liking.</p> + +<p>I got rid of them; I beg pardon—they civilly dismissed me. Only young +Lacey had for me a word of more than formality. He did me the honor to +ask my opinion—as from one gentleman to another.</p> + +<p>"I say, do you think Octon had a right to say that?"</p> + +<p>"The retort was justifiable—strictly."</p> + +<p>"He need hardly——"</p> + +<p>"No, he needn't."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-by, Mr. Austin. I say—I'd like to come and see you. Are you +ever at home in the evenings?"</p> + +<p>"Always just now. I should be delighted to see you."</p> + +<p>"Evenings at the Manor aren't very lively," he remarked ingenuously. +"And I've left school for good, you know."</p> + +<p>The last words seemed to refer—distantly—to Leonard Octon. Without +returning to that disturbing subject I repeated my invitation and then, +comparatively free from my responsibilities, repaired alone to the +terrace.</p> + +<p>Octon was still there—extended on three chairs, smoking and drinking a +whisky and soda. I asked him about his travels—he was just back from +the recesses of Africa (if there are, truly, any recesses left)—but +gained small satisfaction. His predominant intellectual interest +was—insects! He would hunt a beetle from latitude to latitude, and by +no means despised the pursuit of a flea. My interest in the study of +religion assorted ill with this: when I questioned on my subject, he +replied on his. All other incidents of his journeys he passed over, both +in talk and in writing (he had written two books eminent in their own +line), with a brevity thoroughly Cæsarean. "Having taken the city and +killed the citizens"—Cæsar invaded another tribe!—That was the style. +Only Octon's tribes were insects, Cæsar's patriots. It was, however, +rumored—as Bertram Ware had hinted in a jocose form—that Octon's +summaries were, sometimes and in their degree, as eloquent as Cæsar's +own.</p> + +<p>"Hang my journeys!" he said, as I put one more of my futile questions. +"I got six bugs—one indisputably new. But I didn't hurry up here—I +only got home this morning—to talk about that. I hurried up here, +Austin——"</p> + +<p>"To annoy your neighbors—knowing they were assembled here?"</p> + +<p>"That was a side-show," he assured me. "Though it was entertaining +enough. And, after all, young Lacey began on me! No—I came to bring you +news of your liege lady. I've been in Paris, too, Austin."</p> + +<p>"And you met her?"</p> + +<p>"I met her often—with her cat."</p> + +<p>"Miss Chatters?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely. And sometimes without her cat. How do you like the change +from old Driver?"</p> + +<p>"I hold no such position, either in county or borough, as need tempt +you—to say nothing of entitling you—to ask impertinent questions, +Octon."</p> + +<p>He chuckled out a deep rumbling laugh of amusement. "Good!" he said. +"Well-turned—almost witty! Austin, I've my own pursuits—but I'm +inclined to wish I had your position."</p> + +<p>"You're very flattering—but my position is that of an employé—at a +salary which would hardly command your services."</p> + +<p>"You can be eyes and ears and hands to her. If I had your position, +I'd"—one of his great hands rose suddenly into the air—"crunch up this +neighborhood. With her resources she could get all the power." His hand +fell again, and he removed his body from two of the three chairs, +shifting himself with easy indolent strength. "Then you'd have it all in +your own control."</p> + +<p>"She'd have it in her own control, you must mean," said I.</p> + +<p>"Come, you're a man!" he mocked me. But he was looking at me closely, +too—and rather inquisitively, I thought.</p> + +<p>"Since you've met her often, I thought you might understand better than +that." To answer him in his own coin, I infused into my tone a contempt +which I hoped would annoy him.</p> + +<p>He was not annoyed; he was amused. In the insolence of his strength he +mocked at me—at Jenny through me—at me through Jenny. Yet, pervading +it all, there was revealed an interest—a curiosity—about her that +agreed ill with his assumed contemptuousness.</p> + +<p>"She's given you her idea of herself—and you've absorbed it. She thinks +she's another Nick Driver—and you're sure of it! It's all flim-flam, +Austin."</p> + +<p>"Have it your own way," said I meekly. "It's no affair of mine what you +choose to think."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's a more liberal sentiment than one generally hears in this +neighborhood."</p> + +<p>He rose and stretched himself, clenching his big fists in the air over +his head. "At any rate she's told me I may take my walks about here as +usual. I'll drop in and have a pipe with you some day."</p> + +<p>Another guest proposed himself! I hoped that the company might always +prove harmonious.</p> + +<p>"As for Chat," he went on, "I don't want to boast of my conquests—but +she's mine."</p> + +<p>"My congratulations are untouched by envy."</p> + +<p>"You may live to change your mind about that. Anyhow I hold her in my +hand."</p> + +<p>The truth about him was that, as he loved his strength, so, and no less, +he loved the display of it. A common, doubtless not the highest, +characteristic of the strong! Display is apt to pass into boast. He was +not at all loath to hint to me—to force me to guess—that his +encounters in Paris had set him thinking. (If they had set him feeling, +he said nothing about that.) Hence—as I reasoned it—he went on, with a +trifle more than his usual impudence, "Your goose will be cooked when +she marries, though!"</p> + +<p>After all, his impudence was good-humored. I retorted in kind. "Perhaps +the husband won't let you walk in the park either!"</p> + +<p>"If Fillingford were half a man—Lord, what a chance!"</p> + +<p>"You gossip as badly as the women themselves. Why not say young Lacey at +once?"</p> + +<p>"The boy? I'd lay him over my knee—at the first word of it."</p> + +<p>"He'd stab you under the fifth rib as you did it."</p> + +<p>The big man laughed. "Then my one would be worse than his sound dozen! +And what you say isn't at all impossible. He's a fine boy, that! After +all, though, he's inherited his courage. The father's no coward, +either."</p> + +<p>We had become engrossed in our interchange of shots—hostile, friendly, +or random. One speaks sometimes just for the repartee, especially when +no more than feeling after the interpretation of a man.</p> + +<p>Moreover Loft's approach was always noiseless. On Octon's last words, he +was by my side.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir, but Miss Driver has telephoned from London to say +that she'll be down to-morrow and glad to see you at lunch. And I was to +say, sir, would you be so kind as to send word to Mr. Octon that she +would be very pleased if he would come, too, if his engagements +permitted."</p> + +<p>"Oh—yes—very good, Loft. This is Mr. Octon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Loft. The tone was noncommittal. He knew Octon—but +declared no opinion.</p> + +<p>I was taken aback, for I had received no word of her coming; I had been +led not to expect her for four or five weeks. Octon's eye caught mine.</p> + +<p>"Changed her mind and come back sooner? Well, I did just the same +myself."</p> + +<p>By themselves the words were nothing. In connection with our little +duel—backed by the man's broad smile and the forceful assertion of his +personality—they amounted to a yet plainer boast—"I've come—and I +thought she would." That is too plain for speech—even for Octon's +ill-restrained tongue—but not too plain for his bearing. But then I +doubted whether his bearing were toward facts or merely toward me—were +proof of force or effort after effect.</p> + +<p>"Clearly Miss Chatters can't keep away from you!" I said.</p> + +<p>"Clearly we're going to have a more amusing time than we'd been hoping," +he answered and, with a casual and abrupt "Good-by," turned on his heel, +taking out another great cigar as he went.</p> + +<p>Perhaps we were—if amusing should prove to be the right word about it. +So ran my instinct—with no express reason to be given for it. Why +should not Jenny come home? Why should Octon's coming have anything to +do with it? In truth I was affected, I was half dominated for the +moment, by his confidence and his force. I had taken the impression he +wanted to give—just as he accused me of taking the impression that +Jenny sought to give. So I told myself consolingly. But I could not help +remembering that in those countries which he frequented, where he got +his insects and very probably his ideas, men were said as often to win +or lose—to live or die—by the impression they imparted to friends, +foes, and rivals as by the actual deeds they did. I could not judge how +far that was true—but that or something like it was surely what they +called prestige? If a man created prestige, you did not even try to +oppose him. Nay, you hastened to range yourself on his side—and your +real little power went to swell his asserted big power—his power big in +assertion but in fact, as against the present foe, still unproved. Had +the prestige been brought to bear on Chat—so that she was wholly his? +Was it being brandished before my eyes, to gain me also—for what I was +worth?</p> + +<p>After all, it was flattering of him to think that I mattered. I mattered +so very little. If he were minded to impress, if he were ready to fight, +his display and his battle must be against another foe—or—if the +evidence of that talk at the Flower Show went for anything—against +several. If an attack on Breysgate Priory were really in his mind, he +would find no ally—outside its walls.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>RAPIER AND CLUB</h3> + + +<p>Any account of Jenny Driver's doings is in danger of seeming to progress +by jumps and jerks, and thereby of contradicting the truth about its +subject. Cartmell, her principal man of business, scoffed at the idea +that Jenny was impulsive at all; after six months' experience of her he +said that he had never met a cooler, saner, more cautious judgment. That +this was true of her in business matters I have no reason to doubt, but +(I have noted this distinction already) if the remark is to be extended +to her personal affairs it needs qualification—yet without admitting of +contradiction. There she was undoubtedly impetuous and impulsive on +occasion; a certain course would appeal to her fancy, and she made for +it headlong, regardless, or seeming regardless, of its risks. But even +here, though the impulses prevailed on her suddenly in the end, they +were long in coming to a head, long in achieving mastery, and preceded +by protracted periods either of inaction or of action so wary and +tentative as not to commit her in any serious degree. She would advance +toward the object, then retreat from it, then stand still and look at +it, then walk round and regard it from another point of view. Next she +was apt to turn her back on it and become, for a time, engrossingly +interested in something else; it seemed essential to her ease of mind +that there should be an alternative possible and a line of retreat open. +All this circumspection and deliberation—or, if you like, this dawdling +and shilly-shallying (for opinions of Jenny have differed very widely on +this and on other matters)—had to happen before the rapid and imperious +impulse came to set a limit to them; even then it is doubtful whether +the impulse left her quite unmindful of the line of retreat.</p> + +<p>These characteristics of hers were exhibited in her treatment of the +question of the Institute. Although this was a public matter, it was (or +she made it) closely connected with certain private affairs which +inevitably had a profound interest for all of us who surrounded her. My +own belief is that a lift of Lady Sarah Lacey's brows started the +Institute. When she called—this necessary courtesy was punctually +forthcoming from the Manor to the Priory—she heard from Jenny about the +proposed Driver Memorial Hall, how it was to look, where it was to be, +and so forth. She put a question as to funds; Jenny owned to the ten +thousand pounds. All Lady Sarah said was, "Do you feel called upon to do +as much as that?" But she also lifted her brows—conveying thereby (as +Jenny confidently declared) that Miss Driver was taking an exaggerated +view of her father's importance and of her own, and was assuming a +position toward the borough of Catsford which properly belonged to her +betters (perhaps Lady Sarah was recollecting the Mayor's feudal speech!) +At any rate from that day forward Jenny began to hint at bigger things. +The Memorial Hall by itself no longer sufficed. She made a great friend +of Mr. Bindlecombe, and he often came up to Breysgate. Where his beloved +borough was concerned, Bindlecombe was openly and avowedly unscrupulous; +he meant to get all he could out of Miss Driver, and made no concealment +about it. Jenny delighted in this attitude; it gave her endless +opportunities of encouraging and discouraging, of setting up and putting +down, the hopes of Bindlecombe. Between them they elaborated the +idea—Jenny was great at elaborating it, but careful to insist that it +was no more than an idea—of extending the Memorial Hall into a great +Institute, which was to include a memorial hall but to comprise much +besides. It was to be a Driver Literary, Scientific, and Technical +Institute on the handsomest scale. Bindlecombes' patriotic and sanguine +mind hardly hesitated to see in it the nucleus of a future University +for the City of Catsford. (Catsford was in the future to be promoted to +be a "city," though I did not see how Jenny could have anything to do +with that!) The notion of this great Driver Institute pleased Jenny +immensely. How high it would lift Lady Sarah's eyebrows! It made +Cartmell apprehensive about the expense—and she liked to tease him by +suggested extravagance. Finally, it would, she declared, provide me with +a splendid post—as librarian, or principal, or something—which would +give me a worthier scope for my abilities and yet (Jenny looked at me +almost tenderly) let me stay in my dear little home—near +Breysgate—"and near me, Mr. Austin." She played with the idea—as she +played with us. Some gossip about it began to trickle through Catsford. +There was much interest, and Jenny became quite a heroine. Meanwhile +plans for the poor old Memorial Hall were suspended.</p> + +<p>According to Bindlecombe the only possible site for the visible +realization of this splendid idea—the only site which the congested +condition of the center of the borough allowed, and also the only one +worthy of the great Institute—was the garden and grounds of Hatcham +Ford. The beautiful old house itself was to be preserved as the center +of an imposing group of handsome buildings; the old gardens need not be +materially spoiled—so Bindlecombe unplausibly maintained. The flavor of +antiquity and aristocracy thus imparted to the Institute would, +Bindlecombe declared, give it a charm and a dignity beyond those +possessed by any other Institute the world over. I was there when he +first made this suggestion to Jenny. She looked at him in silence, +smiled, and glanced quickly at me. The look, though quick, was +audacious—under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>"But what will Mr. Octon say to that?"</p> + +<p>Bindlecombe deferentially hinted that he understood that Mr. Octon's +lease of Hatcham Ford expired, or could be broken, in two or three +years. He understood—perhaps he was wrong—that Mr. Driver usually +reserved a power to break leases at the end of seven years? Mr. Cartmell +would, of course, know all about that.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if that's so," said Jenny, "of course it would be quite simple. +Wouldn't it, Mr. Austin?"</p> + +<p>"As simple as drawing a badger," I replied—and Bindlecombe looked +surprised to hear such a sporting simile pass my lips. It was by no +means a bad one, though, and Jenny rewarded it with a merry little nod.</p> + +<p>At this point, then, her public project touched her private +relations—and her relations with Octon had been close ever since her +return from Paris. He had been a constant visitor at Breysgate, and my +belief was that within a very few weeks of her arrival he had made a +direct attack—had confronted her with a downright proposal—demand is a +word which suits his method better—for her hand. I did not think that +she had refused, I was sure that she had not accepted. She was fond of +referring, in his presence, to the recent date of her father's death, to +her own immersion in business, to the "strangeness" of her new life and +the necessity of "finding her feet" before doing much. These +references—rather pathetic and almost apologetic—Octon would receive +with a frown of impatience—sometimes even of incredulity; but he did +not make them an occasion of quarrel. He continued to come constantly to +the Priory—certainly three or four times a week. There is no doubt that +he was, in his way, very much in love with Jenny. It was an overbearing +sort of way—but it had two great merits: it was resolute and it was +disinterested. He was quite clear that he wanted her; it was quite clear +that he did not care about her money, though he might envy her power. +And if he tried to dominate her, he had to submit to constant proofs of +her domination also. She could, and did, make him furiously angry; he +was often undisguisedly impatient of her coynesses and her hesitations: +but he could not leave her nor the hopes he had of her. And she, on her +side, could not—at least did not—send him away. For that matter she +never liked sending anybody away—not even Powers; it seemed to make her +kingdom less by one—a change in quite the wrong direction. Octon would +have been a great loss, for he had, without doubt, a strong, and an +increasingly strong, attraction for her. She liked at least to play at +being subjugated by his masculine force; she did, in fact, to a great +extent approve and admire his semi-barbaric way (for her often mitigated +by a humor which he kept for the people he liked) of speaking of and +dealing with women. Down in her heart she thought that attitude rather +the right thing in a man, and liked to think of it as a power before +which she might yield. At the theater she was always delighted when the +rebellious maiden or the charming spitfire of a wife, at last, in the +third act, hailed the hero as her "master." So far she was primitive +amidst all her subtlety. But to Jenny's mind it was by no means the +third act yet; even the plot of the play was not laid out so far ahead +as that. If this masterful, quick, assertive way of wooing were proper +to man, woman had her weapons; she had her natural weapons, she had the +weapons a civilized state of society gave her, and she had those which +casual chance might add to her arsenal. Under the last of these three +categories fell the project of the Driver Institute, to be established +at Mr. Octon's present residence, Hatcham Ford.</p> + +<p>It was a great chance for Jenny. Institutes as such, and all similar +works, Octon hated—why educate people who ought to be driven? The +insolence not of rank but of intellect spoke in him with a strong voice. +Bindlecombe he hated, and it was mainly Bindlecombe's idea. Catsford he +hated, because it was gradually but surely spreading to the gates of his +beautiful old house. Deeper than this, he hated being under anybody's +power; it was bitter to him that, when his mind was to stay, +anybody—whether Jenny or another—should be able to tell him to go. +Finally, his special position toward Jenny made the mere raising of the +question of his future residence a rare chance for her—a chance of +teasing and vexing, of coaxing and soothing, or of artful pretense that +there was no underlying question at all.</p> + +<p>She told him about the project—it was nothing more, she was careful to +remark—after dinner one evening, in her most artless manner.</p> + +<p>"It's a perfect idea—only I hope you wouldn't mind turning out?"</p> + +<p>He had listened sullenly, pulling hard at his cigar. Chat was watching +him with alarmed eyes; he had cast his spell on Chat, that was certain; +there his boast did not go beyond truth.</p> + +<p>"Being turned out, you mean, I imagine! I'd never willingly turn out to +make room for any such nonsense. Of all the humbugs——"</p> + +<p>"It's my duty to do something for the town," she urged—very grave.</p> + +<p>"Let them do their work by day and drink their beer by night. Fancy +those fellows in my house!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you feel like that. I thought you'd be interested—and—and +I'd try to find you a house somewhere else. There must be some other +houses, Mr. Austin?"</p> + +<p>"One or two round about, I fancy," said I.</p> + +<p>"Nice little ones—to suit a single man?" she asked, her bright eyes now +seeking, now eluding, a meeting with his.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I can choose the size of my house for myself," Octon growled. +"I don't want Austin's advice about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it wasn't poor Mr. Austin who—who spoke about the size of the +house." A sudden thought seemed to strike her. "You might stay on and be +something in the Institute!"</p> + +<p>"I'd burn the house over my head sooner."</p> + +<p>"Burn my pretty house! Oh, Mr. Octon! I should be so hurt—and you'd be +sent to prison! What a lot of police it would need to take you there!"</p> + +<p>The last sentence mollified him—and it was clever of her to know that +it would. He had his primitive side, too. He was primitive enough to +love a compliment to his muscles.</p> + +<p>"I'd be out of the country before they came—with you under my arm," he +said, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"That would be very forgiving—but hardly proper, would it, Chat? Unless +we were—Oh, but what nonsense! Why don't you like my poor Institute?"</p> + +<p>He relapsed into ill-humor, and it developed into downright rudeness.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing to me how people make fools of themselves," he said.</p> + +<p>Jenny did not always resent his rudeness. But she never compromised her +right to resent it. She exercised the right now, rising with +instantaneous dignity. "It's time for us to go, Chat. Mr. Austin, will +you kindly look after Mr. Octon's comfort for the rest of the evening?" +She swept out, Chat pattering after her in a hen-like flutter. Octon +drank off his glass of wine with a muttered oath. Excellent as the port +was, it seemed to do him no good. He leaned over to me—perfectly sober, +be it understood (I never saw him affected by liquor), but desperately +savage. "I won't stand that," he said. "If she sticks to that, I'll +never come back to this house when I've walked out of it to-night."</p> + +<p>I was learning how to deal with his tempests. "I shall hope to have the +pleasure of encountering you elsewhere," I observed politely. "Meanwhile +I have my orders. Pray help yourself to port."</p> + +<p>He did that, but at the same moment hurled at me the order—"Take her +that message."</p> + +<p>"There's pen and ink behind you, Octon."</p> + +<p>Temper is a terrible master—and needs looking after even as a servant. +He jumped up, wrote something—what I could only guess—and rang the +bell violently. I could imagine Jenny's smile—I did not ring like that.</p> + +<p>"Take that to your mistress," he commanded. "It's the address she +wanted." But he had carefully closed the envelope, and probably Loft had +his private opinion.</p> + +<p>We sat in silence till the answer came. "Miss Driver says she is much +obliged, sir, for the address," said Loft as, with a wave of his hand, +he introduced a footman with coffee, "and she needn't trouble you any +more in the matter—as you have another engagement to-night."</p> + +<p>Under Loft's eyes he had pulled himself together; he received the +message with an appearance of indifference which quite supported the +idea that it related to some trifle and that he really had to go away +early; I had not given him credit for such a power of suddenly regaining +self-control. He nodded, and said lightly to me, "Well, since Miss +Driver is so kind, I'll be off in another ten minutes." The presence of +servants must, in the long run, create a great deal of good manners.</p> + +<p>When Loft was out of the room Octon dropped his disguise. He brought his +big hand down on the table with a slap, saying, "There's an end of it!"</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't she build an Institute? If you take a lease for only +seven years, how are you aggrieved by getting notice to quit at the end +of the term?"</p> + +<p>"Don't argue round the fringe of things. Don't be a humbug," he +admonished me, scornfully enough, yet for once, as I fancied, with a +touch of gentleness and liking. "You've damned sharp eyes, and I've +something else to do than take the trouble to blind them."</p> + +<p>"No extraordinary acuteness of vision is necessary," I ventured to +remark.</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair with a heavy sigh, leaving his coffee and brandy +untouched. I felt inclined to tell him that in all likelihood he was +taking the matter too seriously: he was assuming finality—a difficult +thing to assume when Jenny was in the case. He came to me and laid his +hand on my shoulder. "They manage 'em better in Africa," he said with a +sardonic grin. "Of course I'd no business to say that to her—but hadn't +she been trying to draw me all the time? She does it—then she makes a +shindy!"</p> + +<p>"I'll see you a bit on your way," I said. He accepted my offer by +slipping his hand under my arm. I opened the door for us to pass out. +There stood Chat on the threshold. Octon regarded her with an +ill-subdued impatience. Chat was fluttering still.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Octon, she's—she's so angry! Might I—oh, might I take a +message to her room? She's gone upstairs and forbidden me to follow."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but there's no message to take."</p> + +<p>"If you would just say something——!"</p> + +<p>"There's no message to take." Again his tone was not rough—it was +moody, almost absent: but, as he left Chat behind in her useless +agitation, he leaned on my arm very heavily. Though I counted his whole +great body as for me less than her little finger, yet a subtle male +freemasonry stirred in me. He had behaved very badly—for a man should +bear a pretty woman's pin-pricks—yet he was hard hit; all against him +as I was, I knew that he was hard hit. Moreover, he had summed up +Jenny's procedure pretty accurately.</p> + +<p>We put on our coats—it was now September—undid the big door, and went +out, down the steps, into a clear frosty night. We had walked many yards +along the drive before he spoke. At last he said, very quietly—</p> + +<p>"You're a good chap, Austin, and I'm sorry I've made a row to-night. +Yes, I'm sorry for that. But whether I'm sorry I've been kicked out or +not—well, that's a difficult question. My temper—well, sometimes I'm a +bit afraid of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's nothing. You've both got tempers. You'll make it up."</p> + +<p>He spoke with a calm deliberation unusual with him. "I don't think I'd +better," he said. "I don't quite trust myself: I might do +something—queer."</p> + +<p>In my opinion that possibility about him attracted Jenny; but it needed +no artificial fostering, and I held my peace.</p> + +<p>There were electric lights at intervals down the drive: at this moment I +could see his face plainly. I thoroughly agreed with what he said and +understood his judgment of himself. But it was hard to see him look like +that about it. Suddenly—as I still looked—his expression changed. A +look of apprehension came over him—but he smiled also, and gripped my +arm tightly. A figure walked out of the darkness into the light of the +lamp.</p> + +<p>I recalled how I had found her sitting by my hearth one night—in time +to make me recall my resignation. Was she here to make Octon unsay his +determination?</p> + +<p>She came up to us smiling—with no air of surprise, real or affected, +and with no explanation of her own presence.</p> + +<p>"Both of you! What luck! I didn't think you'd come away from the house +yet."</p> + +<p>"I've come away from the house, Miss Driver," said Octon—rather grimly.</p> + +<p>"In fact you've—'walked out of the house'—?" asked Jenny, smiling. The +dullest ears could not miss the fact that she was quoting.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Octon briefly, leaving the next move with her. She had +no hesitation over it.</p> + +<p>"Let not the sun go down upon your wrath!" she cried gayly. "The sun is +down, but the moon will be up soon, and if you won't quarrel any more +I'll keep you company for a little bit of the way." She turned to me, +"Do you mind waiting at the house a quarter of an hour? I've had a +letter from Mr. Cartmell that I want to consult you about."</p> + +<p>Octon had not replied to her invitation and did not now. As I said, "All +right—I'll smoke a pipe outside and wait for you," she beckoned lightly +and merrily to him. After an almost imperceptible pause he moved slowly +after her. Gradually their figures receded from the area of lamplight +and grew dim in the darkness. The moon peeped over the hill but gave no +light yet by which they could be seen.</p> + +<p>I had never believed in the permanence of that quarrel. Though it was a +strong instance, yet it was hardly more than a typical instance of their +quarrels—of the constant clashing of his way against hers—of the play +between her rapier and his club. If their intimacy went on, they might +have worse quarrels that. For me the significance of the evening lay not +in another proof that Jenny, while saving her pride and scoring her +formal victory, would still not let him go—and perhaps would go far to +keep him; that was an old story, or, at least, a bit of discernment of +her now months old; rather it lay in Octon's account of his own +disposition toward her proceedings—in his puzzle whether he were glad +or sorry to be "kicked out"—in that fear of himself and of his +self-restraint which made him relieved to go, even while his face was +wrung with the pain of going. In view of that, I felt that I also should +have been relieved if he had really gone—gone not to return—not to +submit himself again to the variety of Jenny's ways—to the quick +flashing alternation of her weapons, natural, conventional, casual, or +whatsoever they might be. He was right about himself—he was not the man +for that treatment. He could not appreciate the artistic excellence of +it; he felt, even if he deserved, its cruelty. Moreover, it might prove +dangerous. What if he beat down the natural weapons—and ignored the +rest? One thing at least was clear; he would not again tell me—or even +pretend to me—that her power was "all flim-flam."</p> + +<p>She came back in half an hour, at a leisurely pace, looking much pleased +with herself.</p> + +<p>I was smoking on the steps by the hall door.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," she assured me with a cheerful smile. "We're quite +friends, and he's not going to be such a bear any more—if he can help +it, which, Mr. Austin, I doubt."</p> + +<p>"How did you manage it?" I asked—not that there was much real need of +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Of course I told him that the Institute was nothing but an idea, and +that, even if it were built, its being at Hatcham Ford was the merest +idea, and that, even if it had to be at Hatcham Ford—well, I pointed +out that two years are two years—(You needn't take the trouble to nod +about that—it was quite a sensible remark)—that two years are two +years and that very likely he wouldn't want the house at all by then."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"So, of course, he apologized for his rudeness and promised not to be so +foolish again, and we said good night quite friends. What have you been +thinking about?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could possibly tell you."</p> + +<p>I was just opening the door for her. She paused on the threshold, +lifting her brows a little and smiling as she whispered, "Something +uncomplimentary?"</p> + +<p>"That depends what you want to be complimented on," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, as long as it's on anything!" she cried. "You'll admit my +compliments to-night have been terribly left-handed?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that mine hasn't a touch of that. Well—I think it's very +brave to play games in the crater of an active volcano—exceedingly +brave it is!"</p> + +<p>"Brave? But not very——?"</p> + +<p>"Let's leave it where it is. What about Cartmell's letter?"</p> + +<p>"That'll do to-morrow." (Of course it would—it had been only an +instrument of dismissal.) "I'm tired to-night." Her face grew grave: she +experienced another mood—or touched another note. "My friend, you must +believe that I always listen to what you say. I mayn't see things just +as you seem to, sometimes, but what you say always makes me think. By +the bye, are you very busy, or could you ride to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!" I cried eagerly. "Seven-thirty, as usual?"</p> + +<p>"A quarter to eight sharp. Good night." She gave me a contented friendly +smile, with just a hint of triumph about it, and went upstairs.</p> + +<p>It shows what a good thing life is that I, too, in spite of my +questionings and apprehension, repaired home forgetful of them for the +time and full of exultation. I loved riding; and Jenny on horseback was +a companion for a god.</p> + +<p>On reflection it might have occurred to me that it was easier for her to +invite me to ride than to listen too exactly to my counsels—quite as +easy and really as well calculated to keep me content. Happily the youth +in me found in her more than the subject of fears or the source of +questionings. She could also delight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>TAKING TO OPEN SEA</h3> + + +<p>On her morning rides Jenny wore a habit of russet brown and a +broad-brimmed hat to match; her beautiful mare was a golden chestnut; +the motive and the crown of all the scheme showed in her brilliant hazel +eyes. On this fine morning—there was a touch of autumn frost, slowly +yielding before the growing strength of the sun, but the ground was +springy under us—Jenny bore a holiday air; no cares and no schemes +beset her. To my poor ability I shared and seconded her mood, though my +black coat and drab breeches were a sad failure in the matter of outward +expression. She made straight for the north gate of the Priory park; we +passed through it, crossed the road, and entered, by a farm-gate, on to +Fillingford territory. "I almost always come here," she told me. +"There's such a splendid gallop. Now and then I meet Lord Lacey, and we +have a race."</p> + +<p>Not being an habitual party to these excursions—it was my usual lot to +lie in wait for the early post and reduce the letters to order for our +after-breakfast session—I had seen and heard nothing of her encounters +with young Lacey. I conceived that the two houses were still on the +terms of distant civility to which Lady Sarah's passive resistance had +endeavored to confine them. A formal call from each lady on the other—a +no less formal visit to Jenny from Lord Fillingford (who left his son's +card also)—there it had seemed to stop, the Mayor of Catsford and the +Memorial Hall perhaps in some degree contributing to that result. Fine +mornings a-horseback and youthful blood had, however, sapped Lady +Sarah's defenses. I was glad—and I envied Lacey. He had much to be +thankful for. True, they talked of sad financial troubles at Fillingford +Manor, but you may hear many a fine gentleman rail at the pinch of +poverty, as he pours, in no ungenerous measure, his own champagne down +his throat at half-a-crown a glass. Perhaps at Fillingford that luxury +did not rule every day; but at any rate Lacey had a good horse to +ride—to say nothing of pleasant company.</p> + +<p>Well, all he had he deserved, if only because he looked what he was so +splendidly. If Providence, or nature, or society makes a scheme of +things, it is surely a merit in us poor units to fit into it? Let others +attack or defend the country gentleman. Anyhow, if you are one, look it! +And for such an one as does look it I have a heartfelt admiration, from +the crown of his head to the sole of his foot—with a special affection +for his legs in perfect boots and breeches. Young Lacey was such a +consummate type; I did not wonder that Jenny's ever liberal appreciation +smiled beams of approval as he appeared over the crest of a rising +hillock and rode on to meet us. Excellent, too, were the lad's manners; +he appeared really glad to see me—which in the nature of the case he +hardly can have been in his heart.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to win this morning!" he cried to Jenny. "I feel like winning +to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Why to-day? You don't win very often."</p> + +<p>"That's true," he said to me. "Miss Driver's won two to my one, regular. +At sixpence a race I owe her three shillings already."</p> + +<p>I had a feeling that Jenny glanced at me, but I did not look at Jenny. I +did not even do the sum, though it was easy arithmetic.</p> + +<p>"But to-day—well, in the first place I've got my commission—and in the +second Aunt Sarah's gone to London for a week."</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you on the commission."</p> + +<p>"And you're loftily indifferent about Aunt Sarah?" he asked, laughing. +"I say, though, come along! Are you a starter, Mr. Austin?"</p> + +<p>I declined the invitation, but I managed to keep them well in sight—and +my deliberate opinion is that Jenny pulled. She could have won, I swear +it, if she had liked; as it was, she was beaten by a length. The lad was +ingenuously triumphant. "Science is beginning to tell," he declared. +"You won't hold your lead long!"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes it's considered polite to let a lady win," Jenny suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come! If she challenges she must take her chance in fair fight."</p> + +<p>"Then what chance have we poor women?" asked deceptive Jenny—who could +have won the race.</p> + +<p>"You beat us in some things, I admit. Brains, very often, and, of +course, charm and all that sort of thing." He paused a moment, blushed a +little, and added, "And—er—of course—out of sight in moral +qualities."</p> + +<p>I liked his "moral qualities." It hinted that reverence was alive in +him. I am not sure it did not indicate that the reverence due to woman +in the abstract was supremely due to the woman by his side.</p> + +<p>"Out of sight in moral qualities?" she repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, I +suppose even a woman may hope that that's true. Don't you think so, Mr. +Austin?"</p> + +<p>"It has always been conceded in civilized communities," I agreed.</p> + +<p>"What I hate about that fellow Octon—Oh, I beg pardon—isn't he a +friend of yours?"</p> + +<p>"I know him pretty well. He's rather interesting."</p> + +<p>"I hate the fellow's tone about—about that sort of thing. Cheap, I call +it. But I don't suppose he does it to you; you wouldn't stand it."</p> + +<p>"I'm very patient with my friends," said Jenny.</p> + +<p>"Friends! You and that—! Oh, well, let's have another gallop."</p> + +<p>The gallop brought us in full view of Fillingford Manor; it lay over +against us in the valley, broad expanses of meadow and of lawn leading +up to a formal garden, beyond which rose the long low red-brick façade +half covered with ivy, and a multitude of twisting chimneys.</p> + +<p>"Jolly old place, isn't it?" cried Lacey. "I say, wouldn't you like to +see over it? I don't expect Aunt Sarah showed you much!"</p> + +<p>"I should like to see over it very much, if your father would ask me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he will—he'll be delighted. I say, come this week—while we're by +ourselves?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if he invites me."</p> + +<p>"He'll invite you. He likes you very much—only he's not exactly +expansive, you know, the governor!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, you are. Now Mr. Austin and I must go back to breakfast and +to work."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, I must be getting back, too, or I shall keep the governor +waiting, and he doesn't like that."</p> + +<p>"If you do, tell him it's my fault."</p> + +<p>The boy looked at her, then at me, again blushed a little, and laughed. +The slightest flush appeared on Jenny's smiling face. I took the +opportunity to light a cigarette. The morning races had not been talked +about at Fillingford!</p> + +<p>"Well no—you mustn't put it on the woman, must you?" said Jenny, as she +waved a laughing farewell.</p> + +<p>On our way home she was silent and thoughtful, speaking only now and +then and answering one or two remarks of mine rather absently. One +observation threw some light on her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"It's very awkward that Mr. Octon should make himself so unpopular. I +want to be friends with everybody, but—" She broke off. I did no more +than give a nod of assent. But I knew—and thought she must—how Octon +stood. He was considered to have made himself impossible. He was not +asked to Fillingford; Aspenick had bluntly declared that he would not +meet him on account of a rude speech of Octon's, leveled at Lady +Aspenick; Bertram Ware and he were at daggers drawn over some +semipolitical semiprivate squabble in which Octon's language had been of +more than its usual violence. The town loved him no better than the +county. Jenny wanted to be popular everywhere—popular, influential, +acclaimed. She was weighted by this unpopular friendship—which yet had +such attraction for her. The cares of state had fastened on her again as +we jogged homeward.</p> + +<p>Well, they were the joy of her life—it would have needed a dull man not +soon to see that. The real joy, I mean—not what at that moment—nay, +nor perhaps at any moment—she would herself have named as her delight. +Her joy in the sense in which we creatures—and the wisest among us long +ago—come nearest to being able to understand and define the innermost +engine or instinct whose working is most truly ourselves—the temptation +to live and life itself which pair nature has so cunningly coupled +together. Effective activity—the reaching out to make of external +things and people (especially, perhaps, things and people that +obstinately resist) part of our own domain—their currency coinage of +ours, with the stamp of our mint, bearing our superscription—causing +the writ of our issuing to run where it did not run before—is not this, +however ill-expressed (and bigger men than I have failed, and will fail, +fully to express it), something like what the human spirit attempts? Or +is there, too, a true gospel of drawing in—of renouncing? In the +essential, mind you!—It is easy in trifles, in indulgences and +luxuries. But to surrender the exercise and expansion of self?</p> + +<p>If that be right, if that be true—at any rate it was not Jenny Driver. +She was a strong, natural-born swimmer, cast now for the first time into +open sea—after the duck ponds of her Smalls and her Simpsons. It was +not the smooth waters which tested, tried, or in innermost truth +delighted her most.</p> + +<p>All this in a very tiny corner? Of course. Will you find me anywhere +that is not a corner, please? Alexander worked in one, and Cæsar. "What +does it matter then what I do?" "No more," I must answer, being no +philosopher and therefore unprepared with a theory, "than it matters +whether or not you are squashed under yonder train. But if you think—on +your own account—that the one matters, why, for all we can say, perhaps +the other does."</p> + +<p>That duck pond of the Simpsons'! By apparent chance—it may be, in fact, +by some unusual receptivity in my own bearing—that very day Chat talked +to me about it. I had grown friendlier toward Chat, having perceived +that the cunning in her—(it was there, and refuted Cartmell's charge of +mere foolishness)—ran to no more than a decent selfishness, informed by +years of study of Jenny, deflected by a spinsterish admiration of +Octon's claim to unquestioned male dominion. Her reason said—"We are +very well as we are. I am comfortable. I am 'putting by.' Jenny's +marriage might make things worse." The spinster added, "But this must +end some day. Let it end—when it must—in an irresistible (perhaps to +Chat's imagination a rather lurid) conquest." Paradoxically her instinct +(for if anything be an instinct, selfishness is) squared with what I had +deciphered of Jenny's strategy—in immediate action at least. Chat would +not have Octon shown the door; neither would she set him at the head of +the table—just yet. Being comfortable, she abhorred all chance of +convulsions—as Jenny, being powerful, resented all threat of dominion. +But if the convulsion must come—as it must some day—Chat wanted it +dramatic—matter for gossip and for flutters! To her taste Octon +fulfilled that æsthetic requirement.</p> + +<p>Naturally Chat saw Jenny at the Simpsons' from her own point of +view—through herself—and by that avenue approached the topic.</p> + +<p>"Of course things are very much changed for the better in most ways, Mr. +Austin—if they'll only last. The comforts!—And, of course, the salary! +Well, it's not the thing to talk about that. Still I daresay you +yourself sometimes think—? Yes, of course, one must consider it. But +there were features of the rectory life which I confess I miss. We had +always a very cheerful tea, and supper, too, was sociable. In fact one +never wanted for a chat. Here I'm thrown very much on my own resources. +Jenny is out or busy, and Mrs. Bennet—the housekeeper, you know—is +reserved and, of course, not at her ease with me. And then there was the +authority!" (Was Chat also among the Cæsars?) "Poor Chat had a great +deal of authority at the rectory, Mr. Austin—yes—she had! Mrs. Simpson +an invalid—the rector busy or not caring to meddle—the girls were left +entirely to me. My word was law." She shook her head regretfully over +the change in her position.</p> + +<p>"We all like that, Miss Chatters, when we can get it!"</p> + +<p>"Jenny, of course, was different—and that made it difficult sometimes. +Besides being the eldest, she was very well paid for and, although not +pampered and, I must say, considering all things as I now know them, +very ill-supplied with pocket money, there were orders that she should +ride every day. Two horses and the hostler from the Bull every +day—except Sundays! It couldn't but make a difference, especially with +a girl of Jenny's disposition—not altogether an easy one, Mr. Austin. +It had to be give-and-take between us. If she obeyed me, there were many +little things I could do—having, as I say, the authority. If she would +do her lessons well—and her example had great influence on the +others—I didn't trouble to see what books she had in her bedroom (with +the other girls I did), nor even ask questions if she stayed out a +little late for supper. Of course we had to be very much on our guard; +it didn't do to make the Simpson girls jealous."</p> + +<p>"You had a little secret understanding between yourselves?"</p> + +<p>"Never, Mr. Austin! I wouldn't have done such a thing with any of my +pupils. It would be subversive of discipline."</p> + +<p>"Of course it would; I beg your pardon." (Here a little "homage to +virtue" on both our parts!)</p> + +<p>"She knew how far she could go; she knew when I must say 'Stop!' She +never put me to it—though I must say she went very near the line +sometimes. She came to us very raw, too, with really no idea of what was +ladylike. What those Smalls can have been like! You see what she is now. +I don't think I did so badly."</p> + +<p>I saw what she was now—or some of it. And I seemed to see it all +growing up in that country rectory—the raw girl from the Smalls (those +deplorable Smalls!) at Cheltenham, learning her youthful lessons in +diplomacy—how far one can go, where one must stop, how keen a bargain +can be struck with Authority. Chat had been Authority then. There was +another now. Yet where the difference in principle?</p> + +<p>"I can't have managed so very badly, because they were all +broken-hearted to lose me—I often think how they can be getting +on!—and here I am with Jenny! Well, poor Chat would have had to go +soon, anyhow. They were all growing up. That time comes. It must be so +in my profession, Mr. Austin. Indispensable to-day, to-morrow you're not +wanted!"</p> + +<p>"That sounds sad. You must be glad, in the end, that you didn't stay?"</p> + +<p>"It'll be the same here some day. For all you or I know, it might be +to-morrow. The only thing is to suit as long as we can, and to put by a +little."</p> + +<p>I vowed—within my breast—that henceforth Chat's little foibles—or +defenses?—her time-serving, her cowardice, her flutters, her judgment +of Jenny's concerns from a point of view not primarily Jenny's, her +encroachments on the port and other stolen (probably transient!) +luxuries—all these should meet with gentle and sympathetic +appraisement. She was only trying to "suit"—and meanwhile to put by a +little. But I was not sure what she had done, or helped to do, to Jenny, +nor that her ex-pupil's best course would not lie in presenting her with +her <i>congé</i> and a substantial annuity.</p> + +<p>An invitation came from Fillingford in which Chat and I were courteously +included. Jenny, however, found work for poor Chat at home (alas, for +the days of Authority!) and made me drive her over in the dog-cart. As +we drove in at the gates, she asked suddenly, "How am I to behave?"</p> + +<p>"Don't look at anything as if you wanted to buy it," was the best +impromptu advice I could hit on.</p> + +<p>"I might do it tactfully! Don't you remember what my father said?—'You +may succeed in your way better than I in mine.'"</p> + +<p>"I remember. And you think he referred to tact?"</p> + +<p>Jenny took so long to answer that there was no time to answer at all; we +were at the door, and young Lacey was waiting.</p> + +<p>The house was beautiful and stately; I think that Jenny was surprised to +find that it was also in decent repair. There was nothing ragged, +nothing poverty-stricken; a grave and moderate handsomeness marked all +the equipment. The fall in fortune was rather to be inferred from what +was absent than rudely shown in the present condition of affairs. Thus +the dining-room was called the Vandyke Room—but there were no Vandykes; +a charming little boudoir was called the Madonna Parlor—but the Madonna +had taken flight, probably a long flight across the Atlantic. In giving +us the names Lord Fillingford made no reference to their being no longer +applicable—he seemed to use them in mechanical habit, forgetful of +their significance—and Jenny, mindful perhaps of the spirit of my +warning, refrained from questions. But for what was to be seen she had a +generous and genuine enthusiasm; the sedate beauty and serenely grand +air of the old place went to her heart.</p> + +<p>But one picture did hang in the Madonna Parlor—a half-length of a +beautiful high-bred girl with large dark eyes and a figure slight almost +to emaciation. Lacey and I, who were behind, entered the room just as +the other two came to a stand before it. I saw Jenny's face turn toward +Fillingford in inquiry.</p> + +<p>"My wife," he said. "She died thirteen years ago—when Amyas was only +five." His voice was dry, but he looked steadily at the picture with a +noticeable intentness of gaze.</p> + +<p>"This was mother's own room, Miss Driver," Lacey interposed.</p> + +<p>"Yes. How—how it must have suited her!" said Jenny in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Fillingford turned his head sharply round and looked at her; with a +slight smile he nodded his head. "She was very fond of this room. She +had it furnished in blue—instead of yellow." Then he moved quickly to +the door. "There's nothing else you'd care to see here, I think."</p> + +<p>After lunch Lacey carried Jenny off to the garden—his father seemed to +think that he had done enough as host and to acquiesce readily in the +devolution of his duties—and I sat awhile with Fillingford, smoking +cigarettes—well, he only smoked one. It seemed to me that the man was +like his house; just as the state of its fortune was not rudely declared +in anything unbecoming or shabby, but had to be gathered from the gaps +where beauties once had figured, so the essence of him, and the road to +understanding him, lay in his reserves, his silences, his defensiveness. +What he refrained from doing, being, or saying, was the most significant +thing about him. His manners were irreproachable, his courtesy cast in a +finer mold than that of an ordinary gentleman, yet he did not achieve +real cordiality and remained at a very long arm's length from intimacy. +His highest degree of approval seemed to consist in an absence of +disapprobation; yet, feeling that this negative reward of merit was hard +to win, the recipient took the unsubstantial guerdon with some +gratification. My own hope was to escape from his presence without +having caused him to think that I had done anything offensive; if he had +nothing against me, I should be content. I wondered whether he were +satisfied to have the like measure meted out to him. His son had said he +was "not expansive": that was like denying silkiness to a porcupine. Yet +there was that about him which commanded respect—at least a respect +appropriately negative; you felt certain that he would do nothing sordid +and touch nothing unclean; he would always be true to the code of his +class and generation.</p> + +<p>We heard laughter from Jenny and Lacey echoing down the long passages as +they returned from the garden; from the noise their feet made they +seemed to be racing again. The sounds interrupted a rather perfunctory +conversation about Nicholas Driver and the growth of Catsford. Rather to +my surprise—I must confess—his face lit up with a smile—a smile of +pensive sweetness.</p> + +<p>"That sounds cheerful," he said. "More like old days!" Then he looked at +me apprehensively, as though afraid that he had proffered an uninvited +confidence. He went on almost apologetically. "It's very quiet here. My +health doesn't fit me for public life, or even for much work in the +county. We do our duty, I hope, but we tend rather to fall out of the +swim. It wasn't so in my wife's time. Well, Amyas will bring all that +back again some day, I hope."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear that he's got his commission," said I.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he must go and do some work, while I hold the fort for him at +home. Landed property needs a great deal of attention nowadays, Mr. +Austin." Again he smiled, but now wearily, as though his stewardship +were a heavy burden.</p> + +<p>The laughing pair burst into the room. Amyas was flushed, Jenny seemed +out of breath; they had a great joke to tell.</p> + +<p>"We've found a picture of Miss Driver in the West Gallery," cried Amyas. +"Really it must be her—it's exactly like!"</p> + +<p>"Fancy my picture being in your house all this time, Lord +Fillingford—and you never told me!"</p> + +<p>Fillingford was looking intently at Jenny now. He raised his brows a +little and smiled, as the result of his survey.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I'm afraid I know which picture Amyas means, though I don't often +go to the West Gallery. The one on the right of the north door, Amyas?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—in a wonderful gown all over pearls, you know."</p> + +<p>"Who is she—besides me?" asked Jenny. "Because I believe she has a look +of me really."</p> + +<p>"She's an ancestress—a collateral ancestress at least—of ours. She was +one of Queen Elizabeth's ladies. But we're not proud of her—and you +mustn't be proud of the likeness—if there is one, Miss Driver."</p> + +<p>"But I am proud of it. I think she's very pretty—and some day I'll have +a gown made just like that."</p> + +<p>"Why aren't we proud of her, father?" asked young Lacey.</p> + +<p>"She got into sad disgrace—and very nearly into the Tower, I believe. +Elizabeth made her kinsman Lord Lacey—one of my predecessors—take her +away from Court and bring her down to the country. Here she was kept—in +fact more or less imprisoned. But it didn't last many years. Smallpox +carried her off, poor thing—it was very bad in these parts about +1590—and, unluckily for her, before the queen died.</p> + +<p>"What was her name?"</p> + +<p>"Mistress Eleanor Lacey."</p> + +<p>"And what had she done?" pursued Jenny, full of interest.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, what was the truth about it—who can tell now? It was never +important enough to get put on record. But the family tradition is that +the Queen was jealous of her place in Leicester's affections." He smiled +at Jenny. "I wish Amyas had found you a more acceptable prototype!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Jenny thoughtfully. "I like her looks. Do you +believe that what they said was true?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to say that, again according to the family tradition, it +was."</p> + +<p>Our dog-cart had been ready for some minutes. Jenny said good-by, and +both father and son escorted her to the door.</p> + +<p>"I hope we shall see you at dinner as soon as my sister comes back," +said Fillingford, as he helped her to mount into the cart. "We must have +a little festivity for Amyas before he joins."</p> + +<p>Jenny was all thanks and cordiality, and drove off smiling and waving +her hand gayly.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that really rather interesting about Eleanor Lacey? Mind you go +and see the picture next time you're there! It's really very like."</p> + +<p>I promised to see the picture, and asked her how she had got on with +Fillingford.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I like him well enough, but—" She paused and smiled reflectively. +"Down at the Simpsons' there was a certain young man—boy he really +was—whom we called Rabbit. That was only because of the shape of his +mouth, and has nothing to do with the story! I used sometimes to walk +home with Rabbit—from evening church, or lawn-tennis parties, and so +on, you know." (Were these the occasions on which she was rather late +for supper—without incurring Chat's rebuke?) "We girls used to laugh at +him because he always began by taking great pains to show you that he +didn't mean to flirt—well, at all events, didn't mean to begin the +flirtation. If you wanted to flirt, you must begin yourself—that was +Rabbit's attitude, and he made it perfectly plain in his behavior.</p> + +<p>"Rabbit can't have been a very amusing youth to walk home with in the +gloaming?" I ventured to suggest.</p> + +<p>"He wasn't, but then there wasn't much choice down at the Simpsons', you +know. Besides, it could be made rather funny with Rabbit. You see, he +wouldn't begin because he had such a terror of being snubbed." She +laughed in an amused reminiscence. "I think I shall call Lord +Fillingford Rabbit," she ended.</p> + +<p>"It'll be very disrespectful."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can't make all the nicknames for yourself!" She paused and +added, apparently with a good deal of satisfaction—"Rabbit—and +Volcano—yes!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE FLICK OF A WHIP</h3> + + +<p>Jenny spent a large part of the winter in Italy, Chat being with her, +Cartmell and I left in charge at home. But early in the New Year she +came back and then, her mourning being over, she launched out. Without +forgetting her father's injunction against spending all her income, she +organized the household on a more extensive scale; new carriages and +more horses, a couple of motors, and a little electric launch for the +lake were among the additions she made. The out-of-doors staff grew till +Cartmell had to ask for an estate-steward to take the routine off his +shoulders, while Mrs. Bennet and Loft blazed with pride at the swelling +numbers of their subordinates in the house itself. Jenny's taste for +splendor came out. She even loved a touch of the gorgeous; old Mr. +Driver's dark blue liveries assumed a decidedly brighter tint, and I +heard her express regret that postilions and four horses were in these +days thought ostentatious except for very great national or local +potentates. "If I were a peeress, I would have them," she declared +rather wistfully. If that were the condition and the only one, after all +we might perhaps live to see the four horses and the postilions at +Breysgate before we were many months older. By now, there was matter for +much speculation about her future; the closer you were to her, the more +doubtful any speculation seemed.</p> + +<p>This was the time of her greatest glory—when she was fresh to her state +and delighting in it, when all the neighborhood seemed to be at her +feet, town and county vying in doing her honor—and in accepting her +hospitality.</p> + +<p>Entertainment followed entertainment; now it was the poor, now it was +the rich, whom she fed and fêted. The crown of her popularity came +perhaps when she declared that she would have no London house and wanted +no London season. Catsford and the county were good enough for her. The +<i>Catsford Herald and Times</i> printed an article on this subject which was +almost lyrical in its anticipation of a return of the good old days when +the aristocracy found their own town enough. It was headed "Catsford a +Metropolis—Why not?" And it was Jenny who was to imbue the borough with +this enviable metropolitan character! This was <i>Redeunt Saturnia regna</i> +with a vengeance!</p> + +<p>To all outward appearance she was behaving admirably—and her +acquaintance with Fillingford had reached to as near intimacy as it was +ever likely to get while it rested on a basis of mere neighborly +friendship. Lady Sarah had been convinced or vanquished—it was +impossible to say which. At any rate she had withdrawn her opposition to +intercourse between the two houses and appeared to contemplate with +resignation, if not with enthusiasm, a prospect of which people had now +begun to talk—not always under their breath. Fillingford Manor and +Breysgate were now united closely enough for folk to ask whether they +were to be united more closely still. For my own part I must admit that, +if Lord Fillingford were wooing, he showed few of the usual signs; but +perhaps Jenny was! I remembered the story of Rabbit—without forgetting +the subject of the other nickname!</p> + +<p>Old Cartmell was a great advocate of the Fillingford alliance. House +laid to house and field to field were anathema to the Prophet; for a +family lawyer they have a wonderful attraction. An estate well-rounded +off, spacious, secure from encroachment and, with proper capital outlay, +returning three per cent.—he admires it as the rest of us a +Velasquez—well, some of us—or others, a thoroughbred. Careful man as +he was, he declined to be dismayed at Jenny's growing expenditure. "The +income's growing, too," he said. "It grows and must grow with the +borough. Old Nick Driver had a very long head! She can't help becoming +richer, whatever she does—in reason." He winked at me, adding, "After +all, it isn't as if she had to buy Fillingford, is it?" I did not feel +quite sure that it was not—and at a high price; but to say that would +have been to travel into another sphere of discussion.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm very glad her affairs are so flourishing. But I wish the new +liveries weren't so nearly sky-blue. I hope she won't want to put you +and me in them!"</p> + +<p>Cartmell paid no heed to the liveries. He took a puff at his cigar and +said, "Now—if only she'll keep straight!" That would have seemed an odd +thing to say—to anyone not near her.</p> + +<p>Yet trouble came—most awkwardly and at a most awkward moment. Octon +himself was the cause of it, and I—unluckily for myself—the only +independent witness of the central incident.</p> + +<p>He had—like Jenny—been away most of the winter, but I had no reason to +suppose that they had met or even been in communication; in fact, I +believe that he was in London most of the time, finishing his new book +and superintending the elaborate illustrations with which it was +adorned. He did, however, reappear at Hatcham Ford close on the heels of +Jenny's return to Breysgate, and the two resumed their old—and somewhat +curious—relations. If ever it were true of two people that they could +live neither with nor without one another, it seemed true of that +couple. He was always seeking her, and she ever ready and eager to +welcome him; yet at every other meeting at least they had a tiff—Jenny +being, I must say, seldom the aggressor, at least in the presence of +third persons: perhaps her offenses, such as they were, were given in +private. But there was one difference which I perceived quickly, but +which Octon seemed slower to notice: I hoped that he might never notice +it at all, or, if he did, accept it peaceably. Jenny preferred, if it +were possible, to receive him when the household party alone was +present; when the era of entertaining set in, he was bidden on the +off-nights. No doubt this practice admitted of being put—and perhaps +was put by Jenny—in a flattering way. But it was impossible to be safe +with him—there was no telling how his temper would take him. So long as +he believed that Jenny herself best liked to see him intimately, all +would go well; but if once he struck on the truth—that she was yielding +deference to the wishes of his enemies, her neighbors—there might very +probably be an explosion. "Volcano" would get active if he thought that +"Rabbit" and company—Jenny had concealed neither nickname from +him—were being consulted. Or he might get just a wayward whim; if his +temper were out, he would make trouble for its own sake—or to see with +how much he could make her put up; each was always trying the limits of +his or her power over the other.</p> + +<p>The actual occasion of his outburst was, as usual, trivial, and +perhaps—far as that was from being invariably the case—afforded him +some shadow of excuse. Neither did Chat help matters. He had sent up +from Hatcham Ford a bunch of splendid yellow roses, and, when he came to +dinner the same evening, he naturally expected to see them on the table. +"Where are my roses?" he asked abruptly, when we were half-way through +dinner.</p> + +<p>"I love them—they're beautiful—but they didn't suit my frock +to-night," said Jenny, smiling. She would have managed the matter all +right if she had been let alone, but Chat must needs put her oar in.</p> + +<p>"They'll look splendid on the table to-morrow night," she remarked—as +though she were saying something soothing and tactful.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you've got a dinner-party to-morrow?" he asked—still calm, but +growing dangerous.</p> + +<p>"Nobody you'd care about," Jenny assured him; she had given Chat a look +which immediately produced symptoms of flutters.</p> + +<p>"Who's coming?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, only Lord Fillingford and Lady Sarah, the Wares, the Rector, the +Aspenicks, and one or two more."</p> + +<p>"H'm. My roses are good enough for that lot, but I'm not, eh?"</p> + +<p>Jenny's hand was forced; Chat had undermined her position. Not even for +the sake of policy did she love to do an unhandsome thing—still less to +be found out in doing one. To use the roses and slight the donor would +not be handsome. She knew Aspenick's objection to meeting Octon, but +probably she thought that she could keep Aspenick in order.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea you'd care about it. I thought you liked coming quietly +better. I like it so much better when I can have you to myself."</p> + +<p>No use now! His prickles were out; he would not be cajoled.</p> + +<p>"So I may as a rule—but it's rather marked when you never ask me to +meet anyone."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted to see you at dinner to-morrow," said Jenny. "Will +you come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will come—I hope I know how to behave myself, don't I?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you know well enough," she answered, delicately emphasizing +the difference between knowledge and practice. "All right, I shall +expect you."</p> + +<p>"I know the meaning of it. That little Aspenick minx and her fool of a +husband are trying to get me boycotted—that's it."</p> + +<p>Jenny, as her wont was, tried to smooth him down, but with little +success. He went off early, still very sulky, and growling about the +Aspenicks. For what it is worth, there was no doubt that they were now +busy leaders in the cabal against him, and he knew it.</p> + +<p>"It won't be very pleasant, but we must carry it off with brave faces," +said Jenny, referring to the next day's dinner. She looked vexed, +though, at this crossing of her arrangements.</p> + +<p>Probably the dinner would have passed off tolerably, if not +comfortably—for Aspenick was a gentleman, and even Octon might feel +that he ought to be on his good behavior—when his temper recovered. But +unluckily his temper had not recovered by eleven o'clock the following +morning, and it was then that the lamentable thing happened.</p> + +<p>I had finished my after-breakfast work with Jenny and had left the +house, to go down the hill to the Old Priory. The road through the park +crosses the path I had to follow, at about seventy yards from the house. +Approaching this road, I saw Lady Aspenick's tandem coming along on my +right. She was, as I have said before, an accomplished whip, and +tandem-driving was a favorite pastime of hers. To-day she appeared to be +trying a new leader; at any rate the animal was very skittish, now +rearing, now getting out of line, now sidling along—doing anything, in +fact, but his plain duty. She was driving slowly and carefully, while +the two grooms were half-standing, half-kneeling behind, looking over +her shoulders and evidently ready to jump down and run to the leader's +head at any moment. I stood watching their progress; it was pretty to +see her drive. Then I became aware of Octon's massive figure coming from +the opposite direction; he was walking full in the middle of the road, +which at this point is not very broad—just wide enough for two +carriages to pass one another between the banks, which rise sharply on +either side to the height of nearly three feet.</p> + +<p>As Lady Aspenick drew nearer to Octon, one of the grooms whistled. Octon +gave way—a little. Apparently the groom—whether Lady Aspenick spoke to +him or not I could not see—thought that there was not yet room enough, +for he whistled again, waving his hand impatiently. Octon edged a little +more to the side of the road and then stood still, apparently waiting +for them to pass. He was by no means at the side of the road—neither +was he now in the middle; perhaps he was a third of the way across; and, +so far as I could judge, there was room for them to pass—and a +sufficient margin, at any rate for a steady team. Now the groom +shouted—a loud "Hi!" or some such word—in a peremptory way. I heard +Octon's reply plainly. "There's plenty of room, I tell you." Lady +Aspenick had her whip in her hand—ready, no doubt, to give her restless +leader a flick to make him mind his manners as they went by. While this +happened, I had begun to walk on again slowly, meaning to speak to Octon +when the lady had passed. I was about fifteen yards away—and the tandem +was just approaching where Octon stood. Just as she came up to him, Lady +Aspenick loosed the long lash of her whip; it flew out and I looked to +see a jump from the leader, who was dancing and capering in a very +restive way. But unless she took great care—or Octon moved a bit——</p> + +<p>The next instant, while the idea was still incomplete in my mind, the +end of the lash caught him full on the face. He jumped back with a shout +of rage. The leader gave a wild plunge toward the other side of the +road; the cart swayed and rocked. The grooms leaped down and ran as hard +as they could to the leader's head. Octon sprang forward, caught hold of +the whip, wrenched it from Lady Aspenick's hand, almost pulling her out +of her seat, broke it in the middle across his knee, and flung the +fragments down on the road. I ran up hastily.</p> + +<p>"You did that on purpose," he said, his voice shaking with rage. There +was a red streak across his face from the cheek bone to the chin.</p> + +<p>She was pale, but she looked at him calmly through her eyeglasses.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," she answered, "but if I had, it would have been only your +deserts. Why didn't you give me room?"</p> + +<p>"There was plenty of room if you knew how to drive; and, if you wanted +more, you could have asked for it civilly."</p> + +<p>"You must have seen I had a young horse." She turned to me. "Give me my +whip, please, Mr. Austin. You saw what happened? I'll ask my husband to +come and see you about it." Then she ordered her men to take out the +refractory leader, and lead him home; she would drive back with the +wheeler. She took no more notice of Octon, nor he of her (unless to +watch her grooms' proceedings with a sullen stare), but as she started +off, holding the broken butt of the whip in her hand, she called to me, +"Tell Miss Driver we're looking forward to dinner to-night."</p> + +<p>The grooms had looked dangerously at Octon, and were now saying +something to one another; but it needed at least one to hold the horse, +and Octon would be far more than a match for either of them singly. His +angry eyes seemed only to hope that they would give him some excuse for +violence.</p> + +<p>"Follow your mistress," I said to them. "It's no affair of yours."</p> + +<p>I think that they were glad to get my sanction for their retreat. Off +they went, and I was left alone with Octon.</p> + +<p>"If it had been a man, I wouldn't have left a whole bone in his body. +She struck me deliberately—on purpose."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a man. Why didn't you give her more room?"</p> + +<p>"There was plenty of room?" he persisted. "The whole road isn't hers, is +it?" With that he turned on his heel and sauntered off toward the south +gate, in the direction of his own house.</p> + +<p>There was the incident—and I had the grave misfortune of being the only +independent witness of it. There was the incident—and there was the +dinner-party in the evening, to which both the Aspenicks and Leonard +Octon were bidden. Clearly the matter could not stand where it was; it +was, alas! no less clear that I should have to give my evidence. Of +course the meeting at dinner must not take place; whatever else might or +might not follow from the affair, that much was certain. I went back to +the house and asked to see Jenny.</p> + +<p>I told her the story plainly and fully—all that I had seen and all that +had been said; she did not interrupt me once.</p> + +<p>"There it is," I ended. "His case is that he gave her plenty of room and +that she purposely lashed him over the face. Hers is that he gave her +too little room, deliberately annoying her, that her leader was restive +and she had to use her whip, and that, if she hit him, it was his own +fault for standing where he did."</p> + +<p>"His snatching away the whip and breaking it—isn't that bad?" she +asked. "Or if he thought she meant to hit him?"</p> + +<p>"Then it's still bad, I suppose, since she's a woman; but it's perhaps +understandable—above all in him."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's your own opinion about it?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I don't want to give," I objected.</p> + +<p>"But you must. I have to come to some decision about this."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—I think he did leave her room—enough and a little more +than enough; but I also think that he meant to annoy her. I'm sure he +didn't mean to put her in danger of an upset, but I do think that, with +such a horse as she was driving, an upset might have been the result, +and he ought to have thought of that—only he doesn't know much about +horses. On the other hand I don't think she deliberately made up her +mind to hit him—but I do think she meant to go as near to it as she +could without actually doing it; I think she meant to make him jump. +That's about my idea of the truth of the matter."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I daresay," she said thoughtfully. "When Sir John comes to you, +bring him straight up here. They mustn't meet to-night, of course, but I +should like to see Sir John first—if he comes this morning or soon +after lunch."</p> + +<p>"It's all very tiresome," said I lugubriously.</p> + +<p>She suddenly put her hands in mine—in one of her moments of impulse. +"Oh, yes, yes, dear friend!" she murmured with an acute note of distress +in her voice. Tiresome as the affair was, it hardly seemed to call for +that; but I had not yet realized her position in its full difficulty; I +did not know what every new proof of Octon's "impossibility" meant to +her.</p> + +<p>Sir John arrived, hot-haste, before lunch. Happily Fillingford was with +him. I say happily, for I gathered that the angry husband's first +intention had been to go straight to Hatcham Ford and undertake the +horse-whipping of Leonard Octon—which enterprise must have ended in +broken bones for Sir John, and probably the police court for both +combatants. Fillingford happened to be with him when Lady Aspenick +arrived at home and told her story; with difficulty he dissuaded +Aspenick from violent measures; above all, nothing must get into the +papers; all the same, it was a case for decisive private action. +According to my orders I took Sir John up to Jenny, and Fillingford came +with us.</p> + +<p>There—before her—we had the whole story over again. Sir John told his +wife's version, I put Octon's forward against it—if only for fair +play's sake. Sir John naturally would have none of Octon's, nor would +Fillingford. Then I repeated my own impression of the affair. Any points +in it which made for Octon Sir John violently rejected; Fillingford's +attitude was wiser, the position he took up less open to the charge of +prejudice; he disliked Octon intensely, but he would not rest his case +on the weak foundation of an angry temper.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite content to accept Mr. Austin's view of the facts, which he +has given us so clearly and so impartially. Where does his view lead? +Why to this—Not only was Mr. Octon inexcusably violent at the end, but +he was the original aggressor. He did not, Mr. Austin is convinced, mean +to cause danger to Lady Aspenick, but he did mean to cause her +vexation—in fact to offer her an affront. In my opinion anything on her +part that followed is imputable to his own fault, and he had no title to +resent it. I base my decision not on Lady Aspenick's account, but on Mr. +Austin's independent testimony; and I say that Mr. Octon behaved as no +gentleman and as no good neighbor should."</p> + +<p>Jenny had listened to all the stories in silence, and in silence also +she heard Fillingford's summing-up. Now she looked at him and asked +briefly, "What follows?"</p> + +<p>"It follows that he must be cut," interposed Aspenick in dogged anger.</p> + +<p>"We have a right to protect ourselves—above all the ladies of our +families—from the chance of such occurrences. They mustn't be exposed +to them if we can help it; they certainly need not and must not be +exposed to the unpleasantness of meeting the man who causes them. We +have a right to act on that line—and I, for one, feel bound to act on +it, Miss Driver."</p> + +<p>"Not a man in the place will do anything else," declared Aspenick.</p> + +<p>But I was wondering what Jenny would do. Almost without disguise they +were presenting to her an ultimatum. They were saying, "If you want him, +you can't have us. We can't come where he comes. Is he to go on coming +to Breysgate? Is he to go on using your park?" She did not like +dictation—nor did she like sending her friends away. To send them away +on dictation—would she do that? Or would she fall into one of her +rages, bid them all go hang, and throw in her lot with boycotted Octon? +She turned to me.</p> + +<p>"Do you agree with what these gentlemen say?" she asked.</p> + +<p>In the end I liked Octon or, at any rate, found him very interesting, +and I was therefore ready, for myself, to put up with his tempers and +his tantrums. People who did not like him nor find him interesting could +not be asked to do that. And he stood condemned on my own evidence.</p> + +<p>"They are quite within their rights," I had to answer.</p> + +<p>She was not in a rage; she was anxious and distressed. Nor was the +anxiety all hers. Aspenick indeed had at the moment no thought but of +anger on his wife's account, but Fillingford must have had other things +in his mind. To put it at the lowest, he valued his acquaintance with +the mistress of Breysgate Priory; there were good grounds for guessing +that he valued it very much. If he had learned anything at all about +her, he must have known that he was risking it now. But he showed no +hesitation; he awaited her answer with a grave deference which declared +the importance he attached to it but gave no reason to hope that his own +course of action could be affected, whatever the answer might be.</p> + +<p>Neither did she give the impression of hesitating—it was not exactly +that. Whether in her heart she hesitated I cannot tell; if she did, she +would not let them see it. Her demeanor betrayed nothing more than a +pained reluctance to condemn utterly, to recognize that one who had been +received as a friend and as a gentleman had by his own fault forfeited +his claim to those titles. Her delay in giving her decision—for the +real question now was whether she would join in Octon's ostracism—did +not impugn their judgment nor seem to weigh their merits against the +culprit's. It did not declare a doubt of their being right; it said only +with what pain she would recognize that they were right.</p> + +<p>"Yes—it's the only thing," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"I was sure you would agree with us—painful as such a course is," +Fillingford said.</p> + +<p>"It's only cutting a cad," Aspenick grumbled, half under his breath. +Jenny did not or would not hear him.</p> + +<p>The bargain was struck, and fully understood without more words. Jenny's +friends must not be exposed to meeting Octon at Breysgate or in +Breysgate park. They would be strangers to Octon; if Jenny would be +their friend, she must be a stranger to him. Dropping Octon was the +condition of holding her place in their society. She understood the +condition and accepted it. There was no more to be said.</p> + +<p>They took leave and she did not ask them to stay to lunch. Her farewell +to Aspenick was cold, though she made a civil reference to seeing him +again at dinner—nothing was said about Octon in that connection! But +toward Fillingford she showed a marked, if subdued, graciousness. +Clearly she meant to convey to him that, distressed as she was by the +incident and its necessary consequences, she attached no blame to him +for the part he had taken—nay, was grateful to him for his counsel and +guidance.</p> + +<p>"I never had any doubt of your coming to a right decision," he told her, +holding her hand for a moment longer than he need. She looked into his +eyes, but said nothing; she gave the air of being heartily content to +surrender her judgment to his.</p> + +<p>I saw them off and came back to her. She was still standing in the same +place, looking very thoughtful and frowning slightly; it was by no means +the trustful expression with which her eyes had dwelt on Fillingford's.</p> + +<p>"Directly after lunch I must go down to Hatcham Ford and see Mr. Octon. +I want you to come with me."</p> + +<p>"I? Not Miss Chatters?"</p> + +<p>"You—not Chat. Don't be stupid," she said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>A SECRET TREATY</h3> + + +<p>Jenny's first remark as we drove down together to Hatcham Ford seemed to +have very little to do with the matter in hand. Still less to do with +it, as one would think, had the fact that, just before starting, she +had—I learned it afterwards—given Chat a piece of handsome old lace.</p> + +<p>"I like your name," she remarked. "'Austin Austin'—quite a good idea of +your parents'! One's only got to drop the 'Mr.' to be friendly at once. +No learning a strange Algernon, or Edward, or things of that kind!"</p> + +<p>"Do drop it," said I.</p> + +<p>"I have, Austin," said Jenny. She edged ever so little nearer to me, yet +looked steadily out of the window on the other side of the brougham. +"I'm frightened," she added in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Upon my honor," said I, "I don't wonder at it."</p> + +<p>Such was the beginning of a remarkable kindness, a gentleness, almost an +appealing attitude, which Jenny displayed during several weeks that +followed. I must not flatter myself—Chat shared the rays of kindly +sunshine. If I were promoted to the Christian name, Chat got the lace.</p> + +<p>"What will you call me?" she asked. "'Miss Driver' sounds—Say 'Jenny'!"</p> + +<p>"Before the county? Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, when we're alone?"</p> + +<p>"Shall it be Lady Jenny? For ourselves?"</p> + +<p>She sighed acquiescence. "You're a great comfort to me," she added. +"You'll come in, won't you, if you hear me scream?"</p> + +<p>"Come in?"</p> + +<p>"I've got to see him alone, you know." She raised her hands for an +instant, as though in lamentation; "Oh, why is he like that?"</p> + +<p>There was no treating this lightly—for one who felt for her what I did. +I was no such fool as not to see that her sudden access of graciousness +had a purpose—I had to be conciliated and stroked the right way for +some reason; so doubtless had Chat. But again I was, so I humbly trust, +no such churl as to resent the purpose—though I did not know precisely +what it was. I was her 'man,' as the old word was—her vassal. If my +liking or my honor refused that situation, well and good—I could end +it. While it lasted, I was hers. Within me the thing went deeper still +than that.</p> + +<p>She was frightened. Therefore she was very gracious, seeking allies +however humble. I declare that I have always limited my expectation of +attachments entirely disinterested. Are there any? Who cherishes a +friend from whom there is neither profit nor pleasure to be had? Or, at +any rate, from whom neither has been had? The past obligation is often +acknowledged—and acquitted—with a five-pound note.</p> + +<p>The westering sun caught her face through the window as we entered the +outskirts of Catsford; her eyes looked like a couple of new sovereigns.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm frightened."</p> + +<p>"Not you! You've courage enough for a dozen."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I like you to say that! But I must make terms with him, you know." +She caught and pressed my hand. "But I don't believe I'm quite a +coward."</p> + +<p>All this could mean but one thing—Octon had a great hold on her; yet +against him was a powerful incentive. Between the two—between his +power, which was great, and the power against him whose greatness she +had acknowledged to Fillingford that morning, she must patch up +conditions of peace—a secret treaty. I had no idea what the terms could +or would be. If Octon had the naming of them, they would not be easy.</p> + +<p>Hatcham Ford just held its freedom against the encroaching town. No more +than fifty yards from its gates was the last villa—a red-brick house +of eccentric architecture but comfortable dimensions; its side windows +looked toward the gate of the Ford, and on the left its garden ran up to +the road on to which the shrubberies encircling the old house faced. A +tall oak fence surrounded the garden—on the gate was written, in large +gilt letters, "Ivydene." That house, like so many in Catsford, was on +Jenny's land. I wished that Cartmell would keep a tighter hand on his +builders.</p> + +<p>Nearly swallowed by the flood of modern erections as it was, the old +house still preserved its sequestered charm. The garden was hidden from +the road by a close screen in front; at the back it ran gently down to +the murmuring river. Within were low ceilings crossed by old beams, and +oak paneling everywhere. Octon's tenancy and personality were marked by +clusters of barbaric spears and knives, hung against the oak, burnished +to a high polish, flashing against their time-blackened background.</p> + +<p>Visitors were not expected. Octon's man—a small wizened fellow of full +middle age—seemed rather startled by the sight of Jenny; he hastily +pushed, rather than ushered, us into the dining room, a room on the left +of the doorway. In a moment or two Octon came to us. He stood in the +doorway, his big frame looking immense under the low lintel which his +head all but touched.</p> + +<p>"You're not the visitors I expected," he said with a laugh. "I've stayed +in, waiting for Aspenick."</p> + +<p>"Sir John won't come," said Jenny. "But I must speak to you—alone." She +turned to me. "You're sure you don't mind, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you must see him alone. Where shall I go?"</p> + +<p>"Stay here," he said. "We'll go next door—in the study."</p> + +<p>He held the door for her, and she went out. I heard them enter a room +next to the one in which I was; the door was shut after them. Then for a +long while I heard nothing more, except the murmur of the little river, +which seemed loud to my unaccustomed ears, though probably people living +in the house would soon cease to notice it.</p> + +<p>Presently I heard their voices; his was so loud that, for fear of +hearing the words, I had deliberately to abstract my mind by looking at +this, that, and the other thing in the room—more spears and knives on +the walls, books about his subject on the shelves, a couple of fine old +silver tankards gleaming on the mantelpiece. The voices died down again +just as I had exhausted the interest of the tankards, and taken in my +hand a miniature which stood on the top of the marble clock.</p> + +<p>His voice fell to inaudibility; the welcome silence left me alone with +the little picture. It represented a child perhaps fourteen years old—a +small, delicate face, dark in complexion, touched on the cheeks with a +red flush, with large dark eyes, framed in plentiful black hair which +curled about the forehead. Whoever the young girl was, she was +beautiful; her eyes seemed to gaze at me from some remote kingdom of +childish purity; her lips laughed that I should feel awe at her eyes. +How in the world came she on Octon's mantelpiece?</p> + +<p>Picked up somewhere for half a sovereign—as a pretty thing! That was +the suggestion of common sense, in rebellion against a certain sense of +over-strained nerves under which I was conscious of suffering. Yet, +after all, Octon, like other men, must have kith and kin. The style of +the picture was too modern for it to be his mother's. There were such +things as sisters; but this did not look like Octon's stock. An old +picture of a bygone sweetheart—that held the field as the likeliest +explanation; well, except the one profanely offered by common sense. +Octon was, to and for me, so much a part of Jenny's life and +surroundings that it was genuinely difficult to realize him as a man +with other belongings or associations; yet I could not but recognize +that in all probability he had many—perhaps some apart from those which +he might chance to have inherited.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, through the wall, I heard a wail—surely I heard a little sob? +The picture was instantly forgotten. I stood intensely awake, alert, +watchful. If that sound came again, I determined that I would break in +on their conference. For minutes I waited, but the sound came no more. I +flung myself into a chair by the fire and began to smoke. I fell into a +meditation. No further sound came to break it; the murmur of the river +already grew familiar.</p> + +<p>I heard a door open; the next moment they were in the room with me.</p> + +<p>"What a time we've kept you! Have you been very bored?" asked Jenny.</p> + +<p>Her words and her tone were light, but her face was as I had never seen +it. It was drawn with the fatigue of deep feeling: she had been +struggling; if I did not err, her eyes bore signs of crying—I had never +known her cry. At that moment I think I knew to the full that Octon was, +for good or evil, a great thing in her life. How could it be for good? +She herself, she alone, must bear the burden of answering that question.</p> + +<p>But he, standing behind her, wore an unmistakable air of victory. So +confident was it, and so assured the whole aspect of his dominant +figure, that I prepared myself to hear that the verdict of the morning +was reversed and that the neighborhood—and all that meant—were to go +hang. Yet his first words contradicted both my forecast and his own +appearance. He spoke in a chafing tone.</p> + +<p>"Behold in me, Austin, the Banished Duke! Never again may I tread the +halls of Breysgate—at any rate, not for the present! I have offended a +proud baronet—a belted earl demands my expulsion. And my liege lady +banishes me!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be so silly," said Jenny—but gently, ever so gently, and with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Serves you right, in my opinion," said I.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," he answered, "and I bear no malice. I'm glad Aspenick +didn't force me to wring his neck. But I shall be very lonely—nobody +comes here—well, not many are invited! Will you drop in on the exile +and smoke a pipe now and then after dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I'll look you up." My tone was impatient, I know: his +burlesque was neither intelligible nor grateful to me.</p> + +<p>"After dinner, if that suits you. I'm going to take advantage of my +solitude to work in the daytime. The door will be barred till nine +o'clock."</p> + +<p>I nodded—and looked at my watch.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jenny, "we must be going. Everything's settled, Austin, +and—and Mr. Octon has been very kind."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear that anyhow," I said grumpily. If he had been kind, +why had I heard that wail?</p> + +<p>In fact I was thoroughly puzzled—and therefore both vexed and uneasy. +He accepted his banishment—and yet was friendly. That result seemed a +great victory for Jenny—yet she did not look victorious. It was Octon +who wore the air of exultation and self-satisfaction; yet he had been +thrown to the wolves, abandoned to the pack of Fillingfords and +Aspenicks. Well, that could not be the whole truth of it, though what +more there might be I could not guess.</p> + +<p>He came with us down the gravel path which led from the hall door to the +road, where the brougham was waiting. Jenny pointed across the +road—where Ivydene stood with its strip of garden.</p> + +<p>"That's the house I meant, you know," she said, evidently referring to +something that had passed in their private conversation.</p> + +<p>He stood smiling at her, with his hands in his pockets. He really was, +for him, ridiculously amiable, though his amiability, like everything +else about him, was rough, almost boisterous.</p> + +<p>"If you must go on with your beastly Institute," he said, "and must have +a beastly house for a beastly office, to make your beastly plans and do +your other beastly work in, why, I daresay that beastly house will do as +well as any other beastly house for your beastly purpose. Only do choose +beastly clerks, or whatever they're going to be, who haven't got any +beastly children to play beastly games and make a beastly noise in the +garden."</p> + +<p>Quite the first I had heard of this idea! Quite the first time, too, +that Leonard Octon had been so agreeable—he meant to be agreeable, +though the humor was like a schoolboy's—about the Institute!</p> + +<p>"I think I'll speak to Mr. Bindlecombe about it," said Jenny, as she +gave him her hand. Her farewell was more than gracious; it was grateful, +it was even appealing. Nor for all my anger and vexation could I deny +the real feeling in his eyes as he looked at her; he was admiring; he +was affectionate; nay more, he seemed to be giving her his thanks.</p> + +<p>She was very silent all the way home, answering only by a "yes" or a +"no" the few remarks I ventured to make. On her own account she made +only one—as the result of a long reverie. "It'll all blow over some +day," she said.</p> + +<p>If it was her only observation, at least it was a characteristic one. +Jenny had a great belief in things "blowing over"—a belief that +inspired and explained much of her diplomacy. What seemed sometimes in +retrospect to have been far-sighted scheming or elaborate cunning had +been in reality no more than waiting for a thing to "blow over"—holding +the balance, maintaining an artificial equilibrium by a number of clever +manipulations, until things should right themselves and gain, or regain, +a proper and natural basis. The best opinion I could form of her present +proceedings was that they rested on some such idea. For the moment she +banned Octon under the pressure of her other neighbors; but in time the +memory of his offenses would grow dimmer—and in time also her own +position and power would be more firmly established. Then he could come +back. She might have persuaded him into good humor by such a plea as +that. If it were so, I thought that she had misled him and perhaps +deceived herself. People have long memories for social offenses. +And—one could not help asking the question—what of Fillingford? Where +was he to fit in, what part was he to play? Was a millennium to come +when he was to lie down on Jenny's hearthrug side by side with Octon?</p> + +<p>There was a lady too many at dinner—a man short! Jenny could have +avoided this blot on her arrangements by eliminating Chat—and poor Chat +was quite accustomed to being eliminated. But she chose not to adopt +this course. I rather think that she liked to feel herself a bit of a +martyr in the matter, but possibly she was also minded to make a little +demonstration of her submission, to let them guess that Octon had been +coming and that she had acted on their orders with merciless +promptitude. In other respects the party was one of her most successful. +Great as was the strain which she had been through in the afternoon, she +herself was gay and sparkling. And how they petted her! Lady Aspenick +might naturally have looked to be the heroine of the occasion—nor had +she any reason to complain of a lack of interest in her story (I had to +complain of a great deal too much interest in mine)—but it was for +Jenny that the highest honors were reserved; the most joy was over the +one sinner that repented.</p> + +<p>Fillingford, of course, took her in to dinner. It was not in the man to +pay what are called "marked attentions" before the eyes of others, but +his manner to her was characterized by a pronounced friendliness and +deference; he seemed to be trying to atone for the coercion which he had +been compelled to exert earlier in the day. He did not fall into the +mistake of treating her acquiescence as a trifle or the case as merely +that of "cutting a cad," to use Aspenick's curtly contemptuous phrase. +He raised her action to the rank of an obligation conferred on her +neighbors and especially on himself. He was man of the world enough to +convey this impression without departing too far from the habitual +reserve of his demeanor.</p> + +<p>Lady Aspenick looked at the pair through her eyeglasses; we had at last +exhausted the incident of the morning—though we had not settled the +precise degree of accidentality which attached to the collision between +her whip and Octon's face; under a veiled cross-examination she had +become rather vague about it—that may weigh a little in Octon's favor.</p> + +<p>"It's a long while since I've seen Lord Fillingford so lively," she +remarked. "He seems to get on so well with Miss Driver. As a rule, you +know, we women despair of him."</p> + +<p>"Has he such a bad character among you as that?"</p> + +<p>"He seemed to have given himself up to being old long before he need. +He's only forty-three, I think." She laughed. "There, in my heart I +believe I'm matchmaking, like a true woman!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe you are. Well, these speculations are always +interesting."</p> + +<p>"We're beginning to make them in the neighborhood, I can tell you, Mr. +Austin."</p> + +<p>"And—knowing the neighborhood—I can believe you, Lady Aspenick."</p> + +<p>"You've no special information?" she asked, laughing. "It would make me +so important!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're important enough already—after this morning. And I know +nothing—absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>"You mean to say Miss Driver doesn't tell you——?"</p> + +<p>"Actually she does not—and I'm not sure I should know if she did."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm only chaffing. But it would be rather—ideal."</p> + +<p>"H'm. Forty-three may not be senile, but would you call it ideal? For a +romance?"</p> + +<p>"Who's talking of romances? I'm on the question of marriage, Mr. +Austin."</p> + +<p>"But if one can afford a romance? What's the use of being rich?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, it's the poor people who can go in for romance. They've nothing +to lose! Divide nothing a year between two—or, presently, four—and +still it's no less."</p> + +<p>"But the rich have nothing to gain—except romance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sometimes. At the time of the Coronation I had quite a quarrel +with Jack because he wasn't a peer. He said I ought to have thought of +it before, but I said that that would have been quite disloyal." She +lowered her voice to a discreet whisper. "I do hope she's not distressed +about this morning?"</p> + +<p>"A little, I'm afraid. Octon had his interesting side for her."</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry! I must be very nice to her after dinner."</p> + +<p>Lady Aspenick was very "nice" to Jenny after dinner, and so were all of +them. She seemed to take new rank that evening—to undergo a kind of +informal but very real adoption into the inner circle of families which +made the local society. She was no longer a stranger entertaining them; +she had become one of themselves. This could not all be reward for +ostracizing Octon. Lady Aspenick's conversation, in itself not +remarkable for depth or originality, was a surface sign of another +current of opinion bearing strongly on Jenny's position. But no doubt +acquiescence in the ostracism was a condition precedent both to the +adoption and to that remoter prospect which inspired it.</p> + +<p>Jenny's eyes were very clear. After they had all gone, I returned to the +drawing-room to bid her good night. Chat had already scuttled off to +bed—dinner parties kept her up later than was to her liking. Jenny was +leaning her elbow on the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I've been good—and I've had my sugar-plums."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and they've got plenty more for you if you go on being good."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes." Her voice sounded tired, and her face looked strained.</p> + +<p>"Even some very big ones!"</p> + +<p>Up to now she had shown no sign of resenting the pressure put upon her; +she had been sorrowful, but had displayed no anger. She did not even now +challenge the justice of Fillingford's decision; but she broke out into +a rage against the control claimed over herself.</p> + +<p>"They force me to things," she said in a low voice, but in a tone full +of feeling. "They tell me I must do this or do that, or else I can't be +one of them, I can't rank with them, I can't, I suppose, marry Lord +Fillingford! Well, I yield where I must, but sometimes I get my own way +all the same. Let them look out for that! Yes, I get my own way in the +end, Austin."</p> + +<p>"No doubt—not that I know what is your way in this particular matter."</p> + +<p>Her little outbreak of anger passed as quickly as it had come. She +shrugged her shoulders with a woeful smile.</p> + +<p>"My own way! So one talks. What is one's way? The way one would choose? +No—it's generally the way one has to tread. It's in that sense that I +shall get my own way."</p> + +<p>"You'll try for it in the other sense, though, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, perhaps I shall—and I shan't try less because Lord Fillingford +and the Aspenicks either scold or pet me."</p> + +<p>"Well, but it's hardly reasonable to expect to have things both ways, is +it?"</p> + +<p>She came to me, laughing, and took hold of my hands: "But if I choose to +have them both ways, sir?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Then, of course," said I, "the case is different."</p> + +<p>"I will have them both ways," said Jenny.</p> + +<p>"You can't."</p> + +<p>"See if I don't!" she cried in merry defiance. "Only, mind you, not a +word of it—to the county!" She pressed my hands and let them go. "Oh, +I'm so tired!"</p> + +<p>"Stop thinking—do stop thinking—and go to sleep."</p> + +<p>She nodded at me kindly and reassuringly as Loft came in to put out the +lights. I left her standing there in her rich frock, with her jewels +gleaming, yet with her eyes again weary and mournful. She had had a bad +day of it, for all her triumph in the evening. Trying to have it both +ways was hard work.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE INSTITUTE CLERK</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Bindlecombe was jubilant. Jenny's vacillations were over—the +Institute was really on the way. A Provisional Committee had been +formed; it was composed of Bindlecombe (in the Chair, in virtue of his +office of Mayor, which he still held), Fillingford, Cartmell, Alison the +Rector of the old parish church, and Jenny. I was what I believe they +term in business circles "alternate" with—or to?—Jenny; when she could +not attend, I was to act and, if need be, vote in her place. As a fact, +I generally went even when she did. Since the Institute was to serve for +women as well as for men, a subsidiary and advisory Ladies' Committee +was formed—and Lady Sarah Lacey was induced to accept the chairmanship +of it. Jenny was justifiably proud of this triumph; but the Ladies' +Committee had nothing to do with finance, and finance was, of course, +the question of paramount interest, in the early stages at least. The +original ten thousand pounds which I had allocated to the Memorial Hall +looked a mere trifle now. The talk was of eighty thousand—with a +hundred thousand for a top limit. Over these figures Cartmell looked +important, but not outraged—evidently the Driver estate was shaping +well. But it was, as Jenny remarked, impossible to be precise on the +subject of figures, until we had more definite ideas about what we +wanted to do. Plans were, she declared, the first necessity—provisional +plans, at all events—and she was for having them drawn up at once. +Bindlecombe was in no way reluctant, but opined that plans depended +largely on site; must not the question of site be taken in hand +simultaneously? Jenny replied that Mr. Bindlecombe had so convinced her +of the unique suitability of Hatcham Ford that she was in negotiation +with Mr. Octon. Cartmell looked a trifle surprised—I do not think that +he had heard of these negotiations. Jenny added that in two years' time +she would be free to act of her own will; but in the first place two +years was long to wait, and in the second she was anxious to deal with +Mr. Octon in a friendly spirit. There was a feeling that this was +carrying neighborliness too far, but Fillingford, content with what +Jenny had already done in regard to Octon, came to her help, pronouncing +that the diplomatic way was expedient: No excuse for any opposition +should be given; you could never tell who might or might not, for his +own purposes, get up a party. If Mr. Octon proved unapproachable—he +chose the word with care and gave it with a neutral impassiveness—it +would be time enough to talk of rights.</p> + +<p>"We can begin on something at once," Jenny declared. "I'm going to ask +Mr. Cartmell to make arrangements to put a house at our disposal for +offices. We should hold our meetings there, and I should propose to +employ a clerk to keep our records and, as time goes on, to help with +the plans and so on." She turned to Bindlecombe. "You know that house +next to Hatcham Ford—a new red house? It's got very good windows and an +open outlook. Wouldn't that do for us? I forget the name—something +rather absurd."</p> + +<p>"Ivydene," said Cartmell. He had every detail of her property at his +finger ends.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it," said Jenny, with a nod of recollection.</p> + +<p>Everybody approved of Ivydene for the suggested purpose, and the +Committee broke up with the usual expressions of gratitude to and +admiration of Miss Driver. "She does things so handsomely—and with such +head, too!" said Bindlecombe.</p> + +<p>I walked away with Alison, the Rector, for whom I had a great liking. He +was a fine fellow, physically and mentally—a tall, strong-built man of +forty, with a keen blue eye. He had "done wonders," as they say, in +Catsford and was on the sure road to promotion—if he would take it. He +was sincere, pious, and humble; but his humility was personal. It did +not extend to his office or to the claims of the Church he represented.</p> + +<p>He asked me if I would lay before Jenny the merits of a fund he was +raising to build yet another new district church, to meet the ever +growing needs of Catsford. I replied that I had no doubt she would be +glad to give a donation.</p> + +<p>"So far, so good," said Alison—but his tone did not sound contented.</p> + +<p>"She's sure to give something substantial—she's like her father in +that."</p> + +<p>"In the way of money I had nothing to complain of from Mr. Driver. +Anything else I suppose you'll tell me I couldn't expect, as he was a +Unitarian."</p> + +<p>"I remember he used to say he'd been brought up a Unitarian."</p> + +<p>"That's what we seem to be coming to! When it's a question of a man's +religion, you remember what he used to say he was brought up as!" +Alison's tone became sarcastic. "Well, then, his daughter's a +Church-woman, isn't she—by the same excellent evidence?"</p> + +<p>"She lived five years in a clergyman's family," I answered +discreetly—feeling that it was safer to stick to indisputable facts. +"She attends church fairly often, doesn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, fairly often." He repeated my words with a contemptuous grimace. +"People who attend church fairly often, Austin, are the people whom, if +the good old days could come back, I should like to burn."</p> + +<p>"Of course you would. You all would, if you dared say so."</p> + +<p>"Just two or three to start with. I should like it done very +conspicuously—in the market place."</p> + +<p>"The worst of it is that you're really quite sincere in all this."</p> + +<p>He pressed my arm. "I don't want to burn you. You've thought, though +you've thought wrong. And you've been through tribulation. It's the +people who in their hearts just don't——"</p> + +<p>"Care a damn?" I profanely suggested.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he agreed with a laugh and a grip on my wrist which distinctly +hurt.</p> + +<p>"But I don't think Miss Driver's quite one of those. At any rate she's +intellectually interested—talks about things, and so on."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Yes, I daresay. Well, she's a remarkable girl. Look +here—she's worth having, and I'm going to try to get hold of her."</p> + +<p>"You never will, though you try for ever—not in your sense. She never +surrenders."</p> + +<p>"Not even to God?"</p> + +<p>"Speaking through you?"</p> + +<p>"Through my office—yes."</p> + +<p>"Aye, there's the rub! Besides—well, I can't discuss her from a moral +point of view; any information I may have seems somehow to have been +acquired confidentially."</p> + +<p>"That's quite right, Austin."</p> + +<p>"I'll only put before you a general suggestion. Doesn't our disposition +determine our attitude to these things much oftener than our attitude is +shaped by our opinions? Hence individual modifications—variations from +the general trend, whatever that may be. What a man—or woman—is in +worldly relations, isn't he apt to be in regard to religious affairs? If +a man thinks for himself in worldly affairs——"</p> + +<p>"I'm not against thought," he broke in. "That's the eternal +misunderstanding!"</p> + +<p>"But so often against the results of it?" I suggested. "And one reason +among others for that is because the result of individual thought is +often a decision to suspend generally accepted views in one's own +case—which you fellows don't like. I don't mind going so far as to say +that I think Miss Driver would be capable of suspending a generally +accepted view in her own case—but she wouldn't do it without thought or +indifferently. She would do it as a well-considered exercise of power. +Some people like power—I don't know whether a priest can understand +that?"</p> + +<p>We had come to the "Church House" where he dwelt in barracks with his +curates. His eyes twinkled. "I know what you mean—and you can chaff as +much as you like—but I shall have a go at Miss Driver."</p> + +<p>After a conversation a man of candid mind will often—and, if the +discussion has partaken in any degree of an argumentative character, I +would say generally—he left reflecting whether what he has said was +even as true as he meant to make it. As I had hinted, I talked to Alison +about Jenny with reserves, but even within their limits I doubted +whether I had given him the impression I had meant to convey. Perhaps he +understood, though he could never acknowledge as legitimate, my view +that she would feel entitled to treat herself as a special case. He +might even act on this view—always without acknowledging it; surely +Churches have been known to do that? He might approach her on that +footing—with the hope of changing it. I had meant to point out an +impossibility; I fancied I had indicated a task and communicated a +stimulus. Had I cast aside the reserves, I should have told him plainly +that in my judgment the emotional basis for his appeal was lacking in +her. Emotions existed, but not in that direction; that was more what I +had wanted to say, but, not feeling at liberty to adduce evidence, I had +lost myself in generalities. My poor modicum of truth stopped at the +dictum that to Jenny Jenny would seem an exceptional person; I had at +least come near to putting it in the hazardous and unorthodox form that +everybody might have a right, on sufficient occasion, so to treat +himself. And he himself judge of the sufficiency of the occasion? That +amounts to anarchy—as Alison, of course, perceived, and, had we pursued +the argument, I must have found myself in a very tight place.</p> + +<p>I was shaking my head over my own controversial incompetence—with, +perhaps, a furtive saving plea that it was very hard to tell all one's +thoughts to an ecclesiastic—when I was suddenly brought back to more +tangible matters; perhaps also to my modicum of truth—that Jenny would +seem to Jenny an exceptional person. In short, on turning the next +corner, I all but ran into Mr. Nelson Powers.</p> + +<p>He looked as greasily insinuating as ever. He also appeared to be more +prosperous than when I had last seen him. He looked, so to say, +established—as if he had a right to be where he was, not so much as if +he were "trying it on"—with eyes open for kicks or the police. He was +strolling about the streets of Catsford quite with the air of belonging +to it.</p> + +<p>He did not recognize me, or would not. He was almost by me when I +stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Powers? Surely it is? What brings you to Catsford?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Austin? Yes! Well, now, how do you do, sir? I'm glad to meet you +again. I was unlucky in missing that dinner—well, never mind! But +you've heard? Miss Driver has mentioned my appointment?"</p> + +<p>"I've heard nothing of any appointment."</p> + +<p>"Ah, perhaps I'm premature in mentioning it. I'll say good afternoon, +Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>I seemed to have nothing to say to him. I was rather bewildered; I +thought that we had really seen the end of Powers.</p> + +<p>He stretched out his hand, and took hold of mine, depriving me of all +initiative in the matter.</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver will speak in her own time, sir. I—I should only like to +say, sir, that I—I recognize the change in Miss Driver's position. One +learns wisdom, Mr. Austin. Good afternoon, sir." He pressed my hand—he +was wearing gloves and I was not sorry for it—and was round the corner +while I was still gaping.</p> + +<p>I walked up to the Priory, immersed in a rather scandalized, rather +amused, would-be psychological line of reflection. "She can't help it!" +I said to myself. "She can't let anyone go! Not even Powers! At the +first chance (I did not yet guess what the chance was) she calls him to +heel again. Even the meanest hound must keep with the pack. It's very +curious, but that's it!"</p> + +<p>In fact that was only part of it—and not the most significant for +present purposes.</p> + +<p>Jenny had gone from the Committee to call on Mrs. Jepps, a person of +much consideration in Catsford, wife of its first Mayor (now deceased), +owner of an important business house in the drapery line, <i>vir</i> (save +that she was a woman) <i>pietate gravis</i>, and eminently meet to be +enrolled among the active adherents of the Institute.</p> + +<p>"And I've got her!" said Jenny complacently, as she gave me my tea.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Alison wants to get you—I've been talking to him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I like Mr. Alison."</p> + +<p>"He wants to get you. Don't misunderstand. He doesn't want you to get +him, you know."</p> + +<p>"Friendship is surely mutual?" suggested Jenny, with a lurking smile.</p> + +<p>I mentioned the matter of the subscription: Jenny was satisfactorily +liberal.</p> + +<p>"Not that you'll be quit of him with that," I warned her.</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid. Going? Will you come back to dinner?"</p> + +<p>I stood for a moment looking at her. We might just as well have it out +now.</p> + +<p>"You remember your promise? I'm not to be called upon to meet Mr. +Powers? I happened to meet him in the town this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Jenny began to laugh—without the smallest sign of embarrassment. "I was +going to break it to you over your glass of port. That's why I asked you +to dinner. Now don't look grave and silly. Can't you really see any +difference between me as I am and the girl who came here a year ago? +Well, then, you're stupider than poor Powers himself! He sees it clearly +enough and accepts the position—he won't expect to come to dinner. +Besides he's very sorry for what happened. Besides why shouldn't I give +a chance to an old acquaintance rather than to a stranger? Besides—how +I'm piling up 'besides' just to keep you quiet!—Mrs. Powers has come, +too, and all the children—three now instead of one! So really it must +be all right."</p> + +<p>"But what are you going to do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he's a first-class draughtsman—trained in a very good architect's +office. Mr. Bindlecombe has seen specimens of his work and says it's +excellent. I should think that Mr. Bindlecombe knew!" (Meaning thereby, +as the lawyers say, that I did not!)</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you really guess? He's to be the Institute clerk. He'll draw +plans and so on for us—and she'll keep the house, and have it all ready +for our Committees."</p> + +<p>"He's to live at Ivydene?"</p> + +<p>"Have you any objection?"</p> + +<p>Up to now Jenny's tone had been evenly compounded of merriment—over my +absurdities—and plausibility for her own admirable management. Now a +slightly different note crept in. "Have you any objection?" was not said +in a very conciliatory manner.</p> + +<p>"I might have anticipated," she went on—"in fact I do anticipate—these +stupid objections from Mr. Cartmell—and I'm prepared to meet them. But +from you I looked for more perception. The man is a clever man; he's out +of employment. Why shouldn't I employ him? Is it to be fatal to him that +he was once unwise—worse than unwise? Against that, put that he's an +old friend, and that even I have my human feelings. I was a fool, but I +was fond of him once."</p> + +<p>"It's for you to judge," I said.</p> + +<p>"Can't you see—can't you understand?" she exclaimed. "Powers is +nothing—it's all over, gone, done with!" She clasped her hands +excitedly. "Oh, when I've so much on my shoulders, why do you worry me +with trifles?"</p> + +<p>"If you've so much on your shoulders, why add even trifles?"</p> + +<p>"I add nothing," she said. "On the contrary I—" She broke off suddenly, +and added quickly, "It's done—I'm pledged to him. Oh, don't bother me +about Powers!" She calmed down again. She returned to plausibility. She +went on with a smile, "You've found me out in one way, of course. I do +want my own man there. I want my own way in everything, so I want a man +who'll back me up—a man who'll always be on my side, who won't suddenly +go over to Lord Fillingford, or the Rector—or even Lady Sarah! Poor +Powers will have to agree with me always—he'll have to be a blind +adherent. He can't afford to differ."</p> + +<p>"That's frank, at all events," I commented.</p> + +<p>Jenny's face lit up. "Yes, it is," she said, with much better temper. +"Quite frank—the whole truth about Jenny Driver! He'll be what I +want—and do you seriously mean to say that you think there's any +danger? Nobody here knows anything about him, except you and Mr. +Cartmell. Are you traitors? Will Powers speak—and lose his livelihood? +It's absurd to talk of danger from Powers."</p> + +<p>I had come to agree with her that it was. So far as I could judge, there +was no longer any appreciable danger from the man—neither from his +presence in Catsford nor from Jenny's meetings with him. He could not +afford to threaten; she had grown far out of any peril of being cajoled. +But if not dangerous, neither was the arrangement attractive to one's +taste. It was difficult to suppose that Jenny herself liked it, unless +indeed my highly philosophical speculations covered the whole ground. +Did they? Must she really recall Powers? Couldn't she help it? Was a +present and immediate domination over even such as Powers essential to +her content?</p> + +<p>I could not believe it and accused my own speculations, if not of entire +error (they had an element of truth), yet of inadequacy. In fact a doubt +had begun to creep into my mind. Never in my life had I heard so many +sound reasons for doing a thing that was obviously quite uncalled +for—unless there was one other reason still—a reason not plausible, +nor producible, but compelling. Yet what? For I was convinced that the +man had no hold, that she was not in the least afraid of Powers.</p> + +<p>"I hate your standing opposite me and thinking about me," remarked Jenny +suddenly. "I'm sure it's not comfortable, and I don't think it's polite. +Besides, after all, it's possible that you might find out something!"</p> + +<p>"Surely that 'Besides' is superfluous, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I don't quite trust you. But shall I tell you your +mistake? You're too ready to think that I have a reason for everything I +do. You're wrong. Where reason comes in with me is about the things I +don't do. If you reason about things, most of them look either dull or +dangerous. So you let them alone. But if you don't reason, you chance +it—either the dullness or the danger, as the case may be."</p> + +<p>"A juggle with words! You reason all the same."</p> + +<p>"Not always. Sometimes you're—driven."</p> + +<p>On her face was a look almost as if she were being driven. I fancied +that I might have said too much about deliberate exercises of power in +my conversation with the Rector.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'd explain that, if you wished to," I remarked after a +pause. "You appear to be as free from being driven as most people. +You're pretty independent!"</p> + +<p>"I should explain it if I wished—perhaps even if I could. But do you +always find it easy to explain yourself—even to yourself, to say +nothing of other people?"</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that you've only got yourself to please."</p> + +<p>"And it also seems to you that that would be very easy?"</p> + +<p>"Now you're in one of your fencing moods—there's no plain English to be +got out of you."</p> + +<p>"Fencing is useful to parry thrusts, Austin."</p> + +<p>"Heavens, have I been making thrusts at you? You mean about that +miserable Powers?"</p> + +<p>She sat there looking at me, with the mystery smile on her lips; but her +brow was knit. "Yes, about Powers," she said—after a pause, but without +hesitation. The manner of her answer said plainly "Call it about +Powers—it is about something else." So I think she meant me to read it. +She told me that there was some trouble lest, suspecting but not +knowing, I should make wild thrusts and wound her blindly.</p> + +<p>"No one but you would put up with such an impertinent retainer," I said.</p> + +<p>"You always stop when I want you to. And I rather like—sometimes—to +try over my feelings and ideas in talk. One gets a kind of outside look +at them in that way." She broke into a little laugh. "And I must keep +you in a good temper, because I've a favor to ask. Are we going to be +terribly busy in the immediate future?"</p> + +<p>"I should think so—with your Institute!"</p> + +<p>"No time for riding?" she suggested insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, one must consider one's health."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to give up my morning ride; but I want you to come with +me—well, as often as you can. Make it the regular thing to come, +barring most pressing business."</p> + +<p>"I see what I get out of this, Lady Jenny. Now what do you?"</p> + +<p>"I knew you'd ask that. Of course I'm never disinterested!"</p> + +<p>"I won't ask. I'll take the gift Heaven sends!"</p> + +<p>"I daren't leave it like that. You're too conscientious; you'd stay at +home and work. I'm afraid I must give you the reason."</p> + +<p>Her thoughts had passed away, it seemed, from the difficulty which had +made her now irritable, now melancholy, while we talked about reasoning +and being "driven." She was gay and chaffed me with enjoyment. If there +were any perplexity in the case here, evidently it struck her as a +comedy, complicated by no threat of a tragic catastrophe. Her lips +twitched with merriment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you must have it—and really plain English this time—no +fencing—the downright blunt truth!"</p> + +<p>"I wait for it."</p> + +<p>"Lord Lacey comes home on leave to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The explanation here was certainly plain. In fact it was both plain and +pregnant. While it confessed to a flirtation in the past, it also +admitted a project for the future.</p> + +<p>"I must ride as often as possible," I said gravely. "Does he stay long?"</p> + +<p>"I should think that might depend," answered Jenny. She laughed again as +she added, "Not even you can ask 'On what?'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>A FRIENDLY GLASS</h3> + + +<p>I hope that my company on the morning rides was agreeable to Jenny, but +I cannot be persuaded that it was necessary; she showed such perfect +ability to handle a situation which, if not precisely difficult, might +easily have become so under less skillful management. There had, of +course, never been any serious love-making between her and Lacey; +whatever he may have been inclined to feel, or to tell himself that he +felt, she had always kept him to his position as "a boy." Yet young +women in the twenties do not always scorn the attentions of boys, and +Jenny had certainly not despised Lacey's. In fact, they had flirted, and +flirted pretty hard—and, as has been seen, Jenny was at no trouble to +deny it. But now the thing had to stop—or rather the flirtation had to +be transformed, the friendship established on a new basis. Into this +task Jenny put some of her best work. Her finest weapon was a frank +cordiality—such as could not but delight a friend, but was really +hopeless for a lover. To every advance it opposed a shield of shining +friendliness, of a hearty, almost masculine, comradeship. It left no +room for the attacks and defenses, the challenges and evasions, the +pursuit, the flight, and the collusive capture. It was all such +immensely plain sailing, all so pre-eminently above-board, in its +unmitigated cunning. But it was charming also, and Lacey, though +naturally a little puzzled at first, soon felt the charm. He was wax in +those clever hands; she seemed to be able not only to make him do what +she wanted, but even to make him feel toward her as she wished—to +impart to his emotions the color which she desired them to take. +Positively I think he began to forget the flirtation in the friendship, +or to charge his memory with twisting or misinterpreting the facts. All +the time, though, he would have been ready to resume the old footing at +the smallest encouragement, the lightest touch of coquetry or +allurement. But Jenny's masterpiece of honest friendship was without any +such flaw; if she was great at flirtation, she was no less a mistress of +the art of baffling it. With such ability and such self-confidence what +need had she of my presence? She was wiser than I was when I put that +question to myself. I thought only of what would happen; she remembered +what people might say—that the neighbors had tongues, and that +Fillingford had ears to his head like other folks. While the buckler of +cordiality fronted Lacey, I was her shield against a flank attack.</p> + +<p>Had she really made up her mind then? It looked like it. If she rode in +my company with Lacey in the morning, she received his father without my +company in the afternoon. There could be no doubt what he came for; +middle-aged men of many occupations do not pay calls two or three +afternoons a week without a purpose. What passed at these interviews +remained, of course, a secret; I confess to a suspicion that Jenny found +them dull. Fillingford's wariness of exposing himself to rebuff or +ridicule, his habitual secretiveness as to his emotions, cannot have +made him either an ardent or an entertaining suitor. In truth I do not +believe that he seriously pretended to be in love. He liked her very +much; he thought that she would fill well the place he had to offer, and +that she, in her turn, would like to fill it, and might find him +agreeable enough to accept with it. That would content him. With that I +thought she, too, would be content—considering the other advantages +thrown in. She would not have cared for his love, but she could endure +his company. That carried with it only a limited liability—and good +dividends in the form of rank, position, and influence. In dealing with +the Drivers one had a tendency to fall into commercial metaphors; caught +from old Nicholas, the trick extended itself to Jenny.</p> + +<p>But if he were resolved and she ready, why did the thing hang fire? It +did—and surely by Jenny's will? She was reasoning; the affair could not +look dangerous; then it looked dull? But it would look no less dull the +longer she looked at it. Her feelings were not engaged; unless caught up +by strong emotions, she shunned the irrevocable, liked open +alternatives, hated to close the line of retreat; he who still parleys +is still free, he who still bargains is still master. That attitude of +her mind—re-ënforced by her father's warning—was always strong with +her and had always to be remembered. Was it enough to account for her +continuing to keep Fillingford at bay? The answer might well be yes—for +these natural predispositions will knock the bottom out of much +speciously logical reasoning about people. But there was another factor +in the case—a thing which could not be overlooked. Why was Leonard +Octon keeping quiet? Or if quiet perforce, why did he seem placid, +content, and, contrary to all expectation of him, amiably trustful?</p> + +<p>One evening I availed myself of his invitation—Jenny did not always bid +me to dinner, and sometimes I was lonely even as he was—and walked down +to Hatcham Ford. Passing Ivydene, I was interested to observe lights in +the window, though it was nine o'clock at night. Presumably friend +Nelson Powers did not merely use the place as his office (Cartmell's +protest had, of course, not produced the smallest effect on Jenny—my +own having failed, I should have been annoyed if it had), but was +established there with his family. Certainly Jenny did not always +procrastinate—she seemed to delay least when the transaction was most +doubtful! But I had come to accept Powers's position as one of her +freaks and, save for a rather sour amusement, thought at the moment +little more about him.</p> + +<p>That night—it seems strange to say it, but it expresses my inmost +feelings—I made friends with Leonard Octon; before I had been merely +interested, amused, and exasperated in turn. He chose to remove from me +the ban which he laid on and maintained over most of his +fellow-creatures—from no merit of my own, as I believe, but because I +stood near to Jenny; or, if I can claim any part in the matter, because +of a certain openness of mind which, as he was good enough to declare, +existed in me. This was to say no more than that, to a certain and +limited extent, I agreed with some of his prejudices—his own openness +of mind consisting mainly in a hatred of the views and opinions of most +other people. I was a very pale copy of him. Things toward which my +meditations and my temper bred in me a degree of indifference he frankly +and cordially hated. Respectability may be chosen as the word to sum +them up; if I questioned its merits, he hated and damned it utterly. +This was one of the things which interested and amused—and, when it +issued in rudeness to Lady Aspenick, also exasperated. It was not for +this that I made friends with him.</p> + +<p>"When I saw that woman owning that road—coming along in her twopenny +glory, with her flunkeys to whistle me out of the way—she looked at me +herself, too, mind you, and without a gleam of recognition—I got angry. +Not even the public road, mind you! She was a guest as I was."</p> + +<p>"But you weren't driving a tandem with a restive leader."</p> + +<p>"And oughtn't she to apologize for driving restive horses? Must I dodge +for my life—or for hers—without even a civil word or look—just an +order from a flunkey?"</p> + +<p>"For some reason or another," I observed, "people who are angry always +call grooms and footmen flunkeys."</p> + +<p>He burst into a guffaw of laughter. "Lord, yes, asses all of us, to be +sure! And what, after all, does a flick in the face come to, Mr. +Philosopher? Nothing at all! It hardly even hurts. But a man calls it a +deadly insult—when he's angry; between man and man there must be blood +for it when they're angry."</p> + +<p>"There's the police court," I suggested mildly.</p> + +<p>"As you say, for sheep there's the police court. I came as near behaving +right as one can with a woman when I broke her whip."</p> + +<p>"You really think that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Austin, I really do—and that shows, as you were going to say, +that I'm utterly hopeless. I don't fit the standards." He was sitting +hunched up over the fire, monopolizing its heat, his great shoulders +nearly up to his ears. He condemned himself with much better humor than +he judged other people. "I don't fit them, I don't agree with them, I +hate them. Left to myself, I'd get out of this."</p> + +<p>"Who's stopping you?" I asked, pulling at my pipe and trying to edge +nearer the fire.</p> + +<p>He took no notice of my question—which was indeed no more than an +indifferently civil way of suggesting that he was at liberty to please +himself. He took no notice of my futile edging either.</p> + +<p>"Now if I had Jenny Driver's gifts for the game," he went on, "I daresay +I should like it. Oh, you were quite right there! She's equal to ruling +the county, and ruling it well. Since she can do it, I don't blame her +for trying. Perhaps I'd try myself in the same case. But, mind you, in +her heart she thinks no more of them than I do. They can give her what +she wants, they can't give me what I want—that's all the difference. So +it's worth her while to fool them—and it's not worth mine. Not that I +could do it half as well as she does!"</p> + +<p>His admiration of Jenny was unmistakably affectionate as well as amused. +There is a way a man draws at his pipe—long pulls with smiles in +between. It tells a tale when a woman's name has just passed his lips.</p> + +<p>"Then all she's got—the big place and the money—the influence and so +on—wouldn't attract you?"</p> + +<p>He turned slowly to me. "It might, if I thought that I could make terms +with the people. But I can't do that. So I should hate it. Why did you +ask me that question, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? We were discussing your character, and any sidelights—" I +ended with a shrug.</p> + +<p>"You humbug, you infernal humbug!" he said. Then he fell into silence, +staring again at the fire.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. My interest is quite speculative. What else should it be? +Is she likely to die and leave you her property?" I spoke in sincerity, +having in my mind Jenny's purpose with regard to Fillingford, for a +settled purpose it had by now, to my thinking, become.</p> + +<p>My sincerity went home to him, and carried with it an uncontrollable +surprise. He turned his head toward me again with a rapid jerk. His eyes +searched my face, now rather suspiciously. Then he smiled. "Yes, that's +true. I suppose I ought to beg your pardon!" he said.</p> + +<p>He had recovered himself in time and had told me no secret. But he had +been surprised to find that I considered any relation of his to Jenny's +place and property as a mere speculation—no more than the illustration +to an argument. Then he must consider it as more than that himself. But +then how could he—he, the ostracized? Yet there was the secret treaty, +whose terms availed to keep him quiet—quiet and at Hatcham Ford. There +were a lover's obstinate hopes. And—the thought flashed into my +mind—had he any knowledge of Fillingford's frequent calls or of the +dexterous management of Lacey? It was probable that he knew as little of +them as Fillingford knew of the mysterious treaty.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he started a new topic; between it and the previous one there +seemed no connection—unless Jenny were the link.</p> + +<p>"I say, that's a rum fish—my new neighbor Nelson Powers!"</p> + +<p>"You've made acquaintance? You haven't been long about it!"</p> + +<p>"He smokes his pipe, leaning over his garden fence; I smoke mine, +leaning over my gate. Hence the acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"Of course; you're always so affable, so accessible to strangers."</p> + +<p>He dropped his scarcely serious pretense of having made Powers's +acquaintance casually. "Miss Driver told me something about him. We've +been in communication about this house and the Institute, you know."</p> + +<p>"Did she tell you anything interesting about him?"</p> + +<p>"Only that he'd been a humble friend in days gone by. You're looking +rather sour, Austin. Don't you like Mr. Nelson Powers?"</p> + +<p>"He's not one of my particular fancies," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver says he's devoted to her."</p> + +<p>"He's in debt to her, anyhow, I expect—and perhaps that'll do as well."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps." He was speaking now in a ruminative way—as though he were +comparing in his mind Jenny's account of Powers, my opinion of Powers, +and his own impression of the man. He seemed to me to give more thought +to Powers than I should have expected from him; a rude and contemptuous +dismissal would have been Powers's more probable fate at his hands.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to clear out for the Institute?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I shall be out of this house in less than a year, anyhow. That's +settled."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then your negotiations have been very satisfactory! You had a right +to stay here two years."</p> + +<p>"The present state of affairs can't drag on for two years," he said, +looking at me steadily. His ostensible reference might be to his +uncomfortable relations toward his neighbors; I was sure that he meant +more than that—and did not mind letting me see it. A restlessness +betrayed itself in his movements; he seemed to be on the edge of an +outbreak and to hold himself back with a struggle. His victory was very +imperfect: he could not keep off the subject which perturbed him; he +could only contrive to treat it with a show of lightness and contempt. +The subject had been in my thoughts already.</p> + +<p>"Seeing much of our friend Fillingford just now at the Priory?"</p> + +<p>"He comes a certain amount. I don't see much of him."</p> + +<p>"And that sets fools gossiping, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Need you ask me, Octon? I fancy you've heard something for yourself."</p> + +<p>He rubbed his big hands together, giving a laugh which sounded rather +uneasy under its cloak of amusement.</p> + +<p>"It won't be much trouble to her to make a fool of Fillingford—he's a +conceited ass. She'll use him as long as she wants him, and then—!" He +snapped his fingers scornfully.</p> + +<p>Had he struck on that explanation for himself? Possibly—he had studied +Jenny. Yet it sounded rather like an inspired version of her policy. The +weak spot about it was that, by now, Jenny could have little need of +Fillingford—except in one capacity. As her husband he could give her a +good deal; he could offer her no obvious advantages in any other +relation. I wondered that this did not occur to Octon—and then decided +that it did. He knew that the argument was weak; he hoped that I would +afford it the buttress of my confirmatory opinion.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he growled impatiently, for I said nothing.</p> + +<p>"I didn't understand that you asked me a question—and, if you had, I +shouldn't have answered it. It's no business of mine to consider how +Miss Driver treats Fillingford or means to treat him."</p> + +<p>At that his temper suddenly gave, his hold on himself was broken. "But +it is of mine, by God!" he cried.</p> + +<p>Our eyes met for a moment; then he turned his head away, and a long +silence followed. At last he spoke in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"I call other people fools—I'm a fool myself. I can't hold my tongue. I +oughtn't to be at large. But it's pretty hard to bottle it all up +sometimes." He laid his hand on my knee. "I shall be obliged if you'll +forget that little remark of mine, Austin."</p> + +<p>"I can't forget it. I can take no notice of it," I said.</p> + +<p>"It's not merely that I gave myself away—which, after all, doesn't +matter as you happen to be a loyal fellow—I know that" (he smiled for a +moment), "having tried to pump you myself. But what I said was against a +pledge I had given."</p> + +<p>"I wish you hadn't said it—most heartily. I'll treat it as unsaid—so +far as my allegiance allows."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see that. She must come first with you, of course."</p> + +<p>"And with you, too, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"In my sort of case a man fights for himself."</p> + +<p>"I'll say one thing to you—since you have spoken. You'd much better go +away—before that year is up."</p> + +<p>He made an impatient gesture with his hands. "I can't!" Then he leaned +forward and half-whispered, "You put your money on Fillingford?"</p> + +<p>"I don't intend to tell you what I think—if you can't gather it from +what I've said already."</p> + +<p>Again his laugh came—again sounding more like bravado than real +confidence. "You're wrong, I can tell you that," he said. "I shouldn't +be here if I wasn't sure of that."</p> + +<p>I had better have said no more, but temptation overcame me. "I don't +think you are sure of it."</p> + +<p>I expected him to be very angry, I looked for some bluster. None came. +He shrugged his shoulders and wearily rubbed his brow with his hand. The +case was very plain; he had been told, but he was not sure that he had +been told the truth. Many people might have told him that Jenny meant to +marry Fillingford. Only one on earth could have assured him that she did +not. The assurance had been forthcoming—not in so many words, perhaps, +yet plainly enough to be an assurance for all that. But was it an +assurance of truth?</p> + +<p>It grew late, and I took my leave. Octon put on his hat and walked to +the gate with me. "Come and see me again," he said. "I'm always ready +for you—after dinner. A talk does a man good—even if he talks like a +fool."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll come again—not that I've been very comforting."</p> + +<p>"No, you haven't. But then, you see, I don't believe a word you say." He +went back to that attitude—to that obstinate assertion. It was not for +me to argue the question with him; even if my tongue were free, why +should I? He would argue it quite enough—there at Hatcham Ford, by +himself.</p> + +<p>"Is that your estimable neighbor?" I asked. Through the darkness, by +help of the street lamp, a man's figure was visible, standing at the +gate of the new house which Jenny had taken for the Institute office.</p> + +<p>"That's the fellow," said Octon, and he walked on with me. "Good +evening, Mr. Powers," he said, as we came to the gate.</p> + +<p>Powers bade him good evening, and also accorded to me a courteous +greeting. In this hour of leisure he had assumed a pseudo-artistic garb, +a soft shirt with trimmings along the front and a turndown collar cut +very low, and a voluminous tie worn in an ultra-French fashion; his +jacket appeared to be of velveteen, rather a light brown.</p> + +<p>"You find me star-gazing, gentlemen," said he. "I take delight in it. +The immensity of the heavens!"</p> + +<p>"And the littleness of man! Quite so, Mr. Powers," said Octon, refilling +his pipe.</p> + +<p>"These thoughts will come—sometimes to encourage us, +sometimes—er—with an opposite effect."</p> + +<p>"Don't let them discourage you, Powers. That would be a pity. After all, +the Institute will be pretty big."</p> + +<p>To a refined ear Octon was not treating Powers precisely with +respect—but Powers's ear was not refined. He was evidently quite +comfortable and at his ease with Octon. I wondered that Octon cared to +chaff him in this fashion, offering what was to Powers a good substitute +for friendliness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Miss Driver is giving us an adequate sphere for our +ambitions. I have longed for one. Doubtless you have also, Mr. Austin?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not very ambitious, Mr. Powers."</p> + +<p>"Wise, sir, wise! But we can't help our dispositions. Mine is to soar! +To soar upward by dint of hard work! Miss Driver will find I've not been +idle when she next honors Ivydene with a visit. You don't know if she'll +be here to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Not I," I answered. "Miss Driver doesn't generally tell me what she's +going to do to-morrow. The boot's on the other leg—she tells me what +I'm going to do to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha! Very good, sir, very good! And she's a lady one is proud to take +orders from."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. Good night." I think I must have spoken rather abruptly, for +Powers's answering "Good night" sounded a little startled. I really +could not bear any more of the fellow. But Octon—impatient, irascible, +contemptuous Octon—seemed quite happy in his company. If he were not +the rose, yet—? No, the proverb really could not be strained to embrace +the moral perfume of Powers.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Austin. I'll stop and smoke half a pipe here with Mr. +Powers."</p> + +<p>"You do me honor, Mr. Octon. But if you'd step inside—perhaps just a +little drop of Scotch, sir? Don't say no. Drink success to the +Institute! One friendly glass!"</p> + +<p>What a picture! Octon drinking success to the Institute with Powers! But +a short time ago I should have deemed it a happily ludicrous inspiration +from Bedlam. To my amazement, though Octon hesitated for a perceptible +space, he did not refuse. He glanced at me, laughed in a rather +shamefaced way, and said, "Well, just a minute, and just one glass to +the Institute—since you are so kind, Mr. Powers." With a nod to me he +turned and followed Powers toward the house.</p> + +<p>As I walked home, a picture of the position pieced itself together in my +head. The process was involuntary—even against my will. I tried to +remind myself all the time of Jenny's own warning—how she had accused +me of too often imputing to her long-headed cunning, how her actions +were, far oftener than I imagined, the outcome of the minute, not the +result of calculation or subtle thought. Yet if in this case she had +been subtle and cunning, she might have produced some such combination +as now insisted on taking shape before my brain. For the sake of the +neighborhood, and her position and prestige in its eyes, especially for +the sake of Fillingford, she had abandoned Octon and had banished him. +But she wanted to see him—and to see him without creating remark; in +plain fact, to see him, if not secretly, yet as privately as she could. +Next, she wished to make progress with the Institute, to establish an +office with a clerk, an office where meetings could be held and plans +made, and where she could come and see how matters were getting on—a +clerk on whom she could depend to support her, always to be on her +side—a clerk who, as she had said, could not afford to be against her. +Hence came Ivydene—and Mr. Powers. Was it mere chance that Ivydene was +just opposite Hatcham Ford? Was Mr. Powers's support—that subserviency +on which Jenny had playfully laid stress—desired only against Lady +Sarah and other possibly recalcitrant members of the Committee? If +Powers could not afford to oppose her on the Committee's work, could he +afford any the more to thwart her in her private concerns? Plainly not. +There also he was bound to help.</p> + +<p>So the picture formed itself; and the last bit to fit in, and thereby to +give completeness, was what I had seen that night—the strange +complaisance of Octon toward the intolerable Powers. Did Octon smoke his +pipe in Powers's house and drink Powers's whisky for nothing? That +"friendly glass"—what was its significance?</p> + +<p>This was work for a spy or a detective. I thrust the idea away from me. +But the idea would not depart. A man must use his senses—nay, they use +themselves. The more I sought to banish the explanation, the more +insolently it seemed to stare me in the face. "Pick a hole in me, if you +can!" it challenged. The hole was hard to pick.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE SIGNAL AT "DANGER"</h3> + + +<p>Alison lost little time in making his promised attack on Jenny; he was +not the man to let the grass grow under his feet. It might be improper +to say that he chose the wrong moment—for no moment could be wrong from +his point of view, and the one most wrong from a worldly aspect might +well be to his mind the supremely right. Yet according to that purely +worldly standpoint the time was unfortunate. Jenny had a great many +other things to think of—very pressing things: as to many of us, so to +her, her religious position perhaps seemed a matter which could wait. +Moreover—by a whimsical chance—the Rector ran up against another +difficulty: to Jenny it was a refuge, of which she availed herself with +her usual dexterity. When one attack pressed her, I am convinced that +she absolutely welcomed the advent of another from the opposite +direction. Between the two she might slip out unhurt; at any rate, if +one assailant called on her to surrender, she could bid him deal with +the other first. The analogy is not exact—but there was a family +likeness between her balancing of Fillingford against Octon and the way +in which, assailed by Alison, she interposed, as a shield, the views +urged on her by Mrs. Jepps. Displayed in a less serious campaign—less +serious, I mean, to Jenny's thinking—yet it was, in essence, the same +strategy—and it was a strategy pretty to watch. Be it remarked that +Jenny was busy keeping friends with everybody during these anxious +weeks.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jepps—if I have said it before, it will bear repetition—was a +power in Catsford, in the town itself. She might be said to lead the +distinctively town society. Age, wealth, character, and a certain +incisiveness of speech combined to strengthen her position. She was a +small old lady, with plentiful white hair; she had been pretty—save for +a nose too big; in her old age she bore a likeness to Cardinal Newman, +but it would never have done to tell her so—she would as soon have been +compared to the Prince of Darkness himself. For she was a most +pronounced Evangelical, and her feud with Alison was open and +inveterate. She disapproved profoundly of "the parish clergyman"; she +called him by that title, whereas he called himself "the priest in +charge"; for his "assistant priests" she would know no name but +"curates." There had been an Education Question lately; the fight had +waxed abnormally hot over the souls—almost over the bodies—of Catsford +urchins, male and female, themselves somewhat impervious to the bearings +of the controversy. Into deeper differences it is not necessary to go. +The Rector thought her one of the best women he knew, but one of the +most wrong-headed. Put man for woman—and she exactly reciprocated his +opinion; and it is hard to deny, though sad to admit, that her zeal for +Jenny's spiritual awakening was stirred to greater activity by the +knowledge that Alison had put his hand to the alarm. To use a homely +metaphor, they were each exceedingly anxious that the awakened sleeper +should get out on what was, given their point of view, the right side of +the bed.</p> + +<p>To Jenny—need I say it?—this situation was rich in possibilities of +staying in bed. In response to appeals she might put one foot out on one +side, then the other foot out on the other; she would think a long while +before she trusted her whole body to the floor either on the right or on +the left. She did not appreciate in the least the fiery zeal which urged +her to one side or the other: but she knew that it was there and allowed +for its results. To her mind she had two friends—while she lay in bed; +a descent on either side might cost her one of them. While she +hesitated, she was precious to both. For the rest, I believe that she +found a positive recreation in this ecclesiastical dispute; to play off +Mrs. Jepps against Alison was child's play compared to the much more +hazardous and difficult game on which she was embarked. Child's +play—and byplay; yet not, perhaps, utterly irrelevant. It would have +been easy to say "A plague on both your houses!" But even Mercutio did +not say that till he was wounded to death, and Jenny was more of a +politician than Mercutio. She asked both houses to dinner—and took +pains that they should meet.</p> + +<p>They met several times—with more pleasure to Mrs. Jepps than to the +Rector. He fought for conscience' sake, and for what he held true. So +did she—but the old lady liked the fighting for its own sake also. +Jenny's attitude was "I want to understand." She pitted them against one +another—Mrs. Jepps's "Letter of the Scriptures" against Alison's "Voice +of the Living Church," his "Primitive Usage and Teaching of the Fathers" +against her "Protestantism and Reformation Settlement." It is not +necessary to deny to Jenny an honest intellectual interest in these and +kindred questions, although her concern did not go very deep—but for +her an avowed object always gained immensely in attraction from the +possibility of some remoter and unavowed object attaching to it. If the +avowed object of these prolonged discussions was the settlement of +Jenny's religious convictions, the remoter and unavowed was to keep +herself still in a position to reward whichever of the disputants she +might choose finally to hail as victor. Policy and temperament both went +to foster this instinct in her; the position might be useful, and was +enjoyable; her security might be increased, her vanity was flattered. +Jenny stayed in bed!</p> + +<p>In secular politics her course was no less skillfully taken. She did +indeed declare herself a Conservative—there was no doubt, even for +Jenny's cautious mind, about the wisdom of that step—and gave Bertram +Ware a very handsome contribution toward his Registration expenses; the +expenses were heavy, Ware was not a rich man, and he was grateful. But +at that time the question of Free Trade against Protection—or Free +Imports against Fair Trade, if those terms be preferred—was just coming +to the front, under the impetus given by a distinguished statesman. +Fillingford, the natural leader of the party in the county division, was +a convinced Free Trader. Ware had at least a strong inclination for Fair +Trade. After talks with Fillingford and talks with Ware, Jenny gave her +contribution, but accompanied it by an intimation that she hoped Mr. +Ware would do nothing to break up the party. The hint was significant. +Between the two sections which existed, or threatened to exist, in her +party, Jenny—with her estate and her money—became an object of much +interest. They united in giving her high rank in their Primrose +League—but neither of them felt sure of her support.</p> + +<p>To complete this slight sketch of the public position which Jenny was +making for herself, add Catsford highly interested in and flattered by +the prospect of its Institute, grateful to its powerful neighbour for +her benefits, perhaps hopefully expectant of more favors from the same +hand—proud, too, of old Nick Driver's handsome and clever daughter. +Catsford was both selfishly and sentimentally devoted to Jenny, and of +its devotion Mr. Bindlecombe was the enthusiastic and resonant herald.</p> + +<p>Her private relations, though by no means free from difficulty, were at +the moment hardly less flattering to her sense of self-importance, +hardly less eloquent of her power. Fillingford was ready to offer her +all he had—his name, his rank, his stately Manor; Octon lingered at +Hatcham Ford, hoping against hope for her, unable to go because it was +her will that he should stay: at her bidding young Lacey was +transforming himself from a gay aspirant to her favor into the +submissive servant of her wishes, her warm and obedient friend. To +consider mere satellites like Cartmell and myself would be an +anti-climax; yet to us, too, crumbs of kindness fell from the rich man's +table and did their work of binding us closer to Jenny.</p> + +<p>If she stayed as she was—the powerful, important Miss Driver—she was +very well. If she married Fillingford, she hardly strengthened her +position, but she decorated it highly, and widened the sphere of her +influence. If she chose to take the risks and openly accepted Octon, she +would indeed strain and impair the fabric she had built, but she could +hardly so injure it that time and skill would not build it again as good +as new. But she would make up her mind to none of the three. She liked +independence and feared its loss by marriage. She liked splendor and +rank, and therefore kept her hold on Fillingford's offer. Finally, she +must like Octon himself, must probably in her heart cling more to him +than she had admitted even to herself; there was no other reason for +dallying with that decision. Across the play of her politics ran this +strong, this curious, personal attraction; she could not let him go. For +the moment she tried for all these things—the independence, the +prestige of prospective splendor and rank, and—well, whatever she was +getting out of the presence of Octon at Hatcham Ford, across the road +from her offices at Ivydene.</p> + +<p>It was a delicate equipoise—the least thing might upset it, and in its +fall it might involve much that was of value to Jenny. There was at +least one person who was not averse from anything which would set a +check to Jenny's plans and shake her power.</p> + +<p>Jenny and I had been to Fillingford Manor—where, by the way, I took the +opportunity of inspecting Mistress Eleanor Lacey's picture, Fillingford +acting as my guide and himself examining it with much apparent +interest—and, as we drove home, she said to me suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Why does Lady Sarah dislike me so much?"</p> + +<p>"She has three excellent reasons. You eclipse her, you threaten her, and +you dislike her."</p> + +<p>"How does she know I dislike her?"</p> + +<p>"How do you know she dislikes you, if you come to that? You women always +seem to me to have special antennæ for finding out dislikes. I don't +mean to say they're infallible."</p> + +<p>"At any rate Lady Sarah and I seem to agree in this case," laughed +Jenny. "She's right if she thinks I dislike her, and I'm certainly right +in thinking she dislikes me. But how do I threaten her?"</p> + +<p>"Come, come! Do you mean me to answer that? Nobody likes the idea of +being turned out—any more than they welcome playing second fiddle."</p> + +<p>"I'm always very civil to her—oh, not only at Fillingford! I've taken +pains to pay her all the proper honors about the Institute. Very fussy +she is there, too! She's always dropping in at Ivydene to ask something +stupid. She quite worries poor Mr. Powers."</p> + +<p>Jenny might resent Lady Sarah's excessive activity at Ivydene, but she +gave no sign of being disquieted by it. To me, however, it seemed to be, +under the circumstances, rather dangerous; but not being supposed to +know, or to have guessed, the circumstances, I could say nothing.</p> + +<p>Jenny's next remark perhaps explained her easiness of mind.</p> + +<p>"We don't let her in if we don't want her. I must say that Mr. Powers is +very good at keeping people out. Well, I must try to be more pleasant. I +don't really dislike her so much; it's chiefly that family iciness which +is so trying. It's a bore always to have to be setting to work to melt +people, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>I hold no brief against Lady Sarah, and do not regard her as the villain +of the piece. She was a woman of a nature dry, yet despotic; she desired +power and the popularity that gives power, but had not the temper or the +arts to win them. Jenny's triumphs wounded her pride, Jenny's plans +threatened her position in her own home at Fillingford Manor. Her +dislike for Jenny was natural, and it is really impossible to blame very +severely—perhaps, if family feeling is to count, one ought not to blame +at all—her share in the events which were close at hand. It is, in +fact, rather difficult to see what else she could have done. If she had +a right to do it, it is perhaps setting up too high a standard to chide +her for a supposed pleasure in the work.</p> + +<p>When we got home, Cartmell was waiting for Jenny, his round face +portentously lengthened by woe. He shook hands with sad gravity.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" she cried. "Not all my banks broken, Mr. Cartmell?"</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry to be troublesome, Miss Jenny, but I've come to make a +formal complaint against Powers. The fellow is doing you a lot of harm +and bringing discredit on the Institute in its very beginnings. He +neglects his work; that doesn't matter so much, there's not a great deal +to do yet; he spends the best part of the mornings lounging about +public-house bars, smoking and drinking and betting, and the best part +of his evenings doing the same, and ogling and flirting with the factory +girls into the bargain. He's a thorough bad lot."</p> + +<p>Jenny's face had grown very serious. "I'm sorry. He's—he's an old +friend of mine!"</p> + +<p>"That was what you said before. On the strength of it you gave him this +chance. Well, he's proved himself unworthy of it. You must get rid of +him—for the sake of the Institute and for your own sake, too."</p> + +<p>"Get rid of him?" She looked oddly at Cartmell. "Isn't that rather +severe? Wouldn't a good scolding from you——?"</p> + +<p>"From me? He practically tells me to mind my own business. If there are +any complaints, the fellow says, they'd better be addressed to you!" He +paused for a moment. "He gives the impression that you'd back him up +through thick and thin, and, what's more, he means to give it."</p> + +<p>"What does he say to give that impression?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't say much. It's a nod here, and a wink there—and a lot of +vaporing, so I'm told, about having known you when you were a girl."</p> + +<p>"That's silly, but not very bad. Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"No. When one of my clerks—Harrison, a very steady man—gave him a +friendly warning that he was going the right way about to lose his job, +he said something very insolent."</p> + +<p>"What?" She was sitting very still, very intent.</p> + +<p>"He laughed and said he thought you knew better than that. Said in the +way he said it, it—it came to claiming some sort of hold on you, Miss +Jenny. That's a very dangerous idea to get about."</p> + +<p>Cartmell was evidently thinking of the old story—of the episode of +Cheltenham days. But had Powers been thinking of that? And was Jenny, +with her bright eyes intent on Cartmell's face? She did not look +alarmed—only rather expectant. She foresaw a fight with Powers, but had +no doubt that she could beat him—if only the mischief had not gone too +far.</p> + +<p>"He seemed to refer to—Cheltenham?" she asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>Cartmell was the embarrassed party to the conversation. "I—I'm afraid +so, Miss Jenny," he stammered, and his red face grew even redder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll settle that all right," Jenny assured him.</p> + +<p>"You'll give him the sack?" Cartmell asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>She had many good reasons to produce against that, just as she had +produced many for bringing him to Catsford. "I'll reduce him to order, +anyhow," she promised.</p> + +<p>That was what she wanted—to bring him to heel, not to lose him. But +surely it was no longer for his own sake, nor even to satisfy that +instinct of hers which forbade the alienation of the least of her human +possessions? There was more than that in it. He was part of the +scheme—he fitted into that explanation which my brain had insisted on +conceiving as I walked home from Ivydene. Of this aspect of the case +Cartmell was entirely innocent.</p> + +<p>By one of her calculated bits of audacity—concealing much, she would +seem to have nothing to conceal—she took me with her when she went down +to Ivydene the next morning, to haul Powers over the coals. She would +have me present at the interview between them. Well, it may also have +been that she did not want too much plain speaking—or, rather, +preferred to do what was to be done in that line herself.</p> + +<p>She attacked him roundly; he stood before her not daring to resist +openly, yet covertly insolent, hinting at what he dared not say +plainly—certainly not before me, for he had not yet decided what game +to play. He waited to see what he could still get out of Jenny. She +rehearsed to him Cartmell's charges as to his conduct; its idleness, its +unseemliness, the disrepute it brought on her and on the Institute. +Somehow all this sounded a little bit unreal—or, if not unreal, shall I +say preliminary? Powers confessed part, denied part, averred a prejudice +in Cartmell—this last not without some reason. She rose to her gravest +charge.</p> + +<p>"And you seem to have the impertinence to hint that you can do what you +like, and that I shall stand it all," she said.</p> + +<p>"I never said that, Miss Driver. I may have said you had a kind heart +and wouldn't be hard on an old friend." He had his cloth cap in his +hands and kept twisting it about and fiddling with it as he talked. He +smiled all the time, insinuatingly, yet rather uneasily, too.</p> + +<p>"It's not your place to make any reference to me," she said haughtily. +"I'll thank you to leave me out of your conversation with these curious +friends of yours, Mr. Powers."</p> + +<p>He looked at her, licking his lips. I was a mere spectator, though I do +not think either of them had for a moment, up to now, forgotten my +presence; indeed, both were, in a sense, playing their parts before me.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that my friends are more curious than other people's, Miss +Driver. People choose friends as it suits them, I suppose."</p> + +<p>She caught the insinuation—he must have meant that she should. Her eyes +blazed with a sudden anger. I knew the signs of that; when it came, +prudence was apt to be thrown to the winds. She rose from her chair and +walked up to where he stood.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>He was afraid; he cowered before her fury: "Nothing," he grumbled +sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Then don't say things like that. I don't like them. I won't have them +said. It almost sounded as if you meant a reference to me."</p> + +<p>Of course he had meant one. She saw the danger and faced it. She relied +on her personal domination. He was threatening, she would terrify. She +went on in a cool, hard voice—very bitter, very dangerous.</p> + +<p>"Once before in your life you threatened me," she said. "I was a child +then, and had no friends. You got off safe—you even got a little +money—a little very dirty money." (He did not like that; he flushed red +and picked at his cap furiously.) "Now I'm a woman and I've got friends. +You won't get any money, and you won't get off safe. Be sure of that. +Who'll employ you if I won't? What character have you except what I +choose to give? I think, if I were a man, I'd thrash you where you +stand, Mr. Powers."</p> + +<p>This remark may perhaps have been unladylike—that would have been +Chat's word for it. For my part I thoroughly appreciated and enjoyed it. +She was a fine sight in a royal rage like this.</p> + +<p>"But though I'm not a man, I've friends who are. If you dare to use your +tongue against me, look out!"</p> + +<p>He could not stand against her nor face her. Indeed it would have been +hard to fight her, unless by forgetting that she was a woman. He cringed +before her, yet with an obstinately vicious look in his would-be humble +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Driver—indeed I do. I—I've been wrong. Don't +be hard on me. There's my poor wife and family! You shall have no +further cause of complaint. As for threatening, why, how could I? What +could I do against you, Miss Driver?"</p> + +<p>Did his humility, hardly less disagreeable than his insolence, disarm +her wrath? Did her mood change—or had the moment come for an artistic +dissimulation? I must confess that I do not know; but suddenly she +struck him playfully on the point of the chin with her glove and began +to laugh. "Then, you dear silly old Powers, don't be such a fool," she +said. "Don't quarrel with your bread and butter, and don't take so much +whisky and water. Because whisky brings vapors, and then you think +you're a great man, and get romancing about what you could do if you +liked. I've stood a good deal from you, haven't I? I would stand a good +deal for old times' sake. You know that; but is it kind to presume on +it, to push me too far just because you know I like you?"</p> + +<p>This speech I defend less than the unladylike one; I liked her better on +the subject of the thrashing. But there is no denying that it was very +well done. Was it wholly insincere? Perhaps not. In any event she meant +to conquer Powers, and was not without reason, or precedent, in trying +to see if blarney would aid threats.</p> + +<p>He responded plausibly, summoning his mock gentlemanliness to cover his +submission, and, I may add, his malice. He regretted his mistakes, he +deplored misunderstanding, he avowed unlimited obligation and eternal +gratitude. He even ventured on hinting at the memory of a sentimental +attachment. "I can take from you what I would from no other lady." (At +no moment, however agitated, would Powers forget to say "lady.") The +remark was accompanied by an unmistakable leer.</p> + +<p>Even that, which I bore with difficulty, Jenny accepted graciously. She +gave him her hand, saying, "I know. Now let's forget all this and work +pleasantly together." She glanced at me. "And Mr. Austin, too, will +forget all about our little quarrel?"</p> + +<p>"I'm always willing to be friends with Mr. Powers, if he'll let me," I +said.</p> + +<p>"And so are all my friends, I'm sure," said Jenny.</p> + +<p>Going out, we had a strange encounter, which stands forth vivid in +memory. Jenny's brougham was waiting perhaps some thirty yards up the +road toward Catsford: the coachman had got down and was smoking; it took +him a moment or two to mount. In that space of time, while we waited at +the gate, Octon came out from Hatcham Ford and lounged across the road +toward us. At the same instant a landau drove up rapidly from the other +direction, going toward Catsford. In it sat Lady Sarah Lacey. She stared +at Octon and cut him dead; she bowed coldly and slightly to Jenny; she +inclined her head again in response to a low bow and a florid flourish +of his cap from Powers. I lifted my hat, but received no response. Jenny +returned the salute as carelessly as it was given, bestowed a +recognition hardly more cordial on Octon, and stepped into the brougham +which had now come up. As we drove off, Powers stood grinning soapily; +Octon had turned on his heel again and slouched slowly back, to his own +house.</p> + +<p>Jenny threw herself into the corner of the brougham, her body well away, +but her eyes on my face. For many minutes she sat like this; I turned my +eyes away from her; the silence was uncomfortable and ominous. At last +she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You've guessed something, Austin?"</p> + +<p>I turned my head to her. "I couldn't help it."</p> + +<p>She nodded, rather wearily, then smiled at me. "The signal's at +'Danger,'" she said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>SAVING A WEEK</h3> + + +<p>Seen in retrospect, the history of the ensuing days stands out clearly; +subsequent knowledge supplies any essential details of which I was then +ignorant and turns into certainties what were, in some cases, only +strong suspicions at the moment. If it be wondered—and it well may +be—that any woman should choose to live through such a time, it is +hardly less marvelous that she could stand the strain of it. Brain and +feelings alike must have been sorely taxed. Jenny never faltered; she +looked, indeed, tired and anxious, but she had many intervals of gayety, +and, as the crisis approached, she was remarkably free from her not +unusual little gusts of temper or of petulance. To all around her she +showed graciousness and affection, desiring, as it seemed, to draw from +us expressions of attachment and sympathy, making perhaps an instinctive +attempt to bind us still closer to her, to secure us for friends if +anything went wrong in the dangerous work on which she was engaged.</p> + +<p>She had a threefold struggle—one with Fillingford, one with Octon, the +last and greatest—really involving the other two—with herself. +Fillingford was pressing for her answer now. It was not so much that any +heat of emotion, any lover's haste, urged him on; he had begun to be +fearful for his dignity, to be apprehensive of the whispers and smiles +of gossip, if Jenny played with him much longer. She had made up her +mind to accept him. Not only were there the decorative attractions and +the wider sphere of influence; she felt that in a marriage with him lay +safety. She was not afraid of him; it would be a partnership in which +she could amply hold her own—and more than that. The danger pointed out +in her father's warning—so congenial to her that it sank deep into her +own mind and was never absent from it—would here be reduced to a +minimum. There the attractions of the project stopped. She was not the +least in love with him; I do not think that she even considered him an +actively agreeable companion. An absence of dislike and a genuine esteem +for his honorable qualities—that was all she could muster for him. No +wonder, perhaps, that, though her head had decided, her heart still +pleaded for delay.</p> + +<p>With Octon the case was very different. There she was fascinated, there +she was in thrall—so much in thrall that I am persuaded that she would +deliberately have sacrificed the attractions of the Fillingford +alliance, braved her neighbor's disapproval, imperiled the brilliant +fabric of popularity and power which she had been at such pains to +create—save for one thing. She was fascinated to love by the quality +which, above all others, she dreaded in marriage. In that great respect +wherein Fillingford was harmless, Octon was to her mind supremely to be +feared. The very difficulty she now felt in sending him away was earnest +of the dominion which he would exercise. Since he was a lover, no doubt +he made the usual lover's vows—or some of them; very likely he told her +that her will would be his law, or spoke more impassioned words to that +effect. Such protestations from his lips carried no conviction. The man +could not help being despotic. She was despotic, too. If he would not +yield, she could not answer for it that she would, and perhaps aspired +to no such abdication. Her foresight discerned, with fatal clearness, +the clash of their opposing forces, accentuated by the permanent +contrast of their tastes and dispositions. The master of Breysgate +Priory might again break Lady Aspenick's whip or insult the Mayor of +Catsford! Trifles from one point of view, but Jenny would not have such +things done. They were fatal to popularity and to power; they broke up +her life as she had planned it. There would arise an inevitable +conflict. In victory for herself—even in that—she saw misery. But she +could not believe in victory. She was afraid.</p> + +<p>Then she must let him go. She had the conviction clear at last; her +delicate equipoise—the ignorance of Fillingford against Octon's +suspicious but hopeful doubt—her having it both ways, could not be +maintained forever. Sentence was passed on Octon. I think that in his +heart he must have known it. But her fascination pleaded with her for a +long day—that the sentence should not be executed yet. To determine to +do it was one thing; doing it was quite another. Day by day she must +have debated "Shall it be to-morrow?" Day after day she delayed and +dallied. Day after day she saw him; whether they met at Ivydene with +Powers for sentinel, or whether she seized her chance to slip across +from Ivydene to Hatcham Ford, I know not. However that may be—and it +matters little—every afternoon she went down to Ivydene—to transact +Institute business—between tea and dinner. Late for business? Yes—but +Fillingford came earlier in the afternoons—and now it grew dark early. +A carriage or a car took her—but she never kept it waiting. She always +came home on foot in the gathering darkness.</p> + +<p>After her one explicit confidence, "The signal's at Danger," she became +unapproachable on the subject which filled alike her thoughts and mine. +Hence a certain distance came between us in spite of her affectionate +kindness. There were no more morning rides; she went only once or twice +herself; I did not know whether she met Lacey. I was less often at lunch +and dinner. We confined ourselves more to our official relations. We +were both awkwardly conscious of a forbidden or suppressed subject—one +that could not be approached to any good purpose unless confidence was +to be open and thorough. To that length she would not—perhaps could +not—go; she had to fight her battle alone. Only once she came near to +referring to the position of affairs, then no more than indirectly.</p> + +<p>"You looked rather fagged and worried," she said one day. "Why don't you +take a little holiday, and come back when things are settled?"</p> + +<p>"Would you rather I went away for a bit? I want you to tell me the +truth."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she answered with evident sincerity, almost with eagerness. "I +like to have you here." She smiled. "Somebody to catch me if I fall!" +Then, with a quickness that prevented any answer or comment of mine, she +returned to our business.</p> + +<p>So I stayed and watched—there was nothing else to do. If anybody +objects that the spectacle which I watched was not a pleasant one, I +will not argue with him. If anyone asserts that it was not a moral one, +not tending to edification, I may perhaps have to concede the point. I +can only plead that to me it was interesting—painful, perhaps, but +interesting. I believed that she would win; we who were about her got +into the way of expecting her to win. We looked for some mistakes, but +we looked also for dexterous recoveries and ultimate victories won even +in the face of odds. I will volunteer one more confession—I wanted her +to win—to win the respite she craved without detection and without +disaster. The sternness of morality is apt to weaken before the appeal +of a gallant fight—valor of spirit, and dexterity, and resource in +maneuver. We forget the merits of the cause in the pluck of the +combatant. As I believed, as I hoped, that Jenny would win, I also hoped +that she would not take too great, too long, a risk. The signal pointed +straighter to "Danger" every day.</p> + +<p>Chat—whom I have been in danger of forgetting, though I am sure I mean +her no disrespect—had her work in the campaign. It was to create +diversions, to act as buffer, to cover up Jenny's tracks when that was +necessary, to give plausible reasons for Jenny's movements when such +were needed; above all, delicately to imply to the neighborhood that the +Fillingford matter was all right—only they must give Miss Driver time! +Chat was a loyal, nay, rabid Octonite herself, but she was also a +faithful hound. She obeyed orders—and obeyed them with a certain skill. +On the subject of Jenny's shrinking timidity when faced with an offer of +marriage, Chat was beautifully convincing—I heard her do the trick once +for Mrs. Jepps's edification. The ladies were good enough not to make a +stranger of me. Mrs. Jepps, I may observe in passing, took a +healthy—and somewhat imperious—interest in one's marriage, and one's +means, and so on, as well as in one's religious opinions.</p> + +<p>"Always the same from a girl, Mrs. Jepps!" said Chat. "And after five +years of her I ought to know. I assure you we couldn't get her to speak +to a young man!"</p> + +<p>"Very unusual with girls nowadays," observed Mrs. Jepps.</p> + +<p>"Ah, our little village wasn't like Catsford! We were, I suppose you'd +call it, behind the times there. I had been brought up on the old lines, +and I inculcated them on my pupils. But, as I say, with Jenny there was +no need. The difficulty was the other way. Why, I remember a very nice +young fellow, named Maunders (was Maunders Rabbit, I wondered), who paid +her such nice attentions—so respectful! (Maunders was Rabbit, depend +upon it!) She used to be angry with him—positively angry, Mrs. Jepps." +Chat nodded sagely. "Comparing small things and great, it's the same +thing here." Thus did Chat transform into girlish coyness Jenny's +masterful grip on liberty!</p> + +<p>"It's possible to carry it too far. Then it looks like +shilly-shallying," said Mrs. Jepps.</p> + +<p>"She does carry it too far," Chat hastened to admit candidly. "Much too +far. Why, between ourselves, I tell her so every day." (Oh, oh, Chat, as +if you dared!) "I try to use some of my old authority." Chat smiled +playfully over this.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Jepps, rising to go, "I suppose the poor man's got to +put up with anything from sixty thousand a year!"</p> + +<p>In that remark Mrs. Jepps, shrewdly unconvinced by Chat's convincing +precedent, hit off the growing feeling of the neighborhood—the feeling +of whose growth Fillingford had begun to be afraid. He believed that all +communication with Octon had been broken off; he had never considered +Octon as a rival. He saw no ostensible reason for Jenny's hesitation; he +was either sure that she would say yes if forced to an answer, or he +made up his mind at last to take the risk. He came over to Breysgate +Priory with a formal offer and the demand for a formal answer.</p> + +<p>Needless to say, he did not confide this fact to me, but I had +information really as good as first-hand. On the day in question I was +sitting reading in my own house after lunch when, with a perfunctory +knock, young Lacey put his head in at the door.</p> + +<p>"Got any tobacco and a drink, Mr. Austin? We've walked over. I've +dropped the governor up the hill."</p> + +<p>I welcomed him, provided him with what he wanted, and sat him down by +the fire; it was late autumn now and chilly. He was looking amused in a +reflective sort of way.</p> + +<p>"I say, I suppose you're pretty well in the know up there, aren't you?" +He nodded in the direction of the Priory. "Not much danger of the +governor slipping up, is there? Oh, you know what I mean! There's no +reason you and I shouldn't talk about it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I do, Lord Lacey. Your father's at the Priory now?"</p> + +<p>"I've just left him there. It's a bit odd to do bottleholder for one's +governor on these occasions. It'd seem more natural the other way, +wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Depends a bit on the relative ages, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course, that's it. The governor's getting on, though." He +looked across at me. "He's a gentleman, though. The way he told Aunt +Sarah and me about it was good—quite good. He said his mind had been +made up for some time, but he couldn't formally take such a step without +discovering the feelings of the—well, he called us something +pleasant—the people who'd lived with him and done so much for his +happiness for so many years, ever since mother—'your dear mother,' he +said—died. So he told us what he was going to do, and asked our good +wishes. Rather straight of him, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>"I should always expect the straight thing of him," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes—and that'll suit her at all events." (Did he unintentionally hint +that some other things would not?) "She's straight as a die, isn't she? +Look at the straight way she's treated me! As soon as she saw me—well, +inclined to be—oh, you know!—she put it all straight directly; and +we're the best of pals—I'd go through fire and water for her—and I +wished the old governor luck with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"I'm delighted to hear you feel like that about it—I really am. And I'm +sure Miss Driver would be, too. I hope Lady Sarah is equally pleased?"</p> + +<p>His blue eyes twinkled. "You needn't put that on for me, Austin," he +remarked, with a pleasant lapse into greater intimacy. "I imagine Aunt +Sarah's feelings are no secret! However, she said all the proper things +and pecked the governor's cheek. Couldn't ask more, could you?" He +laughed as he stretched his shapely gaitered legs before the fire. +"After all, there'll be two pretty big houses—Fillingford and +Breysgate! Room for all!"</p> + +<p>"You'll be wanting one presently."</p> + +<p>"I shall live with the old folks—I say, how'd Miss Driver like to hear +that?—till I get married—which won't be for a long while, I hope. Then +we'll set Aunt Sarah up at Hatcham Ford. Octon will be gone by then, I +hope! I saw the fellow in the town the other day. I wonder he doesn't +go. It can't be pleasant to stop in a place where you're cut!"</p> + +<p>"Octon has his own resources, I daresay."</p> + +<p>"Sorry for the resources!" Lacey remarked. "I say, how long ought we to +give the governor?"</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry matters."</p> + +<p>"It can't take very long, can it? The governor means to settle it out of +hand; he almost said as much."</p> + +<p>"But then there's the lady. Perhaps she——"</p> + +<p>"Between ourselves, I fancy he thinks he's waited long enough."</p> + +<p>I had the same impression, but my mind had wandered back to another +point.</p> + +<p>"When did you see Octon?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I trotted Aunt Sarah down to that place—what's it called?—where the +Institute offices are. Aunt Sarah's got very keen on the Institute; she +must mean to queer it somehow, I think! Well, Octon was there, talking +to the clerk. She cut him dead, of course—marched by the pair of them +with her head up. Powers ran after her, and I addressed an observation +to Octon. You remember that little spar we had?"</p> + +<p>"At the Flower Show? Yes, I remember."</p> + +<p>"I was a bit fresh then," he confessed candidly, "and perhaps he wasn't +so far wrong to sit on me. But the beggar's got a rough way of doing it. +Well, it didn't seem civil to say nothing, so I said, 'I haven't had +that thrashing yet, and I'm getting a bit too big for it, like you, Mr. +Octon.'"</p> + +<p>"Was that your idea of something civil?" I felt constrained to ask.</p> + +<p>"He didn't mind," Lacey assured me. "But he said a funny thing. He +grinned at me quite kindly and said, 'You're just coming to the size for +something much worse.' What do you think he meant by that, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't the least idea."</p> + +<p>"He's a bounder—at least he must be, or he'd never have done that to +Susie Aspenick; but he's got his points, I think. I tell you what, I +shouldn't so much mind serving under him. One don't mind being sat on by +the C. O."</p> + +<p>"What was happening between Lady Sarah and Powers all this time?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless you, I don't know!" he answered scornfully. "Institute, I +suppose! I should be inclined to call the Institute rot if Miss Driver +wasn't founding it. At any rate Aunt Sarah and Powers—rather like a +beach photographer, isn't he?—seem as thick as thieves." He finished +off his whisky and soda. "Well, women must do something, I suppose," he +remarked. "Shall we go and beat up the governor?"</p> + +<p>He was impatient. I yielded, although I did not think that "the +governor" would be ready for us yet; I thought that, if Lord Fillingford +was to gain his cause that afternoon, he was in for a long interview +with Jenny. Evidently Lacey meant to wait. I was game to wait with him. +In these days I was all suspicion—on the alert for danger. It made me +uneasy to hear that Lady Sarah and Powers were "thick as thieves." +Mentally I paused to acknowledge the exquisite accuracy of Lacey's +"beach photographer." On the genus it would have been a libel; for the +species it was exact. I saw him with his velveteens, his hair, his +collar—against a background of paper-littered sands and "nigger +minstrels"; the picture recalled childhood, but without the proper +sentimental appeal.</p> + +<p>I was right. We had to walk up and down the terrace in front of the +house for a long while. Lacey talked all the time—his views, his +regiment, sports, races, what not. From the top of my mind—the surface +responsive to externals—I answered. Within I was following in +imagination the struggle of my dear, wayward, unreasonable mistress—of +her who wanted both ways, who would lead half a dozen lives, and unite +under her sway kingdoms between which there could be neither union nor +alliance.</p> + +<p>It was almost five o'clock by the time Fillingford came out; the sun had +begun to lose power; the peace of evening—and something of its +chill—rested on the billowing curves of turf and the gently swaying +treetops. As we saw him we came to a standstill, and so awaited his +approach.</p> + +<p>Under no circumstances, I imagine, could Lord Fillingford have looked +radiant. Even any overt appearance of triumph his taste, no less than +his nature, would have rejected; and his taste was infallible in +negatives. Yet on his face, as he came to us, there was unmistakable +satisfaction; he had done quite as well as he had expected—or even +better. I was glad—with a sharp pang of sorrow for the limitations of +human gladness. In my heart I should have been glad for Jenny to be +allowed to break rules—to have it all ways—as she wanted—for as long +as she wanted. There was the moral slope of which I have before made +metaphorical mention!</p> + +<p>He greeted me with a cordiality very marked for him, and laid a hand on +his son's shoulder affectionately. "I've kept you a terribly long time, +Amyas, and we mustn't bother Miss Driver any more. She's tired, I fear. +We'll go home for a cup of tea."</p> + +<p>Lacey was excited and anxious, but he knew his father better than to put +even the most veiled question to him in my presence.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir. Austin's been looking after me first-rate."</p> + +<p>I could not be mistaken; a touch of ownership over me—the hint of a +right to approve of me—came into Fillingford's voice. I seemed to feel +myself adopted as a retainer—or, at least, my past services to one of +the family acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure Mr. Austin is always most kind."</p> + +<p>The impression was subtle, but it confirmed, more than anything that had +yet happened, my certainty of Jenny's answer. I had further confirmation +the next moment. He stood on the edge of the terrace, his arm through +his son's, and looked over the view.</p> + +<p>"A fine position!" he said. "If it had been the fashion to build on the +top of a hill three centuries ago, we should have put the house here, I +suppose, instead of selling to the Dormers. It was part of our land +originally, you know, Mr. Austin." He pulled himself up with a laugh. "A +feudal lord's reminiscences! We do well enough if we can keep what we've +got nowadays—without regretting what we used to have. Come along, +Amyas, or your aunt will have given us up for tea!"</p> + +<p>He had sought to correct the impression he had given—to withdraw the +idea implicit in his words about Breysgate Priory; yet the withdrawal +seemed formal, made in deference to an obligation rather than really +effective or important. I was sure that, as he trod Breysgate park that +evening, he trod the soil as, in his own mind, already part of the +Fillingford domains. The most reserved of men cannot but tell something; +only a god or a brute, as the philosopher has it, can be absolutely +unrevealing. If Fillingford could have succeeded in attaining to +that—and I have no doubt that he tried—his son would have spoiled the +mystery. Familiarity taught him to read more clearly his father's +visage. His face beamed with exultation; as he had "wished the governor +luck with all his heart," now, without question, the moment I was out of +hearing, he wished him joy.</p> + +<p>I went in to Jenny, without stopping to think whether she had bidden me +come or not. I could not keep away; it even seemed to be something like +hypocrisy to keep away now on the pretext that I had not been expressly +summoned. She had told me that she liked me to stay—as "somebody to +catch her if she fell." That was, surely, at least a permission to be +near her?</p> + +<p>She was alone, save for Loft who was setting out the tea-tray in his +usual deft, speedy, deliberate way. She sat in the middle of the sofa, +looking straight in front of her. But she spoke to me directly I came +in, while Loft and the footman were still in the room.</p> + +<p>"You've just missed Lord Fillingford. Or did you see him as he went +away?</p> + +<p>"Yes, I met him and had a little talk with him. Young Lacey's been +gossiping with me most of the afternoon."</p> + +<p>Loft must have wanted to hear, but you'd never have known it! He +withdrew, imperturbable and serene. I think that Loft should be added to +the god and the brute, to form a trinity of impeccable illegibility.</p> + +<p>At a sign from Jenny I took my tea and drank it. She sat very quiet, +exhausted as it seemed, yet still thinking hard. I did not speak.</p> + +<p>"A long call, wasn't it?" she said at last, and a faint smile flickered +on her lips.</p> + +<p>"It was—and it seemed so, I daresay."</p> + +<p>"How did he look?"</p> + +<p>"Exceedingly well-content. And Lacey seemed most contented with his +appearance."</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders and smiled again rather contemptuously. I set +down my cup and came to her. "Well, good-night, Lady Jenny," I said.</p> + +<p>She looked up at me and suddenly spoke out the truth—in a hard voice, +bitter and resentful.</p> + +<p>"With prayers and vows—yes, and tears," she said, "I've saved a week."</p> + +<p>"Before you give your answer?"</p> + +<p>"No. The answer is given. Before the engagement is announced."</p> + +<p>"If you've given your answer, announce it to-night."</p> + +<p>She did not resent my counsel. But she shook her head. "I've fought that +battle with him already. I—I can't." She rose suddenly to her feet and +stood before me. "I've done it. I've managed to do it. It's done—and I +stand by it. But not to-day! I must have a week." She stretched out her +hands to me in appeal; there was a curious mixture of mockery and of +passion in her voice. She mocked me for certain—perhaps she mocked +herself, too; yet she was strongly moved. "Dear old, kind, +little-understanding Austin, you must give poor Jenny Driver her last +week!"</p> + +<p>The last week, which she must have, did all the mischief.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE BOY WITH THE RED CAP</h3> + + +<p>Jenny had failed with Powers; that seemed to be the state of the +case—or, at least, her success was so precarious as to put her whole +position in extreme peril. Neither storm nor sunshine, neither wrath nor +cajolery, had won him securely. Behind each he could discern its true +object—to gain time, to tide over. When Jenny had finished her +equivocal proceedings, when she had settled down either to Fillingford +or to Octon—Octon's success must still have seemed a possibility to the +accomplice of their meetings—what would she do with her equally +equivocal partner? Reward him? Yes, if she had trusted him. He knew very +well that she trusted him no longer; her threats and her wheedling +combined to prove it. Presumably Mr. Powers was acquainted with the +parable of The Unjust Steward; he, too, was a child of this +world—indeed his earthly parentage was witnessed to beyond the common +by his moral features. What should he do when he was no longer steward, +when Jenny was safely wedded to Fillingford, or had thrown off, of her +own motive or on compulsion, all secrecy about Octon? Lady Sarah should +receive—or at least introduce—him into a comfortable habitation and +put money in his pocket to pay its rent. Jenny had overrated her +domination; and she had forgotten that rogues are apt not to know when +they are well off. Even when their own pockets are snugly lined, a +pocket unpicked is a challenge and a temptation.</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah's conduct is sufficiently accounted for by most praiseworthy +motives—moral principle, family pride, loyalty to her brother. Let, +then, no others be imputed. But if Jenny would not credit these to her, +well, there were others of which she might have thought. She had chosen +not to think of Lady Sarah at all—in connection with Powers at all +events. The very omission might stand as a compliment to Lady Sarah, but +Jenny was not the person who could afford to pay it; her own safety and +honor still rested in those unclean hands.</p> + +<p>The last days—the week of Jenny's hard-won respite—passed for us at +Breysgate like the interval between the firing of a fuse and the +explosion. How would it go? Clear away obstacles and open the adit to +profitable working? Or blow all the mine to ruins, and engulf the +engineer in the <i>débris</i>? Nerves were on trial and severely tried. Chat +was in flutters beyond description. I do not suppose that I myself was a +cheerful companion. Jenny was steel, but the steel was red-hot.</p> + +<p>At last—the last day! Jenny's week of respite drew to its end. Be sure +I had counted! But if I had not, Octon himself came, most welcomely, to +announce it. With a mighty relief I heard him say, as he threw himself +into my arm-chair at the Old Priory, "I've just dropped in to say +good-by, Austin. I'm off to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Off? Where to?" I had sooner have asked "For how long?" His reply +answered both questions.</p> + +<p>"Right out of this hole—for good." He smiled. "So, for once, I chanced +meeting Lady Aspenick again in the park." He took up the poker and began +to dig and prod my coals: all through our talk he held the poker, now +digging and prodding, now using it to emphasize his words with a point +or a wave. "I'm done with here, Austin. I've played a game that I never +thought I should play again—and I've come to feel as if I'd never +played it before. I've played it with all the odds against me, and I've +made a good fight."</p> + +<p>"Yes, too good," I said.</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye! But I've lost. So I'm off." He lay back in the big chair—the +same one in which Lacey had stretched his graceful, lithe young +body—and looked up at me where I stood on the rug. "There's not much +more to say, is there? I thought I'd say that much to you because you're +a good fellow."</p> + +<p>"And you're not," I retorted angrily—(Remember our nerves!) "Have you +no care for what you love?"</p> + +<p>"Am I so much the worse man of the two?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"What's that got to do with it? Well, thank God you're going to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Everybody always thanks God when I go, and I generally thank Him +myself—but not to-day, perhaps." His next prod at the coals in the +grate was a vicious one. "I suppose that some day there'll be a general +feeling that I must be wiped out—an instinctive revolt against my +existence, Austin. This neighborhood has felt the thing already. Some +day it will be felt where stronger measures than cutting are in fashion. +Then I shall be killed. Perhaps I shall kill, too, but they'll get me in +the end, depend upon it!" Suddenly he smiled in a tender reflective way. +"That was what poor little Madge was always so afraid of. Well, I had a +good deal to try my temper while she was with me." He looked up at me, +smiling now in mockery. "Don't be shocked, my excellent Austin. I'm +talking about my wife."</p> + +<p>"Your wife!" I cried in utter surprise and consternation.</p> + +<p>That was exactly the effect he intended to produce and enjoyed +producing. Amidst all his distress he found leisure to indulge his taste +for administering shocks.</p> + +<p>"You've always thought of me as a bachelor, haven't you? I suppose +everybody thinks so—except one person. Well, it's no affair of theirs, +and they've never chosen to inquire. I didn't mean to tell you, but the +reference to her slipped out."</p> + +<p>"You've had a wife all this time?" I gasped, sinking into a chair +opposite to him.</p> + +<p>He laughed openly at me. "Poor old Austin! No, it's not Powers over +again." (So he knew about Powers!) "The poor child's been dead these +twelve years."</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders impatiently. "Does it really amuse you to play +the fool just now?"</p> + +<p>"It amused me to make you jump." He watched me with a malicious grin for +half a minute, then fell to prodding the coals again. "We were boy and +girl—and I had only two years with her, and during that time I had the +pleasure of seeing her nearly starve. I had no money and got very little +work; in the usual way of things, I came into my little bit of +money—it's precious little—too late. She was very pretty and a good +girl, but not a lady by birth—no, not a lady, Austin. Consequently my +folk—my respectable well-to-do folk—left her pretty nearly to +starve—and me to look on at it. That's among the reasons why I'm so +fond of respectable well-to-do people, why I have a natural inclination +to acquiesce in their claim to all the virtues."</p> + +<p>"Does Miss Driver know this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." He paused a moment. "She knows this—and a little more—which may +or may not turn out material some day."</p> + +<p>These words started my alarm afresh. Did he mean still to be in touch +with Jenny, still to keep up communication with her—a hold on her—even +though he went? If that were so, there was no end in sight, and no +peace. The next instant he relieved me from that fear by adding in a low +pensive voice, "But not while I live; we know each other no more after +to-day."</p> + +<p>Our eyes met again. He nodded at me, confirming his last words. "You may +rely on that," he seemed to say.</p> + +<p>"Do you leave by an early train to-morrow?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes—first thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>"By this time to-morrow I shall feel very kindly toward you, Octon, and +the more kindly for what you've told me to-day."</p> + +<p>"I believe you will, and I understand the deferred payment of your +love." He smiled at me again. "You're true to your salt, and I suppose +you're a bit in love yourself, though you don't seem to know anything +about it. Well, take care of her—take care of this great woman."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to talk about her to you. I don't see the good of it."</p> + +<p>"You ought to want to, because I understand her. But since you +don't——" He dropped the poker with a clatter and reared himself to his +height. "I'd better go, for, as heaven's above us, I can talk and think +of nothing else—till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going to?"</p> + +<p>"Into the dark"—he laughed gruffly—"Continent. Did my melodrama alarm +you? Not that it's dark any longer—more's the pity! It's not very +likely we shall meet again this side the Styx." He held out his hand to +me with a genuinely friendly air.</p> + +<p>"We're both young!" I said as I clasped his hand. In the end, still, I +liked him, and his story had moved me to a new pity. It was all of a +piece with his perversity that he should have hidden so long his +strongest claim to sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I could have been young," he answered. "And that stiff fool can't." He +squeezed my hand to very pain before he dropped it. "A great woman and a +good fellow—well, in this hole it's something to have met! As for the +rest of them—the fate of Laodicea, I think!"</p> + +<p>"You're so wrong, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes? As usual? In the end I shall certainly be stamped out!" He shook +his head with a whimsically humorous gravity. "Part of the objection to +me is simply because I'm so large."</p> + +<p>That was actually true when I came to think of it. His size seemed an +oppression—a perpetual threat—in itself a form of bullying. Small men +could have said the things he did with only half the offense; the other +half lay in his physical security.</p> + +<p>"Try to counteract that by improving your manners," I said, smiling at +him in a friendly amusement.</p> + +<p>"Let the grizzly bear put on silk knee-breeches—wouldn't he look +elegant? Good-by, Austin. Take care of her!"</p> + +<p>"Since you say that again—you know I would—with my life."</p> + +<p>"And I—to my death. And I seem to die to-day."</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be said to that. We walked out into the open air +together. I rejoiced that he was going, and yet was sad. Something of +what Jenny felt was upon me then—the interest of him, the challenge to +try and to discover, the greatness of the effort to influence, the +audacity of the notion of ruling. The danger of him—and his bulk! A +Dark Continent he seemed in himself! I could not but be sorry that my +little ship was now to lose sight of the coasts of it. But there was a +nobler craft—almost driven on to its rocks, still tossing in its +breakers. For her a fair wind off land and an open sea!</p> + +<p>As we stood before my door, I awaiting Octon's departure, he perhaps +loath to look his last on a scene which must carry for him such +significance, I saw Lacey coming toward me on horseback. He beckoned to +me in token that he wanted me.</p> + +<p>"Ah, an opportunity for another good-by!" said Octon grimly.</p> + +<p>Lacey brought his horse to a stand by us, but did not dismount.</p> + +<p>"I'm trespassing, I'm afraid, Lord Lacey! My being in this park is +against the law, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Octon's opening was not very conciliatory, but Lacey's good-humor was +proof against him. Moreover the lad looked preoccupied.</p> + +<p>"I'm not out for a row to-day, Mr. Octon," he said. "I want just one +word with you, Austin."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll be off," said Octon. He nodded to me; he did not offer to +shake hands again.</p> + +<p>"I'll come and see you off to-morrow morning. The eleven-five, I +suppose?" That was the fast train to London.</p> + +<p>"Yes. All right, I shall be glad to see you. To Lord Lacey—and his +friends—this is good-by."</p> + +<p>"You're going away?" asked Lacey, joy and relief plain in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You seem very glad."</p> + +<p>"I am glad," said young Lacey, "but I mean no offense, Mr. Octon."</p> + +<p>Their eyes met fair and square. I expected an angry outburst from Octon, +but none came; his look was moody again, but it was not fierce. He +looked restless and unhappy, but he spoke with dignity.</p> + +<p>"I recognize that. I take no offense. Good-by, Lord Lacey." With a +slight lift of his hat, courteously responded to by Lacey, he turned his +back on us and walked away with his heavy slouching gait, his head sunk +low on his shoulders. We watched him go for a moment or two in silence.</p> + +<p>"Is he going for good?" Lacey asked me.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He seemed to consider something within himself. "Then I don't know that +I really need trouble you. It's a delicate matter and—" He beat his leg +with his crop, frowning thoughtfully. "I wonder, Austin, whether you're +aware how matters stand between Miss Driver and my father?" His use of +"my father" instead of "the governor" was a significant mark of his +seriousness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she told me."</p> + +<p>"My father told me. To-morrow is the day for the announcement. Austin, +the last two or three days my father has been very worried and upset. +Aunt Sarah's been at him about something. I'm sure it's about—about +Miss Driver. I can tell it is by the way they both look when her name's +mentioned. And I—I tried an experiment. At lunch to-day I began to talk +about that fellow Powers. I tried it on by saying I thought he was a +scoundrel and that I hoped Miss Driver would give him the sack. I never +saw a man look up with such a start as my father did. Aunt Sarah was +ready to be on to me, but he was too quick. 'Why do you say that?' he +snapped out—eagerly, you know—as if he was uncommonly anxious to hear +my reasons. Well, of course, I'd none to give, only my impressions of +the chap. Aunt Sarah looked triumphant and read me a lecture on envy, +malice, and all uncharitableness. My father sat staring at the +tablecloth, but listening hard to every word. Why the devil should my +father be so interested in Powers? Can you tell me that, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"No, I can't tell you," I said, "but I'm much obliged to you for +this—information."</p> + +<p>"I thought there would be—well, just no harm in mentioning it to you," +he said. "Of course it's probably all right really. And if everything is +settled, and announced, and all that, to-morrow—and—" He broke off, +not adding in words what there was no need to add—"Octon gone +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>But to-day was not to-morrow. Lady Sarah was at work, and Fillingford +much interested in Mr. Powers! Worried, upset, and very much interested +in Powers!</p> + +<p>Lacey gathered his reins and prepared to be off. "Sorry if I've meddled +in what's not my business," he said. "But I'm ready to take the +responsibility." That was permission to me to use his information, and +to vouch his authority to Jenny. He nodded to me. "See you to-morrow, +perhaps, and we'll drink the health of the engaged couple!" He smiled, +but he looked puzzled and not very happy, rather as though he were +hoping for the best, and staving off anticipation of some hitch or +misfortune.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was gone, I went up to the Priory. My task was not an easy +one, but I had an overwhelming feeling—a feeling which refused all +counter-argument—that it was necessary. There was still this one +evening—an opportunity for a last bit of recklessness, and Heaven alone +knew how great a temptation.</p> + +<p>Jenny received me in her little upstairs sitting-room, next to the room +where she slept. She wore an indoors gown and, in answer to my formal +inquiry, told me that she had a cold and was feeling rather "seedy"—not +a common admission for her to make. Then I went to work, stumbling at my +awkward story—so full of implied accusation against her, if it were not +utterly unmeaning—under the steady thoughtful gaze of her eyes. She +heard me to the end in silence.</p> + +<p>"If that rascal is trying to make mischief, if he has trumped up some +story—" I tried so to put it that she could feel entitled to be on her +guard without making any admissions.</p> + +<p>She made none, and offered no direct comment on the story. She took up +an envelope from the writing-table by her.</p> + +<p>"This is my formal leave to Lord Fillingford to announce our engagement. +I was going to post it to-night. I'll send it now by a groom. Please +ring the bell for me, Austin."</p> + +<p>Loft appeared. She gave him the letter and ordered that a groom should +take it to Fillingford Manor on horseback. Loft glanced at the clock.</p> + +<p>"The men will just be at their tea, miss," he said. It was now about +half-past four.</p> + +<p>"It'll do in half an hour's time," she answered. "But let it get there +this afternoon without fail."</p> + +<p>As Loft went out, she turned to me. "There now, that's settled."</p> + +<p>Was it? There was still to-night. I suspected to-night desperately. I +suspected Jenny's love of having it both ways to the very last moment +that she could. I suspected the strength of the lure toward Octon. +Whether she divined my suspicions I cannot tell. She went on in her +simplest, most plausible way.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm going to lie down, and I'm not sure I shall get up again. A +plate of soup and a novel in bed look rather attractive! And I must get +a good beauty-sleep—against my lord's coming to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>She held out her hand to me. As I took it I gave her a long look. The +bright eyes were candid and unembarrassed. Yet I had grave doubts +whether Jenny was speaking the whole truth—and nothing but it!</p> + +<p>On the stairs I encountered Chat. She broke out on me volubly about +Jenny's indisposition.</p> + +<p>"You've seen our poor Jenny—the poor child? So ill, such a cold! And +she actually wanted to go down to Catsford to see Mr. Bindlecombe and +Mr. Powers on some Institute business! As if she was fit to go out—a +raw cold evening, too, and getting dark so much earlier nowadays! At any +rate I persuaded her out of that, and I do hope she'll be sensible and +go to bed."</p> + +<p>"So do I—very much, Miss Chatters," I replied.</p> + +<p>"And she's just given me to understand that she means to do it."</p> + +<p>"That's the safe thing," Chat averred with emphasis; and, without a +doubt, she was perfectly right—from more points of view than one. In +bed at Breysgate, with her soup, her novel, and a watchful maid in +attendance, Jenny would be safe. I did not, however, need quite as much +convincing of it as Chat seemed disposed to administer to me.</p> + +<p>There was nothing more to do. I went back home, brewed myself a cup of +tea, and sat down to write letters; writing letters compels an attention +which would wander from a book. I had an accumulation to answer, some on +my own account, the greater part on Jenny's affairs, and I worked away +steadily till it was nearly seven o'clock. Then I was suddenly +interrupted by a loud knock on my door. As I rose, the door opened, and +Lacey was again before me. He was still in riding dress, but his boots +were covered with dust; he was hot and out of breath. He had been +walking—walking fast, or even running. He seemed excited, but tried to +smile at me.</p> + +<p>"Here I am again!" he said. "I don't know whether I am a fool, Austin—I +hope I am—but there's something I want you to hear." He shut the door +behind him, glanced at the clock, and went on quickly. "Do you know a +sandy-haired boy who wears a red cap and rides a girl's bicycle?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered. "That's Powers's boy—Alban Powers."</p> + +<p>"I thought I remembered the young beggar. That boy brought a note up to +Aunt Sarah while we were having tea—about a quarter past five, it must +have been, I think. Aunt Sarah pounced on the note, read it, said there +was no answer, and then handed the note over to my father. 'Who's it +from?' he asked peevishly. 'You'll see if you read it,' she said. I +asked if I was <i>de trop</i>, but my father signed to me to sit where I was. +He read the note, and handed it back to Aunt Sarah. 'What are you going +to do?' she asked. 'Nothing,' he said. She pursed up her lips and +shrugged her shoulders—she made it pretty plain what she thought of +that answer. 'Nothing!' she sort of whispered, throwing her eyes up to +the ceiling. Then he broke out: 'I've forbidden the subject to be +mentioned!'—but he looked very unhappy and uncomfortable. Nobody said +anything for a bit; Aunt Sarah looked obstinate-silent and my father +unhappy-silent. I tried to talk about something or other, but it was no +good. Then the man came in with another note, saying a groom had brought +it for his lordship. Well, he read that—and it seemed to please him a +bit better."</p> + +<p>"Well it might!" I remarked. "It was from Miss Driver and it said what +he wanted."</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit, Austin. He sat with this note—Miss Driver's—in his hand, +turning it over and over. He didn't offer to show it to either of us, +but he kept looking across at Aunt Sarah. I took up a paper, but I +watched them from behind it. He was weighing something in his mind; she +wouldn't look at him—playing sulky still over the business of the first +note, the one that boy in the red cap had brought. At last he got up and +went over to her. He spoke rather low, but I heard—well, he could have +sent me away, or gone away with her himself, if he hadn't wanted me to +hear. 'A note I've had from Miss Driver makes it very proper for me to +call on her this evening,' he said. Aunt Sarah looked up, wide awake in +a minute. 'You'll go this evening—to Breysgate?' she asked. 'Yes, at +seven.' 'At seven,' she repeated after him with a nod. 'But perhaps +she'll be out.' 'That's possible,' he answered. 'But I shall wait for +her—she must come in before dinner.' Aunt Sarah looked hard at him. +'They'll probably know where she's gone if she is out. You could go and +meet her,' she said to him. I can't give you the way they talked—it was +all as if what they said meant something different, or something more, +at any rate. When Aunt Sarah suggested that he might go and meet Miss +Driver, he started a little, then thought it over. At last he said, 'I +shall try to find her to-night.' 'You're sensible at last!' she +said—and added something in a whisper. My father nodded, and walked out +of the room, pocketing his letter. Aunt Sarah went to the fire and +burned hers. I wish I could have got a look at it!"</p> + +<p>"So do I," I said. "It's just on seven now."</p> + +<p>I was thinking hard. The boy with the red cap—Powers's boy—the +note—the subterranean quarrel over it—the strange half-spoken +half-suppressed conversation that followed—these gave plenty of matter +for thought when I added to them my sore doubts of the way in which +Jenny in truth meant to spend the evening.</p> + +<p>"Of course it may be all nothing. I'm afraid all the time of being +infernally officious."</p> + +<p>"Your father will pretty nearly be at Breysgate by now."</p> + +<p>"And she's there, I suppose, isn't she?" His question was full of +hesitation.</p> + +<p>In an instant, on his question, my doubts and suspicions seemed to +harden into certainties. I knew—it was nothing less than +knowledge—that she was not there, and that the note brought by the boy +with the red cap told truly where she was. Fillingford would go to +Breysgate—he would be referred to Chat. Chat would tell him that Jenny +was in bed. Would he believe it and go home peacefully—to face Lady +Sarah's angry scorn and the doubts of his own perplexed mind? He +might—then all would be well. But he might not believe it. He had said +that he would try to find her to-night. He knew where to find her—if he +trusted the information which the boy in the red cap had brought.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know you've come here, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Not he! I got a start—and, by Jove, I ran! Are you going to do +anything about it?"</p> + +<p>I was quite clear what I had to do about it. Chat must be in the secret; +she might manage to send Fillingford home—or she might keep him at +Breysgate long enough to give me, in my turn, a chance. No good lay in +my going to meet him—Chat could lie as well as I, and, if he would not +believe her, he would not believe me either. Neither would I send Lacey +to him; any appearance of Lacey's in the matter would show that we were +afraid, that we knew there was something to conceal. My course was to +take the start Lacey's warning gave me, to go where Jenny was, trusting +to reach her in time to get her away before Fillingford came on from +Breysgate. It was time to put away pretenses, scruples, formalities. I +must find her wherever she was; I must meet her face to face with my +message of danger.</p> + +<p>I put on my hat and coat hastily. Lacey stood looking at me.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Where that boy came from," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind if I come, too? As far as the house, say?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to come?"</p> + +<p>He spoke with a certain calm authority. "I think I've a right to come. +You must excuse me for saying that I think I know with whom we're +dealing. We may very likely be in for a row, Austin. I don't want to be +seen, if I can help it, but I do want to be somewhere handy in case my +father—well, in case there is a row, you know."</p> + +<p>Yes, we knew with whom we might have to deal. A row was not unlikely.</p> + +<p>"Very well, come along," I said.</p> + +<p>The clock struck seven as we started out into a dull, foggy, chill +evening. Darkness had fallen and the lights of Catsford twinkled in the +valley beneath us. As we began to walk, I heard carriage wheels on the +road behind us. Fillingford was on his way to Breysgate. Lie well, Chat! +Be clever! Keep him there—keep him there, till the danger is overpast!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE EIGHT-FIFTEEN TRAIN</h3> + + +<p>If Jenny were bound to see Leonard Octon that evening, why had she not +sent for him to her own house? In order that the servants might not +know, and spread the gossip among their friends in other households? For +fear that some of the neighbors, to whom she had sacrificed him, might +pass by and see him going in or coming out, or even might call and +encounter him there? A visit from the Aspenicks, from Lacey, from +Alison, was not impossible. Who could say that Fillingford himself would +not do as, in fact, he had done, and go to Breysgate on receipt of her +letter? There were plausible reasons to be given for her action, but +they were not, coolly regarded, of sufficient strength to outweigh the +great fact that, whereas a meeting at Breysgate might have been reckoned +a bit of defiance and unfriendliness to Fillingford and his allies, a +meeting at Ivydene or, above all, at Hatcham Ford was open to a far more +damaging interpretation; it was a terrible risk, an indiscretion fatal +if discovered.</p> + +<p>For the motives which determined her action, it is necessary, I believe, +to look deeper, less to her reasoning, more to her character, and to the +feeling under whose sway she was. Her obstinate courage refused to show +the white feather to her distrust of Powers; that very distrust itself +appealed to her love of a risk. She would do the thing because it was +dangerous—because, if it came off well, the peril of it would have made +it so much sweeter to her taste, would have given the flavor of mystery +she loved, and been such a defiance of fate as was an attraction to her +spirit. "Once more!" always appealed to Jenny; to try once more—once +again beyond the point of safety. "Once more!" has appealed to—and has +ruined—many lovers. Is not the scene, too, something? To lovers a +meeting in the old place is doubly a meeting, and becomes a memory of +double strength. The shrine has its sacredness as well as the deity; the +spirit of the encounter is half lost in alien surroundings. "Once +more—in the old place!" So she felt on the evening when she was to meet +for the last time the man whom she dared not keep with her, but whose +going wrung her heart. Farewell it was—it should be full farewell!</p> + +<p>Lacey and I ran till we nearly reached the gates of the park; then we +walked quickly, pausing now and again to listen for carriage wheels +behind us. We heard none. Fillingford was lingering at Breysgate—Chat +must be playing her game well! Jenny was in bed and perhaps would get +up—or Jenny was out and would soon be back; by some story or other Chat +was fighting to keep him where he was. The thought gave hope, and I +pushed on. Lacey kept pace with me; he never spoke till we came opposite +to Ivydene, and saw the shrubberies of Hatcham Ford on our right.</p> + +<p>"That's as far as I go," said Lacey, "for the present. It's no business +of mine unless my father comes—and wants me."</p> + +<p>I left him standing in the road, just opposite the gate of Hatcham Ford, +which was open. I went on to Ivydene and knocked. I waited, but nobody +came. I knocked again impatiently. There was a clatter of hob-nailed +shoes along the stone passage inside. The door was opened by the boy in +the red cap.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Alban, how are you? Is your father in?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir—mother's out, too, sir. I'm taking care of the house." The boy +looked pleased and proud—almost as if he knew, though of course he did +not, the importance he had possessed in our eyes that day.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where your father is?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's at Hatcham Ford, sir. Mr. Octon came across a little while +ago and asked for father, and when father came to the door he told him +to get his hat and come back to the Ford with him. I expect he's there +still."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Alban. I'll go and have a look."</p> + +<p>I expected to find Powers on guard, acting scout, before the door or in +the shrubbery, and quickly crossed the road to the Ford. As I went, I +looked about for Lacey, but could see him nowhere. Either he had gone +back along the road toward Breysgate, to watch for Fillingford's +possible approach, or else he had thought he might attract attention if +he loitered in the road, and had taken refuge from observation in the +shrubberies. I passed quickly along the gravel walk, went up to the hall +door, and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>A moment or two passed. Then Octon himself opened the door. The light of +the gas jet over the doorway was full on his face; he was very pale, and +drops of perspiration stood on his brow. But when he saw me his face lit +up with a sudden relief. "You! Thank God!" he said. "The very man we +wanted! Come inside."</p> + +<p>"Is she here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She mustn't stay a minute. There's danger."</p> + +<p>"I know there is," he said grimly. "We found that out from Powers. I've +killed him, Austin, or all but. Come into the dining-room."</p> + +<p>I followed him into the room where I had once waited while he and Jenny +talked. As we passed through the hall, I noticed a portmanteau and a bag +standing ready packed.</p> + +<p>In the dining-room Jenny was crouching on the floor beside Powers; she +was giving him something to drink out of a wineglass. The man lay there +inert. I went up and looked at him, bending down close. There were marks +of fingers on his neck; he had been half strangled.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Jenny was crouching on the floor beside Powers</i></h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p>Jenny had taken no notice when I came in. Now she looked up. "It's all +right, he's coming to," she said. "I thought he was gone, though. We +made him confess what he'd done, you know. Then he grew insolent, and +Leonard—" She turned to Octon with a smile. She seemed to say, "Well, +you can guess what Leonard would do under those circumstances!"</p> + +<p>"You must come away from here," I said in a low urgent voice. +"Fillingford may be here at any moment. He went to Breysgate first—but +he'll come on here. He knows—and he means to find you."</p> + +<p>"If he knows, what does it matter whether he finds me or not? And what +are we to do with Powers?"</p> + +<p>"Leave him to me. I'll get him back to his own house." I had it in my +mind that I could call Lacey to help me to carry him.</p> + +<p>While I spoke, she was giving the man another drink. He gurgled in his +throat and moved uneasily. She looked up again: "He's doing all right, +but—hadn't Leonard better go?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Octon. "I'm here to see it through."</p> + +<p>"No, no," I said hastily. "She's right, you go. This may be a police +matter, if he takes it that way—or if Fillingford comes and finds him. +If you're here, you may be arrested. Then everything's got to come out! +For her sake you ought to go."</p> + +<p>"You must go, Leonard," said Jenny. She propped Powers's head on a +footstool and rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>"It would be the best thing," said Octon. "It's only to-night instead of +to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>His decision was taken. He lingered only one minute. He held out both +his hands to her, and she put hers in them. I looked away; by chance my +eyes fell on the mantelpiece. It struck me differently somehow; in an +instant it occurred to me that the picture of the beautiful young girl +was not there.</p> + +<p>"There's a fast train to London at 8.15. You can catch that," I said. +"And you'd better go abroad to-morrow. I can let you know what happens."</p> + +<p>"Wire as soon as you can—Grand Hotel to-night—to-morrow, the +Continental, Paris. Write to-morrow, and send my portmanteau; I'll take +my bag. I shall come back if there's any trouble."</p> + +<p>"No, no, you mustn't," said Jenny.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll see about that presently. Good-by."</p> + +<p>I watched him go into the hall and take up his bag; then I came back to +Jenny.</p> + +<p>"Now come away," I said, quickly. "You don't want to meet Fillingford, +and he may be here any minute. I'll see you safe on the road, then I'll +come back to this fellow. We can hush it all up—it's only a matter of +enough money."</p> + +<p>I heard the wheels of a carriage in the road. Jenny held up her hand for +silence. We listened a moment. The carriage stopped at the gate of +Hatcham Ford. It was Fillingford—Would he meet Octon? I feared that +Octon would take no pains to avoid him.</p> + +<p>In that I was wrong. The situation had sobered him. He had seen where +lay the best chance for Jenny, and he would not throw it away. When the +carriage drove up, he was just by the gate of Ivydene—Lacey, hidden in +the shrubberies, saw him there. He drew back into the shadow of the gate +and watched Fillingford get out. Fillingford, intent on Hatcham Ford, +never glanced in his direction. When Fillingford had gone in, he resumed +his way to the station.</p> + +<p>When I heard the carriage stop, I cried to Jenny, "He mustn't find you! +Run upstairs somewhere—I'll manage to send him away."</p> + +<p>"What's the good?" she asked. "We've got to have it out; we may as well +have it out now." She looked at me haughtily. "I'm not inclined to hide +from Lord Fillingford."</p> + +<p>Powers's hand went up to his throat; he coughed and gurgled again. She +looked down at him with a smile. "What's the good of hiding me? You +can't hide that!"</p> + +<p>"I won't let him in at all!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"What's the good? He'll know I'm here if you do that. It's best to let +him in. I'm not afraid to meet him, and I'd rather—know to-night."</p> + +<p>His knock came on the door. I went and opened it. He started at the +sight of me.</p> + +<p>"You, Mr. Austin? I was looking for Mr. Octon."</p> + +<p>"He's not here," I answered. "He has just left for London."</p> + +<p>He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Then are you alone here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Before I had time to think of my answer, Jenny's voice came from the +dining-room. "I am here. Bring Lord Fillingford into this room, Austin."</p> + +<p>He did not start now, but he bit his lip. I stood aside to let him pass, +and shut the door after him. Then I followed him into the dining-room. +Jenny was standing near the fire beside Powers, who kept shifting his +head about on the footstool with stiff awkward movements. Fillingford +came to the middle of the room and bowed slightly to Jenny; then his +eyes fell on Powers and, in sudden surprise, he pointed his finger at +him.</p> + +<p>"My servant—and your spy," she said. "He has had a narrow escape of his +life."</p> + +<p>"So it's true," he said—not in question, but to himself, in a very low +voice. "True to-night—and true often before!"</p> + +<p>She made no attempt at denial. "Yes, I have often been here. I'll answer +any question you like to put—and answer it truthfully.</p> + +<p>"What I know is enough. I impute no more than I know."</p> + +<p>"I thank you for that at least. It's only justice, but justice must be +hard to give—from you to me."</p> + +<p>"But what I know is—enough."</p> + +<p>"You've a perfect right to say so."</p> + +<p>Both were speaking calmly and quietly. There was no trace of passion in +their voices. Neither took any heed of me, but I stayed—since she had +not bidden me go.</p> + +<p>He took a letter from his pocket. I recognized the large square envelope +as of the shape which Jenny used.</p> + +<p>"The letter you were so good as to send me this afternoon," he said, +holding it up in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I read it with very great pleasure." He tore it into four pieces and +flung them on the table before him. They lay there between him and +Jenny. He looked at her with a smile. "You're not like Eleanor Lacey for +nothing," he said.</p> + +<p>She smiled, too, and raised a hand to restrain me, for at his bitter +taunt I had made a step forward, meaning to interpose.</p> + +<p>"Probably not!" she answered. Then she turned to me. "You'll look after +Powers for me, won't you, Austin? It's only a matter of money with him, +as we all know—and Mr. Cartmell has plenty."</p> + +<p>"I'll do all I can to prevent your being troubled at all."</p> + +<p>"I shan't be troubled—but I shall be grateful to you. Lord Fillingford, +in return for your compliment, may I beg a favor of you?" She had given +a quick glance at the clock.</p> + +<p>"Anything that it's in my power to grant," he answered with a little +bow.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing great—only the loan of your carriage. I came here on +foot—and I'm tired."</p> + +<p>"It's quite at your disposal."</p> + +<p>"It's not inconvenient? You're not hurried?"</p> + +<p>"I can walk, Miss Driver."</p> + +<p>"Please don't do that. I'll send it back for you as quickly as +possible."</p> + +<p>"As you please," he said courteously.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Austin," she said to me, holding out her hand. "Don't come +with me. I'd rather find my own way to the carriage, if you and Lord +Fillingford will let me."</p> + +<p>I took her hand. She gave mine a quick light squeeze. "God bless you, +Austin," she said. Then, with a last slight salutation to Fillingford, +she walked out of the room—and we heard the hall door shut behind her. +Fillingford stood where he was for a moment, then slowly sat down. I +went to the table and collected the fragments of Jenny's letter. I made +a gesture toward the fire. He nodded. I flung the pieces into the +flames.</p> + +<p>Powers slowly raised his head, leaning on his elbow. "Where am I?" he +muttered.</p> + +<p>"Not where you ought to be," I said. He laid his head down again, +grumbling inarticulately.</p> + +<p>"We want no publicity about this, Mr. Austin," said Fillingford—he +spoke quite in his usual reserved and measured way. "I shall be willing +to second your efforts in that direction. This man had better be got out +of the town quietly—that can probably be managed by using the +appropriate means. For the rest, no public announcement having been +made, nothing need be said. It will probably be desirable for me to go +away for a few weeks—that is, if Miss Driver prefers to remain at +Breysgate. Or, if she takes a short holiday, I can remain—just as she +wishes."</p> + +<p>"I think it can all be managed, Lord Fillingford. We must try to have as +little gossip as possible—for everybody's sake."</p> + +<p>"You don't want my help to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I can get him home. He'll soon be well enough, I hope, to +understand that it's his interest to hold his tongue, and I can settle +the rest with him to-morrow. If he is inclined to make trouble——"</p> + +<p>"I think that we can persuade him between us. If you need my help, let +me know."</p> + +<p>"I'm much obliged to you for that." I paused for a moment. "You, I +suppose, have no business with him just now?"</p> + +<p>He looked at me gravely. "I am informed that he has already been paid +for his services," he said. "Such services, Mr. Austin, are, as your +tone implied, not very pleasant to receive. But the greater fault seems +to lie with those whose methods make them necessary." He rose to his +feet, saying, "It'll be some time before the carriage gets back. I think +I'll start on my way and meet it. You're sure I can be of no use? No? +Then good-night, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Lord Fillingford."</p> + +<p>"You will communicate with me, if necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I don't see why it should be."</p> + +<p>With these words we had reached the door, and I opened it. At the moment +I saw the lamps of his carriage at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Look, the carriage is back already; it can't have taken her half the +way!"</p> + +<p>He made no reply, and we walked quickly down the path together.</p> + +<p>"You took Miss Driver home, Thompson?" Fillingford asked the coachman.</p> + +<p>"No, my lord, not to Breysgate. Miss Driver wished to go to the station. +I drove there and set her down. She told me to come back here +immediately, my lord."</p> + +<p>"To the station?" we both exclaimed, startled into an involuntary show +of surprise.</p> + +<p>The man hesitated a little. "I—I beg pardon, my lord, but I think Miss +Driver meant to go by train. She asked me to drive quickly—and she'd +just have managed the eight-fifteen."</p> + +<p>I looked at my watch, it was just on half-past eight.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she only wanted to see—somebody—off," said Fillingford, soon +recovered from his momentary lapse into a betrayal of surprise. He +turned to me. "That'll be it, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>I looked at his face—there was no telling anything from it. It had +given no sign of change as he made his reference to Octon. I think that +he must have seen something in mine, for he added in a low voice, "Very +likely that's all." He seemed to urge this view upon me.</p> + +<p>Well, it was not an unlikely view. She had risked much for a last talk +with Octon. She might well be tempted to seek another, a final, +farewell. But I was very uneasy.</p> + +<p>Without more words, merely with a polite lift of his hat, Fillingford +got into his carriage and was driven off toward the Manor. I turned and +walked slowly back to the house. Lacey came out from the shrubbery on +the left of the path. "Well?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I want your help inside," I said.</p> + +<p>He asked no questions. We went in together and set to work with Powers. +With the help of brandy and a shaking we got him on his feet. Soon he +was well enough to be led home. His wife was in by now and opened the +door for us. I told her that he had had a kind of seizure, but was much +better—there was no need of a doctor. I sent her to get his bed ready. +Then I had a word with him.</p> + +<p>"Can you understand business?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I feel queer, though."</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue and you shall be well paid. Talk, and you won't get a +farthing. Do you understand that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>"Very well, act on it for to-night—and I'll come and see you +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>I left his wife getting him to bed. I do not think that the story of the +seizure imposed on her, but she pretended to accept it. Probably she was +accustomed to his having accidents—the risks of the trade he practiced +were considerable. Meanwhile Lacey had been over to the Ford again, and +left a written message on the table, saying that Octon had been called +to town and would not be back that night. All else could wait till +to-morrow. Now I wanted to get back to Breysgate. Lacey, too, was for +home, which he could reach quicker by the public road than by coming +round through our park. He had put to me no question at all up to now. +Just as we were parting he did ask two.</p> + +<p>"We didn't bring it off, I gather?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. Most certainly we had not brought it off.</p> + +<p>"How did the—the governor behave?"</p> + +<p>One speech of "the governor's" had been perhaps a little bitter. That +was his right; and the bitterness was in the high manner—as Jenny +herself had felt.</p> + +<p>"He behaved—perfectly." That description was—from our side—only his +due.</p> + +<p>Lacey looked at me, smiled woefully, and shrugged his shoulders. +"Yes—and so he's lost her!" he said. He turned on his heel, and swung +off into the darkness. I was left with a notion that we possessed a man +more than we had counted in our neighborhood.</p> + +<p>I made for the Priory—<i>ventre-à-terre</i>. Something had come +home to Jenny when Fillingford tore up her letter and told her that +she was not like Eleanor Lacey for nothing. Till then she had been +negotiating—negotiating still, though ever so defiantly—still trying +to find out what he thought, trying to see what view he took, even +though she ostentatiously abstained from self-defense. At that action +and at that speech she had frozen. "Probably not!" That was her +acceptance of his action and his words. She had taken them for her +answer—the tearing of the letter and his one bitter speech.</p> + +<p>The big house lay hospitably open to the night—lights in the windows, +lamps burning in the hall and illuminating the approach. Well, it was +early evening yet—only nine o'clock. All might be safe and well within +doors, and yet the doors be open. I ran up the steps in a passion of +excitement.</p> + +<p>As I reached the door, I was met—not by Loft nor by any of the men—but +by the trembling figure of a woman. Chat had heard feet on the +steps—she had been in waiting! My heart sank as lead. Whom had she been +waiting for? Not for me!</p> + +<p>"I did my best, I did my best," she whispered, catching me by the lapel +of my greatcoat. "I kept him as long as I could. What happened?"</p> + +<p>"The worst of luck. Is she here?"</p> + +<p>"Here?" She seemed amazed. "No! Did you see her? Where have you left +her?"</p> + +<p>"Then she's gone," I said.</p> + +<p>Chat stood where she was for a second, then dropped into the +hall-porter's chair which was just behind her. She began to sob +violently, rocking herself to and fro. "I tried, I tried, I tried!" she +kept saying through her sobs.</p> + +<p>I became suddenly aware that Loft had come into the hall. He appeared +not to notice Chat. He stood there, grave and attentive, awaiting my +orders.</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver has been suddenly called away. I don't think she'll be home +to night. If she should come, the night-watchman will let her in, and +Miss Chatters will be up. The rest of you needn't wait after your usual +time."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," said Loft. Gravely, with his measured step, he walked +away and left us alone together.</p> + +<p>Chat stopped sobbing for a moment—to ask me a supremely unimportant +question.</p> + +<p>"Was she very angry with me, Mr. Austin?"</p> + +<p>"She didn't say one word about you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm glad of that, I'm glad of that!" Her sobbing again broke the +silence of the great empty house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>IN THE DOCK</h3> + + +<p>She had gone—and we, her friends, were left to make the best of the +situation.</p> + +<p>It proved, indeed, easy enough to deal with Powers; the police court was +not to be added to our troubles! The man was thoroughly frightened and +shaken; confronted with the suggestion that Octon might well return in a +few days, he was eager to hide himself. Cartmell took advantage of his +mood and pared down his money cruelly; he took what he could get—no +doubt he had been well paid from Fillingford Manor—and within two days +was out of Catsford with all his belongings. There, one might well hope, +was an end of Powers; even Jenny would not call him back again!</p> + +<p>But an end of Powers did not much mend matters; even the fact that +Jenny's engagement to Fillingford had not been formally announced failed +to assist them to any great extent. The engagement had been a subject of +general speculation, confidently foretold and almost daily expected. Now +the subject of common talk was very different. Jenny was gone, Octon was +gone. So far, perhaps, little. One might return, the other had, no +doubt, good reasons for departure. But there were witnesses of their +departure together, and of circumstances which made it look strange. +Alison the Rector was one of these—a friendly unimpeachable witness. He +had been seeing two lads off to London—former members of his choir who +had returned to pay a visit to old friends—and he told Cartmell (he did +not speak to me, nor, I believe, to anybody but Cartmell) how he had +seen Jenny come hurriedly on to the platform; she was veiled, but her +face was easily to be distinguished, and her bearing alone would have +caused her to be recognized. She stood for a moment looking about her, +then caught sight of Octon's tall figure by the bookstall. She went +straight up to him. He turned with a start. "The man's face when he saw +her was a wonder," said Alison. They talked a little, then walked to the +train. Octon spoke to the guard and gave him money. The guard put them +into a compartment and turned the key. No sign of companion, maid, +footman, or even luggage, appertaining to Jenny! Did Miss Driver of +Breysgate Priory travel by night to London in that fashion?</p> + +<p>What he had seen others saw—both Jenny and Octon were well known in +Catsford—and others were less reticent than the Rector. When no +announcement was made of Jenny's return and none of her engagement, when +Powers vanished and Ivydene was shut up, then the stream of talk began +to flow. Fillingford was loyally silent; his silence seemed only to add +significance to the rumors. Lacey abruptly rejoined his regiment, though +he had engagements for three weeks ahead—yet another unexplained +departure! The whole town—the whole neighborhood—were agog. Human +nature being what it is, small blame to them!</p> + +<p>Of course his interview with Alison sent Cartmell flying up to me in +excitement and consternation. He had become devoted to Jenny; he was +devoted also to that fabric of influence and importance which she had +been building for herself. He was terribly upset. He had not been so far +behind the scenes as I had, or as Chat; the catastrophe came on him with +unmitigated suddenness. He had been a great partisan of the Fillingford +match; that crumbled before his eyes. But the greater blow was the +mystery of her flight with Octon.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you nothing. We must wait for a letter." It was all I could +say unless and until Jenny gave me leave to speak.</p> + +<p>That she did promptly, so far as Cartmell was concerned, thereby +enabling me to use his services in regard to Powers. A letter arrived on +Saturday morning—the flight had been on Thursday. It was a brief +letter, and a businesslike one. It showed two things: that Jenny was, +for the moment, in London—she did not say where—and that she was not +coming back. It told me to take Cartmell into my full confidence, to +tell him all I knew; neither he, nor Chat, nor I, was to say a word to +anybody else. "Announce that I am going to winter abroad, and say +nothing else—absolutely nothing—no explanations, no excuses, no +guesses. Say just what I have told you, and nothing else. Tell Chat that +I want nothing sent on. I shall get what I want. I will write at length +about business—to you or to Mr. Cartmell—as soon as I have made my +plans." Then she bade me go to Hatcham Ford, to pay off Octon's two +servants, and have the house put in charge of a caretaker. That +injunction was the only reference to Octon; of her own position, +feelings, or intentions in respect to him she made no mention whatever.</p> + +<p>Cartmell heard the letter, and the story which, in obedience to it, I +told him, without signs of very great surprise. He twisted his mouth +about and grunted over Jenny's folly and double-dealing—but to his +practical mind the present situation was the question; my story seemed +to make that more, not less, explicable. Jenny, in honor pledged to +Fillingford, found that she wanted to marry Octon; she had not dared to +tell Fillingford so; hence all the subterfuges, the secret meetings, the +catastrophe, and the flight.</p> + +<p>"In a day or two we shall get news of their marriage, no doubt. It's +very silly, and not very creditable—but it's hardly a tragedy, Austin. +Only—there goes Fillingford Manor forever! And what a master for +Breysgate!"</p> + +<p>His was as plain and reasonable a view as the situation could be fitted +into. Jenny would now marry Octon, wait till the sensation was over, and +then come back to Breysgate with her husband. Or perhaps she would not +come back to Breysgate; perhaps she would not face the neighborhood with +her record behind her—and Octon by her side, ever recalling it. She +would break up all the fabric which she had made—and start anew +somewhere else. That did not seem unlikely; a suggestion of it filled +Cartmell with fresh dismay.</p> + +<p>"A pretty thing that!" he said. "After all our tall talk about our love +for Catsford, and our Institute, and all the rest of it! How am I to +face Bindlecombe, eh? And look at the money she's put into the estate! +She'll never get that back on a sale."</p> + +<p>I found Cartmell rather comforting—at least he created a diversion in +my thoughts. His care for the externals of the position, for the +material and even the pecuniary aspects of it, was a relief to an +imagination which, all against its will, had been engrossed in the state +and the struggle of Jenny's heart—dwelling on her intentions not about +her estate and her Institute, but about herself, picturing the strong +rush of feeling which had impelled her to her flight, asking whither it +would lead or had led her—and asking doubtfully.</p> + +<p>Cartmell tapped my knee with the end of his stick. "The sooner we get +news of the marriage, the better—though bad's the best!" he said with a +solemn nod of his head.</p> + +<p>He was right—but most heartily did I echo his "Bad's the best!" Had +Jenny herself ever thought differently—at least before that fatal +night? What was she thinking now—when the night was past?</p> + +<p>Two days later a long letter reached Cartmell; he came up to me with it +directly after breakfast, when I was in my office at the Priory. A +lonely, weary great place was the house now—no life in it; Chat in bed +and probably in flutters—she had taken to both on the night of the +disaster, and clung to both; Loft's face and gait was pronouncedly +funereal. Visitors, of course, there were none. The establishment seemed +to be in quarantine.</p> + +<p>Jenny's letter was in her best style—concise, clear—and handsome. +Everything was to go on at Breysgate as though she herself were there. +Cartmell was given full control of finances—a power of attorney was to +follow from London. Chat was to stay till further orders. Nothing was to +be shut up, nobody to be dismissed. I was directed to take full charge +of the house and grounds, allotted ample funds for the expenses, and +intrusted with the care of all her correspondence. Urgent letters were +to be sent under cover to her bankers at Paris; there all communications +were to be addressed, thence all would come. Money for her own use was +to be deposited there also. Finally, the Committee was fully empowered +to proceed with the plans and preliminaries of the Institute; they were +to be credited with five thousand pounds for this purpose. I was to act +on her behalf and report progress to her from time to time. Whatever her +feelings were, her brain was active, busy, and efficient.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't look as if she meant to give up Breysgate, anyhow," said +Cartmell.</p> + +<p>"Neither does it look as if she meant to come back," said I.</p> + +<p>That, again, was like Jenny. She did not mean to come back, but neither +did she mean to let go. She elaborately provided for a long absence, but +by careful implication negatived the idea that the absence was to be +permanent. Though she was not there, her presence was to be felt. Though +she was away, she would rule through her deputies—Chat, Cartmell, the +Institute Committee, myself. She forsook Catsford, but would remain a +power there.</p> + +<p>With all this, not a word of what she herself meant to do or where she +meant to go—no explanation of the past or information about the future. +Not a word of Octon—not a word of marriage! The old signature held +still, "Jenny Driver." The silences of the letter were even more +remarkable than its contents. The whole effect was one of personal +isolation. That great local institution, Miss Driver of Breysgate, was +all to the fore. Jenny had withdrawn behind an impenetrable veil. Miss +Driver of Breysgate was benign, conciliatory, gracious, loyal to +Catsford. Jenny was enigmatic, unapologetic, defiant. Jenny slapped +while Miss Driver stroked. What would they make out of these +contradictory attitudes of the dual personality?</p> + +<p>Cartmell put his common-sense finger on the spot—on the very pulse of +Catsford and the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>"What they'll want to hear about is the marriage. Any irregularity in +her position—!" He waved his hands expressively.</p> + +<p>Graciousness and loyalty, charities continued and institutes +built—excellent in their way, but no real use if there were any +irregularity in her position! Cartmell was right—and I am far from +wishing to imply that Catsford was wrong, or that its pulse beat +otherwise than the pulse of a healthy locality should. The rules must be +kept—at any rate, homage must be paid to them. Jenny herself never +denied the obligation, whether it were to be regarded as merely social +or as something more. It is no business of mine to question it on her +behalf—and I feel no call to do it on my own account.</p> + +<p>Cartmell's words flung a doubt. Was there much positive reason for that +doubt yet? People may get married without advertising the fact. Even +although they have departed by the same train for the same place, they +may behave with propriety pending arrangements for a wedding. Jenny had +great possessions; she was not to be married out of hand, like a +beggar-girl. Settlements clamored to be made, lawyers to be consulted. +Cartmell cut across these soothing reflections of mine.</p> + +<p>"It's a funny thing that I've had no instructions about settlements. +She'd surely never marry him without settlements?"</p> + +<p>I cut my reflections adrift, it was the only line left open to me. "How +could you expect a girl to think about them in such circumstances?"</p> + +<p>"I should expect Jenny Driver to," he said.</p> + +<p>"She'd be thinking of nothing except the romance of it."</p> + +<p>"Is that the impression you get from her letter?"</p> + +<p>"There are always two sides to her mind," I urged.</p> + +<p>"One's in that letter," he said, pointing to it. "What's the other +doing, Austin?"</p> + +<p>To ask that question was, as things stood, to cry to an oracle which was +dumb. Miss Driver of Breysgate spoke—but Jenny was obstinately mute. +Before many days were out, Catsford became one colossal "Why?" It must +have been by a supreme effort, by a heartrending sacrifice to +traditional decorum, that the editor of the <i>Herald and Times</i> refrained +from writing articles or "opening our columns to a correspondence" on +the subject.</p> + +<p>At last there came a word about herself—to me and to me only. It was +contained in the last communication I received from her before she left +London; she spoke of herself as being "just off." The letter dealt with +nothing more important than the treatment of a pet spaniel which had +been ailing at the time of her flight. But there was a postscript, +squeezed in at the foot of the page; the ink was paler than in the +letter itself. It looked as though the postscript had been added by an +afterthought—perhaps after hesitation—and blotted immediately. "I +still hold my precarious liberty."</p> + +<p>The one sentence answered one question—she was not married. There were +things which it left unanswered; her present position and her intentions +for the future lay still in doubt. She held her liberty, but the liberty +was precarious. Here was no material for a reassuring public +announcement; even if I had not been sure that the postscript was meant +for me alone—and of that I was sure—I could only have held my tongue; +it was charged with so fatal an ambiguity, it left so much in the dark. +Yet in its way it was to me full of meaning, most characteristic, most +illuminating—and it fitted in with the picture which my own imagination +had drawn. Out of a tangle of hesitations and doubts she had plunged +into her wild adventure. How far it had carried her it was not possible +to say; but here were the hesitations and doubts back again. After the +impulsive fervor of feeling had had its way with her, the cool and +cautious brain was awake again—awake and struggling. The issue was +doubtful; the liberty to which her mind clung was "precarious"—menaced +and assailed by a potent influence. Past experience made it easy to +appreciate the state in which she was—her wishes on one side, her fears +on the other—her strong inclination to Octon against her obstinate +independence, her feelings crying for surrender, her mental instinct +urging that she should still keep the line of retreat open.</p> + +<p>But was it still open in any effective sense? As regards her position, +so far as the opinion of the world—of her world—went, every day barred +it more and more. She must know that; she must realize how her silence +would be interpreted, how no news about her would be confidently +reckoned the worst of news. For Octon she had sacrificed so much that +there was nothing for it but to give him all—to give him even her +liberty, if marriage with him meant the loss of it. There was no other +possible conclusion if she would look at the matter as others looked at +it, if she would use the eyes and ears of Catsford, and see what they +made of her situation. But perhaps she was no readier to surrender +herself to them than to Octon himself. She might answer that in her own +soul she would still be free, though her freedom were bought at a great +price, though in the eyes of the world she had forfeited her right to +it.</p> + +<p>My memory harked back to a conversation which I had once held with +Alison. A mind that thought for itself in worldly matters, I had +suggested to him, would very likely think for itself in moral or +religious ones, too—and such thought was apt to issue in suspending +general obligations in a man's own case. I had hazarded the opinion that +Miss Driver would be capable of suspending a general obligation in her +own case—as the result of careful thought about it—as an exercise of +power, to repeat the phrase I had used. If that were her disposition +now—if what I had foreshadowed as a possibility had become a +fact—would Octon save her from the results of it? He was the last man +in the world to do that. Skeptic in mind and rebel in temper, he would +not insist on obedience to obligations in whose sanction he did not +believe, nor be urgent in counseling outward conformity with conventions +which he disliked and took a positive pleasure in scorning. On the other +hand, he would not be swayed by a vulgar self-interest; he would be too +proud to seek to bind her to him that he might thus bind her money also. +If she said "I will remain free," he would acquiesce and might even +applaud. If she said "I will be free and yet with you," it was not +likely that he would offer any strong opposition.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile she stood where people who arrogate to themselves the liberty +of defying the law cannot reasonably complain of standing—in the dock. +That is the fair cost of the freedom they claim. Jenny was arraigned at +the bar of the public opinion of her neighbors; unless she could and +would clear herself of suspicion, there was not much doubt how the +verdict would go. The first overt step in the proceedings took place +under my own eyes.</p> + +<p>Cartmell had apprised Bindlecombe of Jenny's wish that the work of the +Institute should proceed in her absence, and of her financial +arrangements to this end. Bindlecombe, as Chairman, convened a meeting +of the Committee. Cartmell was out of town that day and did not attend, +but I went to represent Jenny's side of the affair. Fillingford and +Alison were talking together in low voices when I came in. Fillingford +greeted me with his usual reserved courtesy, Alison with even more than +his wonted kindness. Bindlecombe was visibly nervous and perturbed as he +read to us Cartmell's letter. When he had finished it, he looked across +the table to Alison and said, "I understand that you have something to +say, Mr. Alison?"</p> + +<p>"What I have to say, sir, is soon said," Alison answered. He spoke low +and very gravely, like a man who discharges an imperative but +distasteful task. "The Institute is very closely connected with the +personality of the liberal—the very liberal—donor. In my opinion—and +I believe that I am very far from being alone in the opinion—it is +inexpedient to proceed with the work until we can feel sure of being +able to enjoy Miss Driver's personal cooperation. I move that, while +thanking Miss Driver for the offer contained in the letter we have just +heard, we express to her our opinion in that sense." He had not looked +at any of us, but had kept his eyes lowered as he spoke.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause. Then Fillingford said, "I agree, and I +second the motion." His voice was entirely impassive. "I don't think it +is necessary for me to add anything."</p> + +<p>Bindlecombe turned to me with an air of inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I can take no part in this," I said. "It is simply for me to hear the +decision of the Committee and to communicate it to Miss Driver in due +course."</p> + +<p>Bindlecombe clasped his hands nervously; he was acutely distressed—and +not only for the threatened loss of his darling Institute. He knew how +Jenny would read the resolution, and Jenny had been his idol.</p> + +<p>"Is—is this really necessary?" he ventured to ask, though Alison's sad +gravity and Fillingford's cold resoluteness evidently overawed him. +"Perhaps some of the preliminary work could——?"</p> + +<p>Alison interposed; "I fear I must ask that my resolution be put as it +stands."</p> + +<p>Fillingford nodded, drumming lightly on the table with his fingers. +Evidently they had made up their minds; if the resolution were not +passed, they would secede. That would be worse than the resolution +itself, and would make progress just as impossible.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll put it," said Bindlecombe reluctantly. "No gentleman desires +to say any more?"</p> + +<p>No more was said. The resolution was carried, I, of course, not voting.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose that we adjourn—<i>sine die</i>?" said Bindlecombe.</p> + +<p>That followed as of course, and we all three assented. Bindlecombe rose +from the chair. There, for the present at all events, was an end of the +Institute, there Jenny's first public and official rebuff. Catsford +would have to be told what had been decided, why no more was done about +the Institute. I had no doubt that Alison had thought of this and had +worded his resolution with a view to its publication.</p> + +<p>Fillingford and Alison went out of the room together, and I was left +with Bindlecombe. (We had met at his house, Ivydene being shut up.) "I'm +very sorry for this, Mr. Austin," he said.</p> + +<p>I was very sorry, too. The decision would not be a grateful one to +Jenny. It was an intimation that her idea of keeping her hold on +Catsford, even while she defied it, would not work; the dual personality +of munificent Miss Driver of Breysgate and wayward Jenny Driver—of +where?—would not find acceptance.</p> + +<p>"A winter abroad is not eternity, Mr. Bindlecombe," said I, smiling. "We +shall be busy at the Institute again by the spring, I hope." That, of +course, was speaking to my cue—Jenny's official version of her +departure; she was wintering abroad—that was all.</p> + +<p>"I hope so, I hope so," he said, but he hardly pretended that he was +imposed upon. He shook his head dolefully and looked at me with a gloomy +significance. "The Rector's a hard fellow to deal with. Pleasant as can +be, but hard as a brick on—well, where his own views come in. He's not +a man of the world, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>Evidently in Bindlecombe's opinion a man of the world would have stuck +to the Institute, even if he could not stick to its donor—stuck to the +Institute and carved <i>Non Olet</i> on its handsome façade; it would have +been in no worse case than many imposing public buildings—to say +nothing of luxurious private residences. But Alison was not a man of the +world—and in this instance the current of opinion was with him. The two +worlds joined in condemning Jenny; neither as an individual nor as a +local institution could she be defended. A lurking loyalty in +Bindlecombe—if I mistook not, a reluctant admiration in Lacey—were the +only exceptions to the general verdict—outside her own retainers. I do +not think that we asked ourselves questions about approval or +disapproval, condemnation or condonation. We were not judges; we were, +in one way, in the fight.</p> + +<p>To my surprise Alison was waiting outside the house. When I came out, he +approached me.</p> + +<p>"Austin, I want you to shake hands with me," he said. "I had to do that, +you know. You don't suppose I liked doing it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll shake hands," I said. "I'm not particular. But I don't feel called +upon to have any opinion as to whether you're right, nor as to whether +you liked doing it or not."</p> + +<p>"That last bit's unfair, anyhow," he declared indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Fair and unfair! Man, man, do you suppose I'm worrying about things +like that?"</p> + +<p>I had lost control for a moment. He was not angry with me; he seemed to +understand, and patted my shoulder affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Of course I know you didn't like doing it," I growled. "But does that +make things any better?"</p> + +<p>"Tell her I didn't like doing it," he said. "If only she understood why +I had to do it!"</p> + +<p>Well, from neither of the worlds can defiance look for mercy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>NOT PROVEN</h3> + + +<p>In the stern condemnation of moral delinquencies, when such are +discovered or conjectured, we may be content to find nothing but what is +praiseworthy; the simultaneous exhibition of a hungry curiosity about +them is one of those features of human nature which it is best to accept +without comment—if only for the reason that no man can be sure that he +does not in some degree share it. In Catsford at this time it was +decidedly prominent. The place went wild on the news that Sir John +Aspenick, happening to be in Paris on a flying visit, thought that he +saw Jenny go by as he stood outside the Café de la Paix: great was the +disappointment that Sir John could not contrive even to think that he +had seen Octon with her! Lady Sarah Lacey, working on the feminine clew +of Jenny's having departed luggageless, set inquiries afoot among London +dressmakers, with the happy result of revealing the fact that Jenny had +bought a stock of several articles of wearing apparel: the news worked +back to Chat from one of the dressmakers, and from Chat I had it, with +more details of the wearing apparel that my memory carries. Mrs. Jepps +waylaid Chat—who had timidly ventured into the town under a pressing +need of finding some very special form of needle—in the main street and +tried the comparative method, not at all a bad mode of investigation +where manners forbid direct questions. She told Chat numbers of stories +of other "sad cases" and looked to see how Chat "took" them—hoping to +draw, augur-like, conclusions from Chat's expression. I myself—well, I +would not be uncharitable. My friends were all honorable men; they might +naturally conclude that I was depressed and lonely; why look farther for +the cause of the frequent visits from them which I enjoyed? Bindlecombe +and a dozen more so honored me, and Cartmell told me that only the +severest office discipline kept his working hours sacred from kind +intruders.</p> + +<p>Moreover, a little problem arose, not in itself serious, but showing the +extreme inconvenience which results when people who are in a position to +confer pleasant favors so act as to make it doubtful whether favors can +properly be accepted from them. Such a state of affairs puts an unfair +strain on virtue, inconsiderately demanding martyrdom where +righteousness only has been volunteered. As may have been gathered, +Jenny's neighbors were in the habit of using the road through her park +as an alternative route to the high road in their comings and goings to +and from Catsford. For some it was shorter—as for the Wares, the +Dormers, and the Aspenicks; for all it was pleasanter. What was to be +done about this now? Fillingford had no doubt; neither he nor Lady Sarah +used the park road any more; but then the road was no great saving of +distance for the folks at the Manor—their martyrdom was easy—whereas +it was very materially shorter for the Wares, the Dormers, and, above +all, for the Aspenicks. The question was so acute for the Aspenicks that +I heard of Lady Aspenick's collecting opinions on the subject from +persons of light and leading. She did not consider Fillingford's course +impartial—nor decisive of the question; it was easy for him to take the +virtuous line; it did not involve his going pretty nearly two miles out +of his way.</p> + +<p>Discussion ran high on the question. Mrs. Jepps declared against using +the road, though her fat pair of horses had been accustomed to get what +little exercise they ever did get along it three afternoons a week.</p> + +<p>"If I use the road, and she comes back and finds me using it, where am +I?" asked Mrs. Jepps. "I can't cut her when I'm driving in her park by +her permission. Yet I may feel obliged to refuse to bow to her!"</p> + +<p>The attitude had all Mrs. Jepps's logic in it; it was unassailable. Very +reluctantly old Mr. and Mrs. Dormer gave in to it—they would go round +by the King's highway, longer though it was. Bertram Ware, lawyer and +politician, stole round the difficulty—and along the park road—by +adopting a provisional attitude; until more was known, he felt justified +in using—and in allowing Mrs. Ware to use—the road. He reserved +liberty of action if more facts condemnatory of Jenny should appear.</p> + +<p>The Aspenicks remained—to whom the road was more precious than to any +of the others. Sir John would have none of Ware's provisional +attitude—it was not what he called "straight"; but then he had a +prejudice against lawyers, and held no particularly high opinion of +Bertram Ware.</p> + +<p>"Make up your mind," he said to his wife. "Either we use it or we don't. +But if we use it, it's taking a favor from her, and that may be awkward +later on."</p> + +<p>Now Lady Aspenick wanted to use the road very much indeed—and not +merely the road for her tandem, so sadly famous in history, but also the +turf alongside it for her canters. But in the first place Lady Aspenick +was herself a model of propriety, and in the second—it was an even +weightier consideration—she had a growing girl; Eunice Aspenick was now +nearly sixteen—and rode with her mother. Supposing Lady Aspenick and +Eunice used the road, supposing Jenny were guilty of enormities, came +back guilty of them, and discovered Lady Aspenick, with Eunice, on the +road! Lady Aspenick's problem was worse than Mrs. Jepps's—because of +Eunice on the one hand, and of Lady Aspenick's remarkably strong desire +to use the road on the other.</p> + +<p>This question of the road—work on the Institute at a standstill—no +more parties at Breysgate (what of the Flower Show next summer?)! Verily +Jenny was causing endless inconvenience!</p> + +<p>It would not be just to say that this difficulty about the road—and +Eunice—determined Lady Aspenick's attitude toward Jenny; it is perhaps +permissible to conjecture that it led her to reconsider it. After the +lapse of a fortnight she came out on Jenny's side, and signified the +same by calling on Chat at Breysgate Priory. Chat and I sometimes +consoled one another's loneliness at afternoon tea; I was present when +Lady Aspenick arrived.</p> + +<p>We had our lesson pat—so long as we were not cross-examined. Jenny was +wintering abroad; Chat's health (this was our own supplement) had made +traveling inadvisable for her, and Jenny had found other companions. +Lady Aspenick was most affable to the story; she admitted it to belief +at once. Sympathy with Chat, pleasure at not being deprived of Chat's +society, kind messages through Chat to Jenny—all came as easily and +naturally as possible. Not an awkward question! It was with real +gratitude that I conducted Lady Aspenick to her carriage. But she had a +word for me there.</p> + +<p>"I didn't want to talk about it to that poor old thing," she said, "but +have you any—news, Mr. Austin?"</p> + +<p>"None, except what I've told you. She isn't a great letter-writer."</p> + +<p>"They're saying horrid things. Well, Sarah Lacey would, of course. I +can't see any reason for believing them. I'm on her side! One may wonder +at her taste—one must—but she has a right to please herself, and to +take her own time about it. Of course that night journey—!" Lady +Aspenick smiled in a deprecating manner.</p> + +<p>"Impulsive!" I observed.</p> + +<p>Lady Aspenick caught at the word joyfully. "That's it—impulsive! That's +what I've always said. Dear Jenny is impulsive—that's all!" She got +into her carriage and ordered the coachman to drive her to Mrs. Jepps's. +She was going to tell Mrs. Jepps that Jenny was impulsive—going by the +road through the park to tell Mrs. Jepps that it was no more than that.</p> + +<p>Her own line taken, Lady Aspenick gathered a tiny faction to raise +Jenny's banner. They could not do much against Lady Sarah's open +viciousness, Fillingford's icy silence, the union of High Church and Low +in the persons and the adherents of Alison and of Mrs. Jepps. But Sir +John followed his wife, Bindlecombe took courage to uplift a friendly +voice, and old Mr. Dormer began to waver. His memories went back to +George IV.—days in which they were not hard on pretty women—having, +indeed, remarkably little right to be. Mr. Dormer was reported to be +inclined to think that the men of the surrounding families might ride in +Jenny's park—about their ladies it was, perhaps, another question. It +was understood that Lady Aspenick's faction gave great offense at +Fillingford Manor. The alliance between the two houses had been close, +and Fillingford Manor saw treachery to itself in any defense of Jenny.</p> + +<p>So they debated and gossiped, sparred and wrangled—and no more news +came. At the Priory we began to settle down into a sort of routine, +trying to find ourselves work to do, trying to fill the lives that +seemed now so empty. Our position—like Bertram Ware's attitude about +the park road—was provisional—hopelessly provisional. We were not +living; we were only waiting. Not the actual events of to-day, but the +possible event of to-morrow was the thing for which we existed. It was +like listening perpetually for a knock on the door. Little could be made +of a life like that. Well, we were not to sink into the dullness of our +routine just yet.</p> + +<p>In my youth I have heard a sage preach to the young men, his hearers and +critical disciples, on the text of the certainty of life; discarding, +perhaps thinking trite, perhaps deeming misleading, the old <i>Memento +mori</i>. He bade them recollect that for practical purposes they had to +reckon on—and with—thirty, forty, fifty, years of life and activity. +That was a long time—order the many days! You could not afford to +calculate on the accident of an early death to end your responsibility. +It was well said; yet not even the broadest sanest argument can +altogether persuade Death out of his traditional rôle, nor induce +Atropos to wield her shears always without caprice. Yet again, in this +case there seemed little caprice; the likely ending came rather +quickly—that was all; it was just such an ending as, in some form or +other, might have been expected—just such as once, in talk with me, the +man himself had, hardly gravely yet quite sincerely, treated as likely, +almost as inevitable.</p> + +<p>I was the first to get the news—at breakfast time one November morning. +A telegram came to me from Jenny; it was sent from Tours. "Leonard has +died from wound received in a duel. Do not come to me. I want to be +alone.—<span class="smcap">Jenny Driver</span>."</p> + +<p>He had insulted somebody—in a country where men still fought on the +point of honor. The conclusion sprang forward on a glance. He had passed +much time abroad, I knew—the code was not strange to him, nor the use +of his weapons. Though both had been strange, little would he have +shunned the fight! He would take joy in it—joy in shedding the +advantage of his mighty strength, glad to meet his man on even terms, +eagerly accepting the leveling power of a bullet. He had made himself +intolerable again; some one had uprisen and done away with the incubus +of him. The whole affair seemed just what might be looked for; he had +died fighting—for him a natural death.</p> + +<p>So the life was out of the big man—and he had been so full of it. That +was strange to think of.</p> + +<p>Somehow he seemed incompatible with death. I remember drawing a long +breath as I said to myself "Dead!" and thought grewsomely of the +carrying out of that great coffin—with all the mighty weight of him +inside; even dead he would oppress men by size, insolently crushing +their shoulders with his bulk. "Part of the objection to me is because +I'm so large," he had said. Even the undertaker's men would share in +that objection. "I shall certainly be stamped out. Ah, well, small +wonder—and what a pity!"</p> + +<p>He had a power over me; something of his force had reached me, too—or +my thoughts would not have dwelt on him so long; they would have turned +sooner to Jenny. To what end? Her message forbade the one thing which it +was in my mind to do—go to her directly. She would not have it; she +would be—as she was—alone. I had no thought of disobedience—only a +great sorrow that I must obey. I read the telegram again. "Jenny +Driver!" She had hesitated too long. Ways could not be kept open +forever. Mr. Powers had taught her this truth once, and she had not +hearkened. Death himself came to enforce the lesson. She stood no longer +between the fascination that she loved and feared and the independence +which she cherished and yet wearied of. She was free perforce; the +tenure of her liberty was no longer precarious; and the joy of her heart +was dead. Her equipoise—another of her delicate balancings—was +hopelessly upset; when Death flung his weight into one of her scales, +the other kicked the beam.</p> + +<p>So long as I was alone, it did not occur to me to think of the bearings +of the event—and of its announcement—on her outward fortunes. My mind +was with herself—asking how she faced the thing, in what mood it left +her; nay, going back to the days before it, viewing them in the alien +light of their sudden end. Not what would be said or thought, but what +was, engrossed my meditation. Death brings that color to the mind; it +takes us "beyond these voices." But they who live must soon return +within hearing.</p> + +<p>I did not hear Cartmell come in—I had been out before breakfast, and I +believe I had left my door ajar. His hand was on my shoulder before I +was aware of his presence. He held a morning paper in his hand, but he +did not show it to me directly. He looked down in my face as I sat in my +arm-chair and then said, "You've heard, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, giving him Jenny's telegram.</p> + +<p>He read it. "This must be between you and me, Austin. So far, there's +nothing in the paper to show that she was there—to show who the woman +was, I mean."</p> + +<p>"The woman?"</p> + +<p>"The woman mentioned in the paper. Read it." He pushed it into my hand. +His practical mind did not waste itself in memories or speculation; it +flew to the present need. I had lost myself in wonderings about the man +and the woman; he was concerned solely with our local institution—Miss +Driver of Breysgate. He was right.</p> + +<p>The telegram in the paper came from Reuter's news agency. "A quarrel in +the Café de l'Univers last night resulted in a duel this morning, in +which an Englishman named Octon was mortally wounded at the first fire. +He subsequently expired at the house of a lady, understood to be Mrs. +Octon, in the Rue Balzac, to which he had been carried at his own +request."</p> + +<p>Beneath was a short paragraph stating that it was conjectured that the +"deceased gentleman" was "Mr. Leonard Octon, the well-known traveler and +entomologist." On inquiry at his publishers', those gentlemen had stated +that Mr. Octon was, to their knowledge, traveling in France.</p> + +<p>"Not much harm done if it stops there," said Cartmell, thoughtfully +rubbing his hands together.</p> + +<p>"How can it? There'll have to be an inquest—or something corresponding +to it, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"She's very clever."</p> + +<p>"Will she care about being clever?" I asked, studying the paragraph +again. "Understood to be Mrs. Octon" had a smack of Jenny's own +ambiguity and elusiveness. And it hardly sounded as though the house to +which he had been carried at his own request were the house where he +himself had been lodging.</p> + +<p>"Of course it'll be all over Catsford in an hour. There's no helping +that. But, as I say, there's no particular harm done yet."</p> + +<p>"They'll guess, won't they?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they will; but there's all the difference between guessing +and having it in print. We must wait. I've got to go out of town—and +I'm glad of it."</p> + +<p>I did not go away, but I hid myself. The only person I saw that day was +Chat: she was entitled to the news.</p> + +<p>Telling her was sad work; her devotion to Octon rose up against her +accusingly. She railed at herself for all her dealings with Jenny; +old-time delinquencies in duty at the Simpsons' dressed themselves in +the guise of great crimes; she had been a guilty party to Jenny's +misdemeanors; they had led to this.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to render an account for it," said poor Chat, rocking her +body to and fro, as was her habit in moments of agitation: her speech +was obviously reminiscent of church services. "If I had done my duty by +her, this would never have happened." I am afraid that "this" meant the +scandal, rather than any conduct which gave rise to it. But if Chat were +going to be so aggressively penitent as this, the case was lost.</p> + +<p>"We must hope for the best—and, anyhow, put the best face on it," I +urged.</p> + +<p>Chat cheered up a little. "Dear Jenny is very resourceful." Cartmell had +observed that she was clever. I was waiting with a vague expectancy for +some move from her, some turn or twist in her favor. We had not lost +faith in her, any of us; the faith had become blind—if you will, +instinctive—surviving even the Waterloo of her flight and this +calamitous tragedy.</p> + +<p>Were we wrong? Only the future could show that; but the next day brought +us some encouragement. There was a fuller paragraph, confirming the +conjectured identification of Octon, giving a notice of his work, and +the name of his opponent in the duel—an officer belonging to an old +family distinguished for its orthodox Catholic opinions. "The quarrel is +said to have originated in a discussion of religious differences." That +sounded quite likely, and relieved the fear that it might have sprung +from a more compromising origin. Then came—well, something very like an +apology for that phrase about the lady "understood to be Mrs. Octon." +The lady was not, it now appeared, Mrs. Octon; she was "a Miss Driver" +(<i>A</i> Miss Driver—that would sound odd to Catsford!) to whom the +deceased gentleman was engaged to be married. This Miss Driver had taken +a house in the Rue Balzac, where she was residing with another lady, her +friend: the deceased gentleman had recently arrived at the Hôtel de +l'Univers; notice of their intended marriage had been given at the +British Consulate three days before the fatal occurrence. A few days +more would have seen them man and wife. "Much sympathy is felt for the +lady under the very painful circumstances of the case. It is understood +that she will leave Tours immediately after the funeral."</p> + +<p>It would hardly be doing Cartmell a wrong to describe him as gleeful; +the statement was so much less damaging than might have been expected. +To the world at large it was, indeed, not damaging at all; it rather +appealed to sympathy and invested Jenny with a pathetic interest. In +Catsford the case was different: there was the flight, the silence, the +interval. But even for Catsford we had a case—and the difference +between even a bad case and no case at all is, in matters like this, +enormous.</p> + +<p>What was the truth of it? It was not possible to believe that the notice +to the Consulate was a mere maneuver, a pretense, and a sham. She was +neither so cold-blooded nor so foolish as that—and Octon would have +ridiculed such a sham out of existence. The notice to the Consulate +showed that her long hesitation had at last ended—possibly on Octon's +entreaties, though I continued to doubt that—possibly for conscience' +sake, possibly from regard for the world's opinion. She had made up her +mind to let go her "precarious liberty." But for this stroke of fate she +would have become Octon's wife.</p> + +<p>How did the stroke of fate leave her? Or, rather, leave her fame? Of +herself I knew nothing—save that she would be alone. She loved an +equipoise. Her fame was balanced in one now. Fillingford and Lady Sarah, +Mrs. Jepps and Alison, would think still what they had thought; probably +the bulk of opinion would be with them. But we had a case. We could +brazen it out. Bertram Ware could still be provisional, Lady Aspenick +could use the road through the park—even Eunice might ride with her; +and old Mr. Dormer would scarcely strain the proprieties to breaking +point if he permitted himself to be accompanied by his wife. The verdict +could be "Not Proven."</p> + +<p>A week later the French authorities forwarded to me a letter from +Octon—found on his table at the hotel and written the evening before +the meeting:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Austin</span>—I have to fight a fellow to-morrow—a very +decent fellow—on the ostensible ground of my having spoken +disrespectfully of the Pope, which naturally is not at all the +real cause of quarrel. I rather think I shall be killed—first, +for the sensible reason that he is angry (I hit him. 'Of course +you did,' I hear you say) and a good shot; secondly, because +she has at last elected to settle things and that offers a +temptation to chance—not such a sensible reason—indeed an +utterly nonsensical one, which accordingly entirely convinces +me. I leave her to you. Don't try to marry her—it only worries +her—but serve her well, and as you serve her, so may God +Almighty, in whom I believe though you think I don't, serve +you. You couldn't spend your life (you're not a great man, you +know) to better account. How I have spent mine doesn't matter. +I have on the credit side of the balance the discovery of five +new insects. It is to be hoped that this will not be +overlooked.—Yours,</p> + +<p>"L. O."</p></blockquote> + +<p>New insects—five! Private faults—how many? What is the Table of +Weights? That must be known, to strike the balance of Leonard Octon's +life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>ONE OF TWO LEGACIES</h3> + + +<p>The clouds settled down over Jenny; a veil of silence obscured her. +Business letters were still exchanged through the bankers at Paris, but +hers bore no postmarks; they must have arrived in Paris under cover; +they came under cover to Breysgate, and thus gave no indication of her +whereabouts. She was in constant communication with Cartmell about her +affairs; to me she wrote much seldomer and only on necessity; to Chat +she never wrote at all. To none of us, I believe, did she say a word +about what had happened—and she certainly said no word to Catsford. Nor +did we; her orders stood—no excuses, no explanations, no guesses. Thus +starved of food, Catsford's interest at last languished; they did not +forget Jenny, but talk about her catastrophe and Octon's death died +down. Nobody having anything fresh to tell or any guess to make that had +not been made already, the topic grew stale.</p> + +<p>The long wait began—it was a wait to me, for I knew that she meant to +come back in the end—and lasted for nearly three years. I employed an +ample leisure in writing my essay on "The Future of Religious and +Ethical Thought." It brought me some credit in the outside world—or +rather the small part of it that cares for such speculations; but +indifference was the best I hoped from Catsford—and I did not +altogether achieve that. Friendship sometimes gives a writer what I may +term unnatural readers—and not with the happiest results. Alison +continued to be kind and cordial to me, but he would not talk about my +book. Mrs. Jepps—what business had she with such a book at all?—shook +her head over it, and over me, very solemnly, and, as I heard, was not +slow to trace a connection between Jenny's acts and my opinions. I did +the local reputation of Breysgate no good by that book, though its +reception in the Press flattered my vanity considerably.</p> + +<p>More important things happened in the neighborhood—for three years make +differences in a little society. Old Mr. Dormer died, carrying off with +him into the inaudible much agreeable anecdote; his cousin, a young man +of thirty, reigned at Kingston in his stead. Bertram Ware was no longer +M.P.; the domestic dissensions, in which Jenny had once seen an +opportunity for herself, had ended in his retiring at the General +Election; he was said to be sulky, and to be talking of selling his +place and going away. Lacey, his majority just attained, had been put +forward in his stead, and elected after a stiff fight with an eloquent +stranger from London—(Bindlecombe reserved himself till Catsford should +be given a borough member!)—I did not follow closely Lacey's doings—or +anybody's—at Westminster, but he was assiduous in his social duties in +the constituency. There was no change at Fillingford Manor, save that +its master looked more definitely middle-aged, and its mistress riveted +on our necks the power which Jenny's rise had threatened. Finally, Lady +Aspenick's growing girl had grown, had "come out," and was a personage +in our society. She was a rather pretty, tall, fair girl, great at all +outdoor pursuits. The gossips had already begun to say that she would +make a capital bride for Lacey—if only there were more money! The +little cloud which had arisen between the two households over Jenny had +naturally passed away, when absence and silence removed Jenny from the +arena of discussion. None the less Lady Aspenick still used our +road—and still Fillingford Manor did not.</p> + +<p>Such was the petty chronicle. The Institute found no place in it. There +nothing was done; even Bindlecombe seemed no longer sanguine. Hatcham +Ford, with its windows shuttered and its gravel-path grass-grown, +witnessed to a project apparently still-born, no less than it recalled +the catastrophe of that last night. When I passed by, I could not help +expecting to see Octon's great figure come out and slouch across the +road—to smoke a pipe with Mr. Powers! He did not come, and a most +respectable insurance agent now dwelt where Mr. Powers had played his +unedifying game. Nor was the Flower Show any longer part of our +Breysgate programme. Cartmell had offered the grounds, but the Committee +preferred to accept a proposal from Fillingford. For the last two years +it had been held at the Manor, and was to be held there again this +year—this the third summer since Jenny left us.</p> + +<p>Then she came back. Her return was as sudden and as unannounced as her +departure, but otherwise marked by considerably more decorum.</p> + +<p>I was writing one morning after lunch, and had wandered to the window, +to seek from the empty air an improbable inspiration. Suddenly I saw the +unparalleled spectacle of Loft running. Loft running! I had never +associated him with running, and should about as soon have expected to +see St. Paul's Cathedral dancing a fling down Ludgate Hill. But there he +came, down the path from the Priory. As soon as he got near me, he +shouted excitedly, "She's come back, sir, she's come back!" Then he came +to a stand outside the window, and recovered his professional demeanor +at the cost of some confusion. "I beg your pardon, sir, but Miss Driver +orders me to tell you that she has just returned, and will be glad to +see you in half an hour."</p> + +<p>"When did she come?"</p> + +<p>"Just in, sir—the 2.45 from London, it must be."</p> + +<p>"How does she look?"</p> + +<p>"Much the same as usual, sir—a little thinner in the face perhaps."</p> + +<p>I looked at Loft; he was grinning. So, I suppose, was I. "This is good, +Loft."</p> + +<p>"You may say that, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Did she come alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Her maid—a Frenchwoman, I think, sir—and a young lady. If +she'd brought twenty, she'd have found the house all ready for them."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she would. Tell her I'll come up in half an hour."</p> + +<p>Her coming transformed everything for me; it seemed to put life into the +place, life into the big dull house on the hill, life into my little +den, life into that summer's day. It was the breaking of a long frost, +the awakening from a stupor. The coming that I had always believed in +began to seem incredible only now, when it had happened; incredible it +seemed that by just walking up the hill I could see Jenny again and hear +her voice. Absence and silence had rendered her so distant to sight or +sound, so intangible and remote. My last clear memory of her was still +at Hatcham Ford—as she asked Fillingford for the loan of his carriage, +and, with "God bless you, Austin," vanished into the night. A man can, I +suppose, get on without anyone, if he must; but he cannot always make +out how he has managed to do it.</p> + +<p>I found her sitting in her old place in the big drawing-room; she +wore—whether by purpose or not what was in effect slight mourning, a +white summer frock with touches of black. Yes, her face was a little +thinner, but it had not lost its serenity. She was less a girl, more a +woman—but not a woman prematurely aged.</p> + +<p>"Dear Austin!" she said, as I kissed the hand she held out to me. +"You've waited a long while—here I am at last! You've become famous in +the interval—yes, you have. I've seen your book, and I wish Leonard +could have read it. He'd have liked it. But though you're famous, still +you waited for me!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you expected me to do anything else."</p> + +<p>She smiled at me. "Perhaps not. But, do you know, I'm afraid you've done +something else than grow famous. Have you grown into an old bachelor? +You look rather like it."</p> + +<p>"I expect I have," said I ruefully, and with an anxious gaze at my coat. +"It's rather an old coat, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"And the knees of your trousers!" pursued Jenny remorselessly.</p> + +<p>They were atrocious—there was no denying it. "There's been nobody to +dress for. I'll order a new suit to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Things begin to move directly I come back, don't they? Is there any +news in the neighborhood?"</p> + +<p>I told her my little budget, sketching it in as lightly as I could and +with as little reference to herself. She fastened on the news about +Eunice Aspenick.</p> + +<p>"Grown up, of course, by now, isn't she? And you say she's pretty. Very +pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Not so very, in my judgment. Very fresh and healthy, and rather +handsome."</p> + +<p>Jenny smiled mysteriously. "Oh, that doesn't matter—if it comes to no +more than that," she said contemptuously. She saw me smiling. "Oh, yes, +I'm scheming again!" she declared with a laugh. "Not for myself, though. +I've done with schemes about myself."</p> + +<p>"At five-and-twenty?"</p> + +<p>Jenny grew grave. "Things count, not years—or, anyhow, sooner than +years. Have I any friends left?"</p> + +<p>She smiled again when I told her of Lady Aspenick's faction, and how +Lady Aspenick still used the road. "Come, that's not so bad," was her +comment, rather playfully than seriously given. "And you ask me no +questions?" she said the next moment, rather abruptly.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't want to ask you any questions. I was very much grieved for +him."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "When I went away with him," she said, "I burned my boats. I +wanted them burned, Austin. I was so sick of doubts—and of tricks and +maneuvers. Recklessness seemed fine; and everything seemed to have gone +out of the world—except me and him. There was some business to be done +and I did it—with the surface of my mind; it made no real part of my +thoughts. There I was all hatred for what I had been doing—yes, and +horrible hatred of having been found out—I'd better be frank about +that. I'd been tricking—I wanted to defy. Leonard didn't mind defying +either, did he? That lasted a week—ten days, perhaps. Then the old +thing came back—the fear of him, the fear of it. I couldn't help +it—it's so deep in my blood, Austin. He told me I ought to marry him +for my own sake—for his own he was indifferent. I think he really was. +I was terribly afraid but, as you must know from the papers, I agreed, +and everything was in train when—he died. That was my fault partly—but +only partly. The young man did—make a mistake about me—but he +apologized most humbly and courteously. But Leonard wouldn't take it +properly, and picked a quarrel with him the next evening."</p> + +<p>"Then it doesn't seem to have been your fault."</p> + +<p>"My being—vulnerable—made Leonard more, even more, than usually +aggressive. That's all. They brought him back to me dying. He lived only +about half an hour. We were curiously happy in that half hour—but it +was terrible afterwards." She fell into silence, her eyes very +sorrowful. Then she turned to me, with a gesture of her hands. "That's +all the story—and it's for you alone—because you're Austin."</p> + +<p>I took her hand for a moment and pressed it. "For me alone—I thank +you."</p> + +<p>"A thing like that seems to sweep across life like a hurricane, doesn't +it? Leveling everything, destroying such a lot!"</p> + +<p>"You've come back to build it all up again."</p> + +<p>She smiled for a moment. "So you've found that out? But I can't build it +all up. Some things I shall never try to build again. The track of the +hurricane will always be left."</p> + +<p>"Time, time, time!" said I.</p> + +<p>"Not even time. Life's not over—but it's life with a difference. I +don't complain. I accept that readily. I almost welcome it. I may cheat +the world, but I won't cheat myself. I'm not at my old trick of having +it both ways for myself, Austin."</p> + +<p>She was determined to see clearly herself, but admitted no obligation to +allow outsiders a view. She would not minimize the thing for herself, +but was quite ready to induce the rest of the world to ignore it. It was +her affair. To her the difference was made, over her life the hurricane +had swept.</p> + +<p>"I have no kith or kin; nobody is bound to me. The love of my friends is +free—free to withhold, free to give. I did it for myself, open-eyed. +There is nobody who has a right to harbor it against me."</p> + +<p>And she meant that there never should be? It sounded like that.</p> + +<p>"As a private offense against him, or her, I mean—as a personal +offense. Of course they've a right to their opinions—and with their +opinions I expect I should agree."</p> + +<p>She would agree with the opinions, but did not feel bound to furnish +material for them. She could hardly be blamed there. The candle and the +white sheet—in open congregation—have fallen into such general disuse +that Jenny could not be asked to revive them. So far she might be +excused—people do not expect confessions. But she seemed to underrate +what she termed "opinions" even though, as opinions, she thought that +she would agree with them. On this subject neither Alison nor Mrs. Jepps +would talk of "opinions"; they would use other words. When she said that +there was nobody who had a right to harbor the affair against her, it +was easy to understand her meaning; but her meaning did not exhaust the +case. Society claims the right—and has the power—to harbor things +against us; hence the gallows, the prisons, and decrees of social +banishment. However, this sort of talk was confidential—between her and +me only. If society were disposed to give her the benefit of the doubt, +it would be very unlike Jenny not to make the thing as easy as possible +for society. Often society has no objection to being "cheated"; it will +let you shut its eyes to what you have done—strictly on condition that +you do not so much as hint that you had any right to do it. But it was +doubtful whether Jenny would find all Catsford in this accommodating +temper.</p> + +<p>"What's your opinion?" she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"If I understand you rightly, you did a serious thing; on any theory and +to anybody who thinks—never mind his precise views—a very serious +thing. But you seem to know that well enough, and more talk about it +won't mend matters."</p> + +<p>"It was a wonderful time—my time of defiance—my time of surrender. At +least I tried to make it surrender—and my greatest surrender was to +consent not to go on defying. While I defied, I could surrender—because +I could lose sight of everything in him. He was big enough, Austin! I +seemed then to be putting the world—both worlds, if you like—quite out +of sight, annihilating them for myself, saying I could get on without +them if only I had Leonard—or, rather, if only Leonard would—would +swallow me up!" She looked at me with one of her straight candid +glances. "Well, he had no objection to that." Her lips curved in a +reluctant smile. "You wouldn't expect him to have, would you? We made a +plan. We were to go to Africa—somewhere in British East Africa—and +live there—away from everything. Not because of fear or anything of +that sort, you know—but because we felt we could get on better there. I +wanted to strip myself of everything that made me distinct from him—of +all I had or was, apart from him. I knew all the time that here, at +home, we should be impossible together; you know I felt that because you +watched the whole thing, Austin, and must have known that only that +feeling could have kept me from him. Well, I could only try to drive out +that fear of him by accepting all it meant—by being quite natural about +it—by saying, 'I've an instinct that you'll absorb me; I yield to +it—only make it easy—give it the best chance—don't keep me where all +sorts of things compel me to struggle against it. Struggling isn't a +possible life; perhaps surrender is. Let's try.' All this was the +underlying thing—the real thing that was going on. On the top we were +doing all sorts of interesting outside things—he was a wonderful +companion—but this was what we were battling out all the time—how to +make it work—how we could give our lives a chance of working together. +We both wanted that—and we both knew that it was horribly difficult. +The greatest thing about him is that he knew my side of the difficulty +so extraordinarily well. Isn't that rather rare?"</p> + +<p>"To his mind you were a great woman. He called you so to me. That +accounts for it."</p> + +<p>"How difficult it all is! The more the thing is worth while, the more +difficult! Well, we were to try—to be married and go to Africa and try. +Leonard didn't press marriage on me, but he admitted that he'd prefer +it—for a particular reason that I'll tell you about presently. And I +agreed; but neither of us made a great thing of that. Marriage may be a +great thing, but I can't think that marrying just to mend matters is +anything very great and sacred, can you? And that was all ours would +have come to, of course. It would have been by way of apology."</p> + +<p>She had a remorseless mind—most remorseless for herself and her +motives. Yet a man might be a bit puzzled how to meet her reasoning.</p> + +<p>"We're getting into the sphere of those opinions," I said. "We shall be +up against Alison and Mrs. Jepps in a moment!"</p> + +<p>"I know, and I'm only trying to tell you what happened—how we felt +about the thing. And then—we needn't have troubled! A gay young +gentleman, a little merry with wine—a lady in a cafe—a hot-tempered +man particularly jealous to exact respect for her—what a simple, +obvious, silly way to bring everything to dust!"</p> + +<p>"You said you were happy at last."</p> + +<p>"Our fight was done; our love was perfect. Oh, but we managed a quarrel; +I wanted to die, too, and that made him terribly angry." She +laughed—and the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Dear, dear Leonard—he +said that, if he'd known I should talk such nonsense, he'd have thrown +the Frenchman into the Loire and had no more trouble about it. So he +died—his crossness with me just over!"</p> + +<p>"Well over, I think," I said gently.</p> + +<p>"He gave just one turn of his great great body, laid his head on my +breast, swore at a fly that settled on his nose—oh, Austin!—and went +to sleep there like a little child. It was above two hours before I +could bear to call anybody. Then—they took him away."</p> + +<p>After a long pause, which I had no inclination to break, she went on: "I +daresay you wonder why I came back here?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd come back. Things never seem irremediable to you; you +never like to let go finally."</p> + +<p>"That's true, I suppose. But I've a more special reason than that. +Leonard left me a legacy—that brings me here—but don't let's talk +about that for a minute. Is it true that Bertram Ware talks about +selling Oxley. Mr. Cartmell said something about it in one of his +letters."</p> + +<p>"He's understood to be open to a good offer, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll make him one."</p> + +<p>"You're at work already!"</p> + +<p>"A pretty place and a nice little estate—just between Fillingford Manor +and Overington!" Was the inherited liking for "driving wedges" still in +force? She had lost Fillingford Manor, but Oxley Lodge would make a +useful wedge. "I wonder if there's any chance of that new man at +Hingston selling! I don't want the house, but those farms round Hilton +Heath would round us off nicely."</p> + +<p>"Buy the county and the town! Isn't that what you want?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want one single thing, Austin—for myself. But I have a little +plan in my head. Well, I must do something with my life, mustn't I—and +with all this money?"</p> + +<p>"Build the Institute!"</p> + +<p>"I really think I shall be able to manage that. Mr. Bindlecombe's my +friend still?"</p> + +<p>"He has plucked up courage—under the influence of Lady Aspenick."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," said Jenny, "I must try not to lose Lady Aspenick." She +looked thoughtful. "Yes, I must try." She seemed to anticipate some +difficulty.</p> + +<p>Her plan of campaign was indicated, if not revealed. She had come back; +she was going to try to "get back." What had happened was to make a +difference only just where, and in so far as, she herself decided that +it must. About that she had not been explicit, but it was evidently a +great point with her—a thing which profoundly affected her inner life. +But her outer life was not to be affected—her external position was not +in the end to suffer. And this ambition, this plan, was somehow +connected with her "legacy" from Leonard Octon.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she spoke again. "When a mask is on, you can't see the face. I +shall wear a mask—don't judge my face by it. I've taken it off for you +to-day. I have given you the means of judging. But I shall wear it day +by day—against everybody; even against you generally, I expect, though +I may sometimes lift a corner up for you."</p> + +<p>What had I seen while the mask was off? A woman profoundly humiliated in +herself but resolute not to accept outward humiliation? It was hardly +that, though that had an element of applicability in it. A woman +ready—even determined—to pay a great penalty for what she had done, +but resolved to evade or to defy the obvious and usual penalties? There +was truth in that, too. But more remained. It seemed as though, with the +hurricane of which she spoke, there had come an earthquake. It had left +her alive, and in touch with life; life was not done. But it was +different—forever and irrevocably different. Her relations to life had +all been shifted. That was the great penalty she accepted—and she was +prepared to accept its executions, its working-out, seeing in that, +apparently, the logically proper, the inevitable outcome of her act. The +obvious penalties were not to her mind inevitable; she would admit that +they were conventionally proper—but that admission left her free to +avoid them if she could. The outward punishment she would dodge; before +the inward she would bow her head. And the sphere of the penalty must be +the same as the sphere of the offense. Her intellect had not offended, +and that was left free to work, to expatiate, to enjoy. On her heart +fell the blows, as from her heart had come the crime. There it was that +the shifting of relations, the change of position, the transformation of +feelings, had their place.</p> + +<p>An intelligible attitude—but a proud, indeed a very arrogant, one. Only +Jenny should punish Jenny—that was pretty well what it said. She +herself had decreed her penalty. It might be adequate—perhaps she alone +could know the truth of that—but it was open to the objection that it +was quite unauthorized. Neither in what it included nor in what it +excluded did it conform to any code of religious or social obligation. +It was Jenny's sentence on Jenny—and Jenny proposed to carry it out. +Centralization of power seemed to shake hands with anarchy.</p> + +<p>Jenny's mood grew lighter on her last words. "To-night we'll send a +paragraph to the Catsford paper to announce my return," she said, +smiling. "I'm not skulking back!"</p> + +<p>"It will occasion interest and surprise."</p> + +<p>"It's not the only surprise I've got for them," laughed Jenny. Then, +suddenly, she held up her hand for silence. From the terrace outside the +window I heard a merry sweet-toned laugh. Jenny rose and went to the +window, and I followed her.</p> + +<p>Old Chat was on the terrace, and beside her stood a girl, not tall, very +slender. Her arm was through Chat's, her back toward us, her face in +profile as she turned to talk—and she was talking briskly and in +excited interest—to her companion. The profile was small, regular, +refined; I could not see the eyes; the hair was a golden brown, very +plentiful.</p> + +<p>"Who's that pretty girl?" I cried.</p> + +<p>Jenny copied the attitude of the pair on the terrace; she put her arm +through mine and said with a laugh, "She is pretty, then?" The laugh +sounded triumphant. "Why, as pretty a little thing as a man could find +in a lifetime!" I cried in honest enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, you're not such a hopeless old bachelor after all," said +Jenny. "Not that I in the least want you to fall in love with her—not +you, Austin."</p> + +<p>"I think I am—half!"</p> + +<p>"Keep just the other half for me. Half's as much as I want, you know." +Her voice sounded sad again, yet whimsically sad. "But I do want that +from you, I think." She pressed my arm; then, waiting for no answer, she +went on gayly, "I think I shall surprise Catsford with that!"</p> + +<p>"She's going to pay you a visit?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"She's going to live here," Jenny answered. "That's my legacy, Austin."</p> + +<p>I smote my free arm against my thigh. "By Heaven, the girl on the +mantelpiece at Hatcham Ford!" I cried.</p> + +<p>At the moment the girl on the terrace turned round, saw us, and waved +her hand merrily to Jenny. Certainly the prettiest little creature you +ever saw—in the small, dainty, delicate, roguishly appealing way: and +most indubitably the original of that picture which I had seen at +Hatcham Ford, which vanished on the night when Octon went forth +alone—little thinking that Jenny would follow him.</p> + +<p>I turned from her to Jenny in astonishment. "But I'd made up my mind +that it was his wife."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad he told you he was married. He told you the dreadful thing +about it, too, didn't he? It wasn't a thing one could talk about—he'd +never have allowed that for a minute—but I wish everybody could have +known. It seems a sort of excuse for what they all quarreled with in +him. He'd been made to feel the world his enemy when he was young; that +must tell on a man, mustn't it?"</p> + +<p>"This is a daughter? He never said anything about a daughter."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose you didn't happen to get on that—and you didn't ask. A +woman would have asked, of course, whether there were any children—and +how old they were, and what was the color of their hair."</p> + +<p>"Upon my soul, it never occurred to me!"</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't," she remarked, smiling. "But this is Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Where's she been all the while?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, only at school—there's no mystery. He was only at Hatcham Ford +four years—just her school years. He didn't bring her there in the +holidays, because that would have meant a chaperon—he couldn't have +looked after a girl—and he hated the idea of that. And I think he was +afraid, too, that the people wouldn't be nice to her. He was very +sensitive for her, though he wasn't at all for himself." She paused a +moment. "Does that explain anything else I've said?"</p> + +<p>I thought, for a moment, over our talk. "About the marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jenny. "It didn't seem fair to her without that. That +weighed with him more than anything else—and with me, too, a good deal. +I don't think I need be ashamed of that."</p> + +<p>"Certainly you needn't—quite the contrary in fact."</p> + +<p>"We should have wanted her to be with us—to pay us visits anyhow—at +least until she married. Yes, it wouldn't have been just." She frowned +impatiently; still more than anything else, Margaret Octon seemed to +bring home to her the difficult side—the side most hard to defend—of +what she had done and contemplated. She passed away from it without more +words.</p> + +<p>"When he was dying he gave her to me. That put an end to the quarrel I +told you about. It gave me back some of him and gave me something to +live for. 'I know you'll do the handsome thing by her, Jenny,' he said. +I mean to try, Austin."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you do, but"—I could not help blurting it out—"won't her +being here make matters worse?"</p> + +<p>"Worse or better, better or worse, here she's going to be," said Jenny. +"She's been with me nearly a year already. She's one of the two things +he's left behind him—to stay with me."</p> + +<p>I did not ask what the other thing was.</p> + +<p>"Is she to bear his name?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she is. She's my friend and ward—and Leonard Octon's +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Rather a pill for Catsford! Dear me, what a pretty little thing it is!"</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad she's like that. It makes so much more possible. This is +a good gift that Leonard has left me. She's my joy—you must be my +consolation. I can't give you anything in return, but there's something +I can give her—and I'll give it full measure, for Leonard's sake." She +laughed, rather reluctantly, squeezing my arm again. "Oh, yes, and I'm +afraid a little bit because Jenny Driver still likes her own way! And, +above all, her own way with Catsford! Shall we see if she can get it?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW CAMPAIGN</h3> + + +<p>Jenny had come back with her courage unbroken—and with her ambitions +unappeased, though it seemed that their direction had been in some +measure changed. Somehow Margaret Octon was now one of their principal +objects. It was not possible just now to see further into her mind, even +at a tolerably close view—a much closer one than her neighbors were +permitted to enjoy. It was even an appreciable time before Catsford +heard of Margaret Octon at all. The presence of the girl was not +obtruded, much less her name; nothing was said of her in the paragraph +that went to the paper. Jenny left Catsford to digest the fact of her +own return first.</p> + +<p>It was enough to occupy the neighborhood's digestive faculties for many +days. It raised such various questions, on which different minds settled +with differing degrees of avidity. Questions of morality, of propriety, +of conventionality on the one hand—questions of charity, of policy, of +self-interest on the other. There were the party of principle and the +party of expediency, cutting across the lines of the party of propriety +and the party of charity. Some quoted Cæsar's wife—when do they not? +Others maintained that an Englishman was innocent till he was proved +guilty—and <i>a fortiori</i> a handsome, attractive, interesting, and +remarkably rich Englishwoman. It was contended by one faction that a +self-banishment of nearly three years was apology enough—if apology +were needed; by the other that Jenny had insolently spurned any effort +to "put herself right" with public opinion. To add to the complication, +people shifted their attitudes from day to day—either under influence, +as when they had been talked to by Mrs. Jepps or by Mr. Bindlecombe as +the case might be, or from the sheer pleasure of discussing the matter +over again from another point of view, and drawing out their neighbors +by advocating what, twenty-four hours earlier, they had condemned.</p> + +<p>The climax came when the news of Margaret leaked out, as it was bound +soon to do, if only through the mouths of the servants at the Priory. +There was a pretty girl there, a girl of seventeen—whose name was +Octon—daughter, it was understood, of the late Mr. Leonard Octon of +Hatcham Ford; she was living with Miss Driver, as her friend or her +ward—at any rate, apparently, as a fixture. Some found a likeness +between Margaret's sudden appearance and Jenny's own, and this element +added a piquancy to the situation, even though the similarity was rather +superficial than essential. Old Nicholas Driver had every reason to +produce his daughter and invest her formally with the position of +heir-apparent to his great possessions, to his over-lordship of the +town. Octon had been merely the temporary tenant of a hired house—a +mere bird of passage—and a solitary bird besides, neither giving nor +receiving confidences. Why should he have talked about his dead wife and +his young daughter to ears that cared not a straw about either of them? +The coincidence was noted, but it was soon swallowed up in the new issue +as to Jenny's conduct which the appearance of Margaret raised. +Bluntly—for which party was this a score? Jenny's opponents saw in it a +new defiance—a willful flaunting of offense; her friends found in it a +romantic flavor which pleaded for her.</p> + +<p>On the whole, so far as could be judged from Bindlecombe's accounts—he +was my constant reporter—Jenny's adherents gained ground in the +town—partly from her personal popularity, partly from the old power of +her family, in part, perhaps (if one may venture to say so from the safe +obscurity of a private station), because our lords the masses are not in +a matter of this sort very unforgiving—in which they touch hands with +the opposite end of society. Self-interest probably aided—Catsford had +of late basked in the somewhat wintry favor of Fillingford Manor; the +beams were chilly; Breysgate would emit a kinder glow. It "paid" so many +people in the town to have Jenny back! The feeling in the county was +preponderatingly against her. There Fillingford Manor was a greater +power; its attitude was definite, resolute, not to be misunderstood. +Outside the town Jenny could look at present for little support. Old Mr. +Dormer with his pliant standards was dead. There were only the +Aspenicks—Lady Aspenick must be civil—owing to what she had done about +the road; but her influence, even if cordially exercised, would not be +enough.</p> + +<p>Following the example of great commanders, Jenny massed her forces on +the most favorable point. She flung herself on the workingmen of +Catsford. Hesitating, probably, to expose Margaret to the chances of the +campaign, she left her at home, but she requisitioned Cartmell and +myself, and we drove down in full state into Catsford at noon on the +fourth day after her return. Our ostensible purpose was to go to +Cartmell's office, to transact some legal business; as he could easily +have brought his papers up to the Priory, this did not seem very +convincing. Our way took us past the great Driver works—conducted now +by a limited company, in which Jenny held a controlling interest. In +front of the big building was a large open space, still known as "The +Green" though constant traffic of feet had worn away all trace of grass. +Here was the forum of Catsford, where men assembled for open-air +meetings and, less formally, for discussion, gossip—even, it was said, +for betting—in their spare moments, and especially in the dinner-hour. +It happened to be the dinner-hour now—as Jenny observed innocently when +we found the place full of Driver employees who had swallowed their meal +and were talking together or lounging about, their pipes in their +mouths. Cartmell gave a grim chuckle at Jenny's artless surprise. He had +taken her return very quietly, loyally accepting his position as her man +of business, but hardly welcoming her with real cordiality. I fancy that +he found it hard to forgive; was not Fillingford Manor gone forever?</p> + +<p>We had not progressed many yards before she was recognized. She courted +recognition, stopping to speak to an old artisan who had once been +introduced to her as a contemporary of her father's. Men gathered round +her as she sat chatting with the veteran. She seemed unconscious of +being gradually surrounded. At last, with a most gracious good-by, she +said, "Now drive on, please," then looked suddenly round, saw all the +folk, and bowed and smiled. One fellow started, "Three cheers for Miss +Driver!" That set the thing going. They gave her cheer on cheer. Jenny +sat through it smiling, flushed, just once glancing across to me with a +covert triumph. The cheers brought more men running up; there were two +or three hundred round us. "Welcome home!" they cried. "Welcome home!" +Then somebody called, "Speech, speech!" The cry was taken up with +hilarious enthusiasm, and the crowd grew every minute.</p> + +<p>Suddenly on the outskirts of the throng I saw a man on horseback. He had +stopped his horse and was looking on. There was no mistaking Lacey's +handsome face and trim figure.</p> + +<p>Jenny rose to her feet and held up her hand for silence. She spoke her +few words in a ringing voice. "My friends and neighbors, thank you for +your welcome home. I am glad from my heart to be in Catsford again. +That's where Nicholas Driver's daughter ought to be. So I've come back." +She kissed her hand to them two or three times, standing there in the +carriage. Then I saw that she caught sight of Lacey. The flush on her +cheeks deepened. For a second she stood, looking at him her lips just +parted in a smile; but she did not incline her head. He lifted his hat +and bowed low from his saddle. Then she gave him her most radiant +recognition—and sank down on the cushions of the carriage with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Jenny could not have reckoned on that encounter—though it seemed all to +the good. We were to have another, on which she had not counted either +when she chose so cleverly the scene of her public reappearance. When at +last they made a lane for our horses to pass, some taking leave of us +with fresh cheers, others escorting us on either side, with jokes and +horseplay among themselves, we met a little procession. It was Alison's +custom to hold a short out-of-door service three times a week during the +men's dinner-hour; the Green was his chosen pulpit, as it had been +Jenny's chosen scene. He came toward us now in all his ecclesiastical +panoply, attended by two or three of his (if Mrs. Jepps will allow me +the term) assistant priests and by a band of choir boys, all in their +robes. Jenny caught sight of the procession and leaned forward eagerly. +I looked back. Lacey was still there; a man was by his horse, talking to +him no doubt, but his eyes were following our progress.</p> + +<p>I do not happen to know whether it be etiquette to offer or return the +ordinary signs of recognition when one forms part of a procession, +either secular or ecclesiastical. In the case of the latter, at all +events, probably it is not. This perhaps got Alison out of a +difficulty—while it left Jenny in a doubt. But I think that it must be +permissible to look rather more benevolent, rather less sternly aloof, +than Alison's face was as she passed, escorted by her jesting adherents. +To say that he took no more notice of us or of them than if we had not +been there is inadequate. His ignoring of us achieved a positive +quality. He passed by with his eyes purposely, aggressively, +indifferent. The boys and men looked after him and his procession, and +nudged one another with smiles.</p> + +<p>Jenny's face told nothing of her view of this little incident. She was +still smiling when we quickened up and, with final hand-wavings, shook +ourselves clear of our adherents. At Cartmell's office her head was as +clear and her manner as composed as possible. The business that brought +us having been transacted, she opened fire on Cartmell about Oxley Lodge +and the outlying farms of Hingston. Verily she was losing no time in her +campaign!</p> + +<p>Cartmell was obviously amused at her. "That's making up for lost time +with a vengeance, Miss Jenny! Hingston and Oxley all at once!" As soon +as they got on to business—got to work again—his old pride and +pleasure in her began to revive.</p> + +<p>"Only a bit of Hingston!" Jenny pleaded with a smile.</p> + +<p>"There's plenty of money," he said thoughtfully. "In spite of keeping +things going here as you ordered—much too lavishly done it was, too, in +my opinion—it's been piling up since you've been away. If they're +willing to sell—I hear on good authority that Bertram Ware is if he can +get his price—the money's not the difficulty. But what's the good?"</p> + +<p>"The good?" asked Jenny.</p> + +<p>"Surely you've got plenty? What's the good of a lot more? Isn't it only +a burden on you?"</p> + +<p>She answered him not with her old impatience, but with all her +resoluteness—her old certainty that she knew what she wanted, and why +she wanted it—and that it was quite immaterial whether anyone else did.</p> + +<p>"You look after the money, Mr. Cartmell; you can leave the good to +me—and the burden!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, you and your father!" he grumbled. "No good advising—not the +least! 'Slave-Driver' I used to call him over our port after dinner +sometimes. You're just the same, Miss Jenny."</p> + +<p>"All that just because I want to buy a pretty house!" said Jenny, +appealing deprecatingly to me.</p> + +<p>She would not go away without his promise to press both matters on. +Having extracted this, she went home—and ended her first day's campaign +by issuing an ukase that all the Driver workmen should, at an early +date, have a day's holiday on full wages, with a great feast for them, +their wives, children, and sweethearts in the grounds of +Breysgate—wages and feast alike to be provided out of the privy purse +of Miss Driver. Catsford was behaving well and was to be petted! Jenny +did not mention whether she intended to invite its chief spiritual +director.</p> + +<p>I dined at the Priory that night—a night, on the whole, of distinct +triumph—and made acquaintance with Margaret Octon. Strange daughter of +such a father! Mrs. Octon must—one was inclined to speculate—have been +marvelously different from her husband—and from Jenny Driver. +Imagination began to picture something ineffably timid, shrinking, +gentle—something which, blending with Octon's strong rough strain, +would issue in this child. She seemed all things in turn—except +self-confident. Evidently she was devoted to Jenny; perpetually she +referred all she did to Jenny's approval—but that "all" included many +varieties. Now she would be demure, now venturesome, now childishly +merry, now assuming a premature sedateness. She played tricks with +Jenny, her brown eyes always asking whether she might play them; she +enjoyed herself immensely—by Jenny's kind permission. This constant +reference and this constant appeal found no warrant in anything in +Jenny's manner; the child was evidently a privileged pet and could do +just as she pleased—Jenny delighted in her. It was then in the girl's +nature itself. She was grace and charm—without strength. It would be +very appealing, if one were the person appealed to; it would be most +attractive, most tempting, when seconded by her frail fairy-like beauty. +For it was a joy to look at her; and if she looked at you, asking leave +to be happy, what could you say but—"By all means—and pray let me do +all I can to help!"</p> + +<p>Jenny seemed to watch her gayeties and her demureness, her ventures and +retreats, with delight indeed, but also with a more subtle feeling. She +not only enjoyed; she studied and pondered. She gave the impression of +wanting to know what would be thought by others. This with Jenny was +unusual; but her manner did unmistakably ask me my opinion several +times, and when, after dinner, Margaret had waltzed Chat out of the room +for a stroll in the garden, she asked it plainly.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she just as charming as she looks?"</p> + +<p>"She worships you," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"That's nothing—natural just at first, while she's so young. But don't +you find her charming?" Jenny persisted.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about women—but if that form of flattery were brought to +bear on any man, I don't see how he could possibly resist."</p> + +<p>"It's quite natural; it's not put on in the least."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it. That's what would make it so dangerous. To have that +beautiful little creature treating one as a god—who could refuse the +incense, or not become devoted to the worshiper?"</p> + +<p>Jenny nodded. "You understand it, I see. Men would feel that way, would +they?"</p> + +<p>"Rather!" I answered, with a laugh. Jenny was leaning her head on her +elbow, and looked across the table at me with a satisfied mocking smile. +I could see that I had given an answer that pleased her—but she was not +minded to tell me why she was pleased.</p> + +<p>Half chaffing her, half really wondering what she would be at, I asked, +"Do you want Oxley Lodge for Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"For her?" exclaimed Jenny, smiling still. "Why? Isn't this house big +enough for the mite?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose you both marry—or either? You're both eminently marriageable +young women."</p> + +<p>"Are we? Eminently marriageable? Well, I suppose so." She laughed. "Even +if one doesn't marry, it's something to be marriageable, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"A most valuable asset," said I. "Then you'd want two houses."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we should. But how far you look ahead, Austin!"</p> + +<p>"If that isn't Satan reproving sin—!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"What do you suspect me of now?" she asked, still mocking, but genuinely +curious, I think, to fathom my thoughts.</p> + +<p>"No, no! You'll be off on another tack if you think you've been +sighted."</p> + +<p>She laughed as she rose from the table. "Oh, come out and walk! At any +rate, my getting Oxley would annoy Lady Sarah, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"You can annoy her cheaper than that!"</p> + +<p>"There's plenty of money, Mr. Cartmell says," she answered, smiling over +her shoulder as she led the way.</p> + +<p>I had a talk with Margaret, too, a little later on. Jenny sent us for a +moonlight stroll together. Young as the child was, she was good company, +independently of her place in Jenny's mind, which for me gave her an +adventitious interest. But what a contrast to Jenny, no less than to +Octon—and perhaps a more profound one! The fine new surroundings, the +enlarged horizon which Jenny's friendship opened to her, were still a +delightful bewilderment; she enjoyed actively, but she accepted +passively; she applauded the entertainment, but never thought of +arranging the bill of the play. Jenny could not have been like +that—even at seventeen; she would have itched to write some lines in +the book, to have a word to say to the scenes. Margaret's simplicity of +grateful responsiveness was untouched by any calculation.</p> + +<p>"It's all just so wonderful!" she said to me, her arms waving over the +park, her brown eyes wide with surprised admiration.</p> + +<p>She came to it only on an invitation. Jenny had come as owner. But Jenny +had not been overwhelmed like this. Jenny had kept cool, had taken it +all in—and been interested to survey, from Tor Hill, the next estate!</p> + +<p>"To happen to me—suddenly! Ah, but I wish father had lived. If he could +have lived to marry Jenny! They were engaged when he—was killed, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "I know. But don't be sad to-night. Things smell sweet, +and there's a moon in the sky."</p> + +<p>She laughed—merry in an instant. "Jenny says we're going to do such +things! As soon as she's settled down again, you know." She paused for a +moment. "Did she love my father very much?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think she did," I answered, "and I think she loves you."</p> + +<p>"To me she's just—everything." Her eyes grew mirthful and adventurous; +she gave a little laugh as she added, "And she says she'll find me a +fairy prince!" At once she was looking to see how I liked this, not with +the anxiety which awaited Jenny's approval, but none the less with an +evident desire for mine.</p> + +<p>"That's only right," I answered, laughing. "But she needn't hurry, need +she? You'll be happy here for a bit longer?"</p> + +<p>"Happy here? I should think so!" she cried. "Ah, there's Jenny looking +for me!" In an instant she was gone; the next her arm was through +Jenny's, and she was talking merrily.</p> + +<p>I became aware of Chat's presence. She came toward me in her faded, far +from sumptuous, gentility. She had a little gush for me. "So happy it +all seems again, Mr. Austin!" she said.</p> + +<p>"We seem to be starting again very well indeed," I assented.</p> + +<p>"Dear Jenny has behaved so splendidly all through," Chat proceeded. "How +did they dare to be so malicious about her? But I've known her from a +girl. I always trusted her. Why, I may say I did a good deal to form +her!"</p> + +<p>A vivid—and highly inopportune—picture came back into my mind, a +picture dating from the night of Jenny's flight—of Chat rocking her +helpless old body to and fro, and saying through her sobs, "I tried, I +tried, I tried!" What had Chat meant that she tried to do? To keep Jenny +out of mischief? Hardly that. To save her from the danger of it had been +the object. As for forming her—Chat had made other confessions about +that.</p> + +<p>However—as things stood—Chat had always trusted Jenny. It was +impossible to say how far—at this moment—Jenny had trusted Chat. Not +very far, I think. Jenny probably had said nothing which could make it +harder for Chat to say what she would want to say; both reticence and +revelation would have been bent to that object—and Jenny was an artist +in the use of each of these expedients. Doubtless Chat had been given +her cue. Nevertheless, there was something unusual in her air—something +very friendly, confidential, yet rather furtive, as she drew a little +closer to me.</p> + +<p>"But the dear girl is so impulsive," she said. "Of course, it's +delightful, but—" She pursed her lips and gave me a significant look. +"This child!" said Chat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mean Margaret Octon? Seems a very nice girl, Miss Chatters."</p> + +<p>"Jenny's heart's so good—but what a handicap!"</p> + +<p>Chat was of that view, then, concerning the coming of Margaret. Well, it +was not uncommon.</p> + +<p>"We shall never get back to our old terms with Fillingford Manor as long +as she's here," said Chat.</p> + +<p>"Were you so much attached to Fillingford Manor?" I ventured to ask.</p> + +<p>"That would end all the talk," she insisted with an agitated urgency. +"If only Lord Fillingford would overlook—" She stopped in a sudden +fright. "Don't say I said that!"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course not," I answered, smiling. "Anything you want said you +can say yourself. It's not my business."</p> + +<p>"One can always rely on you, Mr. Austin. But wouldn't that be +perfect—after it all, you know?"</p> + +<p>It certainly would be picking up the pieces—after a smash into utter +fragments! But it is always pleasant to see people contemplating what +they regard as perfection; and no very clear duty lies on a private +individual to disturb their vision. I told Chat that the idea was no +doubt worth thinking over, and so, in amity, we parted.</p> + +<p>That was Chat's idea. Octon was gone with his fascination—not unfelt by +Chat. Now it would be perfection if Lord Fillingford would overlook! But +with that goal in view Margaret Octon was a heavy handicap. +Undoubtedly—so heavy, so fatal, that the goal could hardly be Jenny's. +Chat, who had done so much to form Jenny, might have given a thought to +that aspect of the matter. If one thing were certain, it was that Jenny, +when she accepted her legacy from Octon and brought Margaret to +Breysgate, thereby abandoned and renounced all thought of renewing her +relations with Fillingford. I was glad to come to that conclusion, +helped to getting at it clearly (as one often is) by the opposite point +of view presented by another. I had never been an enthusiastic +Fillingfordite; I had accepted rather than welcomed. And I could bear +him better suing than overlooking. Having things overlooked did not suit +my idea of Jenny—though I could enjoy seeing her riding buoyant over +them.</p> + +<p>Jenny and Margaret came along the terrace toward us, arm in arm, their +approach heralded by merry laughter. "We've been building castles in the +air!" cried Jenny.</p> + +<p>"May you soon be living in them!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head at me in half-serious rebuke. "They were for +Margaret!"</p> + +<p>Jenny might deny herself the sky; but she would have castles +somewhere—founded solidly on earth. It was the earth she trusted now. +You cannot fall off that.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>A CASE OF CONSCIENCE</h3> + + +<p>"And now about the Institute!" said Jenny the next morning. Cartmell had +obeyed her summons to come up to the Priory, and the three of us were +together in my office there.</p> + +<p>She was not wasting time. Matters were to move quick. She had come home +with her plans matured, ready for execution. The enemies might hesitate, +losing themselves in debate. She would not hesitate, nor take part in +the debate about herself. Acting and acting quickly, she would carry the +position while they still discussed how—or even whether—it should be +defended.</p> + +<p>"The Committee stands adjourned <i>sine die</i>," said Cartmell. "You'd +convene a meeting?"</p> + +<p>Jenny would have none of convening the Committee. It would be awkward if +some of the members did not come—and still more awkward if all of them +attended!</p> + +<p>"I regard the Committee as having abdicated," she told us. "They chose +to adjourn—let them stay adjourned. I shall go over their +heads—straight to the Corporation. Let's see if the Corporation will +refuse! If they do, we shall know where we are."</p> + +<p>Of course she did not think that they would refuse, or she would never +have risked an offer which forced the issue into the open. Fillingford +had his feelings, Alison his scruples. Both scruples and feelings were +intelligible. But was the Borough Council going to refuse a hundred +thousand pounds freely given for the borough's benefit?</p> + +<p>"Hatcham Ford as it stands—and a hundred thousand pounds, please, Mr. +Cartmell."</p> + +<p>"With the town spreading out as it is in that direction, that's more +like a hundred and fifty in reality," he grumbled.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to bleed you sadly!" Jenny assured him gayly. "We'll send for +Mr. Bindlecombe and get this in hand at once. We'll see the Institute +growing out of the ground within the year!"</p> + +<p>Bindlecombe, too, was all for a dashing strategy—though I think that he +would have been for anything that Jenny wanted. The letter to the Mayor +(Bindlecombe no longer filled that office, though he was still a leading +member of the Corporation) was written; it appeared in the paper; a +meeting to consider it was called for the next week. In the same issue +of the paper appeared an account of Jenny's reception in Catsford, and +an announcement of the impending holiday and feast. That issue might +fairly be called Jenny's number. Her friends were jubilant; her enemies +were bewildered by the audacity of her assault.</p> + +<p>But Jenny did not come off without loss. Not only did she confirm the +disapproval of those who were resolute against her—I heard much of Mrs. +Jepps's outspoken and shocked comments, something of Alison's stern +silence—but she lost or came near to losing an adherent of undoubted +value.</p> + +<p>Dash and defiance were not Lady Aspenick's idea of the proper way of +proceeding; and another thing offended her no less. She had, I think, on +the news of Jenny's return, devised a scheme by which she was to be +Jenny's protector and champion; she would throw the ægis of Overington +Grange's undoubted respectability over Jenny's vulnerable spot; her +influence, tact, and diplomacy would gradually smooth Jenny's path back +to society; Jenny would be bound to gratitude and to docility. The +dashing strategy upset all that; the appearance of Margaret Octon upset +it still more.</p> + +<p>She paid her call on Jenny—her previous position committed her to that. +She drove over—not in a tandem—on the same day on which all the news +about Jenny was in the paper. I met her as she went away, happening to +come up to the Priory door just as she was coming out—Jenny not +escorting her. She was looking black.</p> + +<p>"It's pleasant to welcome you to a cheerful house once again, Lady +Aspenick. We've had a long dull time at the Priory."</p> + +<p>"You won't be dull now, anyhow," she rejoined with some acidity. She +dropped her voice that the men might not hear. "Oh, how unwise! All this +parade and splash! I can't tell you how I feel about it—and Jack, too! +And poor Mr. Alison! And, to crown all, she flings the thing in our +faces by bringing this girl with her!"</p> + +<p>"She's a very nice girl," I pleaded meekly.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about that. She's that man's daughter. Surely Jenny +Driver might have known that her chance lay in having it all forgotten +and—and in being—well, just the opposite of what she is now? She goes +on as if she were proud of herself!"</p> + +<p>As a criticism on Jenny's public attitude, there was some truth in this. +I could not tell Lady Aspenick about her private attitude—nor would it +make matters better if I did.</p> + +<p>"She makes it very hard for her friends," continued the aggrieved lady. +"We were anxious to do our best for her. But really—!" Words failed. +She shook her head emphatically at me and walked off to her carriage.</p> + +<p>I found Jenny in a fine rage as the result of Lady Aspenick's expression +of her views—which had apparently been nearly as frank to her as to me. +Yet she protested that she had behaved with the utmost wisdom and +meekness—for Margaret's sake.</p> + +<p>"I stood it, Austin," she declared, with a little stamp of her foot. +"How I stood it I don't know, but I did. She lectured me—she told me I +ought to have been guided by her! She said I was going quite the wrong +way about it with the Institute and that she deeply regretted the +'scene' in Catsford. The scene! She threatened me with the parsons and +the Puritans!"</p> + +<p>How very angry Jenny was! Parsons and Puritans!</p> + +<p>"And ended up—yes, she dared to end up—by telling me I must send +Margaret away. She'll see more of Margaret than she thinks before she's +done with her!"</p> + +<p>"And you were very meek and mild?"</p> + +<p>"I know you don't believe it. But I was. I was absolutely civil and +thanked her for her kindness. But of course I said that I must judge for +myself—and that the question of Margaret lay absolutely outside the +bounds of discussion."</p> + +<p>"To which Lady Aspenick——?"</p> + +<p>"She got up and went. What did she say to you?"</p> + +<p>"Much the same—that you were making it very difficult for her."</p> + +<p>"I've gained more than I've lost in Catsford," Jenny declared +obstinately and confidently. Then her voice softened. "As for poor +little Margaret—it's not a question of my gain or my loss there. You do +know that?" She was appealing to me for a kind judgment.</p> + +<p>"I'm beginning to understand that."</p> + +<p>"I stand or fall with Margaret; or I fall—if only she stands. That's +final." She broke into a smile. "So, in spite of what you think, I drove +myself to be civil to Susie Aspenick. But let her wait a little! Send +Margaret away!" Jenny looked dangerous again.</p> + +<p>Jenny could have forgiven the criticism of her Catsford +proceedings—though not over easily; the attempt to touch Margaret +rankled, and, if I mistook not, would rankle, sorely.</p> + +<p>It is pleasant to record that Jenny's chivalrous devotion to her +"legacy" found appreciation elsewhere; it softened an opponent, and +stirred to enthusiasm one already inclined to be a friend.</p> + +<p>I had a note from Alison: "I can't countenance her goings on in +Catsford—her courting of publicity and applause, her holidays and +picnics—no, nor—at present—her Institute either. If she is entitled +to come back at all, she is not entitled to come in triumph—far from +it. But I like and admire what she is doing about Miss Octon, and I have +scandalized Mrs. Jepps and many other good folk by saying so. In that +she's brave and honest. I shouldn't mind if you could let her know how I +feel on this second point; my views on the first she'll know for +herself."</p> + +<p>I did take occasion to let Jenny know what Alison wished to reach her. +"He may think what he likes about Catsford, if he's on my side about +Margaret," she declared with evident pleasure. Then her eyes twinkled. +"We'll have him yet, Margaret and I between us!" she added.</p> + +<p>The next Sunday she attended Alison's church—she, Chat, and Margaret +Octon. I hope that she was not merely "doing the civil thing," like the +duchess in the story. After all she had always been one of his +bugbears—one of the people who went "fairly regularly."</p> + +<p>That same Sunday, in the afternoon, Lacey came to see me. He drove up in +his dog-cart, handed the reins to a good-looking dark man, with upturned +mustaches, who sat by him, and came to my door. Having seen their +arrival, I was there to open it and welcome him.</p> + +<p>"Won't your friend come in, too?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"He's all right; he's in no hurry, and he's got a cigar. I want to speak +to you alone for just a minute."</p> + +<p>He followed me in and sat down. His manner was thoughtful and a little +embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"I saw you down in Catsford the other day," I remarked. "They were very +kind to us!"</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you a question, Austin," he said. "Do you think that Miss +Driver would wish to receive a call from me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she'd be delighted."</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit. You haven't heard the whole position. You saw me in +Catsford? You saw me bow to her?"</p> + +<p>I nodded assent.</p> + +<p>"Then I think I ought to go and pay her my respects—if it's not +disagreeable to her to receive me."</p> + +<p>"But why should it be?"</p> + +<p>"I belong to Fillingford Manor. I'm living there now. Neither the master +nor the lady of the house will—neither of them shares my views."</p> + +<p>That did, on reflection, make the matter a little less simple than it +had seemed at first.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose we either of us want to discuss their reasons—or +wonder at the line they take. I had a little talk with my father about +it. He's always very fair. 'You're a man,' he said. 'Decide for +yourself. If after the recognition that passed between you—and on your +initiative, as I understand—you feel bound—as you say you do—as a +gentleman to go and pay your respects, go. But I shall be obliged to you +if you will make the relations between that house and this as distant as +is consistent with the demands of courtesy.'"</p> + +<p>"In view of that I don't think you're in any way bound to call: I'm not +at all sure you ought to. Lord Fillingford's wishes are entitled to +great weight—especially while you're living in his house."</p> + +<p>He was a man now—and a fine specimen of one—but his boyish impetuosity +had not left him. "By Jove, I want to go, Austin!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought that perhaps you did."</p> + +<p>"I want to go and see her—and I should like to tell her, if I dared, +that there's not a man in the service to touch her. I don't mean her +driving through Catsford—though she took a risk there; some of those +chaps aren't mealy-mouthed. I mean what she's done about this little +Miss Octon. That's what I like. Because the girl's her man's daughter, +she snaps her fingers at the lot of us! That's what I like, +Austin—that's why I want to go and see her. But I couldn't say that to +the governor."</p> + +<p>"You'll never be able to, any better. So you must consider your course. +Is it—loyal—to your father?"</p> + +<p>He knit his brows in perplexity and vexation. "Was I loyal to him that +night we went to Hatcham Ford? You didn't make that objection then!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I should have taken any objection to anything that gave a +chance then. I can look at this more coolly. Why not wait a little? +Perhaps Lord Fillingford will come to the conclusion that bygones had +best be bygones."</p> + +<p>"And Aunt Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Is that quite so essential?"</p> + +<p>He sat struggling between his scruples and his strong desire—loyalty to +his father, admiration of Jenny and attraction toward her.</p> + +<p>"I might manage to give her a hint of how you feel—and about the +difficulty."</p> + +<p>"That'd be better than nothing. Then she'd understand——?"</p> + +<p>"She'd understand the whole position perfectly," I assured him.</p> + +<p>He was plainly discontented with this compromise, but he accepted it +provisionally. "You give her that hint, anyhow, like a good fellow, +Austin—and I'll think over the other matter." He rose from his chair. +"Now I mustn't keep Gerald Dormer waiting any longer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's Gerald Dormer, is it—the new man at Hingston?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's not a bad fellow—and he doesn't think he is, either." With +this passing indication of Mr. Dormer's foible, he led the way out of +doors and introduced me to the subject of his remark. Gerald Dormer's +manner was cordial and self-satisfied. We stood in talk a minute or two. +The news of the holiday and of the feast in our park had reached Dormer, +and he laughingly demanded an invitation. "I'm pretty hard up, and +nobody gives me a dinner!" he protested.</p> + +<p>"I'll make a note of your hard case and submit it to Miss Driver. But +you're not a Driver employee, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I'm quite ready to be—for a good screw, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>"Here she comes, by Jove!" said Lacey in a quick startled whisper.</p> + +<p>Yes, there she was, within thirty yards of us, coming down the hill from +the Priory straight toward my house. Lacey glanced at the dog-cart, +seeming to meditate flight; then he pulled off the right-hand glove +which he had just put on and buttoned.</p> + +<p>"Is that Miss Driver?" whispered Dormer. I nodded assent.</p> + +<p>Jenny was in great looks that day, and, it seemed, in fine spirits. Her +head was held high, her step was buoyant, there was a delicate touch of +color in her cheeks as she came up to us. She met the gaze of all our +eyes—for all, I am sure, were on her—with a gay smile and no sign of +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Why, I'm so glad to see you again," she cried to Lacey as she gave him +her hand. "You can't think how often I've dreamed of our rides since +I've been away!"</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to see you, Miss Driver. May I introduce my friend, Mr. +Dormer—of Hingston?"</p> + +<p>She bowed to him very graciously, but turned back directly to Lacey. I +saw Dormer's eyes follow her movements with an admiring curiosity. Small +wonder; she was good to look at, and he had, no doubt, heard much.</p> + +<p>"You must come and see me," said Jenny. "Now when shall it be? Lunch +to-morrow? Or tea? Not later than the next day, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>At that point she must have seen something in his face. She stopped, +smiled oddly, even broke into a little laugh, and said, almost in a +whisper, "Oh, I forgot, how stupid of me!"</p> + +<p>Her tone and air, and the look in her hazel eyes, were nicely compounded +of humility and mockery. Confessing herself unworthy, she asked the man +if he were afraid! Didn't he dare to trust himself—was he so careful of +his reputation?</p> + +<p>Lacey had promised me that he would "think over" the question of his +relations toward Breysgate Priory. I suppose that he thought it over +now—under Jenny's humble deriding eyes.</p> + +<p>"Lunch to-morrow—I shall be delighted. Thanks awfully," he said.</p> + +<p>So ended that case of conscience. Jenny said no more than +"One-thirty"—but her lips curved over that prosaic intimation of the +hour of the meal. She turned to Dormer.</p> + +<p>"Could I persuade you to drop in, too, Mr. Dormer? We're neighbors, you +know."</p> + +<p>"It's most kind of you, Miss Driver. I shall be delighted."</p> + +<p>No scruples there; yet he, too, was, as he had chanced to mention, a +guest at Fillingford Manor.</p> + +<p>"Besides, I want to get something out of you," Jenny went on, "and I'm +much more likely to do that if I give you a good lunch."</p> + +<p>"Something out of me? What, Miss Driver?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, I shan't tell you now. Perhaps I may—after lunch."</p> + +<p>He leaned down toward her and said banteringly, "You'll have to ask me +very nicely!"</p> + +<p>"You may be sure I shall!" cried Jenny, with a swift upward glance.</p> + +<p>Jenny was flirting again—with both of them—perhaps with me also, for +her side-glances in my direction challenged and defied my opinion of her +proceedings. I was glad to see it; I did not want her abnegations to go +too far, and it is always a pity that natural gifts should be wasted; +one might, however, feel pretty sure that any Lent of hers would have +its <i>Mi-Carême</i>.</p> + +<p>But if flirting—a thing pleasant in itself, an exercise of essentially +feminine power—it was also purposeful flirting. She conciliated the new +owner of Hingston, who had his position—who also had his outlying +farms; and again she drove a wedge—this time into Lord Fillingford's +house-party.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you can come," she said to Lacey. "I want you to meet +Margaret so much." She paused for a second. "Miss Octon, you know." She +looked him very straight in the face as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you to let me," he said. "I hear she's charming."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure the Priory needs no additional attraction." This from Dormer +in the dog-cart.</p> + +<p>To one who knew Jenny well it was possible to see that this speech was +not wholly to her liking—but Dormer was not allowed to see it. He +received a passing but sufficient smile of graciousness before she gave +the hearty thanks of her eyes to Lacey. "She is charming—you'll think +so." A second's pause again, and then—"It's really very good to see +you. Some day—a ride? Margaret's having lessons down in the town. +Austin can ride still, although he has taken to writing books. We shall +make quite a cavalcade."</p> + +<p>"I say, don't leave me out, Miss Driver." This, again, from Dormer in +the dog-cart.</p> + +<p>"You live too far off."</p> + +<p>"You try me and see!" he protested. Evidently he was very well pleased +with the progress which his short acquaintance was making.</p> + +<p>Lacey shook hands with her again. "To-morrow at half-past one, +then—both of you!" she said. He turned away—was it reluctantly?—and +got into the cart. With wavings of hands and hats the two young men +drove off. Jenny stood looking after them.</p> + +<p>"What brought you here?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"The sight of those young men," answered Jenny, smiling. "May I come +into your house? Do you remember how I came in first?"</p> + +<p>"I remember; we had parted forever in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Things are generally like that. The people who seem transient stay, the +people who seem permanent go. I'm glad you seemed transient, Austin." +She was in my room now, thoughtfully looking round it as she talked.</p> + +<p>"Lacey came here to ask whether you would like him to call."</p> + +<p>"Of course I should like him to call."</p> + +<p>"Against his father's wishes. Lord Fillingford did not forbid him to +come, but expressed his hope that the relations between the two houses +would be kept as distant as courtesy allowed. I told Lacey that, in view +of his father's wish, it would be better for him not to call. He said +he'd think it over. It was a question between loyalty to his father and +admiration of you."</p> + +<p>"Admiration?" Jenny was listening with a slight smile.</p> + +<p>"Rather, of your behavior—especially about Margaret. He's enthusiastic +about that—he thinks it splendidly brave. In case he decided against +calling, he wanted you to know that."</p> + +<p>"He would have decided against it?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell. He meant to think it over."</p> + +<p>"I came down just by accident. I was going for a stroll when I saw you. +And I came down on the chance—the chance of something amusing, Austin." +She frowned a little. "I don't think I much like Mr. Dormer."</p> + +<p>"Rather a conceited fellow."</p> + +<p>She broke into a smile again. "But he may come in very convenient."</p> + +<p>"To his own profit and comfort?"</p> + +<p>"I think conceited people must take the chance of that. They expose +themselves."</p> + +<p>"To being robbed of their farms by deceitful wiles?"</p> + +<p>"He'd get a very good price for his farms," said Jenny. I do not think +that her mind had been occupied with the question of the farms. She was +looking thoughtful again. "I don't think I quarrel with what Lord +Fillingford said," she added.</p> + +<p>"Not unnatural perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I've never had any quarrel with Lord Fillingford," she said slowly. "Or +only one—a woman's quarrel. He never fell in love with me. If he had, +perhaps—!" She shrugged her shoulders. "But all that sort of thing is +over now."</p> + +<p>"Did it look so like it this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't we agree that I was—marriageable? Didn't you say that being +marriageable was an asset—even though one didn't marry?" She came +suddenly closer to me. "I've no right to ask you to trust me. I didn't +trust you—I deceived you deliberately, carefully, grossly—and yet I +expected you to help me—and took your help with very little thanks. +Still—you stayed. Stay now, and don't think too badly."</p> + +<p>"I don't think badly at all—why, you know it! But I must have my fun +out of it."</p> + +<p>"So you shall, Austin!" she laughed, with one of her sudden transitions +to gayety. "I'm the fox, and you're the huntsman! Well, I'll try to give +you a good run for your money—if you can follow the scent!"</p> + +<p>"Through all your doubles?"</p> + +<p>"Through all the doubles that lead me to my—earth!"</p> + +<p>A dainty merry little face looked in at my window. "Oh, I've tracked you +at last, Jenny!"</p> + +<p>"Is everybody tracking me?" asked Jenny, her eyes mischievously mocking. +"Run round to the door and come in, Margaret." She added quickly to me, +"I'm glad she didn't come when they were here. I'm saving her up till +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>The child came in and ran to Jenny. "Oh, what a delightful little room, +Mr. Austin! Did my father ever come here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, pretty often," I answered. "We were friends, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and he hadn't many friends. Had he, Jenny?"</p> + +<p>Jenny stooped down and kissed her. "Come, we'll go for our walk—to look +at Hatcham Ford," she said.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go inside?"</p> + +<p>"It's all shut up," said Jenny.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>LIVING PIECES</h3> + + +<p>Jenny had now on the board all the pieces needed for her great +combination—embracing, as it did, the restoration of her own position, +the regaining of Catsford's loyal allegiance, the extension of her +territory and influence in the county, and "doing the handsome thing by" +Margaret. Nobody who watched her closely—both what she did and the +hints of her mind which she let fall—could long doubt which of these +objects was paramount with her. It was the last. The others were, in a +sense, no more than means to it; though in themselves irresistible to +her temperament, necessary to her happiness, and instinctively sought by +her, yet in the combination they stood subsidiary to the master-stroke +that was to crown her game and redeem the pledge which she had given to +Leonard Octon as he lay dying. But doing the handsome thing by Margaret +carried with it, or, rather, contained within itself, as Jenny conceived +the position, another object to which in its turn it was, if not +subsidiary, so closely related as to be inseparable. Fate had severed +her life from Octon's; Jenny imperiously refused to accept the severance +as complete. Octon, the man she loved, had been at odds with the +neighborhood, had been scorned and rejected by it; she herself had +openly disgraced him at its bidding; because she had not been able to +resist his fascination, she had herself fallen into disgrace. She meant +now to obliterate all that. For him she could directly do nothing; she +would do everything for his name and for the girl whom he had left. She +would vindicate—or avenge—his memory; she would even glorify it in the +person of his daughter. That was the ultimate impulse which gave birth +to her combination and dictated its moves; the achievement of that end +was to be its consummation.</p> + +<p>It was not a selfish impulse; it had indeed a touch of something +quixotic and fanciful about it—this posthumous victory which she sought +to win for Octon, this imposing of him in his death on a society which +would have nothing of him while he lived, this proud refusal to court or +to accept oblivion for him or for her friendship with him, this +challenge thrown out to his detractors, in his name, as it were from his +grave. Her personal restoration and aggrandizement, if welcome in +themselves, were also necessary to this final object. The object itself +was not self-seeking save in so far as she stood identified with the +cause which she championed. Yet on the realization of it she did not +scruple to bring to bear all the resources and all the arts which would +have been appropriate to the most cold and calculating selfishness. +Everything was pressed into the service—the resources of her own +wealth, the opportunities afforded by the needs of her neighbors, +Catsford's appetite for holidays and feasts, as well as its aspirations +toward higher education; her own youth and attractiveness no less than +Margaret's beauty; the wiles and the cunning by which she gained power +over men. She spent herself as lavishly as she spent her money; she was +as ready to sacrifice herself as she was eager to make use of others. +She seized on every new ally and fitted him into her scheme. Dormer had +appeared at the last moment—by happy chance. In a moment she saw where +he could be of use, laid her hand on him, and pressed him into the +service. He became a new piece on the board; he had his place in the +combination.</p> + +<p>Delicate and difficult is the game when it is played with living pieces. +They may refuse to move—or may move in the wrong direction. There was +one piece, of supreme importance in the scheme, which she must handle +with rarest skill if he were to be induced to move at her bidding and in +the direction that her combination required. He was to be the head and +front of the final attack; at the head of the opposing forces stood his +father! She must be very sure of her control over that piece before she +tried to move it! Only when he had been brought wholly under her sway +could the process of impelling him in the desired direction safely be +begun.</p> + +<p>Yes, Fillingford was the great enemy. Round him gathered all the +opposition to her, her proceedings, and her pretensions; he lay right +across her path, and must be conquered if her schemes were to win +success. She was not bitter against him; she was ready to admit that he +had the right to be bitter against her. She shared his pride too much +not to appreciate his attitude. She respected him, in a way she liked +him—but she was minded to fight him to the death if need be, and to use +against him every weapon that she could find—even those that came from +his own household. If he fell before her attack, the whole campaign +would be won. But it was preposterous to suppose that he ever would? +Jenny knew the difficulties, but neither did she underestimate her own +resources. A long purse, a long head, and two remarkably attractive +young women—these formed the nucleus of her forces; they represented a +power by no means to be despised in whatever field they might be brought +into action.</p> + +<p>I was at the luncheon-party—"to talk to Chat," said Jenny; but in fact +I had fallen into the habit of lunching at the Priory. Jenny had human +weaknesses, and, from this time on, manifested a liking for a +sympathetic audience—which she could find only in me. Chat was not, in +her judgment, "safe"; she was too leaky a vessel to be trusted with the +drops of confidence—carefully measured drops—which Jenny was pleased +to let fall. Besides, she needed, now and then, a little help.</p> + +<p>The young men arrived in high spirits, and Jenny, flanked by Chat and +myself—Margaret was not down from changing after her riding +lesson—received them gayly. They had a joke between themselves, and it +was not long in coming out. They had been compelled to dodge Lady Sarah; +only a bolt up a side road had prevented them from meeting her carriage +face to face just outside Breysgate Park.</p> + +<p>"You're playing truants, I'm afraid!" said Jenny, but with no air of +rebuke.</p> + +<p>Loft announced lunch; we went in without waiting for Margaret. She did +not appear till we had been eating for ten minutes. By that time Jenny +had both her guests well in hand. If her manner to Dormer was cordial, +yet it lacked the touch of intimacy, of old-time friendliness, which she +had for Lacey. But neither was she any longer so candidly Lacey's +friend—and so definitely nothing else—as she had once thought it +politic to become. She did not now hold her wiles in leash; she loosed +them in pursuit of him, even as in the earliest days of their +acquaintance.</p> + +<p>The door opened. Jenny's eyes flew quickly to it; she stopped talking +and seemed to wait for something. Margaret came running in, her hair +bright in the summer sun, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks glowing—the +very picture of radiant youth and beauty. Only a few feet separated me +from Lacey. I heard him say "By Jove!" half under his breath.</p> + +<p>Jenny heard, too. "Here's Margaret," she said. The girl ran to her, took +her hand, and began to make a thousand excuses for being late.</p> + +<p>"And, after all the rest, that nice clergyman stopped me on the road and +talked to me!"</p> + +<p>"You mean Mr. Alison? He stopped you?" Jenny looked interested. "What +did he say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing—only that he'd known my father, and that he hoped I was +very happy. Of course I am—with you!"</p> + +<p>"There's your place—between Mr. Dormer and Austin. Sit down, or Loft +won't give you any lunch."</p> + +<p>Between Dormer and me was opposite Jenny and Lacey—Chat and I each +sitting at an end of the oblong table. Jenny showed no remission in her +efforts to keep Lacey amused—indeed she rather engrossed him, and the +other four of us talked together. But from time to time his eyes strayed +across the table—and once he caught Miss Margaret studying his handsome +face with evident interest. The girl blushed. Jenny was smiling +contentedly as she regained her guest's attention.</p> + +<p>Dormer made great play with the pretty girl. It did not take long to +discover that this was Dormer's way. He had the gift—one enviable to +slow-tongued folk like myself—of a perpetual flow of small talk; this +he peppered copiously—I must confess to thinking that it needed +seasoning—with flirtation, more or less obvious—generally more. He +plied Margaret with the product, much to her apparent liking; she was at +her prettiest in her timid fencing with his compliments, her shy +enjoyment, her consciously daring little excursions into coquetry. But +Dormer's eyes were not all for his own side of the table either; he made +an effort or two to draw Jenny into conversation; he often looked her +way. With those two in the room together, a man might well be puzzled to +decide on which face to turn his eyes. Jenny assisted Dormer's choice. +She would not be drawn by him—she was still for Lacey. The two couples +talked, Chat and I falling out of the conversation; we could not +condescend to call commonplaces across the space that divided us, and +Chat and I seldom talked anything else to one another.</p> + +<p>After lunch we all went into the garden—except Chat, who always took a +siesta when she could. Here Jenny carried off Dormer, to see the +hothouses—it was time to be civil to him. I fancied that she would not +be vexed if I left Lacey and Margaret to a <i>tête-à-tête</i>, so, when they +proposed strolling, I was firm for sitting, and we parted company. I +could watch them as I sat. The two were getting on very well. For a +little while I watched. My cigarette came to an end—I followed Chat's +excellent example and fell asleep.</p> + +<p>I awoke to find Jenny standing beside me. She was pulling a rose to +pieces and smiling thoughtfully. Our guests had, it seemed, departed; +Margaret was visible in a hammock under a tree at the other end of the +lawn.</p> + +<p>"I've really had to be quite shy with Mr. Dormer in the hothouses," she +said. "He's such a ladies' man! And he's gone away with the impression +that that's the sort of man I like. He has pointed out that Hingston is +only fifteen miles off, and that he has a motor car and can do the +distance in twenty-two—or was it twenty-seven?—minutes, so that lots +can be seen of him, if desired. He has hinted that this is, after all, a +lonely life for me—for a person of my gifts and attractions—and has +congratulated me on the growing prosperity of Catsford. What do you make +of all that, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you told him that you wanted a bit of his land?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cartmell would never have forgiven me if I'd let slip such a +propitious opportunity. I did."</p> + +<p>"It rather looks as if he wanted all of yours," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Then he communicated to me the impression that, in his opinion, Lord +Lacey was considerably smitten with Eunice Aspenick and that the match +might come off. In return for which I managed, I believe, to convey to +him a sort of twofold impression—first, that I might possibly marry +myself—some day; secondly, that, when I did, Margaret would be +dismissed with a decent provision—a small addition to the little income +which she has from her father. For reasons of my own I laid some stress +on the latter half of that impression, Austin." She was looking over to +where Margaret lay in the hammock. "She's very young," she said softly, +"and of course, the man's glib and in a way good-looking."</p> + +<p>"Are you beginning to feel a little responsible? It's easy work, +marrying off other people!"</p> + +<p>"But they make such a beautiful pair!" she pleaded. She did not mean +Margaret and Dormer. "I love just to see them together. And the idea of +it! How Leonard would have laughed! Can't you hear that great big +outrageous guffaw of his breaking out over it? But you don't think I'd +force her?"</p> + +<p>"No. And he's a fine lad. You wouldn't be going far wrong."</p> + +<p>"She's very young. She might—make a mistake. I thought Mr. Dormer had +better understand her real situation."</p> + +<p>"O mistress of many wiles, I understand! But is Lacey to share the +impression?"</p> + +<p>"I should like him to—up to the last possible minute. And then—the +fairy godmother! It's all on the old-fashioned lines—but I like it." +Her voice dropped. "The old, mischievous, none-too-respectable fairy +godmother, Austin!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose the fairy godmother seemed not so very old herself—that +mischief proved attractive—that——?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible—with her here! Oh, you really think so, only you're always +so polite. But anything short of—of that—would be quite within the +four corners of the scheme." She laughed at me, at her schemes, at +herself; yet about the two last she was in deadly earnest. So she grew +grave again in a moment. "He'd have to get over so much to make that +seem even possible."</p> + +<p>Well, that was true enough. Fillingford's son—the accomplice of my +evening expedition to Hatcham Ford! There was something to get over, +certainly. But there was something to get over in the other plan, too.</p> + +<p>"Still, I don't mind its seeming—just possible," said Jenny. She looked +at me with an air of wondering how I should take what she was going to +say. "It might just be made to seem—a danger!"</p> + +<p>"This is walking on a razor's edge, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—it is rather. Mr. Dormer's got to help a little. I don't like him, +Austin."</p> + +<p>"No more do I—since you mention it. And you'd have no pity for him +either?"</p> + +<p>"I shall get his bit of land, but he won't get all mine," said Jenny, +serenely pitiless. "He plays his game—I'll play mine. We neither of us +stake our hearts, I think. You can't stake what you've never had—or +what you've lost." She stood silent for a minute, looking down to where +the smoke of busy Catsford rose in a blue mist between us and the +horizon. "He's just ridiculous, but he serves my turn. No need to talk +any more about him!"</p> + +<p>Margaret tumbled herself out of the hammock with a grace which was +entirely accidental and narrowly skirted a disaster to propriety. She +came across the lawn, yawning and laughing. "I've been asleep, Jenny," +she cried, "and having wonderful dreams!"</p> + +<p>Jenny's face lit up with an extraordinary tenderness. She drew the girl +to her and stroked her hair. "Why did you wake up? It's a pity to wake +up when the dreams are wonderful."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but waking up's great fun, too! Everything's great fun at +Breysgate."</p> + +<p>Stroking Margaret's hair, Jenny looked down at me in my wicker +arm-chair. "I've been having fun, too—telling Austin secrets!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me some."</p> + +<p>"The day after to-morrow—or just about then!" laughed Jenny.</p> + +<p>The ensuing days were full of triumph for Jenny. Her munificent donation +was gratefully and enthusiastically accepted; a new Committee, composed +of members of the Corporation, was appointed to take in hand the +erection of the Institute immediately; there was no danger of this +Committee's adjourning <i>sine die</i>! Her holiday and her feast went off in +a blaze of success. She received a wonderful ovation from the town; +there was no appearance of her being ostracized by the county. She came +out to greet her guests, supported by the Aspenicks, by Dormer, even by +Lacey; it was significant that the last-named should appear on so public +an occasion. His presence compromised the attitude of Fillingford Manor; +though its master was not there, though the lady who presided over the +house was severely absent, the heir was there—and there, evidently, on +terms of friendship and intimacy.</p> + +<p>Lady Aspenick came, I think, not merely because she was committed to +civility; she also desired to spy out the land, to get some light on the +situation. Lacey's visits to Breysgate were becoming frequent; they had +not passed unnoticed by vigilant eyes in the neighborhood, and the +report of them had reached Overington Grange. Did Lacey brave the +disapproval of his family for nothing? While Eunice joined the gay group +which followed Jenny as she made a progress round the tables, Lady +Aspenick fell to my share.</p> + +<p>"All this is a great triumph for Jenny's friends," she remarked. "Those +of us who have been her friends all through, I mean."</p> + +<p>"It must be very gratifying to you, Lady Aspenick."</p> + +<p>"I have been loyal," she said with candid pride, "and I am loyal still, +although, as I told you, I can't approve of everything she does." Her +eyes were on the group in front of us, where Lacey walked between Eunice +and Margaret. Dormer was escorting Jenny, with the new Mayor of +Breysgate on her other side.</p> + +<p>"She has her own way of doing things," I murmured. "Sometimes they come +off."</p> + +<p>"Amyas Lacey here, too! How is that regarded at the Manor?"</p> + +<p>"You ask me—but I shouldn't wonder if you knew better than I do," said +I, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, I admit I know Lady Sarah's views; she makes no secret of them. I +was thinking of—well, of his father, you know. He doesn't share these +visits!"</p> + +<p>"If common gossip was right, there's an obvious explanation of that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it seems to me to apply to the son almost as strongly." She +turned her eyeglasses sharply round to my face. "Having jilted his +father——"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say I believed the common gossip; but even the fact of its +having existed might make him shy of——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, we both know a good deal more than that about it! However, +let's hope they'll make it up—through Amyas. He can act as peacemaker, +and then we may have the wedding after all!"</p> + +<p>Lady Aspenick's voice failed to carry conviction. It was borne in upon +me that she did not believe in her own forecast—that she knew very +well, from information gleaned in the enemy's camp, that there was small +chance of Lacey's effecting a reconciliation, and none at all of a +marriage between Jenny and Fillingford coming off. She threw out the +suggestion as a feeler; another possible alliance was really in her +mind. She might elicit some hint about that; if people spoke truly, she +was interested in the subject for her daughter's sake. Was it possible +that Jenny, having lost the father, would annex the son? That was in her +mind. It would be rather a strong thing to do—but then, Lady Aspenick +would retort, "Only look at the things she does!" The woman who brought +Margaret Octon to Breysgate—would she hesitate at capturing young Lacey +if she could?</p> + +<p>"I can only say that in my opinion it's not at all likely, and has never +entered Miss Driver's head."</p> + +<p>"Then it's very funny that Amyas should come here so much!"</p> + +<p>"Young men like young company," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"It's not quite the only house in the neighborhood where there's young +company," she retorted sharply. My remark had certainly rather +overlooked the claims of Overington Grange.</p> + +<p>She said no more, perhaps because her fish—my humble self—did not +bite, perhaps merely because at that moment the Mayor of Catsford began +to make a speech, highly eulogistic of Jenny and all her works. Lady +Aspenick listened—or at least looked on (listening was not easy)—with +an air which was distinctly critical.</p> + +<p>Dormer was remarkably jubilant that day—perhaps as a result of his +exchange of impressions with Jenny in the hothouses. He danced +attendance on her constantly and was evidently only too glad to be seen +in her train. Jenny received his homage with the utmost graciousness; he +might well flatter himself that he stood high in her favor. There was a +familiarity in his manner toward her which grated on my nerves; it had +been there from his first meeting with her. It looked as though he +thought that her past history gave him an advantage, and entitled him to +consider himself a better match for her than he would have been held to +be for another woman in her position. Perhaps Jenny would have had no +right to resent such an idea; at any rate she showed no signs of +resenting his behavior. She let him almost monopolize her—saving the +Mayor's official rights—leaving Lacey to the care of Eunice Aspenick +and of Margaret.</p> + +<p>Lacey looked much less happy than might have been expected in such +company. He appeared restless and ill at ease. When we were having a +smoke together, while the ladies were getting ready for dinner (which +was to be eaten hastily and followed by fireworks), I got some light on +the cause of his discontent.</p> + +<p>"It's curious," he observed over his cigar, "how disagreeable girls can +manage to be to one another without saying a word that you can lay hold +of."</p> + +<p>"It is," said I. "Who's been exercising the gentle art this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Eunice Aspenick! You saw us three walking together? Well, we must +have been walking like that—round the tables, you know—for the best +part of an hour. Upon my honor, I don't believe she once addressed a +remark directly to Miss Octon! And when Miss Octon spoke to her, she +answered through me. And why?"</p> + +<p>"The tandem whip, I suppose—hereditary feud and that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"It's not Miss Octon's fault; it's a shame to make her responsible."</p> + +<p>"There doesn't seem to be any other reason."</p> + +<p>He pulled his trim little fair mustache; I rather think that he blushed +a little. "I don't like it, and I've a good mind to tell Eunice so. Miss +Octon is Miss Driver's guest, just as we are, and on that ground anyhow +entitled to civility."</p> + +<p>I believe that he carried out his possibly chivalrous but certainly +unwise purpose, and no doubt he got a snubbing for his pains. At any +rate he had a short interview with Eunice just before we dined—and, +afterwards, spoke to her no more that evening. While the fireworks +blazed and the rockets roared, he placed himself between Jenny and +Margaret. I managed to get near Margaret on the other side, just for the +love of seeing the beauty of the girl's face as she watched the show +with an intensity of excitement and delight. She clapped her hands, she +laughed, she almost crowed in exultation. Once or twice she caught Lacey +by the arm, as you see a child do with its father when the pleasure is +really too much to hold all by itself. Jenny seemed to heed her very +little—and to heed Amyas Lacey even less; she looked decidedly +ruminative, gazing with a grave face at the spectacle, her clean-cut +pallid profile standing out like a coin against the blaze of light. +Amyas glanced at her now and again, but he was not proof against the +living, exuberant, ebullient joy that bubbled and gurgled on his other +side. Presently he abandoned himself altogether to the charm of it, fell +under its sway, and became partaker of its mood. Now they were two +children together, their shouts of laughter, of applause, of simulated +alarm, filling the air. Grim looked the Aspenick ladies, very scornful +that elegant gentleman Mr. Dormer! Margaret had never a thought for +them; if Lacey had, he cast it away.</p> + +<p>Thus they were when the show ended—but its ending did not check their +talk and their laughter. Jenny rose, refreshments were spread within; to +call Lacey's attention to her, she touched his shoulder. He turned round +suddenly—with a start.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, I beg your pardon! I—I didn't know you were still there, +Miss Driver."</p> + +<p>"There's something to eat indoors," said Jenny. "If you want it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Jenny, dear, it's much nicer here. I'm sure Lord Lacey isn't +hungry!"</p> + +<p>He was not. Jenny turned away. As she passed me, she gave me an odd sort +of smile, amused, satisfied, just a trifle—the least trifle—scornful. +"Success number one!" she whispered. "But it's just as well that I'm not +a vain woman, Austin!"</p> + +<p>"You could undo it all in ten minutes if you liked."</p> + +<p>Jenny's smile broadened a little—and her eyes confessed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>NATHAN AND DAVID</h3> + + +<p>The state of affairs at Fillingford Manor must have been profoundly +uncomfortable. The father and his sister banned and boycotted Breysgate; +the son spent there every hour of his leisure—he had much now, for the +Parliament session was over—and made small secret of the fact that he +cared very little to be anywhere else. Yet care came with him; he had +more than a lover's proverbial moodiness. He never spoke of his home; it +was the silence of conscious guilt; at Fillingford Manor, no doubt, he +avoided all mention of us. More than once he took refuge at Hingston and +paid his visits from there in company with his host; it is not probable +that Fillingford Manor was deceived by this maneuver, but the daily +strain of awkwardness was avoided. Dormer was complaisant. That young +man had sharp eyes; he soon began to be at least very doubtful whether +he need fear Lacey as a rival; when the two were at Breysgate together, +it was Dormer's society now that Jenny sought. She would pair off with +him, leaving Margaret and Lacey together. He took from this some +encouragement, but he had also a lurking fear that Jenny was angling for +Fillingford again, hoping some day to get at him through his son. He +would make allusions, in Lacey's absence, to Fillingford's notorious +obstinacy in all matters—how that he never changed his mind, was never +open to reason, never forgot nor forgave. The more open hints were +bestowed on me—for transmission to Jenny; the more covert he risked +conveying to her direct. She would agree with a smile of resignation, +and redouble her graciousness to Dormer. Yet the graciousness had +limits. She kept him at his distance—eager, yet hesitating, and fearful +to take the plunge. She had need of him still for a while longer; under +the cover he afforded she was gradually, dexterously, unobtrusively, +sheering off from Lacey.</p> + +<p>The operation needed skill and pertinacity; for at first the young man +resisted it vigorously. The more delicately she worked, the less +conscious was he that she was working at all. Her avoidance of him +seemed to him like his neglect of her; when he had, by her maneuvers, +been kept out of her company for an hour together, his loyalty accused +him of a lack of attention and of gratitude. He would come back penitent +from Margaret's side, and turn again his chivalrous devotion to Jenny; +he was remorseful at finding how happy he had been with another—at +beginning to find that he was even happier. He did not impute to her any +jealousy, or resentment at the fickleness of a lover, but he feared that +she would be hurt by any falling-off in the affectionate homage which he +had been wont to pay. Insensibly he was courting Margaret—but always by +Jenny's permission. If it had been her will to summon him back to her +side by his allegiance, he would have come; but, as day followed day, +more and more reluctantly. Margaret's spell was gaining in power.</p> + +<p>It could not well be otherwise. Youth turned to youth, the fresh heart +to the fresh. Over Margaret hung no shadow; she was unspotted from the +world. In her there was no calculation, and no scheming; all was +instinctive and spontaneous. Her love leaped forth unashamed because it +was unconscious of its very self. The fresh strange joy that painted +life in new colors was unanalyzed. She was just so much happier, so much +more gay, finding the days so much better. She did not ask why, but gave +herself whole-heartedly to the new delight. With Jenny effaced by her +own choice, this unmeant challenge fired Lacey to response; their +fleet-footed feelings raced against one another, still neck and neck as +they drew near the goal. A little further, and they would find +themselves at it. It would then be time for Jenny to act.</p> + +<p>The world misjudged her—which was just what she wished. Opinion was +clear and well-nigh unanimous; for Jenny rehabilitation lay in marrying +and could not be complete without it: then she meant to marry—Lacey if +she could, Dormer if she must. There lay the explanation of the two +young men being always at Breysgate! Lacey was the object of Jenny's +spring; if she missed the mark, she would fall back on Dormer. But would +she miss it? Gossip was rife, eager, interested, over this, and over +this opinions varied; much is forgiven to sixty thousand a year, said +some; there was one thing which Fillingford Manor would never overlook, +said others. But on the whole it was admitted that there was great +danger of her success; it was speculated on with the fearful joy that +the prospect of a social disaster has the power to excite. Nobody +thought of Margaret, or that she had any part to play in the matter, All +eyes were on Jenny; it could not be many days before news came! There +had hardly been more excitement over the flight itself.</p> + +<p>Besides all the gossipers and watchers, there was one man who +acted—according to his lights, whether they were right or wrong. I have +hinted that Alison took a view of his office and its responsibilities +which was at least fully adequate—and seemed to a good many people more +than that. He was not content to stand by and see what he thought wrong +done without a protest. It was nothing to him that he might be told to +mind his own business: he would very confidently challenge your +definition of his business and your idea of its limits; he would be very +sure what his orders were and where they came from. Moreover he had seen +the affair from the other side. He was intimate at Fillingford Manor.</p> + +<p>He wrote to Jenny asking if he might call on her; he wanted to have a +few words with her on a matter of importance relating to herself. He +added that he was acting entirely on his own responsibility and in no +way at the suggestion of any other person.</p> + +<p>Jenny twisted his letter in her hands with an air of irresolution, +almost of shrinking.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to see him," she said to me plaintively. "It won't +be—comfortable. He's let me severely alone up to now. Can't he let me +alone still? I suppose he'll lecture me horribly! If there were anything +to be got by it! But there isn't."</p> + +<p>"He sent you a pleasant message about Margaret," I reminded her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, so he did. And I don't want him to think me afraid. I'll see him. +But I'm afraid of him. Austin, you must be there."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he'll expect that."</p> + +<p>"Never mind what he expects. If I see him, it's on my own conditions. I +want you there. It's cowardly, but I do. Tell him he can come, but that +I propose to see him in your presence."</p> + +<p>So she would have it, being obviously disturbed at the idea of the +interview. Was he coming to her as Nathan came to David—to denounce her +sin? He was no doubt wrong about her intentions for the future, but he +was fatally right in his opinion about what she had done in the past. He +had a <i>locus standi</i>, too, or so he would conceive—a professional right +to tell her the truth.</p> + +<p>"I'm spoiled. I haven't had half enough of the disagreeables," she said +with a woeful smile.</p> + +<p>There was truth in that—so far as external things went, visible and +palpable pains and penalties. She had not paid full toll. Luck had been +with her and had afforded her a case—not a good one, but good enough to +give her courage a handle. Her other advantages—her attractiveness, her +position, her wealth, she had used with dexterity and without scruple to +protect her from punishment. She had cajoled and she had bribed—both +successfully; only the irreconcilables remained unreconciled. To no +small extent she had jockeyed outraged morality—in externals. Many +people did it even more successfully—by not being even half found out, +and therefore not put on their defense at all. But for one who had been +at least half found out, against whom circumstantial evidence was +terribly strong although direct proof might be lacking, she had come off +very cheaply. Nobody about her told her so; we spoiled her. She was +afraid that Alison, in manner, very likely even in words, would tell her +now, face to face. Being taken to task was terribly against the grain +with her. Only Jenny might punish Jenny—and the blows must fall in +secret.</p> + +<p>Alison came to my house first a quarter of an hour before the time of +his appointment with Jenny. He was grave and silent; in the spirit, +though naturally not in the flesh, he wore full canonicals; the +consciousness of his office was about him. I had grown—and I may as +well confess it—into an intellectual hostility to all this, a +skepticism which prompted rebellion. But he was doing what he disliked +very much in obedience to his view of duty. It is churlish to show +disrespect to a man acting in that way, simply because one may consider +his view incorrect or exaggerated. I had once charged him with wanting +to burn people; let me not fall into the temptation of wanting to burn +him—or where stood my boasted liberality of thought?</p> + +<p>"I'm not sorry that you're to be with us, Austin," he said, as we walked +up to the Priory. "Interfere if I show any signs of growing hot."</p> + +<p>"If she tells you the truth, you won't grow hot. But if you grow hot, +she won't tell you the truth," I answered.</p> + +<p>"I don't go in my own strength," he reminded me with gentle gravity.</p> + +<p>On the terrace, by the door, Margaret lay on a long wicker chair. She +sprang up when we came near, blushing in her artless fashion at the +encounter. Alison's stern-set face flashed out into a tender delighted +smile. "God bless the pretty child!" he murmured as he went forward and +shook hands with her. She had her little pet dog with her, and they +talked a minute or two about it. He was country-bred and had dog-lore; +she listened with an interest almost reverential. "Now!" he said with a +sigh, as he left her to go into the house. He had welcomed that little +interlude of brightness.</p> + +<p>Jenny received him with stately dignity; if Nathan came to David, still +let him remember that David was a King! She rose for a moment from the +high-backed elbow-chair in which she sat; she did not offer her hand +but, with a slight inclination of her head, indicated a chair. Then, +seated again, she awaited his opening with the stillness of a forced +composure. She might be afraid; she would show no fear. She faced him +full where he sat, and challenged the light that fell on her face from +the big window. I stood leaning against the mantelpiece, a few paces +from her on her left.</p> + +<p>"In coming to you, Miss Driver," he said, "I'm doing an unconventional +thing. The circumstances seem to me to call for it; it's the only thing +left to do, and nothing will be gained unless I face it and do it +plainly. I want to tell you something about a household which you have +no opportunity of seeing—something about Fillingford Manor. I go there, +you know; you don't."</p> + +<p>"No—not now," said Jenny.</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about Lady Sarah. She is not, perhaps, very wise or very +generous. Yet even for her allowances are to be made."</p> + +<p>"I make such allowance as consists in absolute indifference, Mr. +Alison."</p> + +<p>"That's beyond your right—but no matter. In that house there is a +father who loves his son and who respects himself. The father is +miserable and humiliated. Do you recognize any responsibility in +yourself for that?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Fillingford once wanted to marry me—for my money, I think."</p> + +<p>"I think you do him less than justice. Never mind that. I answer by +asking you why he doesn't want to marry you now—even with your money."</p> + +<p>"A very palpable hit!" said Jenny with a slight smile. "But did you come +here only to say things like that? I know you think you have a right to +say them—but what's the good?"</p> + +<p>"The good is if they make you think—and I have a right to say them, +though I fear your bitterness made me put them too harshly. If so, I beg +your pardon. In whatever way I put them, the facts are there. Father and +son are strangers in heart already; very soon they will be enemies if +you persist in what you are doing."</p> + +<p>"What am I doing?" asked Jenny, smiling again.</p> + +<p>"Evil," he replied uncompromisingly. "Wanton evil if you don't mean to +marry this young man—deliberate evil if you do."</p> + +<p>"Why deliberate evil if I do?"</p> + +<p>"You have no right to marry the son of that man. It would create a +position unnatural, cruel, hideous."</p> + +<p>"Alison, Alison!" I murmured. I thought that he was now "growing hot." +But he took no notice of me—nor did Jenny.</p> + +<p>"An inevitable and perpetual quarrel between father and son, a perpetual +humiliation for a man who trusted you—and was wrong in doing it! Dare +you do that—with what there is lying between you and Lord Fillingford?"</p> + +<p>"What is there?"</p> + +<p>"At least deceit, broken faith, trust betrayed, honor threatened. Is +there no more?"</p> + +<p>Jenny looked at him now with somber thoughtfulness.</p> + +<p>"We're not children," he went on. "If there is no more, what was easier +than to say so, to lay scandal to rest, to give an account of yourself? +Wasn't that easy?"</p> + +<p>"Lying is generally pretty easy," said Jenny.</p> + +<p>He raised his hands in the air and let them fall in a despairing +gesture. "You yourself have said it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have said it, Mr. Alison. You've always believed it. Now you +know it. We're face to face."</p> + +<p>"Then face to face I say to you that you're no fit wife for that young +man."</p> + +<p>"No fit companion either, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"I'll say no more than I need say. A sinner who repents is a fit +companion for the angels, and joyfully welcomed. Haven't you read it? I +am on your duty, not to God—I pray Him that He may teach you that—but +to the honorable man whom you deceived and humiliated. You charge him +with having wanted to marry you for your money. Take it on that basis, +if you will. What did you want to marry him for? Was it love? No; his +title, his position. Was the exchange unfair? The bargain was fair, if +not very pretty. Even to that bargain you were grossly false. If I'm +wrong in my facts, say so: but if my facts are right, in very decency +let his house—let his son—alone."</p> + +<p>"Your facts are right," she said. "I was false to the bargain. Have you +said all you have to say, Mr. Alison?"</p> + +<p>"I have done—save to say that what I have said to you I have said to +nobody else. I am no chatterer. What I've said to-day I've said in +virtue of my office. What you have admitted to me I treat as told me in +the confessional."</p> + +<p>She bowed her head slightly, accepting his pledge. "I know that," she +said. Then she turned to me, smiling sadly. "I'm afraid we must tell him +our plans, Austin—in strict confidence?" She did not wait for an +answer, but went on to him immediately: "I'll speak to you on the terms +on which you have already heard me—as though I were in the +confessional."</p> + +<p>"What you are pleased to say is safe—but it's your deeds I want, not +your words."</p> + +<p>"My words will make my deeds plain to you," she answered, and then sat +silent for a while, resting her cheek on her hand, looking very steadily +in his face. At last she spoke in a low even voice:</p> + +<p>"I don't admit your authority; and yet, as Austin knows, I shrank from +this meeting. You claim the right to lay your hands on my very soul, to +tear it out and look at it. I don't like that. I resent it. And what +good does it do? We remain too far apart. I shall make to you no apology +for what I have done; I don't desire to defend myself. The thing is very +different to me, and you wouldn't even try to see the difference. Yet it +is not less a great thing to me—as great as to you, though different. +Yes, a great thing and a decisive one. I may look at it wrongly—I don't +look at it lightly."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to be able to think that—at least," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"I like you, and I want to work with you in the future. That's why I've +listened to you, and why I now tell you what's in my mind—why I have +come face to face with you. There was no obligation on me; my soul's my +own, not yours, nor the world's. But I have chosen to do it. You came +here, Mr. Alison, to tell me that I was not a fit wife for Lord +Fillingford's son?"</p> + +<p>He assented with a nod and a gentle motion of his hand.</p> + +<p>"I agree with you there—with all you've said about that—but I go much +farther. I don't think myself a fit wife for any man's son."</p> + +<p>He looked up at her with a quick jerk of his head.</p> + +<p>"I could go to no man as his wife without telling my story. And if I +told it, what would he say? He might say, 'Go away!' Probably most men +would, though there are some I know who, I think, would not. Or he might +say, 'That's all over—forget all that. Be happy with me.' If he said +that, what should I answer? I should have to say, 'It's not all over; +it's not a wretched thing in the past that I've bitterly repented of and +may now hope to be allowed to forget and to be forgiven for. It's not +over and never will be. For me it's decisive; it will always be there. +And it will always be there for you, too, and you will hate it.'" She +spoke the last words with a strong intensity. "'Always something to be +ashamed of, something to hide, something breeding a secret unconquerable +grudge!' That's handicapping marriage very heavily—even though my +husband were not son to Lord Fillingford! Do you know that it was only +with the bitterest fear that I agreed to marry Leonard himself? Should I +easily marry another man now?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask her to marry you—it only worries her." The words of Leonard +Octon's letter came back; I could imagine the grimly humorous smile with +which he penned that bit of advice to me.</p> + +<p>She went on with a sudden suppressed passion: "I want none of it—none +of it at all. I can make a happy life for myself. I can be useful—even +if I have to lie—in deeds if not in words—before I can be allowed to +be useful. Why am I to seek unhappiness, to seek fearfulness, to create +misery? The burden I bear now my own shoulders are broad enough to +carry. I had sooner carry it myself than have another groaning under it +at my side!"</p> + +<p>"Cast your burden upon God, and He will bear it. This is penitence, if +only you would open the eyes of your heart!"</p> + +<p>"Call it what you like," she said, a trifle impatiently. "Let it be +pride—pride for Leonard and pride for myself; let it be calculation, +precaution, fear, independence—what you will. You shall do your own +name-giving, and you may give the name that satisfies your theories. But +I have given you my names for it and my account of what I feel. Feeling +that, am I eager to marry Amyas Lacey? I'm not eager, Mr. Alison."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause. The sound of a horse trotting up to the +house fell on my ears; Jenny gave me a quick glance. Alison seemed not +to notice; he was looking down at the floor, deep in thought. Jenny's +eyes returned to his face; she watched him with a smile as he sat +pondering her explanation.</p> + +<p>"I respect your conclusion," he said at last. "Even if there were +nothing but the worldly point of view, I should say it was wise—as wise +as it is severe. I hope you may find better reasons still for it, and +new sources of strength to carry it out."</p> + +<p>"You shall hope—and we shall see," she answered, not carelessly, but +rather with an honest skepticism which was willing to respect his +prepossessions, but would pay them no insincere homage.</p> + +<p>"There is more for me to do than merely to hope—but enough of that just +now." He smiled a little, for the first time in the interview. "I +mustn't be too instant out of season. But if that is your conclusion, +Miss Driver, how does it fit in with your conduct?"</p> + +<p>"It fits in very well," she replied.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't be the general opinion. It's not the opinion at +Fillingford Manor." He leaned back in his chair, looking rather weary +and discouraged. "You're still minded to fence with me, I see," he said.</p> + +<p>"No, I'll deal with you plainly—but I rely on your pledge. Nothing goes +beyond these walls—neither to Fillingford Manor nor elsewhere?"</p> + +<p>"I am bound to that: but pretenses are dangerous."</p> + +<p>"It will soon be time to end this one."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, merry voices floated into the room from the terrace +outside. Jenny listened with a happy smile, and then went on, "You want +to know what I mean by my conduct? Why I make Fillingford Manor unhappy, +and all my neighbors mad with curiosity?" She laughed as she rose from +her chair. "Come to the window here," she said to Alison.</p> + +<p>They went to the window, and I followed. There, in the mellow sun of the +late afternoon, Margaret lay on her long chair, her brown hair touched +to gold, her merry laugh breaking out again, her face upturned to +Lacey's. He stood beside her, his eyes set on her face, a smile of +admiration plain to see on his lips. It was a fair picture of young +lovers—and the complacent artist whose hand had designed it turned +triumphantly to Alison.</p> + +<p>"You ask what I mean. I mean that," she said.</p> + +<p>Alison gave a violent start. "Miss Octon! And Amyas?" He looked for a +moment at the pair, then turned back to Jenny, rather helplessly. "But +that's pretty nearly as bad as the other!" he blurted out.</p> + +<p>"Who speaks now?" she asked. "The priest in his office? Or Mr. Worldly +Wiseman?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>THE ALTERNATIVE</h3> + + +<p>Alison watched the maid and the young man for half a minute, then drew +back a little way into the room; Jenny followed as far as the piano and +stood leaning her elbows on the top of it, smiling at him in mockery.</p> + +<p>"That's a fair question, perhaps. But the idea is—staggering!"</p> + +<p>Jenny raised her brows. "But why? Has she practiced deceit and betrayed +trust? Has she broken faith or threatened anybody's honor? Or done worse +things still? Is she no fit wife for a young man? What have you against +her, Mr. Alison? Why is this pretty nearly as bad as the other?"</p> + +<p>Alison was sadly put about and flustered. His confident air of authority +vanished with the unimpeachable ground on which it had been founded. He +had shifted his base; the new base failed him. "Surely you must see!" he +protested.</p> + +<p>"I see a dear beautiful girl and a charming handsome young man of high +degree," answered Jenny in gay mischief, "and they look very much in +love with one another. Is that dreadful?"</p> + +<p>"It's quite a different case, of course—but really, really, just as +hopeless!"</p> + +<p>"You'd better not call this hopeless—neither you nor anybody else who +has anything to say to it!"</p> + +<p>"Octon's daughter!" He ejaculated the words in a low murmur, flinging +his hands out wide.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it!" said Jenny, her smile getting harder, and with a +rather vicious look in her eyes. "That's why, isn't it? That's why she's +not good enough for Amyas Lacey, not good enough to be mistress of +Fillingford Manor! There's nothing else against her? Only—she's Leonard +Octon's daughter! Well, now, I say to you that that shall not be against +her. It shall be for her—mightily for her. To that she shall owe +everything; that shall give her all she wants. If you have any +influence, don't use it against her. Use it for her, back her up. It +will be wiser in the interests of the friends whom you're so concerned +for." She left the piano and came into the middle of the room, facing +him. "Because it's the alternative to that unnatural hideous thing of +which you came here to speak—and spoke so plainly. If I'm not much +mistaken, I can turn this thing the way I choose. And I tell you that in +spite of all you've said, and in spite of all I've said, your friends +will be wise to accept the lesser evil. Margaret is better than me, at +all events!"</p> + +<p>She was on her high horse now. Very handsome she looked, with a glowing +color in her cheeks; her voice was full of temper, hard-held. It was the +turning point of the scheme which she was working out; through Alison +she launched her ultimatum to Fillingford: "Margaret or myself—there is +no other alternative."</p> + +<p>Alison was recovering himself. He dropped into a chair and looked up at +her commanding figure with a smile of kindness—with an admiration wrung +from him by her <i>coup</i>.</p> + +<p>"You're really wonderful," he told her. "I'll say that for you—and I'll +be as worldly as you like for a minute."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do try for once. There is such a thing as this world."</p> + +<p>"Then—even setting aside the obvious objection, the objection our +friends at the Manor are bound to feel—Lacey is Lacey, and will be +Fillingford. The girl—I think her as charming as you do—comes from +nowhere and has, I suppose, nothing?"</p> + +<p>"She'll come from Breysgate Priory—and not empty-handed."</p> + +<p>"Of course you'd behave kindly to her, but——"</p> + +<p>Back to Octon's phrase went Jenny—back to the words in which he had +bequeathed his "legacy" to her. Her face softened. "I shall do the +handsome thing by her," she said in a low voice. "Can't you understand +why I do this?" she asked him. "You were one of the few people who +seemed to understand why I brought her here—to be with me. Can't you +understand this?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can—a little. But is it fair to Lord Fillingford?"</p> + +<p>"I can't think always and forever of Lord Fillingford," she told him +impatiently. "He isn't all the world to me. I am thinking of +Leonard—this is all I can do for him now. I'm thinking of the +child—and of myself. I can give up for myself, but this is my +compensation. What I could have she is to have—because she loves Amyas, +and I love her—and because I loved her father. That's what I mean. I +daresay you've some very hard names for it. They made me give up Leonard +once—at any rate behave as if I was ashamed of him. Very well. They +must take Leonard's daughter now—or that worse thing you and I know +of."</p> + +<p>"I'm still on the worldly plane," Alison said, smiling. "You can, of +course, if you're so minded, abolish all objections except the +sentimental. If it's a hundred thousand for an Institute, what mightn't +it be for a whim, Miss Driver?"</p> + +<p>"And what mightn't it be for my dear man who's dead?" said Jenny, very +low.</p> + +<p>He got up, went to her, and took her hands. She did not repel him. He +whispered a word or two to her—of comfort or sympathy, as his manner +indicated. Then he looked round at me. "You've had a hand in this +mischief, I suppose, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we just take our orders in this house," said I.</p> + +<p>"Heaven humble your heart!" he said to her, but now the rebuke was +kindly, almost playful.</p> + +<p>"The present question is of humbling Lord Fillingford's," retorted +Jenny.</p> + +<p>Alison walked back to the window. Jenny gave me a quick nod of +satisfaction; the fight was going well. "Are they still there?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me, yes! He's sat down by her on the ground—looking up, you +know!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can imagine, Mr. Alison."</p> + +<p>"A fine pair!" He turned round with a sigh. "And very fond of one +another! And yet you think you could—? Well, perhaps you could—who +knows?" He seemed to study her thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to, you know—unless I'm driven," said Jenny.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't do it," he told her, with some return of his authority. He +softened the next moment; "I don't believe you would."</p> + +<p>"Run no risks—advise your friends to run none. You've seen enough of me +now to know that it's not safe to conclude I shan't do a thing just +because I think it's wrong—or even because I don't at this moment mean +to do it. I have to reckon with a temper; others had better reckon with +it, too."</p> + +<p>Alison looked at me, pursing up his lips. "I think that she points out a +real danger."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she does," I rejoined. "And you must reckon with it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he murmured, his eyes again searching her face. She nodded her +head ever so slightly at him with a defiant smile. "But losing your +temper oughtn't to be relied on as a resource. Reckon with it if you +like—not on it, Miss Driver."</p> + +<p>Jenny laughed outright at that. "He hits me hard—but it makes no +difference," she said to me. "The plan stands." She turned quickly on +him: "In the end, what do you make of it?" She stretched out her right +hand. "Are even good things soiled if they are taken from that hand?"</p> + +<p>"The pity of it!" he murmured, with a soft intonation of profound +sorrow.</p> + +<p>"The child's a pearl. Let her be happy! Is the beauty of it nothing to +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's much—and your love for her is much." He paused a moment. +"And perhaps I should be overbold to speak against that other love of +yours—now. Maybe it lies beyond the jurisdiction committed to us here +on earth."</p> + +<p>Jenny was, I fear, entirely devoted to earth and, at that moment, to +arranging her own bit of earth as she wanted to have it. She gave him no +thanks for what was, from him, a very considerable concession. Rather +she fastened on his softer mood as affording her an opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Then you oughtn't to be against me," she urged.</p> + +<p>"I'm not against you. This is not my ground—not my business."</p> + +<p>"You might even help me." He looked doubtful at that. "Simply in one +way. There's one little thing you can do easily, though it's difficult +for me. For all the rest, I leave you to do anything or nothing, just as +you think proper."</p> + +<p>"What's the one little thing?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Bring Lord Fillingford and Margaret together. It's very easy—except +for me—and it commits you to nothing. Give her her chance. Anyhow, none +of the trouble's her fault, is it?"</p> + +<p>"There doesn't seem much harm in that."</p> + +<p>"Give him no hint of what I've said. It would be so much better if the +idea could come from himself."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "He seems to be very frightened. +How about some idea of—the lesser evil? He'd still be shocked—but his +mind might be a little prepared."</p> + +<p>"You're altogether too—well, shall I say diplomatic?—for me."</p> + +<p>"Come, come," I interposed, "don't do the Church injustice!"</p> + +<p>"Let's go out," said Jenny. "Wait a minute—I'll get a hat, and join you +on the terrace. I expect Margaret and Amyas are still there." She walked +out of the room with a light buoyant tread. Alison turned to me with a +bewildered gesture of his arms, yet with a reluctant smile on his face.</p> + +<p>"What am I to work on? I don't believe the woman has any conception of +what sin means!"</p> + +<p>"She has a considerable conception of the consequences of her actions."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, as if that was at all the same thing! And what's her +new game? What's she taking me on the terrace for?"</p> + +<p>"To have a cup of tea, I suppose. It's nearly half-past five."</p> + +<p>"I'll never give her credit for being as simple as that!" He was +disapproving, but good-natured—and altogether occupied with Jenny in +his mind. "I shall never get hold of her—I once thought I should. A +pagan—a mere pagan!" He paused again and added with a reluctant +admiration, "A splendid pagan!"</p> + +<p>"There are fifty roads to town—and rather more to heaven," I quoted.</p> + +<p>"Who said that?"</p> + +<p>"William Mackworth Praed—and you ought to have known it."</p> + +<p>"I daresay he knew the roads to town, Austin."</p> + +<p>"In both cases the criticism is obvious—much depends on where you start +from."</p> + +<p>We were on the terrace now. At the other end of it we saw Margaret and +Lacey walking up and down together. The tea table was deserted, and +probably the tea was cold; we were neither of us thinking about it. +Alison had put on his hat, but now he bared his head again to the +evening breeze.</p> + +<p>"Phew, that was a fight!" he said. "And I suppose I'm beaten! But if she +yields to that temper of hers, I'll have no more to do with her."</p> + +<p>"But if she doesn't—if she needn't?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>He made no answer. I saw his eyes wander to the shapely couple that +walked up and down.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't the child have her chance?"</p> + +<p>"You're tempters all in this house!" he declared.</p> + +<p>Margaret and Lacey suddenly came toward us—no, toward Jenny, who had +just come out of the house. She stood there, near the door, quite +quietly—with all her gift of serene immobility brought into play. There +was no signing to them, no beckoning: but at once, out of the midst of +their delighted preoccupation, they came. I permitted myself a discreet +glance at Alison; he was watching. I wondered whether he were any nearer +to a theory of why Jenny had proposed that we should come out on the +terrace.</p> + +<p>Margaret Octon ran on ahead of her companion and caught hold of Jenny's +arm. Lacey came up a second later. I saw Jenny give him a smile of the +fullest understanding. The young man flushed suddenly, then laughed in +an embarrassed way.</p> + +<p>"I know I've been here an awful time. I thought you were never coming +out," he said.</p> + +<p>"The time seemed so long till I came, did it?" asked Jenny. She stooped +and kissed Margaret on the forehead. The girl laughed—very gently, very +happily. Jenny looked at Alison across the few feet that divided the two +small groups. Her look was an appeal—an appeal from the shy happiness +on the girl's face to the natural man that was beneath Alison's +canonicals. "Shan't the girl have her chance?" asked Jenny's eyes.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Alison left my side and walked up to her.</p> + +<p>"I must go now," he said, rather hastily, rather (to tell the truth) as +though he were ashamed of himself. "I think I can manage that little +commission."</p> + +<p>She moved one step forward to meet him. "I shall be very grateful," she +told him in her low, rich, steady tones. "The other way wouldn't have +been nearly so—convenient." Her bright eyes were triumphant. "Soon?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"I can manage it in a day or two at longest. And now good-by. I fear +I've tired you with all my business."</p> + +<p>The young people listened, all innocent of the covert meanings.</p> + +<p>"Let's not be tired till our work's done!" said Jenny.</p> + +<p>She risked that "our" and challenged his dissent. He stood swaying +between reprobation and admiration, between forswearing and alliance, +between sympathy and repulsion. She had so much—yet not that without +which, in his eyes, all else was in the end worthless.</p> + +<p>But she had brought him—of her subtlety she had brought him—on to the +terrace. For no cup of tea tolerably stale! For nothing stale—but that +the imploring, aye, the commanding, unconscious desire, the unmeditated +appeal, the unmeant urgency, of Margaret's heart might work. "Are you +human?" asked Jenny's eyes, traveling with a slow meaning from his face +to Margaret's.</p> + +<p>The cunning of the serpent—the simplicity of the dove! Ah, dear +serpent, what had you in your heart save to make your dove happy? +Another thing—yes! The dove must triumph—for she bore Leonard's +escutcheon, and must bear it victorious against his enemies. The serpent +bade the dove wing her happy way!</p> + +<p>Might not the dove be made bearer also of an olive branch, made a +harbinger of peace? That was the idea which Jenny sought to put in +Alison's mind when she brought him on to the terrace. Could not all that +grace and joy avail to blot out the name she bore? It was only a name—a +thing intangible—a name, if Jenny's plan prospered, soon to be deleted, +buried under a new and newly significant designation. She must bring +memories with her—of old wrong and old humiliation? Could she not +herself destroy even what she brought? She seemed made to do it. Who +could bear a grudge against that simple joyfulness, who resist that +unconscious pleading for oblivion? Alison was to go from the terrace +with a new zeal for the commission that he had undertaken, to go with +his cause much closer to his heart.</p> + +<p>While he was still there, Dormer whizzed up the drive in his motor car. +He had come to meet Lacey at Breysgate, and drive him over to Hingston +to dine and sleep. Lacey affected Hingston for his night quarters more +than ever now—and Dormer generally fetched him from Breysgate; it was +an arrangement convenient to both parties.</p> + +<p>Jenny had told so much truth that she was inclined for a little +mischief. She greeted the newcomer with coquettish demureness, marking, +with a smile and a glance at me, Dormer's ill-concealed surprise at +Alison's presence, and at the good terms on which he seemed to be with +his hostess. Dormer asked for whisky and soda, and I went with him to +minister to his wants.</p> + +<p>"Did Lacey bring the parson?" he asked, after a first eager gulp.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Alison came of his own accord—came to call, you know," I +answered.</p> + +<p>"Did he?" He would obviously have liked to ask more questions. "That's +being neighborly, at all events," he ventured to comment, with a covert +leer. "We shall be seeing Fillingford—or even Lady Sarah—here next!"</p> + +<p>"More unlikely things than that have happened."</p> + +<p>"That's what I always remember," he remarked, nodding sagaciously over +his long tumbler. "What I say is—try your luck, even if it does need a +bit of cheek."</p> + +<p>I had a notion that Dormer was inclining toward the confidential.</p> + +<p>"If it doesn't come off, you're no worse than you were before. If it +does, there you are, by Jove!"</p> + +<p>"I should think that must be every successful man's philosophy. But +what, may I ask, makes this call on your reserve of cheek, +Dormer?—which will, I make no doubt, be equal to it."</p> + +<p>"Wait and see," he answered, with a pronounced wink. Having executed +this operation, his eye turned to Lacey, visible through the window of +the smoking room where we were. "There'll be a row at Fillingford Manor +some day soon—that's my opinion."</p> + +<p>"Let's wait and see about that, too," I suggested mildly. Now he was +trying to make me confidential.</p> + +<p>He winked again. "You're a pretty safe old chap, Austin," he was good +enough to tell me.</p> + +<p>When we returned to the terrace, Lacey was ready to start and, with a +look at his watch, Dormer went up to Jenny to say good-by. During our +brief absence Alison had departed—to set about his commission, as I +hoped.</p> + +<p>"I say, may I come over the day after to-morrow? Shall you be here?" +Dormer asked.</p> + +<p>"The day after to-morrow? Thursday? Yes, I shall be delighted to see +you. I want to know how you're getting on in those negotiations with Mr. +Cartmell, you know." This referred to those farms of his—she had by now +settled on three—which she wanted to round off her frontier.</p> + +<p>Dormer smiled slyly at her. "All right, we'll talk about that, too."</p> + +<p>"Have we any other business?" she asked, lifting her brows in feigned +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Something may crop up," he answered with a laugh. "Till then, Miss +Driver!"</p> + +<p>The young men got in and drove off, Margaret watching and waving her +hand as they went—a salutation copiously acknowledged by Lacey; Dormer +was busy with his handles.</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Alison is prompt with his commission, Thursday may be a busy +day," Jenny remarked, as she sat down in a low chair and lay back in it +with an air of energy relaxed. Sitting down by her, I began to smoke my +pipe. Margaret passed us, smiling, and went into the house.</p> + +<p>"That was a fight," said Jenny presently, "rather a stiff one—but we've +got our stiffest still to come. Lord Fillingford will fight; I must move +all my battalions against him. I shall bribe—perhaps I shall still have +to bully." She sighed. For the moment, the afternoon's struggle done, a +weariness was upon her. She sat silent again for a long while, her brows +knit in meditation or in sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I won't tell anybody else," at last she said. "I have told you, because +I wouldn't have you live here on false pretenses—because you're my +friend. I told Mr. Alison to-day for the reason you heard. I'll tell +nobody else. The old attitude toward the rest! It's really no use +telling—I can't tell it right; I can't put it into words. For myself +even I can't recover the past—can't quite see how I did it—what woman +I was then, or how that woman stands to the woman I am now. A mist has +come between the two."</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, vex yourself no more! Let the dead bury its dead. +Alison has upset you."</p> + +<p>"I'm in the mist—but Leonard isn't. He grows clearer and clearer, and" +(she smiled faintly) "larger and larger. His great kind loving-roughness +fills all my vision. I suppose it filled all my vision then, and so—it +happened!" She turned to me with a quick question. "Do you think I'm +right in the determination I've come to about myself?"</p> + +<p>"I should be far from holding it obligatory either on you or on anyone +else. Good things pass by—and things indifferent—and things bad. The +disturbance passes off the face of life's stream; the stream pursues its +course. There's no duty on you, in my opinion. Yet I think that for +yourself you're right."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you do," she told me. "At that we'll leave it—a fixed point!"</p> + +<p>"Unless Lord Fillingford is very obstinate?"</p> + +<p>As she looked at me, a smile broke slowly over her face. "From the way +you say that, I think you suspect me of having indulged in a little +bluff this afternoon. But I think I was honest. I don't mean to do it, I +should hate doing it—but they might make me angry enough."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you'd ever go through with it. We should have flight +again!"</p> + +<p>"Too awful!" sighed Jenny, frowning, yet almost smiling. She smiled +frankly the next moment, as she turned to me and laid her hand on my +arm. "Do let's agree—you and I—that I'm quite incapable of it and was +bluffing most audaciously!"</p> + +<p>"We'll agree to that with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"So you spoil me—so you go on spoiling me!" she said very gently.</p> + +<p>I went down the hill to my own house, leaving her still sitting there, a +stately solitary figure, revolving many thoughts in the depths of her +mind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>ON ALL GROUNDS—RIDICULOUS!</h3> + + +<p>Alison was prompt as could be wished. The next morning we received our +orders. Margaret was to go to tea with him at the Church House, escorted +either by Chat or by me, as Jenny preferred. He expected that some +business would bring Fillingford there about five—and so the encounter; +for the result of it, he added, he took no sort of responsibility.</p> + +<p>"You must go, of course," Jenny decided. "Chat wouldn't be able to tell +me anything about what really happened."</p> + +<p>I had to see Cartmell earlier in the afternoon, so arranged to meet +Margaret at the appointed place. She knew nothing of Fillingford's being +expected, but she had taken a strong liking to Alison and was greatly +pleased with her invitation—only surprised that Jenny should not be +going, too.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I told him I couldn't," said Jenny. Let us call that a diplomatic +evasion.</p> + +<p>Sir John Aspenick came into Cartmell's office while I was there. He had +heard rumors of the proposed sale of Oxley Lodge and its estate by +Bertram Ware—and to Jenny. Here was legitimate matter of inquiry and +interest for the county. Aspenick was much interested; but he did not +seem particularly pleased.</p> + +<p>"The thing is hardly public property yet," said old Cartmell, "but I'm +sure Miss Driver wouldn't mind its being mentioned to such an old friend +as you are, Sir John. Yes, it's settled. Ware sells and she buys—the +whole thing, lock, stock, and barrel, and at a pretty stiff price, +too—to say nothing of an extra five hundred for early possession."</p> + +<p>"Why does she do it?" demanded Aspenick, sitting on the office table and +smoking a cigar.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I can sometimes see what a woman is doing by using my eyes, and I +can sometimes see what she's going to do by using my head; but why she +does it or why she's going to do it—that's quite beyond me," said +Cartmell.</p> + +<p>"It's a pretty place," I urged. "Good house—nice sized sort of place, +too."</p> + +<p>"But who's going to live in it—unless you are, Austin?"</p> + +<p>I modestly disclaimed any pretensions—and any desire—to be housed so +handsomely. Sir John frowned in perplexity. "Seems to me she wants the +whole county!" he observed.</p> + +<p>"Old Nicholas Driver did, anyhow," said Cartmell with a laugh. "Oxley +wasn't enough for him! He wanted Fillingford Manor—you remember, Sir +John?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that didn't come off," said Aspenick dryly; I fancied that he +hinted it had not "come off" with old Nicholas's daughter either—so +far. "Does she mean to let the house?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know anything about it."</p> + +<p>"Well, she'll be a good neighbor, I suppose. She can afford to keep her +fences in order, and she won't put up wire. More than I can say for +Ware! His fences were a disgrace, and he's been threatening us with +wire—that's only since we wouldn't have him as candidate, I admit."</p> + +<p>"We'll answer for the fences and the wire," Cartmell promised him +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"But, in spite of his being reassured as to these vital matters, +Aspenick's brow was still clouded.</p> + +<p>"You're her man, of course, Cartmell, but I don't mind saying to you +that these new people coming in and buying up everything give me a sort +of feeling of being crowded. Do you know what I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Can't keep things just as they were six hundred years ago, Sir John," +said Cartmell.</p> + +<p>Aspenick was not mollified by this tactful reference to his long +descent. "Hustling, I call it! I suppose you'll be wanting Overington +next?"</p> + +<p>We both repudiated the idea of laying profane hands on Overington's +ancient glories. "We'll leave you in possession, Sir John. But we may +take just a slice off Hingston, if Mr. Dormer's agreeable."</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows that Dormer's outrunning the constable, and I daresay +you'll get all you want from him—but not an acre of mine, mind you!"</p> + +<p>"Don't cry out before you're hurt, Sir John," Cartmell advised him +good-humoredly. But when he was gone he said to me with a shrewd nod, +"Well, we all know why he's so precious sulky!"</p> + +<p>Aspenick's want of warmth about our new acquisitions (Cartmell and I +always said "our" when we meant Jenny's) no doubt had a personal +cause—though it was not hard to appreciate also his class-feeling. The +property of Oxley lay full between Overington and Fillingford Manor; but +since her return Jenny had severed Aspenick's house from Fillingford's +in another way than that. No more was heard about Lacey and Eunice.</p> + +<p>Cartmell was no gossip and a man of few questions unless about a horse; +yet now he turned his rubicund face toward me with an air of humorous +puzzle. "Any news from the house?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing particular—just at present," I answered.</p> + +<p>"I've looked at it this way, and I've looked at it that way, and I'm +flummoxed. Why early possession—and five hundred paid for it? She can't +want the house—and as business it's ridiculous. But you know her +way—'My wish, Mr. Cartmell, and please no words about it!'"</p> + +<p>"She generally has a purpose—she doesn't act at random," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"A purpose! Lord love you, half a dozen! And, what's more, I believe you +generally know them. But, as she knows, you're devilish safe. There it +is! I could make her a really rich woman if she'd let me—but with money +thrown away like that, and her Institute, and what not—!" He looked as +gloomy as if Jenny were on the verge of bankruptcy and all our +livelihoods taking wings.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you one thing. I think you'll have to open the purse-strings +wider still before many days are out."</p> + +<p>He looked at me very sharply. "The marriage coming off? And a big +settlement? Well, that'd be right enough. All the same, I can't say I +like it, Austin. Fillingford's son! Doesn't it stick in your throat a +bit?"</p> + +<p>"I said I'd tell you one thing. I didn't say I'd tell you two or three +more."</p> + +<p>"All the town says it. My word, you should hear Mrs. Jepps! My wife says +it's something terrible." He twinkled in amusement again. "Lord, it's +sometimes worth being a bit staggered yourself just to see how much +worse the thing takes other people!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jepps and the rest of the town had better wait a little. It's a +pity to waste good indignation."</p> + +<p>"Aye, and folks hate being cheated of a scandal they've made up their +minds to."</p> + +<p>"Scandal's a hard word in the case that you're thinking of."</p> + +<p>"I've no great stock of words outside of a conveyance of land—there I +can use as many as any man except counsel. But, to tell the truth, it +goes against my stomach."</p> + +<p>"It sticks in your throat! And it goes against your stomach! And all +this before you've been even asked to swallow it! Aren't you +considerably premature?"</p> + +<p>"You think there's a chance she won't—?" His manner was openly eager.</p> + +<p>"Yes—but hold your tongue, and pay up your five hundred for early +possession."</p> + +<p>"Upon my soul, Austin, I never more than half believed it. But when +everybody buzzes a thing into a man's ears—and his own wife first among +them—and he sees no other meaning of things, why——"</p> + +<p>"The best of us are likely to give in—yes! Well, I've got another +appointment—at Alison's."</p> + +<p>"Alison's? What have you got to do with Alison these days?"</p> + +<p>"Come now, does your position interfere with your friendships? What have +you to do with Mrs. Jepps?"</p> + +<p>"It was my wife. I never see the old witch."</p> + +<p>"I've no wife—so I have to face the devil on my own account."</p> + +<p>From my talk with Cartmell I was the more anxious for the success of my +other appointment. That might help to free Jenny from the danger of +being made so angry as to do what she hated to do, and what faithful old +Cartmell could not stomach. If anything could drive her to it, it would +be a slight, a harshness, a rudeness, toward Margaret. How she had +flared up at Alison's objections! If Margaret were spurned, to Jenny's +mind Octon also was again spurned. Then the temper would still have to +be reckoned with—the temper under disappointment as well as wrath; for +Jenny built upon this interview.</p> + +<p>Margaret was punctual at Alison's—she came spanking up in the carriage +with the big gray horses the moment after I had reached the door—and we +went together into the sparely furnished room where he lived and did his +work. He was no bookman—his walls looked bare; his very chairs meant +labor rather than rest. And he was no student—"My convictions from God, +my orders from the Bishop, my time to the ministry," he had once said to +me—adding then, with the touch of humor that so often softened his +rigorous zeal—"I sometimes think one's Bishop is the final trial of +faith, Austin." Our Bishop was a moderate man, highly diplomatic, given +to quoting St. Paul as an example of adaptability. "All things to all +men if by chance—" So far as the chance lay there, his lordship never +missed it.</p> + +<p>But to see Alison with Margaret obliterated any criticism left possible +by his affectionate nature and (may I add?) his ingenuous consciousness +of possessing absolute and exclusive truth. He had so tender a reverence +for her youth and receptivity—and with it such a high gentlemanly +purpose that she should not think that he held her either too young for +courtesy or too receptive for intellectual respect. He had great +manners, born of a loving heart. Why, after all, should he worry about +reading books? Guesses about appearances—that's books—from novels up +to philosophy. But how pleasant is the guessing!</p> + +<p>She became to him at once a delighted disciple. Here was no such +discrepancy of heart and head as divided him from Jenny—no appeal to +another standard—no obstinate defense against his attacks behind the +ramparts of her nature. Margaret's nature was his to mold—small blame +to him if the thought crossed his mind that it would be to the good if +she were set in a high place—if such a light burned under no bushel of +obscurity!</p> + +<p>Fillingford was announced. Alison gave me a quick glance, as though to +say "Now for it!"—and the grave stern man stood on the threshold of the +room. I had not seen him without his hat for a long while; he had grown +gray: his figure, too, was more set; he was indisputably, even +emphatically, middle-aged. His face was more lined and looked careworn. +His eyes fell first on me, and there was hesitation in his manner. +Alison went quickly to him and greeted him.</p> + +<p>"We've been having a little tea-party, but I shall soon be ready for +business. Austin you know. This is my friend Miss Octon."</p> + +<p>Fillingford came forward—slowly, but with no change of expression. He +bowed gravely to Margaret, and gave me his hand with a limp pressure. "I +hope you're well, Mr. Austin? We've met very little of late."</p> + +<p>Margaret was regarding him with curiosity complicated by alarm. This was +Amyas Lacey's father—and Amyas had given the impression that his father +was formidable; there was a knowledge in her own heart which might well +make him seem formidable to her, even had his bearing been far more +cordial.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I've come too soon," he said. "I interrupt your party."</p> + +<p>"Sit down with us and have a cup of tea—Miss Octon will give you one."</p> + +<p>He did not refuse the invitation, and sat down opposite Margaret. She +ministered to him with a graceful assiduity, offering her timid services +with smiles that begged a welcome for them. He remained gravely +courteous, watching her with apparent interest.</p> + +<p>"I hope Miss Driver is well?" he said to me with a carefully measured +civility.</p> + +<p>Very wisely Alison did not leave the pair he had brought together to +entertain one another. Plunging again into the description of his work +which had so won Margaret's interest before, he enabled Fillingford to +see the gay charm which he himself could not elicit. Then, branching off +to herself, he got her to describe the wonderful delights of her new +existence—her horse, her dog, the little room that Jenny had given her +for her own snuggery at the top of the house. "I can see your chimneys +from the window!" she told Fillingford with a sudden turn toward him, +followed by a lively blush—how came her interest in those chimneys to +be so great? Fear kept her from Lacey's name; some instinct, I think, +from more than casual reference to the donor of all the fine gifts which +she catalogued and praised; little reference used to be made to +Fillingford at Breysgate, and perhaps she had caught the cue thus given.</p> + +<p>"But I haven't got enough work to do," she complained gayly to Alison. +"And if you would let me come and work for you——"</p> + +<p>"I'll find you plenty of work to do," he promised. "Lots of wicked old +women to visit!" He smiled at us. "I might try you on the wicked young +men, too," he added. "There are lots of them about. But plenty of very +good fellows, too, if only we could really get hold of them."</p> + +<p>"Try her on Mrs. Jepps," Fillingford suggested dryly; yet the smallest +unbending, the least hint of a joke, from him seemed something gained.</p> + +<p>"That's the old lady with the fat horses, isn't it? She looks very kind +and nice."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said Alison. Fillingford gave a wintry smile. "Mrs. Jepps and I +are considered the two ogres of the neighborhood," he said.</p> + +<p>Her little hand darted impulsively across the table toward him, and was +as quickly drawn back—one of her ventures, followed by her merry +confusion. "You! Oh, nonsense! I don't believe that!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you haven't heard all the stories about me!"</p> + +<p>"I've only heard that you're very—really very kind and—and just." She +was summoning all her courage; she was full of deprecation and appeal.</p> + +<p>"Who told you that?"</p> + +<p>She cast a look of dismay at me, and I came to her rescue. "Your son, of +course, Lord Fillingford. We see him sometimes at Breysgate."</p> + +<p>"I know you do." He shot out the words and shut his lips close after +them.</p> + +<p>She looked distressed and rather puzzled; after thawing a little, he had +relapsed into frost at the first mention of his son. Alison seemed to +think a diversion desirable.</p> + +<p>"Before you go, I should like to show you our chapel. We have a little +one of our own here. We use it in the early mornings sometimes, and for +prayers after supper."</p> + +<p>She jumped at the proposal, both for its own sake, I think, and for a +refuge from her embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"We'll be back directly," said Alison, as they left Fillingford and +myself together.</p> + +<p>Fillingford sat in silence for some moments. Then he said slowly, "I +didn't know that your newcomer at Breysgate was so attractive."</p> + +<p>Jenny had not reckoned on my being left alone with him. I had no +instructions, and had to choose my own course. "I thought that perhaps +Lacey would have told you about her?"</p> + +<p>He looked me in the face with his heavy deliberate gaze. "We don't often +speak of his visits to Breysgate." He paused and then added, with +something of restrained vehemence in his tone, "I don't care to ask +either the number or the object of his visits—and he hasn't volunteered +any information to me on either point."</p> + +<p>"His visits are frequent," I remarked. "As to their object——"</p> + +<p>"I don't think we need discuss that—you and I, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>"I was only going to say that we could neither of us do more than guess +at it."</p> + +<p>For a moment he lost his self-control. "I hope to Heaven my guess is +wrong—that's all," he said hotly.</p> + +<p>Surprised out of reserve, he leaned forward toward me, with a sudden +look of eagerness in his eyes. "I should like to know what you mean by +that—if you're at liberty to tell me."</p> + +<p>"I'd sooner not. It would come better from your son, I think."</p> + +<p>"I prefer not to talk to my son about the matter just now. I might wrong +him. I have many worries just now—business and others—and I don't +trust myself to discuss it with him with all the calmness which I should +desire."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can do no more than venture to advise you not to come to +any conclusion prematurely."</p> + +<p>He broke out again; it was evident that he was living under a strain +which taxed his endurance sorely. "But Amyas is always there! And +she——!"</p> + +<p>The sound of Alison's voice came from the hall. "Hush! They're just +coming back. You must wait and see."</p> + +<p>A light broke over his face. "You can't possibly mean that it's this +girl?" There was undoubted relief in his tone—but utter surprise, too, +and even contempt. "Oh, but that's on all grounds utterly ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>They were in the room again. "Don't say so, don't say so," I had just +time to whisper.</p> + +<p>Margaret came in, laughing and merry, recovered from her confusion, +delighted with the chapel, she and Alison one another's slaves. While +she worshiped him, she had almost got to ordering him about; she laughed +at her own airs, and he industriously humored them. They were a pretty +sight together. The grave careworn man at my side watched them, as I +thought, with a closer interest. But it was time for us to go—Lord +Fillingford's business had been long awaiting—and Margaret began to +make her farewells, extracting from Alison a promise that she should +come again soon, and that he would come again soon to Breysgate. I think +that this was the first Fillingford had heard of his having been at +Breysgate at all; his eyes looked wary at the news.</p> + +<p>Margaret came to him. "Good-by, Lord Fillingford," she said with shy +friendliness.</p> + +<p>He looked intently at her. "I'm glad to have met a friend of my son's," +he said gravely. She blushed again; he turned to me with brows knit and +eyes full of brooding question.</p> + +<p>On the way home Margaret was silent for a while; then she asked, "Did +Lord Fillingford know my father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he knew him slightly."</p> + +<p>"Were they friends?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, I don't think they were, particularly. Not very congenial, I +fancy."</p> + +<p>"No, they wouldn't be," she agreed. "Father would have thought him dull +and pompous, wouldn't he? But I think I should get to like him and"—she +smiled audaciously—"I believe I could make him like me. He looks sad, +though, poor man! Though I suppose he's got everything!"</p> + +<p>"A good many worries included, I think, Margaret."</p> + +<p>"He spoke of Lord Lacey as if he was fond of him." The smile lingered on +her lips. I think that she was day-dreaming of how, if he were fond of +Lacey, he would be fond of what Lacey loved, and that so she might +soothe him over his worries and take the lines out of his painful brow. +"Anyhow I'm very glad I've met him."</p> + +<p>I was glad of that, too—on the whole. The interview had gone as well as +could be expected. Margaret had won no such sudden and complete victory +as had attended the beginning of her acquaintance with Alison. +Fillingford was not the man to yield a triumph like that; he was far too +slow and wary in his feelings, too suspicious and afraid of efforts to +approach him; he had, besides, a personal grudge against Breysgate that +must needs go deeper than Alison's enforced but reluctant disapproval of +the mistress of that house. His words had not been encouraging—"on all +grounds utterly ridiculous!" Yet there had been kindness in his grave +tones when he told her that he was glad to have met a friend of his +son's. I wondered whether Jenny would be content with this somewhat +mixed result—and what she would say to the share I had taken in the +interview.</p> + +<p>I got no chance of making my report to her till late at night, for +Cartmell came to dinner—to talk business—and the two were busy +discussing Oxley Lodge. Cartmell was still sore about the price, +especially sore about that five hundred pounds to satisfy a mysterious +whim for early possession. But Jenny was radiant over her new +acquisition, and full of merriment at the story of Aspenick's sulky +comments.</p> + +<p>"Really I think they've every right to hate me—and I suppose they do. +But I can't stand still just because the Aspenicks have stood still for +six hundred years, can I? Anyhow I think he'll be quite safe about the +wire. His new neighbors will probably be hunting people themselves."</p> + +<p>Cartmell pricked up his ears. "Hunting people, will they? Well, that's +good. I didn't know who——"</p> + +<p>"No more do I yet—exactly," she laughed, obviously enjoying his baffled +curiosity, and casting a glance across at me for my sympathy in the +joke. "But I'll have people of a good class, Mr. Cartmell—no one to +offend his high nobility! No tradesman's son at Oxley! Breysgate is bad +enough!" Her eyes dwelt for a moment on Margaret. "And Margaret tells me +that she's made a conquest of Mr. Alison, and, as a consequence, is +going in for all manner of good works."</p> + +<p>Cartmell did not follow the connection of her thoughts, and she laughed +again at that.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite serious about it, Jenny," Margaret protested.</p> + +<p>"Of course you are, my dear, I'm very glad of it. And I believe it would +appeal even to Lady Aspenick!"</p> + +<p>At last we were alone together—just before I said good night.</p> + +<p>"Margaret has told me some of her impressions. What are yours?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"I think that, on the whole, we did fairly well. I also think that +Margaret and I between us pretty well let the cat out of the bag."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did! How was the animal liked?"</p> + +<p>"It was pronounced ridiculous—on all grounds ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>"Was it? We shall see." Jenny looked dangerous.</p> + +<p>"But all the same it was thought better than—the fox."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she cried eagerly. "Better than the fox!" Her eyes sparkled. "Tell +me all you can remember."</p> + +<p>I told her my tale, not forgetting what had passed between Fillingford +and myself when we were alone.</p> + +<p>"Not so bad! I think we'll go ahead now!" said Jenny.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>A CHANCE FOR THE ROMANTIC</h3> + + +<p>All was as ready as all could be made. The plans were laid, the +approaches prepared, the battalions marshaled. For so much a commander +must wait—a good one waits no longer. We went ahead. The Thursday which +Jenny had forecasted as likely to be busy turned out to be busy in fact. +One thing happened for which she gave the word—another which, as I am +persuaded, did not surprise her very much. It had to come—it had better +be over and done with. In all likelihood she gave the word for this +second thing also.</p> + +<p>How were these words given? Ah, there I am out of my depth. In our +relations to the other sex we men are naturally on the aggressive. The +man pursued of woman exists no doubt—but as an abnormality—a queer +by-product of a civilization intent on many things non-natural. The +normal man is on the attack, and ignorant, by consequence, of the +minutiæ of the science of defense. Whether the intent be surrender, or +whether it be that the moment has come for a definitive repulse of the +main attack, there are, no doubt, preliminary operations. Scouts are +called in, pickets withdrawn, skirmishes retired; all these have served +their function—have given information, have foretold the attack, have +felt the strength of the opposing forces, and held them in check while +the counsels of the defense were taken and its measures perfected. The +order is issued—Let them come on—and on they come, to their triumph or +their overthrow. But all this is woman's campaigning—to be dimly +understood in its outlines, vaguely grasped in its general principles; +but how precisely those preliminary operations are performed man, when +he has the best opportunity of discovering, is generally too flurried to +observe nicely, too deeply engaged in developing his attack to see, more +than half blindly, the maneuvers that allow him an open field for it.</p> + +<p>Somehow then, on that Thursday, Jenny offered battle—and on two fronts. +She threw her ally Margaret open to Lacey's assault; she accepted, on +her own account, a direct attack from Dormer. She wished the offensive +operations to be practically simultaneous, and substantially achieved +the object. One took place before four in the afternoon—the other not +later than nine o'clock at night.</p> + +<p>Keenly recognizing the fact that I was not wanted at the Priory—I am +not sure that Jenny's pointed remark that she would be glad to see me +"after dinner" did not assist the recognition—I remained in my own +quarters after returning from our couple of hours' morning work. I +rather thought that I might be called into action again later on, but I +was not concerned in the present operations.</p> + +<p>At five in the afternoon Lacey came to me—in a state of the greatest +agitation. He just strode in, without asking any leave, and plumped +himself down by my hearthstone. His eyes were very bright, his hands and +legs seemed quite unable to keep still. Obviously something decisive had +happened.</p> + +<p>"I've done it, Austin!" he said. "I never thought I should be so happy +in my life—and I never thought I should feel such a beast either."</p> + +<p>"Congratulations! And explanations? It sounds a curious frame of mind."</p> + +<p>"Margaret's accepted me—and I'm on my way to Fillingford to tell my +father. Miss Driver insisted on my doing it at once—said it was the +only square thing. Otherwise—By Jove, I'd rather charge a battery!"</p> + +<p>He got up and began to walk about the room; its dimensions were far too +small, whether for his long legs or for his explosive state of mind.</p> + +<p>"By gad, Austin, you should have seen how she looked!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, man, Margaret. I was awfully doubtful—well, a fellow doesn't +want to talk about his feelings nor about—about what happens on that +sort of occasion, you know. Only if it hadn't been for Miss Driver, I +couldn't have bucked myself up to it, you know. Taking away her +friend—leaving her all alone again, too!" he paused a moment. "I tell +you I did think of that," he added rather vehemently.</p> + +<p>"Most men wouldn't have thought about that at all—perhaps oughtn't to +have."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but then what she is to both of us! Well, it went right, Austin, it +went right, by Jove!"</p> + +<p>His voice was exalted to the skies of triumph. In an instant it dropped +to the pit of dismay. "And now I've got to tell the governor!"</p> + +<p>"All this has happened thousands of times before," I ventured to remark +urbanely, as I filled my pipe and watched his restless striding up and +down.</p> + +<p>That brought him to a stand—and cooled him into the bargain. "Not +quite," he said. "Not quite, Austin." His voice had become more quiet. +"You must see that there are elements in this case which—which make it +a bit different? My father's been a good friend to me. Things aren't +very flourishing with us, as I daresay you know. But I've always had +everything—and I've spent all I had, too. The election was a squeeze +for him; of course he wouldn't let me take any subscription—it was the +honor of the family. He thought of putting things straight himself +once—you know how. He'd sooner die than do that now. I'm doing what's +pretty nearly as bad to his thinking—and not putting things straight at +all! I daresay you don't sympathize with all this, but I've been brought +up to think that there's such a thing as loyalty to the family—and not +to be ashamed of it. Well, I've cut all that adrift. I couldn't help it. +But I don't know whether we can go on. It may mean"—he threw out his +hands—"a general break-up!"</p> + +<p>"But you're set on it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a good deal too late to talk about that? When I've tried to +make her love me—and—and she does?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's late in the day now. You must go to your father."</p> + +<p>"I think I'd sooner be taken home to him with a bullet in my head."</p> + +<p>"You'll find it won't be quite so bad as you think. Bad, but not quite +so bad, you know."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you don't allow for—" He stopped. "Well, you remember Hatcham +Ford?"</p> + +<p>"It seems rather long ago, Lacey."</p> + +<p>"Not to him: he broods. If only she wasn't——!"</p> + +<p>"'Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo!'"</p> + +<p>"That didn't end so deuced happily, did it?"</p> + +<p>"Only because Romeo got back at the wrong moment! Miss Driver, you say, +was pleased?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh, more than that! But for her I don't believe I could have done +it. Still it's my own job—and I'm ready to face it. These things must +be meant to come, Austin."</p> + +<p>I glanced at the clock. He laughed reluctantly and nervously. "Give a +fellow five minutes more!" he said.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure. Spend it in thinking not of yourself, nor even of your +father—but of Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's right," he said eagerly. "That's the thing to think about. +That'll carry me through." He gave another unwilling laugh. "If he'd +only be violent, or kick me out, or something of that sort—like the +silly old fools in the plays! Not he! He'll behave perfectly, be very +calm and very quiet—particularly civil about Margaret herself! He'll +tell me I must judge for myself—just as he did about coming to +Breysgate. And all the while he'll be breaking his heart." He smiled at +me ruefully. "Aunt Sarah'll do the cursing—but who cares for that?"</p> + +<p>"A good many people besides Lady Sarah will have a word to say, no +doubt."</p> + +<p>"I don't care a damn for the lot of them—except my father," he +said—and I was glad to hear him say it. It expressed—vigorously—my +own feelings in the matter. "And don't you think I'm the happiest man on +earth?" he added a moment later.</p> + +<p>"Earth's not heaven. Try to let Lord Fillingford see what you've shown +me."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"You don't mind my saying it? It's another of those things that one +generally doesn't care to talk about. Try to show him that you love her +very much, and that next in order—and not quite out of sight +either—comes your father. Don't treat it casually—as if you were +telling him you were going to dine out—though I daresay that's the +etiquette. Try the open heart against the hidden one. You appreciate his +case. Show him you do. That's my advice."</p> + +<p>"It's good advice. I'll try." He came to me holding out his hand. "And +wish me good luck!"</p> + +<p>"You've had as fine a slice of luck to-day as happens to most men. +Here's to another!"</p> + +<p>He wrung my hand hard. "I've made an ass of myself, I suppose!" That was +homage to the etiquette. "I'll remember what you've said. He has a case, +by Jove, and a strong one!" He smiled again. "Somehow Margaret's case +won, though," he ended.</p> + +<p>He went his way—a straight lad and a simple gentleman. He had no idea +that any schemes had been afoot, that any wires had been pulled, either +for him or against his father—if to get this thing done were indeed +against Fillingford. Nor had he any idea that his scruples about family +loyalty were to be annihilated by the intervention of a fairy godmother. +Jenny had stuck to the romantic color of her scheme. She sent him forth +to meet his father with no plea in extenuation, with no proffer of gold +wherewith to gild the hated name of Octon. His fight was to be +single-handed. So she chose to prove his metal—with, perhaps, a +side-thought that the fairy godmother's intervention, coming later, +might be more effective—and would certainly gain in picturesqueness! +That notion, unflattering maybe, one could not easily dismiss when the +workings of her mind were in question. Yet it might be that a finer idea +was there—that it was not only Lacey's metal which was to be proved +that night. She had said that she was ready to bribe, that she might +have to bully—and implied that she was prepared to do both at once, if +need be. But had it come across her thoughts that, by divine chance, she +might have to do neither? She knew Fillingford's love for his son; she +had sent Margaret to met Fillingford that he might see her as she was. +She might be minded now to prove if love alone would not serve the turn. +The battalions might all be held in leash—and the God of Love himself +sent forth as herald to a parley. If Fillingford surrendered to that +pleading, the victory would not be so purely Jenny's: but she would, I +believed, have the grace to like it better. That it was a less +characteristic mode of proceeding had to be admitted: but to-day there +would be an atmosphere at the Priory which might incline her to it. She +would not force Fillingford, if she need not—neither by threats nor by +bribes. Being myself, I suppose, somewhat touched by Amyas Lacey's +exaltation, I found myself hoping that she would try—first—the appeal +of heart to heart. That she would accept it as final—I knew too much to +look for that.</p> + +<p>The case could not, in its nature, be so simple. With the appeal of love +must come that relief from a greater fear which she had carefully +implanted, on which she certainly reckoned. That was in the very marrow +of her plan; no romantic fancies could get rid of it. The best excuse +for it lay in the fact that it would certainly be useful, and was +probably necessary. When things are certainly useful and probably +necessary, the world is apt to exhibit toward them a certain leniency of +judgment. Jenny did not set herself above the world in moral matters.</p> + +<p>I went up to the Priory after dinner, availing myself of Jenny's +strictly defined invitation. But up there I made a blunder. I blundered +into a room where one person at least did not want me—I am not so sure +about the other. Dormer had gone clean out of my head; more serious +matters were to the front. Heedlessly I charged into the library; there +were he and Jenny! Luckily I seemed to have arrived only at the tail-end +of their conversation. "Quite final," were the words I heard from her +lips as I opened the door. She was standing opposite Dormer, looking +demurely resolute, but quite gentle and friendly. He was looking not +much distressed, but most remarkably sulky.</p> + +<p>I tried to back out, but she called me in. "Come in, Austin. You're just +in time to bid Mr. Dormer good night."</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I'd better be off. I'll pick up +the car at the stables."</p> + +<p>"Good night. We shall see you again some day soon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. I may go away for a bit—and anyhow I expect +to be pretty busy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, we shall see you again some day soon!" she said very kindly +and persuasively. "You won't let it be too long, will you? And you will +see Mr. Cartmell about that business, won't you?"</p> + +<p>He nodded in an offhand surly fashion—but he might be excused for being +a little out of temper. Evidently he was not going to get Jenny's land; +apparently she was still to get what she wanted of his. "You'll have to +pay for them!" he reminded her, almost threateningly.</p> + +<p>"A fancy price for my fancy? Well, I'm always ready to pay that," said +Jenny. "Good night and, mind you, quite soon!" Her tone implied real +anxiety to see her friend again; under its influence he gave a +half-unwilling nod of assent.</p> + +<p>I escorted him as far as the hall door—further than that he declined my +company. I held a match for him to light his cigar and gave him a +stirrup-cup. "Good night, Austin!" Then his irritation got the better of +him. "Damn it, does she want Lacey for herself, after all?" Evidently +the great event of the day—from our point of view—had not been +confided to him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you may be sure she doesn't."</p> + +<p>"Then what the deuce she does want I don't know—and I don't believe she +does!" With this parting grumble he slouched off sulkily toward the +stable.</p> + +<p>As a humane man, I was sorry for his plight; Jenny was still serenely +ruthless.</p> + +<p>"Annoyed, isn't he?" she asked when I rejoined her. "Really I was rather +glad when you came in. He had got as far as hinting that I—he put a +good deal of emphasis on his 'you'—ought to have jumped at him! It's +quite possible that he'd have become more explicit—though it wouldn't +have come very well from him under the circumstances."</p> + +<p>"You've deluded the young man, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it'll do him good," she declared impatiently. "Didn't he deserve to +be deluded? He wanted me for what I had, not for myself. Well, I don't +so much mind that, but I tell you, Austin, he patronized me! I may be a +sinner, but I'm not going to be patronized by Gerald Dormer without +hitting back."</p> + +<p>"Did you quarrel?"</p> + +<p>She smiled. "No. I'm never going to quarrel any more. He'll be back here +in no time—and have another try most likely! You see, I'm going into +training—a course of amiability, so as to be ready for Lady Sarah." She +sprang to her feet. "Do you know that this is a most exciting evening?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I can imagine that. I've had a long talk with Lacey."</p> + +<p>"Have you? Isn't he splendid, poor boy? You should have seen his face +when I sent him to her! He thought of nothing but her then—but I like +him for thinking of his father now. And I've brought it off, Austin! He +thinks there may be just a pretty wedding present—a trousseau check, +perhaps!" She came up to me. "This is a good thing I've done—to set +against the rest."</p> + +<p>"I think it is. But the boy feels horribly guilty."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I know—and so does poor Margaret. I'm afraid she's crying +up in her own den—and that's not right for to-night, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Love's joy and woe can be simultaneous as well as alternate, I'm +afraid."</p> + +<p>"I can't stand it much longer." She looked at the clock. "He's to send +word over to-night, if he can—by a groom—how he's got on—breaking +the news, you know. Let's go out into the garden and wait for this +important messenger. But, whatever he says, I believe I shall have to +put my oar in to-morrow. I can't have my poor Margaret like this much +longer. She knows now why she was taken to Mr. Alison's, and does +nothing but declare that she behaved atrociously!"</p> + +<p>We were a silent pair of watchers. Jenny's whole soul seemed absorbed in +waiting. She spoke only once—in words which betrayed the line of her +thoughts. "If I'd thought it would be as bad as this—for her, I mean—I +believe I'd have brought her here under another name, in spite of +everything, and perpetrated a fraud! I could have told them after the +wedding!"</p> + +<p>I was afraid that she would have been quite capable of such villainy +where Margaret was in question, and not altogether averse from a +<i>dénoûment</i> so dramatic.</p> + +<p>"Either Lacey's shirked the interview—or it's been a very long one," I +remarked, as the clock over the stables struck half-past ten. "Poor +Dormer's home by now—to solitude!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother Mr. Dormer and his solitude! Listen, do you hear hoofs?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say I do," I rejoined, lighting my pipe.</p> + +<p>"How you can smoke!" she exclaimed scornfully. Really I could not do +anything else—in view of the tension.</p> + +<p>A voice came from above our heads: "Jenny, are there any signs?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, dear," called Jenny, and waved her arms despairingly. "Ah!" +She held up her hand and rose quickly to her feet. Now we heard the +distant sound of hoofs. "I wonder if he's written to me or to her!" She +started walking toward the drive.</p> + +<p>"To you, I'll be bound!" I answered as I followed.</p> + +<p>In a few moments the groom rode up. Jenny was waiting for him, took the +letter from him, and opened it.</p> + +<p>"No answer," she said. "Thank you. You'll ask them to give you a glass +of beer, won't you?"</p> + +<p>The man thanked her, touched his hat, and rode off to the servants' +quarters.</p> + +<p>"In old days the bearer of bad tidings wouldn't have got a glass of +beer," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"The tidings are doubtful." She gave me the letter: "He is terribly cut +up. He promises me an answer to-morrow. I haven't told him yet that I +must stick to it <i>anyhow</i>. That's for to-morrow, too, if it must come. +My love to her.—<span class="smcap">Amyas</span>."</p> + +<p>"It'd be so much better if he never had to say that," Jenny reflected +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Certainly it would. If the thing could be managed without a rupture, +without defiance on the one side or an unyielding posture on the other, +it would be much more comfortable for everybody afterwards.</p> + +<p>"Still, you know, he's ready to do it if he must." Her pride in her +romantic handiwork spoke again.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Margaret was with us, out of breath from her run downstairs, +gasping out a prayer for the letter. Jenny gave it to her, and she read +it. She looked up to Jenny with terrified eyes.</p> + +<p>"He mustn't do it for me. I must give him up, Jenny," she murmured, +woefully forlorn.</p> + +<p>Very gently, just the least scornfully, Jenny answered, "We don't give +things up at Breysgate." She stooped and kissed her. "Go and dream that +it's all right. It will be by this time to-morrow. Austin and I have a +little business to talk over."</p> + +<p>Having thus dismissed Margaret (who carried off the precious distressful +letter with her), Jenny led me back into the library, bidding me to go +on smoking if I really must. She sat down, very thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"It's delicate," she said. "Of course I'm trying to bribe him, but I +don't want to seem to do it. If I make my offer before he decides, that +looks like bribing. If he decides against us, and we make it +then—bribery still! But in addition to bribery, there'll be the bad +feeling between Amyas and him. No, we must do it before he decides! Only +you'll have to be very diplomatic—very careful how you do it."</p> + +<p>"I shall have to be?" I exclaimed fairly startled. "I——!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't go to him, can I?" she asked. "That really would be too +awkward!" She smiled at the thought of the suggested interview.</p> + +<p>"Pens, ink, and paper!" I suggested, waving a hand toward the +writing-table.</p> + +<p>"No, no—I want the way felt. If you see he's going to give in +without—without the bribe—of course you say nothing about it till he's +consented. That'd be best of all; then there's no bribe really. But if +he looks like deciding against us, then you tactfully offer the bribe. +You must be feeling his mind all the time, Austin."</p> + +<p>"And if he has already decided against us?"</p> + +<p>She looked at me resolutely. "Remind him that it's not as bad as it +might be."</p> + +<p>"Bribe—and bully?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." She met my eyes for a minute, then turned her head away, with a +rather peevish twist of her lips.</p> + +<p>"This is a pleasant errand to send a respectable man on! Do you want me +to go to him at the Manor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—the very first thing after breakfast, so as to catch him, if you +can, before he has had time to pronounce against us, if that's what he's +going to do. A man surely wouldn't do a thing like that before +breakfast! You'll go for me, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll go for you if you want me to."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll give you your instructions."</p> + +<p>She gave them to me clearly, concisely, and with complete decision. I +heard her in a silence broken only once—then by a low whistle from me. +She ended and lay back in her chair, her eyes asking my views.</p> + +<p>"You're in for another big row if you do this, you know," I remarked to +her.</p> + +<p>"Another row? With whom?"</p> + +<p>"Why, with Cartmell, to be sure! It's so much more than's necessary."</p> + +<p>"No, it's not," she declared rather hotly. "It may be more than's +necessary for her, or perhaps for Lord Fillingford. It's not more than +is necessary for me—nor for Leonard."</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. She laughed rather impatiently. "One's friends +always want one to be a niggard!" She leaned forward to me, breaking +into a coaxing smile, "Remember 'the handsome thing,' dear Austin."</p> + +<p>I came to her and patted her hand. "I'm with you right through. And, +after all, you'll still have a roof over your head."</p> + +<p>She looked at me with eyes merry, yet foreseeing. "I shan't be in at all +a bad position." She laughed. "No harm in that—so long as it doesn't +interfere with Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"No harm in the world. I was only afraid that you'd lost sight of it."</p> + +<p>Jenny sighed and smiled. "You needn't be afraid of such a complete +transformation as that," she said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>A FRESH COAT OF PAINT</h3> + + +<p>It was all very well to tell me that I must feel Fillingford's mind, but +that possession of his had always seemed to me to achieve a high degree +of intangibility. His words were not in the habit of disclosing more of +it than was necessary for his purpose—without any regard for his +interlocutor's—while his face reduced expression to a minimum. For all +you got from looking at him, you might pretty nearly as well have talked +with your eyes shut. That sudden stroke of surprise and relief at +Alison's stood out in my memory as unique—the only real revelation of +his feelings which I had seen reflected on his countenance. High demands +were being made on me as an amateur diplomatist!</p> + +<p>My arrival at the Manor was early—untimely probably, and certainly +unexpected. The very butler showed surprise, and left me standing in the +hall while he went to discover whether Fillingford could see me. Before +this he had suggested that it was Lacey whom I really wanted and that, +since Lacey had gone out riding directly after breakfast, my errand was +vain. When I insisted that I knew whom I wanted, he gave way, still +reluctantly; several minutes passed before he returned with the message +that his lordship would receive me. He led me along a corridor, toward a +door at the far end of it. To my consternation, as we approached that +door, Lady Sarah came out of it—and came out with a good deal of +meaning. She flounced out; and she passed me with angry eyes and her +head erect. I felt quite sure that Lady Sarah had been against my being +received at all that morning.</p> + +<p>During previous visits to the Manor, I had not enjoyed the privilege of +being shown Fillingford's study, in which I now found myself (not +without qualms). It was a large room which mere neglect would have left +beautiful; but, unlike the rest of the house, it appeared to have been +methodically rendered depressing. His dour personality had—in his own +sanctum—overpowered the native beauty of his house. Even the charming +view of the old park was more than half hidden by blinds of an +indescribably gloomy brown, which challenged to a match the melancholy +of a drab carpet. Two or three good portraits were killed by their +surroundings—but Fillingford himself seemed in a deadly harmony with +his room. His thin gray face and whitening hair, his dull weary eyes, +and his rounded shoulders, made him and his room rather suggestive of a +funeral card—broad-edged in black, with a photograph of the late +lamented in the middle—looking as dead as the intimation told one that +unfortunately he was.</p> + +<p>He rose for a moment to shake hands, indicating a chair for me close by +the table at which he sat. The table was covered with papers and +bundles, very neatly arranged; everything in the room was in its place +to an inch.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Austin," he said in reply to my apology for so +early a visit, "and if you come on business, as you say, the hour isn't +at all too early for me." He was perfectly courteous—but dry as dust.</p> + +<p>"I come on Miss Driver's behalf. As you are probably aware, your son +Lord Lacey has done Miss Margaret Octon the honor of making her a +proposal of marriage. Miss Octon is in the position of being under Miss +Driver's care—I may perhaps call her her ward—and Miss Driver is +anxious to know whether Lord Lacey's proposal has your approval."</p> + +<p>"Has it Miss Driver's approval?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Most cordially—provided it has yours. Further than that she wouldn't +wish to go without knowing your views."</p> + +<p>He spoke slowly and deliberately. "You and I have approached this +subject before—incidentally, Mr. Austin. I have little doubt that you +gathered from that conversation that I had had another idea in my mind?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I rather understood that—from what you let fall."</p> + +<p>"That idea was entirely erroneous, I suppose? Or, at all events, if ever +entertained, is abandoned now?"</p> + +<p>We had already got on to delicate ground. "The situation seems to speak +for itself, Lord Fillingford. And I'm sure that the arrangement now +proposed has always been desired by Miss Driver."</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver has a very great influence over my son, I think," he +remarked.</p> + +<p>"I don't think she would wish to deny that she has favored this +arrangement so far as she properly and legitimately could. She was +naturally desirous of promoting Miss Octon's happiness. If in other +respects the marriage was a very desirable one—well, she was entitled +to think of that also."</p> + +<p>"You consider that Miss Octon's feelings are deeply engaged in this +matter?"</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, I think the two young people are as much in love as any +young couple could be."</p> + +<p>"I know my son's feelings; he has made me aware of them. And Miss Driver +thinks this marriage desirable?"</p> + +<p>"She charged me to express the great pleasure she would take in it, if +it met with your approval."</p> + +<p>He sat silent for a moment, his hand up to his mouth as he bit his +finger nail. For reasons I have given, to follow the trend of his +thoughts was quite beyond my powers of discernment.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I seem to her—and perhaps to you—a very ineffectual +person?" he went on in his even voice, with his dull eyes (like a gas +jet turned low to save the light!)—"I have the bad luck to stand +half-way between two schools—two generations—of ideas. When I was +born, men of my order still had fortunes; nowadays many of them have to +set out to make fortunes—or at least careers—like other people. I've +been stranded half-way. The fortunes of my house are gone; I've neither +the power nor the taste to try to retrieve them; and I'm too old. Public +life used to be the thing, but I've not the manners for that." His +chilly smile came again. "So I sit on, watching the ruins falling into +more utter ruin still."</p> + +<p>It was not for me to say anything to that. But I had a new sympathy for +him. His room, again, seemed to add a silent confirmation of all he +said.</p> + +<p>"Once I did try to retrieve the situation. You know how—and how the +attempt ended. It served me right—and I've learned the lesson. Now the +same woman asks me for my son."</p> + +<p>"Not for herself!"</p> + +<p>"No, thank God!"</p> + +<p>He said that very deliberately—not carried away, meaning to let me have +it for all it was worth. Well, my diplomacy failed—or I fear so. I did +not like to hear him thank God for being quit of Jenny.</p> + +<p>"She might have," I declared impulsively.</p> + +<p>"I think you're right. She's a very clever woman. Young men are wax in +hands like that."</p> + +<p>"Shall we get back from what isn't in question to what is, Lord +Fillingford?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think that the digression was due to me—not wholly anyhow. If +it were, I must seek excuse in the fact that I have lived a month under +that nightmare." I must have given some sign of protest or indignation. +"Well, I beg your pardon—under that impression."</p> + +<p>"From that, at least, you're relieved—by the present arrangement."</p> + +<p>"The proposed arrangement"—I noticed that he corrected my epithet—"has +not my approval, Mr. Austin. The other day I called it ridiculous. That +was perhaps too strong. But it is profoundly distasteful to me, and not +at all to my son's interest. I wish to say plainly that I am doing and +shall do my best to dissuade him from it."</p> + +<p>"If he won't be dissuaded?"</p> + +<p>"I venture to hope that we needn't discuss that eventuality. Time +enough, if it should occur."</p> + +<p>"Miss Octon's feelings——"</p> + +<p>"What Miss Driver has—properly and legitimately as you maintain—used +her efforts to promote, she will probably be able, with a little more +trouble, to undo. That seems to me not my affair."</p> + +<p>His defense was very quiet, very stubborn. He told me no more than +suited him. But I was entitled to lay hold of the two grounds of +objection which he had advanced; the arrangement was distasteful to +him—and not at all to his son's interest.</p> + +<p>"I thank you for your candor in putting me in possession of your views. +Miss Driver would wish me to be equally frank with you. She has +anticipated your objections."</p> + +<p>"She could hardly do otherwise," he remarked, smiling faintly.</p> + +<p>"As regards the first, her position is that this girl can't be held +responsible for anything in the past. She, at least, is blameless."</p> + +<p>"I occupy the position of my parents—and bear their burdens, Mr. +Austin. So do you of yours. It's the way of the world, I'm afraid, and +Miss Driver can't alter it."</p> + +<p>"She regards this sentimental objection——"</p> + +<p>"You would apply that term to my objection to allying my family with the +late Mr. Octon's?"</p> + +<p>I was not quite sure of my epithet myself. "I didn't say your objection +wasn't natural."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you might go so far as to admit that it is inevitable? I on my +part will admit that the girl herself appears to be unexceptionable. +Indeed, I liked her very much, when I met her at our friend Alison's. +That, however, doesn't in my view alter the case."</p> + +<p>"I understand. Will you permit me to pass to the other point you +mentioned—that of your son's interest?"</p> + +<p>"If you please," he said, with a slight inclination of his head, as he +leaned back in his chair. I could see that I had made no way with him. +The best that we had hoped for was not coming to pass. There was to be +no triumph of pure romance; even relief from the "nightmare" would not, +by itself, serve the turn.</p> + +<p>"Having placed Miss Octon in the position which she now occupies, Miss +Driver naturally charges herself with Miss Octon's future."</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver is well known to be generous. I had anticipated, in my +turn, that she would propose to make some provision for Miss Octon who, +as I understand, has only a very small income of her own."</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver has recently concluded negotiations for the purchase of +Oxley Lodge, together with the whole of Mr. Bertram Ware's estate. It is +estimated that, freed from encumbrances, that estate will produce a net +rental of three thousand pounds a year. Miss Driver will present the +house and estate to Miss Octon on her marriage."</p> + +<p>He raised his brows slightly, but made no other comment than, "I had +heard that she was in treaty for Ware's place. Aspenick told me."</p> + +<p>"She will settle on Miss Octon a sum of money sufficient to make up this +income to the sum of ten thousand pounds a year. This income she will +increase to twenty thousand on Lord Lacey's succession to the title. She +will also present Miss Octon, on her marriage, with a lump sum of fifty +thousand pounds. She will execute a settlement of funds sufficient to +raise the income to thirty thousand on her death—this income to be +settled on Miss Octon for life, with remainder among her children as she +and her husband shall jointly appoint. I am also to inform you that, +without undertaking any further legal obligation, it is Miss Driver's +present intention to leave to Miss Octon, or (if Miss Octon predeceases +her) to any son of hers who is heir to your title, the estate of +Breysgate and the greater part of her Catsford property. I need not tell +you that that property is of great and growing value. In short, subject +to public claims and certain comparatively small private ones, Miss +Octon is to be regarded as her natural heir no less absolutely and +completely than if she were her own and her only child."</p> + +<p>He heard me all through with an impassive face—even his brows had +returned to their natural level. "Miss Driver is a young woman herself. +She will probably marry."</p> + +<p>"It is possible, and therefore she limits her legal obligation to the +amount I have mentioned—approximately one half of her present income. I +am, however, to inform you in confidence that it is her fixed intention +not to marry, and that it is practically certain that she will not +depart from that resolution—in which case the ultimate arrangement +which I have indicated will come into effect."</p> + +<p>The bribe was out—and fewest possible words spent over it! Now—how +would he take it?</p> + +<p>His manner showed nothing. He sat silent for a minute or two. Then he +said, "It's certainly princely." He smiled slightly again. "I think I +must apologize for my word 'provision.' This is a very large fortune, +Mr. Austin—or seems like it to poor folks like the Laceys."</p> + +<p>"It's a very considerable fortune. As I have said, Miss Driver regards +Margaret Octon as in the place of her own daughter. Miss Driver thought +it only right that these circumstances should be placed before you as +possibly bearing on the decision you felt it your duty to make yourself, +or to recommend to your son."</p> + +<p>"Why does she do it?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I've just given you the reason which I was directed to give. I wasn't +commissioned to give any other. She regards Miss Octon in the light of +an only child—the natural object of her bounty and, in due course of +time, her natural successor."</p> + +<p>"We met once at Hatcham Ford, Mr. Austin," he said abruptly. "You +remember? I think you knew pretty well the state of things then existing +between Miss Driver and myself? I've charged you with possessing that +knowledge before. That piece of knowledge may enable you to understand +how the present proposition affects me. This isn't all love for Margaret +Octon."</p> + +<p>"No, not all love for Margaret. But now you're asking me for my opinion, +not for my message."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean it as a question. But I see that you agree with me. Then +you may understand that I can feel no gratitude for this offer. It—and +consequently the arrangement of which it is a part—would transform +everything here. It would accomplish the task which I haven't even had +the courage to try to accomplish. It would blot out my great failure. +But, coming whence it does and why it does, I can feel no gratitude for +it."</p> + +<p>"It would be very far from Miss Driver's thoughts to expect anything of +the kind."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he pushed back his chair, rose to his feet, and went to the +window, impatiently letting one of the ugly brown blinds fly up to the +ceiling by a tug at its cord. He stood there two or three minutes. His +back was still toward me when he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"I've been a steward more than an owner—a caretaker, I should rather +say. This would make my son and his son after him owners again. It's the +restoration of our house." His voice sank a little. "And it would come +through her and Leonard Octon!" Silence came again for a while; then he +turned round and faced me. "I've no right to decide this question. She +has taken the decision out of my hand by this. I have memories, +resentments, what I think to be wrongs and humiliations. Perhaps I have +cause for thinking so."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't sent here to deny that, Lord Fillingford. If that hadn't been +so, not I should have been here, but she who sent me."</p> + +<p>"And so," he went on slowly, "I'm no judge. I should sin against my +conscience if I were to judge. The question is not for me—let her go to +Amyas himself."</p> + +<p>I was glad at heart—we had escaped bullying; only in one moment of +temper had I hinted at it, and that moment seemed now far away. It was +easy to see the defects of this man, and easier still to feel them as a +vaguely chilling influence. His virtues were harder to see and to +appreciate—his justice, his candor of mind, his rectitude, the humility +beneath his pride.</p> + +<p>"Lord Lacey attaches enormous importance to your opinion. I know that as +well as you do. Can't you go a little further?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I had gone about as far as could be expected."</p> + +<p>"Not quite. Won't you tell your son what you would do if you were in his +place?"</p> + +<p>"I think you'd better not ask me to do that. I'm less sure of what I +should do than I am of what he will do. What he'll do will, I think, +content you—I might think too much of who his father is, and of who her +father was, and from whose hand these splendid benefits come. I think +I'd better not advise Amyas."</p> + +<p>"But you'll accept his decision? You'll not dissuade him?"</p> + +<p>"I daren't dissuade him," he answered briefly and turned his back on me +again. He added in a tone that at least strove to be lighter, "My +grandchildren might rise up and call me cursed! But if she looks for +thanks—not from this generation!"</p> + +<p>For the first time—though I sacrifice finally my character for morality +by that confession—I was genuinely, in my heart and not in my pretenses +or professions, inclined to regret the night at Hatcham Ford—the +discovery and the flight. All said, he was a man. After much conflict +they might have come together. If she had known then that it was man +against man—not man against name, title, position, respectability—why, +the case might have seemed changed, the issue have been different. But +he was so seldom able to show what he was. He had no spontaneous power +of expressing himself; the revelation had to be wrung out by +force—<i>peine forte et dure</i>; he had to be pressed almost to death +before he would plead for himself, for his case, for what he felt deep +down within him. All that was too late to think about—unless some day, +in the future, it might avail to make them decently friendly—avail +against the deep wound to pride on one side, against the obstinate +championship of the dead on the other.</p> + +<p>But to-day he had opened himself frankly enough to absolve me from +formalities.</p> + +<p>"Gratitude isn't asked. I imagine that the proper forms would be."</p> + +<p>He turned to me very quickly. "I'm on terms of acquaintance with a lady, +or I'm not. If I am, I hope that I omit no courtesy."</p> + +<p>"Nor give it grudgingly?"</p> + +<p>"She told you to say that?"</p> + +<p>"No—nor some other things I've said. But I know how she'd take any +paring down of what is requisite." I ventured a smile at him. "You would +have to call, I think, to-morrow." I let that sink in. "And Lady Sarah a +few days afterwards."</p> + +<p>He gave a short laugh. "You're speaking of matters of course, if this +thing is decided as it looks like being."</p> + +<p>I got up from my chair. "I go back with the promise of your neutrality?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"Neutrality is surrender," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. Young blood is in the question. Besides—as you see +yourself—the prospect may to a young man seem—rather dazzling."</p> + +<p>"Let me alone, Mr. Austin, let me alone, for God's sake!"</p> + +<p>"I go the moment you wish me to, Lord Fillingford. I carry my answer +with me—isn't it so?"</p> + +<p>Wonderfully recovering himself—with the most rapid transition to an +orderly self-composure—he came and sat down at his table again.</p> + +<p>"I shall see my son on this matter directly after lunch. It will be +proper to convey immediate news of our decision to Breysgate Priory. I +shouldn't like—in the event we both contemplate—to appear tardy in +paying my respects to Miss Driver. At what hour to-morrow afternoon do +you suppose that it would be convenient to her to receive me?"</p> + +<p>"I should think that about four o'clock would be quite convenient," I +answered.</p> + +<p>With that, I rose to my feet—my mission was ended. Neither quite as we +had hoped, nor quite as we had feared. We had not bullied—we had hardly +threatened. If we had bribed, we had not bribed the man himself. He—he +himself—would have had none of us; for him—himself—the betrayal at +Hatcham Ford governed the situation and his feelings about it. But he +saw himself as a trustee—a trustee for unborn generations of men, born +to inherit—yet, as things stood, born more than half disinherited! +There was no telling what Jenny thought of. Very likely she had thought +of that, when she made her bribe no mere provision—nor even merely that +"handsome thing"—but the new bestowal of a lost ancestral heritage. +Amid profound incompatibilities, they both had broad views, long +outlooks—a large conception of the bearings of what men do. Jenny had +not been so wrong in thinking of him—nor he in thinking that he could +take her with what she brought. Powerfully had Octon, in his rude +irresistible natural force, and its natural appeal, broken the current, +real if subtle, between them.</p> + +<p>I went up to him, holding out my hand. We had won the victory; I did not +feel very triumphant.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Austin," he said, as he shook hands, "we make a mistake if we +expect not to have done to us as we do to others, I learn that as I grow +older. Do you understand what I'm at, when I say this?"</p> + +<p>"Not very well, I confess, Lord Fillingford."</p> + +<p>"Once I went to Miss Driver, holding what I have—my old name, my old +place, my position, my title—I can't think of anything they've given me +except care and a hopeless sense of my own inadequacy—holding those in +my hand and asking for her money. I see now the opposite thing—she +comes holding the money, and asks for what I have. I didn't have my way. +She'll have hers."</p> + +<p>"There are the young people." It was all I had to say.</p> + +<p>"Ask her to leave me a little of my son. Because there's no doubt. +You've taken away all my weapons, Mr. Austin."</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd had this conversation with her—you two together."</p> + +<p>He relapsed into his formal propriety of demeanor. "I shall, I trust, +give Miss Driver no reason to complain of any want of courtesy—if Amyas +persists."</p> + +<p>"You've accepted it that he will."</p> + +<p>"Yes—that's truth," he said. "I may be expected at Breysgate to-morrow +at four."</p> + +<p>"Then try to make it happy!"</p> + +<p>He gave me a slow pondering look. "There is much between me and her—not +all against her nor for me. I've come to see that. I'll do my best, Mr. +Austin."</p> + +<p>He escorted me to the door, and walked in silence with me down a broad +walk, bordered on either side by stately trees, till we came to his +gates. He looked up at the venerable trees, then pointed to the +tarnished coronets that crowned the ironwork, itself rather rusty.</p> + +<p>"A fresh coat of paint wanted!" he observed with his chilly smile—and I +really did not know whether his remark involved a reference to our +previous conversation or not.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"<i>A fresh coat of paint wanted!</i>"</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>PEDIGREE AND BIOGRAPHY</h3> + + +<p>The forms were observed most punctiliously; but before the forms began +came Lacey, hot from his talk with Fillingford, amazed, almost +bewildered, protesting against Jenny's excessive munificence, +passionately anxious that she should be sure that he had not foreseen +it.</p> + +<p>"And how can you believe I never thought of it, when it's just what I +ought to have thought of—just the sort of thing you would be sure to +want to do?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't forgotten your appalling misery, if you have," she retorted, +smiling. "I was really afraid you'd kill yourself before Austin had time +to get to the Manor. It was quite convincing as to your innocence of my +wicked designs, believe me!"</p> + +<p>"But I can't possibly accept it," he declared. "It's so overwhelming!"</p> + +<p>"You're not asked to accept a farthing, so you needn't be the least +overwhelmed. I give it to Margaret. No bride is to go from Breysgate +without a dowry, Amyas. Come, you'd put up with ten times as much +overwhelming for her sake." She threatened him playfully: "You can't +have her with any less—so take your choice!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall always know who it is that we owe everything to." He +took her hand and kissed it. She looked at his handsome bowed head for a +moment.</p> + +<p>"If you ever do think of anybody in that sort of way, try not to think +of me only."</p> + +<p>Standing upright again, he looked at her gravely. "I know what you +mean." He flushed a little and hesitated. "I hope you know that—that he +and I parted—that day—in a—a friendly way?"</p> + +<p>"I know it—and I'm very glad," she said. "That's all about the past, +Amyas, in words at least. Keep your thoughts as kind as you can—and be +very gentle to Margaret when she wants to talk about him. That's a good +return to me, if you want to make any. And love my Margaret."</p> + +<p>"My love is for her. My homage is for you always—and all the affection +you'll take with it," he said soberly. "It's little she'd think of me if +that wasn't so," he added with a smile.</p> + +<p>Then came the forms, but the first of them—Fillingford's coming—was no +mere form to Jenny. She was not afraid or perturbed, as she had been +about meeting Alison—she had done with confession—but she was grave, +and preoccupied with it. She bade me look out for him and bring him to +her in the library. "You must leave us alone, and we'll join you at tea +in the garden afterwards. Take care that Margaret is there when we +come."</p> + +<p>Nothing can be known of what words passed between them, but Jenny gave a +general description of their conversation—it was not a long one, +lasting perhaps fifteen minutes. "He met me as if he'd never met me +before, he talked to me as if he'd never talked to me before. He was a +most courteous new acquaintance, hoping that our common interest in the +pair would be a bond of friendship between us. I followed the same +line—and there we were! But I couldn't have done it of myself. I tried +to thank him for that—that sort of message you gave me from him. The +first word sent him straight back into the deepest recesses of his +shell—and I said, 'Come and see Margaret.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll make better friends than that some day." I had no strong +hope of my words coming true.</p> + +<p>"You seem to have got nearer to him than I ever could. His shield's up +against—Eleanor Lacey! But he was kind to Margaret, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>Yes, he had been kind to Margaret. He took her hand and looked in her +eyes, then gravely kissed her on the forehead. "We must be friends, +Margaret," he said. "I know how much my boy loves you, and you are going +to take his mother's place in my family." There was the same curious +quality of careful deliberation as usual—the old absence of any touch +of spontaneity—the same weighing out of just the right measure; but he +was obviously sincere. He looked on her young beauty with a kindly +liking, and answered the appeal in her eyes by taking her hand between +both his and pressing it gently. Margaret looked round to Jenny with a +smile of glad shy triumph. Amyas came and put his arm through his +father's.</p> + +<p>"We three are going to be jolly good friends," he said.</p> + +<p>Far more stately was the next ceremonial—the one that was, by my +stipulation, to follow a few days later; yet I am afraid that we at +Breysgate did not take Lady Sarah's coming half so seriously as she took +it herself. She had disapproved of us so strongly before there was—to +her knowledge at least—any good ground for disapproval that her later +censures, however well-grounded, had lost weight. Sinners cannot take +much to heart the blame of those who have always expected to see them do +wrong and come to grief—and clapped themselves on the back as good +prophets over the event!</p> + +<p>Here was no private interview. The whole of her adherents surrounded +Jenny in the big drawing-room. Lady Sarah was announced by Loft—himself +highly conscious of the ceremonial nature of the occasion. With +elaborate courtesy Jenny walked to the door to meet her, spoke her +greeting, and led her to one of two large arm-chairs placed close to one +another; it was really like the meeting of a pair of monarchs, lately at +war but bound to appear unconscious of the disagreeable incidents of the +strife. Now peace was to be patched up by marriage. Margaret was called +from her place in the surrounding circle. She came—and with courage. We +had, I fear, deliberately worked her up to the resolution of being, from +the very beginning, not afraid of Lady Sarah—pointing out that any +signs of fear now would foreshadow and entail slavery for life. "You'll +get on much better if you stand up for yourself," Amyas himself assured +her.</p> + +<p>Margaret stood, awaiting welcome. Lady Sarah put on her eyeglasses, made +a careful inspection of her prospective niece, but offered no comment +whatever on her appearance. She dropped the glasses from her nose again, +and remarked, "I'm glad to become acquainted with you. I'm sure that you +intend to make Amyas a good wife and to do your duty in your new +station. Kiss me!" She turned her cheek to Margaret, who achieved the +salute with grace but, it must be confessed, without enthusiasm. Lady +Sarah did not return it.</p> + +<p>"There will be a great deal to do and think of at Oxley," she pursued, +"but I shall be very glad to assist you in every way."</p> + +<p>"But there'll be nothing to do, Lady Sarah. Jenny's doing +everything—every single thing."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to give them a few sticks to start housekeeping on," said +Jenny, with a lurking smile.</p> + +<p>"Old houses have a style of their own; one learns it by living in one," +Lady Sarah observed. Oxley was old—so was Fillingford Manor. Breysgate +was hardly middle-aged in comparison. Lady Sarah cast a glance round its +regrettable newness; Jenny's refurnishing had not availed to obliterate +all traces of that.</p> + +<p>"I'm not following this model," said Jenny. "I'm taking the best +advice—though I'm sure Margaret will be very glad of anything you can +tell her."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall, Lady Sarah. But the people Jenny's going to are +really the best people in the trade—they know all about it."</p> + +<p>"When you have seen the Manor—" Lady Sarah began impressively, but +Lacey—who had been, the moment before, in lamentable difficulties +between a yawn and a smile—cut in:</p> + +<p>"Ah, now when shall she come and see the Manor?"</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah was prepared with an invitation for the next day: that was +another of the forms, to be carried out precisely, as Fillingford had +undertaken. She turned to Jenny. "You've seen it, of course, Miss +Driver?"</p> + +<p>Jenny nodded serenely. Amyas flushed again—his fair skin betrayed every +passing feeling—as he said, "We shall be delighted if we can induce +Miss Driver to come, all the same."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very delighted, very, I'm sure," agreed Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"You'll enjoy showing it to Margaret all by yourself much better," said +Jenny to Amyas. "I'll come another day soon, and have tea with Lady +Sarah, if she'll let me."</p> + +<p>"Very delighted, very," Lady Sarah repeated.</p> + +<p>She rose to take leave; this time she did herself kiss Margaret on the +cheek. I think we were all waiting to see whether, in her opinion, the +terms of the treaty demanded a kiss for Jenny also. Lady Sarah decided +in the negative; Jenny's particularly erect head, as she held out her +hand, may have aided—and certainly welcomed—the conclusion. We +escorted her to her carriage with most honorable ceremony. Then we +sighed relief—save Chat, who had been, from a modest background, an +admiring spectator of the scene. "She's not very effusive," said Chat, +"but she has the grand manner, hasn't she, Mr. Austin?"</p> + +<p>"I never knew what it really meant till to-day, Miss Chatters."</p> + +<p>"She probably never hated anything so much in her whole life," Jenny +remarked to me, when we were next alone together, "so it's really hardly +fair to criticise her manner. But I rejoice from the bottom of my heart +that she didn't think it necessary to kiss me."</p> + +<p>"Since you escaped this time, I should think you might escape +altogether."</p> + +<p>"Well, the wedding day will be a point of danger," she reminded me, "but +I'm pretty safe against its becoming habitual. We both hate the idea of +it too much for that."</p> + +<p>Then—a week later—came the public announcement, made duly and in due +form in the <i>Times and Herald</i>: "Between Lord Lacey, son and heir of the +Right Honorable the Earl of Fillingford, and Margaret, daughter of the +late Leonard Octon, Esq." The sensation is not to be described. So many +things were explained, so many mysteries cleared up! Folks knew now why +Lacey had been so much at Breysgate, Sir John Aspenick learned for whom +Oxley Lodge was wanted, and Cartmell understood why he had been forced +to disburse that much grudged five hundred pounds for early possession. +For, with the announcement, came an inspired leading article, revealing +the main terms of the proposed settlement; a little discretion was +exercised as to the exact figures, but enough was said to show that, +besides the gift of the Oxley Grange estate as it stood, there were +large sums to pass both now and in the future. Let the parties have been +who they might, such a transaction would have commanded the universal +attention of the countryside; when it took place between Lord +Fillingford's heir and the late Mr. Octon's only daughter, people with +memories recalled and retold their stories, and found newcomers ready +indeed to listen. Once again Jenny filled all Catsford and all the +neighborhood with gossip, speculation, and applause.</p> + +<p>"I told you you'd have to undo the purse-strings to some style," I said +to Cartmell. "What do you think of this, Mr. Chancellor of the +Exchequer?"</p> + +<p>He winked his eye at me solemnly. "It's great," he said. "What a mind +she has! There she'll sit at Breysgate—with the town under one foot, +and Fillingford and Oxley under the other!"</p> + +<p>"Hardly that!" I smiled.</p> + +<p>"Look what she's giving now! Aye, and, my boy, think of what she's still +got left to give! If human nature goes on being what it's been ever +since I remember, Miss Driver's word will be law in both those +houses—if not now, in a few years at all events. It's a lot of +money—but it's not ill-spent. It makes her the queen of the place, +Austin!" He laughed in enjoyment. "I wish old Nick Driver could see +this! He'd be proud of his daughter."</p> + +<p>"However much or little that may be the result, I'm sure it was not her +object."</p> + +<p>He looked at me with a good-humored pity; he thought me a fool in +practical matters. "Have that as you like," he said, "but she won't +object to the result—nor waste it, either—I promise you." He chuckled +again. "She's got back at them with a vengeance!"</p> + +<p>It was true. Never even in the days before the flight did she make such +a figure. The Aspenicks surrendered at discretion, Fillingford Manor was +in forced alliance, Oxley Lodge was annexed; Hingston did not hold out +long, and Dormer, placated by a big price for his farms, put his pride +and his sulks where he had put the money. The town was at Jenny's feet, +even if it were an exaggeration to say that it was under them. +Timeservers bowed the knee to so much power; the charitable accepted so +splendid an atonement. If any still had conscientious doubts, Alison's +conduct was invoked as warrant and example. If he were enthusiastically +for the mistress of Breysgate now, who had a right to criticise—who +could arrogate to himself such merit as would entitle him to refuse to +forgive—even though a certain feature in the arrangement made it +forever impossible to forget?</p> + +<p>The chorus of applause was loud—and almost unanimous; but it was broken +by the voice of one sturdy dissenter—one to whom interest could not +appeal and, even had she wanted anything of Jenny, would have appealed +vainly—one on whom the sentimental side had no effect, since both her +sentiment and her charity moved in the strait fetters of unbending +rules. Mrs. Jepps was rigid and obstinate. She had not fallen to the +temptation of using the park road, as Lady Aspenick had: she would not +now bow the knee to Baal, however splendid and imposing a deity Baal +might be. Many had a try at shaking her—and Alison among the rest. He +told me about his effort, laughing as he confessed his failure.</p> + +<p>"I was well snubbed. She told me that Romish practices led to Romish +principles, and that where they led it was easy to see; but that she for +her part had other principles and didn't palter with them. When it +suited Miss Driver to explain, she was ready to listen. Till +then—nothing to do with the woman!"</p> + +<p>Jenny heard of this—her one signal failure (for she had extorted +alliance, if not loyalty, from Lady Sarah) with composure, almost with +pleasure, although pleasure of an unusual variety.</p> + +<p>"Well, I respect Mrs. Jepps," she said, "and I wish very much that she +wouldn't deprive herself of her drives in the park. I'd promise not to +bow to her! Mrs. Jepps is good for me, Austin—a fat, benevolent, +disapproving old skeleton at the feast—a skeleton with such fat +horses!—crying out 'You did it, you did it!' That's rather useful to +me, I expect. Still I should like "—she smiled mischievously—"to try +her virtue a little higher—with an invitation to the laying of the +foundation stone! I'm going to have that in four or five months, and Mr. +Bindlecombe is angling for a prince to do it. If Mrs. Jepps holds out +against the prince, she has my leave to hold out against me forever!"</p> + +<p>Still it was her instinct to conquer opponents, even when her judgment +indorsed their opposition and her feelings did not resent it.</p> + +<p>"If she were a young woman, you'd get her at last," I said, "but she's +very old. She'll go to heaven before you've time; I can only hope, for +the sake of this household, that she won't be made a door-keeper, or we +may as well give up all hope and take what chances await us elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Let her be," said Jenny. "She only serves me as all the rest would have +done, if I hadn't inherited Nick Driver's money. I've beaten them with +that."</p> + +<p>"That's not the way you beat Alison," I reminded her.</p> + +<p>Her face had been hard as she referred to the power of her money; it +softened at the mention of Alison's name. "It was more Margaret's +victory than mine. I like best to fight with Margaret; that's a clean +sword, Austin. When I'm fighting with and for her, then I'm right. But +right or wrong, you wouldn't have me beaten?"</p> + +<p>"You've no right to impute any such immoral doctrine to me."</p> + +<p>"By now, I think I have," she laughed. "I wonder how soon Lady Sarah +will tell Margaret all about me!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she will—and, if she did, you'd never know it."</p> + +<p>Jenny smiled. "Yes, I should. Some day—for no apparent reason—Margaret +would come and kiss me extraordinarily often." She gave a shake of her +head. "I'd rather it didn't happen, though."</p> + +<p>It is not to be supposed that, during her Fillingford campaign, Jenny +had neglected her Institute. No day had passed without talk or +correspondence about it, and she had been in constant consultation with +Bindlecombe, Chairman of the Committee of the Corporation in whose +charge the scheme was. Fruits of the activity had now appeared. The +gardens of Hatcham Ford had been laid waste. (O Bindlecombe, what of +your deceitful promises to spare them?) Only the shrubberies in front +(where Lacey had once hidden) remained of the old pleasure grounds. +Everywhere else were excavations, or lines that marked foundations to be +laid; already in some spots actual buildings poked their noses out of +the earth, their raw red brick shamed by the mellow beauty of the old +house which still stood and was to stand as the center of the +architectural scheme. Like all things with which Jenny had to do, the +plan had grown larger and larger as it progressed, took more ground, +embraced more projects, swallowed more money. It spread across the road, +absorbed the garden of Ivydene, and happily involved the destruction of +that odious villa of unpleasant memories. It made inroads on Cartmell's +money-bags till—what with it, and Margaret's great endowment, to say +nothing of Dormer's fields—rich Miss Driver was for two or three months +positively hard up for ready money! But the result was to be +magnificent; with every fresh brick and every additional sovereign, +Catsford grew more loyal, and the prospect of catching that prince more +promising. "And I'm going to get Mr. Bindlecombe made Mayor again next +year, and Amyas must pull all the wires in London town to get him a +knighthood. With Margaret and Amyas married, the Institute opened, and +Mr. Bindlecombe Sir John, I think I may sing <i>Nunc Dimittis</i>, Austin!"</p> + +<p>"We might perhaps look forward to a short period of peace," I admitted +cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Come down and look at the old place once more, before it's changed +quite out of recognition. Just you and I together!"</p> + +<p>We went down together one evening in the dusk. Architects and surveyors, +clerks, masons, and laborers had all gone home to their rest. The place +was quiet for the night, though the rents in the ground and the rising +walls spoke loud of the toils of the day. The old house stood unchanged +in the middle of it all; unchanged, too, was the path down which Jenny +had passed after she begged the loan of Lord Fillingford's carriage. She +took a key from her purse and opened the door of the house. "Let's go in +for a minute."</p> + +<p>She led me into the room where once I had waited for her—where, another +time, I had found her holding Powers's head, where Fillingford had come +upon us in the very instant when I had hailed safety as in sight. The +room was just as Octon had left it—his heavy dining table, his ugly +dining chairs, the two old leather ones on each side of the fireplace, +his spears and knives on the wall. And there, too, on the mantelpiece, +was the picture of the beautiful child which I had marked as missing +when I reached the house that night.</p> + +<p>"You've been here before," I said to Jenny, pointing at the picture.</p> + +<p>"I found it among his papers after he was at peace," she answered, +sitting down in one of the old leather chairs. "I knew this was its +place; it has returned to it. And there it will stay, so long as I or +Margaret have a voice here. Yes, I have been here before—and I shall be +here often. This is to be my room—sacred to me. From here I shall pull +the wires!" She smiled at me in a humorous sadness.</p> + +<p>"Not the wires of memory too often!" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Two men have made me and my life—made me what I am and my life what it +is and is to be. Here—in this place—they meet. This room is +Leonard's—all the great thing that's coming into being outside is my +father's. They appreciated one another, you've told me—and so has +Leonard. They won't mind meeting here, Austin."</p> + +<p>"They neither of them did justice to you!" I cried. "Was the Smalls and +the Simpsons justice? And was what he—the other—let you do justice +either?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—and I don't care," said Jenny. "They were both big men. +They had their work, their views, their plans, their occupations. They +had their big lives, their big selves, to look after. They couldn't +spend all the time thinking whether they were doing justice to a woman!"</p> + +<p>"That's a nice bit of special pleading!" I said. "But there, I'm not a +great man—as both of your big men have, on occasion, plainly told me."</p> + +<p>She smiled at me affectionately. "But one of them gave me—in the +end—all he had, and for the other I—in the end—would have given all I +had. Oh, yes, it's 'in the end' with us Drivers—because we must try to +get everything first—before we are ready to give! But in the end all +was given or ready to be given, and here they shall stay together. I +have no pedigree, Austin, and I shall have no biography. Here stand +both. At Hatcham Ford read my pedigree and my biography."</p> + +<p>The room grew dark, but her pale face stood out against the gloom. She +rose from her chair and came up to me.</p> + +<p>"My big ghosts are very gentle to me now—gentler than one would have +been in life, I think—gentler than the other was. You see, they're at +rest—their warfare is accomplished. I think mine's accomplished, too, +Austin, and I will rest."</p> + +<p>"Not you! Rest indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I may work, and yet be at peace in my heart. Come, my friend, let's go +back home. Amyas dines with us to-night. Let's go back home, to the +happiness which God—Allah the All-Merciful—has allowed me, sinner that +I am, to make."</p> + +<p>Through the soft evening we walked back to where Amyas and Margaret +were.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>A MAN OF BUSINESS</h3> + + +<p>Behold us all engaged in laying the foundation stone of the Memorial +Hall, which was to be the most imposing feature, if not the most useful +part, of the great Driver Institute. At least—not quite all of us. Lady +Sarah had begun, by now, her habit of making long sojourns at Bath, +returning to Fillingford Manor from time to time on visits. These were +usually arranged to coincide with Jenny's absences—in London or on the +Riviera—but one had not been arranged to coincide with the laying of +Jenny's foundation stone. And Mrs. Jepps was not there—although she had +been invited to have the honor of meeting His Royal Highness. There +Jenny had to accept defeat. But all the rest gathered round her from +borough and from county—Fillingford stiff but friendly, the Aspenicks +as friendly as if they had never been stiff, Dormer forgetful of his +injuries, Alison to bless the undertaking, Lord and Lady Lacey, fresh +back from their honeymoon, Cartmell—and Sir John Bindlecombe! He was +not actually Sir John yet, but His Royal Highness—who did his part +excellently, but confided wistfully to Cartmell that it was a splendid +hunting morning—was the bearer of a certain gracious intimation which +made us give the Mayor and Chairman of the Reception Committee brevet +rank at once. Sir John, then, held the mortar, while Jenny herself +handed the silver-gilt trowel. His Royal Highness well and truly laid +the stone, making thereafter a very pleasant little speech, concerning +the interest which his Family took and had always taken in institutes, +and the achievements and sterling British qualities of the man we were +there to commemorate, the late Mr. Nicholas Driver of Breysgate Priory. +It had been my privilege to coach His Royal Highness in the latter +subject, and he did full justice to my tuition. That done, he added a +few graceful words of his own concerning the munificent lady who stood +by his side, and the men of Catsford cheered Jenny till they were +hoarse. Amyas Lacey and Bindlecombe jumped forward to lead the cheers, +and four or five eminent men of science, whom I had contrived to induce +to come down, to add to the glory of the occasion, joined in with a +will. After that—luncheon for us, dinner for half the population; and a +brass band and a procession to conduct His Royal Highness back to the +station. His way lay past Mrs. Jepps's window; so I hope that she saw +him after all—without a stain on her principles!</p> + +<p>"That's done, anyhow!" said Jenny. "Now the real work can go ahead!"</p> + +<p>The next morning after this eventful day she dismissed me—summarily and +without warning.</p> + +<p>"You must go, Austin," she told me. "I've been very selfish, and I'm +very ignorant. Of course I realized that your books are very clever, +though I don't understand them, but till I heard what those great +pundits you brought down said about you, I didn't know what I was doing. +You mustn't waste your time writing notes and doing accounts for a +provincial spinster."</p> + +<p>"And are you going to write the notes and do the accounts yourself?" I +asked. "Or is Chat?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to pension Chat; she's got a horrid cough, poor thing, and +will do much better in a snug little villa at the seaside. I've got my +eye on one for her. I shall get a smart young woman, who dresses nicely, +looks pretty, and knows something about frocks and millinery—which last +necessary accomplishment of a lady's private secretary you have never +even tried to acquire."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, no more I have! It never occurred to me before. I left it to +Chat! Do you think I could learn it now?"</p> + +<p>"I've the very greatest doubts about it," answered Jenny, deceitfully +grave. "Go away, and write more books." She shook her head at me +reproachfully. "To think you never told me what I was doing!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're aware that you pay me four hundred pounds a year?"</p> + +<p>"So did my father. I suppose he knew what the proper salary was."</p> + +<p>"But you don't know perhaps how much I've made out of these marvelous +books in the last four years? It amounts to the sum of twenty-seven +pounds, four shillings, and twopence. Your new secretary will tell you +in a minute how much that works out at per annum."</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" murmured Jenny. "Oh, but, of course, I should——"</p> + +<p>"Of course you'd do nothing of the kind! Time has consecrated my claim +to be overpaid for inefficient services—but I won't be pensioned off +into a villa with Chat! Here I stay—or out I go—to a garret and +starvation!"</p> + +<p>"And fame!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, humbug! As for my work, you know I've more time here than I want."</p> + +<p>"You really won't go? I shall have the clever girl, you know—for the +notes and the accounts!"</p> + +<p>"Have the girl, and be—satisfied with that!"</p> + +<p>"You really refuse to leave me, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"This is my home," I said. "Here I stay till I'm turned out."</p> + +<p>She came to me and put her arm through mine. "If this is your home, +nobody shall turn you out—neither before my death nor after it. As long +as you live, the Old Priory is there for you. Even you can't refuse +that?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't refuse that. Let me stop in the Old Priory and do the odd +jobs."</p> + +<p>She pressed my arm gently. "It would have been very curious to have +nobody to talk to about things—especially about the old things." Her +voice shook a little. "Very curious—and very desolate, Austin!"</p> + +<p>It is now a good many years since we had that conversation—and we have +never had another like it. I must plead guilty to one or two books, but +I manage to save a little of Jenny's work from the clutches of the +clever girl, and old Cartmell is on the shelf—so I get some of his; and +still I dwell in the little Old Priory under the shadow of big Breysgate +on the hill above. Changes have come elsewhere. There are children at +Oxley Lodge; the succession is prosperously—and indeed amply—secured. +Mrs. Jepps has departed this life—stubborn to the last in her protest; +a donor, who was, and insisted on remaining, anonymous, has founded a +Jepps Scholarship at the Institute "as a mark of respect for her +honorable life and consistent high principle"; I am inclined to hope +that Mrs. Jepps is not permitted to know who that donor was. Lady Sarah +is gone, too, and Alison has been promoted to a suffragan bishopric. But +over us at Breysgate no change passes, save the gentle change of the +revolving years—unless it be that with every year Jenny's sway +increases. Down in Catsford they have nicknamed her "The Empress." The +seat of empire is at Breysgate; by her proconsuls she governs the +borough, Oxley, even Fillingford Manor; for though its rigid master has +never become her friend, has no more passed than he has fallen short of +the limits of punctilious courtesy which he accepted, yet in all +business matters he leans more and more on her. So her power spreads, +and will increase yet more when, in due course, Lacey and Margaret take +possession of the Manor. The despotism is veiled; she is only First +Citizen, like Augustus himself. She will grow no richer—"There is more +than enough for them after I am gone"—and pours back into the town and +the countryside all that she receives from them—<i>panem et +circenses</i>—and better things than that. The Institute is even such a +model to all institutes as Bindlecombe would have it; his dream of its +broadening into a university is an openly avowed project now. No wonder +that by public subscription they have placed a portrait of her in the +Memorial Hall, facing the picture of Nicholas Driver which she herself +presented. From where she hangs, she can see the old roof of Hatcham +Ford, surrounded and dwarfed by the great buildings that she has +erected. The painter of Jenny's portrait never saw the Eleanor Lacey at +Fillingford Manor—indeed it has gone from its old place, and is to be +found somewhere in a cupboard, as I suspect—but the likeness is +indubitably there, all undesigned. You see it in the firm lips and jaw, +in the straight brows on the pale face, above all in the hazel eyes, so +bright and yet profound. Eleanor Lacey had little luck after her +luckless flirtation. Fortune has been kinder to Jenny. She has a full +life, a good life, a very useful one. The story has grown old; the name +of Octon is merged; time has obliterated well-nigh all the tracks she +made in her evening flight from Hatcham Ford.</p> + +<p>Yet not in her heart; there is no obliteration there, but rather an +indelible stamp; it may be covered up—it cannot be sponged or scratched +out. For her, Leonard is not forgotten; he triumphs. He lives again in +the son of Margaret his daughter; in the person of that son—his +grandson—he is to reign where he was spurned. That is the triumph of +the scheme she made—and to her it is Leonard's triumph. In her eyes her +own triumphs are little beside that.</p> + +<p>"My day is done," she said to me once. "Bad it was, I suppose, and God +knows that it was short! But it was my day, and it is over." But she did +not speak in sorrow. "I am content—and at peace." She broke into a +smile. "Don't think of me as a woman any more. Think of me as just a man +of business!"</p> + +<p>A man of business she is—and a very fine one; tactful and conciliatory, +daring and subtle. But not a woman? Never was there more a woman since +the world began—never one who leaned more on her woman's power, nor +turned the arts of woman more to practical account. She has had many +wooers; Dormer returned to the charge three or four times, till at last +he fell back—in a mood little above resignation—on Eunice Aspenick; we +have had an ambitious young merchant from Catsford, a curate or two, and +one splendid aspirant, a former brother-officer of Lacey's, a man of +great name and station. All went away with the same answer—but all were +sent away friends, praisers of Jenny, convinced, I think, that they had +only just failed and that no other man could have come so near success. +There lies her instinct, and she cannot help using it—sometimes for her +purposes, sometimes for her instinctive pleasure, which is still to lose +no adherent, and to make friends even in refusing to be more. She will +not marry, but she is marriageable—eminently marriageable—and that is +as much an asset now as when she threatened to use it against Lord +Fillingford if he would not take her bribe. Not a woman? How little we +know of ourselves, Jenny! Is not her great triumph—Leonard's triumph, +for which she planned and wrought and risked—is it not a woman's +triumph all over, and her satisfaction in it supremely feminine?</p> + +<p>A woman—and, to my thinking, a great woman, too; full of what we call +faults, full of what we hail as virtues—and quite with a mind of her +own as to the value of these qualities—a mind by no means always moving +on orthodox lines. Stubborn, self-willed, tortuous, jealous of +domination, tenacious of liberty (at what cost and risk she had clung to +that till the last moment!), not patient of opposition, suspicious of +any claim to influence or to guide her; generous to magnificence, warm +in affection, broad in mind, very farseeing, full of public spirit, +never daunted, loyal to death, and beyond the grave—that is Jenny—and +yet not all Jenny, for it leaves out the gracious puzzling woman in whom +all these things are embodied; the woman with her bursts of temper, her +fits of petulance, her joyous playfulness, her sudden looks and gestures +of love or friendship; her smiles gay or mysterious, her eyes so full of +fun or so full of thought, flashing while she scolds, mocking while she +cheats, caressing when she cajoles, so straight and honest when +suddenly, after all this, she lays her hand on your arm and says "Dear +friend!" Such is "The Empress"—the great Miss Driver of Breysgate +Priory. Such is my dear friend Jenny, whom I serve in freedom and love +in comradeship. I would that she were what they call her! None fitter +for the place since Great Elizabeth—whom, by the way, she seems to me +to resemble in more than one point of character and temperament.</p> + +<p>So we live side by side, and work and play together—with love—but with +no love-making. There are obvious reasons on my side for that last +proviso. I am her servant; the fourth part of twenty-seven pounds per +annum represents, as I have hinted, the most I have earned save the +salary she pays me. I should make a very poor Prince Consort—and Jenny +would never trust me again as long as she lived—though it is equally +certain that she would never tell me so. And there's another reason, +accounting not for my not having done it, but for the odder fact—my not +having wanted to do it. Humble man that I am, yet I was born free and am +entitled not only to the pursuit of happiness, but to the retention of +my liberty; the latter offers, in my judgment, the most favorable +opportunity for the former. Jenny likes liberty—so do I. As we are, we +can both enjoy it. If by any miraculous freak Jenny had made me her +husband, she would have made me her slave also. Or would Jenny have been +the slave? I fancy not. I know her—and myself—too well to cherish that +idea; which is indeed, in the end, little more attractive.</p> + +<p>For her decision is right for herself, as once I told her. She has found +happiness—more happiness than would have come to her if she had never +fled from Hatcham Ford, more happiness, I dare to think (though never to +say!), than would in the end have been hers, had Octon never faced the +Frenchman's pistol at Tours. She is not made for an equal partnership, +no more than for a submission or surrender. How hardly she accepted a +partnership at all, even with the man whose love has altered all her +life! It is her nature to be alone, and through a sore ordeal she came +to that discovery. Once, I think, and in just one sentence she showed me +her true heart, what her true and deepest instinct was—even about +Leonard Octon.</p> + +<p>We were sitting by the fire one evening alone. Talk dragged and she +looked listless, tired after a busy day's work, thoughtful and brooding.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking of?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my thoughts had gone back to the early days here. I was thinking +how pleasant it would be if we had Leonard back at Hatcham Ford, +dropping in after dinner."</p> + +<p>At Hatcham Ford, mind you! Dropping in after dinner! That was the time +to which her wandering thoughts flew back—that the point on which their +flight instinctively alighted. Not the heart-trying, heart-testing, +perhaps heart-breaking, days of union and partnership, but the days of +liberty and friendship.</p> + +<p>I must have smiled to myself over her answer, for she said sadly, yet +with a smile herself, "I can't help it! That was what I was thinking, +Austin."</p> + +<p>So think, dear mistress—and not on the harder days! Defiance, doubt, +despair, are over. Abide in peace.</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Great Miss Driver, by Anthony Hope + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT MISS DRIVER *** + +***** This file should be named 33293-h.htm or 33293-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/2/9/33293/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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