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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36384-8.txt b/36384-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..737382c --- /dev/null +++ b/36384-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14840 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Squire's Daughter, by Silas K(itto) Hocking + +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 Squire's Daughter + +Author: Silas K(itto) Hocking + +Release Date: June 11, 2011 [EBook #36384] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER + + BY SILAS K. HOCKING + +AUTHOR OF "PIONEERS" "THE FLAMING SWORD" "THE WIZARD'S LIGHT" "THE +SCARLET CLUE" ETC. + + + _WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS_ + BY ARTHUR TWIDLE + + Fourth Edition + + LONDON + FREDERICK WARNE & CO. + AND NEW YORK + 1906 + + (_All Rights Reserved_) + + + + +[Illustration: "IF YOU CAN ONLY BRING YOURSELF TO SAY YES, I WILL DO MY +BEST TO MAKE YOU THE HAPPIEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD."] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. AN IMPERIOUS MAIDEN + +II. APPREHENSIONS + +III. A NEW SENSATION + +IV. A BITTER INTERVIEW + +V. THE CHANCES OF LIFE + +VI. WAITING FOR THE BLOW TO FALL + +VII. DAVID SPEAKS HIS MIND + +VIII. CONFLICTING EMOTIONS + +IX. PREPARING TO GO + +X. RALPH SPEAKS HIS MIND + +XI. UNCONSCIOUS SPEECH + +XII. DOROTHY SPEAKS HER MIND + +XIII. GATHERING CLOUDS + +XIV. THE STORM BURSTS + +XV. SIR JOHN GETS ANGRY + +XVI. THE BIG HOUSE + +XVII. DEVELOPMENTS + +XVIII. A CONFESSION + +XIX. A SILENT WELCOME + +XX. WILLIAM MENIRE'S RED-LETTER DAY + +XXI. A GOOD NAME + +XXII. A FRESH START + +XXIII. THE ROAD TO FORTUNE + +XXIV. LAW AND LIFE + +XXV. IN LONDON TOWN + +XXVI. TRUTH WILL OUT + +XXVII. HOME AGAIN + +XXVIII. A TRYING POSITION + +XXIX. A QUESTION OF MOTIVES + +XXX. SELF AND ANOTHER + +XXXI. A PARTNERSHIP + +XXXII. FOOD FOR REFLECTION + +XXXIII. A PROPOSAL + +XXXIV. A FRESH PAGE + +XXXV. FAILURE OR FORTUNE + +XXXVI. THE PENALTY OF PROSPERITY + +XXXVII. LIGHT AND SHADOW + +XXXVIII. LOVE AND LIFE + +XXXIX. PERPLEXING QUESTIONS + +XL. LOVE OR FAREWELL + +XLI. THE TABLES TURNED + +XLII. COALS OF FIRE + +XLIII. SIR JOHN ATONES + + + + +List of Illustrations + + +"IF YOU CAN ONLY BRING YOURSELF TO SAY YES, I WILL DO MY BEST TO MAKE +YOU THE HAPPIEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD." + +"SIR JOHN RAISED HIS HUNTING-CROP, AND STRUCK AT RALPH WITH ALL HIS +MIGHT." + +"RUTH THREW HER ARMS ABOUT HER MOTHER'S NECK AND BURST INTO A PASSION OF +TEARS." + +"WILLIAM, BREATHLESS AND EXCITED, BURST IN UPON HIM." + + + + +THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN IMPERIOUS MAIDEN + + +The voice was soft and musical, but the tone was imperative. + +"I say, young man, open that gate." + +The young man addressed turned slowly from the stile on which he had +been leaning, and regarded the speaker attentively. She was seated on a +high-stepping horse with that easy grace born of long familiarity with +the saddle, and yet she seemed a mere girl, with soft round cheeks and +laughing blue eyes. + +"Come, wake up," she said, in tones more imperious than before, "and +open the gate at once." + +He resented the tone, though he was charmed with the picture, and +instead of going toward the gate to do her bidding he turned and began +to climb slowly over the stile. + +She trotted her horse up to him in a moment, her eyes flashing, her +cheeks aflame. She had been so used to command and to prompt obedience +that this insubordination on the part of a country yokel seemed nothing +less than an insult. + +"You dare disobey me?" she said, her voice thrilling with anger. + +"Of course I dare," he answered, without turning his head. "I am not +your servant." + +The reply seemed to strike her dumb for a moment, and she reined back +her horse several paces. + +He turned again to look at her, then deliberately seated himself on one +of the posts of the stile. + +There was no denying that she made a pretty picture. With one foot on +the top rung of the stile he was almost on a level with her, and he was +near enough to see her bosom heave and the colour come and go upon her +rounded cheeks. + +His heart began to beat uncomfortably fast. He feared that he had played +a churlish part. She looked so regal, and yet so sweet, that it seemed +almost as if Nature had given her the right to command. And who was he +that he should resent her imperious manner and refuse to do her bidding? + +He had gone too far, however, to retreat. Moreover, his dignity had been +touched. She had flung her command at him as though he were a serf. Had +she asked him to open the gate, he would have done so gladly. It was the +imperious tone that he resented. + +"I did not expect such rudeness and incivility here of all places," she +said at length in milder tones. + +His cheeks flamed at that, and an angry feeling stole into his heart. +Judged by ordinary standards, he had no doubt been rude, and her words +stung him all the more on that account. He would have played a more +dignified part if he had pocketed the affront and opened the gate; but +he was in no mood to go back on what he had done. + +"If I have been rude and uncivil, you are to blame as much as I--and +more," he retorted angrily. + +"Indeed?" she said, in a tone of lofty disdain, and an amused smile +played round the corners of her mouth. She was interested in the young +man in spite of his incivility. Now that she had an opportunity of +looking more closely at him, she could not deny that he had no common +face, while his speech was quite correct, and not lacking in dignity. + +"I hope I am not so churlish as not to be willing to do a kindness to +anybody," he went on rapidly, "but I resent being treated as dirt by +such as you." + +"Indeed? I was not aware----" she began, but he interrupted her. + +"If you had asked me to open the gate I would have done so gladly, and +been proud to do it," he went on; "but because I belong to what you are +pleased to call the lower orders, you cannot ask; you command, and you +expect to be obeyed." + +"Of course I expect to be obeyed," she said, arching her eyebrows and +smiling brightly, "and I am surprised that you----" + +"No doubt you are," he interrupted angrily. "But if we are lacking in +good manners, so are you," and he turned and leaped off the stile into +the field. + +"Come back, you foolish young man." + +But if he heard, he did not heed; with his eyes fixed on a distant +farmhouse, he stalked steadily on, never turning his head either to the +right or the left. + +For a moment or two she looked after him, an amused smile dimpling her +cheeks; then she turned her attention to the gate. + +"I wonder what I am to do now?" she mused. "I cannot unfasten it, and if +I get off, I shall never be able to mount again; on the other hand, I +hate going back through the village the way I came. I wonder if Jess +will take it?" and she rode the mare up to the gate and let her smell at +the rungs. + +It was an ordinary five-barred gate, and the ground was soft and +springy. The road was scarcely more than a track across a heathery +common. Beyond the gate the road was strictly private, and led through a +wide sweep of plantation, and terminated at length, after a circuit of a +mile or two, somewhere near Hamblyn Manor. + +Jess seemed to understand what was passing through her mistress's mind, +and shook her head emphatically. + +"You can do it, Jess," she said, wheeling the mare about, and trotting +back a considerable distance. "I know you can," and she struck her +across the flank with her riding crop. + +Jess pricked up her ears and began to gallop toward the gate; but she +halted suddenly when within a few feet of it, almost dislodging her +rider. + +The young lady, however, was not to be defeated. A second time she rode +back, and then faced the gate once more. + +Jess pricked up her ears, and shook her head as if demanding a loose +rein, and then sprang forward with the swiftness of a panther. But she +took the gate a moment too soon; there was a sharp crash of splintered +wood, a half-smothered cry of pain, and horse and rider were rolling on +the turf beyond. + +Ralph Penlogan caught his breath and turned his head suddenly. The sound +of breaking wood fell distinctly on his ear, and called him back from +his not over-pleasant musings. He was angry with himself, angry with the +cause of his anger. He had stood up for what he believed to be his +rights, had asserted his opinions with courage and pertinacity; and yet, +for some reason, he was anything but satisfied. The victory he had +won--if it was a victory at all--was a barren one. He was afraid that he +had asserted himself at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and before +the wrong person. + +The girl to whom he had spoken, and whose command he had defied, was not +responsible for the social order against which he chafed, and which +pressed so hardly on the class to which he belonged. She was where +Providence had placed her just as much as he was, and the tone of +command she had assumed was perhaps more a matter of habit than any +assumption of superiority. + +So within three minutes of leaving the stile he found himself excusing +the fair creature to whom he had spoken so roughly. That she had a sweet +and winning face there was no denying, while the way she sat her horse +seemed to him the embodiment of grace. + +Who she was he had not the remotest idea. To the best of his +recollection he had never seen her before. That she belonged to what was +locally termed the gentry there could be no doubt--a visitor most likely +at one or other of the big houses in the neighbourhood. + +Once the thought flashed across his mind that she might be the daughter +of Sir John Hamblyn, but he dismissed it at once. In the first place, +Sir John's daughter was old enough to be married--in fact, the wedding +day had already been fixed--while this young lady was a mere girl. She +did not look more than seventeen if she looked a day. And in the second +place, it was inconceivable that such a mean, grasping, tyrannical +curmudgeon as Sir John could be the father of so fair a child. + +He had seen Dorothy Hamblyn when she was a little girl in short frocks, +and his recollection of her was that she was a disagreeable child. If he +remembered aright, she was about his own age--a trifle younger. + +"Why, I have turned twenty," he mused. "I am a man. She's only a girl." + +So he dismissed the idea that she was Sir John's daughter who returned +from school only about six months ago, and who was going to marry Lord +Probus forthwith. + +Suddenly he was recalled from his musings by the crash of the breaking +gate. Was that a cry also he heard? He was not quite sure. A dozen vague +fears shot through his mind in a moment. For a second only he hesitated, +then he turned swiftly on his heel and ran back the way he had come. + +The field was a wide one, wider than he had ever realised before. He was +out of breath by the time he reached the stile, while his fears had +increased with every step he took. + +He leaped over the stile at a bound, and then stood still. Before him +was the broken gate, and beyond it---- + +For a moment a mist swam before his eyes, and the ground seemed to be +slipping away from beneath his feet. Vague questions respecting his +responsibility crowded in upon his brain; the harvest of his +churlishness had ripened with incredible swiftness. The word "guilty" +seemed to stare at him from every point of the compass. + +With a strong effort he pulled himself together, and advanced toward the +prostrate figure. The horse stood a few paces away, trembling and +bleeding from the knees. + +He was almost afraid to look at the girl's face, and when he did so he +gave a loud groan. There was no movement, nor any sign of life. The eyes +were closed, the cheeks ghastly pale, while from underneath the soft +brown hair there ran a little stream of blood. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +APPREHENSIONS + + +Sir John Hamblyn was walking up and down in front of his house, fuming, +as usual, and with a look upon his face that betokened acute anxiety. +Why he should be so anxious he hardly knew. There seemed to be no +special reason for it. Everything appeared to be moving along +satisfactorily, and unless the absolutely unexpected happened, there was +no occasion for a moment's worry. + +But it was just the off-chance of something happening that irritated +him. The old saying, "There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip," kept +flitting across his brain with annoying frequency. If he could only get +another month over without accident of any kind he would have peace; at +least, so he believed. + +Lord Probus was not the man to go back on his word, and Lord +Probus had promised to stand by him, provided he became his--Sir +John's--son-in-law. + +It seemed a little ridiculous, for Lord Probus was the older man of the +two, and to call a man his son-in-law who was older than himself was not +quite in harmony with the usual order of things. But then, what did it +matter? There were exceptions to every rule, and such exceptions were of +constant occurrence. + +When once the marriage knot was tied, a host of worries that had +harassed him of late would come to an end. He had been foolish, no +doubt. He ought to have lived within his income, and kept out of the way +of the sharks of the Turf and the Stock Exchange. He had a handsome +rent-roll, quite sufficient for his legitimate wants; and if things +improved, he might be able to raise rents all round. Besides, if he had +luck, some of the leases might fall in, which would further increase his +income. But the off-chance of these things was too remote to meet his +present needs. He wanted immediate help, and Lord Probus was his only +hope. + +Fortunately for him, Dorothy was not old enough to see the tragedy of +such an alliance. She saw only the social side--the gilt and glitter and +tinsel. The appeal had been made to her vanity and to her love of pretty +and costly things. To be the mistress of Rostrevor Castle, to bear a +title, to have a London house, to have any number of horses and +carriages, to go to State functions, to be a society dame before she was +twenty--all these things appealed to her girlish pride and vanity, and +she accepted the offer of Lord Probus with alacrity, and with scarcely a +moment's serious thought. + +No time was lost in hurrying forward arrangements for the wedding. The +sooner the contract was made secure the better. Any unnecessary delay +might give her an excuse for changing her mind. Sir John felt that he +would not breathe freely again until the wedding had taken place. + +Now and then, when he looked at his bright-eyed, happy, imperious girl, +his heart smote him. She had turned eighteen, but she was wonderfully +girlish for her years, not only in appearance but in manner, and in her +outlook upon life. She knew nothing as yet of the ways of the world, +nothing of its treachery and selfishness. She had only just escaped from +the seclusion of school and the drudgery of the classroom. She felt free +as a bird, and the outlook was just delightful. She was going to have +everything that heart could desire, and nothing would be too expensive +for her to buy. + +She was almost as eager for the wedding to take place as was her father; +for directly the wedding was over she was going out to see the +world--France, Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Egypt. They were going to +travel everywhere, and travel in such luxury as even Royalty might envy. +Lord Probus had already given her a foretaste of what he would do for +her by presenting her with a beautiful mare. Jess was the earnest of +better things to come. + +If Dorothy became imperious and slightly dictatorial, it was not to be +wondered at. Nothing was left undone or unsaid that would appeal to her +vanity. She was allowed her own way in everything. + +Sir John was desperately afraid that the illusions might fade before the +wedding day arrived. Financially he was in the tightest corner he had +ever known, and unless he could tap some of Lord Probus's boundless +wealth, he saw before him long years of mean economies and humiliating +struggles with poverty. He saw worse--he saw the sale of his personal +effects to meet the demands of his creditors, he saw the lopping off of +all the luxuries that were as the breath of life to him. + +Hence, though deep down in his heart he loathed the thought of his +little girl marrying a man almost old enough to be her grandfather, he +was sufficiently cornered in other ways to be intensely anxious that the +wedding should take place. Lord Probus was the head of a large brewery +and distilling concern. His immense and yearly increasing revenues came +mainly from beer. How rich he was nobody knew. He hardly knew himself. +He had as good as promised Sir John that if the wedding came off he +would hand over to him sufficient scrip in the great company of which he +was head to qualify him--Sir John--for a directorship. The scrip could +be paid for at Sir John's convenience. The directorship should be +arranged without undue delay. The work of a director was not exacting, +while the pay was exceedingly generous. + +Sir John had already begun to draw the salary in imagination, and to +live up to it. Hence, if anything happened now to prevent the wedding, +it would be like knocking the bottom out of the universe. + +In the chances of human life, it did not seem at all likely that +anything would happen to prevent what he so much desired. It seemed +foolish to worry himself for a single moment. And yet he did worry. +There was always that off-chance. Nobody could ward off accidents or +disease. + +Dorothy had gone out riding alone. She refused to have a groom with her, +and, of course, she had to have her own way; but he was always more or +less fidgety when she was out on these expeditions. + +And yet it was not the fear of accidents that really troubled him. What +he feared most was that she might become disillusioned. As yet she had +not awakened to the meaning and reality of life. She was like a child +asleep, wandering through a fairyland of dreams and illusions. But she +might awake at any moment--awake to the passion of love, awake to the +romance as well as the reality of life. + +The appeal as yet had been to her vanity--to her sense of +self-importance. There had been no appeal to her heart or affections. +She did not know what love was, and if she married Lord Probus it would +be well for her if she never knew. But love might awake when least +expected; her heart might be stirred unconsciously. Some Romeo might +cross her path, and with one glance of his eyes might change all her +life and all her world; and a woman in love was more intractable than a +comet. + +Sir John would not like to be brought into such a position that he would +have to coerce his child. Spendthrift that he was, and worse, with a +deep vein of selfishness that made him intensely unpopular with all his +tenants, he nevertheless loved Dorothy with a very genuine affection. +Geoffrey, his son and heir, had never appealed very strongly to his +heart. Geoffrey was too much like himself, too indolent and selfish. But +Dorothy was like her mother, whose passing was as the snapping of a +rudder chain in a storm. + +The gritting of wheels on the gravel caused Sir John to turn suddenly on +his heel, and descending the steps at the end of the terrace, he walked +a little distance to meet the approaching carriage. + +Lord Probus was not expected, but he was not the less welcome on that +account. + +"The day is so lovely that I thought I would drive across to have a peep +at you all," Lord Probus said, stepping nimbly out of the landau. + +He was a dapper man, rather below the medium height, with a bald head +and iron-grey, military moustache. He was sixty years of age, but looked +ten years younger. + +"I am delighted to see you," Sir John said, with effusion, "and I am +sure Dorothy will be when she returns." + +"She is out, is she?" + +"She is off riding as usual. Since you presented her with Jess, she has +spent most of her time in the saddle." + +"She is a good horsewoman?" + +"Excellent. She took to riding as a duck takes to water. She rode with +the hounds when she was ten." + +"I wish I could ride!" Lord Probus said, reflectively. "I believe horse +exercise would do me good; but I began too late in life." + +"Like skating and swimming, one must start young if he is to excel," Sir +John answered. + +"Yes, yes; and youth passes all too quickly." And his lordship sighed. + +"Well, as to that, one is as young as one feels, you know." And Sir John +led the way into the house. + +Lord Probus followed with a frown. Sir John had unwittingly touched him +on a sore spot. If he was no younger than he felt, he was unmistakably +getting old. He tried to appear young, and with a fair measure of +success; tried to persuade himself that he was still in his prime; but +every day the fact was brought painfully home to him that he had long +since turned the brow of the hill, and was descending rapidly the other +side. Directly he attempted to do what was child's play to him ten years +before, he discovered that the spring had gone out of his joints and the +nerve from his hand. + +He regretted this not only for his own sake, but in some measure for +Dorothy's. He never looked into her fresh young face without wishing he +was thirty years younger. She seemed very fond of him at present. She +would sit on the arm of his chair and pat his bald head and pull his +moustache, and call him her dear, silly old boy; and when he turned up +his face to be kissed, she would kiss him in the most delightful +fashion. + +But he could not help wondering at times how long it would last. That +she was fond of him just now he was quite sure. She told him in her +bright, ingenuous way that she loved him; but he was not so blind as not +to see that there was no passion in her love. In truth, she did not know +what love was. + +He was none the less anxious, however, on that account, to make her his +wife, but rather the more. The fact that the best part of his life was +gone made him all the more eager to fill up what remained with delight. +He might reckon upon another ten years of life, at least, and to possess +Dorothy for ten years would be worth living for--worth growing old for. + +"You expect Dorothy back soon?" Lord Probus questioned, dropping into an +easy-chair. + +"Any minute, my lord. In fact, I expected her back before this." + +"Jess has been well broken in. I was very careful on that point." And +his lordship looked uneasily out of the window. + +"And then, you know, Dorothy could ride an antelope or a giraffe. She is +just as much at ease in a saddle as you are in that easy-chair." + +"Do you know, I get more and more anxious as the time draws near," his +lordship said absently. "It would be an awful blow to me if anything +should happen now to postpone the wedding." + +"Nothing is likely to happen," Sir John said grimly, but with an +apprehensive look in his eyes. "Dorothy is in the best of health, and so +are you." + +"Well, yes, I am glad to say I am quite well. And Dorothy, you think, +shows no sign of rueing her bargain?" + +"On the contrary, she has begun to count the days." And Sir John walked +to the window and raised the blind a little. + +"I shall do my best to make her happy," his lordship said, with a smile. +"And, bachelor as I am, I think I know what girls like." + +"There's no doubt about that," was the laughing answer. "But who comes +here?" And Sir John ran to the door and stepped out on the terrace. + +A boy without coat, and carrying his cap in his hand, ran eagerly up to +him. His face was streaming with perspiration, and his eyes ready to +start out of their sockets. + +"If you please, sir," he said, in gasps, "your little maid has been and +got killed!" + +"My little maid?" Sir John questioned. "Which maid? I did not know any +of the servants were out." + +"No, not any servant, sir; but your little maid, Miss Dorothy." + +"My daughter!" he almost screamed. And he staggered up against the porch +and hugged one of the pillars for support. + +"Thrown from her horse, sir, down agin Treliskey Plantation," the boy +went on. "Molly Udy says she reckons her neck's broke." + +Sir John did not reply, however. He could only stand and stare at the +boy, half wondering whether he was awake or dreaming. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A NEW SENSATION + + +Ralph Penlogan's first impulse was to rush off into St. Goram and rouse +the village; but on second thoughts he dropped on his knees by the side +of the prostrate girl, and placed his ear close to her lips. For a +moment or two he remained perfectly still, with an intent and anxious +expression in his eyes; then his face brightened, and something like a +smile played round the corners of his lips. + +"No, she is not dead," he said to himself. And he heaved a great sigh of +relief. + +But he still felt doubtful as to the best course to take. To leave the +unconscious girl lying alone by the roadside seemed to him, for some +reason, a cruel thing to do. She might die, or she might return to +consciousness, and find herself helpless and forsaken, without a human +being or even a human habitation in sight. + +"Oh, I hope she will not die," he said to himself, half aloud, "for if +she does I shall feel like a murderer." And he put his ear to her lips a +second time. + +No, she still breathed, but the rivulet of blood seemed to be growing +larger. + +He raised her gently and let her head rest against his knee while he +examined the wound underneath her auburn hair. He tried his best to +repress a shudder, but failed. Then he pulled a handkerchief from his +pocket, and proceeded to bind it tightly round her head. How pale her +face was, and how beautiful! He had never seen, he thought, so lovely a +face before. + +He wondered who she was and where she lived. + +The horse whinnied a little distance away, and again the question darted +through his mind, What was he to do? If he waited for anyone to pass +that way he might wait a week. The road was strictly private, and there +was a notice up that trespassers would be prosecuted. It had been a +public road once--a public road, indeed, from time immemorial--but Sir +John had put a stop to that. In spite of protests and riots, and +threatened appeals to law, he had won the day, and no man dared walk +through the plantation now without first asking his consent. + +"She can't be very heavy," Ralph thought, as he looked down into her +sweet, colourless face. "I'll have to make the attempt, anyhow. It's +nearly two miles to St. Goram; but perhaps I shall be able to manage +it." + +A moment or two later he had gathered her up in his strong arms, and, +with her bandaged head resting on his shoulder, and her heart beating +feebly against his own, he marched away back over the broken gate in the +direction of St. Goram. Jess gave a feeble whinny, then followed slowly +and dejectedly, with her nose to the ground. + +Half a mile away the ground dipped into a narrow valley, with a clear +stream of water meandering at the bottom. + +Ralph laid down his burden very gently and tenderly close to the stream, +with her head pillowed on a bank of moss. He was at his wits' end, but +he thought it possible that some ice-cold water sprinkled on her face +might revive her. + +Jess stood stock-still a few yards away and watched the operation. Ralph +sprinkled the cold water first on her face, then he got a large leaf, +and made a cup of it, and tried to get her to drink; but the water +trickled down her neck and into her bosom. + +She gave a sigh at length and opened her eyes suddenly. Then she tried +to raise her head, but it fell back again in a moment. + +Ralph filled the leaf again and raised her head. + +"Try to drink this," he said. "I'm sure it will do you good." And she +opened her lips and drank. + +He filled the leaf a third time, and she followed him with her eyes, but +did not attempt to speak. + +"Now, don't you feel better?" he questioned, after she had swallowed the +second draught. + +"I don't know," she answered, in a whisper. "But who are you? And where +am I?" + +"You have had an accident," he said. "Your horse threw you. Don't you +remember?" + +She closed her eyes and knitted her brows as if trying to recall what +had happened. + +"It was close to Treliskey Plantation," he went on, "and the gate was +shut. You told me to open it, and I refused. I was a brute, and I shall +never forgive myself so long as I live." + +"Oh yes; I remember," she said, opening her eyes slowly, and the +faintest suggestion of a smile played round her ashen lips. "You took +offence because----" + +"I was a brute!" he interjected. + +"I ought not to have spoken as I did," she said, in a whisper. "I had no +right to command you. Do--do you think I shall die?" + +"No, no!" he cried, aghast. "What makes you ask such a question?" + +"I feel so strange," she answered, in the same faint whisper, "and I +have no strength even to raise my head." + +"But you will get better!" he said eagerly. "You must get better--you +must! For my sake, you must!" + +"Why for your sake?" she whispered. + +"Because if you die I shall feel like a murderer all the rest of my +life. Oh, believe me, I did not mean to be rude and unkind! I would die +for you this very moment if I could make you better! Oh, believe me!" +And the tears came up and filled his eyes. + +She looked at him wonderingly. His words were so passionate, and rang +with such a deep note of conviction, that she could not doubt his +sincerity. + +"It was all my fault," she whispered, after a long pause; then the light +faded from her eyes again. Ralph rushed to the stream and fetched more +water, but she was quite unconscious when he returned. + +For a moment or two he looked at her, wondering whether her ashen lips +meant the approach of death; then he gathered her up in his arms again +and marched forward in the direction of St. Goram. + +The road seemed interminable, while his burden hung a dead weight in his +arms, and grew heavier every step he took. He was almost ready to drop, +when a feeble sigh sounded close to his ear, followed by a very +perceptible shudder. + +He was afraid to look at her. He had heard that people shuddered when +they died. A moment or two later he was reassured. A soft voice +whispered-- + +"Are you taking me home?" + +"I am taking you to St. Goram," he answered "I don't know where your +home is." + +She raised herself suddenly and locked her arms about his neck, and at +the touch of her hands the blood leaped in his veins and his face became +crimson. He no longer felt his burden heavy, no longer thought the way +long. A new chord had been struck somewhere, which sang through every +fibre of his being. A new experience had come to him, unlike anything he +had ever before felt or imagined. + +He raised her a little higher in his arms, and pressed her still closer +to his heart. He was trembling from head to foot; his head swam with a +strange intoxication, his heart throbbed at twice its normal rate. He +had suddenly got into a world of enchantment. Life expanded with a new +meaning and significance. + +It did not matter for the moment who this fair creature was or where she +lived. He had got possession of her; her arms were about his neck, her +head rested on his shoulder, her face was close to his, her breath +fanned his cheek, he could feel the beating of her heart against his +own. + +He marched over the brow of the hill and down the other side in a kind +of ecstasy. + +He waited for her to speak again, but for some reason she kept silent. +He felt her fingers clutch the back of his neck, and every now and then +a feeble sigh escaped her lips. + +"Are you in pain?" he asked at length. + +"I think I can bear it," she answered feebly. + +"I wish I could carry you more gently," he said, "but the ground is very +rough." + +"Oh, but you are splendid!" she replied. "I wish I had not been rude to +you." + +He gave a big gulp, as though a lump had risen in his throat. + +"Don't say that again, please," he said at length. "I feel bad enough to +drown myself." + +She did not reply again, and for a long distance he walked on in +silence. He was almost ready to drop, and yet he was scarcely conscious +of fatigue. It seemed to him as though the strength of ten men had been +given to him. + +"We shall be in the high road in a few minutes now," he said at length; +but she did not reply. Her hands seemed to be relaxing their hold about +his neck again; her weight had suddenly increased. + +He staggered hurriedly forward to the junction of the roads, and then +sat down suddenly on a bank, still holding his precious charge in his +arms. He shifted her head a little, so that he could look at her face. +She did not attempt to speak, though he saw she was quite conscious. + +"There's some kind of vehicle coming along the road," he said at length, +lifting his head suddenly. + +She did not reply, but her eyes seemed to search his face as though +something perplexed her. + +"Are you easier resting?" he questioned. + +She closed her eyes slowly by way of reply; she was too spent to speak. + +"You have not yet told me who you are," he said at length. All thought +of rank and station had passed out of his mind. They were on an equality +while he sat there folding her in his arms. + +She opened her eyes again, and her lips moved, but no sound escaped +them. + +In the distance the rattle of wheels sounded more and more distinct. + +"Help is coming," he whispered. "I'm sure it is." + +Her eyes seemed to smile into his, but no other answer was given. + +He looked eagerly toward the bend of the road, and after a few minutes a +horse and carriage appeared in sight. + +"It's Dr. Barrow's carriage," he said half aloud. "Oh, this is +fortunate!" + +He raised a shout as the carriage drew near. The coachman saw that +something had happened, and pulled up suddenly. The doctor pushed his +head out of the window, then turned the door-handle and stepped out on +to the roadside. + +"Hello, Ralph Penlogan!" he said, rushing forward, "what is the meaning +of this?" + +"She got thrown from her horse up against Treliskey Plantation," he +answered. "Do you know who she is?" + +"Of course I know who she is!" was the quick reply. "Don't you know?" + +"No. I never saw her before. Do you think she will recover?" + +"Has she been unconscious all the time?" the doctor asked, placing his +fingers on her wrist. + +"No; she's come to once or twice. I thought at first she was dead. +There's a big cut on her head, which has bled a good deal." + +"She must be got home instantly," was the reply. "Help me to get her +into the carriage at once!" + +It was an easy task for the two men. Dorothy had relapsed into complete +unconsciousness again. Very carefully they propped her up in a corner of +the brougham, while the doctor took his place by her side. + +Ralph would have liked to ride with them. He rather resented Dr. Barrow +taking his place. He had a notion that nobody could support the +unconscious girl so tenderly as himself. + +There was no help for it, however. He had to get out of the carriage and +leave the two together. + +"Tell William," said the doctor, "to drive round to the surgery before +going on to Hamblyn Manor." + +"To Hamblyn Manor?" Ralph questioned, with a look of perplexity in his +eyes as he stood at the carriage door. + +"Why, where else should I take her?" + +"Is she from up the country?" + +"From up the country--no. Do you mean to say you've lived here all your +life and don't know Miss Hamblyn?" + +"But she is only a girl," Ralph said, looking at the white face that was +leaning against the doctor's shoulder. + +"Well?" + +"Miss Hamblyn is going to be married!" + +The doctor's face clouded in a moment. + +"I fear this will mean the postponement of the marriage," he said. + +Ralph groaned inwardly and turned away. + +"The doctor says you must drive round to the surgery before going on to +Hamblyn Manor," he said, speaking to the coachman, and then he stood +back and watched the carriage move away. + +It seemed to him like a funeral, with Jess as the mourner, limping +slowly behind. The doctor hoped to avoid attracting attention in St. +Goram. He did not know that Jess was following the carriage all the way. + +It was the sight of the riderless horse that attracted people's +attention. Then, when the carriage pulled up at the doctor's door, +someone bolder than the rest looked in at the window and caught a +glimpse of the unconscious figure. + +The doctor's anger availed him nothing. Other people came and looked, +and the news spread through St. Goram like wildfire, and in the end an +enterprising lad took to his heels and ran all the distance to Hamblyn +Manor that he might take to Sir John the evil tidings. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A BITTER INTERVIEW + + +Dr. Barrow remained at the Manor House most of the night. It was clear +from his manner, as well as from the words he let fall, that he regarded +Dorothy's case as serious. Sir John refused to go to bed. + +"I shall not sleep in any case," he said. "And I prefer to remain +downstairs, so that I can hear the latest news." + +Lord Probus remained with him till after midnight, though very few words +passed between them. Now and then they looked at each other in a dumb, +despairing fashion, but neither had the courage to talk about what was +uppermost in their thoughts. + +Just as the daylight was struggling into the room, the doctor came in +silently, and dropped with a little sigh into an easy-chair. + +"Well?" Sir John questioned, looking at him with stony eyes. + +"She is a little easier for the moment," was the quiet, unemotional +answer. + +"You think she will pull through?" + +"I hope so, but I shall be able to speak with more confidence later." + +"The wound in her head is a bad one?" + +The doctor smiled. "If that were all, we would soon have her on her feet +again." + +"But what other injuries has she sustained?" + +"It is impossible to say just at present. She evidently fell under the +horse. The wonder is she's alive at all." + +"I suppose nobody knows how it happened?" Sir John questioned after a +pause. + +"Well, I believe nobody saw the accident, though young Ralph Penlogan +was near the spot at the time--and a fortunate thing too, or she might +have remained where she fell till midnight." + +"You have seen the young man?" + +"He had carried her in his arms from Treliskey Plantation to the +junction of the high road." + +"Without assistance?" + +"Without assistance. What else could he do? There was not a soul near +the spot. Since you closed the road through the plantation, it is never +used now, except by the few people to whom you have granted the right of +way." + +"So young Penlogan was in the plantation, was he?" + +"I really don't know. He may have been on the common." + +Sir John frowned. "Do you know," he said, after a pause, "that I dislike +that young man exceedingly." + +"Indeed?" + +"He is altogether above his station. I believe he is clever, mind you, +and all that, but what does a working-man's son want to bother himself +with mechanics and chemistry for?" + +"Why not?" the doctor asked, with slightly raised eyebrows. + +"Why? Because this higher education, as it is called, is bringing the +country to the dogs. Get an educated proletariat, and the reign of the +nobility and gentry is at an end. You see the thin end of the wedge +already. Your Board-school boys and girls are all cursed with notions; +they are too big for their jackets, too high for their station; they +have no respect for squire or parson, and they are too high and mighty +to do honest work." + +"I cannot say that has been my experience," the doctor said quietly; and +he rose from his chair and began to pull on his gloves. + +"You are not going?" Sir John questioned anxiously. + +"For an hour or two. I should like, with your permission, to telegraph +to Dr. Roscommon. You know he is regarded now as the most famous surgeon +in the county." + +"But surely, doctor----" Sir John began, with a look of consternation in +his eyes. + +"I should like to have his opinion," the doctor said quietly. + +"Of course--of course! Get the best advice you can. No expense must be +spared. My child must be saved at all costs." + +"Rest assured we shall do our best," the doctor answered, and quietly +left the room. + +For the best part of another hour Sir John paced restlessly up and down +the room, then he dropped into an easy-chair and fell fast asleep. + +He was aroused at length by a timid knock at the door. + +"Come in!" he answered sleepily, fancying for a moment that he was in +bed, and that his servant had brought him his shaving-water. + +The next moment he was on his feet, with an agitated look in his eyes. + +A servant entered, followed by Ralph Penlogan, who looked as if he had +not slept for the night. + +Instead of waiting to know if Sir John would see him, Ralph had stalked +into the room on the servant's heels. He was too anxious to stand on +ceremony, too eager to unburden his mind. He had never had a moment's +peace since his meeting with Dorothy Hamblyn the previous afternoon. He +felt like a criminal, and would have given all he possessed if he could +have lived over the previous afternoon again. + +Sir John recognised him in a moment, and drew himself up stiffly. He +never felt altogether at ease in the presence of the Penlogans. He knew +that he had "done" the father, driven a most unfair bargain with him, +and it is said a man never forgives a fellow-creature he has wronged. + +"I have come to speak to you about the accident to your daughter," Ralph +said, plunging at once into the subject that filled his mind. + +"Yes, yes; I am glad you have called," Sir John said, walking to the +mantelpiece and leaning his elbow on it. + +"I hope she is better?" Ralph went on. "You think she will recover?" + +"I am sorry to say she is very seriously injured," Sir John answered +slowly; "but, naturally, we hope for the best." + +Ralph dropped his eyes to the floor, and for a moment was silent. + +"Dr. Barrow tells me that you were near the spot at the time of the +accident," Sir John went on; "for that reason I am glad you have +called." + +"There isn't much to tell," Ralph answered, without raising his eyes, +"but I am anxious to tell what there is." + +"Ah!" Sir John gasped, glancing across at his visitor suspiciously. + +"After what has happened, you can't blame me more than I blame myself," +Ralph went on; "though, of course, I never imagined for a moment that +she would attempt to leap the gate." + +"I don't quite understand," Sir John said stiffly. + +"Well, it was this way. I was leaning on the stile leading down into +Dingley Bottom, when someone rode up and ordered me to open the gate +leading into Treliskey Plantation. If the lady had asked me to open the +gate I should have done it in a minute." + +"So you refused to do a neighbourly act, did you?" + +"I told her I was not her servant, at which she got very indignant, and +ordered me to do as I was told." + +"And you refused a second time?" + +"I did. In fact, I felt very bitter. People in our class suffer so many +indignities from the rich that we are apt to be soured." + +"Soured, indeed! Your accursed Board-school pride not only makes cads of +you, but criminals!" And Sir John's eyes blazed with passion. + +"I am not going to defend myself any further," Ralph said, raising his +eyes and looking him full in the face. "I am sorry now that I did not +open the gate--awfully sorry. I would give anything if I could live over +yesterday afternoon again!" + +"I should think so, indeed!" Sir John said, in his most biting tones. +"And understand this, young man, if my daughter dies I shall hold you +responsible for her death!" + +Ralph's face grew very white, but he did not reply. + +Sir John, however, was in no mood to be silent. He had a good many +things bottled up in his mind, and Ralph's visit gave him an excuse for +pulling the cork out. + +"I want to say this also to you," he said, "now that you have given me +an opportunity of opening my mind--that I consider young men of your +stamp a danger and a menace to the neighbourhood!" + +Ralph looked at him without flinching, but he did not speak. + +"There was a time," Sir John went on, "when people knew how to respect +their betters, when the working classes kept their place and did not +presume, and when such as you would never have ventured into this house +by the front door!" + +"I came by the nearest way," Ralph answered, "and did not trouble to +inquire which door it was." + +"Your father no doubt thinks he has been doing a wise thing in keeping +himself on short commons to give you what he foolishly imagines is an +education." + +"Excuse me, but we are all kept on short commons because you took +advantage of my father's ignorance. If he had had a little better +education he would not have allowed himself to be duped by you!" And he +turned and made for the door. + +But Sir John intercepted him, with flashing eyes and passion-lined face. + +"Have you come here to insult me?" he thundered. "By Heaven, I've a good +mind to call my servants in and give you a good horsewhipping!" + +Ralph stood still and scowled angrily. + +"I neither came here to insult you nor to be insulted by you! I came +here to express my regret that I did not pocket my pride and open the +gate for your daughter. I have made the best amends in my power, and +now, if you will let me, I will go home." + +"I am not sure that I will let you!" Sir John said angrily. "It seems to +me the proper thing would be to send for the police and get you locked +up. How do I know that you did not put something in the way to prevent +my daughter's horse clearing the gate? I know that you hate your +betters--like most of your class, alas! in these times----" + +"We should not hate you if you dealt justly by us!" Ralph retorted. + +"Dealt justly, indeed!" Sir John sneered. "It makes me ill to hear such +as you talking about justice! You ought to be thankful that you are +allowed to live in the parish at all!" + +"We are. We are grateful for the smallest mercies--grateful for room to +walk about." + +"That's more than some of you deserve," Sir John retorted angrily. "Now +go home and help your father on the farm. And, by Jove, tell him if he's +behind with his ground rent this year I'll make him sit up." + +Ralph's eyes blazed in a moment. That ground rent was to him the sum of +all iniquity. It represented to him the climax of greed and injustice. +The bitterness of it had eaten out all the joy of his father's life and +robbed his mother of all the fruits of her thrift and economy. + +Ralph's face was toward the door; but he turned in a moment, white with +passion. + +"I wonder you are not ashamed to speak of that ground rent," he said +slowly, and with biting emphasis. "You, who took advantage of my +father's love for his native place, and of his ignorance of legal +phraseology--you, who robbed a poor man of his savings, and cheated his +children out of their due. Ground rent, indeed! I wonder the word does +not stick in your throat and choke you." And before Sir John could reply +he had pulled open the door and passed out into the hall. + +He walked home by the forbidden path through the plantation, feeling +more reckless and defiant than he had ever felt before. He was in the +mood to run his head against any brick wall that might stand in his way; +he almost hoped that a keeper would cross his path and arrest him. He +wanted to have another tilt with Sir John, and show him how lightly he +regarded his authority. + +No keeper, however, showed his face. He was left in undisturbed +possession of field and fell. He whistled loudly and defiantly, as he +strutted through the dim aisles of the plantation, and tried to persuade +himself that he was not a bit sorry that Sir John at that moment was +suffering all the tortures of suspense. He would have persuaded himself, +if he could, that he did not care whether Dorothy Hamblyn lived or died; +but that was altogether beyond his powers. He did care. Every fibre of +his being seemed to plead for her recovery. + +He came at length upon the scene of the previous day's accident. To all +appearances no one had visited it. The broken gate had not been touched. +On the ground was a dark stain which had been crimson the day before, +but no one would notice it unless it were pointed out; for the rest, +Nature showed no regard for human pain or grief. + +It was a glorious morning in late summer. The woods were at their best; +the fields were yellowing in all directions to the harvest. High in the +blue heavens the larks were trilling their morning song, while in the +banks and hedges the grasshoppers were whirring and chattering with all +their might. It was a morning to inspire the heart with confidence and +hope, to cleanse the eyes from the dust of doubt, and to uplift the +spirit from the fogs of pessimism and despair. + +And yet Ralph Penlogan heard no song that morning, nor even saw the +sunshine. A dull weight was pressing on his heart which he had no power +to lift. Anger and regret struggled within him for the mastery, while +constantly a new emotion--which he did not understand as yet--ran +through his veins like liquid fire. + +When he reached the stile he rested for a few moments, and recalled the +scene of the previous day. It was not difficult. The face of the fair +horsewoman he would never forget; the soft, imperious voice rang through +his brain like the sound of evening bells. Her smile was like sunshine +on waving corn. + +Then in his fancy he saw Jess dart forward, and then came the sickening +sound of splintering wood. What happened after that he knew all too +well. + +It would be a cruel thing for death to blot out a smile so sweet, and +the grave to hide a face so fair. While there were so many things in the +world that were neither lovely nor useful nor inspiring, it would seem +like a sin against Nature to blot out and destroy so sweet a presence. +Let the weeds be plucked up, let the thorns be burned; but the flowers +should be allowed to remain to brighten the world and gladden the hearts +of men. + +He sprang over the stile at length, and strode away in the direction of +Dingley Bottom with a scowl upon his face. + +What right had he to be thinking about the squire's daughter? Did he not +despise the class to which she belonged? Did he not hate her father +because, having a giant's strength, he used it like a giant? Had not the +justice of the strong become a byword and a loathing? Had he not sworn +eternal enmity to the oppressor and all who shared his gains? + +On the brow of the next low hill he paused again. Before him, in a +little hollow, lay the homestead his father had built; and spread out on +three sides were the fields he had reclaimed from the wilderness. + +It had been a hard and almost heartbreaking task, for when he commenced +the enterprise he had but a faint idea what it would cost. It seemed +easy enough to root up the furze bushes and plough down the heather, and +the soil looked so loamy and rich that he imagined a heavy crop would be +yielded the first year. + +And yet it was not to make money that David Penlogan had leased a +portion of Polskiddy Downs, and built a house thereon. It was rather +that he might have a quiet resting-place in the evening of his life, and +be able to spend his days in the open air--in the wind and sunshine--and +be set free from the perils that beset an underground captain in a +Cornish mine. + +With what high hopes he embarked upon the enterprise none but David +knew. It was his one big investment. All the savings of a lifetime went +into it. He took his hoarded sovereigns out of the bank without +misgiving, and felt as happy as a king, while he toiled like a slave. + +His neighbours stared and shook their heads when it leaked out on what +terms he had taken the lease. + +"Sir John has been too many for you, David," an old farmer said to him +one day. "You might as well empty your purse in his pocket right off. +You'll not have money enough to buy a coffin with when he's finished +with you." + +But David knew better, or fancied he did, which is much the same thing. + +He hired horses and ploughs and stubbers and hedgers and ditchers, and +masons and carpenters, and for a year that corner of Polskiddy Downs was +alive with people. + +The house was built from plans David prepared himself. Barn and cowsheds +were erected at a convenient distance. Hedges were carried in straight +lines across the newly cultivated fields. A small orchard was planted +beyond the kitchen garden, and everything, to David's hopeful eyes, +looked promising for the future. + +That was twelve years ago, and in those years David had grown to be an +old man. He had spent his days in the open air, it is true--in the wind +and sunshine, and in the rain and snow--and he had contracted rheumatism +and bronchitis, and all the heart had gone out of him in the hopeless +struggle. + +As Ralph looked out over the not too fruitful fields which his father +had reclaimed from the waste with such infinite toil, and at the +sacrifice of all his savings, he forgot the fair face of Dorothy +Hamblyn, which had been haunting him all the way back, and remembered +only the iron hand of her father. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CHANCES OF LIFE + + +Ralph had started so early that morning that he had had no time to get +breakfast. Now he began to feel the pangs of hunger most acutely. + +"I expect mother will have kept something for me," he said to himself, +as he descended the slope. "I hope she is not worrying about what has +become of me." + +He looked right and left for his father, expecting to find him at work +in the fields, but David was nowhere in evidence. + +Ralph made a bee-line across the fields, and was soon in the shelter of +the little homestead. He found his father and mother and his sister Ruth +still seated at the breakfast-table. Ruth pushed back her chair at the +sound of his footsteps and rose to her feet. + +"Why, Ralph," she said, "where have you been? Mother's been quite +worried about you." + +"If that's all she has to worry her, she needn't worry much," he said, +with a laugh. "But has anything happened? You all look desperately +sober." + +"We've heard some news that has made us all feel very anxious," David +answered wearily. "We've sat here talking about it for the last +half-hour." + +"Then the news concerns us all?" Ralph questioned, with a catch in his +voice. + +"Very closely, my boy--very closely. The truth is, Julian Seccombe has +got wounded out in Egypt." + +"And he's the last life on the farm?" Ralph questioned, with a gasp. + +"That is so, my boy. It seems strange that I should be so unfortunate in +the choice of lives, and yet I could not have been more careful. Who +could have thought that the parson's boy would become a soldier?" + +"Life is always uncertain," Ralph answered, with a troubled look in his +eyes, "whether a man is a soldier or a farmer." + +"That is so," David answered reflectively. "Yet my father held his +little place on only two lives, and one of them lived to be +seventy-five." + +"But, even then, I've heard you say the lease ran only a little over +sixty years. It's a wicked gamble, is this leasehold system, with the +chances in favour of the landlord." + +"Why a gamble in favour of the landlord, my boy?" David questioned, +lifting his mild eyes to his son's face. + +"Why, because if all the 'lives' live out their threescore years and +ten, the lease is still a short one; for you don't start with the first +year of anyone's life." + +"That is true," David answered sadly. "The parson's boy was ten, which I +thought would be balanced by the other two." + +"And the other two did not live ten years between them." + +"Of course, nobody could foresee that," David answered sadly. "They were +both healthy children. Our little Billy was three, and the healthiest +baby of the lot." + +"But with all the ailments of children in front of him?" + +"Well, no. He had had whooping-cough, and got through it easily. It was +the scarlet fever that carried him off. Poor little chap, he was gone in +no time." + +"And so, within a year, and after you had spent the greater part of your +money, your farm hung upon two lives," Ralph said bitterly. + +"But, humanly speaking, they were good lives. Not lives that would be +exposed to much risk. Lawyer Doubleday told me that he intended to bring +up his boy to the same profession, and Parson Seccombe told me he had +dedicated Julian to the Church in his infancy. What better lives, +humanly speaking, could you get? Neither parsons nor lawyers run any +risks to speak of." + +"Yes; that's true enough. The system being what it is, you did the best +you could, no doubt." + +"Nobody could foresee," David said sadly, "that Doubleday's boy would go +and get drowned. I nearly fainted when I heard the news." + +"And now you say that young Seccombe has got shot out in Egypt." + +"I don't know as to his being shot; but Tom Dyer, who was here this +morning, said that he had just seen the parson, who was in great +trouble, news having reached him last evening that Julian was wounded." + +"Then if the parson's in great trouble, the chances are he's badly +wounded." + +"I don't know. I thought of walking across to St. Goram directly, and +seeing the parson for myself; but I'm almost afraid to do so, lest the +worst should be true." + +"We shall have to face it, whatever it is," Ralph said doggedly. + +"But think of what it would mean to us if the parson's son should die! +Poor mother is that troubled that she has not been able to eat a +mouthful of breakfast!" + +"She seems scarcely able to talk about it," Ralph said, glancing at the +door through which his mother and Ruth had disappeared. + +"She's a little bit disposed to look on the dark side of things +generally," David said slowly. "For myself, I keep hoping for the best. +It doesn't seem possible that God can strip us of everything at a blow." + +"It doesn't seem to me as though God had any hand in the business," +Ralph answered doggedly. + +"Hush, Ralph, my boy! The issues of life and death are in His hands." + +"And you believe also that He is the author of the leasehold system that +obtains in this country?" + +"I did not say that, Ralph; but He permits it." + +"Just as He permits lying and theft, and murder and war, and all the +other evil things there are in the world. But that is nothing to the +point. You can't make me believe that the Almighty ever meant a few +people to parcel out the world among themselves, and cheat all the rest +out of their rights." + +"The world is what it is, my boy, and neither you nor I can alter it." + +"And you think it is our duty to submit quietly and uncomplainingly to +whatever wrong or injustice is heaped upon us?" + +"We must submit to the law, my boy, however hardly it presses upon us." + +"But we ought to try, all the same, to get bad laws mended." + +"You can't ladle the sea dry with a limpet-shell, Ralph, nor carry off a +mountain in your pocket. No, no; let us not talk about the impossible, +nor give up hope until we are forced to. Perhaps young Seccombe will +recover." + +"But if he should die, father. What would happen then?" + +"I don't know, my boy, and I can't bear to think." + +"But we'd better face the possibility," Ralph answered doggedly, "so +that, if the worst should come to the worst, we may know just where we +are." + +"'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,'" David answered, with a +far-away look in his eyes. And he got up from his seat and walked slowly +out of the house. + +Ralph sat looking out of the window for several minutes, and then he +went off in search of his mother and Ruth. + +"Do you know, mother," he said, as cheerily as he could, "that I have +had no breakfast yet? And, in spite of the bad news, I am too hungry for +words." + +"Had no breakfast?" she said, lifting up her hands in surprise. "I made +sure you got something to eat before you went out." + +"Well, then, you were wrong for once," he said, laughing. "Now, please +put me out of my misery as quickly as possible." + +"Ah, Ralph," she answered, with a sigh, "if we had no worse misery than +hunger, how happy we should be!" + +"That is so, mother," he said, with a laugh. "Hunger is not at all bad +when you have plenty to eat." + +She sighed again. + +"It is well that you young people don't see far ahead of you," she said +plaintively. "But come here and get your breakfast." + +Two hours later, when in the home close hoeing turnips, he lifted his +head and saw his father coming across the fields from the direction of +St. Goram, he straightened his back at once and waited. He knew that he +had been to see the parson to get the latest and fullest news. David +came slowly on with his eyes upon the ground, as if buried in profound +thought. + +"Well, father, what news?" Ralph questioned, when his father came within +speaking distance. + +David started as though wakened out of a reverie, and came to a full +stop. Then a pathetic smile stole over his gentle face, and he came +forward with a quickened step. + +"I waited for the parson to get a reply from the War Office, or I should +have been home sooner," he said, bringing out the words slowly and +painfully. + +"Well?" Ralph questioned, though he felt sure, from his father's manner, +what the answer would be. + +"The parson fears the worst," David answered, bringing out the words in +jerks. "Poor man! He's in great trouble. I almost forgot my own when I +thought of his." + +"But what was the news he got from the War Office?" Ralph questioned. + +"Not much. He's on the list of the dangerously wounded, that's all." + +"But he may recover," Ralph said, after a pause. + +"Yes, he may," David answered, with a sigh. "God alone knows, but the +parson gave me no comfort at all." + +"How so?" + +"He says that the swords and spears of the dervishes are often poisoned; +then, you see, water is scarce, and the heat is terrible, so that a sick +man has no chance like he has here." + +Ralph did not reply. For a moment or two he looked at his father, then +went on with his hoeing. David walked by his side between the rows of +turnips. His face was drawn and pale, and his lips twitched incessantly. + +"The world seems terribly topsy-turvy," he said at length, as if +speaking to himself. "I oughtn't to be idling here, but all the heart's +gone out of me somehow." + +"We must hope for the best," Ralph said, without raising his head. + +"The parson's boy is the last 'life,'" David went on, as though he had +not heard what Ralph had said. "The last life. Just a thread, a feeble +little thread. One little touch, and then----" + +"Well, and what then?" Ralph questioned. + +"If the boy dies, this little farm is no longer ours. Though I have +reclaimed it from the waste, and spent on it all my savings, and toiled +from dawn to dark for twelve long years, and built the house and the +barn and the cowsheds, and gone into debt to stock it; if that boy dies +it all goes." + +"You mean that the squire will take possession?" + +"I mean that Sir John will claim it as his." + +Ralph did not speak again for several moments, but he felt his blood +tingling to his finger-tips. + +"It's a wicked, burning shame," he jerked out at length. + +"It is the law, my boy," David said sadly, "and you see there's no going +against the law." + +Ralph hung his head, and began hoeing vigorously his row. + +"Besides," David went on, "you see I was party to the arrangement--that +is, I accepted the conditions; but the luck has been on Sir John's +side." + +"He took a mean advantage of you, father, and you know it, and he knows +it," Ralph snapped. + +"He knew that I had set my heart on a bit of land that I could call my +own; that I wanted a sort of resting-place in my old age, and that I +desired to end my days in the parish in which I was born." + +"And so he put the screw on. It's always been a wonder to me, since I +could think about it at all, that you accepted the conditions. I would +have seen Sir John at the bottom of the sea first." + +"I did try to get better terms," David answered, looking wistfully +across the fields, "and I mentioned ninety-nine years as the term of the +lease, and he nearly turned me out of his office. 'Three lives or +nothing,' he snarled, 'and be quick about it.' So I had to make up my +mind there and then." + +"You'd have been better off, father, if you'd dropped all your money +down a mine shaft, and gone to work on a farm as a day labourer," Ralph +said bitterly. + +"I shouldn't have had to work so hard," David assented. + +"And you would have got more money, and wouldn't have had a hundredth +part of the anxiety." + +"You see, I thought the land was richer than it has turned out to be, +and the furze roots have kept sprouting year after year, and that has +meant ploughing the fields afresh. And the amount of manure I have had +to put in has handicapped me terribly. But I have kept hoping to get +into smooth waters by and by. The farm is looking better now than ever +it did before." + +"But the ground rent, father, is an outrage. Did you really understand +how much you were paying?" + +"He wouldn't consent to any less," David said wistfully. "You see things +were good with farmers at the time, and rents were going up. And then I +thought I should be allowed to work the quarry down in the delf, and +make some money out of the stone." + +"And you were done in that as in other things?" + +"Well, yes. There's no denying it. When I got to understand the +deed--and it took me a goodish time to riddle it out--I found out that I +had no right to the stone or the mineral, or the fish in the stream, or +to the trees, or to the game. Do you know he actually charged me for the +stone dug out of my own farm to build the house with?" + +"And ever since has been working the quarry at a big profit, which would +never have been unearthed but for you, and destroying one of your fields +in the process?" + +"I felt that about the quarry almost more than anything," David went on. +"But he's never discovered the tin lode, and I shall never tell him." + +"Is there a tin lode on the farm?" Ralph questioned eagerly. + +"Ay, a beauty! It must be seven years ago since I discovered it, and +I've kept it to myself. You see, it would ruin the farm to work it, and +I should not get a penny of the dues; they'd all go to the squire." + +"Everything gets back to the rich in the long-run," Ralph said bitterly. +"There's no chance for the poor man anywhere." + +"Oh, well, in a few years' time it won't matter to any of us," David +said, looking with dreamy eyes across the valley to the distant range of +hills. "In the grave we shall all be equal, and we shall never hear +again the voice of the oppressor." + +"That does not seem to me anything to the point," Ralph said, flashing +out the words angrily. "We've got as good a right to live as anybody +else. I don't ask favours from anybody, but I do want justice and fair +play." + +"It's difficult to know what justice is in this world," David said +moodily. "But there, I've been idling long enough. It's time I went back +and fetched my hoe and did a bit of work." And he turned slowly on his +heel and walked away toward the house. + +Ralph straightened his back and looked after him, and as he did so the +moisture came into his eyes. + +"Poor old father!" he said to himself, with a sigh. "He's feeling this +much more deeply than anyone knows. I do hope for all our sakes that +Julian Seccombe will recover." + +For the rest of the day Ralph's thoughts hovered between the possible +loss of their farm and the chances of Dorothy Hamblyn's recovery. He +hardly knew why he should worry himself about the squire's daughter so +much. Was it solely on the ground that he had refused to open the gate, +or was it because she was so pretty? + +He felt almost vexed with himself when this thought suggested itself to +his mind. What did it matter to him whether she was fair or plain? She +was Sir John Hamblyn's daughter, and that ought to be sufficient for +him. If there was any man on earth he hated and despised it was John +Hamblyn; hence to concern himself about the fate of his daughter because +she was good to look upon seemed the most ridiculous folly. + +It must surely be the other consideration that worried him. If he had +opened the gate the accident would not have happened; but neither would +it if she had ridden home the other way. She was paying the penalty of +her own wilfulness and her own imperiousness. He was not called on to be +the hack of anybody. + +But from whatever cause his anxiety might spring, it was there, +deep-rooted and persistent. + +He was glad when night came, so that he might forget himself, forget the +world, and forget everybody in it in the sweet oblivion of sleep. + +He hoped that the new day would bring better news, but in that he was +disappointed. The earlier part of the day brought no news at all, and +neither he nor his father went to seek it. But as the afternoon began to +wane, a horse-dealer from St. Goram left word that the parson's son was +dead, and that the squire's daughter was not likely to get better. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WAITING FOR THE BLOW TO FALL + + +David Penlogan was not the man to cry out when he was hurt. He went +about his work in dumb resignation. The calamity was too great to be +talked about, too overwhelming to be shaped into words. He could only +shut his teeth and endure. To discuss the matter, even with his wife, +would be like probing a wound with a red-hot needle. Better let it be. +There are times when words are like a blister on a burn. + +What the future had in store for him he did not know, and he had not the +courage to inquire. One text of Scripture he repeated to himself +morning, noon, and night, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," +and to that he held. It was his one anchor. The rope was frayed, and the +anchor out of sight--whether hooked to a rock or simply embedded in the +sand he did not know--but it steadied him while the storm was at its +worst. It helped him to endure. + +Harvest was beginning, and the crop had to be gathered in--gathered in +from fields that were no longer his, and that possibly he would never +plant again. It was all very pathetic. He seemed sometimes like a man +preparing for his own funeral. + +"When next year comes----" he would say to himself, and then he would +stop short. He had not courage enough yet to think of next year; his +business was with the present. His first, and, as far as he could see, +his only duty was to gather in the crops. Sir John had not spoken to him +yet. He was too concerned about his daughter to think of so small a +matter as the falling-in of a lease. Strange that what was a mere trifle +to one man should be a matter of life and death to another. + +It was a sad and silent harvest-tide for the occupants of Hillside Farm. +The impending calamity, instead of drawing them more closely together, +seemed to separate them. Each was afraid of betraying emotion before the +rest. So they avoided each other. Even at meal-times they all pretended +to be so busy that there was no time to talk. The weather was +magnificent, and all the cornfields were growing ripe together. This was +true of nearly every other farm in the parish. Hence hired labour could +not be had for love or money. The big farmers had picked up all the +casual harvesters beforehand. The small farmers would have to employ +their womenfolk and children. + +Ralph and his father got up each morning at sunrise, and, armed with +reaping-hooks, went their ways in different directions. Ralph undertook +to cut down the barley-field, David negotiated a large field of oats. +They could not talk while they were in different fields. Moreover, +neither was in the mood for company. Later on they might be able to talk +calmly and without emotion, but at present it would be foolish to make +the attempt. + +Every day they expected that Sir John Hamblyn or his steward would put +in an appearance; that would bring things to a head, and put an end to +the little conspiracy of silence that had now lasted nearly a week. But +day after day passed away, and the solemn gloom of the farm remained +unbroken. + +Ralph kept doggedly to his work. Work was the best antidote against +painful thoughts. Since the morning he walked across to Hamblyn Manor, +in order to ease his conscience by making a clean breast of it, he had +never ventured beyond his own homestead. He tried to persuade himself it +was no concern of his what happened, and that if Dorothy Hamblyn died it +would be a just judgment on Sir John for his grasping and oppressive +ways. + +But his heart always revolted against such reasoning. Deep down in his +soul he knew that, for the moment, he was more concerned about the fate +of Dorothy than anything else, and that it would be an infinite relief +to him to hear that she was out of danger. Try as he would, he could not +shake off the feeling that he was more or less responsible for the +accident. + +But day by day the news found its way across to the farm that "the +squire's little maid," as the villagers called her, was no better. +Sometimes, indeed, the news was that she was a good deal worse, and that +the doctors held out very little hope of her recovery. + +Ralph remained as silent on this as on the other subject. He had never +told anyone but Sir John that he had refused to open the gate. It had +seemed to him, while he sat on the stile and faced the squire's +daughter, a brave and courageous part to take, but he was ashamed of it +now. It would have been a far more heroic thing to have pocketed the +affront and overcome arrogance by generosity. + +But vision often comes too late. We see the better part when we are no +longer able to take it. + +Sunday brought the family together, and broke the crust of silence that +had prevailed so long. + +It was David's usual custom on a Sunday morning to walk across the +fields to his class-meeting, held in the little Methodist Chapel at +Veryan. But this particular Sunday morning he had not the courage to go. +If he could not open his heart before the members of his own family, how +could he before others? Besides, his experience would benefit no one. He +had no tale to tell of faith triumphing over despondency, and hope +banishing despair. He had come nearer being an infidel than ever before +in his life. It is not every man who can see that Providence may be as +clearly manifested in calamity as in prosperity. + +So instead of going to his meeting, David went out for a quiet walk in +the fields. He could talk to himself, if he had not the courage to talk +to others. Besides, Nature was nearly always restful, if not inspiring. + +Ralph came down to breakfast an hour later than was his custom. He was +so weary with the work of the week that he was half disposed to lie in +bed till the following morning. He found his breakfast set for him in +what was called the "living-room," but neither Ruth nor his mother was +visible. He ate his food without tasting it. His mind was too full of +other things to trouble himself about the quality of his victuals. When +he had finished he rose slowly from his chair, took a cloth cap from a +peg, and went through the open door into the garden. Plucking a sprig of +lad's-love, he stuck it into the buttonhole of his jacket, then climbed +over the hedge into an adjoining field. + +He came face to face with his father ten minutes later, and stared at +him in surprise. + +"Why, I thought you had gone to your meeting!" he said, in a tone of +wonderment. + +"I don't feel in any mood for meetings," David answered gloomily. "I +reckon I'm best by myself." + +"I fancy we've all been thinking the same thing these last few days," +Ralph answered, with a smile. "I'm not sure, however, that we're right. +We've got to talk about things sooner or later." + +"Yes; I suppose that is so," David answered wearily. "But, to tell you +the truth, I haven't got my bearings yet." + +"I reckon our first business is to try to keep afloat," Ralph answered. +"If we can do that, we may find our bearings later on." + +"You will find no difficulty, Ralph, for you are young, and have all the +world before you. Besides, I've given you an education. I knew it was +all I could give you." + +"I'm afraid it won't be of much use to me in a place like this," Ralph +answered, with a despondent look in his eyes. + +"There's no knowing, my boy. Knowledge, they say, is power. If you are +thrown overboard you will swim; but with mother and me it is different. +We're too old to start again, and all our savings are swallowed up." + +"Not all, surely, father! There are the crops and cattle and +implements." + +David shook his head. + +"Over against the crops," he said, "are the seed bills, and the manure +bills, and the ground rent, and over against the cattle is the mortgage. +I never thought of telling you, Ralph, for I never reckoned on this +trouble coming. But when I started I thought the money I had would be +quite enough not only to build the house and outbuildings, and bring the +farm under cultivation, but to stock it as well. But it was a much more +expensive business than I knew." + +"And so you had to mortgage the farm?" + +"No, my lad. Nobody would lend money on a three-life lease." + +"And yet you risked your all on it?" + +"Ah, my boy, I did it for the best. God knows I did! I wanted to provide +a nest for our old age." + +"No one will blame you on that score," Ralph answered, with tears in his +eyes; "but the best ships founder sometimes." + +"Yes. I have kept saying to myself ever since the news came that I am +not the only man who has come to grief, and yet I don't know, my boy, +that that helps me very much." + +Ralph was silent for several minutes; then he said-- + +"Is this mortgage or note of hand or bill of sale--or whatever it +is--for a large amount?" + +"Well, rather, Ralph. I'm afraid, if we have to shift from here, +there'll be little or nothing left." + +"But if you are willing to remain as tenant, Sir John will make no +attempt to move you?" + +"I'm not so sure, my son. Sir John is a hard man and a bitter, and he +has no liking for me. At the last election I was not on his side, as you +may remember, and he never forgets such things." + +Ralph turned away and bit his lip. The memory of what the squire said to +him a few days previously swept over him like a cold flood. + +"I'm inclined to think, father," he said at length, "that we'd better +prepare for the worst. It'll be better than building on any +consideration we may receive from the squire." + +"I think you are right, my boy." And they turned and walked toward the +house side by side. + +They continued their talk in the house, and over the dinner-table. Now +that the ice was broken the stream of conversation flowed freely. Ruth +and Mrs. Penlogan let out the pent-up feelings of their hearts, and +their tears fell in abundance. + +It did the women good to cry. It eased the pain that was becoming +intolerable. Ralph talked bravely and heroically. All was not lost. They +had each other, and they had health and strength, and neither of them +was afraid of hard work. + +By tea-time they had talked each other into quite a hopeful frame of +mind. Mrs. Penlogan was inclined to the belief that Sir John would +recognise the equity of the case, and would let them remain as tenants +at a very reasonable rent. + +"Don't let us build on that, mother," Ralph said. "If he foregoes the +tiniest mite of his pound of flesh, so much the better; but to reckon on +it might mean disappointment. We'd better face the worst, and if we do +it bravely we shall win." + +In this spirit they went off to the evening service at the little chapel +at Veryan. The building was plain--four walls with a lid, somebody +described it--the service homely in the extreme, the singing decidedly +amateurish, but there were warmth and emotion and conviction, and +everybody was pleased to see the Penlogans in their places. + +At the close of the service a little crowd gathered round them, and +manifested their sympathy in a dozen unspoken ways. Of course, everybody +knew what had happened, and everybody wondered what the squire would do +in such a case. The law was on his side, no doubt, but there ought to be +some place for equity also. David Penlogan had scarcely begun yet to +reap any of the fruit of his labour, and it would be a most unfair +thing, law or no law, that the ground landlord should come in and take +everything. + +"Oh, he can't do it," said an old farmer, when discussing the matter +with his neighbour. "He may be a hard man, but he'd never be able to +hold up his head again if he was to do sich a thing." + +"It's my opinion he'll stand on the law of the thing," was the reply. "A +bargain's a bargain, as you know very well, an' what's the use of a +bargain ef you don't stick to 'un?" + +"Ay, but law's one thing and right's another, and a man's bound to have +some regard for fair play." + +"He ought to have, no doubt; but the squire's 'ard up, as everybody +knows, and is puttin' on the screw on every tenant he's got. My opinion +is he'll stand on the law." + +No one said anything to David, however, about what had happened, except +in the most indirect way. Sunday evening was not the time to discuss +secular matters. Nevertheless, David felt the unspoken sympathy of his +neighbours, and returned home comforted. + +The next week passed as the previous one had done, and the week after +that. The squire had not come across, nor sent his steward. David began +to fear that the long silence was ominous. Mrs. Penlogan held to the +belief that Sir John meant to deal generously by them. Ralph kept his +thoughts to himself, but on the whole he was not hopeful. + +The weather continued beautifully fine, and all hands were kept busy in +the fields. Except on Sundays they scarcely ever caught a glimpse of +their neighbours. No one had any time to pay visits or receive them. The +harvest must be got in, if possible, before the weather broke, and to +that end everyone who could help--little and big, young and old--was +pressed into the service. + +On the big farms there was a good deal of fun and hilarity. The village +folk--lads and lasses alike--who knew anything about harvest work, and +were willing to earn an extra sixpence, were made heartily welcome. +Consequently there was not a little horse-play, and no small amount of +flirtation, especially after night came on, and the harvest moon began +to climb up into the heavens. + +Then, when the field was safely sheafed and shocked, they repaired to +the farm kitchen, where supper was laid, and where ancient jokes were +trotted out amid roars of laughter, and where the hero of the evening +was the man who had a new story to tell. Supper ended, they made their +way home through the quiet lanes or across the fields. That, to some of +the young people, seemed the best part of the day. They forgot the +weariness engendered by a dozen hours in the open air while they +listened to a story old as the human race, and yet as new to-day as when +syllabled by the first happy lover. + +But on the small farms, where no outside help was employed, there was +very little mirth or hilarity. All the romance of harvest was found +where the crowd was gathered. Young people sometimes gave their services +of an evening, so that they could take part in the fun. + +As David Penlogan and his family toiled in the fields in the light of +the harvest moon they sometimes heard sounds of merry-making and +laughter floating across the valley from distant farmsteads, and they +wondered a little bit sadly where the next harvest-time would find them. + +On the third Saturday night they stood still to listen to a familiar +sound in that part of the country. + +"Listen, Ralph," Ruth said, "they're cutting neck at Treligga." + +Cutting neck means cutting the last shock of the year's corn, and is +celebrated by a big shout in the field, and a special supper in the +farmer's kitchen. + +Ralph raised himself from his stooping posture, and his father did the +same. Ruth took her mother's hand in hers, and all four stood and +listened. Clear and distinct across the moonlit fields the words rang-- + +"What have 'ee? What have 'ee?" + +"A neck! A neck!" + +"Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah!" + +Slowly the echoes died over the hills, and then silence reigned again. + +Ralph and David had also cut neck, but they raised no shout over it. +They were in no mood for jubilation. + +Sir John Hamblyn had not spoken yet, nor had his steward been across to +see them. Why those many days of grace, neither David nor Ralph could +surmise. + +It was reported that the squire's daughter was slowly recovering from +her accident, but that many months would elapse before she was quite +well and able to ride again. + +"We shall not have to wait much longer, depend upon it," David said, on +Monday morning, as he and Ralph went out in the fields together; and so +it proved. About ten o'clock a horseman was seen riding up the lane +toward the house. David was the first to catch sight of him. + +"It's the squire himself," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +DAVID SPEAKS HIS MIND + + +Sir John alighted from his horse and threw the reins over the garden +gate, then he walked across the stockyard, and looked at the barn and +the cowsheds, taking particular notice of the state of repair they were +in. After awhile he returned to the dwelling-house and walked round it +deliberately, looking carefully all the time at the roof and windows, +but he did not attempt to go inside. + +David and Ralph watched him from the field, but neither attempted to go +near him. + +"He'll come to us when he has anything to say," David said, with a +little catch in his voice. + +Ralph noticed that his father trembled a good deal, and that he was pale +even to the lips. + +The squire came hurrying across the fields at length, slapping his leg +as he walked with his riding-crop. His face was hard and set, like a man +who had braced himself to do an unpleasant task, and was determined to +carry it through. Ralph watched his face narrowly as he drew near, but +he got no hope or inspiration from it. The squire did not notice him, +but addressed himself at once to David. + +"Good-morning, Penlogan!" he said. "I see you have got down all your +corn." + +"Yes, sir, we cut neck on Saturday night." + +"And not a bad crop either, by the look of it." + +"No, sir, it's pretty middling. The farm is just beginning to show some +fruit for all the labour and money that have been spent on it." + +"Exactly so. Labour and manure always tell in the end. You know, of +course, that the lease has fallen in?" + +"I do, sir. It's hard on the parson at St. Goram, and it's harder lines +on me." + +"Yes, it's rough on you both, I admit. But we can't be against these +things. When the Almighty does a thing, no man can say nay." + +"I'm not so sure that the Almighty does a lot of those things that +people say He does." + +"You're not?" + +"No, sir. I don't see that the parson's son had any call to go out to +Egypt to shoot Arabs, particularly when he knew that my farm hung on his +life." + +"He went at the call of duty," said the squire unctuously; "went to +defend his Queen and country." + +"Don't believe it," said David doggedly. "Neither the Queen nor the +country was in any danger. He went because he had a roving disposition +and no stomach for useful ways." + +"Well, anyhow, he's dead," said the squire, "and naturally we are all +sorry--sorry for his father particularly." + +"I suppose you are not sorry for me?" David questioned. + +"Well, yes; in some respects I am. The luck has gone against you, +there's no denying, and one does not like to see a fellow down on his +luck." + +"Then in that case I presume you do not intend to take advantage of my +bad luck?" + +The squire raised his eyebrows, and his lip curled slightly. + +"I don't quite understand what you mean," he said. + +"Well, it's this way," David said mildly. "According to law this little +farm is now yours." + +"Exactly." + +"But according to right it is not yours--it is mine." + +"Oh, indeed?" + +"You need not say, 'Oh, indeed.' You can see it as clearly as I do. I've +made the farm. I reclaimed it from the waste. I've fenced it and manured +it, and built houses upon it. And what twelve years ago was a furzy down +is now a smiling homestead, and you have not spent a penny piece on it, +and yet you say it is yours." + +"Of course it is mine." + +"Well, I say it isn't yours. It's mine by every claim of equity and +justice." + +"I'm not talking about the claims of equity and justice," the squire +said, colouring violently. "I take my stand on the law of the country; +that's good enough for me. And what's good enough for me ought to be +good enough for you," he added, with a snort. + +"That don't by any means follow," David answered quietly. "The laws of +the land were made by the rich in the interests of the rich. That +they're good for you there is no denying; but for me they're cruel and +oppressive." + +"I don't see it," the squire said, with an impatient shrug of his +shoulders. "You live in a free country, and have all the advantages of +our great institutions." + +"I suppose you call the leasehold system one of our great institutions?" +David questioned. + +"Well, and what then?" + +"I don't see much advantage in living under it," was the reply. + +"You might have something a great deal worse," the squire said angrily. +"The high-and-mighty airs some of you people take on are simply +outrageous." + +"We don't ask for any favours," David said meekly. "But we've a right to +live as well as other people." + +"Nobody denies your right, that I know of." + +"But what am I to do now that my little farm is gone? All the savings of +a lifetime, and all the toil of the last dozen years, fall into your +pocket." + +"I grant that the luck has been against you in this matter. But we have +no right to complain of the ways of Providence. The luck might just as +easily have gone against me as against you." + +"I don't believe in mixing luck and Providence up in that way," David +answered, with averted eyes. "But, as far as I can see, what you call +luck couldn't possibly have gone against you." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you laid down the conditions, and however the thing turned out +you would stand to win." + +"I don't see it." + +"You don't?" And David gave a loud sniff. "Why, if all the 'lives' had +lived till they were eighty, I and mine would not have got our own +back." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" the squire said angrily. "Besides, you agreed to +the conditions." + +"I know it," David answered sadly. "You would grant me no better, and I +was hopeful and ignorant, and looked at things through rose-coloured +glasses." + +"I'm sure the farm has turned out very well," the squire replied, with a +hurried glance round him. + +"It's just beginning to yield some little return," David said, looking +off to the distant fields. "For years it's done little more than pay the +ground rent. But this year it seems to have turned the corner. It ought +to be a good little farm in the future." And David sighed. + +"Yes, it ought to be a good farm, and what is more, it is a good farm," +the squire said fiercely. "Upon my soul, I believe I've let it too +cheap!" + +"You've done what, sir?" David questioned, lifting his head suddenly. + +"I said I believed I had let it too cheap. It's worth more than I am +going to get for it." + +"Do you mean to say you have let it?" David said, in a tone of +incredulity. + +"Of course I have let it. I could have let it five times over, for +there's no denying it's an exceedingly pretty and compact little farm." + +At this point Ralph came forward with white face and trembling lips. + +"Did I hear you tell father that you had let this farm?" he questioned, +bringing the words out slowly and with an effort. + +"My business is with your father only," the squire said stiffly, and +with a curl of the lip. + +"What concerns my father concerns me," Ralph answered quietly, "for my +labour has gone into the farm as well as his." + +"That's nothing to the point," the squire answered stiffly. And he +turned again to David, who stood with blanched face and downcast eyes. + +"I want to make it as easy and pleasant for you as possible," the squire +went on. "So I have arranged that you can stay here till Michaelmas +without paying any rent at all." + +David looked up with an expression of wonder in his eyes, but he did not +reply. + +"Between now and Michaelmas you will be able to look round you," the +squire continued, "and, in case you don't intend to take a farm anywhere +else, you will be able to get your corn threshed and such things as you +don't want to take with you turned into money. William Jenkins, I +understand, is willing to take the root crops at a valuation, also the +straw, which, by the terms of your lease, cannot be taken off the farm." + +"So William Jenkins is to come here, is he?" David questioned suddenly. + +"I have let the farm to him," the squire replied pompously, "and, as I +have before intimated, he will take possession at Michaelmas." + +"It is an accursed and a cruel shame!" Ralph blurted out vehemently. + +The squire started and looked at him. + +"And why could you not have let the farm to me?" David questioned +mildly, "or, at any rate, given me the refusal of it? You said just now +that you were sorry for me. Is this the way you show your sorrow? Is +this doing to others as you would be done by?" + +"I have surely the right to let my own farm to whomsoever I please," the +squire said, in a tone of offended dignity. + +"This farm was not yours to start with," Ralph said, flinging himself in +front of the squire. "Before you enclosed it, it was common land, and +belonged to the people. You had no more right to it than the man in the +moon. But because you were strong, and the poor people had no power to +oppose you, you stole it from them." + +"What is that, young man?" Sir John said, stepping back and striking a +defiant attitude. + +"I said you stole Polskiddy Downs from the people. It had been common +land from time immemorial, and you know it." And Ralph stared him +straight in the eyes without flinching. "You took away the rights of the +people, shut them out from their own, let the land that did not belong +to you, and pocketed the profits." + +"Young man, I'll make you suffer for this insult," Sir John stammered, +white with passion. + +"And God will make you suffer for this insult and wrong to us," Ralph +replied, with flashing eyes. "Do you think that robbing the poor, and +cheating honest people out of their rights, will go unpunished?" + +Sir John raised his riding-crop suddenly, and struck at Ralph with all +his might. Ralph caught the crop in his hand, and wrenched it from his +grasp, then deliberately broke it across his knee and flung the pieces +from him. + +[Illustration: "SIR JOHN RAISED HIS HUNTING-CROP, AND STRUCK AT RALPH +WITH ALL HIS MIGHT."] + +For several moments the squire seemed too astonished either to speak or +move. In all his life before he had never been so insulted. He glowered +at Ralph, and looked him up and down, but he did not go near him. He was +no match for this young giant in physical strength. + +David seemed almost as much astonished as the squire. He looked at his +son, but he did not open his lips. + +The squire recovered his voice after a few moments. + +"If I had been disposed to deal generously with you----" he began. + +"You never were so disposed," Ralph interposed bitingly. "You did your +worst before you came. We understand now why you kept away so long. I +wonder you are not ashamed to show your face here now." + +"Cannot you put a muzzle on this wild beast?" the squire said, turning +to David. + +"He has not spoken to you very respectfully," David replied slowly, "but +there's no denying the truth of much that he has said." + +"Indeed! Then let me tell you I am glad you will have to clear out of +the parish." + +"You would have been glad if I could have been cleared out of the parish +before the last election," David said insinuatingly. + +"I have never interfered with your politics since you came." + +"You had no right to; but you've intimidated a great many others, as +everybody in the division knows." + +Sir John grew violently red again, and turned on his heel. He had meant +to be conciliatory when he came, and to prove to David, if possible, +that he had dealt by him very considerately, and even generously. But +the tables had been turned on him unexpectedly, and he had been insulted +to his face. + +"This is the result of the Board schools," he reflected to himself +angrily. "I always said that education would be the ruin of the working +classes. They learn enough to make them impertinent and discontented, +and then they are flung adrift to insult their betters and undermine our +most sacred institutions. That young fellow will be a curse to society +if he's allowed to go on. If I could have my way, I'd lock him up for a +year. He's evidently infected his father with his notions, and he'll go +on infecting other people." And he faced round again, with an angry look +in his eyes. + +"I'm sorry I took the trouble to come and speak to you at all," he said. +"I did it in good part, and with the best intentions. I wanted to show +you that my action is strictly within the law, and that in letting you +remain till Michaelmas I was doing a generous thing. But clearly my good +feeling and good intentions are thrown away." + +"Good feelings are best shown in kind deeds," David said quietly. "If +you had come to me and said, 'David, you are unfortunate, but as your +loss is my gain, I won't insist on the pound of flesh the law allows me, +but I'll let you have the farm for another eight or ten years on the +ground rent alone, so that you can recoup yourself a little for all your +expenditure'--if you had said that, sir, I should have believed in your +good feelings. But since you have let the little place over my head, and +turned me out of the house I built and paid for out of my own earnings, +I think, sir, the less said about your good feelings the better." + +"As you will," the squire replied stiffly, and in a hurt tone. "As you +refuse to meet me in a friendly spirit, you must not be surprised if I +insist upon my own to the full. My agent will see you about putting the +place in proper repair. I notice that one of the sheds is slated only +about half-way up, the remainder being covered with corrugated iron. You +will see to it that the entire roof is properly slated. The stable door +is also worn out, and will have to be replaced by a new one. I noticed, +also, as I rode along, that several of the gates are sadly out of +repair. These, by the terms of the lease, you will be required to make +good. If I mistake not, also the windows and doors of the dwelling-house +are in need of a coat of paint. I did not go inside, but my agent will +go over the place and make an inventory of the things requiring to be +done." + +"He may make out twenty inventories if he likes," David said angrily, +"but I shan't do a stitch more to the place than I've done already." + +"Oh, well, that is not a point we need discuss," the squire said, with a +cynical smile. "The man who attempts to defy the law soon discovers +which is the stronger." And with a wave of the hand, he turned on his +heel and strode away. + +David stood still and stared after him, and after a few moments Ralph +stole up to his side. + +"Well, Ralph, my boy," David said at length, with a little shake in his +voice, "he's done his worst." + +"It's only what I expected," Ralph answered. "Now, we've got to do our +best." + +David shook his head. + +"There's no more best in this world for me," he said. + +"Don't say that, father. Wherever we go we shan't work harder than we've +done on the farm." + +"Ah, but here I've worked for myself. I've been my own master, with no +one to hector me. And I've loved the place and I've loved the work. And +I've put so much of my life into it that it seems like part of myself. +Boy, it will break my heart!" And the tears welled suddenly up into his +eyes and rolled down his cheeks. + +Ralph did not reply. He felt that he had no word of comfort to offer. +None of them as yet felt the full weight of the blow. They would only +realise how much they had lost when they had to wander forth to a +strange place, and see strangers occupying the home they loved. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CONFLICTING EMOTIONS + + +Two days later Sir John's agent came across to Hillside Farm, and made a +careful inspection of the premises, after which he made out a list of +repairs that needed doing, and handed it to David. + +"What is this?" David asked, taking the paper without looking at it. + +"It is a list of repairs that you will have to execute before leaving +the place." + +"Oh, indeed!" And David deliberately tore the paper in half, then threw +the pieces on the ground and stamped upon them. + +"That's foolish," the agent said, "for you'll have to do the repairs +whether you like it or no." + +"I never will," David answered vehemently. And he turned on his heel and +walked away. + +In the end, the agent got the repairs done himself, and distrained upon +David's goods for the amount. + +By Michaelmas Day David was ready to take his departure. Since his +interview with the squire he had never been seen to smile. He made no +complaint to anyone, neither did he sit in idleness and mope. There was +a good deal to be done before the final scene, and he did his full share +of it. The corn was threshed and sold. The cattle were disposed of at +Summercourt Fair. The root crops and hay were taken at a valuation by +the incoming tenant. The farm implements were disposed of at a public +auction, and when all the accounts had been squared, and the mortgage +cleared off, and the ground rent paid, David found himself in possession +of his household furniture and thirty pounds in hard cash. + +David's neighbours sympathised with him greatly, but none of them gave +any more for what they bought than they could help. They admitted that +things went dirt cheap, that the cattle and implements were sold for a +great deal less than their real value; but that was inevitable in a +forced sale. When the seller was compelled to sell, and there was no +reserve, and the buyers were not compelled to buy, and there was very +little competition, the seller was bound to get the worst of it. + +David looked sadly at the little heap of sovereigns--all that was left +out of the savings of a lifetime. He had spent a thousand pounds on the +farm, and, in addition, had put in twelve years of the hardest work of +his life, and this was all that was left. What he thought no one knew, +not even his wife, for he kept his thoughts and his feelings to himself. + +The day before their departure, David took Ralph for a walk to the +extreme end of the farm. + +"I have something to tell you, my boy, and something to show you." + +Ralph wondered what there was to see that he had not already seen, but +he asked no questions. + +"You may remember, Ralph," David said, when they had got some distance +from the house, "that I told you once that I had discovered a tin lode +running across the farm?" + +"Yes, I remember well," Ralph answered, looking up with an interested +light in his eyes. + +"I want to show it to you, my boy." + +"Why, what's the use?" Ralph questioned, after a momentary pause. "If it +were a reef of gold it would be of no value to us." + +"Yes, that seems true enough now," David answered sadly, "but there's no +knowing what may happen in the future." + +"I don't see how we can ever benefit by it, whatever may happen." + +"I am not thinking of myself, Ralph. My day's work is nearly over. But +new conditions may arise, new discoveries may be made, and if you know, +you may be able to sell your knowledge for something." + +Ralph shook his head dubiously, and for several minutes they tramped +along side by side in silence. + +Then David spoke again. + +"It is farewell to-day, my boy. We shall toil in these fields no more." + +"That fact by itself does not trouble me," Ralph said. + +"You do not like farming," his father answered. "You never did; and +sometimes I have felt sorry to keep you here, and yet I could not spare +you. You have done the work of two, and you have done it for your bare +keep." + +"I have done it for the squire," Ralph answered, with a cynical laugh. + +"Ah, well, it is over now, my boy, and we know the worst. In a few years +nothing will matter, for we shall all be asleep." + +Ralph glanced suddenly at his father, but quickly withdrew his eyes. +There was a look upon his face that hurt him--a look as of some hunted +creature that was appealing piteously for life. + +For weeks past Ralph had wished that his father would get angry. If he +would only storm and rave at fortune generally, and at the squire in +particular, he believed that it would do him good. Such calm and quiet +resignation did not seem natural or healthy. Ralph sometimes wondered if +what his father predicted had come true--that the loss had broken his +heart. + +They reached the outer edge of the farm at length, and David paused in +the shadow of a tree. + +"Come here, my boy," he said. And Ralph went and stood by his side. "You +see the parlour chimney?" David questioned. + +"Yes." + +"Well, now draw a straight line from this tree to the parlour chimney, +and what do you strike?" + +"Well, nothing except a gatepost over there in Stone Close." + +"That's just it. It was while I was digging a pit to sink that post in +that I struck the back of the lode." + +"And you say it's rich in tin?" + +"Very. It intersects the big Helvin lode at that point, and the junction +makes for wealth. There'll be a fortune made out of this little farm +some day--not out of what grows on the surface, but out of what is dug +up from underground." + +"And in which direction does the lode run?" + +"Due east and west. We are standing on it now, and it passes under the +house." + +"Then it passes under Peter Ladock's farm also?" Ralph questioned. And +he turned and looked over the boundary hedge across their neighbour's +farm. + +"Ay; but the lode's no use out there," David said. + +"Why?" + +"Well, you see, 'tisn't mineral-bearing strata, that's all. I dug a pit +just where you are standing, and came upon the lode two feet below the +surface. But there's no tin in it here scarcely. It's the same lode that +the spring comes out of down in the delf, and I've sampled it there. But +all along that high ridge where it cuts through the Helvin it's richer +than anything I know in this part of the county." + +"But the tin might give out as you sink." + +"It might, but it would be something unheard of, if it did. If I know +anything about mining--and I think I know a bit--that lode will be +twenty per cent. richer a hundred fathoms down than it is at the +surface." + +"Oh, well!" Ralph said, with a sigh, "rich or poor, it can make no +difference to us." + +"Perhaps not--perhaps not," David said wistfully. "But it may be +valuable to somebody some day. I have passed the secret to you. Some day +you may pass it on to another. The future is with God," and he drew a +long breath, and turned his face toward home, which in a few hours would +be his home no more. + +Ralph turned his face in another direction. + +"I think I will go on to St. Goram," he said, "and see how they are +getting on with the cottage. You see we have to move into it to-morrow." + +"As you will," David answered, and he strode away across the stubble. + +Ralph struck across the fields into Dingley Bottom, and then up the +gentle slant toward Treliskey Plantation. When he reached the stile he +rested for several minutes, and recalled the meeting and conversation +between Dorothy Hamblyn and himself. How long ago it seemed, and how +much had happened since then. + +Though he loathed the very name of Hamblyn, he was, nevertheless, +thankful that the squire's daughter was getting slowly better. She had +been seen once or twice in St. Goram in a bath-chair, drawn by a donkey. +"Looking very pale and so much older," the villagers said. + +By all the rules of logic and common sense, Ralph felt that he ought not +only to hate the squire, but everybody belonging to him. Sir John was +the tyrant of the parish, the oppressor of the poor, the obstructor of +everything that was for the good of the people, and no doubt his +daughter had inherited his temper and disposition; while as for the son, +people said that he gave promise of being worse than his father. + +But for some reason Ralph was never able to work up any angry feeling +against Dorothy. He hardly knew why. She had given evidence of being as +imperious and dictatorial as any autocrat could desire. She had spoken +to him as if he were her stable boy. + +And yet---- + +He recalled how he had rested her fair head upon his lap, how he had +carried her in his arms and felt her heart beating feebly against his, +how he had given her to drink down in the hollow, and when he lifted her +up again she clasped her arms feebly about his neck, and he felt her +cheek almost close to his. + +It is true he did not know then that she was the squire's daughter, and +so he let his sympathies go out to her unawares. But the curious thing +was he had not been able to recall his sympathy, though he had +discovered directly after that she was the daughter of the man he hated +above all others. + +As he made his way across the broad and billowy common towards the high +road, he found himself wondering what Lord Probus was like. By all the +laws and considerations of self-interest, he ought to have been +wondering how he and his father were to earn their living--for, as yet, +that was a problem that neither of them had solved. But for a moment it +was a relief to forget the sorrowful side of life, and think of +something else. And, as he had carried Dorothy Hamblyn in his arms every +step of the way down the high road, it was the most natural thing in the +world that his thoughts should turn in her direction, and from her to +the man she had promised to marry. + +For some reason or other he felt a little thrill of satisfaction that +the wedding had not taken place, and that there was no prospect of its +taking place for several months to come. + +Not that it could possibly make any difference to him; only he did not +see why the rich and strong should always have their heart's desire, +while others, who had as much right to live as they had, were cheated +all along the line. + +Who Lord Probus was Ralph had not the slightest idea. He was a +comparatively new importation. He had bought Rostrevor Castle from the +Penwarricks, who had fallen upon evil times, and had restored it at +great expense. But beyond that Ralph knew nothing. + +That he was a young man Ralph took for granted. An elderly bachelor +would not want to marry, and a young girl like Dorothy Hamblyn would +never dream of marrying an elderly man. + +To Ralph Penlogan it seemed almost a sin that a mere child, as Dorothy +seemed to be, should think of marriage at all. But since she was going +to get married, it was perfectly natural to assume that she was going to +marry a young man. + +He reached the high road at length, and then hurried forward with long +strides in the direction of St. Goram. + +The cottage they had taken was at the extreme end of the village, and, +curiously enough, was in the neighbouring parish of St. Ivel. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PREPARING TO GO + + +Almost close to St. Goram were the lodge gates of Hamblyn Manor. The +manor itself was at the end of a long and winding avenue, and behind a +wide belt of trees. As Ralph reached the lodge gates he walked a little +more slowly, then paused for a moment and looked at the lodge with its +quaint gables, its thatched roof and overhanging eaves. Beyond the gates +the broad avenue looked very majestic and magnificently rich in colour. +The yellow leaves were only just beginning to fall, while the evergreens +looked all the greener by contrast with the reds and browns. + +He turned away at length, and came suddenly face to face with "the +squire's little maid." She was seated in her rubber-tyred bath-chair, +which was drawn by a white donkey. By the side of the donkey walked a +boy in buttons. Ralph almost gasped. So great a change in so short a +time he had never witnessed before. Only eight or nine weeks had passed +since the accident, and yet they seemed to have added years to her life. +She was only a girl when he carried her from Treliskey Plantation down +to the high road. Now she was a woman with deep, pathetic eyes, and +cheeks hollowed with pain. + +Ralph felt the colour mount to his face in a moment, and his heart +stabbed him with a sudden poignancy of regret. He wished again, as he +had wished many times during the last two months, that he had pocketed +his pride and opened the gate. It might be quite true that she had no +right to speak to him as she did, quite true also that it was the most +natural and human thing in the world to resent being spoken to as though +he were a serf. Nevertheless, the heroic thing--the divine thing--would +have been to return good for evil, and meet arrogance with generosity. + +He would have passed on without presuming to recognise her, but she +would not let him. + +"Stop, James," she called to the boy; and then she smiled on Ralph ever +so sweetly, and held out her hand. + +For a moment a hot wave of humiliation swept over him from head to foot. +He seemed to realise for the first time in his life what was meant by +heaping coals of fire on one's head. He had the whole contents of a +burning fiery furnace thrown over him. He was being scorched through +every fibre of his being. + +At first he almost resented the humiliation. Then another feeling took +possession of him, a feeling of admiration, almost of reverence. Here +was nobleness such as he himself had failed to reach. Here was one high +in the social scale, and higher still in grace and goodness, +condescending to him, who had indirectly been the cause of all her +suffering. Then in a moment his mood changed again to resentment. This +was the daughter of the man who had broken his father's heart. But a +moment ago he had looked into his father's hopeless, suffering eyes, and +felt as though it would be the sweetest drop of his life if he could +make John Hamblyn and all his tribe suffer as he had made them suffer. + +But even as he reached out his hard brown hand to take the pale and +wasted one that was extended to him, the pendulum swung back once more; +the better and nobler feeling came back. The large sad eyes that looked +up into his had in them no flash of pride or arrogance. The smile that +played over her wan, pale face seemed as richly benevolent as the +sunshine of God. Possibly she knew nothing of the calamity that had +overtaken him and his, a calamity that her father might have so +wonderfully lightened, and at scarcely any cost to himself, had he been +so disposed. But it was not his place to blame the child for what her +father had done or left undone. + +The soft, thin fingers were enveloped in his big strong palm, and then +his eyes filled. A lump came up into his throat and prevented him from +speaking. Never in all his life before had he seemed so little master of +himself. + +Then a low, sweet voice broke the silence, and all his self-possession +came back to him. + +"I am so glad I have met you." + +"Yes?" he questioned. + +"I wanted to thank you for saving my life." + +He dropped his eyes slowly, and a hot wave swept over him from head to +foot. + +"Dr. Barrow says if you had not found me when you did I should have +died." And she looked at him as if expecting an answer. But he did not +reply or even raise his head. + +"And you carried me such a long distance, too," she went on, after a +pause; "and I heard Dr. Barrow tell the nurse that you bound up my head +splendidly." + +"You were not much to carry," he said, raising his head suddenly. +"But--but you are less now." And his voice sank almost to a whisper. + +"I have grown very thin," she said, with a wan smile. "But the doctor +says I shall get all right again with time and patience." + +"I hoped you would have got well much sooner," he said, looking timidly +into her face. "I have suffered a good deal during your illness." + +"You?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "Why?" + +"Because if I had not been surly and boorish, the accident would not +have happened. If you had died, I should never have forgiven myself." + +"No, no; it was not your fault at all," she said quickly. "I have +thought a good deal about it while I have been ill, and I have learnt +some things that I might never have learnt any other way, and I see now +that--that----" And she dropped her eyes to hide the moisture that had +suddenly gathered. "I see now that it was very wrong of me to speak to +you as I did." + +"You were reared to command," he said, ready in a moment to champion her +cause, "and I ought to have considered that. Besides, it isn't a man's +place to be rude to a girl--I beg your pardon, miss, I mean to a----" + +"No, no," she interrupted, with a laugh; "don't alter the word, please. +If I feel almost an old woman now, I was only a girl then. How much we +may live in a few weeks! Don't you think so?" + +"You have found that out, have you?" he questioned. And a troubled look +came into his eyes. + +"You see, lying in bed, day after day and week after week, gives one +time to think----" + +"Yes?" he questioned, after a brief pause. + +She did not reply for several seconds; then she went on as if there had +been no break. "I don't think I ever thought seriously about anything +before I was ill. I took everything as it came, and as most things were +good, I just enjoyed myself, and there seemed nothing else in the world +but just to enjoy one's self----" + +"There's not much enjoyment for most people," he said, seeing she +hesitated. + +"I don't think enjoyment ought to be the end of life," she replied +seriously. Then, suddenly raising her eyes, she said-- + +"Do you ever get perplexed about the future?" + +"I never get anything else," he stammered. "I'm all at sea this very +moment." + +"You? Tell me about it," she said eagerly. + +He shrugged his shoulders, and looked along the road toward the village. +Should he tell her? Should he open her eyes to the doings of her own +father? Should he point out some of the oppressive conditions under +which the poor lived? + +For a moment or two there was silence. He felt that her eyes were fixed +intently on his face, that she was waiting for him to speak. + +"I suppose your father has never told you that we have lost our little +farm?" he questioned abruptly, turning his head and looking hard at her +at the same time. + +"No. How have you lost it? I do not understand." + +"Well, it was this way." And he went on to explain the nature of the +tenure on which his father leased his farm, but he was careful to avoid +any mention of her father's name. + +"And you say that in twelve years all the three 'lives' have died?" + +"That is unfortunately the case." + +"And you have no longer any right to the house you built, nor to the +fields you reclaimed from the downs?" + +"That is so." + +"And the lord of the manor has taken possession?" + +"He has let it to another man, who takes possession the day after +to-morrow." + +"And the lord of the manor puts the rent into his own pocket?" + +"Yes." + +"And your father has to go out into the world and start afresh?" + +"We leave Hillside to-morrow. I'm going to St. Goram now, to see if the +little cottage is ready. After to-morrow father starts life afresh, in +his old age, having lost everything." + +"But wasn't your father very foolish to risk his all on such a chance? +Life is always such an uncertain thing." + +"I think he was very foolish; and he thinks so now. But at the time he +was very hopeful. He thought the cost of bringing the land under +cultivation would be much less than it has proved to be. He hoped, too, +that the crops would be much heavier. Then, you see, he was born in the +parish, and he wanted to end his days in it--in a little home of his +own." + +"It seems very hard," she said, with a distant look in her eyes. + +"It's terribly hard," he answered; "and made all the harder by the +landlord letting the farm over father's head." + +"He could have let you remain?" + +"Of course he could, if he had been disposed to be generous, or even +just." + +"I've often heard that Lord St. Goram is a very hard man." + +He started, and looked at her with a questioning light in his eyes. + +"He needn't have claimed all his pound of flesh," she went on. "Law +isn't everything. Nobody would have expected that all three 'lives' +would have died in a dozen years." + +"I believe the law of average works out to about forty-seven years," he +said. + +"In which case your father ought to have his farm another thirty-five +years." + +"He ought. In fact, no lease ought to be less than ninety-nine years. +However, the chances of life have gone against father, and so we must +submit." + +"I don't understand any man exacting all his rights in such a case," she +said sympathetically. "If only people would do to others as they would +be done unto, how much happier the world would be!" + +"Ah, if that were the case," he said, with a smile, "soldiers and +policemen and lawyers would find all their occupations gone." + +"But, all the same, what's religion worth if we don't try to put it into +practice? The lord of the manor has, no doubt, the law on his side. He +can legally claim his pound of flesh, but there's no justice in it." + +"It seems to me the strong do not often know what justice means," he +said, with an icy tone in his voice. + +"No; don't say that," she replied, looking at him reproachfully. "I +think most people are really kind and good, and would like to help +people if they only knew how." + +"I'm afraid most people think only of themselves," he answered. + +"No, no; I'm sure----" Then she paused suddenly, while a look of +distress or of annoyance swept over her face. "Why, here comes Lord +Probus," she said, in a lower tone of voice, while the hot blood flamed +up into her pale cheeks in a moment. + +Ralph turned quickly round and looked towards the park gates. + +"Is that Lord Probus?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Good----" But he did not finish the sentence. She looked up into his +face, and saw that it was dark with anger or disgust. Then she glanced +again at the approaching figure of her affianced husband, then back +again to the tall, handsome youth who stood by her side, and for a +moment she involuntarily contrasted the two men. The lord and the +commoner; the rich brewer and the poor, ejected tenant. + +"Please pardon me for detaining you so long," he said hurriedly. + +"You have not detained me at all," she replied. "It has been a pleasure +to talk to you, for the days are very long and very dull." + +"I hope you will soon be as well as ever," he answered; and he turned +quickly on his heel and strode away. + +"And I hope your father will soon----" But the end of the sentence did +not reach his ears. For the moment he was not concerned about himself. +The tragedy of his own life seemed of small account. It was the tragedy +of her life that troubled him. It seemed a wicked thing that this +fragile girl--not yet out of her teens--should marry a man old enough +almost to be her grandfather. + +What lay behind it, he wondered? What influences had been brought to +bear upon her to win her consent? Was she going of her own free will +into this alliance, or had she been tricked or coerced? + +He recalled again the picture of her when she sat on her horse in the +glow of the summer sunshine. She was only a girl then--a heedless, +thoughtless, happy girl, who did not know what life meant, and who in +all probability had never given five minutes' serious thought to its +duties and responsibilities. But eight or nine weeks of suffering had +wrought a great change in her. She was a woman now, facing life +seriously and thoughtfully. Did she regret, he wondered, the promise she +had made? Was she still willing to be the wife of this old man? + +Ralph felt the blood tingling to his finger-tips. It was no business of +his. What did it matter to him what Sir John Hamblyn or any of his tribe +did, or neglected to do? If Dorothy Hamblyn chose to marry a Chinaman or +a Hindoo, that was no concern of his. He had no interest in her, and +never would have. + +He pulled himself up again at that point. He had no interest in her, it +was true, and yet he was interested--more interested than in any other +girl he had ever seen. So interested, in fact, that nothing could happen +to her without it affecting him. + +He reached the cottage at length at the far end of the village. It was +but a tiny crib, but it was the best they could get at so short a +notice, and they would not have got that if Sir John Hamblyn could have +had his way. + +Ralph could hardly repress a groan when he stepped over the threshold. +It was so painfully small after their roomy house at Hillside. The +whitewashers and paperhangers had just finished, and were gathering up +their tools, and a couple of charwomen were scouring the floors. + +A few minutes later there was a patter on the uncarpeted stairs, and +Ruth appeared, with red eyes and dishevelled hair. + +"There seems nothing that I can do," he said, without appearing to +notice that she had been crying. + +"Not to-day," she answered, looking past him; "but there will be plenty +for you to do to-morrow." + +Half an hour later they walked away together toward Hillside Farm, but +neither was in the mood for conversation. Ralph looked up the drive +towards Hamblyn Manor as they passed the park gates, but no one was +about, and the name of Hamblyn was not mentioned. + +During the rest of the day all the Penlogans were kept busy getting +things ready for the carts on the morrow. To any bystander it would have +been a pathetic sight to see how each one tried to keep his or her +trouble from the rest, and even to wear a cheerful countenance. + +Neither talked of the past, nor uttered any word of regret, but they +planned where this piece of furniture should be placed in the new house, +and where that, and speculated as to how the wardrobe should be got up +the narrow stairs, and in which room the big chest of drawers should be +placed. + +David seemed the least interested of the family. He sat for the most +part like one dazed, and watched the others in a vague, unseeing way. +Ruth and her mother bustled about the house, pretending to do a dozen +things, and talked all the while about the fittings and curtains and +pictures. + +When evening came on, and there was no longer any room for pretence, +they sat together in the parlour before a fire of logs, for the air was +chilly, and the wind had risen considerably. No one attempted to break +the silence, but each one knew what the others were thinking about. The +wind rumbled in the chimney and whispered through the chinks of the +window, but no one heeded it. + +This was to be their last evening together in the old home, which they +had learned to love so much, and the pathos of the situation was too +deep for words. They were silent, and apparently calm, not because they +were resigned, but because they were helpless. They had schooled +themselves not to resignation, but to endurance. They could be silent, +but they could never approve. The loathing they felt for John Hamblyn +grew hour by hour. They could have seen him gibbeted with a sense of +infinite satisfaction. + +The day faded quickly in the west, and the firelight alone illumined the +room. Ralph, from his corner by the chimney-breast, could see the faces +of all the others. Ruth looked sweeter and almost prettier than he had +ever seen her. The chastening hand of sorrow had softened the look in +her dark-brown eyes and touched with melancholy the curves of her rich, +full lips. His mother had aged rapidly. She looked ten years older than +she did ten weeks ago. Trouble had ploughed its furrows deep, and all +the light of hope had gone out of her eyes. But his father was the most +pathetic figure of all. Ralph looked across at him every now and then, +and wondered if he would ever rouse himself again. He looked so worn, so +feeble, so despairing, it would have been a relief to see him get angry. + +Ruth had got up at length and lighted the lamp and drew the blind; then, +without a word, sat down again. The wind continued to rumble in the +chimney and sough in the trees outside; but, save for that, no sound +broke the silence. There were no sheep in the pens, no cows in the +shippen, no horses in the stable, and no neighbour came in to say +good-bye. + +The evening wore away until it grew late. Then David rose and got the +family Bible and laid it on the table, so that the light of the lamp +fell upon its pages. + +Drawing up his chair, he sat down and began to read-- + +"'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.'" + +His voice did not falter in the least. Quietly, and without emphasis, he +read the psalm through to the end; then he knelt on the floor, with his +hands on the chair, the others following his example. His prayer was +very simple that night. He made no direct allusion to the great trouble +that was eating at all their hearts. He gave thanks for the mercies of +the day, and asked for strength to meet the future. + +"Now, my dears," he said, as he rose from his knees, "we had better get +off to bed." And he smiled with great sweetness, and Ruth recalled +afterwards how he kissed her several times. + +But if he had any premonition of what was coming, he did not betray it +by a single word. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +RALPH SPEAKS HIS MIND + + +It was toward the dawn when Ralph was roused out of a deep sleep by a +violent knocking at his bedroom door. + +"Yes," he called, springing up in bed and staring into the +semi-darkness. + +"Come quickly; your father is very ill!" It was his mother who spoke, +and her voice was vibrant and anxious. + +He sprang out of bed at once, and hurriedly got into his clothes. In a +few moments he was by his father's bedside. + +At first he thought that his mother had alarmed herself and him +unnecessarily. David lay on his side as if asleep. + +"I cannot rouse him," she said in gasps. "I've tried every way, but he +doesn't move." + +Ralph laid his hand on his father's shoulder and shook him, but there +was no response of any kind. + +"He must be dead," his mother said. + +"No, no. He breathes quite regularly," Ralph answered, and he took the +candle and held it where the light fell full on his father's eyelids. +For a moment there was a slight tremor, then his eyes slowly opened, and +a look of infinite appeal seemed to dart out of them. + +"He has had a stroke," Ralph answered, starting back. "He is paralysed. +Call Ruth, and I will go for the doctor at once." + +Twenty-four hours later David was sufficiently recovered to scrawl on a +piece of paper with a black lead pencil the words-- + +"I shall die at home. Praise the Lord!" + +He watched intently the faces of his wife and children as they read the +words, and a smile played over his own. It seemed to be a smile of +triumph. He was not going to live in the cottage after all. He was going +to end his days where he had always hoped to do, and no one could cheat +him out of that victory. + +Ralph sat down by the bedside and took his father's hand. The affection +between the two was very tender. They had been more than father and son, +they had been friends and comrades. Ruth and her mother ran out of the +room to hide their tears. They did not want to distress the dying man by +obtruding their grief. + +For several minutes Ralph was unable to speak. David never took his eyes +from his face. He seemed waiting for some assurance that his message was +understood. + +"We understand, father," Ralph said at length. "No one can turn you out +now." + +David smiled again. Then the tears filled his eyes and rolled down his +cheeks. + +"You always wanted to end your days here," Ralph went on, "and it looks +as if you were going to do it." + +David raised the hand that was not paralysed and pointed upward. + +"There are no leasehold systems there, at any rate," Ralph said, with a +gulp. "The earth is the landlord's, but heaven is God's." + +David smiled again, and then closed his eyes. Three hours later a second +stroke supervened, and stilled his heart for ever. + +Ralph walked slowly out of the room and into the open air. He felt +thankful for many reasons that his father was at rest. And yet, in his +heart the feeling grew that John Hamblyn had killed him, and there +surged up within him an intense and burning passion to make John Hamblyn +suffer something of what he himself was suffering. Why should he go scot +free? Why should he live unrebuked, and his conscience be left +undisturbed? + +For a moment or two Ralph stood in the garden and looked up at the +clouds that were scudding swiftly across the sky. Then he flung open the +gate and struck out across the fields. The wind battered and buffeted +him and almost took his breath away, but it did not weaken his resolve +for a moment. He would go and tell John Hamblyn what he had done--tell +him to his face that he had killed his father; ay, and tell him that as +surely as there was justice in the world he would not go unpunished. + +Over the brow of the hill he turned, and down into Dingley Bottom, and +then up the long slant toward Treliskey Plantation. He scarcely heeded +the wind that was blowing half a gale, and appeared to be increasing in +violence every minute. + +The gate that Dorothy's horse had broken had been mended long since, and +the notice board repainted: + +"Trespassers will be Prosecuted." + +He gritted his teeth unconsciously as the white letters stared him in +the face. He had heard his father tell that from time immemorial here +had been a public thoroughfare, till Sir John took the law into his own +hands, and flung a gate across it and warned the public off with a +threat of prosecution. + +But what cared he about the threat? John Hamblyn could prosecute him if +he liked. He was going to tell him what he thought of him, and he was +going the nearest way. + +He vaulted lightly over the gate, and hurried along without a pause. In +the shadow of the trees he scarcely felt the violence of the wind, but +he heard it roaring in the branches above him, like the sound of an +incoming tide. + +He reached the manor, and pulled violently at the door bell. + +"Is your master at home?" he said to the boy in buttons who opened the +door. + +"Yes----" + +"Then tell him I want to see him at once," he went on hurriedly, and he +followed the boy into the hall. + +A moment later he was standing before Sir John in his library. + +The baronet looked at him with a scowl. He disliked him intensely, and +had never forgiven him for being the cause--as he believed--of his +daughter's accident. Moreover, he had no proper respect for his betters, +and withal possessed a biting tongue. + +"Well, young man, what brought you here?" he said scornfully. + +"I came on foot," was the reply, and Ralph threw as much scorn into his +voice as the squire had done. + +"Oh, no doubt--no doubt!" the squire said, bridling. "But I have no time +to waste in listening to impertinences. What is your business?" + +"I came to tell you that my father is dead." + +"Dead!" Sir John gasped. "No, surely? I never heard he was ill!" + +"He was taken with a stroke early yesterday morning, and he died an hour +ago." + +"Only an hour ago? Dear me!" + +"I came straight away from his deathbed to let you know that you had +killed him." + +"That I had killed him!" Sir John exclaimed, with a gasp. + +"You might have seen it in his face, when you told him that you had let +the farm over his head, and that he was to be turned out of the little +home he had built with his own hands." + +"I gave him fair notice, more than he could legally claim," Sir John +said, looking very white and distressed. + +"I am not talking about the law," Ralph said hurriedly. "If you had +behaved like a Christian, my father would have been alive to-day. But +the blow you struck him killed him. He never smiled again till this +morning, when he knew he was dying. I am glad he is gone. But as surely +as you punished us, God will punish you." + +"What, threatening, young man?" Sir John replied, stepping back and +clenching his fists. + +"No, I am not threatening," Ralph said quietly. "But as surely as you +stand there, and I stand here, some day we shall be quits," and he +turned on his heel and walked out of the room. + +Outside the wind was roaring like an angry lion and snapping tree +branches like matchwood. A little distance from the house he met a +gardener, who told him there was no road through the plantation. But +Ralph only smiled at him and walked on. + +He was feeling considerably calmer since his interview with Sir John. It +had been a relief to him to fling off what was on his mind. He was +conscious that his heart was less bitter and revengeful. He only thought +once of Dorothy, and he quickly dismissed her from his mind. He wished +that he could dismiss her so effectually that the thought of her would +never come back. It was something of a humiliation that constantly, and +in the most unexpected ways, her face came up before him, and her sweet, +winning eyes looked pleadingly and sometimes reproachfully into his. + +But he was master of himself to-day. At any rate he was so far master of +himself that no thought of the squire's "little maid" could soften his +heart toward the squire. He hurried back home at the same swinging pace +as he came. It was a house of mourning to which he journeyed, but his +mother and Ruth would need him. He was the only one now upon whom they +could lean, and he would have to play the man, and make the burden for +them as light as possible. + +He scarcely heeded the wind. His thoughts were too full of other things. +In the heart of the plantation the branches were still snapping as the +trees bent before the fury of the gale. He rather liked the sound. +Nature was in an angry mood, and it accorded well with his own temper. +It would have been out of place if the wind had slept on the day his +father died. + +He was hardly able to realise yet that his father was dead. It seemed +too big and too overwhelming a fact to be comprehended all at once. It +seemed impossible that that gentle presence had gone from him for ever. +He wondered why he did not weep. Surely no son ever loved a father more +than he did, and yet no tear had dimmed his eyes as yet, no sob had +gathered in his throat. + +Over his head the branch of a tree flew past that had been ripped by the +gale from its moorings. + +"Hallo," he said, with a smile. "This is getting serious," and he turned +into the middle of the road and hurried on again. + +A moment or two later a sudden blow on the head struck him to the earth. +For several seconds he lay perfectly still just where he fell. Then a +sharp spasm of pain caused him to sit up and stare about him with a +bewildered expression in his eyes. What had happened he did not know. He +raised his right hand to his head almost mechanically--for the seat of +the pain was there--then drew it slowly away and looked at it. It was +dyed red and dripping wet. + +He struggled to his feet after a few moments, and tried to walk. It was +largely an unconscious effort, for he did not know where he was, or +where he wanted to go to; and when he fell again and struck the hard +ground with his face, he was scarcely aware that he had fallen. + +In a few minutes he was on his feet again, but the world was dark by +this time. Something had come up before his eyes and shut out +everything. A noise was in his ears, but it was not the roaring of the +wind in the trees; he reeled and stumbled heavily with his head against +a bank of heather. Then the noise grew still, and the pain vanished, and +there was a sound in his ears like the ringing of St. Goram bells, which +grew fainter till oblivion wrapped him in its folds. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +UNCONSCIOUS SPEECH + + +Ralph had scarcely left the house when Dorothy sought her father in the +library. He was walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, and a +troubled expression in his eyes. He was much more distressed than he +liked to own even to himself. To be told to his face that he had caused +the death of one of his tenants would, under some circumstances, have +simply made him angry. But in the present case he felt, much more +acutely than was pleasant, that there was only too much reason for the +contention. + +That David Penlogan had loved his little homestead there was no doubt +whatever. He had poured into it not only the savings of a lifetime and +the ungrudging labour of a dozen years, but he had poured into it the +affection of a generous and confiding nature. There was something almost +sentimental in David's affection for his little farm, and to have to +leave it was a heavier blow than he was able to bear. That his +misfortune had killed him seemed not an unreasonable supposition. + +"But I am not responsible for that," Sir John said to himself angrily. +"I had no hand in killing off the 'lives.' That was a decree of +Providence." + +But in spite of his reasoning, he could not shake himself free from an +uneasy feeling that he was in some way responsible. + +Legally, no doubt, he had acted strictly within his rights. He had +exacted no more than in point of law was his due, but might there not be +a higher law than the laws of men? That was the question that troubled +him, and it troubled him for the first time in his life. + +He was a very loyal citizen. He had been taught to regard Acts of +Parliament as something almost as sacred as the Ark of the Covenant, and +the authority of the State as supreme in all matters of human conduct. +Now for the first time a doubt crept into his mind, and it made him feel +decidedly uncomfortable. Man-made laws might, after all, have little or +no moral force behind them. Selfish men might make laws just to protect +their own selfish interests. + +Legally, man's law backed him up in the position he had taken. But where +did God's law come in? He knew his Bible fairly well. He was a regular +church-goer, and followed the lessons Sunday by Sunday with great +diligence. And he felt, with a poignant sense of alarm, that Jesus +Christ would condemn what he had done. There was no glimmer of the +golden rule to be discerned in his conduct. He had not acted generously, +nor even neighbourly. He had extorted the uttermost farthing, not +because he had any moral claim to it, but because laws which men had +made gave him the right. + +He was so excited that his mind worked much more rapidly than was usual +with him. He recalled again Ralph Penlogan's words about God punishing +him and their being quits. He disliked that young man. He ought to have +kicked him out of the house before he had time to utter his insults. But +he had not done so, and somehow his words had stuck. He wished it was +the son who had died instead of the father. David Penlogan, in spite of +his opinions and politics, was a mild and harmless individual; he would +not hurt his greatest enemy if he had the chance. But he was not so sure +of the son. He had a bolder and a fiercer nature, and if he had the +chance he might take the law into his own hands. + +The door opened while these thoughts were passing through his mind, and +his daughter stood before him. He stopped suddenly in his walk, and his +hard face softened. + +"Oh, father, I've heard such a dreadful piece of news," she said, "that +I could not help coming to tell you!" + +"Dreadful news, Dorothy?" he questioned, in a tone of alarm. + +"Well, it seems dreadful to me," she went on. "You heard about the +Penlogans being turned out of house and home, of course?" + +"I heard that he had to leave his farm," he said shortly. + +"Well, the trouble has killed him--broken his heart, people say. He had +a stroke yesterday morning, and now he's dead." + +"Well, people must die some day," he said, with averted eyes. + +"Yes, that is true. But I think if I were in Lord St. Goram's place I +should feel very unhappy." + +"Why should Lord St. Goram feel unhappy?" + +"Well, because he profited by the poor man's misfortune." + +"What do you know about it?" he snapped almost angrily. + +"Only what Ralph Penlogan told me." + +"What, that young rascal who refused to open the gate for you?" + +"That was just as much my fault as his, and he has apologised very +handsomely since." + +"I am surprised, Dorothy, that you condescend to speak to such people," +he said severely. + +"I don't know why you should, father. He is well educated, and has been +brought up, as you know, quite respectably." + +"Educated beyond his station. It's a mistake, and will lead to trouble +in the long-run. But what did he say to you?" + +"I met him as he was walking into St. Goram, and he told me how they had +taken a little cottage, and were going to move into it next day--that +was yesterday. Then, of course, all the story came out, how the vicar's +son was the last 'life' on their little farm, and how, when he died, the +farm became the ground landlord's." + +"And what did he say about the ground landlord?" he questioned. + +"I don't remember his words very well, but he seemed most bitter, +because he had let the farm over their heads, without giving them a +chance of being tenants." + +"Well?" + +"I told him I thought it was a very cruel thing to do. Law is not +everything. David Penlogan had put all his savings into the farm, had +reclaimed the fields from the wilderness, and built the house with his +own money, and the lord of the manor had done nothing, and never spent a +penny-piece on it, and yet, because the chances of life had gone against +David, he comes in and takes possession--demands, like Shylock, his +pound of flesh, and actually turns the poor man out of house and home! I +told Ralph Penlogan that it was wicked--at least, if I did not tell him, +I felt it--and, I am sure, father, you must feel the same." + +Sir John laughed a short, hard laugh. + +"What is the use of the law, Dorothy," he said, "unless it is kept? It +is no use getting sentimental because somebody is hanged." + +"But surely, father, our duty to our neighbour is not to get all we can +out of him?" + +"I'm inclined to think that is the general practice, at any rate," he +said, with a laugh. + +She looked at him almost reproachfully for a moment, and then her eyes +fell. He was quick to see the look of pain that swept over her face, and +hastened to reassure her. + +"You shouldn't worry yourself, Dorothy, about these matters," he said, +in gentler tones. "You really shouldn't. You see, we can't help the +world being what it is. Some are rich and some are poor. Some are weak +and some are strong. Some have trouble all the way, and some have a good +time of it from first to last, and nobody's to blame, as far as I know. +If luck's fallen to our lot, we've all the more to be grateful for, +don't you see. But the world's too big for us to mend, and it's no use +trying. Now, run away, that's a good girl, and be happy as long as you +can." + +She drew herself up to her full height, and looked him steadily in the +eyes. She had grown taller during her illness, and there was now a look +upon her face such as he had never noticed before. + +"I do wish, father," she said slowly, "that you would give over treating +me as though I were a child, and had no mind of my own." + +"Tut, tut!" he said sharply. "What's the matter now?" + +"I mean what I say," she answered, in the same slow and measured +fashion. "I may have been a child up to the time of my illness, but I +have learned a lot since then. I feel like one who has awaked out of a +sleep. My illness has given me time to think. I have got into a new +world." + +"Then, my love, get back into the old world again as quickly as +possible. It's not a bit of use your worrying your little head about +matters you cannot help, and which are past mending. It's your business +to enjoy yourself, and do as you are told, and get all the happiness out +of life that you can." + +"There's no getting back, father," she answered seriously. "And there's +no use in pretending that you don't feel, and that you don't see. I +shall never be a little girl again, and perhaps I shall never be happy +again as I used to be; or, perhaps, I may be happy in a better and +larger way--but that is not the point. You must not treat me as a child +any longer, for I am a woman now." + +"Oh, nonsense!" he said, in a tone of irritation. + +"Why nonsense?" she asked quickly. "If I am old enough to be married, I +am old enough to be a woman----" + +"Oh, I am not speaking of age," he interjected, in the same irritable +tone. "Of course you are old enough to be married, but you are not old +enough--and I hope you never will be--to worry yourself over other +people's affairs. I want my little flower to be screened from all the +rough winds of the world, and I am sure that is the desire of Lord +Probus." + +"There you go again!" she said, with a sad little smile. "I'm only just +a hothouse plant, to be kept under glass. But that is what I don't want. +I don't want to be treated as though I should crumple up if I were +touched--I want to do my part in the world." + +"Of course, my child, and your part is to look pretty and keep the +frowns away from your forehead, and make other folks happy by being +happy yourself." + +"But really, father, I'm not a doll," she said, with just a touch of +impatience in her voice. "I'm afraid I shall disappoint you, but I +cannot help it. I've lived in dreamland all my life. Now I am awake, and +nothing can ever be exactly the same again as it has been." + +"What do you mean by that, Dorothy?" + +"Oh, I mean more than I can put into words," she said, dropping her eyes +slowly to the floor. "Everything is broken up, if you understand. The +old house is pulled down. The old plans and the old dreams are at an +end. What is going to take their place I don't know. Time alone will +tell." And she turned slowly round and walked out of the room. + +An hour later she got into her bath-chair, and went out for her usual +airing. + +"I think, Billy," she said to her attendant, "we will drive through the +plantation this afternoon. The downs will be too exposed to this wind." + +"Yes, miss." + +"In the plantation it will be quite sheltered--don't you think so?" + +"Most of the way it will," he answered; "but there ain't half as much +wind as there was an hour ago." + +"An hour ago it was blowing a gale. If it had kept on like that I +shouldn't have thought of going out at all." + +"Which would have been a pity," Billy answered, with a grin, "for the +sun is a-shinin' beautiful." + +Two or three times Billy had to stop the donkey, while he dragged large +branches out of the way. They were almost on the point of turning back +again when Dorothy said-- + +"Is that the trunk of a tree, Billy, lying across the road?" + +"Well, miss, I was just a-wonderin' myself what it were. It don't look +like a tree exactly." + +"And yet I cannot imagine what else it can be." + +"Shall we drive on that far and see, miss?" + +"I think we had better, Billy, though I did not intend going quite so +far." + +A few minutes later Billy uttered an exclamation. + +"Why, miss, it looks for all the world like a man!" + +"Drive quickly," she said; "I believe somebody's been hurt!" + +It did not take them long to reach the spot where Ralph Penlogan was +lying. Dorothy recognised him in a moment, and forgetting her weakness, +she sprang out of her bath-chair and ran and knelt down by his side. + +He presented a rather ghastly appearance. The extreme pallor of his face +was accentuated by large splotches of blood. His eyelids were partly +open, showing the whites of his eyes. His lips were tightly shut as if +in pain. + +Dorothy wondered at her own calmness and nerve. She had no disposition +to faint or to cry out. She placed her ear close to Ralph's mouth and +remained still for several seconds. Then she sprang quickly to her feet. + +"Unharness the donkey, Billy," she said, in quick, decided tones, "and +ride into St. Goram and fetch Dr. Barrow!" + +"Yes, miss." And in a few seconds Billy was galloping away as fast as +the donkey could carry him. + +Dorothy watched him until he had passed beyond the gate and was out on +the common. Then she turned her attention again to Ralph. That he was +unconscious was clear, but he was not dead. There were evidences also +that he had scrambled a considerable distance after he was struck. + +For several moments she stood and looked at him, then she sat down by +his side. He gave a groan at length and tried to sit up, and she got +closer to him, and made his head comfortable on her lap. + +After a while he opened his eyes and looked with a bewildered expression +into her face. + +"Who are you?" he asked abruptly, and he made another effort to sit up. + +"You had better lie still," she said gently. "You have got hurt, and Dr. +Barrow will be here directly." + +"I haven't got hurt," he said, in decided tones, "and I don't want to +lie still. But who are you?" + +"Don't you remember me?" she questioned. + +"No, I don't," he said, in the same decisive way. "You are not Ruth, and +I don't know who you are, nor why you keep me here." + +"I am not keeping you," she answered quietly. "You are unable to walk, +but I have sent for the doctor, and he will bring help." + +For a while he did not speak, but his eyes searched her face with a +puzzled and baffled look. + +"You are very pretty," he said at length. "But you are not Ruth." + +"No; I am Dorothy Hamblyn," she answered. + +He knitted his brows and looked at her intently, then he tried to shake +his head. + +"Hamblyn?" he questioned slowly. "I hate the Hamblyns--I hate the very +name! All except the squire's little maid," and he closed his eyes, and +was silent for several moments. Then he went on again-- + +"I wish I could hate the squire's little maid too, but I can't. I've +tried hard, but I can't. She's so pretty, and she's to marry an old man, +old enough to be her grandfather. Oh, it's a shame, for he'll break her +heart. If I were only a rich man I'd steal her." + +"Hush, hush!" she said quickly. "Do you know what you are saying?" + +He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her again, but there was no +clear light of recognition in them. For several minutes he talked +incessantly on all sorts of subjects, but in the end he got back to the +question that for the moment seemed to dominate all the rest. + +"You can't be the squire's little maid," he said, "for she is going to +marry an old man. Don't you think it is a sin?" + +"Hush, hush!" she said, in a whisper. + +"I think it's a sin," he went on. "And if I were rich and strong I +wouldn't allow it. I wish she were poor, and lived in a cottage; then I +would work and work, and wait and hope, and--and----" + +"Yes?" she questioned. + +"We would fight the world together," he said, after a long pause. + +She did not reply, but a mist came up before her eyes and blotted out +the surrounding belt of trees, and the noise of the wind seemed to die +suddenly away into silence, and a new world opened up before her--a land +where springtime always dwelt, and beauty never grew old. + +Ralph lay quite still, with his head upon her lap. He appeared to have +relapsed into unconsciousness again. + +She brushed her hand across her eyes at length and looked at him, and as +she did so her heart fluttered strangely and uncomfortably in her bosom. +A curious spell seemed to be upon her. Her nerves thrilled with an +altogether new sensation. She grew almost frightened, and yet she had no +desire to break the spell; the pleasure infinitely exceeded the pain. + +She felt like one who had strayed unconsciously into forbidden ground, +and yet the landscape was so beautiful, and the fragrance of the flowers +was so sweet, and the air was so soft and cool, and the music of the +birds and the streams was so delicious, that she had neither the courage +nor the inclination to go away. + +She did not try to analyse this new sensation that thrilled her to the +finger-tips. She did not know what it meant, or what it portended. + +She took her pocket-handkerchief at length and began to wipe the +bloodstains from Ralph's face, and while she did so the warm colour +mounted to her own cheeks. + +There was no denying that he was very handsome, and she had already had +proof of his character. She recalled the day when she lay in his strong +arms, with her head upon his shoulder, and he carried her all the way +down to the cross roads. How strange that she should be performing a +similar service for him now! Was some blind, unthinking fate weaving the +threads of their separate lives into the same piece? + +The colour deepened in her cheeks until they grew almost crimson. The +words to which she had just listened from his lips seemed to flash upon +her consciousness with a new meaning, and she found herself wondering +what would happen if she had been only a peasant's child. + +A minute or two later the sound of wheels was heard on the grass-grown +road. Ralph turned his head uneasily, and muttered something under his +breath. + +"Help is near," she whispered. "The doctor is coming." + +He looked up into her eyes wonderingly. + +"Don't tell the squire's little maid that I love her," he said slowly. +"I've tried to hate her, but I cannot." + +She gave a little gasp, and tried to speak, but a lump rose in her +throat which threatened to choke her. + +"But her father," he went on slowly, "he's a--a----" but he did not +finish the sentence. + +When the doctor reached his side he was quite unconscious again. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DOROTHY SPEAKS HER MIND + + +Dorothy--to quote her father's words--had taken the bit between her +teeth and bolted. The squire had coaxed her, cajoled her, threatened +her, got angry with her, but all to no purpose. She stood before him +resolute and defiant, vowing that she would sooner die than marry Lord +Probus. + +Sir John was at his wits' end. He saw his brightest hopes dissolving +before his eyes. If Dorothy carried out her threat, and refused to marry +the millionaire brewer, what was to become of him? All his hopes of +extricating himself from his present pecuniary embarrassments were +centred in his lordship. But if Dorothy deliberately broke the +engagement, Lord Probus would see him starve before raising a finger to +help him. + +Fortunately, Lord Probus was in London, and knew nothing of Dorothy's +change of front. He had thought her somewhat cool when he went away, but +that he attributed to her long illness. Warmth of affection would no +doubt return with returning health and strength. Sir John had assured +him that she had not changed towards him in the least. + +Dorothy's illness had been a great disappointment to both men. All +delays were dangerous, and there was always the off-chance that Dorothy +might awake from her girlish day-dream and discover that not only her +feeling toward Lord Probus, but also her views of matrimony, had +undergone an entire change. + +Sir John had received warning of the change on that stormy day when +Ralph Penlogan had visited him to tell him that his father was dead. But +he had put her words out of his mind as quickly as possible. Whatever +else they might mean, he could not bring himself to believe that Dorothy +would deliberately break a sacred and solemn pledge. + +But a few weeks later matters came to a head. It was on Dorothy's return +from a visit to the Penlogans' cottage at St. Goram that the truth came +out. + +Sir John met her crossing the hall with a basket on her arm. + +"Where have you been all the afternoon?" he questioned sharply. + +"I have been to see poor Mrs. Penlogan," she said, "who is anything but +well." + +"It seems to me you are very fond of visiting the Penlogans," he said +crossly. "I suppose that lazy son is still hanging on to his mother, +doing nothing?" + +"I don't think you ought to say he is lazy," she said, flushing +slightly. "He has been to St. Ivel Mine to-day to try to get work, +though Dr. Barrow says he ought not to think of working for another +month." + +"Dr. Barrow is an old woman in some things," he retorted. + +"I think he is a very clever man," she answered; "and we ought to be +grateful for what he did for me." + +"Oh, that is quite another matter. But I suppose you found the Penlogans +full of abuse still of the ground landlord?" + +"No, I did not," she answered. "Lord St. Goram's name was never +mentioned." + +"Oh!" he said shortly, and turned on his heel and walked away. + +"She evidently doesn't know yet that I'm the ground landlord," he +reflected. "I wonder what she will say when she does know? I've half a +mind to tell her myself and face it out. If I thought it would prevent +her going to the Penlogans' cottage, I would tell her, too. Curse them! +They've scored off me by not telling the girl." And he closed the +library door behind him and dropped into an easy-chair. + +He came to the conclusion after a while that he would not tell her. All +things considered, it was better that she should remain in ignorance. In +a few weeks, or months at the outside, he hoped she would be Lady +Probus, and then she would forget all about the Penlogans and their +grievance. + +He took the poker and thrust it into the fire, and sent a cheerful blaze +roaring up the chimney. Then he edged himself back into his easy-chair +and stared at the grate. + +"It's quite time the wedding-day was fixed," he said to himself at +length. "Dorothy is almost as well as ever, and there's no reason +whatever why it should be any longer delayed. I hope she isn't beginning +to think too seriously about the matter. In a case like this, the less +the girl thinks the better." + +The short November day was fading rapidly, but the fire filled the room +with a warm and ruddy light. + +He touched the bell at length, and a moment or two later a servant stood +at the open door. + +"Tell your young mistress when she comes downstairs that I want to see +her." + +"Yes, sir." And the servant departed noiselessly from the room. + +Sir John edged his chair a few inches nearer the fire. He was feeling +very nervous and ill at ease, but he was determined to bring matters to +a head. He knew that Lord Probus was getting impatient, and he was just +as impatient himself. Moreover, delays were often fatal to the best-laid +plans. + +Dorothy came slowly into the room, and with a troubled look in her eyes. + +"You wanted to see me, father?" she questioned timidly. + +"Yes, I wanted to have a little talk with you. Please sit down." And he +continued to stare at the fire. + +Dorothy seated herself in an easy-chair on the other side of the +fireplace and waited. If he was nervous and ill at ease, she was no less +so. She had a shrewd suspicion of what was coming, and she dreaded the +encounter. Nevertheless, she had fully made up her mind as to the course +she intended to take, and she was no longer a child to be wheedled into +anything. + +Sir John looked up suddenly. + +"I have been thinking, Dorothy," he said, "that we ought to get the +wedding over before Christmas. You seem almost as well as ever now, and +there is no reason as far as I can see why the postponed ceremony should +be any longer delayed." + +"Are you in such a great hurry to get rid of me?" she questioned, with a +pathetic smile. + +"My dear, I do not want to get rid of you at all. You know the old tag, +'A daughter's a daughter all the days of her life,' and you will be none +the less my child when you are the mistress of Rostrevor Castle." + +"I shall never be the mistress of Rostrevor Castle," she replied, with +downcast eyes. + +"Never be the mistress of--never? What do you mean, Dorothy?" And he +turned hastily round in his chair and stared at her. + +"I was only a child when I promised," she said timidly, "and I did not +know anything. I thought it would be a fine thing to have a title and a +house in town, and everything that my foolish heart could desire, and I +did not understand what marriage to an old man would mean." + +"Lord Probus is anything but an old man," he said hastily. "He is in his +prime yet." + +"But if he were thirty years younger it would be all the same," she +answered quietly. "You see, father, I have discovered that I do not love +him." + +"And you fancy that you love somebody else?" he said, with a sneer. + +"I did not say anything of the kind," she said, raising her eyes +suddenly to his. "But I know I don't love Lord Probus, and I know I +never shall." + +"Oh, this is simple nonsense!" he replied angrily. "You cannot play fast +and loose in this way. You have given your solemn promise to Lord +Probus, and you cannot go back on it." + +"But I _can_ go back on it, and I will!" + +"You mean that you will defy us both, and defy the law into the +bargain?" + +"There is no law to compel me to marry a man against my will," she said, +with spirit. + +"If there is no law to compel you, there's a power that can force you to +keep your promise," he said, with suppressed passion. + +"What power do you refer to?" she questioned. + +"The power of my will," he answered. "Do you think I am going to allow a +scandal of this kind to take place?" + +"It would be a greater scandal if I married him," she replied. + +"Look here, Dorothy," he said. "We had better look at this matter in the +light of reason and common sense----" + +"That is what I am doing," she interrupted. "I had neither when I gave +my promise to Lord Probus. I was just home from school; I knew nothing +of the world; I had scarcely a serious thought in my head. My illness +has given me time to think and reflect; it has opened my eyes----" + +"And taken away your moral sense," he snarled. + +"No, father, I don't think so at all," she answered mildly. "Feeling as +I do now, it would be wicked to marry Lord Probus." + +He rose to his feet and faced her angrily. + +"Look here, Dorothy," he said. "I am not the man to be thwarted in a +thing of this kind. My reputation is in a sense at stake. You have gone +too far to draw back now. We should be made the laughing-stock of the +entire county. If you had any personal objection to Lord Probus, you +should have discovered it before you promised to marry him. Now that all +arrangements are made for the wedding, it is too late to draw back." + +"No, father, it is not too late; and I am thankful for my illness, +because it has opened my eyes." + +"And all this has come about through that detestable young scoundrel who +refused to open a gate for you." + +In a moment her face flushed crimson, and she turned quickly and walked +out of the room. + +"By Jove, what does this mean?" Sir John said to himself angrily when +the door closed behind her. "What new influences have been at work, I +wonder, or what quixotic or romantic notions has she been getting into +her head? Can it be possible--but no, no, that is too absurd! And yet +things quite as strange have happened. If I find--great Scott, won't we +be quits!" And Sir John paced up and down the room like a caged bear. + +He did not refer to the subject again that day, nor the next. But he +kept his eyes and ears open, and he drew one or two more or less +disquieting conclusions. + +That a change had come over Dorothy was clear. In fact, she was changed +in many ways. She seemed to have passed suddenly from girlhood into +womanhood. But what lay at the back of this change? Was her illness to +bear the entire responsibility, or had other influences been at work? +Was the romantic notion she had got into her mind due to natural +development, or had some youthful face caught her fancy and touched her +heart? + +But during all those long weeks of her illness she had seen no one but +the doctor and vicar and Lord Probus, except--and Sir John gave his +beard an impatient tug. + +By dint of careful inquiry, he got hold of the entire story, not merely +of Dorothy's accident, but of the part she had played in Ralph +Penlogan's accident. + +"Great Scott!" he said to himself, an angry light coming into his eyes. +"If, knowingly or unknowingly, that young scoundrel is at the bottom of +this business, then he can cry quits with a vengeance." + +The more he allowed his mind to dwell on this view of the case, the more +clear it became to him. There was no denying that Ralph Penlogan was +handsome. Moreover, he was well educated and clever. Dorothy, on the +other hand, was in the most romantic period of her life. She had found +him in the plantation badly hurt, and her sympathies would go out to him +in a moment. Under such circumstances, and in her present mood, social +differences would count for nothing. She might lose her heart to him +before she was aware. He, of course, being inherently bad--for Sir John +would not allow that the lower orders, as he termed them, possessed any +sense of honour whatever--would take advantage of her weakness and play +upon the romantic side of her nature to the full, with the result that +she was quite prepared to fling over Lord Probus, or to pose as a +martyr, or to pine for love in a cottage, or do any other idiotic thing +that her silly and sentimental heart might dictate. + +As the days passed away Sir John had very great difficulty in being +civil to his daughter. Also, he kept a strict watch himself on all her +movements, and put a stop to her playing my Lady Bountiful among the +sick poor of St. Goram. + +He hoped in his quieter moments that it was only a passing madness, and +that it would disappear as suddenly as it came. If she could be kept +away from pernicious and disquieting influences for a week or two she +might get back to her normal condition. + +Sir John was debating this view of the question one evening with himself +when the door was flung suddenly open, and Lord Probus stood before him, +looking very perturbed and excited. + +The baronet sprang out of his chair in a moment, and greeted his guest +effusively. "My dear Probus," he said, "I did not know you were in the +county. When did you return?" + +"I came down to-day," was the answer. "I came in response to a letter I +received from your daughter last night. Where is she? I wish to see her +at once." + +"A moment, sir," the baronet said appealingly. "What has she been +writing to you?" + +"I hardly know whether I should discuss the matter with you until I have +seen her," was the somewhat chilly answer. + +"She has asked to be released from her engagement," Sir John said +eagerly. "I can see it in your face. The truth is, the child is a bit +unhinged." + +"Then she has spoken to you?" his lordship interrupted. + +"Well, yes, but I came to the conclusion that it was only a passing +mood. She has not picked up her strength as rapidly as I could have +desired, but, given time, and I have little doubt she will be just the +same as ever. I am sorry she has written to you on the matter." + +"I noticed a change in her before I went away. In fact, she was +decidedly cool." + +"But it will pass, my lord. I am sure it will. We must not hurry her. +Don't take her 'No' as final. Let the matter remain in abeyance for a +month or two. Now I will ring for her and leave you together. But take +my advice and don't let her settle the matter now." + +Sir John met Dorothy in the hall, and intimated that Lord Probus was +waiting for her in the library. She betrayed no surprise whatever. In +fact, she expected he would hurry back on receipt of her letter, and so +was quite ready for the interview. + +They did not remain long together. Lord Probus saw that, for the present +at any rate, her mind was absolutely made up. But he was not prepared, +nevertheless, to relinquish his prize. + +She looked lovelier in his eyes than she had ever done before. He felt +the charm of her budding womanhood. She was no longer a schoolgirl to be +wheedled and influenced by the promise of pretty things. Her eyes had a +new light in them, her manner an added dignity. + +"Be assured," he said to her, in his most chivalrous manner, "that your +happiness is more to me than my own. But we will not regard the matter +as settled yet. Let things remain in abeyance for a month or two." + +"It is better we should understand each other once for all," she said +decisively, "for I am quite sure time will only confirm me in my +resolution." + +"No, no. Don't say that," he pleaded. "Think of all I can give you, of +all that I will do for you, of all the love and care I will lavish upon +you. You owe it to me not to do this thing rashly. Let us wait, say, +till the new year, and then we will talk the matter over again." And he +took her hand and kissed it, and then walked slowly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +GATHERING CLOUDS + + +The following afternoon Sir John went for a walk in the plantation +alone. He was in a very perturbed and anxious condition of mind. Lord +Probus had taken his advice, and refused to accept Dorothy's "No" as +final; but that by no means settled the matter. He feared that at best +it had only postponed the evil day for a few weeks. What if she +continued in the same frame of mind? What if she had conceived any kind +of romantic attachment for young Penlogan, into whose arms she had been +thrown more than once? + +Of course, Dorothy would never dream of any alliance with a Penlogan. +She was too well bred for that, and had too much regard for the social +order. But all the same, such an attachment would put an end to Lord +Probus's hopes. She would be eternally contrasting the two men, and she +would elect to remain a spinster until time had cured her of her +love-sickness. In the meanwhile he would be upon the rocks financially, +or in some position even worse than that. + +"It is most annoying," he said to himself, with knitted brows and +clenched hands, "most confoundedly annoying, and all because of that +young scoundrel Penlogan. If I could only wring his neck or get him +clear out of the district it would be some satisfaction." + +The next moment the sound of snapping twigs fell distinctly on his ear. +He turned suddenly and caught a momentary glimpse of a white face +peering over a hedge. + +"By Heaven, it's that scoundrel Penlogan!" was the thought that darted +suddenly through his mind. The next moment there was a flash, a report, +a stinging pain in his left arm and cheek, and then a moment of utter +mental confusion. + +He recovered himself in a moment or two and took to his heels. He had +been shot, he knew, but with what effect he could not tell. His left arm +hung limply by his side and felt like a burning coal. His cheek was +smarting intolerably, but the extent of the damage he had no means of +ascertaining. He might be fatally hurt for all he knew. Any moment he +might fall dead in the road, and the young villain who had shot him +might go unpunished. + +"I must prevent that if possible," he said to himself, as he kept +running at the top of his speed. "I must hold out till I get home. Oh, I +do hope my strength will not fail me! It's a terrible thing to be done +to death in this way." + +The perspiration was running in streams down his face. His breath came +and went in gasps, but he never slackened his pace for a moment; and +still as he ran the conviction grew and deepened in his mind that a +deliberate attempt had been made to murder him. + +He came within sight of the house at length, and began to shout at the +top of his voice-- + +"Help! help! Murder! Be quick----" + +The coachman and the stable boy, who happened to be discussing politics +in the yard at the moment, took to their heels and both ran in the same +direction. They came upon their master, hatless and exhausted, and were +just in time to catch him in their arms before he sank to the ground. + +"Oh, I've been murdered!" he gasped. "Think of it, murdered in my own +plantation! Carry me home, and then go for the doctor and the police. +That young Penlogan shall swing for this." + +"But you can't be murdered, master," the coachman said soothingly, "for +you're alive and able to talk." + +"But I'm nearly done for," he groaned. "I feel my life ebbing away fast. +Get me home as quickly as you can. I hope I'll live till the policeman +comes." + +The two men locked hands, and made a kind of chair for their master, and +then marched away towards the house. + +Sir John talked incessantly all the distance. + +"If I die before I get home," he said, "don't forget what I am telling +you. Justice must be done in a case like this. Won't there be a +sensation in the county when people learn that I was deliberately +murdered in my own plantation!" + +"But why should Ralph Penlogan want to murder you?" the coachman +queried. + +"Why? Don't ask me. He came to the house the day his father died and +threatened me. I saw murder in his eyes then. I believe he would have +murdered me in my own library if he had had the chance. But make haste, +for my strength is ebbing out rapidly." + +"I don't think you are going to die yet, sir," the coachman said +cheerfully. + +"Oh, I don't know! I feel very strange. I keep praying that I may live +to get home and give evidence before the proper authorities. It seems +very strange that I should come to my end this way." + +"But you may recover, sir," the stable boy interposed. "There's never no +knowing what may happen in this world." + +"Please don't talk to me," he said petulantly. "You are wasting time +while you talk. I want to compose my mind. It's an awfully solemn thing +to be murdered, but he shall swing for it as sure as I'm living at this +moment! Don't you think you can hurry a little faster?" + +Sir John had considerably recovered by the time they reached the house, +and was able to walk upstairs and even to undress with assistance. + +While waiting for the doctor, Dorothy came and sat by his side. She was +very pale, but quite composed. Hers was one of those natures that seemed +to gather strength in proportion to the demands made upon it. She never +fainted or lost her wits or became hysterical. She met the need of the +moment with a courage that rarely failed her. + +"Ah, Dorothy," he said, in impressive tones, "I never thought I should +come to this, and at the hands of a dastardly assassin." + +"But are you sure it was not an accident, father?" she questioned +gently. + +"Accident?" he said, and his eyes blazed with anger. "Has it come to +this, that you would screen the man who has murdered your father?" + +"Let us not use such a word until we are compelled," she replied, in the +same gentle tones. "You may not be hurt as much as you fear." + +"Whether I am hurt much or little," he said, "the intention was there. +If I am not dead, the fault is not his." + +"But are you sure it was he who fired at you?" + +"As sure as I can be of anything in this world. Besides, who else would +do it? He threatened me the day his father died." + +"Threatened to murder you?" + +"Not in so many words, but he had murder in his eyes." + +"But why should he want to do you any harm? You never did any harm to +him." + +For a moment or two Sir John hesitated. Should he clench his argument by +supplying the motive? He would never have a better opportunity for +destroying at a single blow any romantic attachment that she may have +cherished. Destroy her faith in Ralph Penlogan--the handsome youth with +pleasant manners--and her heart might turn again to Lord Probus. + +But while he hesitated the door opened, and Dr. Barrow came hurriedly +into the room, followed by a nurse. + +Dorothy raised a pair of appealing eyes to the doctor's face, and then +stole sadly down to the drawing-room to await the verdict. + +As yet her faith in Ralph Penlogan remained unshaken. She had seen a +good deal of him during the last few weeks, and the more she had seen of +him the more she had admired him. His affection for his mother and +sister, his solicitude for their comfort and welfare, his anxiety to +take from their shoulders every burden, his impatience to get well so +that he might step into his dead father's place and be the bread-winner +of the family, had touched her heart irresistibly. She felt that a man +could not be bad who was so good to his mother and so kind and +chivalrous to his sister. + +Whether or no she had done wisely in going to the Penlogans' cottage was +a question she was not quite able to answer. Ostensibly she had gone to +see Mrs. Penlogan, who had not yet recovered from the shock caused by +her husband's death, and yet she was conscious of a very real sense of +disappointment if Ralph was not visible. + +That she should be interested in him was the most natural thing in the +world. They had been thrown together in no ordinary way. They had +succoured each other in times of very real peril--had each been the +other's good angel. Hence it would be folly to pretend the indifference +of absolute strangers. Socially, their lives lay wide as the poles +asunder, and yet there might be a very true kinship between them. The +only drawback to any sort of friendship was the confession she had +unwittingly listened to while he lay dazed and unconscious in the +plantation. + +How much it amounted to she did not know. Probably nothing. It was said +that people in delirium spoke the exact opposite of what they meant. +Ralph had reiterated that he hated her father. Probably he did nothing +of the kind. Why should he hate him? At any rate, since he began to get +better he had said nothing, as far as she was aware, that would convey +the remotest impression of such a feeling. His words respecting herself +probably had no more meaning or value, and she made an honest effort to +forget them. + +She had questioned him as to what he could remember after the branch of +the tree struck him. But he remembered nothing till the following day. +For twenty-four hours his mind was a complete blank, and he was quite +unsuspicious that he had spoken a single word to anyone. And yet, try as +she would, whenever she was in his presence, his words kept recurring to +her. There might be a worse tragedy in his life than that which had +already occurred. + +These thoughts kept chasing each other like lightning through her brain, +as she sat waiting for the verdict of the doctor. + +He came at length, and she rose at once to meet him. + +"Well, doctor?" she questioned. "Let me know the worst." + +She saw that there was a perplexed and even troubled look in his eyes, +and she feared that her father was more seriously hurt than she had +imagined. + +"There is no immediate danger," he said, taking her hands and leading +her back to her seat. They were great friends, and she trusted him +implicitly. + +She gave a little sigh of relief and waited for him to speak again. + +"The main volume of the charge just missed him," he went on, after a +pause. "Had he been an inch or two farther to the left, the chances are +he would never have spoken again." + +"But you think that he will get better?" + +"Well, yes. I see no cause for apprehension. His left shoulder and arm +are badly speckled, no doubt, but I don't think any vital part has been +touched." + +Dorothy sighed again, and for a moment or two there was silence. Then +she said, with evident effort-- + +"But what about--about--young Penlogan?" + +"Ah, that I fear is a more serious matter," he answered, with averted +eyes. "I sincerely trust that your father is mistaken." + +"You are not sure that he is?" + +"It seems as if one can be sure of nothing in this world," he answered +slowly and evasively, "and yet I could have trusted Ralph Penlogan with +my life." + +"Does father still persist that it was he?" + +"He is quite positive, and almost gets angry if one suggests that he may +have been mistaken." + +"Well, doctor, and what will all this lead to?" she questioned, making a +strong effort to keep her voice steady. + +"For the moment I fear it must lead to young Penlogan's arrest. There +seems no way of escaping that. Your father's depositions will be taken +as soon as Mr. Tregonning arrives. Then, of course, a warrant will be +issued, and most likely Penlogan will spend to-night in the +police-station--unless----" Then he paused suddenly and looked out of +the window. + +"Unless what, doctor?" + +"Well, unless he has tried to get away somewhere. It will be dark +directly, and under cover of darkness he might get a long distance." + +"But that would imply that he is guilty?" + +"Well--yes. I am assuming, of course, that he deliberately shot at your +father." + +"Which I am quite sure he did not do." + +"I have the same conviction myself, and yet he made no secret of the +fact that he hated your father." + +"But why should he hate my father?" + +"You surely know----" Then he hesitated. + +"I know nothing," she answered. "What is the ground of his dislike?" + +"Ah, here is Mr. Tregonning's carriage," he said, in a tone of relief. +"Now I must run away. Keep your heart up, and don't worry any more than +you can help." + +For several moments she walked up and down the room with a restless yet +undecided step. Then she made suddenly for the door, and three minutes +later she might have been seen hurrying along the drive in the swiftly +gathering darkness as fast as her feet could carry her. + +"I'll see him for myself," she said, with a resolute light in her eyes. +"I'll get the truth from his own lips. I'm sure he will not lie to me." + +It was quite dark when she reached the village, save for the twinkling +lights in cottage windows. + +She met a few people, but no one recognised her, enveloped as she was in +a heavy cloak. For a moment or two she paused before the door of the +Penlogans' cottage. Her heart was beating very fast, and she felt like a +bird of evil omen. If Ralph was innocent, then he knew nothing of the +trouble that was looming ahead, and she would be the petrel to announce +the coming storm. + +She gave a timid rat-tat at the door, and after a moment or two it was +opened by Ruth. + +"Why, Miss Dorothy!" And Ruth started back in surprise. + +"Is your brother at home?" Dorothy questioned, with a little gasp. + +"Why, yes. Won't you come in?" + +"Would you mind asking him to come to the door. I have only a moment or +two to spare." + +"You had better come into the passage," Ruth said, "and I will go at +once and tell him you are here." + +Dorothy stepped over the threshold and stood under the small lamp that +lighted the tiny hall. + +In a few moments Ralph stood before her, his cheeks flushed, and an +eager, questioning light in his eyes. + +She looked at him eagerly for a moment before she spoke, and could not +help thinking how handsome he looked. + +"I have come on a strange errand," she said, speaking rapidly, "and I +fear there is more trouble in store for you. But tell me first, have you +ever lifted a finger against my father?" + +"Never, Miss Dorothy! Why do you ask?" + +"And you have never planned, or purposed, or attempted to do him harm?" + +"Why, no, Miss Dorothy. Why should you think of such a thing?" + +"My father was shot this afternoon in Treliskey Plantation. He saw a +face for a moment peering over a hedge; the next moment there was a +flash and a report, and a part of the charge entered his left arm and +shoulder. He is in bed now, and Mr. Tregonning is taking his +depositions. He vows that it was your face that he saw peering over the +hedge--that it was you who shot him." + +Ralph's face grew ashen while she was speaking, and a look almost of +terror crept into his eyes. The difficulty and peril of his position +revealed themselves in a moment. How could he prove that Sir John +Hamblyn was mistaken? + +"But you do not believe it, Miss Dorothy?" he questioned. + +"You tell me that you are innocent?" she asked, almost in a whisper. + +"I am as innocent as you are," he said; and he looked frankly and +appealingly into her eyes. + +For a moment or two she looked at him in silence, then she said in the +same low tone-- + +"I believe you." And she held out her hand to him, and then turned +towards the door. + +He had a hundred things to say to her, but somehow the words would not +come. He watched her cross the threshold and pass out into the darkness, +and he stood still and had not the courage to follow her. It would have +been at least a neighbourly thing to see her to the lodge gates, for the +night was unillumined by even a star, but his lips refused to move. He +stood stock-still, as if riveted to the ground. + +How long he remained there staring into the darkness he did not know. +Time and place were swallowed up and lost. He was conscious only of the +steady approach of an overwhelming calamity. It was gathering from every +point of the compass at the same time. It was wrapping him round like a +sable pall. It was obliterating one by one every star of hope and +promise. + +Ruth came to look for him at length, and she uttered a little cry when +she saw him, for his face was like the face of the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE STORM BURSTS + + +"Why, Ralph, what is the matter?" And Ruth seized one of his hands and +stared eagerly and appealingly into his face. + +He shook himself as if he had been asleep, then closed the door quietly +and followed her into the living-room. + +"Are you not well, Ralph?" Ruth persisted, as she drew up his chair a +little nearer the fire. Mrs. Penlogan laid her knitting in her lap, and +her eyes echoed Ruth's inquiry. + +"I've heard some bad news," he said, speaking with an effort, and he +dropped into his chair and stared at the fire. + +"Bad news!" both women echoed. "What has happened, Ralph?" + +He hesitated for a moment, then he told them the story as Dorothy had +told it to him. + +"But why should you worry?" Ruth questioned quickly. "You were nowhere +near the plantation." + +"But how am I to prove it?" he questioned. + +"Have you been alone all the afternoon?" + +"Absolutely." + +"But you have surely seen someone?" + +"As bad luck would have it, I have not seen a soul." + +"But some people may have seen you." + +"That is likely enough. Twenty people in the village looking from behind +their curtains may have seen me walk out with a gun under my arm." + +"And it's the first time you've carried a gun since we left Hillside." + +"The very first time, and it looks as if it will be the last." + +"But surely, Ralph, no one would believe for a moment that you could do +such a thing?" his mother interposed. "It's been some awkward accident, +you may depend. It will all come out right in the morning." + +"I'm very sorry for you, mother," he said slowly. "You've had trouble +enough lately, God knows. We all have, for that matter. But it is of no +use shutting our eyes to the fact that this is a very awkward business, +and while we should hope for the best, we should prepare for the worst." + +"What worst do you refer to, Ralph?" she asked, a little querulously. +"You surely do not think----" + +"I hardly know what to think, mother," he interrupted, for it was quite +clear she did not realise yet the gravity of the situation. "It may mean +imprisonment and the loss of my good name, which would mean the loss of +everything and the end of the world for me." + +"Oh no; surely not," and the tears began to gather in her eyes. + +"The trouble lies here," he went on. "Everybody knows that I hate the +squire. We all do, for that matter, and for very good reasons. As it +happens, I have been out with a gun this afternoon, and have brought +home a couple of rabbits. I shot them in Dingley Bottom, but no one saw +me. Somebody trespassing in the plantation came upon the squire. He was +climbing over a hedge, and very likely in drawing back suddenly +something caught the trigger and the gun went off. Now unless that man +confesses, what is to become of me?" + +"But he will confess. Nobody would let you be wrongfully accused," she +interrupted. + +He shook his head dubiously. "Most people are so anxious to save their +own skin," he said, "that they do not trouble much about what becomes of +other people." + +"But if the worst should come to the worst, Ralph," Ruth questioned +timidly, "what would it mean?" + +"Transportation," he said gloomily. + +Mrs. Penlogan began to cry. It seemed almost as if God had forsaken +them, and her faith in Providence was in danger of going from her. She +and Ruth had been bewailing the hardness of their lot that afternoon +while Ralph was out with his gun. The few pounds saved from the general +wreck were nearly exhausted. When the funeral expenses had been paid, +and the removal accounts had been squared, there was very little left. +To make matters worse, Ralph's accident had to be added to their +calamities. He was only just beginning to get about again, and when the +doctor's bill came in they would be worse than penniless, they would be +in debt. + +And now suddenly, and without warning, this new trouble threatened them. +A trouble that was worse than poverty--worse even than death. Their good +name, they imagined, was unassailable, and if that went by the board, +everything would be lost. + +Ralph sat silent, and stared into the fire. In the main his thoughts +were very bitter, but one sweet reflection came and went in the most +unaccountable fashion. One pure and almost perfect face peeped at him +from between the bars of the grate and vanished, but always came back +again after a few minutes and smiled all the more sweetly, as if to +atone for its absence. + +Why had Dorothy Hamblyn taken the trouble to interview him? Why was she +so interested in his fate? How was it that she was so ready to accept +his word? To give any rational answer to these questions seemed +impossible. If she felt what he felt, the explanation would be simple +enough; but since by no exercise of his fancy or imagination could he +bring himself to that view of the case, her conduct--her apparent +solicitude--remained inexplicable. + +Nevertheless, the thought of Dorothy was the one sweet drop in his +bitter cup. The why and wherefore of her interest might remain a +mystery, yet the fact remained that of her own free will she had come to +see him that she might get the truth from his own lips, and without any +hesitation she had told him that she believed his word. Sir John might +hunt him down with all the venom of a sleuth hound, but he would always +have this crumb of consolation, that the Squire's daughter believed in +him still. + +He had given up trying to hate her. Nay, he accepted it as part of the +irony of fate that he should do the other thing. He could not understand +why destiny should be so relentlessly cruel to him, why every +circumstance and every combination of circumstances should unite to +crush him. But he had to accept life as he found it. The world seemed to +be ruled by might, not by justice. The strong worked their will upon the +weak. It was the fate of the feeble to go under; the helpless cried in +vain for deliverance, the poor were daily oppressed. + +He found his youthful optimism a steadily diminishing quantity. His +father's fate seemed to mock the idea of an over-ruling Providence. If +there was ever a good man in the parish, his father was that man. No +breath of slander had ever touched his name. Honest, industrious, +pure-minded, God-fearing, he lived and wrought with all his might, doing +to others as he would they should do to him. And yet he died of a broken +heart, defeated and routed in the unequal contest, victimised by the +uncertain chances of life, ground to powder by laws he did not make, and +had no chance of escaping. And in that hour of overwhelming disaster +there was no hand to deliver him save the kindly hand of death. + +"And what is there before me?" he asked himself bitterly. "What have I +to live for, or hope for? The very springs of my youth seem poisoned. My +love is a cruel mockery, my ambitions are frost-nipped in the bud." + +For the rest of the evening very little was said. Supper was a sadly +frugal meal, and they ate it in silence. Ruth and her mother could not +help wondering how long it would be ere they would have no food to eat. + +Ralph kept listening with keen apprehension for the sound of a measured +footstep outside the door. At any moment he might be arrested. Sir John +was one of the most important men in St. Goram, hence the law would be +swift to take its course. The policemen would be falling over each other +in their eagerness to do their duty. + +The tall grandfather's clock in the corner beat out the moments with +loud and monotonous click. The fire in the grate sank lower and lower. +All the village noises died down into silence. Mrs. Penlogan's chin, in +spite of her anxiety, began to droop upon her bosom. + +"I think we shall be left undisturbed to-night," Ralph said, with a +pathetic smile. "Perhaps we had better get off to bed." + +Mrs. Penlogan rose at once and fetched the family Bible and handed it on +to Ruth. It fell open at the 23rd Psalm: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I +shall not want." + +Ruth read it in a low, even voice. It was her father's favourite +portion--his sheet-anchor when the storms of life raged most fiercely. +Now he was beyond the tempest and beyond the strife. + +For the first time Ralph felt thankful that he was dead. + +"Dear old father," he said to himself. "He has got beyond the worry and +the pain. His heart will ache no more for ever." + +They all knelt down when the psalm ended; but no one prayed aloud. + +Ralph remained after the others had gone upstairs. It seemed of little +use going to bed, he felt too restless to sleep. + +Ever since Dorothy went away he had been expecting Policeman Budda to +call with a warrant for his arrest. Why he had not come he could not +understand. He wondered if Dorothy had interceded with her father, and +his eyes softened at the thought. + +He did not blame himself for loving her in a restrained and far-off way. +She was so fair and sweet and generous. That she was beyond his reach +was no fault of his--that he had carried her in his arms and pressed her +to his heart was the tragedy as well as the romance of his life. That +she had watched by him and succoured him in the plantation was only +another cord that bound his heart to her. That he should love her was +but the inevitable sequence of events. + +It was foolish to blame himself. He would be something less than man if +he did not love her. He had tried his hardest not to--had struggled with +all his might to put the memory of her out of his heart. But he gave up +the struggle weeks ago. It was of no use fighting against fate. It was +part of the burden he had been called upon to bear, and he would have to +bear it as bravely and as patiently as he knew how. + +He was not so vain as to imagine that she cared for him in the smallest +degree--or ever could care. Moreover, she was engaged to be married, and +would have been married months ago but for her accident. + +Ralph got up from his chair and began to walk about the room. Dorothy +Hamblyn was not for him, he knew well enough, and yet whenever he +thought of her marrying Lord Probus his whole soul revolted. It seemed +to him like sacrilege, and sacrilege in its basest form. + +It was nearly midnight when he stole silently and stealthily to his +little room, and soon after he fell fast asleep. + +When he opened his eyes again the light of a new day filled the room, +and a harsh and unfamiliar voice was speaking rapidly in the room below. +Ralph leaned over the side of his bed for a moment or two and listened. + +"It's Budda's voice," he said to himself at length, and he gave a little +gasp. If Dorothy had interceded for him, her intercession had failed. +The law would now have to take its course. + +He dressed himself carefully and with great deliberation. He would not +show the white feather if he could help it. Besides, it was just +possible he might be able to clear himself. He would not give up hope +until he was compelled to. + +Budda was very civil and even sympathetic. He sat by the fire while +Ralph ate his breakfast, and retailed a good deal of the gossip of the +village so as to lessen the strain of the situation. Ralph replied to +him with an air of well-feigned indifference and unconcern. He would +rather die than betray weakness before a policeman. + +Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth moved in and out of the room with set faces and +dry eyes. They knew how to endure silently. So many storms had beaten +upon them that it did not seem to matter much what came to them now. +Also they knew that the real bitterness would come when Ralph's place +was empty. + +Budda appeared to be in no hurry. It was all in his day's work, and +since Ralph showed no disposition to bolt, an hour sooner or later made +no difference. He read the terms of the warrant with great deliberation +and in his most impressive manner. Ralph made no reply. This was neither +the time nor the place to protest his innocence. + +Breakfast over, Ralph stretched his feet for a few moments before the +fire. Budda talked on; but Ralph said nothing. He sprang to his feet at +length and got on his hat and overcoat, while his mother and Ruth were +out of the room. + +"Now I am ready," he said; and Budda at once led the way. + +He met his mother and sister in the passage and kissed them a hurried +good-morning, and almost before they knew what had happened the door +closed, and Ralph and the policeman had disappeared. + +On the following morning he was brought before the magistrates and +remanded for a week, bail being refused. + +It was fortunate for him that in the solitude of his cell he had no +conception of the tremendous sensation his arrest produced. There had +been nothing like it in St. Goram for more than a generation, and for a +week or two little else was talked about. + +Of course, opinions varied as to the measure of his guilt or innocence. +But, in the main, the current of opinion went strongly against him. When +a man is down, it is surprising how few his friends are. The bulk of the +St. Goramites were far more ready to kick him than defend him. Wiseacres +and busybodies told all who cared to listen how they had predicted some +such catastrophe. David Penlogan was a good man, but he had not trained +his children wisely. He had spent more on their education than his +circumstances warranted, with the result that they were exclusive and +proud, and discontented with the station in life to which Providence had +called them. + +Ralph would have been infinitely pained had he known how indifferent the +mass of the people were to his fate, and how ready some of those whom he +had regarded as his friends were to listen to tales against him. Even +those who defended him, did it in a very tepid and half-hearted way; and +the more strongly the current ran against him, the more feeble became +his defence. + +At the end of a week Ralph was brought up and remanded again. Sir John +Hamblyn was still confined to his bed, and the doctor could not say when +he would be well enough to appear and give evidence. + +So time after time he was dragged into the dock, only to be hustled +after a few minutes back into his cell. + +But at length, after weary weeks of waiting, Sir John appeared at the +court-house with his arm in a sling. The bench was crowded with +magistrates, all of whom were loud in their expressions of sympathy and +emphatic in their denunciation of the crime that had been committed. + +Sir John being a baronet and a magistrate, and a very considerable +landowner, was accommodated with a cushion, and allowed to sit while he +gave evidence. The court-room was packed, and the crowd outside was +considerably larger than that within. + +Ralph was led into the dock looking but a ghost of his former self. The +long weeks of confinement--following upon his illness--the scanty prison +fare in place of nourishing food, had wasted him almost to a shadow. He +stood, however, erect and defiant, and faced the bench of country +squires with a fearless light in his eyes. They might have the power to +shut him up within stone walls, but they could not break his spirit. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SIR JOHN GETS ANGRY + + +It was remarked that Sir John never looked at the prisoner all the time +he was giving evidence. He was, however, perfectly at home before his +brother magistrates, and showed none of that nervousness and restraint +which ordinary mortals feel in similar circumstances. The story he told +was simple and straightforward. He had not an enemy in the parish, as +far as he knew, except the prisoner, who had made no secret of his +hatred and of his desire for revenge. + +He admitted that fortune had been unkind to the elder Penlogan, but in +the chances of life it was inevitable that some should come out at the +bottom. As the ground landlord, he had acted with every consideration, +and had given David Penlogan plenty of time to realise to the best +advantage. Hence he felt quite sure that their worships would acquit him +of any intention of being either harsh or unjust. + +A general nodding of heads on the part of the magistrates satisfied him +on that point. + +He then went on to tell the story of the prisoner's visit to Hamblyn +Manor, and how he had the effrontery to charge him with killing his +father. + +"Gentlemen, he had murder in his eyes when he came to see me; but, +fortunately, he had no opportunity of doing me harm." + +Sir John waved his right hand dramatically when he uttered these words, +the effect of which--in the language of the local reporter--was +"Sensation in Court." + +He then went on to describe the events of the afternoon when the shot +was fired. + +He was not likely to be mistaken in the prisoner's face. He had no wish +to take an oath that it was the prisoner, but he was morally certain +that it was he. + +Then followed a good deal of collateral evidence that the police had +gathered up and spliced together. The prisoner had been seen by a number +of people that afternoon with a gun under his arm. He wore a cloth cap, +such as Sir John had described. He had been seen crossing Polskiddy +Downs, which, as everyone knew, abutted on Treliskey Plantation. He had +expressed himself very bitterly on several occasions respecting Sir +John, and had talked vaguely about being quits with him some day. +Footprints near the hedge behind which the shot was fired tallied with a +pair of boots in the prisoner's house; also, the prisoner returned to +his own house within an hour of the shot being fired. + +The magistrates looked more and more grave as the chain of evidence +lengthened out, though most of them had quite made up their minds before +the proceedings began. + +Ralph, in spite of all advice to the contrary, pleaded "not guilty," and +being allowed to speak in his own defence, availed himself of the +opportunity. + +"Why should I want to kill the squire?" he said, in a tone of scorn. +"God will punish him soon enough." (More sensation in court.) "That he +has behaved badly to us," Ralph went on, "no unprejudiced person will +deny, though you, being landowners yourselves, approve. I don't deny +that he acted within his legal rights. So did Shylock. But had he the +heart of a savage, to say nothing of a Christian, he could not have +acted more oppressively. I told him that he killed my father--and I +repeat it to-day!" (Renewed sensation.) "I did go out shooting on that +day in question. My gun licence has not expired yet. Mr. Hooker told me +I could shoot over Dingley Bottom any time I liked, and I was glad of +the opportunity, for our larder was not overstocked, as you may imagine. +I crossed Polskiddy Downs, I admit--it is the one bit of common land +that you gentry have not filched from us----" (Profound sensation, +during which the chairman protested that if prisoner did not keep +himself strictly to his defence, the privilege of speaking further would +be taken from him.) "As you will, gentlemen," Ralph said indifferently. +"I do not expect justice or a fair hearing in a court of this kind." + +"Order, order!" shouted the magistrates' clerk. The chairman intimated, +after a few moments of silence, that the prisoner might proceed if he +would promise not to insult the Bench. + +"I have very little more to add," Ralph went on, quite calmly. +"Unfortunately, no one saw me in Dingley Bottom, and yet I went straight +there from home, and came straight back again. I did not go within half +a mile of Treliskey Plantation. Moreover, if I wanted to meet Sir John, +I should go to his house, as I have done more than once, and not wander +through miles of wood on the off-chance of meeting him. Nor is that all. +If I wanted to kill the gentleman, I should have killed him, and not +sprinkled a few shots on his coat sleeve. I have two barrels to my gun, +and I do not often miss what I aim at. If I had intended to murder him, +do you think I should have been such a fool as to first show my face and +then let him escape? I went out in broad daylight; I returned in broad +daylight. Is it conceivable that if I intended to shoot the gentleman I +should have been seen carrying a gun? or that, having done the deed, I +should have returned in sight of all the village? It has been suggested +that, having been caught trespassing in the plantation, I was seized +with a sudden desire for revenge. If that had been the case, do you +think I would have half completed the task? As all the parish can +testify, I am no indifferent shot. If I was alone in the plantation with +him, and wanted to kill him, I could have done it. But, gentlemen, I +swear before God I was not in the plantation, nor even near it. I have +never lifted a finger against this man, nor would I do it if I had the +opportunity. That he has treated me and mine with cruel oppression is +common knowledge. But vengeance is God's, and I have no desire, nor ever +had any desire, to take the law into my own hands." + +Many opinions were expressed afterwards as to the effect produced by +Ralph's speech, but the general impression was that he did no good for +himself. The Bench was by no means impressed in his favour. They +detected a socialistic flavour in some of the things he flung at them. +He had not been respectful--indeed, in plain English, he had been +insulting. They would not have tolerated him, only he was on his trial, +and they were anxious to avoid any suspicion of unfairness. They +flattered themselves afterwards that they displayed a spirit of great +Christian forbearance, and as they had almost to a man made up their +minds beforehand, they had no hesitation in committing him to take his +trial at the next Assizes on the charge of shooting at Sir John Hamblyn +with intent to do him grievous bodily harm. + +The question of bail was not mentioned, and Ralph went back to his cell +to meditate once more on the tender mercies of the rich and the justice +of the strong. + +Sir John returned to his home very well pleased with the result of the +morning's proceedings. The decision of the magistrates seemed a +compliment to himself. To make it an Assize case indicated a due +appreciation of his position and importance. + +Also he was pleased because he believed the decision would completely +destroy any romantic attachment that Dorothy might cherish for the +accused. It had come to his knowledge that at the very time Mr. +Tregonning was at his bedside taking his depositions, she was at the +cottage of the Penlogans interviewing the accused himself. This +knowledge had made Sir John more angry than he had been for a very long +time. It was not merely the indiscretion that angered him, it was what +the indiscretion implied. + +However, he believed that the decision of the magistrates would put an +end to all this nonsense, and that in the revulsion of feeling Lord +Probus would again have his opportunity. + +Dorothy asked him the result of the trial on his return, and when he +told her she made no reply whatever. Neither did he enlarge on the +matter. He concluded that it would be the wiser policy to let the simple +facts of the case make their own impression. Women, he knew, were +proverbially stubborn, and not always reasonable, while the more they +were opposed, the more doggedly determined they became. + +Such fears and suspicions as he had he wisely kept to himself. Dorothy +was only a foolish girl, who would grow wiser with time. The teaching of +experience and the pressure of circumstances would in the end, he +believed, compel her to go the way he wished her to take. In the +meanwhile, his cue was to watch and wait, and not too obtrusively show +his hand. + +Dorothy was as reticent on the matter as her father. That she had become +keenly interested in the fate of Ralph Penlogan she did not attempt to +hide from herself. That a cruel wrong had been done to him she honestly +believed. That her sympathies went out to him in his undeserved +sufferings was a fact she had no wish to dispute, and that in some way +he had influenced her in her decision not to marry Lord Probus was also, +to her own mind, too patent to be contested. + +But she saw no danger in any of these simple facts. The idea of being in +love with a small working farmer's son did not enter her head. She +belonged to a different world socially, and such a proposition would not +occur to her. But social position could not prevent her admiring good +looks, and physical strength, and manly ways, and a generous +disposition, when they were brought under her notice. + +On the day following the decision of the magistrates she read a full +account of the proceedings in the local newspaper, and for the first +time was made aware of the fact that it was not Lord St. Goram who had +so unmercifully oppressed the Penlogans, but her own father. + +For a few minutes she felt quite stunned. + +It had never occurred to her that her father was the lord of the manor. +In her mind he was not a lord at all. He was simply a baronet. + +How short-sighted she had been! Slowly the full meaning and significance +of the fact worked its way into her brain, and her face flushed with +shame and indignation. Why had not her father the courage to tell her +the truth? Why had he allowed her to wrong Lord St. Goram even in +thought? Why was he so relentless in his pursuit of the people he had +treated so harshly? Was it true that people never forgave those they had +wronged? Then her thoughts turned unconsciously to the Penlogans. How +they must hate her father, and yet how sensitive they had been not to +hurt her feelings. Even Ralph had allowed her to think that Lord St. +Goram was the oppressor. + +"He ought not to have deceived me," she said to herself, and yet she +liked him all the more for his chivalry. + +Her thoughts went back to that first day of their meeting, when she +mistook him for a country yokel. Considering the fact that she was a +lady, and on horseback, he had undoubtedly been rude to her, and yet he +was rude in a manly sort of way. She liked him even then, and liked him +all the more because he did not cringe to her. + +But since then his every word and act had evinced the very soul of +chivalry. In many ways he was much more a gentleman than Lord Probus. +Indeed, she was inclined to think that in every way he was more of a +gentleman. Lord Probus had wealth--fabulous wealth, it was believed--and +a thin veneer of polish. But, stripped of the outer shell, she felt +quite certain that the farmer's son was much more the gentleman of the +two. + +It was inevitable, however, that the subject should sooner or later crop +up between the father and daughter, and when it did crop up, Sir John +was quite unable to hide the bias of his mind. + +"In tracking down a crime," he said, with quite a magisterial air, "the +first thing to discover, if possible, is a motive. Given a motive, the +rest is often comparatively easy. Now in this case I kept the motive +from you, as I had no wish to prejudice the young man in your eyes. But +in the preliminary trial, as you will have observed, the motive came +out. Why he shot me is clear enough. Why he did not complete the work is +due probably to failure of nerve; or possibly he thought I was dead, for +I fell to the ground like a log." + +"Why, father, you said you took to your heels and ran like the wind, and +so got out of his reach." + +"That was after I recovered myself, Dorothy. I admit I ran then." + +"And you still believe that it was he who fired the shot?" + +"Why, of course I do." + +"With intent to kill?" + +"There is not the least doubt of it." + +"You think he had good reason for hating you?" + +"From his point of view he may think that I ought to have foregone my +rights." + +"He thinks you ought not to have pushed them to extremes, as you did. It +was a cruel thing to do, father, and you know it." + +"The Penlogans have never been desirable people. They have never known +their place, or kept it. I wouldn't have leased the downs to them if I +had known their opinions. No man did so much to turn the last election +as David Penlogan." + +"I suppose he had a perfect right to his opinions?" + +"And I have the right to exercise any influence or power I possess in +any way I please," he retorted angrily. "And if I chose to accept a more +suitable tenant for one of my farms, that's my business and no one +else's." + +"I have no wish to argue the question, father," she answered quietly. + +"But I suppose you will own that the fellow is guilty?" + +"No, father. I am quite sure that he is no more guilty than I am." + +"What folly!" he ejaculated angrily. + +"I do not think it is folly at all. I know Ralph Penlogan better than +you do, and I know he is incapable of such a thing. At the Assizes you +will be made to look incredibly foolish." + +"What? what?" he ejaculated. + +"Here, all the magistrates belong to your set. They had made up their +minds beforehand. No unprejudiced jury in the world would ever convict +on such evidence." + +"Child," he said angrily, "you don't know what you are talking about." + +"And even if he were convicted," she went on, with flashing eyes, "I +should know all the same that he is innocent." + +He looked at her almost aghast. This was worse than his worst +suspicions. + +"Then you have made up your mind," he said, with a brave effort to +control himself, "to believe that he is innocent, whatever judge or jury +may say?" + +"I know he is innocent," she answered quietly. + +"You are a little simpleton," he said, clenching and unclenching his +hands; "a foolish, headstrong girl. I am grieved at you, ashamed of you! +I did expect ordinary common sense in my daughter." + +"I am sorry you are angry with me," she said demurely. "But think again. +Are you not biased and prejudiced? You are not sure it was his face you +saw. In all probability the gun going off was pure accident. Have you +not been hard enough on the Penlogans already, that you persist in +having this on your conscience also?" + +"Silence!" he almost screamed, and he advanced a step towards her with +clenched hand. "Go to your room," he cried, "and don't show your face +again to-day! To-morrow I will talk to you, and not only talk but act." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE BIG HOUSE + + +It was when Mrs. Penlogan began to dispose of her furniture in order to +provide food and fuel that the landlord became alarmed about his rent, +and so promptly seized what remained in order to make himself secure. + +It was three days after Christmas, and the weather was bitterly cold. +Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth looked at each other for a moment in silence, and +then burst into tears. What was to be done now she did not know. Ralph +was still in prison awaiting his trial, and so was powerless to help +them. Their money was all spent. Even their furniture was gone, and they +had no friends to whom they could turn for help. + +Since Ralph's committal their old friends had fought shy of them. Ruth +felt the disgrace more keenly than did her mother. The cold looks of +people they had befriended in their better days cut her to the heart. +Ruth had tried to get the post of sewing mistress at the day school, +which had become vacant, but the fact that her brother was in prison +awaiting his trial proved an insuperable barrier. It would never do to +contaminate the tender hearts of the young by bringing them into contact +with one whose brother had been accused of a terrible crime. + +She never realised before how sensitive the public conscience was, nor +how jealous all the St. Goramites were for the honour of the community. +People whom she had always understood were no better than they ought to +be, turned up their noses at her in haughty disdain. But that it was so +tragic, she could have laughed at the virtuous airs assumed by people +whose private life had long been the talk of the district. + +It was a terrible blow to Ruth. The Penlogans, though looked upon as +somewhat exclusive, had been widely respected. David Penlogan was a man +in a thousand. Mistaken, some people thought, foolish in the investment +of his money, and much too trusting where human nature was involved, but +his sincerity and goodness no one doubted. The young people had been +less admired, for they seemed a little above their station. They spoke +the language of the gentry, and kept aloof from everything that savoured +of vulgarity. "They were too well educated for their position." + +Their sudden and painful fall proved an occasion for much moralising. +"Pride goeth before a fall," was a passage of Scripture that found great +acceptance. If the Penlogans had not been so exclusive in their better +days, they would not have found themselves so destitute of friends now. + +Two or three days practically without food or fire reduced Ruth and her +mother to a state bordering on despair. If they had possessed any pride +in the past it was all gone now. Hunger is a great leveller. + +The relieving officer, when consulted, had little in the way of comfort +to offer, though he gave much sage advice. He had little doubt that the +parish would allow Mrs. Penlogan half a crown a week; that was the limit +of outdoor relief. Her husband had paid scores of pounds in the shape of +poor rate, but that counted for nothing. The justice of the strong +manifests itself in many ways. When a man is no longer able to +contribute to the maintenance of paupers in general, he becomes a pauper +himself. Cease to pay your poor rate, because you are too old to work, +and you cease to be a citizen, your vote is taken away, you are classed +among the social rubbish of your generation. + +"But what is to become of me?" Ruth asked pitifully. + +The relieving officer stroked the side of his nose and considered the +question for a moment before he answered. + +"I'm afraid," he said, "the law makes no provision for such as you. You +see you are a able-bodied young woman. You must earn your own living." + +"That is what I have been trying my best to do," she answered tearfully. +"But because poor Ralph has been wrongfully and wickedly accused, no one +will look at me." + +"That, of course, we cannot 'elp," the relieving officer answered. + +Ruth and her mother lay awake all the night and talked the matter over. +It was clearly beyond the bounds of possibility that two people could +live and pay rent out of half a crown a week. What then was to be done? +There was only one alternative, and Ruth had not the courage to face it. +Her mother was in feeble health, her spirit was broken, and to send her +alone into the workhouse would be to break her heart. + +The maximum of cruelty with the minimum of charity appears to be the +principle on which our poor-law system is based. The sensitive and +self-respecting loathe the very thought of it, and no man with a heart +in him can wonder. + +Mrs. Penlogan, however, had reached the limit of mental suffering. There +comes a point when the utmost is reached, when the lash can do no more, +when the nerves refuse to carry any heavier burden of pain. To the sad +and broken-hearted woman it seemed of little moment what became of her. +All that she asked was a lonely corner somewhere in which she might hide +herself and die. + +She knew almost by instinct what was passing through Ruth's mind. She +lay silent, but she was not asleep. + +"You are thinking about the workhouse, Ruth?" she said at length. + +"They'll not have me there, mother, for I am healthy and able-bodied." + +"There'll be something left from the furniture when the rent is paid," +Mrs. Penlogan said, after a long pause. "You'll have to take it and face +the world. When I am in the workhouse you will be much more free." + +"Mother!" + +"It's got to come, Ruth. I would much rather go down to St. Ivel and +throw myself into a shaft, but that would be self-murder, and a murderer +cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. So I will endure as patiently +as I can, and as long as God wills. When it is over, it will seem but a +dream. I want to see father again when the night ends. Dear David, I am +glad he went when he did." + +"If he had lived we should not have come to this," Ruth answered +tearfully. + +"If he had lived a paralytic, Ruth, our lot would have been even worse. +So it is better that God took him before he became a burden to himself." + +"And yet but for the cruel laws made by the rich and powerful he would +still be with us, and we should not have been turned out of the dear old +home." + +"That is over and past, Ruth," Mrs. Penlogan answered, with a sigh. "Ah +me! if this life were all, it would not be worth the living--at least +for the poor and oppressed. But we have to endure as best we may. You +can tell Mr. Thomas that I will go to the workhouse whenever he likes to +fetch me." + +"Do you really mean it, mother?" + +"Yes, Ruth. I've thought it all over. It's the only thing left. It +wouldn't be right to lie here and die of starvation. Maybe when the +storm has spent itself there will come a time of peace." + +"Yes, in the grave, mother." + +"If God so wills," she answered. "But I would like to live to see +Ralph's name cleared before the world." + +"I have almost given up hope of that," Ruth answered sadly. "How can the +poor defend themselves against the rich? Poor Ralph will stand +undefended before judge and jury, and we have seen how easy it is to +work up a case and make every link fit into its place." + +"Perhaps God will stand by him," Mrs. Penlogan answered, but in doubting +tones. "Oh, if I only had faith as I once had! But I seem like a reed +that has been broken by the storm. I try my hardest to believe, but +doubts will come. And yet, who knows, God may be better than our fears." + +"God appears to be on the side of the rich and strong," Ruth answered, a +little defiantly. "Why should John Hamblyn be allowed to work his will +on everybody? Even his daughter is kept a prisoner at home, lest she +should show her sympathy to us." + +"That is only gossip, Ruth. She may have no desire to come, or she may +not have the courage. She knows now the part her father has played." + +To this Ruth made no answer, and then silence fell until it was time to +get up. + +The day passed for the most part as the night had done, in discussing +the situation. The last morsel of food in the house had disappeared, and +strict watch was kept that they pawned no more of the furniture. + +Mrs. Penlogan never once faltered in her purpose. + +"It will be better than dying of starvation," she said. "Besides, it +will set you free." + +"Free?" Ruth gasped. "It will be a strange kind of freedom to find +oneself in a hostile world alone." + +"You will be able to defend yourself, Ruth, and I do not think anyone +will molest you." + +"Please don't imagine that I am afraid," Ruth answered defiantly. "But +you, mother, in that big, cheerless house, will break your heart," and +she burst into tears. + +"No, don't fret, child," the mother said soothingly. "My heart cannot be +broken any more than it is already. Maybe I shall grow more cheerful +when I've had enough to eat." + +On the following day Ruth went with her mother in the workhouse van to +the big house. It was the most silent journey she ever took, and the +saddest. She would rather have followed her mother to the cemetery--at +least, so she thought at the time. There was such a big lump in her +throat that she could not talk. Her mother seemed only vaguely to +comprehend what the journey meant. Her eyes saw nothing on the way, her +thoughts were in some far-distant place. She got out of the van quite +nimbly when they reached the end of their journey, and stood for a +moment on the threshold as if undecided. + +"You had better not come in," she said at length. "We will say good-bye +here." + +"Do you think you can bear it, mother?" Ruth questioned, the tears +welling suddenly up into her eyes. + +"Oh yes," she answered, with a pathetic smile. "There'll be nothing to +worry about, you know, and I shall have plenty to eat." + +Ruth threw her arms about her mother's neck and burst into a passion of +tears. "Oh, I never thought we should come to this!" she sobbed. + +[Illustration: "RUTH THREW HER ARMS ABOUT HER MOTHER'S NECK AND BURST +INTO A PASSION OF TEARS."] + +"It won't matter, my girl, when we are in heaven," was the quiet and +patient answer. + +"But we are not in heaven, mother. We are here on this wicked, cruel +earth, and it breaks my heart to see you suffer so." + +"My child, the suffering is in the past. The storm has done its worst. I +feel as though I couldn't worry any more. I am just going to be still +and wait." + +"I shall come and see you as often as I can," Ruth said, giving her +mother a final hug, "and you'll not lose heart, will you?" + +"No. I shall think of you and Ralph, and if there's a ray of hope +anywhere I shall cherish it." + +So they parted. Ruth watched her mother march away through a long +corridor in charge of an attendant, watched her till a door swung and +hid her from sight. Then, brushing her hand resolutely across her eyes, +she turned away to face the world alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DEVELOPMENTS + + +The Penlogans' cottage had been empty two full days before the people of +St. Goram became aware that anything unusual had happened. That Ruth and +her mother were reduced to considerable straits was a matter of common +knowledge. People could not dispose of a quantity of their furniture +without the whole neighbourhood getting to know, and in several +quarters--notably at the Wheat Sheaf, and in Dick Lowry's smithy, and in +the shop of William Menire, general dealer--the question was discussed +as to how long the Penlogans could hold out, and what would become of +them in the end. + +To offer them charity was what no one had the courage to do, and for a +Penlogan to ask it was almost inconceivable. Since the event which had +landed Ralph in prison, Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth had withdrawn themselves +more than ever from public gaze. They evidently wanted to see no one, +and it was equally clear they desired no one to see them. What little +shopping they did was done after dark, and when Ruth went to chapel she +stole in late, and retired before the congregation could get a look at +her. + +Hence for two days no one noticed that no smoke appeared above the +chimney of the Penlogans' cottage, and that no one had been seen going +in or coming out of the house. On the third day, however, William +Menire--whose store they had patronised while they had any money to +spend--became uneasy in his mind on account of the non-appearance of +Ruth. + +His thoughts had been turned in her direction because he had been +expecting for some time that she would be asking for credit, and he had +seriously considered the matter as to what answer he should make. To +trust people who had no assets and no income was, on the face of it, a +very risky proceeding. On the other hand, Ruth Penlogan had such a sweet +and winning face, and was altogether so good to look upon, that he felt +he would have considerable difficulty in saying no to her. William was a +man who was rapidly reaching the old age of youth, and so far had +resisted successfully all the blandishments of the fair sex; but he had +to own to himself that if he were thrown much in the company of Ruth +Penlogan he would have to tighten up the rivets of his armour, or else +weakly and ignominiously surrender. + +While the Penlogans lived at Hillside he knew very little of them. They +did not deal with him, and he had no opportunity of making their +acquaintance. But since they came to the cottage Ruth had often been in +his shop to make some small purchase. He sold everything, from flour to +hob nails and from calico to mouse traps, and Ruth had found his shop in +this respect exceedingly convenient. It saved her from running all over +the village to make her few purchases. + +William had been impressed from the first by her gentle ways and her +refined manner of speech. She spoke with the tone and accent of the +quality, and had he not been informed who she was he would have taken +her for some visitor at one of the big houses. + +For two days William had watched with considerable interest for Ruth's +appearance. He felt that it did him good to look into her sweet, serious +eyes, and he had come to the conclusion that if she asked for credit he +would not be able to say no. He might have to wait for a considerable +time for his money, but after all money was not everything--the +friendship of a girl like Ruth Penlogan was surely worth something. + +As the third morning, however, wore away, and Ruth did not put in an +appearance, William--as we have seen--got a little anxious. And when his +mother--who kept house for him--was able to take his place behind the +counter, he took off his apron, put on his bowler hat, and stole away +through the village in the direction of St. Ivel. + +The cottage stood quite alone, just over the boundary of St. Goram +parish, and was almost hidden by a tall thorn hedge. As William drew +near he noticed that the chimneys were smokeless, and this did not help +to allay his anxiety. As he walked up to the door he noticed that none +of the blinds were drawn, and this in some measure reassured him. + +He knocked loudly with his knuckles, and waited. After awhile he knocked +again, and drew nearer the door and listened. A third time he knocked, +and then he began to get a little concerned. He next tried the handle, +and discovered that the door was locked. + +"Well, this is curious, to say the least of it," he reflected. "I hope +they are not both dead in the house together." + +After awhile he seized the door handle and gave the door a good rattle, +but no one responded to the assault, and with a puzzled expression in +his eyes William heaved a sigh, and began to retrace his steps towards +the village. + +"I'll go to Budda," he said to himself. "A policeman ought to know what +to do for the best. Anyhow, if a policeman breaks into a house, nobody +gets into trouble for it." And he quickened his pace till he was almost +out of breath. + +As good luck would have it, he met Budda half-way up the village, and at +once took him into his confidence. + +Budda put on an expression of great profundity. + +"I think we ought to break into the house," William said hurriedly. + +This proposition Budda negatived at once. To do what anyone else advised +would show lack of originality on the part of the force. If William had +suggested that they ask Dick Lowry the smith to pick the lock, Budda +would have gone at once and battered the door down. Initiative and +originality are the chief characteristics of the men in blue. + +"Let me see," said Budda, looking wise and stroking his chin with great +tenderness, "Amos Bice the auctioneer is the landlord, if I'm not +greatly mistook." + +"Then possibly he knows something?" William said anxiously. + +"Possibly he do," Budda answered oracularly. "I will walk on and see +him." + +"I will walk along with you," William replied. "I confess I'm getting a +bit curious. Everybody knows, of course, that they're terribly hard up, +though I must say they've paid cash down for everything got at my +store." + +"Been disposing of their furniture, I hear," Budda said shortly. + +"So it is reported," William replied. "That implies sore straits, and +they are not the sort of people, by all accounts, to ask for help." + +"Would die sooner," Budda replied laconically. + +"Then perhaps they're dead," William said, with a little gasp. "It must +be terrible hard for people who have known better days." + +Amos Bice looked up with a start when Budda and William Menire entered +his small office. + +"I have come to inquire," Budda began, quite ignoring his companion, "if +you know anything about--well, about what has become of the Penlogans?" + +"Well, I do--of course," he said, slowly and reflectively; though why he +should have added "of course" was not quite clear. + +William began to breathe a little more freely. Budda looked +disappointed. Budda revelled in mysteries, and when a mystery was +cleared up all the interest was taken out of it. + +"Then you know where they are?" Budda questioned shortly. + +"I know where the mother is--I am not so sure of the daughter. But +naturally it is not a matter that I care to talk about, particularly as +they did not wish their doings to be the subject of common gossip." + +"May I ask why you do not care to talk about them?" Budda questioned +severely. + +"Well, it's this way. I'm the owner of the cottage, as perhaps you know. +The rent is paid quarterly in advance. They paid their first quarter at +Michaelmas. The next was due, of course, at Christmas. Well, you see, I +found they were getting rid of their furniture rapidly, and in my own +interests I had naturally to put a stop to it. Well, this brought things +to a head. You see, the boy is in prison awaiting his trial, the mother +is ailing, and the girl has found no way yet of earning her living, or +hadn't a week ago. So, being brought to a full stop, they had to face +the question and submit to the inevitable. I took all the furniture at a +valuation--in fact, for a good deal more than it was worth--and after +subtracting the rent, handed them over the balance. Mr. Thomas got an +order for the old lady to go into the workhouse, and the girl, as I +understand, is going to try to get a place in domestic service." + +William Menire almost groaned. The idea of this sweet, gentle, ladylike +girl being an ordinary domestic drudge seemed almost an outrage. + +"And how long ago is all this?" Budda asked severely. + +"Oh, just the day before yesterday. No, let me see. It was the day +before that." + +"And you have said nothing about it?" + +"It was no business of mine to gossip over other people's affairs." + +"They seem to have been very brave people," William remarked timidly. + +"What some people would call proud," the auctioneer replied. "Not that I +object. I like to see people showing a little proper pride. Some people +would have boasted that they had heaps of money coming to them, and +would have gone into debt everywhere. The Penlogans wouldn't buy a thing +they couldn't pay for." + +"It's what I call a great come down for them," Budda remarked +sententiously; and then the two men took their departure, Budda to +spread the news of the Penlogans' last descent in the social scale, and +William to meditate more or less sadly on the chances of human life. + +Before the church clock pointed to the hour of noon all St. Goram was +agog with the news, and for the rest of the day little else was talked +about. People were very sorry, of course--at any rate, they said they +were; they paid lip service to the god of convention. It was a great +come down for people who had occupied a good position, but the ways of +Providence were very mysterious, and their duty was to be very grateful +that no such calamity had overtaken them. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A CONFESSION + + +The vicar was in the throes of a new sermon when the news reached him. +He had been at work on the sermon all the day, for its delivery was to +be a great effort. Hence, it was long after dark before the tidings +filtered through to his study. + +Mr. Seccombe laid down his pen, and looked thoughtful. The news sent his +thoughts running along an entirely new track. The thread of his sermon +was cut clean through, and every effort he made to pick up the ends and +splice them proved a dismal failure. From the triumphs of grace his +thoughts drifted away to the mysteries of Providence. + +He pulled himself up with a jerk at length. How much had God to do, +after all, with what men called Providence? Was it the purpose of God +that his boy Julian should grow into a fighter? Was it part of the same +purpose that he should be killed in a distant land by an Arab's lance; +that out of that should grow the commercial ruin of one of the +saintliest men in the parish; and that his wife, in the closing years of +her life, should be driven into the cold shadow of the workhouse? + +John Seccombe got up from his chair and began to pace up and down the +study. + +He was interrupted in his meditations by a feeble knock on his study +door. + +"Come in," he said, pausing in his walk; and he waited a little +impatiently for the door to open. + +"A young man wants to see you, sir," the housemaid said, opening the +door just wide enough to show her face. + +"Who is he?" + +"I don't know, sir. He did not give any name." + +"Some shy young man who wants to get married, I expect," was the thought +that passed through Mr. Seccombe's mind. + +"Show him in," he said, after a pause. And a moment or two later a +pale-faced young man came shyly and hesitatingly into the room. He +carried a cloth cap in his hand, and was dressed in a badly fitting suit +of tweed. + +Mr. Seccombe looked at him for a moment inquiringly. He thought he knew, +by sight, nearly everybody in the parish, but he was not sure that he +had seen this young man before. + +"Will you take a seat?" he said, anxious to put the young man at his +ease; for he was still convinced that this was a timid bachelor, who +wanted to make arrangements for getting married. + +"I would prefer to stand, if you don't mind," he answered, toying +nervously with his cap. + +"As you will," the vicar said, with a smile. "I presume you are about to +take to yourself a wife?" + +"Me? Oh dear, no. I've something else to think of." + +"I beg your pardon," the vicar said, feeling a little confused. "I +thought, perhaps----" + +"Nothing so pleasant," was the hurried answer. "The fact is, I've come +upon a job that--well, I hardly know if I can tell it, now I've come." + +The vicar began to feel interested. + +"You had better take a seat," he said. "You will feel more comfortable." + +The young man dropped into an easy-chair and stared at the fire. He was +not a bad-looking young fellow. His face was pale, as though he worked +underground, and his cheeks were thin enough to suggest too little +nourishing food. + +"The truth is, I only made up my mind an hour ago," he said abruptly. + +"Yes?" the vicar said encouragingly. + +"You have heard of that poor woman being carried off to the workhouse, I +expect." + +"You mean Mrs. Penlogan?" + +"Ay! Well, that floored me. I felt that I could hold out no longer. I +meant to have waited to see which way the trial went----" + +"Yes?" the vicar said again, seeing he hesitated. + +"I've always believed that no jury that wasn't prejudiced would convict +him on the evidence." + +"You refer to Ralph Penlogan, of course?" + +"The young man who's in prison on the charge of shooting Squire Hamblyn. +Do you think he's anything like me?" + +"You certainly are not unlike him in the general outline of your face. +But, of course, anyone who knows young Penlogan----" + +"Would never mistake him for me," the other interrupted. + +"Well, I should say not, certainly." + +"And yet bigger mistakes have been made. But I'd better tell you the +whole story. I don't know what'll become of mother and the young ones, +but I can't bear it any longer, and that's a fact. When I heard that +that poor woman had been took off to the workhouse, I said to myself, +'Jim Brewer, you're a coward.' And that's the reason I'm here----" + +"Yes?" said the vicar again, and waited for his visitor to proceed. + +"It was I who shot the squire!" + +The vicar started, but did not speak. + +"I had no notion that he was about, or I shouldn't have ventured into +the plantation, you may be quite sure. I was after anything I could +get--hare, or rabbit, or pheasant, or barnyard fowl, if nothing else +turned up." + +"Then you were poaching?" said the vicar. + +"Call it anything you like, but if you was in my place, maybe you'd have +done the same. There hadn't been a bit of fresh meat in our house for a +fortnight, and little Fred, who'd been ill, was just pining away. You +see I'd been off work, through crushing my thumb, for a whole month, and +we'd got to the end of the tether. Butcher wouldn't trust us no further, +and we'd been living on dry bread and a little skimmed milk, with a +vegetable now and then. It was terrible hard on us all. I didn't mind +myself so much, but to see the little one go hungry----" + +"But what does your father do?" the vicar interrupted. + +"Father was killed in the mine six years agone, and I've been the only +one as has earned anything since. Well, you see, I took the old +musket--though I knew, of course, I had no licence--and I went out on +the common to shoot anything as came in the way--but nothing turned up. +Then I went into the plantation, and as I was getting over a hedge I +came face to face with the squire. + +"Well, I draws back in a moment, and that very moment something catches +the trigger, and off the gun went. A minute after I heard the squire +a-howling and a-screaming like mad, and when next I looks over the hedge +he was running for dear life and shouting at the top of his voice. + +"Well, I just hid myself in the 'browse' till it was dark, and then I +creeps home empty-handed and never said a word to nobody. Well, next +day, in the mine, I hears as how young Penlogan had been took up on the +charge of trying to murder the squire. I never thought nobody would +convict him, and if I'd been in the police court when he were sent to +the Assizes I couldn't have kept the truth back. But you see I weren't +there, and I says to myself that no jury with two ounces of brains will +say he's guilty; and so I reckon I'd have held out till the Assizes if I +hadn't heard they'd took his poor old mother off to the workhouse. That +finished me. I says to myself, 'Jim Brewer, you're a coward,' I says, +and I made up my mind then and there to tell the truth. And so I've come +to you, being a parson and a magistrate. And the story I've told you is +gospel truth, as sure as I'm a living man." + +"It seems a very great pity you did not tell this story before," the +vicar said reflectively. + +"Ay, that's true enough. But I hadn't the courage somehow. You see, I +made sure he'd come out all right in the end; and then I thought of +mother and little Fred, and Jack and Mary and Peggy, and somehow I +couldn't bring myself to face it. It was the poor woman being drove to +the workhouse as did it. I think I'd rather die than that my mother +should go there." + +"I really can't see, for the life of me, why you working people so much +object to the workhouse," the vicar said, in a tone of irritation. "It's +a very comfortable house; the inmates are well treated in every way, and +there isn't a pauper in the House to-day that isn't better off than when +outside." + +"Maybe it's the name of it, sir," the young man went on. "But I feel +terrible bitter against the place. But the point now is, what are we +going to do with Ralph Penlogan, and what are you going to do with me?" + +"Well, really I hardly know," the vicar said, looking uncomfortable. +"You do not own to committing any crime. You were trespassing, +certainly--perhaps I ought to say poaching. But--well, I think I ought +to consult Mr. Tregonning, and--well, yes--Budda. Would you mind waiting +while I send and ask Mr. Tregonning to come on?" + +"No; I'll do anything you wish. Now I've started, I want to go straight +on to the end." + +Mr. Seccombe was back again in a few moments. + +"May I ask," he said, with his eyes on the carpet, "if you saw anyone on +the afternoon in question, or if anyone saw you?" + +"Only Bilkins." + +"He's one of Sir John's gardeners, I think." + +"Very likely." + +"And you were in the plantation when he saw you?" + +"Oh no; I was on the common." + +"And you were carrying the gun?" + +"Well, you see, I pushed it into a furze bush when he come along, for, +as I told you, I had no gun licence." + +"Did he speak to you?" + +"Ay. He passed the time of day, and asked if I had any sport." + +"And you saw no one else?" + +"Nobody but the squire." + +Later in the day Bilkins was sent for, and arrived at the vicarage much +wondering what was in the wind. He wondered still more when he was +ushered into the vicar's library, and found himself face to face with +Budda, Mr. Tregonning, and Jim Brewer, in addition to the vicar. For +several moments he looked from one to another with an expression of +utter astonishment on his face. + +"I have sent for you, Bilkins," said the vicar mildly, "in order to ask +you one or two questions that seem of some importance at the present +moment." + +"Yes, sir," said Bilkins, looking, if possible, more puzzled than +before. + +"Can you recall the afternoon on which Sir John Hamblyn was shot?" + +"Why, yes, sir. Very well, sir." + +"Did you cross Polskiddy Downs that afternoon?" + +"I did, sir." + +"Did you see anybody on the downs?" + +"Well, only Jim Brewer. We met accidental like." + +"What was he doing?" + +"Well, he wasn't doing nothing. He was just standing still with his +'ands in his pockets lookin' round him and whistlin'." + +"Was he carrying a gun?" + +"Oh no, sir. He had nothin' in his 'ands." + +"Did you see a gun?" + +Bilkins glanced apprehensively at Jim Brewer, and then at the policeman. + +"Well, no," he said, with considerable hesitation. "I didn't see no +gun--that is----" + +"Did you see any part of a gun?" Mr. Tregonning interjected. + +"Well, sir, I don't wish to do no 'arm to nobody," Bilkins stammered, +growing very red, "but I did see somethin' stickin' out of a furze bush +as might have been a gun." + +"The stock of a gun, perhaps?" + +"Well, no; but it might 'ave been the barrel." + +"You did not say anything to Brewer?" + +"Well, I might, as a kind of joke, 'ave axed him if he 'ad any sport, +but it weren't my place to be inquisitive." + +"And was this far from the plantation?" + +"Oh no; it were almost close." + +"Then why, may I ask," interjected the vicar sternly, "did you not +volunteer this information when the question was raised as to who shot +your master?" + +"Never thought on it, sir. Jim Brewer is a chap as couldn't hurt +nobody." + +"And yet the fact remains that you saw him close to the plantation on +the afternoon on which Sir John was shot, and that no one saw Ralph +Penlogan near the place." + +"Yes, sir," Bilkins said vacantly. + +"But what explanation or excuse have you to offer for such dereliction +of duty?" + +"For what, sir?" + +"You must know, surely, that information was sought in all directions +that would throw any light on the question." + +"No one axed me anything, sir." + +"But you might have told what you knew without being asked." + +Bilkins looked perplexed, and remained silent. + +"Why did you not inform someone of what you had seen?" Mr. Tregonning +interposed. + +"Well, you see, sir, Sir John had made up his mind as 'twas young +Penlogan as shot him. He see'd his face as he was a-climbing over the +hedge, an' he ought to know; and besides, sir, it ain't my place to +contradict my betters." + +"Oh, indeed!" And Mr. Tregonning, as one of his "betters," looked almost +as puzzled as Bilkins. + +After a few more questions had been asked and answered, there was a +general adjournment to Hamblyn Manor. + +Sir John was on the point of retiring for the night when he was startled +by a loud ringing of the door bell, and a moment or two later he heard +the vicar's voice in the hall. + +Throwing open the library door, he came face to face with Mr. Seccombe +and Mr. Tregonning, two or three shadowy figures bringing up the rear. + +"We must ask your pardon, Sir John, for intruding at this late hour," +the vicar said, constituting himself chief spokesman, "but Mr. +Tregonning and myself felt that the matter was of so much importance +that there ought to be not an hour's unnecessary delay." + +"Indeed; will you come into the library?" Sir John said pompously, +though he felt not a little curious as to what was in the wind. + +Standing with his back against the mantelpiece, Sir John motioned his +visitors to seats. Budda, however, elected to stand guard over the door. + +For several moments there was silence, while the vicar looked at Mr. +Tregonning and Mr. Tregonning looked at the vicar. + +At last they appeared to understand each other, and the vicar cleared +his throat. + +"The truth is, Sir John," he began, "I was interrupted in my work this +evening by a visit from this young man"--inclining his head toward +Brewer--"who informed me that it was he who shot you, accidentally, on +the 29th September last----" + +"Stuff and nonsense," Sir John snapped, withdrawing his shoulders +suddenly from the mantelpiece. "Do you think I don't know a face when I +see it?" + +"And yet, sir, it were my face you saw," Brewer interposed suddenly. + +"Don't believe it," Sir John replied, with a snort. + +"You must admit, sir," Mr. Tregonning interposed apologetically, "that +this young man is not unlike Ralph Penlogan." + +"No more like him than I am," Sir John retorted, almost angrily. + +"Anyhow, you had better hear the story from the young man's lips," said +the vicar mildly, "then your own man Bilkins will give evidence that he +saw him close to the plantation on the afternoon in question." + +"Then why did you not say so?" Sir John snarled, glaring angrily at his +gardener. + +"'Tweren't for the likes of me," Bilkins said humbly, "to say anything +as would seem to contradict what you said. I hopes I know my place." + +"I hope you do," Sir John growled; and then he turned his attention to +the young miner. + +Brewer told his story straightforwardly and without any outward sign of +nervousness. He had braced himself to the task--his nerves were strung +up to the highest point of tension, and he was determined to see the +thing through now, cost what it might. + +Sir John listened with half-closed eyes and a heavy frown upon his brow. +He was far more angry than he would like anyone to know at the course +events were taking. He saw clearly enough that, from his point of view, +this was worse than a verdict of "not guilty" at the Assizes. This +story, if accepted, would clear Ralph Penlogan absolutely. Not even the +shadow of a suspicion would remain. Moreover, it would lay him (Sir +John) open to the charge of vindictiveness. + +As soon as Brewer had finished the story, the squire subjected him to a +severe and lengthy cross-examination, all of which he bore with quiet +composure, and every question he answered simply and directly. + +Then Bilkins was called upon to tell his story, which Sir John listened +to with evident disgust. + +It was getting decidedly late when all the questions had been asked and +answered, and Budda was growing impatient to know what part he was to +play in the little drama. He was itching to arrest somebody. It would +have been a relief to him if he could have arrested both Brewer and +Bilkins. + +Sir John and his brother magistrates withdrew at length to another room, +while Budda kept guard with renewed vigilance. + +"Now," said the vicar, when the door had closed behind the trio, "what +is the next step?" + +"Let the law take its course," said Sir John angrily. + +"It will take its course in any case," said Mr. Tregonning. "The +confession of Brewer, and the corroborative evidence of Bilkins, must be +forwarded at once to the proper quarter. But the question is, Sir John, +will you still hold to the charge of malicious shooting, or only of +trespass?" + +"If this story is accepted, I'll wash my hands of the whole +business--there now!" And Sir John pushed his hands into his pockets and +looked furious. + +"I don't quite see why you should treat the matter in this way," the +vicar said mildly. + +"You don't?" Sir John questioned, staring hard at him. "You don't see +that it will make fools of the whole lot of us; that it will turn the +tide of popular sympathy against the entire bench of magistrates, and +against me in particular; that it will do more harm to the gentry than +fifty elections?" + +"That's a very narrow view to take," the vicar said, with spirit. "We +should care for the right and do the right, though the heavens fall." + +"That may be all right to preach in church," Sir John said irritably, +"but in practical life we do the best we can for ourselves, unless we +are fools." + +"Then you'll not proceed against this young man for trespass?" Mr. +Tregonning inquired. + +"I tell you I'll wash my hands of the whole affair, and I mean it. It's +bad enough to be made a fool of once, without playing the same game a +second time," and Sir John strutted round the room like an angered +turkey. + +"Then there's no excuse for keeping young Brewer here any longer, or of +keeping you out of your bed," said the vicar, and he made for the door, +followed by Mr. Tregonning. + +Five minutes later the door closed on his guests, and Sir John found +himself once more alone. + +"Well, this is a kettle of fish," he said to himself angrily, as he +paced up and down the room; "a most infernal kettle of fish, I call it. +I shouldn't be surprised if before a week is out that young scoundrel +will be heralded by a brass band playing 'See the Conquering Hero +comes.' And, of course, every ounce of sympathy will go out to him. +He'll be a kind of martyr, and I shall be execrated as a kind of Legree +and Judge Jeffreys rolled into one. And then, of course, Dorothy will +catch the popular contagion, and will interview him if she has the +chance; and he'll make love to her--the villain! And here's Lord Probus +bullying me, and every confounded money-lending Jew in the neighbourhood +dunning me for money, and Geoffrey taking to extravagant ways with more +alacrity than I did before him. I wonder if any other man in the county +is humbugged as I am?" + +Sir John spent the rest of the waking hours of that night in scheming +how best he could get and keep Dorothy out of the way of Ralph Penlogan. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A SILENT WELCOME + + +If a man is unfortunate enough to find himself in the clutches of what +is euphemistically called "the law," the sooner and the more completely +he can school himself to patience the better for his peace of mind. +Lawyers and legislators do not appear generally to be of a mechanical +turn, and the huge machine which they have constructed for the purpose +of discovering and punishing criminals is apparently without any +reversing gear. The machine will go forward ponderously and cumbrously, +but it will not go backward without an infinite amount of toil and +trouble. Hence, if a man is once caught in its toils, even though he is +innocent, he will, generally speaking, have to go through the mill and +come out at the far end. For such a small and remote contingency as a +miscarriage of justice there is apparently no provision. If the wronged +and deluded man will only have patience, he will come out of the mill in +due course; and if he is but civil, he will be rewarded with a free +pardon and told not to do it again. + +The generosity of the State in compensating those who have been +wrongfully convicted and punished has grown into a proverb. In some +instances they have been actually released before their time has +expired--which, of course, has meant a considerable amount of work for +those who had control of the mill; and work to the highly paid officials +of the State is little less to be dreaded than the plague. + +The whole country had been ringing with Jim Brewer's story for more than +a week before the law officers of the Crown condescended to look at the +matter at all, and when they did look at it they saw so many +technicalities in the way, and so much red tape to be unwound, that +their hearts failed them. It seemed very inconsiderate of this Jim +Brewer to speak at all after he had kept silent so long, particularly as +the Grand Jury would so soon have the case before them. + +Meanwhile Ralph was waiting with as much patience as he could command +for the day of the trial. That he would be found guilty he could not +bring himself to believe. The more he reviewed the case, the more angry +and disgusted he felt with the local Solomons who had sat in judgment on +him. He was disposed almost to blame them more than he blamed the +squire. Sir John might have some grounds for supposing that he (Ralph) +had deliberately fired at him. But that the great unpaid of St. Goram +and neighbouring parishes could be so blind and stupid filled him with +disgust. + +For himself, he did not mind the long delay so much; but as the days +grew into weeks, his anxiety respecting his mother and Ruth grew into +torment. He knew that their little spare cash could not possibly hold +out many weeks, and then what would happen? + +He had heard nothing from them for a long time, and Bodmin was so far +away from St. Goram that they could not visit him. He wondered if they +had reached such straits that they could not afford a postage stamp. The +more he speculated on the matter the more alarmed he got. The letters he +had been allowed to send had received no answer. And it seemed so unlike +his mother and Ruth to remain silent if they were able to write. + +Of Jim Brewer's story he knew nothing, for newspapers did not come his +way, and none of the prison officials had the kindness to tell him. So +he waited and wondered as the slow days crept painfully past, and grew +thin and hollow-eyed, and wished that he had never been born. + +The end came nearly a month after Jim Brewer had told his story. He was +condescendingly informed one morning that his innocence having been +clearly established, the Crown would offer no evidence in support of the +charge, and the Grand Jury had therefore thrown out the bill of +indictment. This would mean his immediate liberation. + +For several moments he felt unable to speak, and he sat down and hid his +face in his hands. Then slowly the meaning of the words he had listened +to began to take shape in his mind. + +"You say my innocence has been established?" he questioned at length. + +"That is so." + +"By what means?" + +The governor told him without unnecessary words. + +"How long ago was this?" + +"I do not quite know. Not many weeks I think." + +"Not many weeks! Good heavens! You mean that I have been allowed to +suffer in this inferno after my innocence was established?" + +"With that I have nothing to do. Better quietly and thankfully take your +departure." + +Ralph raised a pair of blazing eyes, then turned on his heel. He felt as +though insult had been heaped upon insult. + +His brain seemed almost on fire when at length he stepped through the +heavy portal and found himself face to face with William Menire. + +Ralph stared at him for several moments in astonishment. Why, of all the +people in the world, should William Menire come to meet him? They had +never been friends--they could scarcely be called acquaintances. + +William, however, did not allow him to pursue this train of thought. +Springing forward at once, he grasped Ralph by the hand. + +"I made inquiries," he said, speaking rapidly, "and I couldn't find out +that anybody was coming to meet you. And I thought you might feel a bit +lonely and cheerless, for the weather is nipping cold. So I brought a +warm rug with me, and I've ordered breakfast at the King's Arms; for +there ain't no train till a quarter-past ten, and we'll be home by----" + +Then he stopped suddenly, for Ralph had burst into tears. + +The prison fare, the iron hand of the law, the bitter injustice he had +suffered so long, had only hardened him. He had shed not a single tear +during all the months of his incarceration. But this touch of human +kindness from one who was almost a stranger broke him down completely, +and he hid his face in his hands, and sobbed outright. + +William looked at him in bewilderment. + +"I hope I have not said anything that's hurt you?" he questioned +anxiously. + +"No, no," Ralph said chokingly. "It's your kindness that has unmanned me +for a moment. You are almost a stranger, and I have no claim upon you +whatever." And he began to sob afresh. + +"Oh, well, if that's all, I don't mind," William said, with a cheerful +smile. "You see, we are neighbours--at least we were. And if a man can't +do a neighbourly deed when he has a chance, he ain't worth much." + +Ralph lifted his head at length, and wiped his eyes. + +"Pardon me for being so weak," he said. "But I didn't expect----" + +"Of course you didn't," William interrupted. "I knew it would be a +surprise to you. But hadn't we better be going? I don't want the +breakfast at the King's Arms to get cold." + +"A word first," Ralph said eagerly. "Are my mother and sister well?" + +"Well, your mother is only middling--nothing serious. But the weather's +been very trying, and her appetite's nothing to speak of. And, you see, +she's worried a good deal about you." + +"And my sister?" he interposed. + +"She's very well, I believe. But let's get out of sight of this place, +or it'll be getting on my nerves." + +A quarter of an hour later they were seated in a cosy room before an +appetising breakfast of steaming ham and eggs. + +Ralph had a difficulty in keeping the tears back. The pleasant room, +hung with pictures, the cheerful fire crackling in the grate, the white +tablecloth and dainty china and polished knives and forks, the hot, +fragrant tea and the delicious ham, were such a contrast from what he +had endured so long, that he felt for a moment or two as if his emotion +would completely overcome him. + +William wisely did not look at him, but gave all his attention to the +victuals, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of seeing his guest +doing full justice to the fare. + +During the journey home they talked mainly about what had happened in +St. Goram since Ralph went away, but William could not bring himself to +tell him the truth about his mother. Again and again he got to the +point, and then his courage failed him. + +At St. Ivel Road, William's trap was waiting for them, and they drove +the two miles to St. Goram in silence. + +Suddenly Ralph reached out his hand as if to grasp the reins. + +"You are driving past our house," he said, in a tone of suppressed +excitement. + +"Yes, that's all right," William answered, in a tone of apparent +unconcern. "They're not there now." + +"Not there?" he questioned, with a gasp. + +"No. You'll come along with me for a bit." + +"But I do not understand," Ralph said, turning eager eyes on William's +face. + +"Oh, I'll explain directly. But look at the crowd of folk." + +William had to bring his horse to a standstill, for the road was +completely blocked. There was no shouting or hurrahing; no band to play +"See the Conquering Hero comes." But the men uncovered their heads, and +tears were running down the women's faces. + +Ralph had to get out of the trap to steer his way as best he could to +William's store. It was a slow and painful process, and yet it had its +compensations. Children tugged at his coat-tails, and hard-fisted men +squeezed his hand in silence, and women held up their chubby babies to +him to be kissed, and young fellows his own age whispered a word of +welcome. It was far more impressive than a noisy demonstration or the +martial strains of a brass band. Of the sympathy of the people there +could be no doubt whatever. Everybody realised now that he had been +cruelly treated--that the suspicion that rested on him at first was base +and unworthy; that he was not the kind of man to do a mean or cowardly +deed; and that the wrong that was done was of a kind that could never be +repaired. + +They wondered as they crowded round him whether he knew of the crowning +humiliation and wrong. The workhouse was a place that most of them +regarded with horror. To become a pauper was to suffer the last +indignity. There was nothing beyond it--no further reproach or shame. + +It was the knowledge that Ralph's mother was in the workhouse, and that +his little home had been broken up--perhaps for ever--that checked the +shout and turned what might have been laughter into tears. Any attempt +at merriment would have been a mockery under such circumstances. They +were glad to see Ralph back again--infinitely glad; but knowing what +they did, the pathos of his coming touched them to the quick. + +Very few words were spoken, but tears fell like rain. Ralph wondered, as +he pressed his way forward toward William Menire's shop, and yet he had +not the courage to ask any questions. Behind the people's silent +sympathy he felt there was something that had not yet been revealed. But +what it was he could not guess. That his mother and Ruth were alive, he +knew, for William had told him so. Perhaps something had happened in St. +Goram that William had not told him, which affected others more than it +affected him. + +William went in front and elbowed a passage for Ralph. + +"We be fine an' glad to see 'ee 'ome again," people whispered here and +there, and Ralph would smile and say "Thank you," and then push on +again. + +William was in a perfect fever of excitement. He had been hoping almost +against hope all the day. Whether his little scheme had succeeded or +miscarried, he could not tell yet. He would know only when he crossed +his own threshold. What his little scheme was he had confided to no one. +If it failed, he could still comfort himself with the thought that he +had done his best. But he still hoped and prayed that what he had tried +so hard to accomplish had come to pass. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WILLIAM MENIRE'S RED-LETTER DAY + + +The crowd pressed close to the door of William's shop, but no one dared +to enter. Ralph followed close upon his heels, still wondering and +fearing. William lifted the flap of his counter and opened the door of +the living-room beyond. No sooner had he done so than his heart gave a +sudden bound. Ruth Penlogan came forward with pale face and eyes full of +tears. + +William's little plan had succeeded. Ruth was present to receive her +brother. William tried to speak, but his voice failed him, and with a +sudden rush of tears he turned back into the shop, closing the door +behind him. + +Ruth fell on her brother's neck, and began to sob. He led her to a +large, antiquated sofa, and sat down by her side. He did not speak. He +could wait till she had recovered herself. She dried her eyes at length +and looked up into his face. + +"You did not expect to see me here?" she questioned. + +"No, I did not, Ruth; but where is mother?" + +"Has he not told you?" + +"Told me? She is not dead, is she?" + +"No, no. She would be happier if she were. Oh, Ralph, it breaks my +heart. I wish we had all died when father was taken." + +"But where is she, Ruth? What has happened? Do tell me." + +"She is in the workhouse, Ralph." + +He sprang to his feet as though he had been shot. + +"Ruth, you lie!" he said, almost in a whisper. + +She began to sob again, and he stood looking at her with white, drawn +face, and a fierce, passionate gleam in his eyes. + +For several moments no other word passed between them. Then he sat down +by her side again. + +"There was no help for it," she sobbed at length. "And mother was quite +content and eager to go." + +"And you allowed it, Ruth," he said, in a tone of reproach. + +"What could I do, Ralph?" she questioned plaintively. "We had spent all, +and the landlord stopped us from selling any more furniture. The parish +would allow her half a crown a week, which would not pay the rent, and I +could get nothing to do." + +He gulped down a lump that had risen in his throat, and clenched his +hands, but he did not speak. + +"She said there was no disgrace in going into the House," Ruth went on; +"that father had paid rates for more than five-and-twenty years, and +that she had a right to all she would get, and a good deal more." + +"Rights go for nothing in this world," he said bitterly. "It is the +strong who win." + +"Mrs. Menire told me this morning that her son would have trusted us to +any amount and for any length of time if he had only known." + +"You did not ask him?" + +"Mother would never consent," she replied. "Besides, Mr. Menire is a +comparative stranger to us." + +"That is true, and yet he has been a true friend to me to-day." + +"I hesitated about accepting his hospitality," Ruth answered, with her +eyes upon the floor. "He sent word yesterday that he had learned you +were to be liberated this morning, and that he was going to Bodmin to +meet you and bring you back, and that his mother would be glad to offer +me hospitality if I would like to meet you here." + +"It was very kind of him, Ruth; but where are you living?" + +"I am in service, Ralph." + +"No!" + +"It is quite true. I was bound to earn my living somehow." + +He laughed a bitter laugh. + +"Prison, workhouse, and domestic service! What may we get to next, do +you think?" + +"But we have not gone into debt or cheated anybody, and we've kept our +consciences clean, Ralph." + +"Yes, ours is a case of virtue rewarded," he answered cynically. +"Honesty sent to prison, and thrift to the workhouse." + +"But we haven't done with life and the world yet." + +"You think there are lower depths in store for us?" + +"I hope not. We may begin to rise now. Let us not despair, Ralph. +Suffering should purify and strengthen us." + +"I don't see how suffering wrongly or unjustly can do anybody any good," +he answered moodily. + +"Nor can I at present. Perhaps we shall see later on. There is one great +joy amid all our grief. Your name has been cleared." + +"Yes, that is something--better than a verdict of acquittal, eh?" and a +softer light came into his eyes. + +"I would rather be in our place, Ralph, bitter and humiliating as it is, +than take the place of the oppressor." + +"You are thinking of Sir John Hamblyn?" he questioned. + +"They say he is being oppressed now," she answered, after a pause. + +"By whom?" + +"The money-lenders. Rumour says that he has lost heavily on the Turf and +on the Stock Exchange--whatever that may be--and that he is hard put to +it to keep his creditors at bay." + +"That may account in some measure for his hardness to others." + +"He hoped to retrieve his position, it is said, by marrying his daughter +to Lord Probus," Ruth went on, "but she refuses to keep her promise." + +"What?" he exclaimed, with a sudden gasp. + +"How much of the gossip is true, of course, nobody knows, or rather how +much of it isn't true--for it is certain she has refused to marry him; +and Lord Probus is so mad that he refused to speak to Sir John or have +anything to do with him." + +Ralph smiled broadly. + +"What has become of Miss Dorothy is not quite clear. Some people say +that Sir John has sent her to a convent school in France. Others say +that she has gone off of her own free will, and taken a situation as a +governess under an assumed name." + +"Are you sure she isn't at the Manor?" he questioned eagerly. + +"Quite sure. The servants talk very freely about it. Sir John stormed +and swore, and threatened all manner of things, but she held her own. He +shouted so loudly sometimes that they could not help hearing what he +said. Miss Dorothy was very calm, but very determined. He taunted her +with being in love with somebody else----" + +"No!" + +"She must have had a very hard time of it by what the servants say. It +is to be hoped she has peace now she has got away." + +"Sir John is a brute," Ralph said bitterly. "He has no mercy on anybody, +not even on his own flesh and blood." + +"Isn't it always true that 'with what measure ye mete it shall be +measured to you again'?" Ruth questioned, looking up into his face. + +"It may be," he answered, "and yet many people suffer injustice who have +never meted it out to others." + +For a while silence fell between them, then looking up into his face she +said-- + +"Have you any plans for the future, Ralph?" + +"A good many, Ruth, but the chances are they will come to nothing. One +thing my prison experience has allowed me, and that is time to think. If +I can work out half my dreams there will be topsy-turvydom in St. +Goram." And he smiled again. + +"Then you have not given up hope?" + +"Not quite, Ruth. But first of all I must see mother and get her out of +the workhouse." + +"You will have to earn some money and take a house first. You see, +everything has gone, Ralph." + +"Which means an absolutely fresh start, and from the bottom," he +answered. "But never mind, when you build from the bottom you are pretty +sure of your foundation." + +"Oh, it does me good to hear you talk like that," she said, the tears +coming into her eyes again. + +"I hope I'm not altogether a coward, sis," he said, with a smile. "It'll +be a hard struggle, I know; but, at any rate, I have something to live +for." + +"That's bravely said." And she leant over and kissed him. + +"Now we must stop talking, and act," he went on. "I must get William +Menire to lend me his trap, and I must drive over to see mother." + +"That will be lovely, for then I can ride with you, for I must be in by +seven o'clock." + +"What?" + +"This is an extra day off, you know." + +"Are you cook, or housemaid, or what?" + +"I am sewing maid," she answered. "The Varcoes have a big family of +children, you know, and I have really as much as I can do with the +making and mending." + +"What, Varcoes the Quakers?" + +"Yes. And they have really been exceedingly kind to me. They took me +without references, and have done their best to make me comfortable. +There are some good people in the world, Ralph." + +"It would be a sorry world if there weren't," he answered. And then +William Menire and his mother entered. + +A few minutes later a substantial dinner was served, and for the next +hour William fluttered about his guests unmindful of how his customers +fared. + +Had not Ralph been so busy with his own thoughts, and Ruth so taken up +with her brother, they would have both seen in what direction William's +inclinations lay. He would gladly have kept them both if he could, and +hailed their presence as a dispensation of Providence. Ruth looked +lovelier in William's eyes than she had ever done, and to be her friend +was the supreme ambition of his life. + +He insisted on driving them to St. Hilary, but demanded as a first +condition that Ralph should return with him to St. Goram. + +"You can stay here," he said, "until you can get work or suit yourself +with better lodgings. You can't sleep in the open air, and you may as +well stay with me as with anybody else." + +This, on the face of it, seemed a reasonable enough proposition, and +with this understanding Ralph climbed into the back of the trap, Ruth +riding on the front seat with William. + +Never did a driver feel more proud than William felt that afternoon. It +was not that he was doing a kindly and neighbourly deed; there was much +more in his jubilation than that. He had by his side, so he believed, +the fairest girl in the three parishes. William watched with no ordinary +interest and curiosity the face of everyone they met, and when he saw +some admiring pairs of eyes resting upon his companion, his own eyes +sparkled with a brighter light. + +William thought very little of Ralph, who was sitting at his back, and +who kept up a conversation with Ruth over his left shoulder. It was Ruth +who filled his thoughts and awakened in his heart a new and strange +sensation. He did not talk himself. He was content to listen, content to +catch the sweet undertone of a voice that was sweeter and softer than +St. Goram bells on a stormy night; content to feel, when the trap +lurched, the pressure of Ruth's arm against his own. + +He did not drive rapidly. Why should he? This was a red-letter day in +the grey monotony of his life, a day to be remembered when business was +bad and profits small, and his mother's temper had more rough edges in +it than usual. + +So he let his horse amble along at its own sweet will. They would return +at a much smarter pace. + +William pulled up slowly at the workhouse gates. He would have helped +Ruth down if there had been any excuse or opportunity. He was sorry the +journey had come to an end. It might be long before he looked into those +soft brown eyes again. He suppressed a sigh with difficulty when Ralph +sprang out behind and helped his sister down. How much less clumsily he +could have done it himself, and how he would have enjoyed the privilege! + +"I'll put the horse up at the Star and Garter," he said, adjusting the +seat to the lighter load, "and will be waiting round there till you're +ready." + +Then Ruth came up and stood by the shafts. + +"I shall not see you again," she said, raising grateful eyes to his. +"But I should like to thank you very much for your kindness." + +"Please don't say a word about it," he answered, blushing painfully. +"The pleasure's been on my side." And he reached down and grasped Ruth's +extended hand with a vigour that left no doubt as to his sincerity. + +He did not drive away at once. He waited till Ralph and Ruth had +disappeared within the gloomy building, then, heaving a long-drawn sigh, +he touched his horse with his whip, and drove slowly down the hill +toward the Star and Garter. + +"It's very foolish of me to think about women at all," he mused, +"especially about one woman in particular. I'm not a woman's man, and +never was, and never shall be. Besides, she's good enough for the best +in the land." + +And he plucked at the reins and started the horse into a trot. + +"If I were ten years younger and handsome," he went on, "and didn't keep +a shop, and hadn't my mother to keep, and--and----But there, what's the +use of saying 'if' this and 'if' that? I'm just William Menire, and +nobody else, and there ain't her equal in the three parishes. No, I'd +better be content to jog along quietly as I've been doing for years +past. It's foolish to dream at my time of life--foolish--foolish!" And +with another sigh he let the reins slacken. + +But, foolish or not, William continued to dream, until his dreams seemed +to him the larger part of his life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A GOOD NAME + + +In a long, barrack-like room, with uncarpeted floor and whitewashed +walls, Ralph and Ruth found their mother. She was propped up with +pillows in a narrow, comfortless bed. Her hands lay listless upon the +coarse coverlet, her eyes were fixed upon the blank wall opposite, her +lips were parted in a patient and pathetic smile. + +She did not see the wall, nor feel the texture of the bedclothes, nor +hear the sound of footsteps on the uncarpeted floor. She was back again +in the old days when husband and children were about her, and hope +gladdened their daily toil, and love glorified and made beautiful the +drudgery of life. She tried not to think about the present at all, and +in the main she succeeded. Her life was in the past and in the future. +When she was not wandering through the pleasant fields of memory, and +plucking the flowers that grew in those sheltered vales, she was soaring +aloft into those fair Elysian fields which imagination pictured and +faith made real--fields on which the blight of winter never fell, and +across which storms and tempests never swept. + +She had lost all count of days, lost consciousness almost of her present +surroundings. Every day was the same--grey and sunless. There were no +duties to be done, no meals to prepare, no butter to make, no chickens +to feed, no husband to greet when the day was done, no hungry children +to come romping in from the fields. + +There were old people who had been in the workhouse so long that they +had accommodated their life to its slow routine, and who found something +to interest them in the narrowest and greyest of all worlds. But Mary +Penlogan had come too suddenly into its sombre shadow and had left too +many pleasant things behind her. + +She did not complain. There were times when she did not even suffer. The +blow had stunned her and numbed all her sensibilities. Now and then she +awoke as from a pleasant dream, and for a moment a wave of horror and +agony would sweep over her, but the tension would quickly pass. The +wound was too deep for the smart to continue long. + +She seemed in the main to be wonderfully resigned, and yet resignation +was scarcely the proper word to use. It was rather that voiceless apathy +born of despair. For her the end of the world had come; there was +nothing left to live for. Nothing could restore the past and give her +back what once she had prized so much, and yet prized all too little. It +was just a question of endurance until the Angel of Death should set her +free. + +She conformed to all the rules of the House without a murmur, and +without even the desire to complain. She slept well, on the whole, and +tried her best to eat such fare as was considered good enough for +paupers. If she wept at all she wept in secret and in the night-time; +she had no desire to obtrude her grief upon others. She even made an +earnest effort to be cheerful now and then. But all the while her +strength ebbed slowly away. The springs of her life had run dry. + +The workhouse doctor declared at first that nothing ailed her--nothing +at all. A week later he spoke of a certain lack of vitality, and wrote +an order for a little more nourishing food. A fortnight later he +discovered a certain weakness in the action of the heart, and wrote out +a prescription to be made up in the dispensary. + +Later still he had her removed to the sick-ward and placed under the +care of a nurse. It was there Ralph and Ruth found her on the afternoon +in question. + +She looked up with a start when Ralph stopped at the foot of her bed, +then, with a glad cry, she reached out her wasted arms to him. He was by +her side in a moment, with his arms about her neck, and for several +minutes they rocked themselves to and fro in silence. + +Ruth came up on the other side and sat down on a wooden chair, and for +awhile her presence was forgotten. + +"My dear, darling old mother!" Ralph said, as soon as he had recovered +himself sufficiently to speak. "I did not think it would have come to +this." + +She made no reply, but continued to rock herself to and fro. + +He drew himself away after a while and took her thin, wrinkled hands in +his. + +"You must get better now as soon as ever you can," he said, trying to +speak cheerfully, though every word threatened to choke him. + +She shook her head slowly and smiled. + +"When we get you back to St. Goram," he went on, "you'll soon pick up +your strength again, for it is only strength you need." + +She turned her head and looked up into his face and smiled pathetically. + +"If it is God's will that I should get strong again I shall not +complain," she answered, "but I would rather go Home now I am so near." + +"Oh no, we cannot spare you yet," he replied quickly; and he gulped down +a big lump that had risen in his throat. "I'm going to work in real +earnest and build a new home. I've lots of plans for the future." + +"My poor boy," she said gently, and she tapped the back of his hand with +the tips of her wasted fingers, "even if your plans succeed, life will +be a hard road still." + +"Yes, yes, I know that, mother. But to have someone to live for and care +for will make it easier." And he bent his head and kissed her. + +"God alone can tell that, my boy," she said wistfully. "But oh, you've +been a long time coming to me." + +"I wonder if it has seemed so long to you as to me?" he questioned. + +"But why did they not release you sooner?" she asked. "Oh, it seems +months ago since they told me that Jim Brewer had confessed." + +"Can anybody tell why stupid officialism ever does anything at all?" he +questioned. "Liberty is a goddess bound, and justice is fettered and +cannot run." + +"I know nothing about that," she answered slowly, "but it seemed an easy +thing to set you free when your innocence had been proved." + +"No, mother; nothing is easy when you are caught in the blind and +blundering toils of the law." + +"But what is the law for, my boy?" + +He laughed softly and yet bitterly. + +"Chiefly, it seems," he said, "to find work for lawyers; and, secondly, +to protect the interests of those who are rich enough to pay for it." + +"Oh, my boy, the bitterness of the wrong abides with you still, but God +will make all things right by and by." + +"Some things can never be made right, mother; but let us not talk of +that now. I want you to get better fast, and think of all the good times +we shall have when we get a little home of our own once more." + +"Your father will not be there," she answered sadly; "and I want to be +with him." + +"But you should think of us also, mother," he said, with a shake in his +voice. + +"I do--I do," she answered feebly and listlessly. "I have thought of you +night and day, and have never ceased to pray for you since I came here. +But you can do without me now." + +"No, no. Don't say that!" he pleaded. + +"I should have feared to leave you once," she answered; "but not now." + +"Why not now?" he questioned. + +"Ah, Ralph, my boy"--and she smoothed the back of his hand slowly and +gently--"you will never forget your father and the good name he bore. +That name is your inheritance. It is better than money--better than +houses and lands. He was one of the good men of the world--not great, +nor successful, nor even wise, as the world counts wisdom. But no shadow +of wrong, Ralph, ever stained his life. He walked with God. You will +think of this, my son, in the days that are to come. And if ever you +should be tempted to sin, the memory of your father will be like an +anchor to you. You will say to yourself, 'He bore unstained for nearly +sixty years the white flag of a blameless life, and I dare not lower it +now into the dust.'" + +"God help me, mother!" he choked. + +"God will help you, my boy. As He stood by your father and has comforted +me, so will He be your strength and defence. You and Ruth will fight all +the better for not having the burden of my presence." + +"Mother, mother, how can you say so?" Ruth interposed, with streaming +eyes. + +"I may be permitted to watch you from the hills of that Better Country," +she went on, "I and your father. But in any case, God will watch over +you." + +This was her benediction. They went away at length, sadly and silently, +but not till they reached the outer air did either of them speak. It was +Ruth who broke the silence. + +"She will never get better, Ralph." + +"Oh, nonsense, sis. She is overcome to-day, but she will pick up again +to-morrow." + +"She has been gradually failing ever since we left Hillside, and she has +never recovered any ground she lost." + +"But the spring is coming, and once we have got her out of that dismal +and depressing place, her strength will come back." + +But Ruth shook her head. + +"I don't want to discourage you," she said, "but I have watched the +gradual loosening of her hold upon life. Her heart is in heaven, Ralph, +that is the secret of it. She is longing to be with father again." + +They walked on in silence till they reached Mr. Varcoe's house, then +Ralph spoke again. + +"We must get mother out of the workhouse, and at once, whatever +happens," he said. + +"How?" she asked. + +"I don't know yet. But think of it, if she should die in the workhouse." + +"She has lived in it," Ruth answered. + +"Yes, yes; but the disgrace of it if she should end her days there." + +"If there is any disgrace in poverty, we have suffered it to the full," +Ruth answered. "Nothing that can happen now can add to it." + +For a moment he stood silent. Then he kissed her and walked away. + +He found William Menire waiting for him at the street corner, a few +yards from the Star and Garter. + +"I haven't harnessed up yet," he said. "I thought perhaps you might like +a cup of tea or a chop before we returned. Your sister, I presume, has +gone back to her--to her place?" + +"Yes, I saw her home before I came on here." + +William sighed and waited for instructions. He was willing to be servant +to Ralph for Ruth's sake. + +"I should like a cup of tea, if you don't mind," Ralph said at length, +and he coloured painfully as he spoke. He was living on charity, and the +sting of it made all his nerves tingle. + +"There's a confectioner's round the corner where they make capital tea," +William said cheerfully. And he led the way with long strides. + +The moon was up when they started on their homeward journey, and the air +was keen and frosty. Neither of them talked much. To Ralph the day +seemed like a long and more or less incoherent dream. He had dressed +that morning in the dim light of a prison cell--it seemed like a week +ago. He felt at times as though he had dreamed all the rest. + +William was dreaming of Ruth, and so did not disturb his companion. The +horse needed no whip, he seemed the most eager of the three to get home. +The fields lay white and silent in the moonlight. The bare trees flung +ghostly shadows across the road. The stars twinkled faintly in the +far-off depths of space, now and then a dove cooed drowsily in a +neighbouring wood. + +At length the tower of St. Goram Church loomed massively over the brow +of the hill, and a little later William pulled up with a jerk at his own +shop door. + +Mrs. Menire had provided supper for them. Ralph ate sparingly, and with +many pauses. This was not home. He was a stranger in a stranger's house, +living on charity. That thought stung him constantly and spoiled his +appetite. + +He tried to sleep when he got to bed, but the angel was long in coming. +His thoughts were too full of other things. The fate of his mother +worried him most. How to get her out of the workhouse and find an asylum +for her somewhere else was a problem he could not solve. He had been +promised work at St. Ivel Mine before his arrest, and he had no doubt +that he would still be able to obtain employment there. But no wages +would be paid him till the end of the month, and even then it would all +be mortgaged for food and clothes. + +He slept late next morning, for William had given orders that he was not +to be disturbed. He came downstairs feeling a little ashamed of himself. +If this was his new start in life, it was anything but an energetic +beginning. + +William was on the look-out for him, and fetched the bacon and eggs from +the kitchen himself. + +"We've had our breakfast," he explained. "You won't mind, I hope. We +knew you'd be very tired, so we kept the house quiet. I hope you've had +a good night, and are feeling all the better. Now I must leave you. +We're busy getting out the country orders. You can help yourself, I +know." And he disappeared through the frosted glass door into the shop. + +He came back half an hour later, just as Ralph was finishing his +breakfast, with a telegram in his hand. + +"I hope there ain't no bad news," he said, handing Ralph the +brick-coloured envelope. + +Ralph tore it open in a moment, and his face grew ashen. + +He did not speak for several seconds, but continued to stare with +unblinking eyes at the pencilled words. + +"Is it bad news?" William questioned at length, unable to restrain his +curiosity and his anxiety any longer. + +Ralph raised his eyes and looked at him. + +"Mother's dead," he answered, in a whisper; and then the telegram +slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor. + +William picked it up and read it. + +"Your mother found dead in bed. Send instructions _re_ disposal of +remains." + +"They might have worded the message a little less brutally," William +said at length. + +"Officialism is nothing if not brutal," Ralph said bitterly. + +Then the two men looked at each other in silence. William had little +difficulty in guessing what was passing through Ralph's mind. + +"If I were in his place," he reflected, "what should I be thinking? +Should I like my mother to be put into a parish coffin and buried in a +pauper's grave?" + +William spoke at length. + +"You'd like your mother and father to sleep together?" he questioned. + +Ralph's lips trembled, but he did not speak. + +"The world's been terribly rough on you," William went on, "but you'll +come into your own maybe by and by." + +"I shall never get father and mother back again," Ralph answered +chokingly. + +"We oughtn't to want them back again," William said; "they're better +off." + +"I wish I was better off in the same way," Ralph answered, with a rush +of tears to his eyes. + +"She held on, you see, till you came back to her," William said, after a +long pause; "then, when she got her heart's desire, she let go." + +"Dear old mother!" + +"And now that she's asleep, you'll want her to rest with your father." + +"But I've no money." + +"I'll be your banker as long as you like. Charge you interest on the +money, if you'll feel easier in your mind. Only don't let the money +question trouble you just now." + +Ralph grasped William's hand in silence. Of all the people he had known +in St. Goram, this comparative stranger was his truest friend and +neighbour. + +So it came to pass that Mary Penlogan had such a funeral as she herself +would have chosen, and in the grave of her husband her children laid her +to rest. People came from far and near to pay their last tribute of +respect. Even Sir John Hamblyn sent his steward to represent him. He was +too conscience-stricken to come himself. + +And when the grave had been filled in, the crowd still lingered and +talked to each other of the brave and patient souls whose only legacy to +their children was the heritage of an untarnished name. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A FRESH START + + +Some people said it was a stroke of good luck, others that it was an +exhibition of native genius, others still that it was the result of +having a good education, and a few that it was just a dispensation of +Providence, and nothing else. But whether luck or genius, Providence or +education, all were agreed that Ralph Penlogan had struck a vein which, +barring accidents, would lead him on to fortune. + +For six months he had worked on the "floors" of St. Ivel Mine, and +earned fourteen shillings a week thereat; but as a friendly miner and +his wife boarded and lodged him for eight shillings a week, he did not +do badly. His savings, if not large, were regular. Most months he laid +by a pound, and felt that he had taken the first step on the road to +independence, if not to fortune. + +As the weeks sped away, and springtime grew into summer, and all the +countryside lay smiling and beautiful in the warmth of the sunshine, his +spirits rose imperceptibly; the sense of injustice that had burdened him +gradually grew lighter, the bitter memory of Bodmin Gaol faded slowly +from his mind, his grief at the loss of his parents passed unconsciously +into painless resignation, and life, for its own sake, seemed to gather +a new meaning. + +He was young and strong, and in perfect health. Consequently, youth and +strength and hope and confidence asserted themselves in spite of +everything. How could he help dreaming bright dreams of the future when +the earth lay basking in beauty in the light of the summer sun, and away +at the end of the valley a triangular glimpse of the sea carried his +thoughts into the infinite? + +So strong he felt, so full of life and vitality, that nothing seemed +impossible to him. He was not impatient. He was so young that he could +afford to bide his time. He would lay the foundation slowly and with +care. He had to creep before he could walk, and walk before he could +run. + +Now and then, it is true, he had his bitter and angry moments, when the +memory of the past swept over him like an icy flood, and when a sense of +intolerable injustice seemed to wrap the world in darkness and shut out +all hope of the future. + +One such moment he had when he contracted with William Jenkins to mow +down a field of hay on Hillside Farm. He could do this only by working +overtime, which usually meant working sixteen hours a day. But he was +anxious to earn all he could, so that at the earliest possible date he +might get a little home together for himself and Ruth. + +He had not seen Hillside for many a month until the day he went to +interview William Jenkins. He knew it would cost him a pang, but he +could not afford to wait on sentiment or emotion. And yet he hardly +realised how deeply the place was enshrined in his heart until he stood +knocking at the door of the house that was once his home. + +He was glad that nobody heard his first knock. He thought he had got +beyond the reach of emotion, but it was not so. Suddenly, as a wave +rises and breaks upon the shore, a flood of memory swept over him. He +was back again in the dear dead past, with all the hopes of boyhood +dancing before his eyes. He saw his father coming up the home-close with +a smile upon his face, his mother in the garden gathering flowers with +which to decorate the table. He could almost fancy he heard Ruth singing +in the parlour as she bent over her sewing. + +Then the wave retreated, leaving him cold and numbed and breathless. It +was his home no longer. He was standing, a stranger, at the door that +once he opened by right. His eyes cleared at length, and he looked out +across the fields that he had helped to reclaim from the waste. How +familiar the landscape was! He knew every mound and curve, every bush +and tree. Could it be possible that in one short year, and less, so much +had happened? + +He pulled himself together after a few moments, and knocked at the door +again. William Jenkins started and looked confused when he saw Ralph +standing before him, for he had never been able to shake off an uneasy +feeling that he had not done a kind and neighbourly thing when he took +Hillside Farm over David Penlogan's head, even though Sir John's agent +had pressed him to do so. + +Ralph plunged into the object of his visit after a kindly greeting. + +"I hear you are letting out your hay crop to be cut," he said, "and I +came across to see if I could get the job." + +"I did not know you were out of work," Jenkins said uneasily. + +"I'm not," Ralph answered. "But I want to put in a little overtime these +long days. Besides, you know I'm used to farm work." + +"But if you work only overtime it will take you a long time to get down +the crop." + +"Oh, not so long. It's light till nearly ten o'clock. Besides, we're in +for a spell of fine weather, and a day or two longer won't make any +difference." + +"The usual price per acre, I suppose?" the farmer questioned, after a +pause. + +"Well, I presume nobody would be inclined to take less," Ralph said, +with a laugh. + +The farmer dived his hands into his pockets, contemplated the evening +sky for several minutes, took two or three long strides down the garden +path and back again, cleared his throat once or twice, and then he +said-- + +"Will waant yer money, 'spose, when the job's done?" + +"Unless you prefer to pay in advance." + +The farmer grinned, and dug a hole into the ground with his heel. + +"There ain't too much money to be made out of this place, I'm thinkin'," +he said at length. + +"Not at the price you suggest," Ralph said, with a twinkle in his eye. + +The farmer grinned again. + +"I didn't main it that way," he said, digging another hole in the +gravel. "I was thinkin' of myself. The farm ain't as good as I took it +to be." + +"But it will mend every year." + +"Ef it don't I shall wish I never see'd it. The crops are lookin' only +very middlin', I can assure 'ee." + +"Sorry to hear that. But what about the hay-field?" + +"I 'spose you've got a scythe?" + +"I can get one, in any case." + +"Well, 'spose we say done!" And Jenkins contemplated the evening sky +again with considerable interest. + +Afterwards Ralph wished that he had found work for his spare time almost +anywhere rather than on Hillside Farm. There was not a single thing that +did not remind him in some way of the past. He would raise his head +unconsciously, expecting to see his father working by his side. The +flutter of Mrs. Jenkins' print dress in the garden would cause the word +"mother" to leap to his lips unbidden, and when the daylight faded, and +the moon began to peep over the hill, he would turn his face towards the +house, fancying that Ruth was calling him to supper. + +He finished the task at length, and dropped his hard-earned silver into +his pocket. + +"It'll be a dear crop of hay for me, I'm thinkin'," Jenkins said +lugubriously. + +"It isn't so heavy as it might be," Ralph answered. "A damp spring suits +Hillside best." + +"I sometimes wish your father had it instead of me." And Jenkins twisted +his shoulders uncomfortably. + +"Father is better off," Ralph answered slowly, looking across the valley +to a distant line of hills. + +"Ay, it's to be hoped so, for there ain't much better off here, I'm +thinkin'. It's mostly worse off. And as we get owlder we feel it more 'n +more." + +"So you regret taking the farm already?" Ralph questioned almost +unconsciously. + +"I ded'n say so. We've got to make a livin' somehow, leastways we've got +to try." And he turned suddenly round and walked into the house. + +Ralph walked across the fields to interview Peter Ladock, whose farm +adjoined. He struck the boundary hedge at a point where a gnarled and +twisted oak made a feature in the landscape. Half-way over the hedge he +paused abruptly. This was the point his father had asked him to keep in +his memory, and yet until this moment he had never once thought of it. + +Not that it mattered: the county was intersected with tin lodes, iron +lodes, copper lodes, and lead lodes, and most of them would not pay for +the working. And very likely this lode, if it existed--for, after all, +his father had had very little opportunity of demonstrating its +existence--would turn out to be no better than the rest. + +For a moment he paused to draw an imaginary line to the chimney-top, as +his father had instructed him, then he sprang off the hedge into +Ladock's field and made his way towards his house. Peter, who knew his +man, agreed to pay Ralph by the hour, and he could work as many hours as +he liked. + +To one less strong and healthy than Ralph it would have been killing +work; but he did not seem to take any harm. Once a week came Sunday, and +during that day he seemed to regain all that he had lost. Fortunately, +too, during harvest-time the farmers provided extra food. There was +"crowst" between meals, and supper when they worked extra late. + +No sooner was the hay crop out of the way than the oats and barley began +to whiten in the sunshine, and then the wheat began to bend its head +before the sickle. + +Ralph quadrupled his savings during the months of June, July, and +August, and before September was out he had taken a cottage and begun to +furnish it. + +Bice had a few things left that once belonged to his mother and father. +Ralph pounced upon them greedily, and bought them cheaply from the +assistant when Bice was out. + +On the first Saturday afternoon he had at liberty he went to St. Hilary +to interview his sister. Ruth was on the look-out for him. She had got +the afternoon off, and was eager to look into his eyes again. It was +nearly three months since she had seen him. + +She met him with a glad smile and eyes that were brimful of happy tears. + +"How well you look," she said, looking up into his strong, sunburnt +face. "I was afraid you were working yourself to death." + +"No fear of that," he said, with a laugh; "it is not work that kills, +you know, but worry." + +"And you are not worrying?" she asked. + +"Not now," he answered. "I think I'm fairly started, and, with hard work +and economy, there is no reason why we should not jog along comfortably +together." + +"And you are still of the same mind about my keeping house for you?" + +"Why, what a question! As if I would stay a day longer in 'diggings' +than I could help." + +"Are you not comfortable?" she questioned, glancing anxiously up into +his face. + +"Yes, when at work or asleep." + +"There is still another question," she said at length, with a smile. + +"And that?" + +"You may want to get married some time, and then I shall be in the way." + +He laughed boisterously for a moment, and then his face grew grave. + +"I shall never marry," he said at length. "At least, that is my present +conviction." + +She regarded him narrowly for a moment, and wondered. There came a look +into his eyes which she could not understand--a far-away, pathetic look, +such as is seen in the eyes of those who have loved and lost. + +Ruth was curious. Being a woman, she could not help it. Who was there in +St. Goram likely to touch her brother's fancy? Young men who have never +been in love often talk freely about getting married. + +She changed the subject a few minutes later, and carefully watched the +effect of her words. + +"I suppose nothing has been heard in St. Goram of Miss Dorothy?" + +"No," he said hurriedly. "Have you heard anything?" And he looked at her +with eager eyes, while the colour deepened on his cheeks. + +"I am not in the way of hearing St. Goram news," she said, with a smile. + +He drew in his breath sharply, and turned away his eyes, and for several +minutes neither of them spoke again. + +Ruth began unconsciously to put two and two together. She had heard of +such things--read of them in books. Fate was often very cruel to the +most deserving. Unlikelier things had happened. Dorothy was exceedingly +pretty, and since her accident she had revealed traits of character that +scarcely anyone suspected before. Ralph had been thrown into very close +contact at the most impressionable part of his life. He had succoured +her when she was hurt, carried her in his arms all the way from +Treliskey Plantation to the cross roads. Nor was that all. She had +discovered him after his accident, and when the doctor arrived on the +scene, he was lying with his head on her lap. + +If he had learned to love her, it might not be strange, but it would be +an infinite pity, all the same. The cruel irony of it would be too sad +for words. Of course, he would get over it in time. The contempt he felt +for Sir John, the difference in their social position, and last, but not +least, the fact that she had been effectually banished from Hamblyn +Manor, and that there was no likelihood of their meeting again, would +all help him to put her out of his heart and out of his life. +Nevertheless, if her surmise was correct, that Dorothy Hamblyn had +stolen his heart, she could quite understand him saying that he did not +intend to marry. + +"Poor Ralph!" she said to herself, with a sigh. And then she began to +talk about the things that would be needed in their new home. + +Ruth had saved almost the whole of her nine months' wages, which, added +to what Ralph had saved, made quite a respectable sum. To lay it out to +the best advantage might not be easy. She wanted so many things that he +saw no necessity for, while he wanted things that she pronounced +impossible. + +On the whole, however, they had a very happy time in spending their +savings and getting the little cottage in order. Everything, of course, +was of the cheapest and simplest. They attended most of the auction +sales within a radius of half a dozen miles, and some very useful things +they got for almost nothing. + +Both of them were in the best of spirits. Ruth looked forward with great +eagerness to the time of her release from service; not that she was +overworked, while nobody could be kinder to her than her mistress. +Nevertheless, a sense of servitude pressed upon her constantly. She had +lived all her life before in such an atmosphere of freedom, and had +pictured for herself a future so absolutely different, that it was not +easy to accommodate herself to the straitened ways of service. + +Ralph was weary of "diggings," and was literally pining for a home of +his own. He had endured for six months, because he had been lodged and +boarded cheap. He had shown no impatience while nothing better was in +sight, but when the cottage was actually taken, and some items of +furniture had been moved into it, he began to count the days till he +should take full possession. + +He went to bed, to dream of soft pillows and clean sheets, and dainty +meals daintily served; of a bright hearth, and an easy-chair in which he +might rest comfortably when the long evenings came; of a sweet face that +should sit opposite to him; and, above all, of quietness from the noisy +strife of quarrelsome and unruly children. + +Ruth returned from St. Hilary on the first of October--a rich, mellow +day, when all the earth seemed to float in a golden haze. William Menire +discovered that he had business in St. Hilary that day, and that it +would be quite convenient for him to bring Ruth and her boxes in his +trap. He put the matter so delicately that Ruth could not very well +refuse. + +It was a happy day for William when he drove through St. Goram with Ruth +sitting by his side, and a happy day for Ruth when she alighted at the +garden gate of their little cottage, and caught the light of a new hope +in her brother's eyes. + +It was a fresh start for them both, but to what it might lead they did +not know--nor even desire to know. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE ROAD TO FORTUNE + + +No sooner had Ralph got settled in his new home than his brain began to +work with renewed energy and vigour. He began making experiments again +in all sorts of things. He built a rough shed at the back of the +cottage, and turned it into a laboratory. He spent all his spare time in +trying to reduce some of his theories to practice. + +Moreover, he got impatient of the slow monotony of day labour. He did +not grumble at the wages. Possibly he was paid as much as he deserved, +but he did chafe at the horse-in-the-mill kind of existence. To do the +same kind of thing day after day, and feel that an elephant or even an +ass might be trained to do it just as well, was from his point of view +humiliating. He wanted scope for the play of other faculties. He was not +a mule, with so much physical strength that might be paid for at so much +per hour; he was a man, with brains and intelligence and foresight. So +he began to look round him for some other kind of work, and finally he +took a small contract which kept him and three men he employed busy for +two months, and left him at the end twenty-eight shillings and ninepence +poorer than if he had stuck to his day labour. + +He was nothing daunted, however. Indeed, he was a good deal encouraged. +He was afraid at one time that he would come out of his contract in +debt. He worked considerably more hours than when he was a day labourer, +and he was inclined to think that he worked considerably harder, and +there was less money at the end; but he was far happier because he was +infinitely more interested. + +Ruth, who had been educated in a school of the strictest economy, +managed to make both ends meet, and with that she was quite content. She +had great faith in her brother. She liked to see him busy with his +experiments. It kept him out of mischief, if nothing else. But that was +not all. She believed in his ultimate success. In what direction she did +not know, but he was not commonplace and humdrum. He was not willing to +jog along in the same ruts from year's end to year's end without knowing +the reason why. She rejoiced in his impatience and discontent, for she +recognised that there was something worthy and even heroic behind. +Discontent under certain circumstances and conditions might be +noble--almost divine. She wished sometimes that she had more of his +spirit. + +She never uttered a word of complaint if he gave her less money to keep +house upon, never hinted that his experiments were too expensive +luxuries for their means. Something would grow out of his enterprise and +enthusiasm by and by. He had initiative and vision and judgment, and +such qualities she felt sure were bound to tell in the end. + +When Ralph had finished his first contract he took a second, and did +better by it. He learned by experience, as all wise men do, and gathered +confidence in himself as the result. + +With the advent of spring rumours got into circulation that a large and +wealthy company had been formed for the purpose of developing +Perranpool. + +A few years previously it had been only a fishing village, distinguished +mainly for the quality of its pilchards. But some London journalist, who +during a holiday time spent a few days there, took it into his head to +turn an honest penny by writing a friendly article about it. It is to be +presumed he meant all he said, for he said a great deal that many people +wondered at. But, in any case, the article was well written and was +widely quoted from. + +The result was that the following year nearly every fisherman's wife had +to turn lodging-house keeper, and not being spoiled by contact with the +ordinary tripper, these worthy men and women made their visitors +comfortable with but small profit to themselves. + +The next year a still larger number of people came, for they had heard +that Perranpool was not only secluded and salubrious, but also +remarkably cheap. + +That was the beginning of Perranpool's fame. Every year more and more +people came to enjoy its sunshine and build sand-castles on its beach. +Houses sprang up like mushrooms, most of them badly built, and all of +them entirely hideous. A coach service was established between it and +the nearest railway station, a company was formed for the purpose of +supplying gas at a maximum charge for a minimum candle-power, while +another company brought water from a distance, so rich in microbes that +the marvel was that anyone drank it and lived. + +Since then things have further improved. A branch railway has been +constructed, and two or three large hotels have been built, a Local +Board has been formed, and the rates have been quadrupled. A "Town Band" +plays during the season an accompaniment to the song the wild waves +sing, and the picturesque sea-front has given place to an asphalted +promenade. At the time of which we write, however, the promenade existed +only in imagination, and some of the older houses were threatened by the +persistently encroaching sea. + +So a company was formed for the purpose of building a breakwater and a +pier, and for the purpose of developing a large tract of land it had +acquired along the sea-front, and tenders were invited for the carrying +out of certain specified work. + +None of the tenders, however, were accepted. There was no stone in the +neighbourhood fit for the purpose, and to bring granite from the distant +quarries meant an expense that was not to be thought of. The directors +of the company began to feel sick. The debenture holders were eating up +the capital, and the ordinary shareholders were clamouring for a +dividend, while the sea threatened to eat up the land. + +Meanwhile Ralph Penlogan had been looking at a huge heap of gravel and +mica and blue clay which had been accumulating during three generations +on the side of a hill some two or three miles inland. Every day and all +the year round men pushed out small trucks and tipped their contents +over the brow of this huge barrow. Every year the great heap extended +its base, engulfing hedges and meadows and even plantations. There was +no value in this waste whatever. In fact, it involved the company in a +loss, for they had to pay for the land it continued to engulf. Anyone +who liked to cart away a few loads for the purpose of gravelling his +garden-path was at liberty to do so. The company would have been +grateful if the whole mass of it could have been carted into the sea. + +Ralph got a wheelbarrowful of the stuff and experimented with it. Then +he wrote to the chairman of the company and asked permission to use some +of the waste heap for building purposes--a permission which was at once +granted. In fact, the chairman intimated that the more he could use the +more he--the chairman--and his co-directors would be pleased. + +Ralph's next step was to interview a local contractor who was very +anxious to build the new sea-wall and pier. The result of that interview +was that the contractor sent in a fresh tender, not to build the wall of +granite, but with a newly discovered concrete, which could be +manufactured at a very small cost, and which would serve the purposes of +the company even better than granite itself. + +Ralph registered his invention or discovery, got his concession from the +Brick, Tile, and Clay Company into the best legal form possible, and +then commenced operations. + +Telfer, the contractor, who was delighted with the quality of the +concrete, financed Ralph at the start, and helped him in every way in +his power. + +The Perranpool Pier and Land Company, after testing the new material in +every way known to them, accepted Telfer's tender, and the great work +was commenced forthwith. + +In a couple of months Ralph had as many men at work as he had room for. +Telfer had laid a light tram-line down the valley, and as fast as the +blocks were manufactured they were run down to Perranpool. + +Ralph was in high spirits. Having the material for nothing, and water in +abundance, he was able to manufacture his concrete even cheaper than he +had calculated. In fact, his profits were so good that he increased the +wages of his hands all round, and got more work out of them in +consequence. + +Robert Telfer, however, who was much more of a man of the world than +Ralph, was by no means satisfied with the condition of affairs. He +foresaw contingencies that never occurred to the younger man. + +"Look here," he said to Ralph one day, "you ought to turn out much more +stuff than you are doing." + +"Impossible," Ralph answered. "I have so many men at work that they are +getting in each other's way as it is." + +"But why not double your shifts? Let one lot get in at six and break off +at two, and the second come in at two and leave off at ten." + +"I never thought of that," Ralph answered. + +"Well, you take my advice. There's an old proverb, you know, about +making hay while the sun shines." + +"But the sun will shine as long as you take my concrete." + +"Don't be too sure of that." + +"How?" Ralph said, glancing up with questioning eyes. + +"The raw material may give out." + +Ralph laughed. + +"Why, there's stuff enough to last a hundred years," he said. + +"That may be; but don't be too sure that you will be allowed to use it." + +"Do you mean to suggest that the company will attempt to go behind their +agreement?" + +"More unlikely things have happened." + +"Then you have heard something?" + +"Nothing very definite. But some of the shareholders are angry at seeing +you make money." + +"But the stuff has been lying waste for generations, and accumulating +year by year. They rather gain than lose by letting me use it up." + +"But some of them are asking why they cannot use it themselves." + +"Well, let them if they know how." + +"You have patented your discovery?" + +"I have tried, but our patent laws are an outrage." + +"Exactly. And, after all, there's not much mystery in concrete." + +"Well?" he said, in a tone of inquiry. + +"Well, before you are aware you may have competition, or, as I said just +now, the raw material may run out." + +"I cannot conceive that honourable men will try to go behind their +promise." + +"As individuals, no; but you are dealing with a company." + +"Well, what is the difference?" + +Mr. Telfer laughed. + +"There ought to be no difference, I grant. Nevertheless, you will find +out as you grow older that companies and corporations and committees +will do what as single individuals they would never dream of doing. When +men are associated with a hundred others, the sense of individual +responsibility disappears. Companies or corporations have neither souls +nor consciences. You, as an individual, would not settle a dispute with +a revolver, or at the point of a sword. Possibly you think duelling a +crime, yet as a member of a community or nation you would possibly +applaud an appeal to arms in any quarrel affecting our material +interests." + +"Possibly I should," Ralph answered, looking thoughtful. + +"Then you see what I am driving at?" + +"And you advise making the most of my opportunity?" + +"I do most certainly. I don't deny I may be selfish in this. I want as +much of the stuff as I can buy at the present price. Nobody else can +make it as cheaply as you are doing." + +"Why not?" + +"First, because you are on good terms with your men, and are getting the +most out of them. Second, because you have no expenses to pay--that is, +you have no salaries to pay or directors to fee." + +"I'll think about it," Ralph said, and the interview came to an end. + +A week later he doubled his shift. He had no difficulty in getting men, +for the pay was good and the work was in the open air, and in no sense +of the word dangerous. + +He was on the spot nearly all the time himself. He left nothing to +chance. He delegated none of his own work to other people. Ruth saw very +little of him; he was off over the hill early in the morning, and he did +not return home till late at night. + +She understood he was prospering, but his prosperity made no difference +to their style of living. He was too fully occupied to think of anything +but his work, and too much of a man to be spoiled by a few months of +success. + +He had taken Mr. Telfer's advice, and was doubling his output, but he +was still of opinion that no attempt would be made to get behind the +concession that had been granted to him by the Brick, Tile, and Clay +Company. + +As the days passed away and grew into weeks and months, and he heard +nothing from the chairman or any of the directors, or of any +investigation, he was more than ever convinced that Mr. Telfer's fears +were entirely without foundation. + +It might be quite true that individual shareholders rather resented his +making money out of stuff that they threw away as waste. But, on the +whole, as far as he was able to judge, people appeared rather to rejoice +that the tide had turned in his favour. He had thought rather hard +things of some of his neighbours at one time, and it was still true that +they were more friendly disposed towards him in his prosperity than in +his adversity, but, on the whole, they were genuine, good-hearted +people, and none of them appeared to envy him his little bit of success. + +Sometimes William Menire took himself to task for not rejoicing as +heartily in Ralph's success as he felt he ought to do. But William had a +feeling that the more the Penlogans prospered the farther they would get +away from him. He pictured to himself, almost with a shudder, a time +when they would go to live in a big house and keep servants, and perhaps +drive their own carriage; while he, as a village shopkeeper, might be +allowed to call round at their back door for orders. + +If they remained poor, he might still help them in trifling things and +in unnoticeable ways; might continue on visiting terms with them; might +have the pleasure now and then of looking into Ruth's honest eyes; might +even reckon himself among their friends. + +But if they prospered, the whole world might be changed for him. Not +that he ever cherished any foolish hopes, or indulged in impossible +dreams. Had he been ten years younger, without a mother to keep, dreams +of love and matrimony might have floated before his vision. But +now----Well, such dreams were not for him. + +This is what he told himself constantly, and yet the dreams came back in +spite of everything. + +So the weeks and months slipped rapidly and imperceptibly away, and +everybody said that Ralph Penlogan was a lucky fellow, and that he had +struck a vein that was bound to lead on to fortune. + +But, meanwhile, directors had been arguing, and almost fighting, and +lawyers had been putting their heads together, and counsel's opinion had +been taken, and the power of the purse had been measured and discussed, +and even religious people had debated the question as to how far a +promise should be allowed to stand in the way of their material +interests, and whether even a legal obligation might not be evaded if +there was a chance of doing it. + +Unfortunately for Ralph, time had allayed all his suspicions, so that +when the blow fell, it found him unprepared, in spite of his +consultation with Mr. Telfer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +LAW AND LIFE + + +"Promises, like piecrust, are made to be broken," so runs the proverb, +and the average man repeats it without a touch of cynicism in his tones. +If you can keep your promise without loss or inconvenience to yourself, +then do it by all means; but if you cannot, invent some excuse and get +out of it. Most men place their material interests before everything +else. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness," is a +saying that few people regard to-day. The children of this age think +they have found a more excellent way. "Seek ye first the kingdom of this +world and the policy thereof," is the popular philosophy. + +Lawyers and statesmen are busily engaged in taking the "nots" out of the +Ten Commandments and putting them into the Sermon on the Mount, and this +not only in their own interests, but chiefly in the interests of rich +clients and millionaire trusts. "The race is not to the swift, nor the +battle to the strong," says the Bible. The modern method of +interpretation is to take the "not" out. It makes sense out of nonsense, +say the children of this world; for anyone with half an eye can see that +the "not" must have crept in by mistake, for the race is to the swift, +and the strong always win the battle. + +"The meek shall inherit the earth," said the Teacher of Nazareth; but +the modern interpreter, with the map of the world spread out before him, +shakes his head. There is evidently something wrong somewhere. Possibly +there is exactly the right number of "nots" in the Bible, but they have +been wrongly distributed. + +"The meek shall inherit the earth"? Look at England. Look at South +Africa. Look at the United States. The meek shall inherit the earth? +Take a "not" out of the Ten Commandments, where there are several too +many, and put it into the gap, then you have a statement that is in +harmony with the general experience of the world. + +When Ralph received a polite note from the chairman of the Brick, Tile, +and Clay Company, that from that date his directors would no longer hold +themselves bound by the terms of the concession they had made, he felt +that he might as well retire first as last from the scene; and, but for +Mr. Telfer, he would have done so. + +Mr. Telfer's contention was that he had a good point in law, and that it +would be cowardly "to fling up the sponge" without a legal decision. + +Ralph smiled and shook his head. + +"I have no respect for what you call the law," he said, a little +bitterly. "I have tasted its quality, and want no more of it." + +"But what is the law for, except to preserve our rights?" Mr. Telfer +demanded. + +"Whose rights?" Ralph questioned. + +"Why, your rights and mine, and everybody's." + +Ralph shook his head again. + +"I fear I have no rights," he said. + +"No rights?" Mr. Telfer demanded hotly. + +"Put it to yourself," Ralph said quietly. "What rights has a poor man; +or, if he thinks he has, what chance has he of defending them if they +are threatened by the rich and powerful?" + +"But is not justice the heritage of the poor?" Mr. Telfer asked. + +"In theory it is so, no doubt; but not in practice. To get justice in +these days, you must spend a fortune in lawyers' fees--and probably you +won't get it then. But the poor have no fortune to spend." + +"I'll admit that going to law is a very expensive business; but what is +one to do?" + +"Grin and abide." + +"Oh, but that is cowardly!" + +"It may be so. And yet, I do not see much heroism in running your head +against a stone wall." + +"But is it manly to sit down quietly and be robbed?" + +"That all depends on who the robbers are. If there are ten to one, I +should say it would be the wisest policy to submit." + +"I admit that the company is a powerful one. But it is a question with +me whether they have any right to the stuff at all. Their sett extends +from the line of Cowley's farm westward; but their tip has come a +quarter of a mile eastward. For years past they have had to pay for the +right of tipping their waste. In point of law, it isn't their stuff at +all. It isn't even on their land--the land belongs to Daniel Rickard." + +"That may be quite true," Ralph answered; "but I can't think that will +help us very much." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I heard this morning they were negotiating with Daniel for the +purchase of his little freehold." + +Mr. Telfer looked grave. + +"In any case," he said, "I would get counsel's opinion. Why not run up +to London and consult Sir John Liskeard? He is our member, you know, and +in your case his charge would not be excessive. You can afford to spend +something to know where you stand. I believe in dying game." And with a +wave of his hand, Mr. Telfer marched away. + +Two days later Ralph got a second letter from the chairman of the Brick, +Tile, and Clay Company which was much less conciliatory in tone. In +fact, it intimated, in language too plain to be misunderstood, that the +company held him guilty of trespass, and that by continuing his work +after the previous intimation he was rendering himself liable to an +action at law. + +Ralph toiled over the fields towards his home in a brown study. That the +letter was only bluff he knew, but it seemed clear enough that if he +resisted, the company was determined to fight the case in a court of +law. + +What to do for the best he could not decide. To fight the case would +probably ruin him, for even if he won, he would have to spend all his +savings in law expenses. To throw up the sponge at the outset would +certainly look cowardly. The only other alternative would be to try to +make terms with the company, to acknowledge their right, and to offer to +pay for every ton of stuff he used. + +When he got home he found Mary Telfer keeping his sister company. Mary +had been a good deal at the cottage lately. Ruth liked her to come; they +had a great deal in common, and appeared to be exceedingly fond of each +other. Mary was a bright, pleasant-faced girl of about Ralph's age. She +was not clever--she made no pretension in that direction; but she was +cheerful and good-tempered and domesticated. Moreover, as the only child +of Robert Telfer, the contractor, she was regarded as an heiress in a +small way. + +Ruth sometimes wondered whether, in the economy of nature, Mary might +not be her brother's best friend. Ralph would want a wife some day. She +did not believe in men remaining bachelors. They were much more happy, +much more useful, and certainly much less selfish when they had a wife +and family to maintain. + +Nor was that all; she had strong reasons for believing that Ralph had +been smitten with a hopeless passion for Dorothy Hamblyn. She did not +blame him in the least. Dorothy was so pretty and so winsome that it was +perhaps inevitable under the circumstances. But the pity of it and the +tragedy of it were none the less on that account. Hence, anything that +would help him in his struggle to forget was to be welcomed. For that +Ralph was honestly trying to put Dorothy Hamblyn out of his memory and +out of his heart, she fully believed. + +For months now he had never mentioned the squire or his "little maid." +Now and then Ruth would repeat the gossip that was floating about St. +Goram, but if he took any interest in it, he made no sign. + +Dorothy had never once come back since she was sent away. Whether she +was still at school, or had become a nun, or was living with friends, no +one appeared to know. Sir John kept his own counsel, and politely +snubbed all inquisitive persons. + +That Sir John was in a tight corner was universally believed. He had +reduced his household to about one-third its previous dimensions, had +dismissed half his gardeners and gamekeepers, had sold his hunters, and +in several other ways was practising the strictest economy. All this +implied that financially he was hard up. + +He got no sympathy, however, except from a few people of his own class. +He had been such a hard landlord, so ready to take every mean advantage, +so quick in raising rents, so slow in reducing them, that when he began +to have meted out to him what he had so long meted out to others, there +was rejoicing rather than sympathy. + +Ralph naturally could not help hearing the talk of the neighbourhood, +but he made no comment. Whether he was glad or sorry no one knew. As a +matter of fact, he hardly knew himself. For Sir John he had no sympathy. +He could see him starve without a pang. But there was another who loved +him, who would share his sufferings and be humbled in his humiliation, +and for her he was sorry. So he refused to discuss the squire's affairs, +either with Ruth or anyone else. He was fighting a hard battle--how hard +no one knew but himself. He did his best to avoid everything that would +remind him of Dorothy, did his best in every way to forget her. +Sometimes he found himself longing with an inexpressible desire for a +sight of her face, and yet on the whole he was exceedingly grateful that +she did not return to St. Goram. Time and distance had done something. +She was not so constantly in his thoughts as she used to be. He was not +always on the look-out for her, and he never started now, fancying it +was her face he saw in the distance; and yet he was by no means +confident that he would ever gain the victory. + +If he never saw her in his waking moments she came to him constantly in +his dreams. And, curiously enough, in his dreams there was never any +barrier to their happiness. In dreamland social distinctions did not +exist, and hard and tyrannical fathers were unknown. In dreamland happy +lovers went their own way unhindered and undisturbed. In dreamland it +was always springtime, and sickness and old age were never heard of. So +if memory were subdued in the daytime, night restored the balance. +Dorothy lived in his heart in spite of every effort to put her away. + +The sight of Mary Telfer's pleasant and smiling face on the evening in +question was a pleasant relief after the worries and annoyances of the +day. Mary was brimful of vivacity and good-humour, and Ralph quickly +caught the contagion of her cheerful temper. + +She knew all the gossip of the neighbourhood, and retailed it with great +verve and humour. Ralph laughed at some of the incidents she narrated +until the tears ran down his face. + +Then suddenly her mood changed, and she wanted to know if Ralph was +going to fight the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company. + +"What would you do if you were in my place?" Ralph questioned, with a +touch of banter in his voice. + +"Fight to the last gasp," she answered. + +"And what after that?" + +"Oh, that is a question I should never ask myself." + +"Then you don't believe in looking far ahead?" + +"What's the use? If you look far enough you'll see a tombstone, and +that's not cheerful." + +"Then you'd fight without considering how the battle might end?" + +"Why not? If you are fighting for principle and right, you have to risk +the cost and the consequences." + +"But to go to war without counting the cost is not usually considered +good statesmanship." + +"Oh, isn't it? Well, you see, I'm not a statesman--I'm only a woman. But +if I were a man I wouldn't let a set of bullies triumph over me." + +"But how could you help it if they were stronger than you?" + +"At any rate, I'd let them prove they were stronger before I gave in." + +"Then you don't believe that discretion is the better part of valour?" + +"No, I don't. Not only isn't it the better part of valour, it isn't any +part of valour. Besides, we are commanded to resist the devil." + +"Then you think the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company is the devil?" + +"I think it is doing the devil's work, and such meanness and wickedness +ought to be exposed and resisted. What's the world coming to if +gentlemen go back on their own solemn promises?" + +"It's very sad, no doubt," Ralph said, with a smile. "But, you see, they +are a hundred to one, and, however much right I may have on my side, in +the long-run I shall have to go under." + +"Then you have no faith in justice?" + +"Not in the justice of the strong." + +"But if you have the law on your side you are bound to win." + +He laughed good-humouredly. + +"Did you ever know any law," he said, "that was not in the interests of +the rich and powerful?" + +"I never gave the matter a thought," she answered. + +"If you had to spend a month in prison with nothing particular to do," +he laughed, "you would give more thought to the matter than it is +worth." + +She laughed heartily at that, and then the subject dropped. + +A little later in the evening, when they were seated at the +supper-table, Ruth remarked-- + +"Mary Telfer is like a ray of sunshine in the house." + +"Is she always bright?" Ralph questioned indifferently. + +"Always. I have never seen her out of temper or depressed yet." + +"Very likely she has nothing to try her," he suggested. + +"It's not only that, it's her nature to be cheerful and optimistic. +He'll be a fortunate man who marries her." + +"Is she going to be married soon?" + +"Not that I'm aware of," Ruth answered, looking up with a start. "I +don't think she's even engaged." + +"Oh, I beg pardon. I thought you meant----" + +"I was only speaking generally," Ruth interrupted. "Mary Telfer, in my +judgment, is a girl in a thousand--bright, cheerful, domesticated, +and--and----" + +"Gilt-edged?" Ralph suggested. + +"Well, she will not be penniless." + +That night as Ralph lay awake he recalled his conversation with Ruth, +and almost heard in fancy the bright, rippling laughter of Mary Telfer; +and for the first time a thought flashed across his mind which grew +bigger and bigger as the days and weeks passed away. + +Would it be possible to put Dorothy Hamblyn out of his heart by trying +to put another in her place? Would the beauty of her face fade from his +memory if he constantly looked upon another face? Would he forget her if +he trained himself to think continually of someone else? + +These were questions that he could not answer right off, but there might +be no harm in making the experiment--at least, there might be no harm to +himself, but what about Mary? + +So he found himself faced by a number of questions at the same time, and +for none of them could he find a satisfactory answer. + +Then came an event in his life which he anticipated with a curious +thrill of excitement, and that was a journey to London. He almost shrank +from the enterprise at first. He had heard and read so much about +London--about its bigness, its crowds, its bewildering miles of streets, +its awful loneliness, its temptations and dangers, its squalor and +luxury, its penury and extravagance--that he was half afraid he might be +sucked up as by a mighty tide, and lost. + +There seemed, however, no other course open to him. He had tried to come +to terms with the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company, had offered to pay them +a royalty on all the stuff he manufactured, to purchase from them all +the raw material he used. But every offer, every suggestion of a +compromise, was met with a stern and emphatic negative. + +So he decided to take Mr. Telfer's advice, and consult Sir John +Liskeard. In order to do this he would have to make a journey to London. +How big with fate that journey was he little guessed at the time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +IN LONDON TOWN + + +Ralph remained in London considerably longer than he had intended. Sir +John Liskeard was a very busy man, and the questions raised by Ralph +required time to consider. The equity of the case was simple and +straightforward enough; the law was quite another matter. Moreover, as +Sir John had been asked to give not merely a legal opinion, but some +friendly advice, the relative strength of the litigants had to be taken +into account. + +Sir John was anxious to do his best for his young client. Ralph appeared +to be a coming man in the division he represented in Parliament, and as +Sir John's majority on the last election was only a narrow one, he was +naturally anxious to do all he could to strengthen his position in the +constituency. Hence he received Ralph very graciously, got him a seat +under the gallery during an important debate in the House of Commons, +took him to tea on the Terrace, pointed out to him most of the political +celebrities who happened to be in attendance at the House, and +introduced him to a few whom Ralph was particularly anxious to meet. + +Fresh from the country and from the humdrum of village life, with palate +unjaded and all his enthusiasms at the full, this was a peculiarly +delightful experience. It was pleasant to meet men in the flesh whom he +had read about in books and newspapers, pleasant to breathe--if only for +an hour--a new atmosphere, charged with a subtle energy he could not +define. + +Of course, there were painful disillusionments. Some noted people--in +appearance, at any rate--fell far short of his expectations. Great men +rose in the House to speak, and stuttered and spluttered the weakest and +emptiest platitudes. Honourables and right honourables and noble lords +appeared, in many instances, to be made of very common clay. + +Ralph found himself wondering, as many another man has done, as he sat +watching and listening, by what curious or fatuous fate some of these +men in the gathering ever climbed into their exalted positions. + +He put the question to Sir John when he had an opportunity. + +"Most of them do not climb at all," was the laughing answer. "They are +simply pitchforked." + +"But surely it is merit that wins in a place like this?" + +Sir John laughed again. + +"In some cases, no doubt. For instance, you see that short, thick-set +man yonder. Well, he's one of the most effective speakers in the House. +A few years ago he was a working shoemaker. Then you see that +white-headed man yonder, with large forehead and deep, sad-looking eyes. +Well, he was a village schoolmaster for thirty years, and now he is +acknowledged to be one of the ablest men we have. Then there is Blank, +in the corner seat there below the gangway, a most brilliant fellow--a +farmer's son, without any early advantages at all. But I don't suppose +that either of them will ever get into office, or into what you call an +exalted position." + +"But why not?" + +"Ah, well"--and Sir John shrugged his shoulders--"you see, the ruling +classes in this country belong to--well, to the ruling classes." + +"But I thought ours was a purely democratic form of government?" + +"It is. But the democracy dearly love a lord. They have no faith in +their own order. The ruling classes have; so they remain the ruling +classes. And who can blame them?" + +"Still, when so much is at stake, the best men ought to be at the head +of affairs." + +"Possibly they are--that is, the best available men. Tradition goes for +a good deal in a country like this. Certain positions are filled, as a +matter of course, by people of rank. An historic name counts for a good +deal." + +"But suppose the bearer of the historic name should happen to be a +fool?" + +"Oh, well, we muddle through somehow. Get an extra war or two, perhaps, +and an addition to the taxes and to the national debt. But we are a +patient people, and don't mind very much. Besides, the majority of the +people are easily gulled." + +"Then promotion goes by favour?" Ralph questioned after a pause. + +"Why, of course it does. Did you ever doubt it? Take the case of the +Imperial Secretary. Does any sane man in England, irrespective of creed +or party, imagine for a moment that he would have got into that position +if he had not been the nephew of a duke?" + +"But isn't he a capable man?" + +"Capable?"--and Sir John shrugged his shoulders again. "Why, if he had +to depend on his own merits he wouldn't earn thirty shillings a week in +any business house in the City." + +Ralph walked away from the House of Commons with a curious feeling of +elation and disappointment. He had been greatly delighted in some +respects, and terribly disappointed in others. + +In St. James's Park he sat down in the shadow of a large chestnut tree +and tried to sort out his emotions. He had been in London three days, +but had scarcely got his bearings yet. Everything was very new, very +strange, and very wonderful. On the whole, he thought he would be very +glad to get away from it. It seemed to him the loneliest place on earth. +On every side there was the ceaseless roar of traffic, like the breaking +of the sea, and yet there was not a friendly face or a familiar voice +anywhere in all the throng. + +Suddenly he started and leaned eagerly forward. That was a familiar +face, surely, and a familiar voice. Two people passed close to where he +sat--a young man and a young woman. Her skirts almost brushed his boots; +her sunshade--which she was swinging--came within an inch of his hand. + +Dorothy Hamblyn! The words leapt to his lips unconsciously, but he did +not utter them. She passed on brightly--joyously, it seemed to him, but +she was quite unaware of his presence. In the main, her eyes were fixed +on the young man by her side--a slim, faultlessly dressed young man, +with pale face, retreating chin, and a bored expression in his eyes. + +Ralph rose to his feet and followed them. His heart was beating fast, +his knees trembled in spite of himself, his brain was in a whirl. What +he purposed doing or where he purposed going never occurred to him. He +simply followed a sudden impulse, whether it led to his undoing or not. + +He kept them in sight until they reached Hyde Park Corner. Then the +crowd swallowed them up for several moments. But he caught sight of them +again on the other side and followed them into the Park. For several +minutes he had considerable difficulty in disentangling them from the +crowd of people that hurried to and fro, but a large white plume Dorothy +wore in her hat assisted him. They came to a full stop at length, and +sat down on a couple of chairs. He discovered an empty chair on the +other side of the road, and sat down opposite. + +He was near enough to see her features distinctly, near enough to see +the light sparkle in her eyes, but not near enough to hear anything she +said. That, however, did not matter. He was content for the moment to +look at her. He wanted nothing better. + +How beautiful she was! She was no longer the squire's "little maid," she +was a woman now. Nearly two years had passed since he last saw her, and +those years had ripened all her charms and rounded them into perfection. + +He could look his fill without being observed. If she cast her eyes in +his direction she would not recognise him--probably she had forgotten +his existence. + +His nerves were still thrilling with a strange ecstasy. His eyes drank +in greedily every line and curve and expression of her face. In all this +great London there was no other face, he was sure, that could compare +with it, no other smile that was half so sweet. + +She rose at length, slowly and with seeming reluctance, to her feet. Her +companion at once sprang to her side. Ralph rose also, and faced them. +Why he did so he did not know. He was still following a blind and +unreasoning impulse. She paused for a moment or two and looked +steadfastly in his direction, then turned and quickly walked away, and a +moment later was swallowed up in the multitude. + +Ralph took one step forward, then turned back and sat down with a jerk. +He had come to himself at last. + +"Well, I have played the fool with a vengeance," he muttered to himself. +"I have just pulled down all I have been trying for the last two years +to build up." + +The next moment he was unconscious of his surroundings again. Crowds of +people passed and re-passed, but he saw one face only, the face that had +never ceased to haunt him since the hour when, in her bright, imperious +way, she commanded him to open the gate. + +How readily and vividly he recalled every incident of that afternoon. He +felt her arms about his neck even now. He was hurrying across the downs +once more in the direction of St. Goram. His heart was thrilling with a +new sensation. + +He came to himself again after a while and sauntered slowly out of the +Park. Beauty and wealth and fashion jostled him on every side, but it +was a meaningless show to him. Had Ruth been with him she would have +gone into ecstasies over the hats and dresses, for such creations were +never seen in St. Goram, nor even dreamed of. + +Men have to be educated to appreciate the splendours and glories of +feminine attire, and, generally speaking, the education is a slow and +disappointing process. The male eye is not quick in detecting the +subtleties of lace and chiffon, the values of furs and furbelows. + +"Women dress to please the men," somebody has remarked. That may be true +in some cases. More frequently, it is to be feared, they dress to make +other women envious. + +Ralph's education in the particular line referred to had not even +commenced. He knew nothing of the philosophy of clothes. He was vaguely +conscious sometimes that some people were well dressed and others ill +dressed, that some women were gowned becomingly and others unbecomingly, +but beyond that generalisation he never ventured. + +He had begun to dress well himself almost without knowing it. He +instinctively avoided everything that was loud or noticeable. Nature had +given him a good figure--tall, erect, and well proportioned. Moreover, +he was free from the vanity which makes a man self-conscious, and he was +sufficiently well educated to know what constituted a gentleman. + +He got back to the small hotel at which he was staying in time for an +early dinner, after which he strolled into the Embankment Gardens and +listened to the band. Later still, he found himself sitting on one of +the seats in Trafalgar Square listening to the splash of the fountains +and dreaming of home, and yet in every dream stood out the exquisite +face and figure of Dorothy Hamblyn. + +Next morning, because he had nothing to do, and because he was already +tired of sight-seeing, he made his way again into St. James's Park, and +found a seat near the lake and in the shadow of the trees. He told +himself that he came there in the hope that he might see Dorothy Hamblyn +again. + +He knew it was a foolish thing to do. But he had come to the unheroic +conclusion during the night that it was of no use fighting against Fate. +He loved Dorothy Hamblyn passionately, madly, and that was the end of +it. He could not help it. He had tried his best to root out the foolish +infatuation, and he had almost hoped that he was succeeding. But +yesterday's experience had torn the veil from his eyes, and revealed to +him the fact that he was more hopelessly in love than ever. + +How angry he was with himself he did not know. The folly of it made him +ashamed. His presumption filled him with amazement. If anyone else of +his own class had done the same thing he would have laughed him to +scorn. In truth, he could have kicked himself for his folly. + +Then, unconsciously, his mood would change, and self-pity would take the +place of scorn. He was not to blame. He was the victim of a cruel and +cynical Fate. He was being punished for hating her father so intensely. +It was the Nemesis of an evil passion. + +He spent most of the day in the Park, and kept an eager look-out in all +directions; but the vision of Dorothy's face did not again gladden his +eyes. A hundred times he started, and the warm blood rushed in a torrent +to his face, then he would walk slowly on again. + +On the following morning he met Sir John Liskeard, by appointment, in +his chambers in the Temple. + +"He had been going into the case," he explained to Ralph, "with +considerable care, but even now he had not found out all he wanted to +know. He had, however, discovered one or two facts which had an +important bearing on the case." + +He was careful to explain, again, that in equity he considered Ralph's +claim incontestable, while nothing could be more honourable than the way +in which he had tried to come to terms with the company. He spoke +strongly of the high-handed and tyrannous way in which a rich and +powerful company were trying to crush a poor man and rob him of the +fruits of his skill and enterprise. + +But, on the other hand, there was no doubt whatever that the company +would be able to cite a clear case. To begin with, the agreement, or the +concession, was very loosely worded. Moreover, no time limit had been +set, which might imply that the company retained the right of +withdrawing the concession at any moment. It was also contended by some +of the shareholders that the company, as a whole, could not be held +responsible for mistakes made by the chairman. That, however, he held +was a silly contention, inasmuch as the agreement was stamped with the +company's seal, and was signed by the secretary and two directors. + +On the other hand, there could be no doubt that the concession had been +hurriedly made, no one at the time realising that there was any value in +the rubbish heap that had been accumulating for the biggest part of a +century. On one point, however, the company had cleverly forestalled +them. It had purchased, recently, the freehold of Daniel Rickard's farm. +This, no doubt, was a very astute move, and mightily strengthened the +company's position. + +"I am bound, also, to point out one other fact," the lawyer went on. "I +have discovered that both Lord Probus and Lord St. Goram are +considerable shareholders in the concern. They are both tremendously +impressed by what I may term 'the potentialities of the tailing heap.' +In fact, they believe there's a huge fortune in it, and they are +determined that the company shall reap the reward of your discovery." + +"They need not be so greedy," Ralph said bitterly. "They have both far +more than they know how to spend, and they might have been willing to +give a beginner a chance." + +"You know the old saying," Sir John said, with a smile. "'Much would +have more.'" + +"I've heard it," Ralph said moodily. + +"You will understand I am not talking to you merely as a lawyer. There +is no doubt whatever that you have a case, and a very clear case. I may +add, a very strong case." + +"And what, roughly speaking, would it cost to fight it in a court of +law?" + +Sir John shrugged his shoulders and smiled knowingly. + +"I might name a minimum figure," he said, and he did. + +Ralph started, and half rose from his chair. + +"That settles the matter," he said, after a pause. + +"It would be a very unequal contest," Sir John remarked. + +"You mean----" + +"I mean, they could take it from court to court, and simply cripple you +with law costs." + +"So, as usual, the weak must go to the wall?" + +"To be quite candid with you, I could not advise you to risk what you +have made." + +"What I have made is very little indeed," Ralph answered. + +"I thought you had made a small fortune." + +"I could have made a little if I had been given time; but I have spent +most of the profit in increasing and improving the plant." + +"I am sorry. To say the least, it is rough on you." + +"It is what I have been used to all my life," Ralph said absently. "The +powerful appear to recognise no law but their own strength." + +When Ralph found himself in the street again his thoughts immediately +turned towards home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +TRUTH WILL OUT + + +Ralph went back to his hotel with the intention of packing his bag, and +returning home by the first available train. He had got what he came to +London to get, and there was no need for him to waste more time and +money in the big city. He was not disappointed. The learned counsel had +taken precisely the view he had expected, and had given the advice that +might be looked for from a friend and well-wisher. + +He was not sorry he had come. The reasoned opinion of a man of law and a +man of affairs was worth paying for. Though he had practically lost +everything, he would go back home better satisfied. He would not be able +to blame himself for either cowardice or stupidity. His business now was +to submit with the best grace possible to those who were more powerful +than himself. + +It was annoying, no doubt, to see the harvest of his research and +industry and enterprise reaped by other people--by people who had never +given an hour's thought or labour to the matter. But his experience was +by no means peculiar. It was only on rare occasions the inventor +profited by the labour of his brains. It was the financier who pocketed +the gold. The man of intellect laboured, the man of finance entered into +his labours. + +As Ralph made his way slowly along the Strand he could not help +wondering what his next move would be when he got home. As far as he +could see, he was on his beam-ends once more. There appeared to be no +further scope for enterprise in St. Ivel or in St. Goram. He might go +back to the mine again and work for fourteen shillings a week, but such +a prospect was not an inviting one. He was built on different lines from +most of his neighbours. The steady work and the steady wage and the +freedom from responsibility did not appeal to him as it appealed to so +many people. He rather liked responsibility. The question of wage was of +very secondary importance. He disliked the smooth, well-trodden paths. +The real interest in life was in carving out new paths for himself and +other people. + +But there were no new paths to be carved out in St. Ivel or in the +neighbouring parishes. The one new thing of a generation--born in his +own brain--had been taken out of his hands, and there was nothing left +but the old ruts, worn deep by the feet of many generations. + +He began to wonder what all the people who jostled him in the street did +for a living. Was there anything new or fresh in their lives, or did +they travel the same weary round day after day and year after year? + +The sight of so many people in the street doing nothing--or apparently +doing nothing--oppressed him. The side walks were crowded. 'Buses were +thronged, cabs and hansoms rolled past, filled, seemingly, with idle +people. And yet nearly everybody appeared to be eager and alert. What +were they after? What phantom were they pursuing? What object had they +in life? He turned down a quiet street at length, glad to escape the +noise and bustle, and sought the shelter of his hotel. + +Before proceeding to pack his bag, however, he consulted a time-table, +and discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that there was no train that +would take him to St. Goram that day. He could get as far as Plymouth, +but no farther. + +"It's no use making two bites at a cherry," he said to himself; "so I'll +stay where I am another day." + +An hour or two later he found himself once more in the Park in the +shadow of the trees. It was here he first saw Dorothy, and he cherished +a vague hope that she might pass that way again. He called himself a +fool for throwing oil on the flame of a hopeless passion, but in his +heart he pitied himself more than he blamed. + +Moreover, he needed something to draw away his thoughts from himself. If +he brooded too long on his disappointments, he might lose heart and +hope. It was much pleasanter to think of Dorothy than of the treatment +he had received at the hands of the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company, so he +threw himself, with a sigh, on an empty seat and watched the people +passing to and fro. + +Most people walked slowly, for the day was hot. The ladies carried +sunshades, and were clad in the flimsiest materials. The roar of the +streets was less insistent than when he sat there before. But London +still seemed to him an inexpressibly lonely place. + +He was never quite sure how long he sat there. An hour, perhaps. Perhaps +two hours. Time was not a matter that concerned him just then. His brain +kept alternating between the disappointments of the past and hopes of +the future. He came to himself with a start. The rustle of a dress, +accompanied by a faint perfume as of spring violets, caused him to raise +his head with a sudden movement. + +"I thought I could not be mistaken!" + +The words fell upon his ears with a curious sense of remoteness such as +one experiences sometimes in dreams. + +The next moment he was on his feet, his face aglow, his eyes sparkling +with intense excitement. + +"Did I not see you two days ago? Pardon me for speaking, but really, to +see one from home is like a draught of water to a thirsty traveller." +And Dorothy's voice ended in a little ripple of timid laughter. + +"It is a long time since you were at St. Goram?" he said, in a +questioning tone. + +"I scarcely remember how long," she answered. "It seems ages and ages. +Won't you tell me all the news?" + +"I shall be delighted," he said; and he walked away by her side. + +"Father writes to me every week or two," she went on, "but I can never +get any news out of him. I suppose it is that nothing happens in St. +Goram." + +"In the main we move in the old ruts," he answered slowly. "Besides, +your father will not be interested in the common people, as they are +called." + +"He is getting very tired of the place. He wants to get his household +into the very smallest compass, so that he can spend more time in London +and abroad." + +"Do you like living in London?" + +"In the winter, very much; but in the summer I pine for St. Goram. I +want the breeze of the downs and the shade of the plantation." + +"But you will be running down before the summer is over?" + +"I am afraid not. To begin with, I cannot get away very well, and then I +think my father intends practically to shut up the house at the end of +this month." + +"And your brother?" + +"He will stay with my Aunt Fanny in London--she is my father's sister, +you know--or he may go abroad with father for a month or two." And she +sighed unconsciously. + +For a while they walked on in silence. They had left the hot yellow path +for the green turf. In front of them was a belt of trees, with chairs +dotted about in the shadow. Ralph felt as though he were in dreamland. +It seemed scarcely credible that he should be walking and talking with +the daughter of Sir John Hamblyn. + +Dorothy broke the silence at length, and her words came with manifest +effort. + +"I hope my father expressed his regret, and apologised for the mistake +he made?" + +"Oh, as to that," he said, with a short laugh, "I am afraid I have given +him no opportunity. You see, I have been very much occupied, and then I +don't live in St. Goram now." + +"And--and--your people?" + +"You know, I suppose, that my mother is dead?" + +"No; I had not heard. Oh, I am so sorry!" + +"She died the day after I came back from prison." + +"Oh, how sad!" + +"I don't think she thought so. She was glad to welcome me back again, of +course, and to know that my innocence had been established. But since +father died she seemed to have nothing to live for." + +Then silence fell again for several minutes. They had reached the shadow +of the trees, and Dorothy suggested that they should sit down and rest a +while. Ralph pulled up a chair nearly opposite her. He still felt like +one in a dream. Every now and then he raised his eyes to her face, and +thought how beautiful she had grown. + +"Do you know," she said, breaking the silence again, "I was almost +afraid to speak to you just now." + +"Afraid?" + +"You have suffered a good deal at our hands." + +"Well?" His heart was in a tumult, but he kept himself well in hand. + +"It must require a good deal of grace to keep you from hating us most +intensely." + +"I am afraid I am not as good a hater as I would like to be." + +"As you would like to be?" + +"It has not been for want of trying, I can assure you. But Fate loves to +make fools of us." + +"I don't think I quite understand," she said, looking puzzled. + +"Do you want to understand?" he questioned, speaking slowly and +steadily, though every drop of blood in his veins seemed to be at +boiling point. + +"Yes, very much," she answered, making a hole in the ground with her +sunshade. + +"Then you shall know," he said, with his eyes on some distant object. He +had grown quite reckless. He feared nothing, cared for nothing. It would +be a huge joke to tell this proud daughter of the house of Hamblyn the +honest truth. Moreover, it might help him to defy the Fate that was +mocking him, might help to relieve the tension of the last few days, and +would certainly put an end to the possibility of her ever speaking to +him again. + +"You are right when you say I have suffered a good deal, I won't say at +your hands, but at the hands of your father, and Heaven knows my hatred +of him has not lacked intensity." Then he paused suddenly and looked at +her, but she did not raise her eyes. + +"You are his daughter," he went on, slowly and bitingly, "his own flesh +and blood. You bear a name that I loathe more than any other name on +earth." + +She winced visibly, and her cheeks became crimson. + +"But Fate has been cruel to me in every way. Your very kindness to me, +to Ruth, to my mother, has only added to my torture----" + +"Added to----" + +But he did not let her finish the sentence. His nerves were strung up to +the highest point of tension. He felt, in a sense, outside himself. He +was no longer master of his own emotions. + +"Had you been like your father," he continued, "I could have hated you +also. But it may be that, to punish me for hating your father so +bitterly, God made me love you." + +She rose to her feet in a moment, her face ashen. + +"Don't go away," he said, quietly and deliberately. "It will do you no +harm to hear me out. I did not seek this interview. I shall never seek +another. A man who has been in prison, and whose mother died in the +workhouse----" + +"In the workhouse?" she said, with a gasp. + +"Thanks to your father," he said slowly and bitterly. "And yet, in spite +of all this, I had dared to love you. No, don't sneer at me," he said, +mistaking a motion of her lips. "God knows I have about as much as I can +bear. I tried to hate you. I felt it almost a religious duty to hate +you. I fought against the passion that has conquered me till I had no +strength left." + +She had sat down again, with her eyes upon the ground, but her bosom was +heaving as though a tempest raged beneath. + +"Why have you told me this?" she said at length, with a sudden fierce +light in her eyes. + +"Oh, I hardly know," he said, with a reckless laugh. "For the fun of it, +I expect. Don't imagine I have any ulterior object in view, save that of +self-defence." + +"Self-defence?" + +"Yes; you will despise me now. My effrontery and impertinence will be +too much even for your large charity. I can fancy how the tempest of +your scorn is gathering. I don't mind it. Let it rage. It may help to +turn my heart against you." + +She did not answer him; she sat quite still with her eyes fixed upon the +ground. + +He looked at her for several moments in silence, and his mood began to +change. What spirit had possessed him to talk as he had done? + +She rose to her feet at length, and raised her eyes timidly to his face. +Whether she was angry or disgusted, or only sorry, he could not tell. + +He rose also, but he scarcely dared to look at her. + +"Good-afternoon," she said at length; and she held out her hand to him. + +"Good-afternoon," he answered; but he did not take her outstretched +hand, he pretended not even to see it. + +He stood still and watched her walk away out into the level sunshine; +watched her till she seemed but a speck of colour in the hazy distance. +Then, with a sigh, he turned his face towards the City. He still felt +more or less like one in a dream: there seemed to be an air of unreality +about everything. Perhaps he would come to himself directly and discover +that he was not in London at all. + +He did not return to his hotel until nearly bedtime. The porter handed +him a letter which came soon after he went out. + +It was from Sir John Liskeard, and requested that Ralph would call on +him again at his rooms in the Temple on the following morning, any time +between ten and half-past. No reason was given why Sir John wanted this +second interview. + +Ralph stood staring at the letter for several moments, then slowly put +it back into the envelope, and into his pocket. + +"Perhaps some new facts have come to light," he said to himself, as he +made his way slowly up the stairs, and a thrill of hope and expectancy +shot through his heart. "Perhaps my journey to London may not be without +fruit after all. I wonder now----" + +And when he awoke next morning he was still wondering. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +HOME AGAIN + + +"I am sorry to have troubled you to call again," was Sir John's +greeting, "but there is a little matter that quite slipped my memory +yesterday. Won't you be seated?" + +Ralph sat down, still hoping that he was going to hear some good news. + +"It is nothing about the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company," Sir John went +on, "and, in fact, nothing that concerns you personally." + +Ralph's face fell, and the sparkle went out of his eyes. It was foolish +of him ever to hope for anything. Good news did not come his way. He did +not say anything, however. + +"The truth is, a friend of mine is considering the advisability of +purchasing Hillside Farm, and has asked me to make one or two inquiries +about it." + +Ralph gave a little gasp, but remained silent. + +"Now, I presume," Sir John said, with a little laugh, "if there is a man +alive who knows everything about the farm there is to be known you are +that man." + +"But I do not understand," Ralph said. "I have always understood that +the Hamblyn estate is strictly entailed." + +"That is true of the original estate. But you may or you may not be +aware that Hillside came to Sir John by virtue of the Land Enclosures +Act." + +"Oh yes, I know all about that," Ralph said, with a touch of scorn in +his voice; "and a most iniquitous Act it was." + +Sir John shrugged his shoulders, a very common habit of his. It was not +his place to speak ill of an Act of Parliament which had put a good deal +of money into his pocket and into the pockets of his professional +brethren in all parts of the country. + +"Into the merits of this particular Act," he said, a little stiffly, "we +need not enter now. Suffice it that Hamblyn is quite at liberty to +dispose of the freehold if he feels so inclined." + +"And he intends to sell Hillside Farm?" + +"Well, between ourselves, he does--that is, if he can get rid of it by +private treaty. Naturally, he does not want the matter talked about. I +understand there is a very valuable stone quarry in one corner of the +estate." + +"There is a quarry," Ralph answered slowly, for his thoughts were intent +on another matter, "but whether it is very valuable or not I cannot say. +I should judge it is not of great value, or the squire would not want to +sell the freehold." + +"When a man is compelled to raise a large sum of money there is +frequently for him no option." + +"And is that the case with Sir John?" + +"There can be no doubt whatever that he is hard up. His life interest in +the Hamblyn estate is, I fancy, mortgaged to the hilt. If he can sell +Hillside Farm at the price he is asking for it, he will have some ready +cash to go on with." + +"What is the price he names?" + +"Twenty years' purchase on the net rental--the same on the mineral +dues." + +"There are no mineral dues," Ralph said quickly, and his thoughts flew +back in a moment to that conversation he had with his father. + +"Well, quarry dues, then," Sir John said, with a smile. + +"And is your friend likely to purchase?" Ralph questioned. + +"I believe he would like the farm. But he is a cautious man, and is +anxious to find out all he can before he strikes a bargain." + +"And will he be guided by your advice?" + +"In the main he will." + +"Then, if you are his friend, you will advise him to make haste slowly." + +"You think the farm is not worth the money?" + +"To the ordinary investor I am sure it is not. To the man who wants it +for some sentimental reason the case is different." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Well, if I were a rich man, for instance, I might be disposed to give a +good deal more for it than it is worth. You see, I helped to reclaim the +land from the waste. I know every bush and tree on the farm. I remember +every apple tree being planted. I love the place, for it was my home. My +father died there----" + +"Then why don't you buy it?" interrupted Sir John. + +Ralph laughed. + +"You might as well ask me why I don't buy the moon," he said. "If I had +been allowed to go on with my present work I might have been able to buy +it in time. Now it is quite out of the question." + +"That is a pity," Sir John said meditatively. + +"I don't know that it is," Ralph answered. "One cannot live on +sentiment." + +"And yet sentiment plays a great part in one's life." + +"No doubt it does, but with the poor the first concern is how to live." + +"Then, sentiment apart, you honestly think the place is not worth the +money?" + +"I'm sure it isn't. Jenkins told me not long ago that if he could not +get his rent lowered he should give up the farm." + +"And what about the quarry?" + +"It will be worked out in half a dozen years at the outside." + +"You think so?" + +"I do honestly. I've no desire to do harm to the squire, though God +knows he has been no friend to me. But twenty years' purchase at the +present rental and dues would be an absurd price." + +"I think it is rather stiff myself." + +"Is Sir John selling the place through some local agent or solicitor?" + +"Oh no. Messrs. Begum & Swear, Chancery Lane, are acting for him." + +An hour later, Ralph was rolling away in an express train towards the +west. He sat next the window, and kept his eyes steadily fixed on the +scenery through which he passed. And yet he saw very little of it; his +thoughts were too intent on other things. Towns, villages, hamlets, +homesteads, flew past, but he scarcely heeded. Wooded hills drew near +and faded away in the distance. The river gleamed and flashed and hid +itself. Gaily-dressed people made patches of colour in shady backwaters +for a moment; the sparkle of a weir caught his eye, and was gone. + +It was only in after days that he recalled the incidents of the journey; +for the moment he could think of nothing but Dorothy Hamblyn and the +sale of Hillside Farm. The sudden failure of his small commercial +enterprise did not worry him. He knew the worst of that. To cry over +spilt milk was waste both of time and energy. His business was not to +bewail the past, but to face resolutely the future. + +But Dorothy and the fate of Hillside Farm belonged to a different +category. Dorothy he could not forget, try as he would. She had stolen +his heart unconsciously, and he would never love another. At least, he +would never love another in the same deep, passionate, overmastering +way. He was still angry with himself for his mad outburst of the +previous day, and could not imagine what possessed him to speak as he +did. He wondered, too, what she thought of him. Was her feeling one of +pity, or anger, or amusement, or contempt, or was it a mixture of all +these qualities? + +Then, for a while, she would pass out of his mind, and a picture of +Hillside Farm would come up before his vision. On the whole, he was not +sorry that the squire was compelled to sell. It was a sort of Nemesis, a +rough-and-ready vindication of justice and right. + +The place never was his in equity, whatever it might be in law. If it +belonged to anybody, it belonged to the man who reclaimed it from the +wilderness. + +No, he was not sorry that the squire was unable to keep it. It seemed to +restore his faith in the existence of a moral order. A man who was not +worthy to be a steward--who abused the power he possessed--ought to be +deposed. It was in the eternal fitness of things that he should give +place to a better man. + +Ruth met him at St. Ivel Road Station, and they walked home together in +the twilight. They talked fitfully, with long breaks in the +conversation. He had told her by letter the result of his mission, so +that he had nothing of importance to communicate. + +"The men are very much cut up," she said, after a little lull in their +talk, which had been mainly about London. "Several of them called this +afternoon to know if I had heard any news; and when I told them that you +were not going to contest the claim of the company, and that the works +would cease, they looked as if they would cry." + +"I hope they will be able to get work somewhere else," he answered +quietly. + +"But they will not get such wages as you have been giving them. You +cannot imagine how popular you are. I believe the men would do anything +for you." + +"I believe they would do anything in reason," he said. "I have tried to +treat them fairly, and I am quite sure they have done their best to +treat me fairly. People are generally paid back in their own coin." + +"And have you any idea what you will do next?" she questioned, after a +pause. + +"Not the ghost of an idea, Ruth. If I had not you to think of, I would +go abroad and try my fortune in a freer air." + +"Don't talk about going abroad," she said, with a little gasp. + +"Yet it may have to come to it," he answered. "One feels bound hand and +foot in a country like this." + +"But are other countries any better?" + +"The newer countries of the West and our own Colonies do not seem quite +so hidebound. What with our land laws and our mineral dues, and our +leasehold systems, and our patent laws, and our precedents, and our +rights of way and all the bewildering entanglements of red-tapeism, one +feels as helpless as a squirrel in a cage. One cannot walk out on the +hills, or sit on the cliffs, or fish in the sea without permission of +somebody. All the streams and rivers are owned; all the common land has +been appropriated; all the minerals a hundred fathoms below the surface +are somebody's by divine right. One wonders that the very atmosphere has +not been staked out into freeholds." + +"But things are as they have always been, dear," Ruth said quietly. + +"No, not always," he said, with a laugh. + +"Well, for a very long time, anyhow. And, after all, they are no worse +for us than for other people." + +He did not reply to this remark. Getting angry with the social order did +not mend things, and he had no wish to carp and cavil when no good could +come of it. + +Within the little cottage everything was ready for the evening meal. The +kettle was singing on the hob, the table was laid, the food ready to be +brought in. + +"It is delightful to be home again," Ralph said, throwing himself into +his easy-chair. "After all, there's no place like home." + +"And did you like London?" + +"Yes and no," he answered meditatively. "It is a very wonderful place, +and I might grow to be fond of it in time. But it seemed to be so +terribly lonely, and then one's vision seemed so cramped. One could only +look down lines of streets--you are shut in by houses everywhere. The +sun rose behind houses, set behind houses. You wanted to see the distant +spaces, to look across miles of country, to catch glimpses of the +far-off hills, but the houses shut out everything. Oh, it is a lonely +place!" + +"And yet it is crowded with people?" + +"And that adds to the feeling of loneliness," he replied. "You are +jostled and bumped on every side, and you know nobody. Not a face in all +the thousands you recognise." + +"I should like to see it all some day." + +"Some day you shall," he said. "If ever I grow rich enough you shall +have a month there. But let us not talk of London just now. Has anything +happened since I went away?" + +"Nothing at all, Ralph." + +"And has nobody been to see you?" + +"Nobody except Mary Telfer. She has come in most days, and always like a +ray of sunshine." + +"She is a very cheerful little body," Ralph said, and then began to +attack his supper. + +A few minutes later he looked up and said-- + +"Did you ever hear the old saying, Ruth, that one has to go from home to +hear news?" + +"Why, of course," she said, with a laugh. "Who hasn't?" + +"I had rather a remarkable illustration of the old saw this morning." + +"Indeed?" + +"I had to go to London to learn that Hillside Farm is for sale." + +"For sale, Ralph?" + +"So Sir John Liskeard told me. I warrant that nobody in St. Goram +knows." + +"Are you very sorry?" she questioned. + +"Not a bit. The squire squeezed his tenants for all they were worth, and +now the money-lenders are squeezing him. It's only poetic justice, after +all." + +"Yet surely he is to be pitied?" + +"Well, yes. Every man is to be pitied who fools away his money on the +Turf and on other questionable pursuits, and yet when the pinch comes +you cannot help saying it serves him right." + +"But nobody suffers alone, Ralph." + +"I know that," he answered, the colour mounting suddenly to his cheeks. +"But as far as his son Geoffrey is concerned, it may do him good not to +have unlimited cash." + +"I was not thinking of Geoffrey. I was thinking of Miss Dorothy." + +"It may do her good also," he said, a little savagely. "Women are none +the worse for knowing the value of a sovereign." + +For several minutes there was silence; then Ruth said, without raising +her eyes-- + +"I wish we were rich, Ralph." + +"For why?" he questioned with a smile, half guessing what was in her +mind. + +"We would buy Hillside Farm." + +"You would like to go back there again to live?" + +"Shouldn't I just! Oh, Ralph, it would be like heaven!" + +"I'm not so sure that I should like to go back," he said, after a long +pause. + +"No?" she questioned. + +"Don't you think the pain would outweigh the pleasure?" + +"Oh no. I think father and mother wander through the orchard and across +the fields still, and I should feel nearer to them there; and I'm sure +it would make heaven a better place for them if they knew we were back +in the old home." + +"Ah, well," he said, with a sigh, "that is a dream we cannot indulge in. +Sir John Liskeard asked me why I did not buy it." + +"And what did you say to him?" + +"What could I say, Ruth, except that I could just as easily buy the +moon?" + +"Would the freehold cost so much?" + +"As the moon?" + +"No, no, I don't mean that, you silly boy; but is land so very, very +dear?" + +"Compared with land in or near big towns or cities, it is very, very +cheap." + +"But I mean it would take a lot of money to buy Hillside?" + +"You and I would think it a lot." And then the sound of footsteps was +heard outside, followed a moment later by a timid knock at the door. + +"I wonder who it can be?" Ruth said, starting to her feet. "I'm glad you +are at home, or I should feel quite nervous." + +"Do you think burglars would knock at the front door and ask if they +might come in?" he questioned, with a laugh. + +Ruth did not reply, but went at once to the door and opened it, much +wondering who their visitor could be, for it was very rarely anyone +called at so late an hour. + +It had grown quite dark outside, so that she could only see the outline +of two tall figures standing in the garden path. + +She was quickly reassured by a familiar voice saying-- + +"Is your brother at home, Miss Penlogan?" + +And then for some reason the hot blood rushed in a torrent to her neck +and face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A TRYING POSITION + + +William Menire was troubled about two things--troubles rarely come +singly. The first trouble arose a week or two previously out of a +request preferred by a cousin of his, a young farmer from a neighbouring +parish, who wanted an introduction to Ruth Penlogan. + +Sam Tremail was a good-looking young fellow of irreproachable character. +Moreover, he was well-to-do, his father and mother having retired and +left a large farm on his hands. He stood nearly six feet in his boots, +had never known a day's illness in his life, was only twenty-six years +of age, lived in a capital house, and only wanted a good wife to make +him the happiest man on earth. + +Yet for some reason there was not a girl in his own parish that quite +took his fancy. Not that there was any lack of eligible young ladies; +not that he had set his heart on either beauty or fortune. Disdainful +and disappointed mothers who had daughters to spare said that he was +proud and stuck-up--that they did not know what the young men of the +present day were coming to, and that Sam Tremail deserved to catch a +tartar. + +Some of these remarks were repeated to Sam, and he acknowledged their +force. He had a feeling that he ought to marry a girl from his own +parish. He admitted their eligibility. Some of them were exceedingly +pretty, and one or two of them had money in their own right. Yet for +some reason they left his heart untouched. They were admirable as +acquaintances, or even friends, but they moved him to no deeper emotion. + +He first caught sight of Ruth at the sale when her father's worldly +goods were being disposed of by public auction. She looked so sad, so +patient, so gentle, so meekly resigned, that a new chord in his nature +seemed to be set suddenly vibrating, and it had gone on vibrating ever +since. It might be pity he felt for her, or sympathy; but, whatever it +was, it made him anxious to know her better. Her sweet, sad eyes haunted +him, her tremulous lips made him long to comfort her. + +How to get acquainted with her, however, remained an insoluble problem. +She was altogether outside the circle of his friends. She had lived all +her life in another parish, and moved in an entirely different orbit. + +While she lived with Mr. Varcoe at St. Hilary, he met her several times +in the streets--for he went to St. Hilary market at least once a +fortnight--but he had no excuse for speaking to her. He knew, of course, +of the misfortune that had overtaken her, knew that she was earning her +living in service of some kind, knew that her mother was in the +workhouse, that her brother was in prison awaiting his trial, but all +that only increased the volume of his compassion. He felt that he would +willingly give all he possessed for the privilege of helping and +comforting her. + +For a long time he lost sight of her; then he learned that she had gone +to keep house for her brother at St. Ivel. But St. Ivel was a long way +from Pentudy, and there was practically no direct communication between +the two parishes. + +Then he learned that William Menire--a second cousin of his--was on +friendly terms with the Penlogans; but the trouble was he hardly knew +his relative by sight, and he had never made any effort to know him +better. In the past, at any rate, the Menires had not been considered +socially the equals of the Tremails. The Tremails had been large farmers +for generations. The Menires were nothing in particular. + +William was a grocer's assistant when his father died. How he had +managed to maintain his mother and build up a flourishing business out +of nothing was a story often told in St. Goram. The very severity of his +struggle was perhaps in his favour. His neighbours sympathised with him +in his uphill fight, and patronised his small shop when it was +convenient to do so. So his business grew. Later on people discovered +that they could get better stuff for the money at William's shop than +almost anywhere else. Hence, when sympathy failed, self-interest took +its place. As William's capital increased, he added new departments to +his business, and vastly improved the appearance of his premises. He +turned the whole side of his shop into a big window at his own expense, +not asking Lord St. Goram for a penny. + +At the time of which we write, William had reached the sober age of +thirty-six, and was generally looked upon as a man of substance. + +He was surprised one evening to receive a visit from his cousin, Sam +Tremail. The young farmer had to make himself known. He did so in rather +a clumsy fashion; but then, the task he had set himself was a delicate +one, and he had not been trained in the art of diplomacy. + +"It seems a pity," Sam said, with a benevolent smile, "that relatives +should be as strangers to each other." + +"Relationships don't count for much in these days, I fear," William +answered cautiously. "Nevertheless, I am glad to see you." + +"You think it is every man for himself, eh?" Sam questioned, with a +slight blush. + +"I don't say it is the philosophy or the practice of every man. But in +the main----" + +"Yes, I think you are right," Sam interjected, with a sudden burst of +candour. "And, really, I don't want you to think that I am absolutely +disinterested in riding over from Pentudy to see you." + +"It is a long journey for nothing," William said, with a smile. + +"Mind you, I have often wanted to know you better," Sam went on. "Father +has often spoken of your pluck and perseverance. He admires you +tremendously." + +"It is very kind of him," William said, with a touch of cynicism in his +tones. "I hope he is well. I have not seen him for years." + +"He is first rate, thank you, and so is mother. I suppose you know they +have retired from the farm?" + +"No, I had not heard." + +"I have it in my own hands now. For some things I wish I hadn't. I tried +to persuade father and mother to live on in the house, but they had made +up their minds to go and live in town, where they could have gas in the +streets, and all that kind of thing. If I had only a sister to keep +house it wouldn't be so bad." + +"But why don't you get married?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, that is the very thing I have come to talk +to you about." + +And Sam turned all ways in his chair, and looked decidedly +uncomfortable. + +"Come to talk to me about?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise. + +"You think it funny, of course; but the truth is----" And Sam looked +apprehensively towards the door. "We shall not be overheard here, shall +we?" + +"There's no one in the house but myself, except the cook. Mother's gone +out to see a neighbour." + +"Oh, well, I'm glad I've caught you on the quiet, as it were. I wouldn't +have the matter talked about for the world." + +William began to feel uncomfortable, and to wonder what his kinsman had +been up to. + +"I hope you have not been getting into any foolish matrimonial +entanglement?" he questioned seriously. + +Sam laughed heartily and good-humouredly. + +"No, no; things are not quite so bad as that," he said. "The fact is, I +would like to get into a matrimonial entanglement, as you call it, but +not into a foolish one." + +Then he stopped suddenly, and began to fidget again in his chair. + +"Then you are not engaged yet?" + +"Well, not quite." + +And Sam laughed again. + +William waited for him to continue, but Sam appeared to start off on an +entirely new tack. + +"I don't think I've been in St. Goram parish since the sale at Hillside +Farm. You remember it?" + +"Very well!" + +"How bad luck seems to dog the steps of some people. I felt tremendously +sorry for David Penlogan. He was a good man, by all accounts." + +"There was no more saintly man in the three parishes." + +"The mischief is, saints are generally so unpractical. They tell me the +son is of different fibre." + +"He's as upright as his father, but with a difference." + +"A cruel thing to send him to gaol on suspicion, and keep him there so +long." + +"It was a wicked thing to do, but it hasn't spoilt him. He's the most +popular man in St. Ivel to-day." + +"I remember him at the sale--a handsome, high-spirited fellow; but his +sister interested me most. I thought her smile the sweetest I had ever +seen." + +"She's as sweet as her smile, and a good deal more so," William said, +with warmth. "In fact, she has no equal hereabouts." + +"I hear you are on friendly terms with them." + +"Well, yes," William said slowly. "Not that I would presume to call +myself their equal, for they are in reality very superior people. +There's no man in St. Goram, and I include the landed folk, so well +educated or so widely read as Ralph Penlogan." + +"And his sister?" + +"She's a lady, every inch of her," William said warmly; "and what is +more, they'll make their way in the world. He's ability, and of no +ordinary kind. The rich folk may crush him for a moment, but he'll come +into his own in the long-run." + +"Are they the proud sort?" + +"Proud? Well, it all depends on what you mean by the word. Dignity they +have, self-respect, independence; but pride of the common or garden sort +they haven't a bit." + +"I thought I could not be mistaken," Sam said, after a pause; "and to +tell you the honest truth, I've never been able to think of any other +girl since I saw Miss Penlogan at the sale." + +William started and grew very pale. + +"I don't think I quite understand," he said, after a long pause. + +"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Sam questioned eagerly. + +"I don't know that I do," William answered. + +"Well, I do," Sam retorted. "A man may fall desperately in love with a +girl without even speaking to her." + +"Well?" William questioned. + +"That's just my case." + +"Your case?" + +Sam nodded. + +"Explain yourself," William said, with a curiously numb feeling at his +heart. + +"Mind, I am speaking to you in perfect confidence," Sam said. + +William assented. + +"I was taken with Ruth Penlogan the very first moment I set eyes on her. +I don't think it was pity, mind you, though I did pity her from my very +heart. Her great sad eyes; her sweet, patient face; her gentle, pathetic +smile--they just bowled me over. I could have knelt down at her feet and +worshipped her." + +"You didn't do it?" William questioned huskily. + +"It was neither the time nor the place, and I have never had an +opportunity since. I saw her again and again in the streets of St. +Hilary, but, of course, I could not speak to her, and I didn't know a +soul who could get me an introduction." + +"And you mean that you are in love with her?" + +"I expect I am," Sam answered, with an uneasy laugh. "If I'm not in +love, I don't know what ails me. I want a wife badly. A man in a big +house without a wife to look after things is to be pitied. Well, that's +just my case." + +"But--but----" William began; then hesitated. + +"You mean that there are plenty of eligible girls in Pentudy?" Sam +questioned. "I don't deny it. We have any amount. All sorts and sizes, +if you'll excuse me saying so. Girls with good looks and girls with +money. Girls of weight, and girls with figures. But they don't interest +me, not one of them. I compare 'em all with Ruth Penlogan, and then it's +all up a tree." + +"But you have never spoken to Miss Penlogan." + +"That's just the point I'm coming to. The Penlogans are friends of +yours. You go to their house sometimes. Now I want you to take me with +you some day and introduce me. Don't you see? There's no impropriety in +it. I'm perfectly honest and sincere. I want to get to know her, and +then, of course, I'll take my chance." + +William looked steadily at his kinsman, and a troubled expression came +into his eyes. He loved Ruth Penlogan himself, loved her with a +passionate devotion that once he hardly believed possible. She had +become the light of his eyes, the sunshine of his life. He hardly +realised until this moment how much she had become to him. The thought +of her being claimed by another man was almost torture to him; and yet, +ought he to stand in the way of her happiness? + +This might be the working of an inscrutable Providence. Sam Tremail, +from all he had ever heard, was a most excellent fellow. He could place +Ruth in a position that was worthy of her, and one that she would in +every way adorn. He could lift her above the possibility of want, and +out of reach of worry. He could give her a beautiful home and an assured +position. + +"I hope you do not think this is a mere whim of mine, or an idle fancy?" +Sam said, seeing that William hesitated. + +"Oh no, not at all," William answered, a little uneasily. "I was +thinking that it was a little bit unusual." + +"It is unusual, no doubt." + +"And to take you along and say, 'My cousin is very anxious to know you,' +would be to let the cat out of the bag at the start." + +"Do you think so?" + +"Don't you think so, now? There must be a reason for everything. And the +very first question Miss Penlogan would ask herself would be, 'Why does +this young man want to know me?'" + +"Well, I don't know that that would matter. Indeed, it might help me +along." + +"But when you got to know her better you might not care for her quite so +much." + +"Do you really think that?" + +"Well, no. The chances are the other way about. Only there is no +accounting for people, you know." + +"I don't think I am fickle," Sam answered seriously. + +"Still, so far it is only a pretty face that has attracted you." + +"Oh no, it is more than that. It is the character behind the face. I am +sure she is good. She appeals to me as no other woman has ever done. I +am not afraid of not loving her. It is the other thing that troubles +me." + +"You think she might not care for you?" + +"She could not do so at the start. You see I have been dreaming of her +for the last two years. She has filled my imagination, if you +understand. I have been worshipping her all the time. But on her side +there is nothing. She does not know, very likely, there is such an +individual in existence. I am not even a name to her. Hence, there is a +tremendous amount of leeway to make up." + +"Still, you have many things in your favour," William answered, a little +plaintively. "First of all, you are young"--and William sighed +unconsciously--"then you are well-to-do; and then--and then--you are +good-looking"--and William sighed again--"and then your house is ready, +and you have no encumbrances. Yes, you have many things in your favour." + +"I'm glad you think so," Sam said cheerfully, "for, to tell you the +truth, I'm awfully afraid she won't look at me." + +William sighed again, for his fear was in the other direction. And yet +he felt he ought not to be selfish. To play the part of the dog in the +manger was a very unworthy thing to do. He had no hope of winning Ruth +for himself. That Sam Tremail loved her a hundredth part as much as he +did, he did not believe possible. How could he? But then, on the other +hand, Sam was just the sort of fellow to take a girl's fancy. + +"I can't go over with you this evening," William said at length. "They +are early people, and I know Ralph is very much worried just now over +business matters." + +"Oh, there's no hurry for a day or two," Sam said cheerfully. "The great +thing is, you'll take me along some evening?" + +"Why, yes," William answered, slowly and painfully. "I couldn't do less +than that very well." + +"And I don't ask you to do more," Sam replied, with a laugh. "I must do +the rest myself." + +William did not sleep very much that night. For some reason, the thought +of Ruth Penlogan getting married had scarcely crossed his mind. There +seemed to him nobody in St. Goram or St. Ivel that was worthy of her. +Hence the appearance of Sam Tremail on the scene intent on marrying her +was like the falling of an avalanche burying his hope and his desire. + +"I suppose it was bound to come some time," he sighed to himself; "and +I'd rather she married Sam than some folks I know. But--but it's very +hard all the same." + +A week later Sam rode over to St. Goram again. But Ralph was in London, +and William refused to take him to the Penlogans' cottage during Ralph's +absence. + +On the day of Ralph's return, Sam came a third time. + +"Yes, I'll take you this evening," William said. "I want to see Ralph +myself. I've great faith in Ralph's judgment." And William sighed. + +"Is something troubling you?" Sam asked, with a sudden touch of +apprehension. + +"I am a bit worried," William answered slowly, "and troubles never come +singly." + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" + +"No, I don't think so," William answered. "But get on your hat; it's a +goodish walk." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +A QUESTION OF MOTIVES + + +William introduced his cousin with an air of easy indifference, +apologised for calling at so late an hour, but excused himself on the +ground that he wanted to see Ralph particularly on a little matter of +business. Sam was welcomed graciously and heartily, for William's sake. +William had been almost the best friend they had ever known. In the +darkest days of their life he had come to them almost a stranger, had +revealed the kindness of his heart in numberless little ways, had kept +himself in the background with a delicacy and sensitiveness worthy of +all praise, and had never once presumed on the kindness he had shown +them. + +For a moment or two William saw only Ruth, and he thought she had never +looked more charming and winsome. The warmth of her welcome he +attributed entirely to a sense of gratitude on her part, and he was very +grateful that she counted him worthy to be her friend. When he saw his +cousin glance at her with admiring eyes, a pang of jealousy shot through +him such as he had never experienced before. He had scarcely troubled +till now that his youth had slipped away from him; but when he looked at +Sam's smooth, handsome face; his wealth of hair, untouched by Time; his +tall, vigorous frame--he could not help wishing that he were ten years +younger, and not a shopkeeper. + +Sam and Ruth quickly got into conversation, and then Ralph led William +into a little parlour which he used as an office. + +"I haven't the remotest idea what I am going to do," Ralph said, in +answer to a question from William, "though I know well enough what I +would do if I only had money." + +"Yes?" William questioned, raising his eyes slowly. + +"I'd buy the freehold of Hillside Farm." + +"It isn't for sale, is it?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise. + +"It is." And Ralph informed him how he came by the information. + +For several minutes there was silence in the room, then William said, as +if speaking to himself-- + +"But the place isn't worth the money." + +"To a stranger--no; but to me it might be cheap at the price." + +"Are you so good at farming?" + +Ralph laughed. + +"Well, no," he answered. "I'm afraid farming is not exactly my forte; +but let us drop the subject. As I told Sir John Liskeard, I might as +well think of buying the moon." + +"But you are fond of the old place?" William questioned. + +"In a sense, yes; but I do not look at it with such longing eyes as Ruth +does." + +"She would like to live there again?" William questioned eagerly. + +"She would dance for joy at the most distant hope of it." + +"Then it is for your sister's sake you would like to turn farmer?" +William questioned, after a pause. + +"I have no wish to turn farmer at all," Ralph answered. "No, no, my +dreams and ambitions don't lie in that direction; but why talk about +impossibilities? You came across to discuss some other matter?" + +"Yes, that is true," William said absently; and then a ripple of +laughter from the adjoining room touched his heart with a curious sense +of pain. + +"They are on friendly terms already," he said to himself. "And in a +little while he will make love to her, and what will Hillside Farm be to +her then? I would do anything for her sake--anything." And he sighed +unconsciously. + +Ralph heard the sigh, and looked at him searchingly. + +"I'm in an awful hole myself," William blurted out, after a long pause. + +"In an awful hole?" Ralph questioned, with raised eyebrows. + +"It's always the unexpected that happens, they say," William went on, +"but I confess I never expected to be flung on my beam-ends as I have +been. If it were not for mother, I'd sell up and clear out of the +country." + +"Why, what is the matter?" Ralph questioned in alarm. + +"You know the part I took in the County Council election?" + +"Very well." + +"Of course, I knew that Lord St. Goram didn't quite like it. He expects +every tenant and lease-holder to vote just as he wishes them. Poor +people are not supposed to have any rights or opinions, but I thought +the day had gone by when a man was to be punished for thinking for +himself." + +"But what has happened?" Ralph asked eagerly. + +"I'm to be turned out of my shop." + +"No!" + +"It's the solemn truth. I had a seven years' lease, which expires next +March, and Lord St. Goram refuses to renew it." + +"For what reason?" + +"He gives no reason at all. But it is easy to guess. I opposed him at +the election, you know. I had a perfect right to do it, but rights go +for nothing. Now he is taking his revenge. I've not only to clear out in +March, but I've to restore the premises to the exact condition they were +in when I took them." + +"But you've improved the place in every way." + +"No doubt I have, but I did it at my own risk, and at my own expense. He +never gave his formal consent to my taking out the side of the house and +putting in that big window. His steward assured me it was all right, +though he hinted that in case I left his lordship might feel under no +obligation to grant compensation." + +"But why should he want you to restore the house to its original +condition?" + +"Just to be revenged, that's all. To show his power over me and to give +his tenants an object-lesson as to what will happen if they are unwise +enough to think for themselves." + +"It's tyranny," Ralph said indignantly. "It's a piece of mean, +contemptible tyranny." + +"You can call it by any name you like," William answered sadly, "and +there's no name too bad for it; but the point to be recollected is, I've +got to submit." + +"There's no redress for you?" + +"Not a bit. I've consulted Doubleday, who's the best lawyer about here, +and he says it would be sheer madness to contest it." + +"Then what will you do?" + +"I've not the remotest idea. There's no other place in St. Goram I can +get. His lordship professes that he would far rather have twenty small +shops and twenty small shopkeepers all living from hand to mouth than +one prosperous tradesman selling the best and the freshest and at the +lowest possible price." + +"Well, I can sympathise with him in that," Ralph answered, with a smile. + +"And yet you are no more fond of buying stale things than other people." + +"That may be true. And yet the way the big concerns are crushing out the +small men is not a pleasant spectacle." + +"But no shopkeeper compels people to buy his goods," William said, with +a troubled expression in his eyes. "And when they come to his shop, is +he to say he won't supply them? And when his business shows signs of +expansion, is he to say it shall not expand?" + +"No, no. I don't mean that at all. I like to see an honest business man +prospering. And a man who attends to his business and his customers +deserves to prosper. But I confess I don't like to see these huge +combines and trusts deliberately pushing out the smaller men--not by +fair competition, mind you, but by unfair--selling things below cost +price until their competitors are in the bankruptcy court, and then +reaping a big harvest." + +"I like that as little as you do," William said mildly. "Every honest, +industrious man ought to have a chance of life, but the chances appear +to be becoming fewer every day." And he sighed again. + +For several minutes neither of them spoke, then William said-- + +"I thought I would like to tell you all about it at the earliest +opportunity. I knew I should have your sympathy." + +"I wish I could help you," Ralph answered. "You helped me when I hadn't +a friend in the world." + +"I have your sympathy," William answered, "and that's a great thing; for +the rest we must trust in God." And he rose to his feet and looked +towards the door. + +William and Sam did not say much on their way back to St. Goram. They +talked more freely when they got into the house. + +"It's awfully good of you to introduce me," Sam said, when Mrs. Menire +had retired to her room. "I'm more in love with her than ever." + +William's heart gave a painful thump, but he answered mildly enough-- + +"You seemed to get on very well together." + +"She was delightfully friendly, but I owe that all to you. She said that +any friend of yours was welcome at their house." + +"It was very kind of her," William answered slowly. "Did she give you +permission to call again?" + +"I'm not exactly sure. She did say that any time you brought me along I +should be welcome, or words to that effect. So we must arrange another +little excursion soon." + +"Must we?" + +"We must; and what is more, you might, you know, in the meanwhile--that +is, if you can honestly do so--that is--you know what I mean, don't +you?" + +"I don't think I do," William answered, in a tone of mild surprise. + +"It's asking a lot, I know," Sam replied, fidgeting uneasily in his +chair. "But if you could--that--that is--without compromising yourself +in any way, speak a good word for me, it would go miles and miles." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I'm sure of it. She thinks the world of you, and a word from you would +be worth a week's pleading on my part." + +"I'm not so sure of that," William answered. "I think all love affairs +are best managed by those concerned. The meddling of outsiders generally +does more harm than good." + +"But there are exceptions to every rule," Sam persisted. "You see, I am +awfully handicapped by being so much of a stranger. If I can once get a +footing as a friend, the rest will be easy." + +William smiled wistfully. + +"I wouldn't be precipitate, if I were you," he said. "And in the +meanwhile I'll do my best." + +Sam slept soundly till morning, but William lay awake most of the night. +When he did sleep it was to dream that he was young and prosperous, and +that Ruth Penlogan had promised to be his wife. + +After an early breakfast, he saw his cousin mount his horse and ride +away toward Pentudy, and very soon after William climbed into his trap +and went out to get orders. + +One of his first places of call was Hillside Farm, and as he drove +slowly up to the house he looked at it with a new interest. All sorts of +vague fancies seemed to float about in his mind. He saw Ruth back there +again, looking happier than any queen; he saw himself with some kind of +proprietary interest in the place; he saw Ralph looking in when the +fancy pleased him; he saw a number of new combinations and +relationships, but so vaguely that he could not fit them into their +places. + +He found Farmer Jenkins in a very doleful mood. + +"I wish I had never seen the place," he declared. "I've lost money ever +since I came, and I'm going to clear out at the earliest opportunity." + +"Do you really mean it?" William questioned. + +"I was never more serious in my life. I sent a letter to the squire a +week ago, and told him unless he lowered the rent thirty per cent. I +should fling up the farm." + +"And has he consented to lower it?" + +"Not he. He says he'll call soon and talk the matter over with me, and +that in the meantime I'd better keep quiet; but I shan't keep quiet, and +I shan't stay." + +As William drove away from Hillside an idea, or a suggestion, shot +through his brain that made him gasp. Before he got to the village of +Veryan he was trembling on his seat. It seemed almost like a suggestion +from the Evil One, so subtle was the temptation. He had tried all his +life to do the thing that was right. He had never, as far as he knew, +taken an unfair advantage of anyone. He had aimed strictly to do what +was just and honourable between man and man. But if he bought Hillside +Farm, would it be fair dealing? Would it be fair to his Cousin Sam? +Would it be fair to Ruth? + +William tried to face the problem honestly. He would rather Ruth passed +out of his life altogether than do anything mean or unworthy. To keep +his conscience clean, and his love free from the taint of selfishness, +seemed to him the supreme end of life. But if he bought Hillside Farm, +what motive would lie at the back of it? Would it be that he wanted the +farm, that he wanted to turn farmer? or would it be the hope that Ruth, +with her passionate love of the place, would be willing even to accept +the protection of his arms? + +"All's fair in love and war," something seemed to whisper in his ear. + +But William drew himself up squarely, and a resolute look came into his +eyes. + +"No," he said to himself, "that is false philosophy. Nothing that is +mean or selfish or underhand can be fair or right. If the motive is +wrong, the transaction will be wrong." + +It took William a much longer time than usual to make his rounds that +morning. He was so absent-minded--or, more correctly, his mind was so +engrossed with other things--that he allowed his horse on several +occasions to nibble the grass by the roadside. + +He was no more interested in business matters when he got back. He would +pause in the middle of weighing a pound of sugar or starch, completely +forgetting where he was or what he was doing. + +His mother let him be. She knew that he was greatly troubled at Lord St. +Goram's refusal to renew the lease of his shop, and, like a wise woman, +did not worry him with needless questions. + +That evening, when the shutters were put up, he went to St. Ivel again. +He would have some further talk with Ralph about the farm. He would be +able also to feast his eyes again on Ruth's sweet face; perhaps, also, +if he had strength and courage enough, he might be able to speak a good +word for his Cousin Sam. + +His thoughts, however, were in such a tangle, and his motives so +uncertain, that he walked very slowly, and did not see a single thing on +the road. Before he reached the cottage he stopped short, and, taking an +order-book and a pencil from his pocket, he dotted down in a series of +propositions and questions the chief points of the problem. They ran in +this order:-- + +1. I have as much right to love Ruth Penlogan as anyone else. + +2. Though I'm only a shopkeeper, and a dozen years her senior, there's +nothing to hinder me from taking my chance. + +3. If buying Hillside would help me, and make Ruth happy, where's the +wrong? Cannot say. + +4. But if buying Hillside would spoil Sam's chance, is that right? +Doubtful. + +5. Am I called upon to help Sam's cause to the detriment of my own? Also +doubtful. + +6. Is Ruth likely to be influenced by anything I may do or say? Don't +know enough about women to answer that question. + +7. Have I the smallest chance? No. + +8. Has Sam? Most decidedly. + +9. Am I a fool for thinking about Ruth at all? Certainly. + +At this point William thrust his order-book into his pocket and +quickened his pace. + +"It's not a bit of use speculating on possibilities or probabilities," +he said to himself a little impatiently. "I'll have to do the thing that +seems right and wise. The rest I must leave." + +A minute or two later he was knocking at the cottage door. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +SELF AND ANOTHER + + +Ralph had gone to Perranpool to see Robert Telfer, but Ruth expected him +back every moment. + +"Won't you come in and wait for him?" Ruth questioned, looking beyond +him into the gathering twilight. + +William hesitated for a moment, and then decided that he would. + +"I am sure he will not be long," Ruth said, as she busied herself +getting the lamp ready. "Mr. Telfer wanted to settle with him, as--as he +can, of course, deliver no more concrete." + +"It's an awful shame," William said abruptly, and he dropped into +Ralph's easy-chair. + +"It seems very hard," Ruth said reflectively; "but I tell Ralph it may +be all for the best. Perhaps he was getting on too fast and too +suddenly." + +"He is not the sort to have his head turned by a bit of prosperity," +William said, watching his fair hostess out of the corner of his eye. + +"At any rate, the danger has been removed--if it was a danger." And Ruth +sighed gently. + +For several moments there was silence in the room. Ruth had the lamp to +light and the blind to pull down and a fresh cover to lay on the table. +William watched her with averted face and half-closed eyes. How womanly +she was in all her movements; how dainty in her appearance; how gentle +in her manner and speech! + +William felt as if he would almost risk his hope of heaven for the +chance of calling her his, and yet he had not the courage even to hint +at what he felt. Her very daintiness and winsomeness seemed to widen the +gulf between them. Who was he that he should dare make love to one who +was fit for the best in the land? It seemed to him--so unworthy did he +seem in his own eyes--utterly impossible that Ruth should ever care for +a man of his type. + +William was almost morbidly self-depreciatory when in the presence of +Ruth. His love so glorified her that by contrast he was commoner than +commonest clay. + +"I was so sorry to hear you are to be turned out of your shop," Ruth +said at length, taking a seat on the other side of the table. + +"Ralph told you?" he questioned. + +"We stayed up till quite late last night, talking about it," she +replied. "Ralph is very indignant." + +"I am very indignant myself," he answered; "but what's the good? Those +who have the power use it as they like." + +"I am sorry it has happened," she said gently; "sorry for all our sakes. +Ralph's reverence for the ruling classes was not great before. It is +less now." + +"You cannot wonder at that," he said quickly. + +"No, one cannot wonder. And yet there is a danger in judging the whole +by a few. Besides, if we had real power, we might not use it any more +wisely or justly. The best of people, after all, are only human." + +"That being so," he answered, with a smile, "it does not seem right that +any individual, or any class of individuals, should have so much power. +Who made these people rulers and dividers over us?" + +"Ah, now you are getting beyond me," she said; "but since things are as +they are, should we not make the best of them?" + +"And try to mend them at the same time?" + +"Oh yes, by all means--that is, if we can." + +"But you have not much hope of mending things?" he questioned. + +"Not very much. Besides, if you levelled things up to-morrow, they would +be levelled down again the day after." + +"Isn't that a rather fatalistic way of looking at things?" he +questioned, raising his eyes timidly to her face. + +"Is it?" she questioned, and a soft blush swept over her face as she +caught his glance. Then silence fell again for several moments. + +"The chances of life are very bewildering," he said at length, reopening +the conversation. "Some people seem to get all the luck, and others all +the misfortune. Look at my Cousin Sam." + +"Is he very unfortunate?" + +William laughed. + +"On the contrary, he has all the luck. He has never known what poverty +means, or sickness, or hardship. He was born to affluence, and now, at +twenty-six, he's his own master, with a house of his own and plenty of +money." + +"But he may not be a whit happier than those who have less." + +"I don't see how he can help it," William answered. "He's never worried +about ways and means. He has troops of friends, absolutely wants nothing +except a wife to help him to spend his money." + +"Then you should advise him to keep single," Ruth said, with a laugh, +"for if he gets married, his troubles may begin." + +"There's risk in everything, no doubt," William said meditatively. +"Still, if I were in his place, I should take the risk." + +"You would?" Ruth questioned, arching her eyebrows, "and you a +bachelor?" + +"Ah, that is my misfortune," William answered, looking hard at a picture +on the wall. "But Sam's way is quite clear." + +"Is it?" + +"He's a good fellow, too, is Sam. Never a word of slander has been +breathed against his name since he was born. He'll make a good husband, +whoever gets him." + +"I did not know you had such a cousin till last evening," Ruth said +meaningly. + +"Oh, well, no. We've never seen very much of each other. You see, the +Tremails have always been rather big people, and then we have lived a +long way apart, and I have never cared to presume on my relationship." + +"So he has hunted you up?" + +"Well, yes. He came to see me just a fortnight ago or so, and he has +ridden over once or twice since. Don't you think he's a fine, handsome +fellow?" + +"Yes; he is not bad-looking." + +"Oh, I call him handsome. It must be nice to be young and have so much +strength and energy." + +"Well, are you not young?" + +"I'm ten years older than Sam," he said, a little sadly, "and ten years +is a big slice out of one's life." + +"Are you growing pessimistic?" she questioned. "You are usually so +hopeful." + +"There are some things too good to hope for," he replied, "too +beautiful, too far away. I almost envy a man like my Cousin Sam. He has +everything within his reach." + +"You seem to be quite enthusiastic about your cousin," she said, with a +smile. + +"Am I? Oh, well, you know, he is my cousin, and a good fellow, and if I +can speak a good--I mean, if I can appreciate--that is, if I can +cultivate a right feeling toward him, and--and--all that, you know, +don't you think I ought to do so?" + +"Oh, no doubt," Ruth said, laughing. "It's generally well to be on good +terms with one's relations--at least so I've been told," and she went to +the door and looked out into the darkness. + +Ruth came back again after a few moments, and turned the lamp a little +higher. + +"Ralph is much longer than I expected he would be," she remarked, +without looking at William. + +"Perhaps Mr. Telfer was out," he suggested. + +"I don't think that. You see he went by appointment. I expect it has +taken them longer to square their accounts than they thought." + +"I hope Ralph will come well out of it," he said musingly. "He's had a +rough time of it so far." + +"I am sometimes afraid he will grow bitter and give up. He has talked +again and again of trying his fortune abroad." + +"But if he went abroad, what would become of you?" William asked, with a +sudden touch of anxiety in his voice. + +"He would send for me when he got settled." + +William gave a little gasp. + +"Would you like to go abroad?" he questioned. + +"I would much prefer to stay here if I could; but you see we cannot +always have what we would like best." + +"No, that is true," he said slowly and meditatively. "The things we +would like best are often not for us. I don't know why it should be so. +Some people seem to get all they desire. There is my Cousin Sam, for +instance." + +"He is one of the lucky ones, you say?" + +"It seems so from my point of view. Did he tell you when he first saw +you?" + +"No." + +"He would not like to remind you. It was the day of the sale at +Hillside. He was greatly--that is, of course he could not help noticing +you. Since then he has seen you lots of times. A fortunate fellow is +Sam." + +"Perhaps he does not think so." + +"Oh, I fancy he does. I don't see how he can help it. He lives in a +beautiful old house. It's years since I saw it, but it remains in my +memory a pleasant picture. His wife will have a rare time of it." + +"How do you know he does not intend to follow your example and remain a +bachelor?" + +"How? Sam knows better than that. Do you think I would remain a bachelor +if--if--but there! You remember what you said just now about the things +we want most?" + +"I did not know----" Then a step sounded on the gravel outside. "Oh, +here comes Ralph." And Ruth sprang to her feet and rushed to the door. + +A moment later the two men were shaking hands. + +"I hope I have not kept you waiting long," Ralph said. "The truth is, +Telfer and I have been settling up." + +"So your sister told me." + +"And I'm bound to say he's treated me most handsomely. Technically, he +might have got the better of me on a dozen points; but no! he's been +most fair. It's a real pleasure to come across a man who doesn't want to +Jew you." + +"Oh, bless you, there's lots of honest people in the world!" William +said, with a smile. + +"Yes, I suppose there are; the misfortune is one so often tumbles across +the other sort." + +"Perhaps you will have better luck in the future," William replied. + +"I only want fair play," Ralph answered; "I ask for nothing more than +that." + +"And have you hit upon anything for the future?" + +"Not yet. But I don't want to be in a hurry. I've ready money enough to +last me a year or two. I really didn't think I had done so well, for I'm +a duffer at figures. If I only had about four times as much I'd buy +Hillside." + +"And turn farmer?" + +"No, farming is not my forte." And he turned and looked towards the door +of the pantry behind which Ruth was engaged getting supper ready. + +"Let's go into my room," he continued, in a half-whisper. "I've +something I want to say to you." + +William followed him without a word. + +"I don't want to awaken any vain hopes in Ruth's mind," Ralph went on. +"The thing is too remote to be talked about almost. But you have +wondered why I should want Hillside Farm when I've no love for farming?" + +"I have supposed it was for your sister's sake." + +"No, it's not that exactly. It's my love of adventure, or you might call +it my love of speculation." + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Of course you don't. So I'll explain. You are the best friend I ever +had, and I can trust you. Besides, if I ever did anything I should want +your help. You are a business man, I'm a dreamer. You are good at +accounts, I'm a fool at them." + +William's eyes opened wider and wider, but he did not interrupt. + +"Now, there's just the possibility of a fortune in Hillside," Ralph went +on. "Not on the surface, mind you. The crops raised there will never be +a fortune for anybody; but my father believed there was a rich tin lode +running through it." + +"Why didn't he test it?" + +"He had no opportunity." + +"Why not? The farm was his as long as the 'lives' remained alive." + +"But all the mineral rights were reserved by the ground landlord. So +that if my father had discovered a gold mine he would have got nothing +out of it." + +"So he kept silent?" + +"Naturally; for if a mine was started, not only would he get no good out +of it, but his farm would be ruined." + +William remained silent and thoughtful. + +"Now, if I could get the freehold," Ralph went on, "I should be free +from every interference. I could sink a shaft for a few fathoms and test +the thing. If it proved to be worthless, very little harm would be done. +I should still have the farm to work or to let. Do you see my point?" + +"I do, but----" + +"I know what you would say. I have not the money," Ralph interrupted. +"That is quite true. But I've more than I thought I had. And if the +Brick, Tile, and Clay Company will take my plant at a fair valuation, I +shall have more. Now I want to ask you, as a business man, if you think +I could get a mortgage for the rest?" + +"Possibly you might," William said slowly, "but there are a good many +objections to such a course." + +"Well, what are they?" + +"We'll take one thing at a time," William answered meditatively. "To +begin with: I don't believe Sir John Hamblyn would sell the place to you +under any circumstances if he knew." + +"Why not?" + +"Because he has wronged you, and so he hates you. Nothing would please +him better than for you to leave the country." + +"Well?" + +"If you begin to look round for a mortgage, or for securities----" + +"Yes, I see." + +"If you are to get the place, your name must not be given at the outset; +you must buy through an agent or solicitor. You must be ready with the +money on the nail." + +Ralph looked thoughtful for several moments. + +"I'm afraid it's of no use hoping," he said at length; "though when +Robert Telfer handed me over his cheque this evening the world did look +bright for a moment." + +"But if you bought the farm you might lose everything," William +suggested; "and it would be a pity to throw away your first earnings." + +"Why so? There's no good in hoarding money. I want to be doing +something. Besides, I might find work for half the parish." + +"Then you have faith in the tin lode of which your father spoke?" + +"I am confident there is a lode there. My father was not likely to be +mistaken in a matter of that kind. As a practical miner and mineralogist +there was not his equal in the county." + +"But he did not test the lode?" + +"He had no chance." + +"Hence, it may be worthless." + +"I admit it. Mind you, my father was confident that it was rich in tin. +Of course, he may have been mistaken." + +"But you are prepared to risk your all on it?" + +"I am. I wish I had ten times as much to risk." + +The next moment Ruth appeared, with the announcement that supper was +ready. + +"Let me sleep over it," William whispered to Ralph; "and to-morrow +morning you come up to my shop and we'll see what we can make of it." + +And he turned and followed Ruth into the next room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A PARTNERSHIP + + +It was late when William left Ralph Penlogan's cottage, but he was in no +hurry to get to St. Goram. He sauntered slowly along the dark and +deserted lane with his hands in his pockets and his eyes nowhere in +particular. He tried to comfort himself with the reflection that he had +not been selfish--that he had done his best for his Cousin Sam, that he +had spoken the good word that he promised. + +But for some reason the reward of virtue was not so great as he had +hoped. There was no feeling of exultation in his heart at his triumph +over temptation; in truth, he was much more inclined to call himself a +fool for lending aid to his cousin at all. + +This reflection reacted on his spirits in another way. He was more +selfish than he could have believed. He was like the man who gave half a +crown at a collection, and regretted it all his life afterwards. He had +forced himself to speak a good word for his cousin, but there was no +virtue in it. Service rendered so grudgingly was deserving of no reward. + +"I am like the dog in the manger," he said to himself, a little +disconsolately; "I cannot have her myself, and I don't want anybody else +to have her." + +Then he fell to thinking of Ruth's many attractions. He had never seen +anyone before with such a wealth of hair, and he was sure there was no +one in the three parishes who arranged her hair so gloriously as Ruth +did. And then her figure was just perfection in his eyes. She was +neither too short nor too tall, too stout nor too thin. There was not a +single line or curve that he would have altered. + +And her character was as perfect as her form and as beautiful as her +face. William's love shed over her and around her a golden haze which +hid every fault and magnified every virtue. + +By morning he was able to see things a little more in their true +perspective, and when Ralph called he was able to put love aside and +talk business, though he was by no means sure that in business matters +Ruth did not influence him unconsciously. + +Ralph had great faith in William's judgment and sagacity. He always +looked at both sides of a question before deciding. If he erred at all, +it was on the side of excessive caution. + +Ralph could not help wondering what was in William's mind. He had said +practically nothing the previous evening. He had asked a few questions, +and pointed out certain difficulties, but he had committed himself to +nothing, yet it seemed clear that he had some scheme in his mind which +he would reveal when he had duly considered it. + +For a few minutes they talked generalities, then William plunged into +the subject that was uppermost in the thoughts of both. + +"I don't wonder that you want to get hold of the freehold of Hillside," +he said. "I should if I were in your place. Apart from sentiment, the +business side appeals strongly. The discovery of a good tin lode there +would be the making of St. Goram----" + +"And the ruin of the farm," Ralph interjected. + +"Well, the erection of a big engine-house on the top of the hill and +fire stamps in Dingley Bottom would certainly not improve the appearance +of things from an artistic point of view." + +"'There is no gain except by loss,'" Ralph quoted, with a smile. + +"True; but we all ought to consider the greatest good of the greatest +number." + +Ralph laughed. + +"Don't credit me with virtues I don't possess," he said. "I confess I'm +thinking in the first instance only of myself." + +"Well, I suppose that's only natural," William said seriously. "But now +to business. If you purchase the farm at the squire's price, how much +money will you require beyond what you have?" + +Ralph named the sum. + +"Is that all?" + +"Yes. I told you last night the concrete had turned out well." + +"It can be done easily," William said, with a sudden brightening of his +face. + +"How?"--with an eager look. + +"I will advance you all the money you want, either as a loan or on +mortgage." + +"You really mean it?" + +"I do. But on one condition--and that is that you do not say anything to +your sister about it." + +"But why not? I have no secrets from Ruth." + +William coloured and looked uncomfortable. + +"It's merely a whim of mine," he said. "Women don't understand business, +and she might think I was doing you a great favour, and I don't want her +to think anything of the kind." + +"But you are doing me an immense favour!" + +"I'm not, really. The margin of security will be, if not ample, at least +sufficient; and if the lode should prove of value, why, you will be able +to pay off the loan in no time." + +"If the lode should prove of any value, William, you shall go shares!" +Ralph said impulsively. + +"No, no! If I take no risk, I take no reward. You will risk everything +in testing the thing." + +"I'm fond of risks," Ralph said, with a laugh. "A little adventure is +the very spice of life. Oh, I do hope the farm is not already sold!" + +"I don't think it can be," William answered. "We have wasted no time +yet. If it is sold, you will have to wait, and hope the buyer will get +tired of his bargain." + +Ralph shook his head. + +"If I can't get it now," he said, "I shall try my fortune beyond the +seas." + +"Well, we needn't wait an hour longer. You can have my trap to drive to +St. Hilary. Let some lawyer whom you can trust act for you." + +"Won't you go with me?" Ralph questioned eagerly. "You see, the question +of security will come up first thing." + +"It would be almost better if you could keep out of sight altogether." + +"I know it. Couldn't you see the whole thing through for me?" + +"I might try." + +Half an hour later Ralph had sent word to Ruth that he would not be home +till evening, and was driving away with William Menire in the direction +of St. Hilary. + +They were both too excited to talk much. Ralph felt as though the whole +universe were trembling in the balance. If he failed, there would be +nothing left worth considering. If he succeeded, paradise threw open her +gates to him. + +Far away beyond the hills there was a great city called London, and in +that city dwelt one who was more to him than all the world beside. She +was out of his reach because he was poor and nameless and obscure. But +if he won for himself a position, what was to hinder him from wooing +her, and perhaps winning her? Money for its own sake he cared nothing +for. The passion for position had never been a factor in his life. He +loved beautiful things--art and music and literature--partly from +instinct, and partly because he had been educated to appreciate them, +but there was not an ounce of snobbery in his composition. He had no +reverence for rank as such, or for mere social position, but he had +sense enough to recognise their existence, and the part they played in +the evolution of the race. He could not get rid of things by shutting +his eyes to their existence. + +So they drove along the quiet road mainly in silence. Each was busy with +his own thoughts. Each had a secret that he dared not reveal to the +other. + +"I believe you will win," William said abruptly after a long interval of +silence. "I always said you would." + +"Win?" Ralph questioned absently, for he was thinking of Dorothy Hamblyn +at the time. + +"Your father was a shrewd man where mineral was concerned." + +"Yes. And yet he loved corn and cows far more than copper and tin." + +"I wouldn't mind being in your place." + +"You would not be afraid of the risk?" + +"No. I would like it." + +"Then let's go shares!" Ralph said eagerly. "It's what I've wanted all +along, but did not like to propose it." + +"You really mean it?" + +"My dear fellow, it is what I would desire above everything else! You +have business capacity, and I haven't a scrap." + +"If I were sure I could help you." + +"We should help each other; but the gain would be chiefly mine." + +"Partnerships don't always turn out well," William said reflectively. + +"I'll gladly risk it," Ralph answered, with a laugh. + +William dropped his driving whip into the socket and reached across his +hand. It was his way of sealing the contract. + +Ralph seized it in a moment. + +"This is the proudest day of my life!" William said. And there were +distinct traces of emotion in his voice. + +"I hope you will not be sorry later on," Ralph answered dubiously. + +"Never!" was the firm reply. And he thought of Ruth, and wondered what +the future had in store for him. + +For the rest of the way they drove in silence. There were things in the +lives of both too sacred to be talked about. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +FOOD FOR REFLECTION + + +There was widespread interest of a mild kind when it became known in St. +Goram that Sir John Hamblyn had disposed of the freehold of Hillside +Farm. It was an action altogether unprecedented in the history of the +Hamblyn family. What it portended no one knew, but it seemed to +crystallise into a concrete fact all the rumours that had been in +circulation for the last two or three years. + +The first news reached Farmer Jenkins in a letter from Sir John. It was +brief and to the point:-- + + "I have this day sold the freehold of Hillside Farm. Your new + landlord will no doubt communicate with you shortly.--Yours + truly, + + "JOHN HAMBLYN." + +Farmer Jenkins stared at the letter for a considerable time after he had +mastered its contents. + +"So-ho!" he said to himself at length. "Now I understand why he wanted +the matter of reduction of rent to stand over. 'Cute dog is Sir John. If +he's sold the place on the basis of present rental he's swindled +somebody. I wonder who the fool is who bought it. Anyhow, I won't stay +here after Lady Day." And he pushed the letter into his pocket, pulled a +weather-beaten wideawake hat over his bald pate, and started out in the +direction of St. Goram. + +William Menire was standing behind his desk when Jenkins stumbled into +his shop. He laid down his pen at once, and prepared himself to execute +the farmer's order. + +It was not a large order by any means--something that had been forgotten +on the previous day--and when the farmer had stuffed it into one of his +big pockets he looked up suddenly and said-- + +"You ain't heard no news, I expect?" + +"What sort of news?" William questioned. + +"Oh, any sort." + +"Well, no. There doesn't seem to be much stirring at the present time." + +"More stirring than you think, perhaps," Jenkins said mysteriously. + +"That's possible, of course. Have you been hearing something?" + +"Squire's cleared out, ain't he?" + +"I hear he has practically closed the Manor for an indefinite period." + +"Purty hard up, I reckon." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"Took to sellin' his estate." + +"No!" William said, with a little gasp. + +"It's solemn truth. I got a letter from him just now sayin' he'd sold +Hillside Farm." + +"Sold it?" + +"Them's his very words. Here's the letter, if you like to read it." + +William took the letter and retired to the window. He did not want the +farmer to see his agitation. He had been waiting day after day for +nearly a month for some definite news, and here it was in black and +white. He wondered what Ralph would say when he heard. Once more his +hopes had been blown to the wind. His dream of success, not for the +first time or the second, had been dashed to the ground. + +"Seems definite enough, don't it?" questioned the farmer, coming nearer. + +"Oh yes, there can be no mistake about it," William answered, trying his +best to keep his voice steady. + +"Well, it don't make no difference to me," the farmer said +indifferently. "I've made up my mind to clear out at Lady Day. There +ain't no luck about the place. I keep feelin' as though there was a kind +of blight upon it." + +"Indeed?" + +"The way the squire shoved it on to me wasn't square to David Penlogan. +I can see it clear enough now, and I've never felt quite comfortable +since David died. I keep feelin' at times as though he was about the +place still." + +"Who--David?" + +"Ay. He was terrible fond of the place by all accounts. It was a pity +Sir John didn't let him stay on. He might have been livin' to this day +if he had." + +"Yes, that is quite true; but we must not forget that David is better +off. He was a good man, if ever there was one." + +"Anyhow, the place don't prosper under me, somehow. And if the new +landlord is willin' to lower the rent I shan't stay on. I've got my eye +on something I think'll suit me better." And, turning slowly round, the +farmer walked out of the shop. + +William stood staring at the door long after the farmer had disappeared. +He had seen the possibility of the farm falling into other hands from +the first, but had never fully realised till now how much that might +mean to him. His own future was involved just as much as Ralph's. While +there was a prospect of getting the farm he had not troubled about his +own notice to quit. Now the whole problem would have to be thought out +again. Nor was that all--nor even the most important part. He had seen, +in fancy, Ruth installed in the old home that she loved so much; seen +how Hillside had called to her more loudly and potently than all the +pleadings of Sam Tremail; seen the gulf that now lay between them +gradually close up and disappear; seen her advance to meet him till +their hands had clasped in a bond that only death could break. + +It was a foolish fancy, perhaps, but he had not been able to help it +taking possession of him from time to time, and with the passing of the +days and weeks the fancy had become more and more vivid and real. + +"It is all over now," William said to himself, as he stood staring at +the door. "Ralph will go abroad and leave her alone at home. Then will +come the choice of going away to a strange country or going to Pentudy, +and Sam, of course, will win," and William sighed, and dropped into a +chair behind his desk. + +A minute or two later the door swung open again, and Ralph Penlogan +stalked into the shop. + +William rose at once to his feet, and moved down inside the counter. + +"Well, William, any news yet?" Ralph questioned eagerly. + +William dropped his eyes slowly to the floor. + +"Yes, Ralph," he said, in a half-whisper. "We've missed it." + +"Missed it?" + +"Ay! I've been a bit afraid of it all along. You remember their lawyer +told Mr. Jewell that there were several people after it." + +"Where's Jewell's letter?" Ralph questioned, after a pause. + +"I've not heard from Jewell." + +"Then how did you get to know?" + +"Jenkins told me. He got a letter from Sir John this morning saying he +had sold it." + +"To whom?" + +"He mentioned no name--possibly he didn't know. It went to the man, I +expect, who was willing to pay most for it." + +"Perhaps Sir John got to know we were after it." + +"Possibly, though I don't think Jewell would tell him." + +"Oh, well, it doesn't matter, I suppose," Ralph said, in a hard voice. +"It's all in the day's work." + +"I feel a good deal more upset about it than I thought I should," +William said, after a long pause. + +"Yes?" Ralph questioned. + +"I fancy the spirit of adventure had got a bit into my blood," William +answered, with a gentle smile. "I felt ready to speculate all I had. I +was itching, as one may say, to be at the lode." + +"Such an adventurous spirit needed checking," Ralph said, with a laugh +that had more bitterness in it than mirth. + +"Perhaps so. Now we shall have to face the whole problem over again." + +"I shall try my fortune abroad. I made up my mind weeks ago that if this +failed I should leave the country." + +"Yes, yes. But it comes hard all the same. There ought to be as much +room for enterprise in this country as in any other." + +"Perhaps there is, but we are in the wrong corner of it." + +"No, it isn't that. It is simply that we have to deal with the wrong +people. I grow quite angry when I think how all enterprise is checked by +the hidebound fossils who happen to be in authority, and the stupid laws +they have enacted." + +Ralph laughed. + +"My dear William, you will be talking treason next," he said, and then a +customer came in and put an end to further conversation. + +Ralph went back home, and without saying anything to his sister, began +quietly to sort out his things. + +"I may as well get ready first as last," he said to himself; "and the +sooner I take my departure the better." + +He was very silent when he came down to dinner, and his eyes had an +absent look in them. + +"What have you been doing all the morning?" Ruth asked at length. + +"Sorting out my things, Ruth; that's all." + +She started, and an anxious look came into her eyes. + +"But why have you been sorting them out to-day?" she questioned. + +"Because to-morrow will be Sunday," he said, with a smile, "and you are +strongly opposed to Sunday labour." + +"But still, I don't understand?" she interrogated uneasily. + +"I would like to get off on Tuesday morning if possible." + +"Do you mean----" she began. + +"I shall have to clear out sooner or later, Ruth," he interrupted, "and +the sooner the better." + +"Then you have decided to go abroad, Ralph?" And her face became very +pale. + +"What else can I do?" he asked. "I really have not the courage to settle +down at St. Ivel Mine at fourteen shillings a week, even if I were sure +of getting work, which I am not." + +"And I don't want you to do it," she said suddenly, with a rush of tears +to her eyes. + +"In a bigger country, with fewer restrictions and barbed wire fences, I +may be able to do something," he went on. "At worst, I can but fail." + +"I hoped that something would turn up here," she said, after a long +pause. + +"So did I, Ruth; and, indeed, until this morning things looked +promising." + +"Well?" + +"Like so many other hopes, Ruth, it has gone out in darkness." + +"You have said nothing to me about it," she said at length. + +"No. I did not wish to buoy you up with hopes that might end in +nothing." + +"What was it you had in your mind, Ralph?" And she raised her soft, +beseeching eyes to his. + +"Oh, well," he said uneasily, "no harm can come of telling you now, +though I did promise William that I would say nothing to you about it." + +"Oh, indeed!" she said, in hurt tones. "What has he to do with it?" + +"Well, as a matter of fact, he had nearly everything to do with it." + +"And he had so little confidence in me that I was not to be trusted?" + +"No, sis. William Menire is not that kind of man, as you ought to know +by this time." + +"Then why was I not to be told? Does he take me for a child?" + +"Perhaps he does. You see, he is years older than either of us; but his +main concern was that you should not feel in any way under an obligation +to him." + +"I do not understand." + +"William feels very sensitive where you are concerned. The truth is, he +was going to advance most of the money for the purchase of Hillside." + +"Ralph!" + +"It is true, dear; and until this morning we hoped we should get it." + +"Well?" + +"It has been sold to somebody else." + +For a long time no other word was spoken. Ruth made a pretence of +eating, but she had no longer any appetite for her dinner. Ralph had +given her food of another kind--food for reflection. A dozen questions +that had been the vaguest suggestions before suddenly crystallised +themselves into definite form. + +When the dinner was over, Ralph put on his hat and made for the door. + +"I am going down to Perranpool," he said. "I have one or two things I +want to talk over with Robert Telfer before I go." + +"Don't forget to remember me to Mary," Ruth said, following him to the +door. + +"Anything else?" he questioned, with a smile. + +"Yes. Tell her to come up and see me as soon as ever she is able." + +"All right," and, waving his hand, he marched rapidly away. + +Ruth sighed as she followed him with her eyes. It seemed to her a +thousand pities that his native land had no place for such as he. He was +not of the common order. He had gifts, education, imagination, +enterprise, and yet he was foiled at every point. + +Then for some reason her thoughts travelled away to William Menire, and +the memory of her brother's words, "William is very sensitive where you +are concerned," brought a warm rush of colour to her cheeks. + +Why should William be so sensitive where she was concerned? Why should +he be so shy and diffident when in her presence? Why was he ever so +ready to sing the praises of his cousin? + +She was brought back to herself at length by the sound of horse's hoofs, +and a minute or two later Sam Tremail drew up and alighted at the garden +gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A PROPOSAL + + +Sam did not wait for an invitation. Flinging the reins over the gate +post, he marched boldly up the garden path, and greeted Ruth at the +door. She received him courteously, as was her nature, but a more +sensitive man might have felt that there was not much warmth in her +welcome. + +"I was riding this way, and so I thought I would call," he explained. "I +hope I don't intrude?" + +"Oh no, not at all. Will you come inside?" + +"Thank you, I shall be pleased to rest a few minutes, and so will Nero. +Is your brother at home?" + +"No, he has just gone down to Perranpool." + +"Mr. Telfer has nearly finished his contract, I hear." + +"So I am told." + +"And the company have a mountain of concrete on their hands." + +"Ralph says they are charging so enormously for it. Besides, they have +not sought out new markets." + +"Markets would open if the stuff was not so poor. They managed to hustle +your brother out of his rights without getting his secret." + +"Is that so?" + +"So I am told. I know nothing about the matter myself. I can only repeat +what people are saying. By the by, I suppose you have heard that your +old home has been sold?" + +"Yes." + +"St. Goram seems to be quite excited about it. The people in my cousin's +shop can talk of nothing else." + +"Then you have called on your cousin?" + +"Just to say 'How d'ye do?' But Saturday afternoon appears to be a busy +day with him. Seems a shame that he has to turn out, doesn't it?" + +"It is a shame." + +"Of course, in a measure, it's his own fault. He ought not to have +opposed Lord St. Goram. A man in business ought not to have any +politics, and should keep out of public affairs." + +"But suppose he agreed with Lord St. Goram?" + +"Oh, that would make a difference, of course. A man ought to know on +which side his bread is buttered." + +"And principle and conviction should not count?" + +"I don't say that. A man can have any convictions he likes, so long as +he keeps them to himself; but in politics it is safest to side with the +powers that be." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it. Take the case of my Uncle Ned." + +"I never heard of him," Ruth said innocently. + +"Oh, well, his late landlord was a Liberal, and, of course, my uncle was +a Liberal. Then his landlord became a Unionist, and Uncle Ned became a +Unionist also. Well, then his landlord died and his son took possession. +He's a Conservative and true blue, and, of course, Uncle Ned is a Tory +of the Tories. What is the result? He gets no end of privileges. +Moreover, there is no fear of his being turned out of his farm." + +"And you admire your Uncle Ned?" + +"I think he might be a little less ostentatious. But he knows on which +side his bread is buttered. Now my Cousin William goes dead against his +own landlord; there's all the difference. Result, Ned remains and +prospers; William has notice to quit." + +"I'd rather be William than your Uncle Ned." + +"You would?" + +"A thousand times. A man who places bread and butter before conscience +and conviction is a coward, and a man who changes his political creed to +please his landlord is too contemptible for words." + +Sam turned uneasily in his chair and stared. He had never imagined that +this sweet-faced girl could speak so strongly. Moreover, he began to +fear that he had unconsciously put his foot into it. He had called for +the purpose of making love to Ruth, and had come perilously near to +making her angry. + +How to get back to safer ground was a work of no small difficulty. He +could not unsay what he had said, and to attempt to trim would only +provoke her scorn. Neither could he suddenly change the subject without +considerable loss of dignity. So, after an awkward pause, he said-- + +"Everyone has a right to his or her own opinions, of course. For myself, +I should not be prepared to express myself so strongly." + +"Perhaps you do not feel strongly," she said. + +"I don't think I do," he replied, in a tone of relief; "that is, on +public questions. I am no politician, and, besides, there is always a +good deal to be said on both sides of every question. I try as far as +possible, you know, to keep an open mind," and he smiled benevolently, +and felt well pleased with himself. + +After that conversation flagged. Ruth appeared to be absent-minded, and +in no mood for further talk. Nero outside champed at his bit, and was +eager to be on the move again. Sam turned his hat round and round in his +hands, and puzzled his brain as to how he should get near the subject +that was uppermost in his mind. + +He started a number of topics--the weather, the chances of a fine day +for Summercourt Fair, the outbreak of measles at Doubleday, the price of +tin, the new travelling preacher, the Sunday-school anniversary at +Trebilskey, the large catch of pilchards at Mevagissey--but they all +came to a sudden and ignominious conclusion. + +He rose to his feet at length almost in despair, and looked towards the +door. For some reason the task he had set himself was far more difficult +than he had imagined. In his ride from Pentudy he had rehearsed his +speech to the listening hedgerows with great diligence, and with +considerable animation. He had rounded his periods till they seemed +almost perfect. He had decided on the measure of emphasis to be laid on +certain passages. But now, when he stood face to face with the girl he +coveted, the speech eluded him almost entirely, while such passages as +he could remember did not seem at all fitting to the occasion. The time +clearly was not propitious. He would have to postpone his declaration to +a more convenient season. + +"I'm afraid I must be going," he said desperately. + +"Your horse seems to be getting impatient," Ruth replied, looking out of +the window. + +"It's not the horse I care for," he blurted out; "it's you." + +"Me?" she questioned innocently. + +"Do you think anything else matters when you are about?" he asked in a +tone almost of defiance. + +"I fear I do not understand," she said, with a bewildered expression in +her eyes. + +"Oh, you must understand," he replied vehemently. "You must have seen +that I love you." + +"No, no!" + +"Don't interrupt me, please, now that I've started. Give me a +chance--oh, do give me a chance. I've loved you ever since your father's +sale. I'm sure it's love I feel for you. Whenever people talk about my +getting married, my thoughts always turn to you in a moment. I waited +and waited for a chance of speaking to you, and thought it would never +come; and now that I've got to know you a bit----" + +"But you don't know me," she interrupted. + +"Yes, I do. Besides, William has told me how good you are; and then I'm +willing to wait until I know you better, and you know me better. I don't +ask you to say Yes to-day, and please don't say No. I'm sure I could +make you happy. You should have a horse of your own to ride if you +wanted one, and I would be as good to you as ever I could, and I don't +think I'm a bad sort. Ask my Cousin William, and he'll tell you that I'm +a steady-going fellow. I know I'm not clever, nor anything of that sort; +but I would look after you really well--I would, indeed. And think of +it. You may need a friend some day. You may be left alone, as it were; +your brother may get married. There's never any knowing what may happen. +But if you would let me look after you and care for you, you wouldn't +have a worry in the world. Think of it----" + +She put up her hand deprecatingly, for when his tongue was once unloosed +his words flowed without a break. He looked very manly and handsome, +too, as he stood before her, and there was evident sincerity in his +tones. + +He broke off suddenly, and stood waiting. He felt that he had done the +thing very clumsily, but that was perhaps inevitable under the +circumstances. + +Ruth looked up and met his eyes. She was no flirt; she was deeply moved +by his confession. Moreover, when he spoke of her being alone some day +and needing protection, he touched a sympathetic chord in her heart. She +was to be left alone sooner than he knew. Already preparations had begun +for her brother's departure. + +"Please do not say any more," she said gently. "I do not doubt your +sincerity for a moment." + +"But you are not offended with me?" he gasped. + +"No, I am not offended with you. Indeed, I feel greatly honoured by your +proposal." + +"Then you will think it over?" he interrupted. "Say you will think it +over. Don't send me away without hope." + +She smiled a sweet, pathetic smile, and answered-- + +"Yes, I will think it over." + +"Thank you so much," he said, with beaming face. "That is the most I +could hope for to-day," and he held out his hand to her, which she took +shyly and diffidently. + +"If you can only bring yourself to say Yes," he said, as he stood in the +doorway, "I will do my best to make you the happiest woman in the +world." + +She did not reply, however. From behind the window curtains she watched +him mount his horse and ride away; then she dropped into an easy-chair +and stared into space. + +It is sometimes said that a woman rarely gets the man she wants--that +he, unknowing and unseeing, goes somewhere else, and she makes no sign. +Later on she accepts the second best, or it may be the third best, and +tries to be content. + +Ruth wondered if contentment was ever to be found along that path, if +the heart grew reconciled to the absence of romance, if the passion of +youth was but the red glare of sunrise which quickly faded into the +sober light of day. + +Sam Tremail was not a man to be despised. He was no wastrel, no unknown +adventurer. He was a man of character and substance. He had been a good +son; he would doubtless make a good husband. Could she be content? + +No halo of romance gathered about his name. No beautiful and tender +passion shook her heart when she thought of him. Life at Pentudy would +be sober and grey and commonplace. There would be no passion flowers, no +crimson and scarlet and gold. On the other hand, there would be no want, +no mean and niggling economies, no battle for daily bread. Was solid +comfort more lasting, and therefore more desirable, than the richly-hued +vesture of romance? + +How about the people she knew--the people who had reached middle +life--the people who were beginning to descend the western slope? Had +there been any romance in their life? Had they thrilled at the beginning +at the touch of a hand? Had their hearts leaped at the sound of a voice? +And if so, why was there no sign of it to-day? Did familiarity always +breed contempt? Did possession kill romance? Did the crimson of the +morning always fade into the grey of noon? + +Would it be better to marry without dreams and illusions, to begin with +the sober grey, the prose and commonplace, than begin with some +richly-hued dreams that would fade and disappear before the honeymoon +came to an end? To be disillusioned was always painful. And yet, would +not one swift month of rich romance, of deep-eyed, passionate love, be +worth a lifetime of grey and sober prose? + +Ruth was still thinking when Ralph returned from Perranpool. + +Meanwhile Sam was trotting homeward in a very jubilant frame of mind. He +pulled up in front of William Menire's shop and beckoned to his cousin. + +"I want you to congratulate me, old man," he said, when William stood at +his horse's head. + +William's face fell in a moment, and his lips trembled in spite of +himself. + +"Have you--you--been to--to----?" William began. + +"I've just come from there," Sam interrupted, with a laugh. "Been there +for the last hour, and now I'm off home feeling that I have done a good +day's work." + +"You have proposed to her?" + +"I have! It required a good bit of courage, but I've done it." + +"And she has accepted?" + +"She has not rejected me, at any rate. I didn't ask for a definite +answer right off. But it is all right, my boy, I'm sure it is. Now, give +us your hand. You've been a good friend to me. But for you I might never +have got to know her." + +William reached up his hand slowly and silently. + +"It's often been a wonder to me," Sam said, squeezing his kinsman's +hand, "that you never looked in that direction yourself; but I'm glad +you never did." + +"It would have been no use," William said sadly. "I'm not the kind of +man to take any girl's fancy." + +"Oh, that's all nonsense," Sam said gaily. "I admit that a great many +girls like a fellow with a lot of dash and go, and are not particular +about his past so long as he has a winning tongue and a smart exterior. +But all girls are not built that way. Why, I can fancy you being a +perfect hero in some people's eyes." + +"You must have a vivid imagination," William said, with a smile; and +then Sam put spurs to his horse and galloped away. + +William went back to his work behind his counter with a pathetic and +far-away look in his eyes. He was glad when the little group of +customers were served, and he was left alone for a few minutes. + +He had intended going to see the Penlogans that evening, but he decided +now that he would not go. While Ruth was free he had a right to look at +her and admire her, but he was not sure that that right was his any +longer. + +He wondered if Sam noticed that he did not congratulate him. He could +not get out the words somehow. + +He sat down at length with his elbow on the counter, and rested his head +on his hand. He began to realise that he had built more on the +acquisition of Hillside Farm than he knew. He had hoped in some vague +way that the farm would be a bond between him and Ruth. Well, well, it +was at an end now; the one romance of his life had vanished. His +unspoken love would remain unspoken. + +The next day being Sunday, all the characters in this story had time for +meditation. Ruth and Ralph walked to Veryan that they might worship once +more in the little chapel made sacred to them by the memory of father +and mother. Ruth had great difficulty in keeping back the tears. How +often she had sat in that bare and comfortless pew holding her father's +hand. How she missed him again. How acute and poignant was her sense of +loss. + +She never once looked at her brother. He sat erect and motionless by her +side, but she doubted if he heard the sermon. The thought of the coming +separation lay heavy upon him as it did upon her. + +On their way back Ruth plucked up her courage and told Ralph of Sam +Tremail's proposal the previous afternoon. + +Ralph stopped short for a moment, and looked at her. + +"Now I understand why you have been so absent-minded," he said at +length. "I was afraid you were fretting because I was going away." + +"If I fretted, I should try and not let you see," she answered. "You +have enough to bear already." + +"The thought of leaving you unprotected is the hardest part," he said. + +"Would it be a relief to you if I accepted Sam Tremail's offer?" she +questioned. + +"Supposing you cared for him enough, it would be," he replied. "Sam is a +good fellow by all accounts. Socially, he is much above us." + +"I have nothing against him," she answered slowly, "nothing! And I am +quite sure he meant all he said." + +"And do you care for him?" + +She shook her head slowly and smiled-- + +"I neither like him nor dislike him. But he offers me protection and a +good home." + +"To be free from worry is a great thing," he answered, looking away +across the distant landscape; and then he thought of Dorothy Hamblyn, +and wondered if love and romance were as much to a woman as to a man. + +"Yes, freedom from worry is doubtless a great thing," she said, after a +long pause, "but is it the greatest and best?" + +But she waited in vain for an answer. Ralph was thinking of something +else. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A FRESH PAGE + + +William Menire got up early on Monday morning and helped to tidy up the +shop before breakfast. He was not sorry that the working week had begun +again. Work left him very little time for brooding and introspection. He +had been twice to church the previous day, but he could not remember a +word of the sermons. His own thoughts had drowned the voice of the +preacher. + +"I hope I shall have a busy week," he said to himself, as he helped his +apprentice to take down the shutters. "The less I think the happier I +shall be." + +During breakfast the postman called. There was only one delivery per +day, and during Sunday there was no delivery at all. + +William glanced at the letters, but did not open any of them. One, in a +blue envelope, was from Mr. Jewell, the solicitor. The postmark bore +Saturday's date. + +"His news is two days late," William reflected. "We really ought to have +two deliveries in a place like this." + +Then he helped himself to some more bacon. His mother was not so well, +and had her breakfast in bed. + +No one called him from the shop, so he was allowed to finish his +breakfast in peace. Then he turned his attention to his correspondence. +The blue envelope was left to the last. + +"I wonder if Jewell knows the name of the purchaser?" he reflected, as +he inserted a small paper-knife and cut open the envelope. He unfolded +the letter slowly, then gave a sudden exclamation. + +"Dear Sir,--I am advised by post this morning that your offer for +Hillside Farm has been accepted, and----" + +But he did not stop to read any further. Rushing into the passage, he +seized his hat, and without a word to anyone, hurried away in the +direction of St. Ivel as fast as his legs could carry him. + +Ralph was standing in the middle of the room measuring with his eye the +capacity of an open portmanteau, when William, breathless and excited, +burst in upon him. Ruth was seated at the table, the portmanteau by her +side. + +[Illustration: "WILLIAM, BREATHLESS AND EXCITED, BURST IN UPON HIM."] + +"I say, Ralph, we've got it," William cried excitedly, without noticing +Ruth. + +"Got what?" Ralph said, turning suddenly round. + +"Got the farm," was the reply. "We jumped to conclusions too soon on +Saturday. Jewell says our offer has been accepted." + +"Accepted!" + +"Ay. Here is the letter, if you like to read it. Shut up your +portmanteau, and take it out of sight. You are not going abroad yet +awhile." + +Ruth, who had risen to her feet on William's sudden appearance, now ran +out of the room to hide her tears. + +Ralph seized the lawyer's letter and read it slowly and carefully from +beginning to end. Then he dropped into a chair and read it a second +time. William stood and watched him, with a bright, eager smile lighting +up his face. + +"It seems all right," Ralph said at length. + +"Ay, it's right enough, but I wish we had known earlier." + +"It would have saved us a good many anxious and painful hours." + +"Never mind. All's well that ends well." + +"Oh, we haven't got to the end yet," Ralph said, with a laugh. "If that +lode turns out a frost, we shall wish that somebody else had got the +place." + +"Never!" William said, almost vehemently. + +"No?" + +"I shall never regret we've got it, or rather that you have, though +there isn't an ounce of tin in the whole place." + +"Why not?" + +"I don't know. One cannot give a reason for everything. But I have a +feeling that this opens up a fresh page in the life of both of us." + +"That's true enough, but everything depends on the kind of page it will +be." + +"I'm not worried about that. The thing that interests me is, the powers +that be are not going to shunt us as they hoped. Lord St. Goram meant to +drive me out of the parish, but I'm not going----" + +"Nor I," Ralph interposed, with a laugh; and he shut up the portmanteau, +and pushed it against the wall. + +"We shall have to keep dark, however, till the deeds are signed," +William said. "We must give Sir John no excuse for going back on his +bargain. I'd wager my Sunday coat, if I were a betting man, that he +hasn't the remotest idea we are the purchasers." + +"Won't he look blue when he discovers? You know how he hates me." + +"Ay, he has made no secret of that. It is rumoured, however, that he is +going to live out of the country, and so he may not get to know for some +time. However, we must walk warily till the thing is finally and +absolutely settled. Also"--and William lowered his voice to a +whisper--"you'd better say nothing yet to your sister." + +"Oh, but she knows," Ralph replied. + +William looked blank. + +"I told her on Saturday what we had been trying to do. I thought she +might as well know when the thing, as we thought, had come to an end. +Besides, she heard what you said when you came in." + +"I forgot all about her for the moment," William said absently. +"Perhaps, after all, it is as well she knows. I hope, however, she will +not feel in any way obligated to me." + +"My dear fellow, what are you talking about?" Ralph said, with a smile. +"Why, we owe nearly everything to you." + +"No, no. I couldn't have done less, and so far I have received far more +than I gave. But I must be getting back, or things will have got tied +into a knot," and putting on his hat, he hurried away. + +Ruth came back into the room as soon as William had disappeared. Her +eyes were still red and her lashes wet with tears, but there was a +bright, happy smile on her lips. + +"Oh, Ralph," she said, "isn't it almost too good to be true?" + +"It may not be so good as it looks," he said, in a tone of banter. + +"Oh, it must be, Ralph; for, of course, we shall go back again to +Hillside to live." + +"But we can't live on nothing, you know, and the whole thing may turn +out a frost." + +"But you are quite sure it won't, or you and William Menire would not be +so elated at getting it." + +"Are we elated?" + +"You are. You can hardly contain yourself at this moment. You would like +to get on the top of the house and shout." + +"Which would be a very unwise thing to do. We must not breathe a word to +anyone till the thing is absolutely settled." + +"And what will you do then?" + +"Begin prospecting. If I can get as much out of the place as father sunk +in it I shall be quite content." + +During the next few weeks William Menire and the Penlogans saw a good +deal of each other. Nearly every evening after his shutters had been put +up William stole away to St. Ivel. He and Ralph had so many plans to +discuss and so many schemes to mature. Ruth was allowed to listen to all +the debates, and frequently she was asked to give advice. + +It was in some respects a very trying time for William. The more he saw +of Ruth the more he admired her. She seemed to grow bonnier every day. +The sound of her voice stirred his heart like music, her smile was like +summer sunshine. Moreover, she treated him with increasing courtesy, and +even tenderness, so much so that it became a positive pain to him to +hide his affection. And yet he wanted to be perfectly loyal to his +Cousin Sam. Sam had proposed to her, Sam was waiting for an answer, if +he had not already received it, and it would be a very uncousinly act to +put the smallest obstacle in the way. + +Not that William supposed for a moment that he could ever be a rival to +Sam in any true sense of the word. On the other hand, he knew that Ruth +was of so generous and grateful a nature that she might be tempted to +accept him out of pure gratitude if he were bold enough and base enough +to propose to her. + +So William held himself in check with a firm hand and made no sign, but +what the effort cost him no one knew. To sit in the same room with her +evening after evening, to watch the play of her features and see the +light sparkle in her soft brown eyes, and yet never by word or look +betray the passion that was consuming him, was an experience not given +to many men. + +He was too loyal to his ideals ever to dream of marriage for any cause +less than love. Possession was not everything, nor even the greatest +thing. If he could have persuaded himself that there was even the +remotest possibility of Ruth loving him, he would have gone on his knees +to her every day in the week, and would have gladly waited any time she +might name. + +But he had persuaded himself of the very opposite. He was a dozen years +her senior. While she was in the very morning of her youth, he was +rapidly nearing youth's eventide. That she could ever care for him, +except in a friendly or sisterly fashion, seemed an utter impossibility. +The thought never occurred to him but he attempted to strangle it at +once. + +So the days wore away, and lengthened into weeks, and then the news +leaked out in St. Goram that William and Ralph had gone into partnership +and had purchased Hillside Farm. For several days little else was talked +about. What could it mean? What object could they have in view? For +agricultural purposes the place was scarcely worth buying; besides, +William Menire knew absolutely nothing about farming, while most people +knew that Ralph's tastes did not lie in that direction. + +A few people blamed Ralph for "fooling William out of his money," for +they rightly surmised that it was chiefly William's money that had +purchased the estate. Others whispered maliciously that William had +befriended Ralph simply that he might win favour with Ruth; but the +majority of people said that William was much too 'cute a business man +to be influenced by anybody, whether man or woman, and that if he had +invested his money in Hillside Farm he had very good reasons for doing +it. The only sensible attitude, therefore, was to wait and see what time +would bring forth. + +One of the first things Ralph did as soon as the deeds were signed was +to send for Jim Brewer. He had heard that the young miner was out of +work, and in sore need. He had heard also that Jim had never forgiven +himself for not confessing at the outset that it was he who shot the +squire by mistake. + +Ralph had never seen the young fellow since he came out of prison, and +had never desired to see him. He had no love for cowards, and was keenly +resentful of the part Brewer had played. Time, however, had softened his +feelings. The memory of those dark and bitter months was slowly fading +from his mind. Moreover, poor Brewer had suffered enough already for the +wrong he had done. He had been boycotted and shunned by almost all who +knew him. + +Ralph heard by accident one day of the straits to which Brewer had been +driven, and his resentment was changed as if by magic into pity. It was +easy to blame, easy to fling the word "coward" into the teeth of a +weaker brother; but if he had been placed in Jim Brewer's circumstances, +would he have acted a nobler part? It was Brewer's care for his mother +and the children that led him to hide the truth. Moreover, if he had +been wholly a coward, he would never have confessed at all. + +Ralph told Ruth what he intended to do, and her eyes filled in a moment. + +"Oh, Ralph," she said, "it is the very thing of all others I should like +you to do." + +"For what reason, Ruth?" + +"For every reason that is great and noble and worthy." + +"He played a cowardly part." + +"And he has paid the penalty, Ralph. Your duty now is to be magnanimous. +Besides----" Then she hesitated. + +"Besides what?" he asked. + +"I have heard you rail at what you call the justice of the strong. You +are strong now, you will be stronger in time, and so you must see to it +that you don't fall into the same snare." + +"Wise little woman," he said affectionately, and then the subject +dropped. + +It was dark when Jim Brewer paid his visit. He came dejectedly and +shamefacedly, much wondering what was in the wind. + +Ralph opened the door for him, and took him into his little office. + +"I understand you are out of work?" he said, pointing him to a seat. + +Jim nodded. + +"You understand prospecting, I believe?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I can give you a job if you are prepared to take it, and you can +begin work to-morrow if you like." + +Brewer looked up with dim and wondering eyes, while Ralph further +explained, and then he burst into tears. + +"I don't deserve it," he sobbed at length. "I did you a mean and +cowardly trick, and I've loathed myself for it ever since." + +"Oh, well, never mind that now. It is all over and past, and we'd better +try and forget it." + +"I shall never forget it," Jim said chokingly, "but if you can forgive +me, I shall be--oh, so happy!" + +"Oh, well, then, I do forgive you, if that is any comfort to you." + +Jim hid his face in his hands and burst into fresh weeping. + +"Forgive my giving way like this," he said at length. "I ain't quite as +strong as I might be. I had influenza a month agone, and it's shook me a +goodish bit." + +"Why, bless me, you look hungry!" Ralph said, eyeing him closely. + +"Do I? I'm very sorry, but the influenza pulls one down terrible." + +"But are you hungry?" Ralph questioned. + +Jim smiled feebly. + +"Oh, I've been hungrier than this," he said; "but I'll be glad to begin +work to-morrow morning." + +"I'm not sure you're fit. But come into the next room--we are just going +to have supper." + +Jim hesitated and drew back, but Ralph insisted upon it; and yet, when a +plate of meat was placed before him, he couldn't eat. + +"Excuse me," he said, his eyes filling, "but the little ones ain't had +nothing to-day, and they can't bear it as well as me. If you wouldn't +mind me taking it home instead?" + +Ruth sprang to her feet in a moment. + +"I'll let you have plenty for the little ones," she said, with trembling +lips. "Now eat your supper, and enjoy it if you can." And she ran off +into the pantry and quickly returned with a small basket full of food, +which she placed by his side. + +"That ain't for me?" he questioned. + +"For you to take home to your mother and the children." + +He laid down his knife and fork and rose to his feet. + +"I'd like to go home at once, if you don't mind?" he said brokenly. + +"But you haven't half finished your supper." + +"I'd like to eat it with the little ones and mother, if you wouldn't +mind?" + +"By all means, if you would rather," Ruth said, smiling through unshed +tears. + +"I should feel happier," he said; and he emptied his plate into the +basket. + +Ralph went and opened the door for him, and watched him as he hurried +away into the darkness. + +He came back after a few minutes, and sat down; but neither he nor Ruth +spoke again for some time. It was Ralph who at length broke the silence. + +"He may be a long way from being a hero," he said, "but he has a lot of +goodness in him. I shall never think hardly of him any more." + +Ruth did not reply for a long time, then she said, "I am glad Brewer is +to begin prospecting for you." + +"Yes?" he questioned. + +"I can't explain myself," she answered, "but it seems a right kind of +beginning, and I think God's blessing will be upon it." + +"We will hope so, at any rate. Yes, we will hope so." + +And then silence fell again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +FAILURE OR FORTUNE + + +Farmer Jenkins was grimly contemptuous. He hated miners. "They were +always messing up things," sinking pits, covering the hillsides with +heaps of rubbish, erecting noisy and unsightly machinery, cutting +watercourses through fruitful fields, breaking down fences, and, +generally speaking, destroying the peace and quietness of a +neighbourhood. + +He told Ralph to his face that he considered he was a fool. + +"Possibly you are right, Mr. Jenkins," Ralph said, with a laugh. + +"Ay, and you'll laugh t'other side of your face afore you've done with +it." + +"You think so?" + +"It don't require no thinking over. Yer father sunk all his bit of money +in this place, in bringing it under cultivation; and now you're throwing +your bit of money after his, and other folks' to boot, in undoin' all he +did, and turning the place into a desert again." + +"But suppose the real wealth of this place is under the surface, Mr. +Jenkins?" + +"Suppose the sky falls. I tell 'ee there ain't no wealth except what +grows. However, 'tain't no business of mine. If folks like to make fools +of their selves and throw away their bit of money, that's their own +look-out." And Farmer Jenkins spat on the ground and departed. + +Jim Brewer pulled off his coat, and set to work at a point indicated by +Ralph to sink a pit. + +That was the beginning of what Ruth laughingly called "Great St. Goram +Mine," with an emphasis on the word "great." + +After watching Jim for a few minutes, Ralph pulled off his coat also, +and began to assist his employee. It did not look a very promising +commencement for a great enterprise. + +The ground was hard and stony, and Jim's strength was not what it had +been, nor what it would be providing he got proper food and plenty of +it; while Ralph could scarcely be said to be proficient in the use of +pick and shovel. + +By the end of the third day they had got through the "rubbly ground," as +Jim called it, and had struck what seemed a bed of solid rock. + +Ralph got intensely excited. He had little doubt that this was the lode, +the existence of which his father had accidentally discovered. With the +point of his pick he searched round for fissures; but the rock was very +closely knit, and he had had no experience in rock working. + +Jim Brewer, as a practical miner, showed much more skill, and when Ralph +returned to his home that evening his pockets were full of bits of rock +that had been splintered from the lode. + +"Well, Ralph, what news?" was Ruth's first question when she met him at +the door. She was as much excited over the prospecting expedition as he +was. + +"We've struck something," he said eagerly, "but whether it's father's +lode or no I'm not certain yet." + +"But how will you find out?" + +"I've got a sample in my pocket," he said, with a little laugh. "I'll +test it after supper," and he went into his little laboratory and +emptied his pockets on the bench. + +By the time he had washed, and brushed his hair, supper was ready. + +"And who've you seen to-day?" he said, as he sat down opposite his +sister. + +"Not many people," she said, blushing slightly. "Mr. Tremail called this +afternoon." + +He looked up suddenly with a questioning light in his eyes. Sam's name +had scarcely been mentioned for the last two or three weeks, and whether +Ruth had accepted him or rejected him was a matter that had ceased to +trouble him. In fact, his mind had been so full of other things that +there was no place left for the love affairs of Sam Tremail and his +sister. + +"Oh, indeed," he said slowly and hesitatingly; "then I suppose by this +time it may be regarded as a settled affair?" + +"Yes, it is quite settled," she said, and the colour deepened on her +neck and face. + +"Well, he's a good fellow--a very good fellow by all accounts," he said, +with a little sigh. "I shall be sorry to lose you. Still, I don't know +that you could have done much better." + +"Oh, but you are not going to lose me yet," she answered, with a bright +little laugh, though she did not raise her eyes to meet his. + +"Well, no. Not for a month or two, I presume. But I have noticed that +when men become engaged they get terribly impatient," and he dropped his +eyes to his plate again. + +"Yes, I have heard the same thing," she replied demurely. "But the truth +is, I have decided not to get married at all." + +"You mean----" + +"I could not accept his offer, Ralph. I think a woman must care an awful +lot for a man before she can consent to marry him." + +"And _vice versâ_," he answered. "Yes, yes, I think you are quite right +in that. But how did he take it, Ruth?" + +"Not at all badly. Indeed, I think he was prepared for my answer. When +he was leaving he met Mary Telfer outside the gate, and he stood for +quite a long time laughing and talking with her." + +"I did not know he knew her." + +"He met her here a fortnight ago." + +"Did Mary know why he came here?" + +"I don't know. I never told her." + +"I am very glad on the whole you have said No to him. Mind you, he's a +good fellow, and, as things go, an excellent catch. And yet, if I had to +make choice for you, it would not be Sam Tremail. At least I would not +place him first." + +"And who would you place first?" she questioned, raising her eyes +timidly to his. + +"Ah, well, that is a secret. No, I am not going to tell you; for women, +you know, always go by the rule of contrary." + +"If you had gone abroad," Ruth said, after a long pause, "and I had been +left alone, I might have given Mr. Tremail a different answer. I don't +know. When a good home is offered to a lonely woman the temptation is +great. But when I knew that you were going to stay at home, and that +Hillside was to be ours once more, I could think of nothing else. Do you +think I would leave Hillside for Pentudy?" + +"But Hillside is not ours altogether, Ruth." + +"It is as good as ours," she answered, with a smile. "William Menire +does not want it; he told me so. He said nothing would make him happier +than to see me living there again." + +"Did he tell you that?" + +"He did." + +"That's strange. I always understood he did his best to bring about a +match between you and Sam Tremail." + +"He may have done so. I don't know. He had always a good word for his +cousin. On the whole, I think he was quite indifferent." + +"William can never be indifferent where his friends are concerned." + +"Oh, then, perhaps he will be pleased that I am going to remain to keep +house for you." + +And then the subject dropped. + +Directly supper was over, Ralph retired to his work-room and laboratory, +and began with such appliances as he had to grind the stones into +powder. It was no easy task, for the rock was hard and of exceedingly +fine texture. + +Ruth joined him when she had finished her work, and watched him with +great interest. His first test was made with the ordinary "vanning +shovel," his second with the aid of chemicals. But neither test seemed +conclusive or satisfactory. + +"There's something wrong somewhere," he said, as he put away his tools. +"I must do my next test in the daylight." + +Ruth got very anxious as the days passed away. She learned from her +brother that he had employed more men to sink further prospecting pits +along the course of the lode, but with what results she was unable to +discover. + +Ralph, for some reason, had grown strangely reticent. He spent very +little time at home, and that little was chiefly passed in his +laboratory. His face became so serious that she feared for the worst, +and refrained from asking questions lest she should add to his anxiety. + +William Menire dropped in occasionally of an evening, but she noticed +that the one topic of all others was avoided as if by mutual consent. At +last Ruth felt as if she could bear the suspense no longer. + +"Do tell me, Ralph," she said; "is the whole thing what you call a +frost?" + +"Why do you ask?" he questioned. + +"Because you are so absorbed, and look so terribly anxious." + +"I am anxious," he said, "very anxious." + +"Then, so far, the lode has proved to be worthless?" she questioned. + +"It is either worthless, or else is so rich in mineral that I hardly +like to think about it." + +"I don't understand," she said. + +"Well, it is this way. The tests we have made so far show such a large +percentage of tin that I am afraid we are mistaken." + +"How? In what way?" + +"If there had been a less quantity, I should not have doubted that it +was really tin, but there is so much of it that I'm afraid. Now do you +understand?" + +"But surely you ought to be able to find out?" + +"Oh yes; we shall find out in time. A quantity of stuff is in the hands +of expert assayers at the present time, and we are awaiting their +report. If their final test should harmonise with the others, why--well, +I will not say what." + +"And when do you expect to hear?" + +"I hope, to-morrow morning." + +"But why have you kept me in the dark all this time?" + +"Because we did not wish to make you anxious. It is bad enough that +William and I should be so much on the _qui vive_ that we are unable to +sleep, without robbing you of your sleep also." + +"I don't think I shall be robbed of my sleep," she said, with a laugh. + +"Then you are not anxious?" he questioned. + +"Not very." + +"Why not?" + +"Because father was not the man to be mistaken in a matter of that kind. +If any man in Cornwall knew tin when he saw it, it was father." + +"I am glad you are so hopeful," he said; and he went off into his +laboratory. He did not tell her that the possibilities of mistake were +far more numerous than she had any conception of, and that it was +possible for the cleverest experts to be mistaken until certain tests +had been applied. + +William Menire turned up a little later in the evening, and joined Ralph +in his laboratory. He would have preferred remaining in the +sitting-room, but Ruth gave him no encouragement to stay. She had grown +unaccountably reserved with him of late. He was half afraid sometimes +that in some way he had offended her. There was a time, and not so long +ago, when she seemed pleased to be in his company, when she talked with +him in the freest manner, when she even showed him little attentions. +But all that was at an end. Ever since that morning when he had rushed +into the house with the announcement that their offer for Hillside Farm +had been accepted, she had been distinctly distant and cool with him. + +He wondered if Ruth had read his heart better than he had been able to +read it himself; wondered whether his love for her had coloured his +motives. He had been anxious to act unselfishly; to act without +reference to his love for Ruth. He was not so sure that he had done so. +And if Ruth had guessed that he hoped to win her favour by being +generous to her brother--and to her--then he could understand why she +was distant with him now. Ruth's love was not to be bought with favours. + +Unconsciously William himself became shy and reserved when Ruth was +about. The fear that she mistrusted him made him mistrustful of himself. +He felt as though he had done a mean thing, and had been found out. If +by chance he caught her looking at him, he fancied there was reproach in +her eyes, and so he avoided looking at her as much as possible. + +All this tended to deepen the reserve that had grown up between them. +Neither understood the other, and William had not the courage to have +the matter out with her. A few plain questions and a few plain answers +would have solved the difficulty and made two people as happy as mortals +could ever hope to be; but, as often happens in this world, the +questions were not asked and the unspoken fear grew and intensified +until it became absolute conviction. + +Ruth did not join her brother and William in the laboratory. She sat +near the fire with a lamp by her side and some unfinished work in her +lap. She caught up her work every now and then, and plied a few vigorous +stitches; then her hands would relax again, and a dreamy, far-away look +would come into her eyes. + +Now and then a low murmur of voices would come through from the little +shed at the back, but she could distinguish nothing that was said. One +thing she was conscious of, there was no note of mirth or merriment, no +suggestion of laughter, in the sounds that fell on her ear. The hours +were so big with Fate, so much was trembling in the balance, that there +was no place for anything but the most serious talk. + +"Nothing seems of much importance to men but business," she said to +herself, with a wistful look in her eyes. "Life consists in the +abundance of the things which they possess. They get their joy out of +conflict--battle. We women live a life apart, and dream dreams with +which they have no sympathy, and see visions which they never see." + +The evening wore away unconsciously. The men talked, the woman dreamed, +but neither the talk nor the dreams brought much satisfaction. + +Ruth stirred herself at length and got supper ready for three, but +William would not stay. He had remained much too long already, and had +no idea it was so late. + +Ruth did not press him, she left that to her brother. Once or twice +William looked towards her, but she avoided his glance. Like all women, +she was proud at heart. William was conscious that Ruth's invitation was +coldly formal. If he remained he would be very uncomfortable. + +"No, I must get back," he said decidedly, without again looking at Ruth; +and with a hasty good-evening he went out into the dark. + +For a few minutes he walked rapidly, then he slackened his pace. + +"She grows colder than ever," he said to himself. "She intends me to see +without any mistake that if I expected to win her love by favours, I'm +hugely mistaken. Well, well!" and he sighed audibly. "To-morrow morning +we shall know, I expect, whether it is failure or fortune," he went on, +after a long pause. "It's a tremendous risk we are running, and yet I +would rather win Ruth Penlogan than all the wealth there is in +Cornwall." + +William did not sleep well that night. Neither did Ralph nor Ruth. They +were all intensely anxious for what the morrow should bring. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +THE PENALTY OF PROSPERITY + + +By the evening of the following day all St. Goram had heard the news; by +the end of the week it was the talk of the county. The discovery of a +new tin lode was a matter of considerable importance, not only to the +few people directly interested, but to the entire community. It would +mean more work for the miner, more trade for the shopkeeper, and more +traffic for the railway. + +The "out-of-works" straggled into St. Goram by the dozen. Mining experts +came to see and report. Newspaper men appeared on the scene at all hours +of the day, and wrote astonishing articles for the weekly press. Ralph +found himself bombarded on every side. Speculators, financiers, company +promotors, editors, reporters, photographers, miners, and out-of-works +generally made his life a burden. He would have kept out of sight if he +could, and turned William Menire on the crowd. But William was busy +winding up his own business. Moreover, his mother was ill, and never +seemed happy if he was off the premises. + +Ralph almost wished sometimes that he had never discovered the lode. Men +came to him for employment who scarcely knew how to handle a shovel, and +he often had to take off his coat and show them the way. He was like a +beggar who had found a diamond and did not know what to do with it. On +all hands people spoke of his good fortune, but after a few weeks he +began to be in doubt. Difficulties and worries and vexations began to +gather like snowflakes in a winter's storm. Lord St. Goram put in a +claim for a certain right of way. The District Council threatened legal +proceedings if he interfered with a particular watercourse. Sir John +Hamblyn's legal adviser raised a technical point on the question of +transfer. The Chancellor of the Duchy sent a formidable list of +questions relating to Crown rights, while Farmer Jenkins wanted +compensation for the destruction of crops which had never been +destroyed. + +"I've raised a perfect hornets' nest," Ralph said to William Menire one +evening, in his little room at the back of the shop. "Everybody seems to +consider me fair game. There isn't a man in the neighbourhood with any +real or fancied right who has not put in some trumpery claim or other. +The number of lawyers' letters I have received is enough to turn my hair +grey." + +"Oh, never mind," William said cheerfully, "things will come out right +in the end! I am sorry you have to face the music alone, but I'm as fast +here as a thief in a mill." + +"I know you are," Ralph said sympathetically. "But to tell you the +candid truth, I am not so sure that things will come out right." + +"Why not?" + +"Because everybody is up in arms against us." + +"Not everybody." + +"Everybody who thinks he can get something out of us. Our little +dominion is surrounded by hostile tribes. I never realised till the last +few days how completely we are hemmed in. On two sides the Hamblyn +estates block our passage, on the third side Lord St. Goram's land +abuts, and on the fourth side old Beecham has his fence and his barbed +wire, and all these people have struck up a threatening attitude. Sir +John is naturally as mad as a hatter that he sold the farm at all. Lord +St. Goram is angry that a couple of plebeians should own land in what he +regards as his parish; while old Beecham, who regards himself as an +aristocrat, sides with his own class, and so between them our fate +promises to be that of the pipkin between the iron pots." + +"But we need not go beyond the bounds of our own property," William +said. + +"There you are mistaken," Ralph answered quickly. "Our small empire is +not self-contained. There is no public road through it or even to it. +Lord St. Goram threatens to block up the only entrance. And you know +what going to law with a landed magnate means." + +William looked grave. + +"Then we must have a 'dressing floor' somewhere," Ralph went on, "and +the only convenient place is Dingley Bottom. Water is abundant there. +But though God gave it, man owns it, and the owner, like an angry dog, +snarls when he is approached." + +"Very good," William said, after a pause, "but don't you see we are +still masters of the situation?" + +"No, I can't say that I do. We are only two very small and very obscure +men with a very limited amount of cash. As a matter of fact, I have got +to the end of mine. In a battle with these Titans of wealth, what can we +do?" + +"Sit tight!" + +"Easier said than done. Your business life in St. Goram has been +terminated. At the present time I am earning nothing. In order to sit +tight, we must have something to sit on." + +"We can farm Hillside, and live on vegetables." + +"Jenkins does not go out till March, and in the meanwhile he is claiming +compensation for damages." + +"We can easily deal with him. He won't go to law; he is too poor, and +has too genuine a horror of lawyers. So he will submit his claim to +arbitration." + +"But even with Jenkins out of the way, and ourselves installed as +farmers, we are still in a very awkward plight. Suppose St. Goram really +contests this right of way--which was never hinted at till now--he can +virtually ruin us with law costs." + +"He would never be so mean as to attempt it." + +Ralph laughed bitterly. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "I can see clearly enough there is going to +be an organised attempt to crush us. As for the question of meanness, +that will never be considered for a moment. We are regarded as +interlopers who have been guilty of sharp practice. Hence, we must not +only be checkmated, but ground into powder." + +"They haven't done it yet," William said, with a cheerful smile, "and +I'm not going to say die till I'm dead." + +Ralph laughed again, and a little less bitterly than before. William's +hopefulness was not without its influence upon him. + +For a while there was silence, then William spoke again. + +"Look here, Ralph," he said; "strength will have to be met with +strength. The strong too often know nothing of either mercy or justice. +One does not like to say such a thing, or even think it, but this is no +time for sentiment." + +"Well?" + +"You know our hope has been to work the lode ourselves; to increase our +plant, as we have made a little money; to employ only St. Goram men, and +give each one a share in the concern. It was a benevolent idea, but it +is clear we are not to be allowed to carry it out." + +"Well?" + +"Two courses are still open to us. The first is to fill in the +prospecting pits and let the lode lie undeveloped. The second is to let +the financiers come in and form a company that shall be strong enough to +meet Lord St. Goram and his class on their own ground." + +Ralph was silent. + +"I know you do not like either alternative," William went on, "but we +are pushed up into a corner." + +"The first alternative will fail for the reason I mentioned just now," +Ralph interposed. "St. Goram will dispute the right of way." + +"And he knows we cannot afford to go to law with him." + +"Exactly." + +"Then we are thrown back on the second alternative, and our little dream +of a benevolent autocracy is at an end. Strangers must come in. People +who have no interest in St. Goram will find the money. A board of +directors will manage the concern, and you and I will be lost in the +crowd." + +Ralph raised his eyes for a moment, but did not reply. + +"Such a plan has its advantages," William went on. "If we had been +allowed to carry out our plan, developments would be very slow." + +"Not so slow. You must remember that the lode is very rich." + +"It would necessarily be slow at the start," William replied. "By +letting the financiers come in, the thing will be started right away on +a big scale. Every man out of work will have a job, and money will begin +to circulate in St. Goram at once." + +"That is no doubt true, but--well, it knocks on the head much I had +hoped for." + +"I know it does; but living in our little corner here, our view may be +narrow and prejudiced. There is honest company promoting as well as +dishonest. Combination of capital need not be any more wrong than +combination of labour. No single man could build a railway from London +to Penzance, and stock it; and if he could, it is better that a company +should own it, and work it, than a single individual. You prefer a +democracy to an autocracy, surely?" + +Ralph's face brightened, but he remained silent. + +"Suppose you and I had been able to carry out our idea," William went +on. "We should have been absolute rulers. Are we either of us wise +enough to rule? We might have become, in our own way, more powerful than +Lord St. Goram and all the other county magnates rolled into one. Should +we have grace enough to use our power justly? We have benevolent +intentions, but who knows how money and power might corrupt? They nearly +always do corrupt. We complain of the way the strong use their strength; +perhaps it is a mercy the temptation is not put in our way." + +"Perhaps you are right, William," Ralph said at length, "though I +confess I distrust the whole gang of company promoters that have been +buzzing about me for the last month." + +"Why not consult Sir John Liskeard? He is our member; he is interested +in the place. He knows most people, and he would at least bring an +unprejudiced mind to bear on the question." + +Ralph gave a little gasp. To see Sir John he would have to go to London. +If he went to London, he might see Dorothy Hamblyn. + +He did not speak for a moment. The sudden vision of Dorothy's face +blotted out everything. It was curious how she dominated him still; how +his heart turned to her constantly as the needle to the pole; how her +face came up before him in the most unexpected places, and at the most +unexpected times; how the thought of her lay at the back of all his +enterprises and all his hopes. + +"It means money going to London," he said at length. + +"We must sow if we would reap," William replied, "and our balance at the +bank is not quite exhausted yet. Don't forget that we are partners in +this enterprise, and in any case we could sell the farm for a great deal +more than we gave for it." + +"We may be compelled to sell it yet," Ralph said ruefully. + +"But not until we are compelled," was the cheerful reply. "No, no; if we +don't win this time, it will not be for want of trying." + +"My experience has not been encouraging," Ralph answered. "In every +struggle so far, I have gone under. The strong have triumphed. Right and +justice have been set aside." + +"You have gone under only to come to the top again," William laughed. + +"But think of father and mother." + +"Martyrs in the sacred cause of freedom," William answered. "The rights +of the people are not won in a day." + +Ralph was silent for a while, then he looked up with a smile. + +"Your judgment is sounder than mine," he said. "I will go to London +to-morrow." + +He had no difficulty in getting an interview with Sir John. The member +for the St. Hilary division of the county had his eye on the next +election. Moreover, he was keenly interested in the new discovery, and +was not without hope that he might be able to identify himself with the +concern. He manifested distinct pleasure when Ralph was announced, and +gave all his attention to him at once. + +Ralph put the whole case before him from start to finish. Liskeard +listened attentively with scarcely an interruption. He smiled now and +then as Ralph explained his own hope and purpose--his benevolent +autocracy, as William called it--and how he had been foiled by the ring +of strong men--strong in wealth and social influence--who threatened to +strangle all his hopes and schemes. + +It took Ralph a long time to tell his story, for he was anxious to leave +no point obscure. Sir John listened without the least trace of weariness +or impatience. He was too keenly interested to notice how rapidly time +was flying. + +"I think your partner has the true business instinct," he said at +length. "It is almost impossible to carry out great schemes by private +enterprise." + +"Then you approve of forming a company?" + +"Most certainly. I have been expecting to see in the papers for weeks +past that such a company had been formed." + +"I mistrust the whole lot of them," Ralph said, with a touch of +vehemence in his tone. "Everybody appears to be on the make." + +"It is of very little use quarrelling with human nature," Sir John said, +with a smile. "We must take men as we find them, and be careful to keep +our eyes open all the time." + +"If someone stronger than yourself ties you to a tree and robs you, I +don't see much use in keeping your eyes open," Ralph answered bluntly. +"Indeed, it might be a prudent thing to keep your eyes shut." + +Liskeard lay back in his chair and laughed heartily. + +"I see where you are," he said at length. "Still, there is a soul of +honour alive in the world even among business men. Don't forget that our +great world of commerce is built on trust. There are blacklegs, of +course, but in the main men are honest." + +"I am glad to hear it," Ralph answered dubiously. "But now to get to the +main point. Will you help us in this thing? William Menire and myself +are both inexperienced, both ignorant, both mistrustful of ourselves, +and particularly of other people." + +"Can you trust me?" Liskeard questioned, with a laugh. + +"Yes, we can, or I should not have come to you." + +"Then I think I may say I can put the thing through for you." + +"It's a good thing," Ralph said warmly. "There is not a lode a quarter +so rich in the three parishes. I question if there is anything equal to +it in the whole county." + +"I have read the assayer's report," Sir John answered. + +"And because it is so good," Ralph went on, "I'd like St. Goram to have +the first claim, if you understand. If there are any preferences, let +them go to the people at home." + +"And your share?" + +"William and I will leave our interests in your hands. You are a lawyer. +All we want is justice and fair play." + +"I understand. If you will dine with me at the House to-morrow night I +think we shall be able to advance the case a step further." + +Ralph got into an omnibus in Fleet Street, and alighted at Westminster. +Thence he made his way into St. James's Park. The weather was raw and +cold, the trees bare, the paths muddy and deserted. He wandered up and +down for the best part of an hour--it was too cold to sit down--then he +made his way across Hyde Park Corner and struck Rotten Row. + +A few schoolgirls, accompanied by riding masters, were trotting up and +down. A few closed carriages rolled by on the macadam road, a few +pedestrians sauntered listlessly along under the bare trees. + +A few soldiers might be seen talking to giggling nursemaids, but the one +face he hungered to see did not reveal itself. He walked almost to +Kensington Palace and back again, by which time night had begun to fall. +Then with a little sigh he got into a 'bus, and was soon rolling down +Piccadilly. + +London seemed a lonely place in the summer time; it was lonelier than +ever in the winter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +LIGHT AND SHADOW + + +By the end of the following May, Great St. Goram Mine was in full +working order. Ralph was installed as managing director; William was +made a director and secretary to the company. Lord St. Goram was in +Scotland at the time, and when he applied for shares he was too late. +His chagrin knew no bounds. He had imagined that he had Ralph and +William in the hollow of his hand. That two country bumpkins, as he was +pleased to call them, would be able to float a company had not occurred +to him. He knew the project that first occupied their thoughts. He knew +that he could make it impossible for them to carry their ideas into +effect. + +His agent had hinted to William that his lordship would be willing to +take the farm off their hands at a price; hence, he believed that by +applying gentle pressure, and waiting, he would be able in a very short +time to get the whole thing into his hands. + +For a few weeks he threatened the company with all sorts of pains and +penalties, but the company was not to be bluffed. Private interest had +to give way before public convenience. Where the welfare of a whole +community was at stake, no petty and niggling contention about right of +way was allowed to stand. The company made its own right of way, and was +prepared to pay any reasonable damage. + +With the company at his back, Ralph laughed in the consciousness of his +strength. He had never felt strong before. It was a new experience, and +a most delightful sensation. He had never lacked courage or will power, +but he had been made to feel that environment or destiny--or whatever +name people liked to give it--was too strong for him. Strength is +relative, and in comparison with the forces arrayed against him, he had +felt weaker than an infant. + +When his father was driven from his home, he had bowed his head with the +rest in helpless submission. When he was arrested on a false and +ridiculous charge, he submitted without protest. When he saw his mother +dying in a workhouse hospital, he could only groan in bitterness of +spirit. When the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company gave him notice to +suspend operations, he had tamely to submit. In fact, submission had +been the order of his life. It had been given to others to rule; it had +been his to obey. + +This would not have been irksome if the rule of the strong had been wise +and just. But when justice was thrust aside or trampled under foot, as +if it had no place in the social order, when equity was only the +shuttlecock and plaything of interested people, when the weak were +denied their rights simply because they were weak, and the reward of +merit was to be cuffed by the tyrant, then his soul revolted and he grew +bitter and cynical in spite of himself. + +Now, however, the tables had been turned. For the first time in his life +he felt himself among the strong. He need no longer sit down tamely +under an injustice, or submit to insults in silence. Success was power. +Money was power. Combination was power. + +He pulled himself up suddenly at length with a feeling almost of terror. +He was in danger of becoming what he had condemned so much in others. +The force and subtlety of the temptation stood revealed as in a blinding +flash. It was so splendid to have strength, to be able to stalk across +the land like a giant, to do just what pleased him to do, to consult no +one in the doing of it. It was just in that the temptation and the +danger lay. It was so easy to forget the weak, to overlook the +insignificant, to treat the feeble as of no account. Strength did not +constitute right. + +That was a truth that tyrants never learned and that Governments too +frequently shut their eyes to. God would hold him responsible for his +strength. If he had the strength of ten thousand men, he still had no +right to do wrong. + +So at length he got to see things in their true proportion and +perspective. The strength that had come to him was only an adventitious +kind of strength, after all. Unless he had another and a better kind of +strength to balance it, it might prove his destruction. What he needed +most was moral strength, strength to use wisely and justly his +opportunities, strength to hold the balance evenly, strength to do the +right, whatever it might cost him, to suffer loss for conscience' sake, +to do to others what he would they should do to him. + +If he ever forgot the pit out of which he had been digged, success would +be a failure in the most direful sense. + +He trembled when he saw the danger, and prayed God to help him. He was +walking on the edge of a precipice and knew it; a precipice over which +thousands of so-called successful men had fallen. + +"Ruth," he said to his sister one evening, with a grave look in his +eyes, "if you ever see me growing proud, remind me that my mother died +in a workhouse." + +"Ralph?" she questioned, with a look of surprise on her face. + +"I am not joking," he said solemnly. "I was never in more sober earnest. +I have stood in slippery places many times before, but never in one so +slippery as this." + +"Are not things going well at the mine?" she asked, in alarm. + +"Too well," he answered. "The shareholders will get twenty per cent. on +their money the first year." + +"And you are a large shareholder," she said, with a look of elation in +her eyes. + +"Besides which, there are the dues to the landlord, as well as the +salary of the manager. Do you not see, Ruth, that this sudden change of +fortune is a perilous thing?" + +"To some people it might be, Ralph." + +"It is to me. It came to me this afternoon as I walked across the +'floors' and men touched their caps to me." + +"But you can never forget the past," she said. + +"But men do forget the past," he answered. "Would you ever imagine for a +moment that Lord Probus, for instance, was not to the manner born?" + +"I have seen him only two or three times," she answered; "but it seems +to me that he is always trying to be a lord, which proves----" + +"Which proves what?" + +"Well, you see, a man who is really a gentleman does not try to be one. +He is one, and there's an end of it; he hasn't to try." + +"Oh, I see. Then forgetting the past is all a pretence?" + +"A man may forget his poverty, but I do not think he can forget his +parents. You need not remember where mother died, but how she and father +lived; their goodness is our greatest fortune." + +He did not make any further reply then, and a little later he put on his +hat and said-- + +"I am going along to see William. He went home poorly this morning." + +"Poorly?" + +"Caught a chill, I fancy. The weather has been very changeable, you +know." + +Ruth felt a sudden tightening of the strings about her heart, and when +Ralph had disappeared she sat down by the window and looked with +unseeing eyes out across the garden. + +She was back again in the old home, the home in which she had spent so +many happy and peaceful years, and from which she had been exiled so +long. She was very happy, on the whole, and yet she realised in a very +poignant sense that Hillside could never be again what it had been. + +It was bound to be something more or something less. Nothing could +restore the past, nothing could give back what had been taken away. + +The twilight was deepening rapidly across the landscape, the tender +green of spring was vanishing into a sombre black. From over the low +hill came fitfully the rattle of stamps which had been erected in +Dingley Bottom, and occasionally the creak of winding gear could be +faintly heard. + +From the front windows of the house there was no change in the +landscape, but from the kitchen and dairy windows the engine-house, with +its tall, clumsy stack, loomed painfully near. Ralph had planted a +double line of young trees along the ridge, which in time would shut off +that part of the farm given over to mining operations, but at present +they were only just breaking into leaf. + +It was at first a very real grief to Ruth that the mine so disfigured +the farm. She recalled the years of ungrudging toil given by her father +to bring the waste land under cultivation, and now the fields were being +turned into a desert once more. She soon, however, got reconciled to the +change. The best of the fields remained unharmed, and the man and boy +who looked after the farm had quite as much as they could attend to. +Ralph did not mind so long as there was a bowl of clotted cream on the +table at every meal. Beyond that his interest in the farm ceased. + +But the mine was a never-failing source of pleasure to him. Tin was not +the only product of those mysterious veins that threaded their way +through the solid earth. There were nameless ores that hitherto had been +treated as of no account because no use had been found for them. + +Ralph began making experiments at once. His laboratory grew more rapidly +than any other department. His early passion for chemistry received +fresh stimulus, and had room for full play, with the result that he made +his salary twice over by what he saved out of the waste. + +William Menire's interest in the mine was purely commercial, and in that +respect he was of great value. He laboured quietly and unceasingly, +finding in work the best antidote to loneliness and disappointment. His +mother was no longer with him. She had joined the silent procession of +the dead. He was thankful for some things that she did not live to see +the winding up of his little business--for it seemed little to him now +in contrast with the wider and vaster interests of the company with +which he was connected. She had been very proud of the shop, +particularly proud of the great plate-glass window her son had put in at +his own expense. + +The edict of Lord St. Goram to restore the house to its original +position had been a great blow to her. She had adored the +aristocracy--they were not as other men, mean and petty and +revengeful--hence the demand of his lordship shattered into fragments +one of her most cherished illusions. + +She did not live to hear the click and ring of the trowel, telling her +that a brick wall was taking the place of the plate glass. On the very +last day of her life she heard as usual the tinkle of the shop bell and +the murmur of voices below. + +When William had laid her to rest in the churchyard he disposed of his +stock as rapidly as possible, restored the house to its original +condition as far as it was possible to do it, and then turned his back +upon St. Goram. + +The little village of Veryan was much nearer the mine, much nearer the +Penlogans, and just then seemed much nearer heaven. So he got rooms with +a garrulous but godly old couple, and settled down to bachelordom with +as much cheerfulness as possible. + +That he felt lonely--shockingly lonely at times--it was of no use +denying. He missed the late customers, the "siding up" when the shutters +were closed, the final entries in his day-book and ledger. Big and +wealthy and important as the Great St. Goram Tin Mining Company was, and +exacting as his labour was in the daytime, he was left with little or +nothing to do after nightfall. The evenings hung on his hands. Books +were scarce and entertainments few, and sometimes he smoked more than +was good for him. + +He went to see Ralph as often as he could find a reasonable excuse, and +always received the heartiest welcome, but for some reason the cloud of +Ruth's reserve never lifted. She was sweet and gentle and hospitable, +but the old light had gone out of her eyes and the old warmth from her +speech. She rarely looked straight into his face, and rarely remained +long in his company. + +He puzzled himself constantly to find out the reason, and had not the +courage to ask. He wanted to be her friend, to be taken into her +confidence, to be treated as a second brother. Anything more than that +he never dared hope for. That she might love him was a dream too foolish +to be entertained. He was getting old--at any rate he was much nearer +forty than thirty, while she was in the very flower of her youth. So he +wondered and speculated, and got no nearer a solution of the problem. + +Ralph was so engrossed in his own affairs that he never noticed any +change, and never guessed that Ruth was the light of William's eyes. + +The idea that William Menire might be in love occurred to no one. He was +looked upon as a confirmed bachelor, and when the public has assigned a +man to that position he may be as free with the girls as he likes +without awaking the least suspicion. + +Ruth sat by the window until it had grown quite dark, and then a maid +came in and lighted the lamp. She took up her work when the maid had +gone, and tried to centre her thoughts on the pattern she was working; +but her eyes quickly caught a far-away expression, and she found herself +listening for the footfall of her brother, while her hands lay +listlessly in her lap. + +Several times she shook herself--metaphorically--and plied her needle +afresh, but the effort never lasted very long. An unaccountable sense of +fear or misgiving stole into her heart. She grew restless and +apprehensive, and yet she had no tangible reason for anxiety. + +William Menire was more her brother's friend than hers, and the fact +that he had caught cold was not a matter of any particular moment. Of +course a cold might develop into something serious. He might be +ill--very ill. He might die. She caught her breath suddenly, and went +and opened the door. The stars were burning brightly in the clear sky +above, and the wind blew fresh and strong from the direction of +Treliskey Plantation. She listened intently for the sound of footsteps, +but the only noise that broke the silence was the rattle of the stamps +in Dingley Bottom. + +Somehow she hated the sound to-night. It grated harshly on her ears. It +had no human tone, no note of sympathy. The stamps were grinding out +wealth for greedy people, careless of who might suffer or die. + +She came in and shut the door after a few moments, and looked +apprehensively at the clock. Ralph was making a long call. + +The house grew very still at length. The servant went to bed. The clock +ticked loudly on the mantelpiece; the wind rumbled occasionally in the +chimney. + +Suddenly the door opened, and her brother stood before her. His face was +flushed, and there was a troubled look in his eyes. + +"You are late, Ralph," she said, scarcely daring to look at him. + +"William is very ill," he said, as if he had not heard her words, +"dangerously ill." + +"No!" + +"Pneumonia, the doctor fears. He is terribly anxious." + +"Who--the doctor?" + +"Yes. If William dies I shall lose my best friend." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +LOVE AND LIFE + + +Ruth lay awake long after she had retired to rest. The fear which had +been expressed by Ralph increased her own a thousandfold. If William +should die, not only would her brother lose his best friend--there was a +more terrible thought than that, a thought which need not be expressed +in words, for nobody understood. + +Somebody has said that a woman never loves until her love is asked for; +that though all the elements are there, they remain dormant till a +simple question fires the train. But love--especially the love of a +woman--is too subtle, too elusive a thing to be covered by any sweeping +generalisation. + +William had never spoken his love to Ruth, never even looked it, yet the +fire had got alight in Ruth's heart somehow. When it began she did not +know. For long she had no suspicion what it meant. Later on she tried to +trample it out; she felt ashamed and humiliated. The bare thought of +loving a man who had never spoken of love to her covered her with +confusion. + +Sometimes she tried to persuade herself that it was not love she felt +for William Menire, but only gratitude mingled with admiration. He had +been the best friend she and her brother had ever known. All their +present prosperity they owed to him, and everything he had done for them +was without ostentation. He was not a showy man, and only those who knew +him intimately guessed how great he was, how fine his spirit, how +exalted his ideals. + +She had never thought much about love until Sam Tremail proposed to her; +but when once the subject stared her in the face she was bound to look +at it. And while she was looking and trying to find what answer her +heart gave, William came with the announcement that the farm was theirs, +and theirs through his help and instrumentality. From that moment she +knew that it was not Sam Tremail she loved. Of course, she had known all +along that Sam was not the equal of his cousin in any sense of the word. +But Sam was young and handsome and well-to-do, while William was +journeying toward middle life, and had many of the ways of a confirmed +bachelor. + +It came to her as in a flash that all true love must be built on +reverence. Youth and good looks might inspire a romantic attachment, a +fleeting emotion, a passing fancy, but the divine passion of love grew +out of something deeper. It was not a dewdrop sparkling on a leaf. It +was a fountain springing out of the heart of the hills. + +With knowledge came pain and confusion. She had not the courage to look +William in the eyes. She was in constant dread lest she should reveal +her secret. She would not for the world that he should know. If he +should ever guess she would die of shame. + +From that day onward she had a harder battle to fight than anyone +knew--perhaps the hardest of all battles that a woman is called upon to +wage. William came and went constantly; helped them when they removed to +Hillside, and was never failing in friendly suggestions. Ralph was so +full of the mine that such small details as wallpapers and carpets and +curtains never occurred to him, and when they were mentioned he told +Ruth to make her own choice. It was William who came to the rescue in +those days, and saved her an infinity of trouble and anxiety. + +Ruth thought of all this as she lay awake, listening to the faint and +fitful rattle of the stamps beyond the hill. Was this brave, unselfish +life to be suddenly quenched--this meek but heroic soul to be taken away +from earth? + +She was pale and hollow-eyed when she came downstairs next morning, but +Ralph was too absorbed to notice it. He too had been kept awake thinking +about William, and directly breakfast was over he hurried away to Veryan +to make inquiries. + +Ruth waited till noon for news--waited with more impatience than she had +ever felt before. She had no need to ask Ralph if William was better. +She knew by the look in his eyes that he was not. After that, the hours +and days moved with leaden feet. Ralph went to Veryan twice every day, +and sometimes three times. Ruth grew more and more silent. Her task +became more painfully difficult. Other people could talk about William, +could praise his qualities, could recount the story of his simple and +heroic life, but she, by her very love for him, was doomed to silence. + +She envied the nurse who could sit by his bedside and minister to his +needs. She felt that it was her place. No one cared for him as she did. +It seemed a cruel thing that her very love should keep her from his +side, and shut her up in silence. + +Ralph came in hurriedly one evening, and sat down to table; but after +eating a few mouthfuls, he laid down his knife and fork, and pushed his +plate from him. + +"I suppose you know William is dying?" he said, without raising his +eyes. + +She looked at him with a startled expression, but did not speak. She +made an effort, but the words froze on her tongue. + +"One should not doubt the Eternal wisdom," he went on huskily, "but it +seems a huge mistake. There are a hundred men who could be better +spared." + +"God knows best," Ruth tried to say, but she was never sure that the +words escaped her lips. + +"He seems quite resigned to his fate," Ralph continued, after a pause. +"The doctor told him this morning that if he had any worldly affairs to +settle he should put them in order without delay. He appears to be +waiting now for the end." + +"He is not afraid?" Ruth questioned, bringing out the words with a great +effort. + +"Not a bit. He reminds me of father more than any man I have ever known. +His confidence is that of a little child. By-the-bye, he would like to +see you before he goes." + +"See me, Ralph?" + +"He expressed himself very doubtfully and timidly, and asked me if I +thought you would mind coming to say good-bye." + +"There could be no harm in it, Ralph?" + +"Not a bit. He has been like an elder brother to us both." + +"Yes--yes." And she rose from the table at once, and went upstairs to +get her hat and jacket. + +"What, ready so soon?" he questioned, when she appeared again. + +"I may be too late as it is," she answered, in a voice that she scarcely +recognised as her own. + +"I will go with you," he said, "for it will be dark when you return." + +For awhile they walked rapidly and in silence, but when the village came +in sight they slackened their pace a little. + +"It is hard to give up hope," Ralph said, as if speaking to himself. "He +was so healthy and so strong, and he has lived a life so temperate and +so clean that he ought to pull through anything." + +"Does the doctor say there is no hope?" + +"He has none himself." + +William was listening with every sense alert. He knew by some subtle +instinct, some spiritual telepathy, that Ruth was near. He caught her +whisper in the hall, he knew her footstep when she came quickly up the +stairs, and the beating of his heart seemed to get beyond all bounds. + +He was too weak to raise himself in bed, but his eyes were strained +toward the door. + +"You will leave me when she comes," he said to the nurse as soon as he +heard Ruth's voice in the hall, and directly the door was pushed open +the nurse disappeared. + +Ruth walked straight up to the bedside without faltering. William feebly +raised his wasted hand, and she took it in both hers. She was very +composed. She wondered at herself, and was barely conscious of the +effort she was making. + +He was the first to break the silence, and he spoke with a great effort, +and with many pauses. + +"Will you not sit there, where I can see you?" he said, indicating a +chair close to the bedside. "It is very good of you to come. I thought +you would, for you have always been kind to me." + +The tears came very near her eyes, but she resolutely raised her hand to +hide them from William. + +"You and your brother have been my dearest friends," he went on. "Ralph +is a noble fellow, and I do not wonder that you are proud of him. It has +been a great joy to me to know him--to know you both." + +"That feeling has been mutual," Ruth struggled to say; but William +scarcely waited to hear her out. Perhaps he felt that what he had to say +must be said quickly. + +"I thought I would like to tell you how much I have valued your +friendship--there can be no harm in that, can there?" + +"Why, no," she interposed. + +"But that is not all," he went on. "I want to say something more, and +there surely can be no harm in saying it now. I am nearing the end, the +doctor says." + +"Say anything you like," she interrupted, in a great sob of emotion. + +"You cannot be angry with me now," he continued. "You might have been +had I told you sooner. I know I have been very presumptuous, very +daring, but I could not help it. You stole my heart unconsciously. I +loved you in those dark days when you lived in the little cottage at St. +Goram. I wanted to help you then. And oh, Ruth, I have loved you ever +since--not with the blind, unreasoning passion of youth, but with the +deep, abiding reverence of mature years. My love for you is the +sweetest, purest, strongest thing I have ever cherished; and now that I +am going hence the impulse became so strong that I could not resist +telling you." + +She turned to him suddenly, her eyes swimming in tears. + +"Oh, William----" Then her voice faltered. + +"You are not angry with me, Ruth?" he questioned, almost in a whisper. + +"Angry with you? Oh, William----But why did you not tell me before?" + +"I was afraid to tell you, Ruth--afraid to put an end to our +friendship." + +She knelt down on the floor by his bedside and laid her face on his +hand, and he felt her hot tears falling like rain. + +For awhile neither of them spoke again; then she raised her head +suddenly, and with a pitiful smile on her face she said-- + +"You must not die, William!" + +"Not die?" he questioned. + +"No, no! For my sake you must get better," and she looked eagerly and +earnestly into his eyes, as though she would compel assent to her words. + +"Why for your sake?" he asked slowly and musingly. + +"Why? Oh, William, do you not understand? Can you not see----" + +"Surely--surely," he said, a great light breaking over his face, "you +cannot mean that--that----" + +"But I do mean it," she interrupted. "How could I mean anything else?" + +He half rose in bed, as if inspired with new strength, then lay back +again with a weary and long-drawn sigh. She rose quickly to her feet, +and bent over him with a little cry. A pallor so deathly stole over his +face that she thought he was dying. + +After a few moments he rallied again, and smiled reassuringly. Then the +nurse came back into the room. + +"You will come again?" he whispered, holding out his hand. + +She answered him with a smile, and then hurried down the stairs. + +She gave no hint to Ralph of what had passed between them, and during +the journey home through the darkness very little was said; but she +walked with a more buoyant step than during the outward journey, and in +her eye there was a brighter light, though Ralph did not see it. + +She scarcely slept at all that night. She spent most of the time on her +knees in prayer. Before Ralph got down to breakfast she had been to +Veryan and back again. She did not allude, however, to this second +journey. William was still alive, and in much the same condition. + +For nearly two days he dwelt in the valley of the shadow, and no one +could tell whether the angel of life or of death would prevail. The +doctor looked in every few hours, and did all that human skill could do. +William, though too spent to talk, and almost too weak to open his eyes, +was acutely conscious of what was taking place. + +To the onlookers it seemed as if he was passing into a condition of +coma, but it was not so. He was fighting for life with all the will +power he possessed. He had something to live for now. A new hope was in +his heart, a new influence was breathing upon him. So he fought back the +destroying angel inch by inch, and in the end prevailed. + +There came a day when Ruth again sat by his bedside, holding his hand. + +"I am getting better, sweetheart," he said, in a whisper. + +"Yes, William." + +"Your love and prayers have pulled me through." + +"I could not let you go," she said. + +"God has been very merciful," he answered reverently. "Next to His love +the most wonderful thing is yours." + +"Why should it be wonderful?" she asked, with a smile. + +"You are so beautiful," he answered, "and I am so unworthy, and so----" + +But she laid her hand upon his mouth and smothered the end of the +sentence. + +When once he had turned the corner he got better rapidly, but long +before he was able to leave the house all St. Goram knew that Ruth +Penlogan had promised to be his wife. + +Ralph saw very little of his sister in those days, she spent so much of +her time in going and coming between Hillside and Veryan. Fortunately +the affairs of the mine kept his hands occupied and his thoughts busy, +otherwise he would have felt himself neglected and alone. + +It was not without a pang he saw the happiness of William and his +sister. Not that he envied them; on the contrary, he rejoiced in their +newly found joy; and yet their happiness did accentuate his own +heartache and sense of loss. + +A year had passed since that memorable day in St. James's Park when he +told Dorothy Hamblyn that he loved her. He often smiled at his temerity, +and wondered what spirit of daring or of madness possessed him. + +He had tried hard since, as he had tried before, to forget her, but +without success. For good or ill she held his heart in bondage. What had +become of her he did not know. Hamblyn Manor was in possession of the +gardener and his wife, and one other servant. There were rumours that +some "up-the-country" people had taken it furnished for a year, but as +far as he knew no one as yet had appeared on the scene. Sir John, it was +said, was living quietly at Boulogne, but what had become of Dorothy and +her brother no one seemed to know. + +One afternoon he left Dingley Bottom earlier than usual, and wandered up +the long slant in the direction of Treliskey Plantation. His intention +was to cross the common to St. Goram, but on reaching the stile he stood +still, arrested by the force of memory and association. + +As he looked back into the valley he could not help contrasting the +present with the past. How far away that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon +seemed when he first came face to face with Dorothy Hamblyn! How much +had happened since! Then he was a poor, struggling, discontented, +ambitious youth, without prospects, without influence, and almost +without hope. + +Now he was rich--for riches are always relative--and a man. He had +prospects also, and influence. Perhaps he had more influence than any +other man in the parish. And yet he was not sure that he was not just as +discontented as ever. He was gaining the world rapidly, but he was still +unsatisfied. His heart was hungering for something he had not got. + +He might get more money, more power, more authority, more influence. +What then? The care of the world increased rather than diminished. It +was eternally true, "A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the +things he possesseth." + +His reflections were disturbed at length by the clicking of the gate +leading into the plantation. He turned his head suddenly, and found +himself face to face with Dorothy Hamblyn. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +PERPLEXING QUESTIONS + + +There was no chance of withdrawal for either. If Ralph had caught a +glimpse of Dorothy earlier, he would have hidden himself and let her +pass; but there was no possibility of that now. He could only stand +still and wait. Would she recognise him, or would she cut him dead? It +was an interesting moment--from his point of view, almost tragic. + +Wildly as his heart was beating, he could not help noticing that she +looked thin and pale, as though she had recovered from a recent illness. +She came straight on, not hesitating for a moment, and his heart seemed +to beat all the more tumultuously with every step she took. + +If in the long months that had elapsed since he saw her last he had +grown for a moment indifferent, his passion flamed up again to a white +heat at the first glimpse of her face. For him there was no other woman +on earth. Her beauty had increased with the passing of the years; her +character, strengthened and ennobled by suffering, showed itself in +every line of her finely expressive face. + +It was a trying moment for both, and perhaps more trying for Dorothy +than for Ralph. For good or ill she knew that this young man had +affected her whole life. He had crossed her path in the most critical +moments of her existence. He had spoken words almost at haphazard which +had changed the whole current of her thoughts. He had dared even to tell +her that he loved her, when influence was being brought to bear on her +to bestow her affection in another direction. + +There were moments when she felt half angry that she was unable to +forget him. He was out of her circle, and it seemed madness to let his +image remain in her heart for a single moment, and yet the fascination +of his personality haunted her. He was like no other man she had ever +met. His very masterfulness touched her fancy as nothing had ever done +before. If only he had been of her own set she would have made a hero of +him. + +When she left him in the Park after that passionate outburst of his, she +made up her mind that she must forget him--utterly and absolutely. The +situation had become dangerous; her heart was throbbing so wildly that +she could scarcely bear it; the tense glow and passion of his words rang +through her brain like the clashing of bells; her nerves were tingling +to her finger-tips. + +"Oh, what madness all this is," she said to herself--"what utter +madness!" And yet all the while her heart seemed to be leaping +exultantly. This clever, daring, handsome democrat loved her--loved her. +She lingered over the words unconsciously. + +Lord Probus had said he loved her, and had tempted her with a thousand +brilliant toys; Archie Temple--with whom she had walked in the Park more +than once--had professed unbounded and undying devotion; but her heart +had never leaped for a moment in response to their words. The only man +who moved her against her will, and sent the blood rushing through her +veins like nectar, was this son of the people, this man who hated her +class and tried his best to hate her. + +Nevertheless, her resolve was fixed and definite. She must forget him. +Unless she put him out of her thoughts he would spoil her whole life. +Socially, they belonged to different hemispheres. The fact that her +father was hard pressed for money, and was living abroad in order to +economise, did not alter their relative positions. A Hamblyn was still a +Hamblyn, though he lived in an almshouse. + +It was easier, however, to make good resolves than to carry them into +effect. Events would not allow her to forget. As the companion and +private secretary of the Dowager Duchess of Flint, she had to read the +papers every day, and not only the political articles, but the +commercial and financial. The success of the Great St. Goram Mine was +talked of far and wide, and the new discoveries of Ralph Penlogan, the +brilliant young chemist and mineralogist, were the theme of numberless +newspaper articles. Dorothy found herself searching all the papers that +came her way for some mention of his name, and her heart seemed to leap +into her mouth every time she saw it in print. + +The dowager often dabbled in stocks and shares for want of something +better to do. She liked to have what she called a "flutter" now and +then, and she managed to pick up a few Great St. Goram shares at eighty +per cent. premium. + +It came out one day in conversation that Dorothy knew the exact locality +of Great St. Goram Mine, knew the young man who had made the discovery, +knew all about the place and all about the people, in fact. The +dowager's interest grew. She began to make inquiries, and finally +decided to rent Hamblyn Manor for a year. Dorothy was in a transport of +excitement. To go back again to the dear old home would be like heaven, +even though her father and Geoffrey were not there. + +But that was not all. She would see Ralph Penlogan again--that would be +inevitable. It seemed as though the Fates had determined to throw them +together. The battle was not ended yet, it was only beginning. + +The second day after their arrival at Hamblyn Manor she went for a long +walk through the plantation. It was a lovely afternoon. The summer glory +lay upon land and sea. She stood still for several moments when she came +to the spot where she had found Ralph Penlogan lying senseless. How +vividly every circumstance came up before her, how well she remembered +his half-conscious talk. She did not see Ralph leaning against the stile +when she pushed open the gate, and yet she half expected he would be +there. It was the place where they first met, and Fate, or Destiny, or +Providence, had a curious way of bringing them together, and she would +have to face the inevitable, whatever it might be. + +She was not in the least surprised when she caught sight of him, nor did +she feel any inclination to turn back. Life was being shaped for her. +She was in the grasp of a power stronger than her own will. + +She looked at him steadily, and her face paled a little. He had altered +considerably. He looked older by several years. He was no longer a +youth, he was a man with the burden of life pressing upon him. Time had +sobered him, softened him, mellowed him, greatened him. + +Ought she to recognise him? For recognition would mean condoning his +daring, and if she condoned him once, he might dare again, and he looked +strong enough and resolute enough to dare anything. + +She never quite decided in her mind what she ought to do. She remembered +distinctly enough what she did. She smiled at him in her most gracious +and winning manner and passed on. She half expected to hear footsteps +behind her, but he did not follow. He watched her till she had turned +the brow of the hill toward St. Goram, then he retraced his steps in the +direction of his home. + +He too had a feeling that it was of no use fighting against Fate. Events +would have to take their course. She was not lost to him yet, and her +smile gave him fresh hope. + +He found the house empty when he got home, save for the housemaid. Ruth +was out with William somewhere. + +Ralph threw himself into an easy-chair and closed his eyes. His heart +was beating strangely fast, his hands shook in spite of himself. The +sight of Dorothy was like a match to stubble. He wondered if her beauty +appealed to other people as it did to him. + +Then a new question suggested itself to him, or an old question came up +in a new form. To tell Dorothy Hamblyn that he loved her was one thing, +to make love to her was another. Should he dare the second? He had dared +the first, not with any hope of winning her, but rather to demonstrate +to himself the folly of any such suggestion. But circumstances alter +cases, and circumstances had changed with him. He was no longer poor. He +could give her all the comforts she had ever known. As for the rest, her +name, her family pride, her patrician blood, her aristocratic +connections, they did not count with him. To ask a woman reared in +comfort and luxury to share poverty and hardship and want was what he +would never do. But the question of ways and means being disposed of, +nothing else mattered. He was a man and an Englishman. He had lived +honestly, and had kept his conscience clean. + +He believed in an aristocracy, as most people do, but the aristocracy he +believed in was the aristocracy of character and brains. He did not +despise money, but he despised the people who made it their god, and who +were prepared to sell their souls for its possession. To have a noble +ancestry was a great thing; there was something in blood, but a man was +not necessarily great because his father was a lord. The lower orders +did not all live in hovels, some of them lived in mansions. All fools +did not wear fustian, some of them wore fur-lined coats and drove +motor-cars; the things that mattered were heart and intellect. A man +might drop his "h's" and be a gentleman. The test of worth and manhood +was not the size of a man's bank balance, but the manner of his life. +Sir John Hamblyn boasted of his pedigree and was proud of his title, and +yet, to put it in its mildest form, he had played the fool for twenty +years. + +Ralph got up from his seat at length and walked out into the garden. He +had not felt so restless and excited for a year. The affairs of Great +St. Goram Mine passed completely out of his mind. He could think only of +one thing at a time, and just then Dorothy Hamblyn seemed of more +importance than anything else on earth. + +Up and down the garden paths he walked with bare head and his hands in +his pockets. Now and then his brows contracted, and now and then his +lips broke into a smile. The situation had its humorous as well as its +serious side. + +"If she had been the daughter of anybody else!" he said to himself again +and again. + +But outweighing everything else was the fact that he loved her. He could +not help it that she was the daughter of the man who had been his +greatest enemy. He could not help it that she belonged to a social +circle that had little or no dealings with his own. Love laughs at bolts +and bars. He was a man with the rights of a man and the hopes of a man. + +Before Ruth returned he had made up his mind what to do. + +Meanwhile, Dorothy was sauntering slowly homeward in a brown study. She +felt anything but sure of herself. She hoped she had done the right +thing in recognising Ralph Penlogan, but her heart and her head were not +in exact agreement. The conventions of society were very strict. The +Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans. + +"If only Ralph Penlogan had been in her circle," and her heart leaped +suddenly at the thought. How handsome he was, how resolute, how clever! +Unconsciously she compared him with her brother Geoffrey, with Archie +Temple, and with a number of other young men she had met in the +drawing-rooms of London society. + +The duchess had urged her to be friendly with Archie Temple. He was such +a nice young man. He was well connected, was, in fact, the nephew of an +earl, and was in receipt of a handsome salary which a generous +Government paid him for doing nothing. He was a type of a great many +others, impecunious descendants, many of them, of younger +sons--drawling, effeminate, shallow-pated nobodies. Socially, of course, +they belonged to what is called society printed with a capital S, but +that was the highest testimonial that could be given them. + +Dorothy found herself unconsciously revolting against the conventional +view of life and the ethics of the social Ten Commandments. Were the +mere accidents of birth the only things to be considered? Was a man less +noble because he was born in a stable and cradled in a manger? Did +greatness consist in possessing an estate and a title? Was worth to be +measured by the depth of a man's pocket? + +Measured by any true standard, she felt instinctively that Ralph +Penlogan overtopped every other man she had met. How bravely he had +fought, how patiently he had endured, how gloriously he had triumphed. +If achievement counted for anything, if to live purely and do something +worthy were the hall-marks of a gentleman, then he belonged to the +world's true aristocracy, he was worth all the Archie Temples of London +rolled into one. + +Before she reached Hamblyn Manor another question was hammering at her +brain-- + +"Did Ralph Penlogan still love her?" + +She looked apprehensively right and left, and was half afraid lest her +thoughts should take shape and reveal themselves to other people. + +What would people think if they knew she had put such a question to +herself? Had she forgotten that she was the daughter of Sir John +Hamblyn? + +No, she had not forgotten; but she was learning the truth that true +worth is not in title, or name, or fortune; that neither coronet nor +crown can make men; that fools clad in sables are fools still, and +rogues in mansions are still rogues. + +The love of a man like Ralph Penlogan was not a thing to resent. It was +something to be proud of and to be grateful for. + +She retired to rest that night with a strange feeling of wonder in her +heart. She was still uncertain of herself. + +"Suppose Ralph Penlogan still loved her, and suppose----" She hid her +face in the bedclothes and blushed in spite of herself. + +He was fearless, she knew, and unconventional, and had no respect for +names, or titles, or pedigrees as such. Moreover, he was not the man to +be discouraged by small obstacles or turned aside by feeble excuses, and +if he chose to cross her path she could not very well avoid him. The +place was comparatively small, the walks were few, and during this +glorious weather she could not dream of remaining indoors. + +She had encouraged him that afternoon by recognising him. She had smiled +at him in her most gracious way; and so, of course, he would know that +she had forgiven him for speaking to her as he had done when last they +met. And if he should seek her out; if, in his impetuous way, he should +tell her he loved her still; if he should ask for an answer, and for an +immediate answer. If--if---- + +She was still wondering when she fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +LOVE OR FAREWELL + + +With Ralph Penlogan, resolution usually meant action. Having made up his +mind to do a thing, he did not loiter long on the way. In any case, he +could only be rebuffed, and he preferred to know the truth at once to +waiting in doubt and uncertainty. A less impetuous nature would have +seen many more lions in the way than he did. For a son of the masses to +woo a daughter of the classes was an unheard-of thing, and had he taken +anyone into his confidence he would have been dissuaded from the +enterprise. + +In this matter, however, he did not wear his heart upon his sleeve. So +carefully had he guarded his secret, that even Ruth was under the +impression that if he had ever been in love with Dorothy Hamblyn, he had +outgrown the infatuation. Her name had not been mentioned for months, +and she had been so long absent from St. Goram that it scarcely seemed +probable that a youthful fancy would survive the long separation. + +Ralph did not tell her that the squire's "little maid" had once more +appeared on the scene. She would hear soon enough from other sources. He +intended to keep his own counsel. If he failed, no one would ever know; +but in any case, failure should not be due to any lack on his part +either of courage or perseverance. + +He was very silent and self-absorbed that evening, and had not Ruth been +so much taken up with her own love affair, she would not have failed to +notice it. But Ruth was living for the moment in a little heaven of her +own--a heaven so beautiful, so full of unspeakable delights, that she +was half afraid sometimes that she would wake up and find it was all a +dream. + +William was growing stronger every day, and expected soon to be as well +as ever. Moreover, he seemed determined to make up for all the years he +had lost. Ruth to him was a daily miracle of grace and beauty, and her +love for him was a perpetual wonder. He did not understand it. He did +not suppose he ever would. He accepted the fact with reverent gratitude, +and gave up attempting to fathom the mystery. + +He was very shy at first, and almost dubious. He felt so unworthy of so +great a gift, but comprehension grew with returning strength, and with +comprehension, courage. He believed himself to be the luckiest man on +earth, and the happiest. The most difficult thing of all to believe was +that Ruth could possibly be as happy as he. + +Conviction on that point came through sight. It was not what Ruth said; +it was the light that glowed in her soft brown eyes. A single glance +meant volumes. A shy glance darted across the room stirred his heart +like music. + +Ralph watched their growing intimacy and their deepening joy with a +sense of keen satisfaction. William was the one man in the world he +would have chosen for his sister if he had been called upon to decide, +and he was thankful beyond measure that Ruth had recognised his sterling +qualities, and, without persuasion from anyone, had made her choice. + +As the days passed away, Ralph had great difficulty in hiding his +restlessness from his sister. It seemed to him that Dorothy purposely +avoided him. He sought her out in all directions; lay in wait for her in +the most likely places; but, for some reason or other, she failed to +come his way. He spent hours leaning against the stile near Treliskey +Plantation, and on three separate occasions defied the notices that +trespassers would be prosecuted, and boldly marched through the +plantation till he came in sight of the gables of the Manor; but neither +patience nor perseverance was rewarded. He had to return disconsolate +the way he had come. + +Had he been of a less sanguine temperament, he would have drawn anything +but hopeful conclusions. Her avoidance of him could surely have but one +meaning, particularly as she knew the state of his feelings towards her. + +But presumptions and deductions did not satisfy Ralph. He would be +content with nothing short of actual facts. He was not sure yet that she +purposely avoided him, and he was sure that she had smiled when they +met, and that one fact was his sheet anchor just now. + +He went to St. Goram Church on the following Sunday morning, much to the +surprise of the vicar, for both he and Ruth were unswervingly loyal to +the little community at Veryan, to which their father and mother +belonged. Deep down in his heart he felt a little ashamed of himself. He +knew it was not to worship that he went to church, but in the hope of +catching a glimpse of Dorothy Hamblyn's face. + +The Hamblyn pew, however, remained empty during the whole of the +service. If he had gone to church from a wrong motive, he had been +deservedly punished. + +He began to think after awhile that Dorothy had paid a flying visit just +for a day, and had gone away again, and that consequently any hope he +ever had of winning her was more remote than ever. This view received +confirmation from the fact that he never heard her name mentioned. Ruth +had evidently not heard that she had been in St. Goram. Apparently she +had come and gone without anyone seeing her but himself--come and gone +like a gleam of sunshine on a stormy day--come and gone leaving him more +disconsolate than he had ever been before. + +For two days he kept close to his work, and never went beyond the bounds +of Great St. Goram Mine. For the moment he had been checkmated, but he +was not in despair. London was only a few hours away, and he had +frequently to go there on business. He should meet her again some time, +and if God meant him to win her he should win. + +It was in this hopeful spirit that he returned late from the mine. Ruth +brewed a fresh pot of tea for him, and put several dainties on the table +to tempt his appetite, for it had recently occurred to her that he was +not looking his best. + +"What do you think, Ralph?" she said at length. + +He looked up at her with a questioning light in his eyes, but did not +reply. + +"Dorothy Hamblyn is at the Manor." + +"Indeed," he said, in a tone of apparent indifference. "Who told you +that?" + +"She has been there a fortnight!" + +"A fortnight?" + +"Dr. Barrow told William. He has been attending her." + +"She is ill, then?" + +"She has been. Caught a chill or something of the kind, and was a good +deal run down to start with, but she is nearly all right again now. I +wonder if she will come to see me here as she used to do at the +cottage?" + +"Possibly." + +"I hope she will. It would be so nice to see her again. Her father may +be a tyrant, but she is an angel." + +Ralph gave a short, dry laugh. + +"You do not seem very much interested," Ruth continued. + +"Why should I be?" he questioned, looking up with a smile. + +"I thought you used to like her very much." + +"Oh, well, I did for that matter. But--but that's scarcely to the point, +is it?" + +"Well, no, perhaps it isn't. Only--only----" + +"Yes?" + +"Well, I sometimes wonder if you will ever do what William has done." + +"Oh, I fell in love with my sister long before he did." + +"Your own sister doesn't count." + +"She does with William--counts too much, I'm afraid. He's no eyes for +anything else." + +"Oh, go along!" + +"Not till I've had my tea. Remember, I'm hungry." + +Then a knock came to the door, and William entered. He was still thin +and pale, but there was a light in his eyes and a glow on his cheeks +such as no one ever saw in the old days. + +On the following afternoon Ralph made his way up the slant again in the +direction of Treliskey Plantation. It was a glorious afternoon. The hot +sunshine was tempered by a cool, Atlantic breeze. The hills and dales +were looking their best, the hedges were full of flowers, the woods and +plantations were great banks of delicious green. At the stile he paused +for several minutes and surveyed the landscape, but his thoughts all the +time were somewhere else. Hope had sprung up afresh in his heart, and a +determined purpose was throbbing through all his veins. + +After awhile he left the stile and passed through the plantation gate. +He was a trespasser, he knew, but that was a matter of little account. +No one would molest him now. He was a man of too much importance in the +neighbourhood. He hardly realised yet what a power he had become, and +how anxious people were to be on good terms with him. In himself he was +conscious of no change. So far, at any rate, money had not spoiled him. +Every Sunday as he passed through the little graveyard at Veryan he was +reminded of the fact that his mother had died in the workhouse. If he +was ever tempted to put on airs--which he was not--that fact would have +kept him humble. + +The true secret of his influence, however, was not that he was +prosperous, but that he was just. There was not a toiler in Great St. +Goram Mine who did not know that. In the past strength had been the +synonym for tyranny. Those who possessed a giant's strength had used it +like a giant. But Ralph had changed the tradition. The strong man was a +just man and a generous, and it was for that reason his influence had +grown with every passing day. + +Yet he was quite unconscious of the measure of his influence. In his own +eyes he was only David Penlogan's son, though that fact meant a great +deal to him. David Penlogan was an honest man--a man who, in a very real +sense, walked with God--and it was Ralph's supreme desire to prove +worthy of his father. + +But it was of none of these things he thought as he walked slowly along +between high banks of trees. The road was grass-grown from end to end, +and was so constructed that the pedestrian appeared to be constantly +turning corners. + +"I think she will walk out to-day," he kept saying to himself. "This +beautiful weather will surely tempt her out." + +He had made up his mind what to do and say in case they did meet. For +good or ill, he was determined to know his fate. It might be an act of +presumption, or a simple act of folly--that was an aspect of the +question that scarcely occurred to him. + +The supreme factor in the case, as far as he was concerned, was, he +loved her. On that point there was no room for doubt. The mere social +aspect of the question he was constitutionally incapable of seeing. A +man was a man, and if he were of good character, and able to maintain +the woman he loved, what mattered anything else? + +He came face to face with Dorothy at a bend in the road. She was walking +slowly, with her eyes on the ground. She did not hear his footsteps on +the grass-grown road, and when she looked up he was close upon her. +There was no time to debate the situation even with herself, so she +followed the impulse of her heart and held out her hand to him. + +"I thought I should meet you to-day," he said. "I am sorry you have been +ill." + +"I was rather run down when I came," she answered, glancing at him with +a questioning look, "and I think I caught cold on the journey." + +"But you are better now?" + +"Oh yes, I am quite well again." + +"I feared you had returned to London. I have been on the look-out for +you for weeks." + +She looked shyly up into his face, but did not reply. + +"I wanted to know my fate," he went on. "You know that I love you. You +must have guessed it long before I told you." + +"But--but----" she began, with averted eyes. + +"Please hear me out first," he interrupted. "I would not have spoken +again had not circumstances changed. When I saw you in London I was poor +and without hope. I believed that I should have to leave the country in +order to earn a living. To have offered marriage to anyone would have +been an insult. And yet if I had never seen you again I should have +loved you to the end." + +"But have you considered----" she began again, with eyes still turned +from his face. + +"I have considered everything," he interrupted eagerly, almost +passionately. "But there is only one thing that matters, and that is +love. If you do not love me--cannot love me--my dream is at an end, and +I will endure as best I am able. But if your heart responds to my +appeal, then the thing is settled. You are mine." + +"But you are forgetting my--my--position," she stammered. + +"I am forgetting nothing of importance," he went on resolutely. "There +are only two people in the world really concerned in this matter, you +and I, and the decision rests with you. It is not my fault that I love +you. I cannot help it. You did not mean to steal my heart, perhaps, but +you did it. It seems a curious irony of fate, for I detested your +father; but Providence threw me across your path. In strange and +inexplicable ways your life has become linked with mine. You are all the +world to me. Cannot you give me some hope?" + +"But my father still----" she began. + +"You are of age," he interrupted. "No, no! Questions of parentage or +birth or position do not count. Why should they? Let us get back to the +one thing that matters. If you cannot love me, say the word, and I will +go my way and never molest you again. But if you do love me, be it ever +so little, you must give me hope." + +"My father would never consent," she said quickly. + +"That is nothing," he answered, almost impatiently. "I will wait till he +does give his consent. Oh, Dorothy, the only thing I want to know is do +you love me? If you can give me that assurance, nothing else in the +world matters. Just say the little word. God surely meant us for each +other, or I could not love you as I do." + +She dropped her eyes to the ground and remained motionless. + +He came a step nearer and took her hand in his. She did not resist, nor +did she raise her eyes, but he felt that she was trembling from head to +foot. + +"You are not angry with me?" he questioned, almost in a whisper. + +"No, no; I am not angry," she said, almost with a sob. "How could I be? +You are a good man, and such love as yours humbles me." + +"Then you care for me just a little?" he said eagerly. + +"I cannot tell how much I care," she answered, and the tears came into +her eyes and filled them to the brim. "But what does it matter? It must +all end here and now." + +"Why end, Dorothy?" + +"Because my father would die before he gave me to you. You do not know +him. You do not know how proud he is. Name and lineage are nothing to +you, but they are everything to him." + +"But he would have married you to Lord Probus, a--a bloated brewer!" He +spoke angrily and scornfully. + +"But he had been made a peer." + +"What does that matter if Nature made him a clown?" + +"Which Nature had not done. No, no; give him his due. He was +commonplace, and not very well educated----" + +"And do these empty social distinctions count with you?" he questioned. + +"I sometimes hate them," she answered. "But what can I do? There is no +escape. The laws of society are as inflexible as the laws of the Medes +and Persians." + +"And you will fling love away as an offering to the prejudices of your +father?" + +"Why do you tempt me? You must surely see how hard it is!" + +"Then you do love me!" he cried; and he caught her in his arms and +kissed her. + +For a moment she struggled as if to free herself. Then her head dropped +upon his shoulder. + +"Oh, Ralph," she whispered, "let me love you for one brief minute; then +we must say farewell for ever!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE TABLES TURNED + + +Three days later Ralph paused for a moment in front of a trim +boarding-house or pension on the outskirts of Boulogne. It was here Sir +John Hamblyn was "vegetating," as he told his friends--practising the +strictest economy, and making a desperate and praiseworthy effort to +recover somewhat his lost financial position. + +Ralph told no one what he intended to do. Ruth supposed that he had gone +no farther than London, and that it was business connected with Great +St. Goram Mine that called him there. Dorothy, having for a moment +capitulated, had been making a brave but futile effort to forget, and +trying to persuade herself that she had done a weak and foolish thing in +admitting to Ralph Penlogan that she cared for him. + +Love and logic, however, were never meant to harmonise, and heart and +head are often in hopeless antagonism. Dorothy pretended to herself that +she was sorry, and yet all the time deep down in her heart there was a +feeling of exultation. It was delightful to be loved, and it was no less +delightful to love in return. + +Almost unconsciously she found herself meditating on Ralph's many +excellences. He was so genuine, so courageous, so unspoiled by the +world. She was sure also that she liked him all the better for being a +man of the people. He owed nothing to favour or patronage. He had fought +his own way and made his own mark. He was not like Archie Temple, who +had been pushed into a situation purely through favour, and who, if +thrown upon the open market, would not earn thirty shillings a week. + +It was an honour and a distinction to be loved by a man like Ralph +Penlogan. He was one of Nature's aristocracy, clear-visioned, +brave-hearted, fearless, indomitable. His handsome face was the index of +his character. How he had developed since that day he refused to open +the gate for her! Suffering had made him strong. Trial and persecution +had called into play the best that was in him. The fearless, defiant +youth had become a strong and resolute man. How could she help loving +him when he offered her all the love of his own great heart? + +Then she would come to herself with a little gasp, and tell herself that +it was her duty to forget him, to tear his image out of her heart; that +an attachment such as hers was hopeless and quixotic; that the sooner +she mastered herself the better it would be; that her father would never +approve, and that the society in which she moved would be aghast. + +For two days she fought a fitful and unequal battle, and then she +discovered that the more she fought the more helpless she seemed to +become. She had kept in the house lest she should discover him straying +in the plantation. + +On the third day she went out again. She said to herself that she would +suffocate if she remained any longer indoors. Her heart was aching for a +sight of Ralph Penlogan's face. She told herself it was fresh air she +was pining for, and a sight of the hills and the distant sea. She +loitered through the plantation until she reached the far end. Then she +sighed and pushed open the gate. She walked as far as the stile, and +leaned against it. How long she remained there she did not know; but she +turned away at length, and strolled out across the common and down into +the high road, and so home by way of the south lodge. + +The air had been fresh and sweet, and the blue of the sea peeped between +the hills in the direction of Perranpool, and the woods and plantations +looked their best in their summer attire, and the birds sang cheerily on +every hand. But she heard nothing, and saw nothing. The footfall she had +listened for all the time failed to come, and the face she was hungering +to see kept out of sight. + +He had evidently taken her at her word. She had told him that their +parting must be for ever, that it would be worse than madness for them +to meet, and she had meant it all at the time; and yet, three days +later, she would have given all she possessed for one more glimpse of +his face. + +The following day her duties were more irksome than she had ever known +them. The dowager wanted so many letters written, and so many articles +read to her. Dorothy was impatient to get out of doors, and the more +rapidly she tried to get through her work the more mistakes she made, +with the result that it had to be done over again. + +It was getting quite late in the afternoon when at length she hurried +away through the plantation. Would he come to meet her? She need not let +him make love to her, but they might at least be friends. Love and logic +were in opposition again. + +She lingered by the stile until the sun went down behind the hill, then, +with a sigh, she turned away, and began to retrace her steps through the +plantation. + +"I ought to be thankful to him for taking me at my word," she said to +herself, with a pathetic look in her eyes. "Oh, why did he ever love me? +Why was I ever born?" + +Meanwhile Ralph Penlogan and Sir John Hamblyn had come face to face. +Ralph had refused to send up his name, hence, when he was ushered into +the squire's presence, the latter simply stared at him for several +moments in speechless rage and astonishment. + +Ralph was the first to break the silence. + +"I must apologise for this intrusion," he said quietly, "but----" + +"I should think so, indeed," interrupted Sir John scornfully. "Will you +state your business as quickly as possible?" + +"I will certainly occupy no more of your time than I can help," Ralph +replied, "though I fear you are not in the humour to consider any +proposal from me." + +"I should think not, indeed. Why should I be? Do you wish me to tell you +what I think of you?" + +"I am not anxious on that score, though I am not aware that I have given +you any reason for thinking ill of me." + +"You are not, eh? When you cheated me out of the most valuable bit of +property I possessed?" + +"Did we not pay the price you asked?" + +"But you knew there was a valuable tin lode in it." + +"What of that? The property was in the market. We did not induce you to +sell it. We heard by accident that you wanted to dispose of it. If there +had been no lode we should have made no effort to get it." + +"It was a mean, dishonest trick, all the same." + +"I do not see it. By every moral right the farm was more mine than +yours. I helped my father to reclaim it. You spent nothing on it, never +raised your finger to bring it under cultivation. Moreover, it was +common land at the start. In league with a dishonest Parliament, you +filched it from the people, and then, by the operation of an iniquitous +law, you filched it a second time from my father." + +Sir John listened to this speech with blazing eyes and clenched hands. + +"By Heaven," he said, "if I were a younger man I would kick you down +these stairs. Have you forced your way in here to insult me?" + +"On the contrary, it was my desire rather to conciliate you; but you +charged me with dishonesty at the outset." + +"Conciliate me, indeed!" And Sir John turned away with a sneer upon his +face. + +"We neither of us gain anything by losing our tempers," Ralph said, +after a pause. "Had we not better let bygones be bygones?" + +Sir John faced him again and stared. + +"It is no pleasure to me to rake up the past," Ralph went on. "Probably +we should both be happier if we could forget. I don't deny that I vowed +eternal enmity against you and yours." + +"I am glad to hear it," Sir John snorted. + +"Time, however, has taken the sting out of many things, and to-day I +love one whom I would have hated." + +"You love----?" + +"It is of no use beating about the bush," Ralph went on. "I love your +daughter, and I have come to ask your permission----" + +He did not finish the sentence, however. With blazing eyes and clenched +fist Sir John shrieked at the top of his voice-- + +"Silence! Silence! How dare you? You----" + +"No, do not use hard words," Ralph interrupted. "You may regret it +later." + +"Regret calling you--a--a----" But no suitable or sufficiently +expressive epithet would come to his lips, and he sank into a chair +almost livid with anger and excitement. + +Ralph kept himself well in hand. He had expected a scene, and so was +prepared for it. Seizing his opportunity, he spoke again. + +"Had we not better discuss the matter without feeling or passion?" he +said, in quiet, even tones. "Surely I am not making an unreasonable +request. Even you know of nothing against my character." + +"You are a vulgar upstart," Sir John hissed. "Good heavens, +you!--you!--aspiring to the hand of my daughter." + +"I am not an upstart, and I hope I am not vulgar," Ralph replied +quietly. "At any rate, I am an Englishman. You are no more than that. +The accidents of birth count for nothing." + +"Indeed!" + +"In your heart you know it is so. In what do you excel? Wherein lies +your superiority?" + +For a moment Sir John stared at him; then he said, with intense +bitterness of tone-- + +"Will you have the good manners to take yourself out of my sight?" + +"I will do so, certainly, though you have not answered my questions." + +"If I were only a younger man I would answer you in a way you would not +quickly forget." + +"Then you refuse to give your permission?" + +"Absolutely. I would rather see my child in her coffin." + +"If you loved your child you would think more of her happiness than of +your own pride. I am sorry to find you are a tyrant still." + +"Thank you. Have you any further remarks to make?" + +"No!" And he turned away and moved toward the door. Then he turned +suddenly round with his hand on the door knob. + +"By-the-bye, you may be interested to know that I have discovered a very +rich vein that runs through your estate," he said quietly, and he pulled +the door slowly open. + +Sir John was on his feet in a moment. + +"A very rich vein?" he questioned eagerly. + +"Extraordinarily rich," was the indifferent reply. "Good-afternoon." + +"Wait a moment--wait a moment!" Sir John cried excitedly. + +"Thank you, but I have no further remarks to make." And Ralph passed out +to the landing. + +Sir John rushed past him and planted himself at the head of the stairs. + +"You are not fooling me?" he questioned eagerly. "Say honestly, are you +speaking the truth?" + +"Do you wish to insult me?" Ralph asked scornfully. "Am I in the habit +of lying? Please let me pass." + +"No, no! Please forgive me. But if what you say is true, it means so +much to me. You see, I am practically in exile here." + +"So I understand. And you are likely to remain in exile, by all +accounts." + +"But if there is a rich vein of mineral that I can tap. Why, don't you +see, it will release me at once?" + +"But, as it happens, you cannot tap it, for you don't know where it is. +I am the only individual who knows anything about it." + +"Exactly, exactly! Don't go just yet. I want to hear more about it." + +"I fear I have wasted too much of your time already," Ralph said +ironically. "You asked me just now to take myself out of your sight." + +"I know I did. I know I did. But I was very much upset. Besides, this +lode is a horse of quite another colour. Now come back into my room and +tell me all about it." + +"There is really not very much to tell," Ralph answered, in a tone of +indifference. "How I discovered its existence is a mere detail. You may +be aware, perhaps, that I occupy most of my time in making experiments?" + +"Yes, yes. I know you are wonderfully clever in your own particular +line. But tell me, whereabouts is it?" + +"You flatter me too much," Ralph said, with a laugh. "To tell you the +truth, it was largely by accident that I discovered the lode I am +speaking of. Unfortunately, it is outside the Great St. Goram boundary, +so that it is of no use to our shareholders." + +The squire laughed and rubbed his hands. + +"But it will be of use to me," he said. "Really, this is a remarkable +bit of luck. You are quite sure that it is a very valuable discovery?" + +"As sure as one can be of anything in this world. The Hillside lode is +rich, but this----" + +"No, no," Sir John interrupted eagerly. "You don't mean to say that it +is richer than your mine?" + +"I shall be greatly surprised if--if----" Then he paused suddenly. + +"Go on, go on," cried Sir John excitedly. "This bit of news is like new +life to me. Think of it. I shall be able to shake off those Jewish +sharks and hold up my head once more." + +"I don't think it is at all necessary that you should hold your head any +higher," Ralph replied deliberately and meaningly. "You think far too +much of yourself already. Now I will say good-afternoon for the second +time." + +"You mean that you will tell me nothing more?" + +"Why should I? If your justice had been equal to your greed, I might +have been disposed to help you; but I feel no such disposition at +present." + +"You want to bargain with me?" Sir John cried angrily. + +"Indeed, no. What I came about is too sacred a matter for bargaining." +And, slipping quickly past Sir John, he hurried down the stairs and into +the street. + +The squire stared after him for several minutes, then went back into the +room and fetched his hat, and was soon following. + +When he got into the open air, however, Ralph was nowhere visible. He +ran a few steps, first in one direction, then in another. Finally, he +made his way down into the town. He did not go to the wharf, for no boat +was sailing for several hours; but he loitered in the principal streets +till he was hungry, and then reluctantly made his way toward his +temporary home. He was in a state of almost feverish excitement, and +hardly knew at times whether he was awake or dreaming. + +What his exile in France meant to him, no one knew but himself. But his +financial affairs were in such a tangle, that it was exile or disgrace, +and his pride turned the scale in favour of exile. Now, suddenly, there +had been opened up before him the prospect of release--but release upon +terms. + +He tried, over his lonely dinner, to review the situation; tried to put +himself in the place of Ralph Penlogan. It was a profitable exercise. +The lack of imagination is often the parent of wrong. He was bound to +admit to himself that Ralph was under no obligation--moral or +otherwise--to reveal his secret, or even to sell his knowledge. + +"No doubt I have behaved badly to him," Sir John said to himself, "and +badly to his father. He has good reason for hating me and thwarting me. +By Jove! but we have changed places. He is the strong man now, and if he +pays me back in my own coin, it is no more than I deserve." + +Sir John did not make a good dinner that evening. His reflections +interfered with his appetite. + +"Should I tell if I were in his place?" he said to himself. And he +answered his own question with a groan. + +Under the influence of a cigar and a cup of black coffee, visions of +prosperity floated before him. He saw himself back again in Hamblyn +Manor, and in more than his old splendour. He saw himself free from the +clutches of the money-lenders, and a better man for the experiences +through which he had passed. + +But his visions were constantly broken in upon by the reflection that +his future lay in the hands of Ralph Penlogan, the young man he had so +cruelly wronged. It was a hard battle he had to fight, for his pride +seemed to pull him in opposite directions at the same time. + +Half an hour before the boat started for Folkestone he was on the wharf, +eagerly scanning the faces of all the passengers. He had made up his +mind to try to persuade Ralph to go back with him and stay the night. +His pride was rapidly breaking down under the pressure of unusual +circumstances. + +He remained till the boat cast off her moorings and the paddle-wheels +began to churn the water in the narrow slip, then he turned away with a +sigh. Ralph was not among the passengers. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +COALS OF FIRE + + +Ralph returned home by way of Calais and Dover, and on the following day +he came face to face with Dorothy outside the lodge gates. He raised his +hat and would have passed on, but she would not let him. + +"Surely we may be friends?" she said, extending her hand to him, and her +eyes were pleading and pathetic. + +He stopped at once and smiled gravely. + +"I thought it was your wish that we should meet as strangers," he said. + +"Did I say that?" she questioned, and she turned away her eyes from him. + +"Something to that effect," he answered, still smiling, though he felt +as if every reason for smiles had passed from him. + +"I have been expecting to see you for days past," she said, suddenly +raising her eyes to his. + +"I have been from home," he answered. "In fact, I have been to +Boulogne." + +"To Boulogne?" she asked, with a start, and the blood mounted in a +torrent to her neck and face. + +"I went across to see your father," he said slowly. + +"Yes?" she questioned, and her face was set and tense. + +"He was obdurate. He said he would rather see you in your coffin." + +For a moment there was silence. Then she said-- + +"Was he very angry?" + +"I am sorry to say he was. He evidently dislikes me very much--a feeling +which I fear is mutual." + +"I wonder you had the courage to ask him," she said at length. + +"I would dare anything for your sake," he replied, with averted eyes. "I +would defy him if you were willing. And, indeed, I cannot see why he +should be the arbiter of your fate and mine." + +"You must not forget that he is my father," she said quietly and +deliberately. + +"But you defied him in the case of Lord Probus." + +"That was different. To have married Lord Probus would have been a sin. +No, no. The cases are not parallel." + +"Then you are still of the same mind?" he questioned. + +"It would not be right," she said, after a long pause, "knowing father +as I do, and knowing how keenly he feels all this." + +"Then it is right to spoil my life, to fling all its future in shadow?" + +"You will forget me," she said, with averted eyes. + +"Perhaps so," he answered a little bitterly; "time is a great healer, +they say," and he raised his hat again and turned away. + +But her hand was laid on his arm in a moment. + +"Now you are angry with me," she said, her eyes filling. "But don't you +see it is as hard for me as for you? Oh, it is harder, for you are so +much stronger than I." + +"If we are to forget each other," he replied quietly and without looking +at her, "we had better begin at once." + +"But surely we may be friends?" she questioned. + +"It is not a question of friendship," he answered, "but of forgetting, +or of trying to forget." + +"But I don't want to forget," she said impulsively. "I could not if I +tried. A woman never forgets. I want to remember you, to think of your +courage, your--your----" + +"Folly," he interrupted. + +She looked at him with a startled expression in her eyes. + +"Is it folly to love?" she questioned. + +"Yes, out of your own station. If I had loved anyone else but you----" + +"No, no! Don't say that," she interrupted. "God knows best. We are +strengthened and made better by the painful discipline of life." + +He took her outstretched hand and held it for a moment, then raised it +to his lips. So they parted. He could not feel angry or resentful. She +was so sweet, so gentle, so womanly, that she compelled his reverence. +It was better to have loved her and lost, than to have won any other +woman on earth. + +On the following afternoon, on reaching home, Ruth met him at the door +with a puzzled expression in her eyes. + +"Who do you think is in the parlour?" she questioned, with a touch of +excitement in her voice. + +"William Menire," he ventured, with a laugh. + +"Then you are mistaken. William has gone to St. Hilary. But what do you +say to the squire?" + +"Sir John Hamblyn?" + +She nodded. + +"He's been waiting the best part of an hour." + +For a moment he hesitated, then he strode past her into the house. + +Sir John rose and bowed stiffly. Ralph closed the door behind him and +waited for the squire to speak. + +"I went down to the boat, hoping to catch you before you left Boulogne," +Sir John began. + +"I returned by way of Calais," was the quick reply. + +"Ah, that explains. I was curious to have a little further talk with +you. What you said about the lode excited me a great deal." + +"I have little doubt of it." + +"I own I have no claim upon you," Sir John went on, without heeding the +interruption. "Still, keeping the knowledge to yourself can do you no +good." + +"That is quite true." + +"While to me it would be everything." + +"It might be a bad thing. In the past, excuse me for saying it, you have +used your wealth and your influence neither wisely nor well. In fact, +you have prostituted both to selfish and unworthy ends." + +"I have been foolish, I own, and I have had to pay dearly for it. You +think I pressed your father hard, but I was hard pressed myself. If I +hadn't allowed myself to drift into the hands of those villainous Jews I +should have been a better man." + +"But are you not in their hands still?" + +"Well, yes, up to a certain point I am. At present they are practically +running the estates." + +"And when will you be free?" + +"Well, I hardly know. You see they keep piling up interest in such a way +that it is difficult to discover where I am. But a rich lode would +enable me to clear off everything." + +"I am not sure of that. If during your lifetime they have got a hold on +the estates, how do you know they would not appropriate the lode with +the rest?" + +Sir John looked blank, and for several moments was silent. + +"Do you know," he said at length, "that I have already paid three times +more in interest than the total amount I borrowed?" + +"I can quite believe that," was the answer. "Would you mind telling me +the amount you did borrow?" + +Sir John named the sum. + +Ralph regarded him in silence for several moments. + +"It is a large sum," he said at length, "a very large sum. And yet, if I +am not greatly mistaken, it is but a trifle in comparison with the value +of the lode I have referred to." + +"You do not mean that?" the squire said eagerly. + +"But it would be folly to make its existence known until you have got +out of the hands of those money-lenders," Ralph went on. + +"They would grab it all, you think?" + +"I fear so. If all one hears about their cunning is true, there is +scarcely any hope for a man who once gets into their clutches. The law +seems powerless. You had better have made yourself a bankrupt right +off." + +"I don't know; the disgrace is so great." + +Ralph curled his lip scornfully. + +"It seems to me you strain at a gnat and swallow a camel," he said. + +"I have been hard pressed," the squire answered dolefully. + +For several seconds neither of them spoke again. Ralph was evidently +fighting a hard battle with himself. It is not easy to be magnanimous +when it is more than probable your magnanimity will be abused. Why +should he be kind to this man? He had received nothing but cruelty at +his hands. Should he turn his cheek to the smiter? Should he restrain +himself when he had the chance of paying off old scores? Was it not +human, after all, to say an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth? Was +not revenge sweet? + +They were facing each other in the very house from which he and his +mother and Ruth had been evicted, the house in which his father had died +of a broken heart. Did not every stone in it cry out for vengeance? This +man had shown them no mercy. In the hour of their greatest need he had +been more cruel than any fabled Shylock. He had insisted upon his pound +of flesh, though it meant beggary to them all. He had pursued them with +a vindictiveness that was almost without a parallel. And now that the +tables had been turned, and the tyrant, bereft of his power, was +pleading for mercy, was he to kiss the hand that before had struck him? + +Moreover, what guarantee was there that if this man were restored to his +old position he would be any better than he was before? Was not his +heart what it had always been? Was he not a tyrant by nature? + +Sir John watched the look of perplexity gather and deepen on Ralph's +face, and guessed the struggle that was going on within him. He felt +very humble, and more penitent than Ralph knew. + +The younger man lifted his head at length, and his brow cleared. + +"I have been strongly tempted," he said slowly, "to mete out to you what +you have measured to us." + +"I have no claim to be considered," Sir John said humbly. + +"You have thwarted me, or tried to thwart me, at every stage of my +life," Ralph went on. + +"I know I have been no friend to you," was the feeble reply. + +"And if I help you back to power, I have no guarantee that you will not +use that power to thwart me again." + +The squire let his eyes fall to the ground, but did not reply. + +"However, to play the part of the dog in the manger," Ralph went on, "is +not a very manly thing to do, so I have decided to tell you all I know." + +"You will reveal the lode to me?" he questioned eagerly. + +"Yes. It will be good for the neighbourhood and the county in any case." + +The squire sat down suddenly, and furtively wiped his eyes. + +"But the money-lenders will have to be squared first. Will you allow me +to tackle them for you? I should enjoy the bull-baiting." + +"You mean----" + +"I mean that in any case they must not be allowed to get the lode into +their hands." + +"I don't know how it is to be avoided." + +"Will you leave the matter to me and William Menire?" + +"You mean you will help me?" + +"We shall be helping the neighbourhood." + +Sir John struggled hard to keep the tears back, but failed. + +"And you impose no condition?" he sobbed at length. + +"No, I impose no condition. If the thing is to be done, let it be done +freely." + +"You unman me altogether," the squire said, with brimming eyes. "I did +not expect, I really didn't. I have no claim, and I've been beastly hard +on you. I know I have, and I'm sorry, real sorry, mind you; and +if--if----" + +"We'll let the 'ifs' go for the present, if you don't mind," Ralph said, +with a dry laugh. "There are a good many present difficulties to be met. +I should like to see your agreement with the money-lenders." + +"You shall see everything. If you can only get me out of this hole you +will make me the most thankful man alive!" + +Ralph smiled dubiously. + +"When can I see the papers?" he asked. + +"To-day if you like. They are at the Manor." + +"Very good. I will walk across after tea, or will you fetch them here?" + +"If it would not be troubling you to walk so far----" + +"I will come with pleasure." + +The squire felt very chastened and humble as he made his way slowly back +to the Manor, through Treliskey Plantation. Magnanimity is rarely lost +on anyone, kindness will melt the hardest heart. The squire's pride was +being slowly undermined, his arrogance seemed almost a contemptible +thing. + +By contrast with Ralph's nobler character he began to see how mean and +poor was his own. He had prided himself so much on his name and +pedigree, and yet he was only beginning to see how unworthy he had +proved of both. What, after all, was the mere accident of birth in +comparison with moral greatness? Measured by any right standard, Ralph +Penlogan was an infinitely better man than he. He had not only +intellect, but heart. He possessed that true nobility which enabled a +man to forgive his enemy. He was turning in a very literal sense his +cheek to the smiter. + +Sir John entered the house with a curious feeling of diffidence. His +home, and yet not his. The dowager made him welcome, and placed the +library and a bedroom above at his disposal for as long as he might care +to stay. + +Dorothy was delighted to have her father with her again, and yet she was +strangely puzzled as to the object of his visit. She was puzzled still +more when a little later Ralph Penlogan was shown into the room where +she and her father sat. + +She rose to her feet in a moment, while a hot blush swept over her neck +and face. For a second or two she stood irresolute, and glanced hastily +from one to the other. What was the meaning of it all? Her father, +instead of glaring angrily at his visitor, received him with the +greatest cordiality and even deference, while Ralph advanced with no +sign of fear or hesitation. + +Neither of them appeared for the moment to be conscious of her presence. +Ralph did not even look towards her. + +Then her father said in a low voice-- + +"You can leave us for a little while, Dorothy." + +She hurried out of the room with flaming cheeks and fast-beating heart. +What could her father want with Ralph Penlogan? What was the mystery +underlying his hurried visit? Could it have any reference to herself? +Had her father relented? Had he at last come to see that character was +more than social position--that a man was great not by virtue of birth, +but by virtue of achievement? + +For the best part of an hour she sat in her own room waiting and +listening. Then the dowager summoned her to read an article to her out +of the _Spectator_. + +It grew dark at last, and Dorothy sought her own room once more, but she +was so restless she could not sit still. The very air seemed heavy with +fate. Her father and Ralph were still closeted in the library. What +could they have to say to each other that kept them so long? + +When the lamps were lighted she stole out of her room and waited for a +few moments on the landing. Then she ran lightly down the stairs into +the hall. The library door was still closed, but a moment later it was +pulled slightly open. She drew back into a recess and pulled a curtain +in front of her, though why she did so she hardly knew. + +She could hear distinctly a murmur of voices, then came a merry peal of +laughter. She had not heard her father laugh so merrily for years. + +Then the two men walked out into the hall side by side, and began to +converse in subdued tones. She could see them very distinctly. How +handsome Ralph looked in the light of the lamp. + +The squire went with his visitor to the front door, and opened it. She +caught Ralph's parting words, "I will see to the matter without delay. +Good-night!" + +When the squire returned from the door he saw Dorothy standing under the +lamp with a look of inquiry in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +SIR JOHN ATONES + + +Dorothy did not see Ralph again for nearly a month, and the hope that +had animated her for a brief period threatened to go out in darkness. +Her father, much to her surprise, remained at the Manor, he and the +dowager having come to terms that appeared to be mutually satisfactory. +But for what purpose he had returned to St. Goram, and why he remained, +she did not know, and more puzzling still was why he had held that long +and friendly interview with Ralph Penlogan. + +More than once she had tried to get at the truth. But her father was +completely on his guard against every chance question. He had never been +in the habit of taking Dorothy into his confidence in business matters. +He was of opinion that the less girls knew about matters outside the +domestic realm the better. Moreover, until he was safely out of the +clutches of the money-lenders, it would not be safe to take anyone into +his confidence. So to Dorothy, at any rate, he remained a mystery from +day to day, and the longer he remained, the deeper the mystery seemed to +grow. + +There was, however, one compensation. He was more cheerful and more +affectionate than he had ever been since her refusal to marry Lord +Probus. What that might mean she was unable to guess. There appeared to +be no particular reason for his cheerfulness. For the moment he was +living on charity, for of course he could not dream of paying the +dowager for his board and lodgings. He did not appear to be engaged on +any gambling adventure or business enterprise. No one came to see him. +He went nowhere, except for an occasional long walk after dark, and he +scarcely ever received a letter. + +One evening he was absent several hours, and did not return till after +midnight. Dorothy waited up for him, and had begun to be greatly +concerned at his non-arrival. She was standing at the open door +listening when she caught the sound of his footsteps, and she ran a +little way down the drive to meet him. + +"Oh, father, wherever have you been?" she cried out anxiously. + +"Why, little girl, why are you not in bed?" he answered, with a laugh. + +"Because I waited up for you, and I expected you an hour ago. I have +been terribly anxious." + +"Nobody is likely to run away with me," he said, bending over and +kissing her. + +"But it is so late for you to be out alone. If there was anyone you have +been in the habit of visiting, I should not have worried, but I feared +you had been taken ill, or had met with an accident." + +"I did not know you cared for your old father so much," he said, with a +note of tenderness in his voice that was new to her. + +"But I do care," she answered impulsively, "and care lots and lots more +than I can tell you." + +He kissed her again, and then taking her arm, he led her into the house. +Bolting the front door, he followed her into the library. + +She was standing against the fireplace when he entered, and she noticed +that his eyes were unusually bright. + +"I have been to Hillside Farm," he said, and a broad smile spread itself +over his face. + +"To Hillside Farm?" she questioned. + +"Young Penlogan has had some business affairs of mine in hand, and +to-night we have settled it." + +She stared at him with a look of wonder in her eyes, but did not reply. + +"It's been a ticklish task, and, of course, I have said nothing about +it. But I've been in high hopes ever since I came back. Penlogan is +really a remarkable fellow." + +"Yes?" she questioned, wondering more than ever. + +"It's a curious turn of the tables," he went on; "but he's behaved +splendidly, and there's no denying it. He might have heaped coals of +fire on my head at every point. He might--but--well, after one straight +talk--not another word. He's behaved like a gentleman--perhaps I ought +to say like a Christian. No conditions! Not a condition. No. Having made +up his mind to do the straight thing, he's carried it through. It's been +coals of fire, all the same. I've never felt so humbled in my life +before. I could wish--but there, it's too late to wish now. He's spared +me all he could. I'm bound to say that for him, and he's carried it +through----" + +"Carried what through, father?" + +He started, and smiled, for his thoughts had evidently gone wandering to +some distant place. + +"I'm afraid it's too long a story to tell you to-night." + +"No, no, father. I'm quite wide awake. And, indeed, I shall not sleep +for the night, unless you tell me." + +"I'm wide awake myself," he said, with a laugh. "By Jove! I feel as if I +could dance. You can't imagine what a relief it is to me. Life will be +worth living again." + +"But what is it all about, father?" + +"Oh, that clever dog, Penlogan, discovered a rich vein of ore in my +ground, and he's given me all the benefit of the discovery. I've been +hard up for a long time, as you know; been in the hands of sharks, in +fact. I feel ashamed to tell you this, though I expect you have guessed. +Well, thanks to Penlogan, I've shaken them off, got quite free of them. +Now I'm free to go ahead." + +"And has Ralph Penlogan done all this for nothing?" + +"Absolutely. He wanted you when he came to see me at Boulogne, but I +told him I'd see you buried first. Good heavens! I could have wrung his +neck." + +She smiled pathetically, but made no answer. + +"He's a greater man than I knew," Sir John went on, after a pause. "He +was strongly tempted to be even with me--he told me so--but the finer +side of him conquered. Good heavens! if only Geoffrey were such a man, +how proud I should be." + +"Geoffrey has been trained in a different school." + +"There may be something in that. Some natures expand under hard knocks, +are toughened by battle and strife, greatened by suffering, and +sweetened by sorrow." + +She looked up into his face with a wondering smile. + +"Ah, my Dorothy," he said, with a world of tenderness in his tones, "I +have learned a great deal during the last few weeks. In the past I've +been a fool, and worse. I've measured people by their social position. +I've set value on filigree and embroidery. I've been proud of pedigree +and name, and I've tried to put my heel upon people who were my +superiors in every way. Good heavens! what vain fools we are in the +main. We value the pinchbeck setting and kick the diamond into the +gutter." + +"Then you have finished with Mr. Penlogan now?" she questioned, after a +long pause. + +"Finished with him? Why so? I hope not, anyhow." + +"But you have got all you want out of him." + +"I never said so. No, no. We shall have to form a company to work the +new lode, and he will be invaluable." + +"And he will get nothing?" + +"I don't know that he wants anything. He has plenty as it is." + +She made no reply, and for a moment or two they looked at each other in +silence. Then Sir John said, with a chuckle-- + +"A penny for your thoughts, Dorothy!" + +"A penny for yours, father." + +"Do you really care very much for the fellow?" + +"For the fellow?" + +"I mean for Penlogan, of course. Mind you, I'm not surprised if you do. +He's the kind of fellow any girl might fall in love with, and, to be +quite candid, I shouldn't object to him for a son-in-law." + +"Oh, father!" and she ran to him and threw her arms about his neck. + +"Then you do care for him, little girl?" + +But the only answer he got was a hug and a kiss. + +"Oh, very good," he went on. "I'll let him know to-morrow morning that +he may come along here and see you if he likes. I don't expect he will +lose very much time. What! crying, little girl? Come, come, you mustn't +cry. Crying spoils the eyes. Besides, it is time we were both in bed." + +She kissed him more than once, and then ran hurriedly out of the room. + +On the following afternoon she went for a walk through the plantation +alone. + +"He will come this way," she said to herself. "He will be sure to come +this way. He knows it is my favourite walk." + +She walked slowly, but with every sense alert. She knew that her father +had been to see Ralph, and, of course, he would be impatient to see her. +If he were half as impatient as she was he would be on his way now. + +She espied him at length a long way down the road, and she drew back a +little in the shadow of the trees and waited. Her heart was beating very +fast, and happy tears kept welling up into her eyes. + +She was looking away from him when at length he came upon her. + +"Dorothy!" he said, in a voice that thrilled her like a strain of music. + +"Yes, Ralph," and she turned her perfect face full upon him. + +"Your father said I might come." + +"Yes, I know," and she placed both her hands in his. + +"I have waited long for this day," he said. + +"We are the happier for the waiting." + +"You are satisfied?" + +"I am very happy, Ralph." + +He gathered her to himself slowly and tenderly, and kissed her. There +was no need for many words just then. Silence was more eloquent than +speech. + +That evening the dowager came to the conclusion that she would have to +look out for a new companion and secretary. + + + + +Mr. Silas K. Hocking's + +THE FLAMING SWORD. + + _SOME PRESS OPINIONS_ + + "This is told in Mr. Hocking's usual bright and sprightly + manner. When over a million copies of a man's books have been + sold, all his readers want to know is if the book under review + presents the characteristics of the author, and is worthy of + his reputation; both of which questions can be answered in the + affirmative."--_Queen._ + + "The novel is remarkable, because of its intensely human + interest, of the intricacy of the plot, and of the freshness + and vigour with which it is developed. The tale is wound up in + the happiest possible manner. Mr. Hocking has produced a + finished piece of literary workmanship--a novel that will be + widely read and enjoyed."--_Scotsman._ + + "In 'The Flaming Sword' he is at his best, and the book will + gratify his multitudinous admirers."--_Sheffield Daily + Telegraph._ + + "An admirable story--supremely interesting. The whole story is + brimful of surprises and complications, woven together with + great ingenuity. The plot is wonderfully good, and grips the + reader from start to finish."--_Aberdeen Free Press._ + + "It will be strange indeed if 'The Flaming Sword' does not + become one of the most popular products of Mr. Silas Hocking's + pen."--_Christian Commonwealth._ + + "It immediately lays hold of one, and the grip is maintained + throughout."--_Dundee Advertiser._ + + "An exciting and intensely interesting story."--_Canadian + Bookseller._ + + "A novel which is sure to have multitudes of readers and to be + enthusiastically received."--_Free Methodist._ + + "A volume that will keep up the reputation of the author, since + it is written in his best vein."--_Irish Times._ + + "Mr. S. K. Hocking has a big circle of admirers, which is + likely to be considerably widened by his latest novel, 'The + Flaming Sword.' The story grips one from the + opening."--_Lloyd's News._ + + +PIONEERS. + + _SOME PRESS OPINIONS_ + + "Mr. Hocking has written many admirable stories, but none, one + may venture to say, so effective as this. He has presented his + characters with convincing fidelity to human nature.... The + reader will follow their careers with interest, and in especial + that of the heroine, who is a pronounced and most attractive + individuality. In a word, the novel is a notable + success."--_Scotsman._ + + "Mr. Hocking has seldom drawn two more notable and more lovable + characters. The novel teems with stirring adventure and has the + prettiest love story, with the happiest of endings."--_Evening + News._ + + "Is a story of sustained power--power controlled by a practised + hand which quickly grips the interest of the reader and holds + it undiminished to the end."--_Birmingham Post._ + + "Conceived and executed in the author's most vigorous style, we + are carried breathlessly forward from the first page to the + last; almost every chapter contains some hair-breadth 'scape. + It is all very exciting and picturesque."--_Westminster + Gazette._ + + "It is a skilful and well-knit story, full of exciting + episodes. It arouses human sympathy, and sustains a good level + of interest. It is probably one of the best of Mr. Silas + Hocking's recent books."--_Sheffield Independent._ + + "Mr. Hocking's latest novel is intensely interesting and + exciting. The scene is laid in Russia, and the plot embraces + the struggles and adventures of two soldiers who have deserted + from the Russian army. They are arrested and taken to Siberia, + and their privations and struggles for freedom are depicted + with a master hand. The character of the heroine is one which + will draw the sympathy of all, and the story one which should + appeal to a large circle of readers."--_Canadian Bookseller._ + + "There is a vivid realism in the story. The exciting adventures + of the heroine, etc., form a chapter of incidents which keep + the reader chained to the book till the last page is turned. + The story is one of the best, if not the best that Mr. Hocking + has written."--_Daily News._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Squire's Daughter, by Silas K(itto) Hocking + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER *** + +***** This file should be named 36384-8.txt or 36384-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/3/8/36384/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://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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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 Squire's Daughter + +Author: Silas K(itto) Hocking + +Release Date: June 11, 2011 [EBook #36384] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>THE <span class="smcap">Squire's Daughter</span></h1> + +<h2>BY SILAS K. HOCKING</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "PIONEERS" "THE FLAMING SWORD" "THE WIZARD'S LIGHT" "THE +SCARLET CLUE" ETC.</h3> + + +<h3><i>WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS</i><br /> +BY ARTHUR TWIDLE</h3> + +<h3>Fourth Edition</h3> + +<h3>LONDON<br /> +FREDERICK WARNE & CO.<br /> +AND NEW YORK<br /> +1906</h3> + +<h3>(<i>All Rights Reserved</i>)</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"<span class="smcap">If you can only bring yourself to say Yes, I will do my +best to make you the happiest woman in the world.</span>"</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. AN IMPERIOUS MAIDEN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. APPREHENSIONS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. A NEW SENSATION</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. A BITTER INTERVIEW</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. THE CHANCES OF LIFE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. WAITING FOR THE BLOW TO FALL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. DAVID SPEAKS HIS MIND</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. CONFLICTING EMOTIONS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. PREPARING TO GO</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. RALPH SPEAKS HIS MIND</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. UNCONSCIOUS SPEECH</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. DOROTHY SPEAKS HER MIND</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. GATHERING CLOUDS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. THE STORM BURSTS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. SIR JOHN GETS ANGRY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. THE BIG HOUSE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. DEVELOPMENTS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. A CONFESSION</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. A SILENT WELCOME</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. WILLIAM MENIRE'S RED-LETTER DAY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. A GOOD NAME</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. A FRESH START</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE ROAD TO FORTUNE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. LAW AND LIFE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. IN LONDON TOWN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. TRUTH WILL OUT</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. HOME AGAIN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. A TRYING POSITION</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. A QUESTION OF MOTIVES</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. SELF AND ANOTHER</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. A PARTNERSHIP</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. FOOD FOR REFLECTION</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. A PROPOSAL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. A FRESH PAGE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. FAILURE OR FORTUNE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PENALTY OF PROSPERITY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. LIGHT AND SHADOW</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. LOVE AND LIFE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. PERPLEXING QUESTIONS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. LOVE OR FAREWELL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. THE TABLES TURNED</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. COALS OF FIRE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. SIR JOHN ATONES</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#Mr_Silas_K_Hockings">Other Works by Silas K. Hocking</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>List of Illustrations</h2> + + +<p><a href="#illus1">"<span class="smcap">If you can only bring yourself to say Yes, I will do my best to make +you the happiest woman in the world.</span>"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">"<span class="smcap">Sir John raised his hunting-crop, and struck at Ralph with all his +might.</span>"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">"<span class="smcap">Ruth threw her arms about her mother's neck and burst into a passion of +tears.</span>"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus4">"<span class="smcap">William, breathless and excited, burst in upon him.</span>"</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>AN IMPERIOUS MAIDEN</h3> + + +<p>The voice was soft and musical, but the tone was imperative.</p> + +<p>"I say, young man, open that gate."</p> + +<p>The young man addressed turned slowly from the stile on which he had +been leaning, and regarded the speaker attentively. She was seated on a +high-stepping horse with that easy grace born of long familiarity with +the saddle, and yet she seemed a mere girl, with soft round cheeks and +laughing blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Come, wake up," she said, in tones more imperious than before, "and +open the gate at once."</p> + +<p>He resented the tone, though he was charmed with the picture, and +instead of going toward the gate to do her bidding he turned and began +to climb slowly over the stile.</p> + +<p>She trotted her horse up to him in a moment, her eyes flashing, her +cheeks aflame. She had been so used to command and to prompt obedience +that this insubordination on the part of a country yokel seemed nothing +less than an insult.</p> + +<p>"You dare disobey me?" she said, her voice thrilling with anger.</p> + +<p>"Of course I dare," he answered, without turning his head. "I am not +your servant."</p> + +<p>The reply seemed to strike her dumb for a moment, and she reined back +her horse several paces.</p> + +<p>He turned again to look at her, then deliberately seated himself on one +of the posts of the stile.</p> + +<p>There was no denying that she made a pretty picture. With one foot on +the top rung of the stile he was almost on a level with her, and he was +near enough to see her bosom heave and the colour come and go upon her +rounded cheeks.</p> + +<p>His heart began to beat uncomfortably fast. He feared that he had played +a churlish part. She looked so regal, and yet so sweet, that it seemed +almost as if Nature had given her the right to command. And who was he +that he should resent her imperious manner and refuse to do her bidding?</p> + +<p>He had gone too far, however, to retreat. Moreover, his dignity had been +touched. She had flung her command at him as though he were a serf. Had +she asked him to open the gate, he would have done so gladly. It was the +imperious tone that he resented.</p> + +<p>"I did not expect such rudeness and incivility here of all places," she +said at length in milder tones.</p> + +<p>His cheeks flamed at that, and an angry feeling stole into his heart. +Judged by ordinary standards, he had no doubt been rude, and her words +stung him all the more on that account. He would have played a more +dignified part if he had pocketed the affront and opened the gate; but +he was in no mood to go back on what he had done.</p> + +<p>"If I have been rude and uncivil, you are to blame as much as I—and +more," he retorted angrily.</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" she said, in a tone of lofty disdain, and an amused smile +played round the corners of her mouth. She was interested in the young +man in spite of his incivility. Now that she had an opportunity of +looking more closely at him, she could not deny that he had no common +face, while his speech was quite correct, and not lacking in dignity.</p> + +<p>"I hope I am not so churlish as not to be willing to do a kindness to +anybody," he went on rapidly, "but I resent being treated as dirt by +such as you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? I was not aware——" she began, but he interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"If you had asked me to open the gate I would have done so gladly, and +been proud to do it," he went on; "but because I belong to what you are +pleased to call the lower orders, you cannot ask; you command, and you +expect to be obeyed."</p> + +<p>"Of course I expect to be obeyed," she said, arching her eyebrows and +smiling brightly, "and I am surprised that you——"</p> + +<p>"No doubt you are," he interrupted angrily. "But if we are lacking in +good manners, so are you," and he turned and leaped off the stile into +the field.</p> + +<p>"Come back, you foolish young man."</p> + +<p>But if he heard, he did not heed; with his eyes fixed on a distant +farmhouse, he stalked steadily on, never turning his head either to the +right or the left.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two she looked after him, an amused smile dimpling her +cheeks; then she turned her attention to the gate.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what I am to do now?" she mused. "I cannot unfasten it, and if +I get off, I shall never be able to mount again; on the other hand, I +hate going back through the village the way I came. I wonder if Jess +will take it?" and she rode the mare up to the gate and let her smell at +the rungs.</p> + +<p>It was an ordinary five-barred gate, and the ground was soft and +springy. The road was scarcely more than a track across a heathery +common. Beyond the gate the road was strictly private, and led through a +wide sweep of plantation, and terminated at length, after a circuit of a +mile or two, somewhere near Hamblyn Manor.</p> + +<p>Jess seemed to understand what was passing through her mistress's mind, +and shook her head emphatically.</p> + +<p>"You can do it, Jess," she said, wheeling the mare about, and trotting +back a considerable distance. "I know you can," and she struck her +across the flank with her riding crop.</p> + +<p>Jess pricked up her ears and began to gallop toward the gate; but she +halted suddenly when within a few feet of it, almost dislodging her +rider.</p> + +<p>The young lady, however, was not to be defeated. A second time she rode +back, and then faced the gate once more.</p> + +<p>Jess pricked up her ears, and shook her head as if demanding a loose +rein, and then sprang forward with the swiftness of a panther. But she +took the gate a moment too soon; there was a sharp crash of splintered +wood, a half-smothered cry of pain, and horse and rider were rolling on +the turf beyond.</p> + +<p>Ralph Penlogan caught his breath and turned his head suddenly. The sound +of breaking wood fell distinctly on his ear, and called him back from +his not over-pleasant musings. He was angry with himself, angry with the +cause of his anger. He had stood up for what he believed to be his +rights, had asserted his opinions with courage and pertinacity; and yet, +for some reason, he was anything but satisfied. The victory he had +won—if it was a victory at all—was a barren one. He was afraid that he +had asserted himself at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and before +the wrong person.</p> + +<p>The girl to whom he had spoken, and whose command he had defied, was not +responsible for the social order against which he chafed, and which +pressed so hardly on the class to which he belonged. She was where +Providence had placed her just as much as he was, and the tone of +command she had assumed was perhaps more a matter of habit than any +assumption of superiority.</p> + +<p>So within three minutes of leaving the stile he found himself excusing +the fair creature to whom he had spoken so roughly. That she had a sweet +and winning face there was no denying, while the way she sat her horse +seemed to him the embodiment of grace.</p> + +<p>Who she was he had not the remotest idea. To the best of his +recollection he had never seen her before. That she belonged to what was +locally termed the gentry there could be no doubt—a visitor most likely +at one or other of the big houses in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>Once the thought flashed across his mind that she might be the daughter +of Sir John Hamblyn, but he dismissed it at once. In the first place, +Sir John's daughter was old enough to be married—in fact, the wedding +day had already been fixed—while this young lady was a mere girl. She +did not look more than seventeen if she looked a day. And in the second +place, it was inconceivable that such a mean, grasping, tyrannical +curmudgeon as Sir John could be the father of so fair a child.</p> + +<p>He had seen Dorothy Hamblyn when she was a little girl in short frocks, +and his recollection of her was that she was a disagreeable child. If he +remembered aright, she was about his own age—a trifle younger.</p> + +<p>"Why, I have turned twenty," he mused. "I am a man. She's only a girl."</p> + +<p>So he dismissed the idea that she was Sir John's daughter who returned +from school only about six months ago, and who was going to marry Lord +Probus forthwith.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he was recalled from his musings by the crash of the breaking +gate. Was that a cry also he heard? He was not quite sure. A dozen vague +fears shot through his mind in a moment. For a second only he hesitated, +then he turned swiftly on his heel and ran back the way he had come.</p> + +<p>The field was a wide one, wider than he had ever realised before. He was +out of breath by the time he reached the stile, while his fears had +increased with every step he took.</p> + +<p>He leaped over the stile at a bound, and then stood still. Before him +was the broken gate, and beyond it——</p> + +<p>For a moment a mist swam before his eyes, and the ground seemed to be +slipping away from beneath his feet. Vague questions respecting his +responsibility crowded in upon his brain; the harvest of his +churlishness had ripened with incredible swiftness. The word "guilty" +seemed to stare at him from every point of the compass.</p> + +<p>With a strong effort he pulled himself together, and advanced toward the +prostrate figure. The horse stood a few paces away, trembling and +bleeding from the knees.</p> + +<p>He was almost afraid to look at the girl's face, and when he did so he +gave a loud groan. There was no movement, nor any sign of life. The eyes +were closed, the cheeks ghastly pale, while from underneath the soft +brown hair there ran a little stream of blood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>APPREHENSIONS</h3> + + +<p>Sir John Hamblyn was walking up and down in front of his house, fuming, +as usual, and with a look upon his face that betokened acute anxiety. +Why he should be so anxious he hardly knew. There seemed to be no +special reason for it. Everything appeared to be moving along +satisfactorily, and unless the absolutely unexpected happened, there was +no occasion for a moment's worry.</p> + +<p>But it was just the off-chance of something happening that irritated +him. The old saying, "There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip," kept +flitting across his brain with annoying frequency. If he could only get +another month over without accident of any kind he would have peace; at +least, so he believed.</p> + +<p>Lord Probus was not the man to go back on his word, and Lord +Probus had promised to stand by him, provided he became his—Sir +John's—son-in-law.</p> + +<p>It seemed a little ridiculous, for Lord Probus was the older man of the +two, and to call a man his son-in-law who was older than himself was not +quite in harmony with the usual order of things. But then, what did it +matter? There were exceptions to every rule, and such exceptions were of +constant occurrence.</p> + +<p>When once the marriage knot was tied, a host of worries that had +harassed him of late would come to an end. He had been foolish, no +doubt. He ought to have lived within his income, and kept out of the way +of the sharks of the Turf and the Stock Exchange. He had a handsome +rent-roll, quite sufficient for his legitimate wants; and if things +improved, he might be able to raise rents all round. Besides, if he had +luck, some of the leases might fall in, which would further increase his +income. But the off-chance of these things was too remote to meet his +present needs. He wanted immediate help, and Lord Probus was his only +hope.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for him, Dorothy was not old enough to see the tragedy of +such an alliance. She saw only the social side—the gilt and glitter and +tinsel. The appeal had been made to her vanity and to her love of pretty +and costly things. To be the mistress of Rostrevor Castle, to bear a +title, to have a London house, to have any number of horses and +carriages, to go to State functions, to be a society dame before she was +twenty—all these things appealed to her girlish pride and vanity, and +she accepted the offer of Lord Probus with alacrity, and with scarcely a +moment's serious thought.</p> + +<p>No time was lost in hurrying forward arrangements for the wedding. The +sooner the contract was made secure the better. Any unnecessary delay +might give her an excuse for changing her mind. Sir John felt that he +would not breathe freely again until the wedding had taken place.</p> + +<p>Now and then, when he looked at his bright-eyed, happy, imperious girl, +his heart smote him. She had turned eighteen, but she was wonderfully +girlish for her years, not only in appearance but in manner, and in her +outlook upon life. She knew nothing as yet of the ways of the world, +nothing of its treachery and selfishness. She had only just escaped from +the seclusion of school and the drudgery of the classroom. She felt free +as a bird, and the outlook was just delightful. She was going to have +everything that heart could desire, and nothing would be too expensive +for her to buy.</p> + +<p>She was almost as eager for the wedding to take place as was her father; +for directly the wedding was over she was going out to see the +world—France, Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Egypt. They were going to +travel everywhere, and travel in such luxury as even Royalty might envy. +Lord Probus had already given her a foretaste of what he would do for +her by presenting her with a beautiful mare. Jess was the earnest of +better things to come.</p> + +<p>If Dorothy became imperious and slightly dictatorial, it was not to be +wondered at. Nothing was left undone or unsaid that would appeal to her +vanity. She was allowed her own way in everything.</p> + +<p>Sir John was desperately afraid that the illusions might fade before the +wedding day arrived. Financially he was in the tightest corner he had +ever known, and unless he could tap some of Lord Probus's boundless +wealth, he saw before him long years of mean economies and humiliating +struggles with poverty. He saw worse—he saw the sale of his personal +effects to meet the demands of his creditors, he saw the lopping off of +all the luxuries that were as the breath of life to him.</p> + +<p>Hence, though deep down in his heart he loathed the thought of his +little girl marrying a man almost old enough to be her grandfather, he +was sufficiently cornered in other ways to be intensely anxious that the +wedding should take place. Lord Probus was the head of a large brewery +and distilling concern. His immense and yearly increasing revenues came +mainly from beer. How rich he was nobody knew. He hardly knew himself. +He had as good as promised Sir John that if the wedding came off he +would hand over to him sufficient scrip in the great company of which he +was head to qualify him—Sir John—for a directorship. The scrip could +be paid for at Sir John's convenience. The directorship should be +arranged without undue delay. The work of a director was not exacting, +while the pay was exceedingly generous.</p> + +<p>Sir John had already begun to draw the salary in imagination, and to +live up to it. Hence, if anything happened now to prevent the wedding, +it would be like knocking the bottom out of the universe.</p> + +<p>In the chances of human life, it did not seem at all likely that +anything would happen to prevent what he so much desired. It seemed +foolish to worry himself for a single moment. And yet he did worry. +There was always that off-chance. Nobody could ward off accidents or +disease.</p> + +<p>Dorothy had gone out riding alone. She refused to have a groom with her, +and, of course, she had to have her own way; but he was always more or +less fidgety when she was out on these expeditions.</p> + +<p>And yet it was not the fear of accidents that really troubled him. What +he feared most was that she might become disillusioned. As yet she had +not awakened to the meaning and reality of life. She was like a child +asleep, wandering through a fairyland of dreams and illusions. But she +might awake at any moment—awake to the passion of love, awake to the +romance as well as the reality of life.</p> + +<p>The appeal as yet had been to her vanity—to her sense of +self-importance. There had been no appeal to her heart or affections. +She did not know what love was, and if she married Lord Probus it would +be well for her if she never knew. But love might awake when least +expected; her heart might be stirred unconsciously. Some Romeo might +cross her path, and with one glance of his eyes might change all her +life and all her world; and a woman in love was more intractable than a +comet.</p> + +<p>Sir John would not like to be brought into such a position that he would +have to coerce his child. Spendthrift that he was, and worse, with a +deep vein of selfishness that made him intensely unpopular with all his +tenants, he nevertheless loved Dorothy with a very genuine affection. +Geoffrey, his son and heir, had never appealed very strongly to his +heart. Geoffrey was too much like himself, too indolent and selfish. But +Dorothy was like her mother, whose passing was as the snapping of a +rudder chain in a storm.</p> + +<p>The gritting of wheels on the gravel caused Sir John to turn suddenly on +his heel, and descending the steps at the end of the terrace, he walked +a little distance to meet the approaching carriage.</p> + +<p>Lord Probus was not expected, but he was not the less welcome on that +account.</p> + +<p>"The day is so lovely that I thought I would drive across to have a peep +at you all," Lord Probus said, stepping nimbly out of the landau.</p> + +<p>He was a dapper man, rather below the medium height, with a bald head +and iron-grey, military moustache. He was sixty years of age, but looked +ten years younger.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to see you," Sir John said, with effusion, "and I am +sure Dorothy will be when she returns."</p> + +<p>"She is out, is she?"</p> + +<p>"She is off riding as usual. Since you presented her with Jess, she has +spent most of her time in the saddle."</p> + +<p>"She is a good horsewoman?"</p> + +<p>"Excellent. She took to riding as a duck takes to water. She rode with +the hounds when she was ten."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could ride!" Lord Probus said, reflectively. "I believe horse +exercise would do me good; but I began too late in life."</p> + +<p>"Like skating and swimming, one must start young if he is to excel," Sir +John answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; and youth passes all too quickly." And his lordship sighed.</p> + +<p>"Well, as to that, one is as young as one feels, you know." And Sir John +led the way into the house.</p> + +<p>Lord Probus followed with a frown. Sir John had unwittingly touched him +on a sore spot. If he was no younger than he felt, he was unmistakably +getting old. He tried to appear young, and with a fair measure of +success; tried to persuade himself that he was still in his prime; but +every day the fact was brought painfully home to him that he had long +since turned the brow of the hill, and was descending rapidly the other +side. Directly he attempted to do what was child's play to him ten years +before, he discovered that the spring had gone out of his joints and the +nerve from his hand.</p> + +<p>He regretted this not only for his own sake, but in some measure for +Dorothy's. He never looked into her fresh young face without wishing he +was thirty years younger. She seemed very fond of him at present. She +would sit on the arm of his chair and pat his bald head and pull his +moustache, and call him her dear, silly old boy; and when he turned up +his face to be kissed, she would kiss him in the most delightful +fashion.</p> + +<p>But he could not help wondering at times how long it would last. That +she was fond of him just now he was quite sure. She told him in her +bright, ingenuous way that she loved him; but he was not so blind as not +to see that there was no passion in her love. In truth, she did not know +what love was.</p> + +<p>He was none the less anxious, however, on that account, to make her his +wife, but rather the more. The fact that the best part of his life was +gone made him all the more eager to fill up what remained with delight. +He might reckon upon another ten years of life, at least, and to possess +Dorothy for ten years would be worth living for—worth growing old for.</p> + +<p>"You expect Dorothy back soon?" Lord Probus questioned, dropping into an +easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"Any minute, my lord. In fact, I expected her back before this."</p> + +<p>"Jess has been well broken in. I was very careful on that point." And +his lordship looked uneasily out of the window.</p> + +<p>"And then, you know, Dorothy could ride an antelope or a giraffe. She is +just as much at ease in a saddle as you are in that easy-chair."</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I get more and more anxious as the time draws near," his +lordship said absently. "It would be an awful blow to me if anything +should happen now to postpone the wedding."</p> + +<p>"Nothing is likely to happen," Sir John said grimly, but with an +apprehensive look in his eyes. "Dorothy is in the best of health, and so +are you."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I am glad to say I am quite well. And Dorothy, you think, +shows no sign of rueing her bargain?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, she has begun to count the days." And Sir John walked +to the window and raised the blind a little.</p> + +<p>"I shall do my best to make her happy," his lordship said, with a smile. +"And, bachelor as I am, I think I know what girls like."</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt about that," was the laughing answer. "But who comes +here?" And Sir John ran to the door and stepped out on the terrace.</p> + +<p>A boy without coat, and carrying his cap in his hand, ran eagerly up to +him. His face was streaming with perspiration, and his eyes ready to +start out of their sockets.</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir," he said, in gasps, "your little maid has been and +got killed!"</p> + +<p>"My little maid?" Sir John questioned. "Which maid? I did not know any +of the servants were out."</p> + +<p>"No, not any servant, sir; but your little maid, Miss Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"My daughter!" he almost screamed. And he staggered up against the porch +and hugged one of the pillars for support.</p> + +<p>"Thrown from her horse, sir, down agin Treliskey Plantation," the boy +went on. "Molly Udy says she reckons her neck's broke."</p> + +<p>Sir John did not reply, however. He could only stand and stare at the +boy, half wondering whether he was awake or dreaming.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>A NEW SENSATION</h3> + + +<p>Ralph Penlogan's first impulse was to rush off into St. Goram and rouse +the village; but on second thoughts he dropped on his knees by the side +of the prostrate girl, and placed his ear close to her lips. For a +moment or two he remained perfectly still, with an intent and anxious +expression in his eyes; then his face brightened, and something like a +smile played round the corners of his lips.</p> + +<p>"No, she is not dead," he said to himself. And he heaved a great sigh of +relief.</p> + +<p>But he still felt doubtful as to the best course to take. To leave the +unconscious girl lying alone by the roadside seemed to him, for some +reason, a cruel thing to do. She might die, or she might return to +consciousness, and find herself helpless and forsaken, without a human +being or even a human habitation in sight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope she will not die," he said to himself, half aloud, "for if +she does I shall feel like a murderer." And he put his ear to her lips a +second time.</p> + +<p>No, she still breathed, but the rivulet of blood seemed to be growing +larger.</p> + +<p>He raised her gently and let her head rest against his knee while he +examined the wound underneath her auburn hair. He tried his best to +repress a shudder, but failed. Then he pulled a handkerchief from his +pocket, and proceeded to bind it tightly round her head. How pale her +face was, and how beautiful! He had never seen, he thought, so lovely a +face before.</p> + +<p>He wondered who she was and where she lived.</p> + +<p>The horse whinnied a little distance away, and again the question darted +through his mind, What was he to do? If he waited for anyone to pass +that way he might wait a week. The road was strictly private, and there +was a notice up that trespassers would be prosecuted. It had been a +public road once—a public road, indeed, from time immemorial—but Sir +John had put a stop to that. In spite of protests and riots, and +threatened appeals to law, he had won the day, and no man dared walk +through the plantation now without first asking his consent.</p> + +<p>"She can't be very heavy," Ralph thought, as he looked down into her +sweet, colourless face. "I'll have to make the attempt, anyhow. It's +nearly two miles to St. Goram; but perhaps I shall be able to manage +it."</p> + +<p>A moment or two later he had gathered her up in his strong arms, and, +with her bandaged head resting on his shoulder, and her heart beating +feebly against his own, he marched away back over the broken gate in the +direction of St. Goram. Jess gave a feeble whinny, then followed slowly +and dejectedly, with her nose to the ground.</p> + +<p>Half a mile away the ground dipped into a narrow valley, with a clear +stream of water meandering at the bottom.</p> + +<p>Ralph laid down his burden very gently and tenderly close to the stream, +with her head pillowed on a bank of moss. He was at his wits' end, but +he thought it possible that some ice-cold water sprinkled on her face +might revive her.</p> + +<p>Jess stood stock-still a few yards away and watched the operation. Ralph +sprinkled the cold water first on her face, then he got a large leaf, +and made a cup of it, and tried to get her to drink; but the water +trickled down her neck and into her bosom.</p> + +<p>She gave a sigh at length and opened her eyes suddenly. Then she tried +to raise her head, but it fell back again in a moment.</p> + +<p>Ralph filled the leaf again and raised her head.</p> + +<p>"Try to drink this," he said. "I'm sure it will do you good." And she +opened her lips and drank.</p> + +<p>He filled the leaf a third time, and she followed him with her eyes, but +did not attempt to speak.</p> + +<p>"Now, don't you feel better?" he questioned, after she had swallowed the +second draught.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered, in a whisper. "But who are you? And where +am I?"</p> + +<p>"You have had an accident," he said. "Your horse threw you. Don't you +remember?"</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes and knitted her brows as if trying to recall what +had happened.</p> + +<p>"It was close to Treliskey Plantation," he went on, "and the gate was +shut. You told me to open it, and I refused. I was a brute, and I shall +never forgive myself so long as I live."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I remember," she said, opening her eyes slowly, and the +faintest suggestion of a smile played round her ashen lips. "You took +offence because——"</p> + +<p>"I was a brute!" he interjected.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have spoken as I did," she said, in a whisper. "I had no +right to command you. Do—do you think I shall die?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" he cried, aghast. "What makes you ask such a question?"</p> + +<p>"I feel so strange," she answered, in the same faint whisper, "and I +have no strength even to raise my head."</p> + +<p>"But you will get better!" he said eagerly. "You must get better—you +must! For my sake, you must!"</p> + +<p>"Why for your sake?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Because if you die I shall feel like a murderer all the rest of my +life. Oh, believe me, I did not mean to be rude and unkind! I would die +for you this very moment if I could make you better! Oh, believe me!" +And the tears came up and filled his eyes.</p> + +<p>She looked at him wonderingly. His words were so passionate, and rang +with such a deep note of conviction, that she could not doubt his +sincerity.</p> + +<p>"It was all my fault," she whispered, after a long pause; then the light +faded from her eyes again. Ralph rushed to the stream and fetched more +water, but she was quite unconscious when he returned.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two he looked at her, wondering whether her ashen lips +meant the approach of death; then he gathered her up in his arms again +and marched forward in the direction of St. Goram.</p> + +<p>The road seemed interminable, while his burden hung a dead weight in his +arms, and grew heavier every step he took. He was almost ready to drop, +when a feeble sigh sounded close to his ear, followed by a very +perceptible shudder.</p> + +<p>He was afraid to look at her. He had heard that people shuddered when +they died. A moment or two later he was reassured. A soft voice +whispered—</p> + +<p>"Are you taking me home?"</p> + +<p>"I am taking you to St. Goram," he answered "I don't know where your +home is."</p> + +<p>She raised herself suddenly and locked her arms about his neck, and at +the touch of her hands the blood leaped in his veins and his face became +crimson. He no longer felt his burden heavy, no longer thought the way +long. A new chord had been struck somewhere, which sang through every +fibre of his being. A new experience had come to him, unlike anything he +had ever before felt or imagined.</p> + +<p>He raised her a little higher in his arms, and pressed her still closer +to his heart. He was trembling from head to foot; his head swam with a +strange intoxication, his heart throbbed at twice its normal rate. He +had suddenly got into a world of enchantment. Life expanded with a new +meaning and significance.</p> + +<p>It did not matter for the moment who this fair creature was or where she +lived. He had got possession of her; her arms were about his neck, her +head rested on his shoulder, her face was close to his, her breath +fanned his cheek, he could feel the beating of her heart against his +own.</p> + +<p>He marched over the brow of the hill and down the other side in a kind +of ecstasy.</p> + +<p>He waited for her to speak again, but for some reason she kept silent. +He felt her fingers clutch the back of his neck, and every now and then +a feeble sigh escaped her lips.</p> + +<p>"Are you in pain?" he asked at length.</p> + +<p>"I think I can bear it," she answered feebly.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could carry you more gently," he said, "but the ground is very +rough."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you are splendid!" she replied. "I wish I had not been rude to +you."</p> + +<p>He gave a big gulp, as though a lump had risen in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that again, please," he said at length. "I feel bad enough to +drown myself."</p> + +<p>She did not reply again, and for a long distance he walked on in +silence. He was almost ready to drop, and yet he was scarcely conscious +of fatigue. It seemed to him as though the strength of ten men had been +given to him.</p> + +<p>"We shall be in the high road in a few minutes now," he said at length; +but she did not reply. Her hands seemed to be relaxing their hold about +his neck again; her weight had suddenly increased.</p> + +<p>He staggered hurriedly forward to the junction of the roads, and then +sat down suddenly on a bank, still holding his precious charge in his +arms. He shifted her head a little, so that he could look at her face. +She did not attempt to speak, though he saw she was quite conscious.</p> + +<p>"There's some kind of vehicle coming along the road," he said at length, +lifting his head suddenly.</p> + +<p>She did not reply, but her eyes seemed to search his face as though +something perplexed her.</p> + +<p>"Are you easier resting?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes slowly by way of reply; she was too spent to speak.</p> + +<p>"You have not yet told me who you are," he said at length. All thought +of rank and station had passed out of his mind. They were on an equality +while he sat there folding her in his arms.</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes again, and her lips moved, but no sound escaped +them.</p> + +<p>In the distance the rattle of wheels sounded more and more distinct.</p> + +<p>"Help is coming," he whispered. "I'm sure it is."</p> + +<p>Her eyes seemed to smile into his, but no other answer was given.</p> + +<p>He looked eagerly toward the bend of the road, and after a few minutes a +horse and carriage appeared in sight.</p> + +<p>"It's Dr. Barrow's carriage," he said half aloud. "Oh, this is +fortunate!"</p> + +<p>He raised a shout as the carriage drew near. The coachman saw that +something had happened, and pulled up suddenly. The doctor pushed his +head out of the window, then turned the door-handle and stepped out on +to the roadside.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Ralph Penlogan!" he said, rushing forward, "what is the meaning +of this?"</p> + +<p>"She got thrown from her horse up against Treliskey Plantation," he +answered. "Do you know who she is?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I know who she is!" was the quick reply. "Don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"No. I never saw her before. Do you think she will recover?"</p> + +<p>"Has she been unconscious all the time?" the doctor asked, placing his +fingers on her wrist.</p> + +<p>"No; she's come to once or twice. I thought at first she was dead. +There's a big cut on her head, which has bled a good deal."</p> + +<p>"She must be got home instantly," was the reply. "Help me to get her +into the carriage at once!"</p> + +<p>It was an easy task for the two men. Dorothy had relapsed into complete +unconsciousness again. Very carefully they propped her up in a corner of +the brougham, while the doctor took his place by her side.</p> + +<p>Ralph would have liked to ride with them. He rather resented Dr. Barrow +taking his place. He had a notion that nobody could support the +unconscious girl so tenderly as himself.</p> + +<p>There was no help for it, however. He had to get out of the carriage and +leave the two together.</p> + +<p>"Tell William," said the doctor, "to drive round to the surgery before +going on to Hamblyn Manor."</p> + +<p>"To Hamblyn Manor?" Ralph questioned, with a look of perplexity in his +eyes as he stood at the carriage door.</p> + +<p>"Why, where else should I take her?"</p> + +<p>"Is she from up the country?"</p> + +<p>"From up the country—no. Do you mean to say you've lived here all your +life and don't know Miss Hamblyn?"</p> + +<p>"But she is only a girl," Ralph said, looking at the white face that was +leaning against the doctor's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Hamblyn is going to be married!"</p> + +<p>The doctor's face clouded in a moment.</p> + +<p>"I fear this will mean the postponement of the marriage," he said.</p> + +<p>Ralph groaned inwardly and turned away.</p> + +<p>"The doctor says you must drive round to the surgery before going on to +Hamblyn Manor," he said, speaking to the coachman, and then he stood +back and watched the carriage move away.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him like a funeral, with Jess as the mourner, limping +slowly behind. The doctor hoped to avoid attracting attention in St. +Goram. He did not know that Jess was following the carriage all the way.</p> + +<p>It was the sight of the riderless horse that attracted people's +attention. Then, when the carriage pulled up at the doctor's door, +someone bolder than the rest looked in at the window and caught a +glimpse of the unconscious figure.</p> + +<p>The doctor's anger availed him nothing. Other people came and looked, +and the news spread through St. Goram like wildfire, and in the end an +enterprising lad took to his heels and ran all the distance to Hamblyn +Manor that he might take to Sir John the evil tidings.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>A BITTER INTERVIEW</h3> + + +<p>Dr. Barrow remained at the Manor House most of the night. It was clear +from his manner, as well as from the words he let fall, that he regarded +Dorothy's case as serious. Sir John refused to go to bed.</p> + +<p>"I shall not sleep in any case," he said. "And I prefer to remain +downstairs, so that I can hear the latest news."</p> + +<p>Lord Probus remained with him till after midnight, though very few words +passed between them. Now and then they looked at each other in a dumb, +despairing fashion, but neither had the courage to talk about what was +uppermost in their thoughts.</p> + +<p>Just as the daylight was struggling into the room, the doctor came in +silently, and dropped with a little sigh into an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Sir John questioned, looking at him with stony eyes.</p> + +<p>"She is a little easier for the moment," was the quiet, unemotional +answer.</p> + +<p>"You think she will pull through?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so, but I shall be able to speak with more confidence later."</p> + +<p>"The wound in her head is a bad one?"</p> + +<p>The doctor smiled. "If that were all, we would soon have her on her feet +again."</p> + +<p>"But what other injuries has she sustained?"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to say just at present. She evidently fell under the +horse. The wonder is she's alive at all."</p> + +<p>"I suppose nobody knows how it happened?" Sir John questioned after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe nobody saw the accident, though young Ralph Penlogan +was near the spot at the time—and a fortunate thing too, or she might +have remained where she fell till midnight."</p> + +<p>"You have seen the young man?"</p> + +<p>"He had carried her in his arms from Treliskey Plantation to the +junction of the high road."</p> + +<p>"Without assistance?"</p> + +<p>"Without assistance. What else could he do? There was not a soul near +the spot. Since you closed the road through the plantation, it is never +used now, except by the few people to whom you have granted the right of +way."</p> + +<p>"So young Penlogan was in the plantation, was he?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know. He may have been on the common."</p> + +<p>Sir John frowned. "Do you know," he said, after a pause, "that I dislike +that young man exceedingly."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?"</p> + +<p>"He is altogether above his station. I believe he is clever, mind you, +and all that, but what does a working-man's son want to bother himself +with mechanics and chemistry for?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" the doctor asked, with slightly raised eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Why? Because this higher education, as it is called, is bringing the +country to the dogs. Get an educated proletariat, and the reign of the +nobility and gentry is at an end. You see the thin end of the wedge +already. Your Board-school boys and girls are all cursed with notions; +they are too big for their jackets, too high for their station; they +have no respect for squire or parson, and they are too high and mighty +to do honest work."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that has been my experience," the doctor said quietly; and +he rose from his chair and began to pull on his gloves.</p> + +<p>"You are not going?" Sir John questioned anxiously.</p> + +<p>"For an hour or two. I should like, with your permission, to telegraph +to Dr. Roscommon. You know he is regarded now as the most famous surgeon +in the county."</p> + +<p>"But surely, doctor——" Sir John began, with a look of consternation in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I should like to have his opinion," the doctor said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Of course—of course! Get the best advice you can. No expense must be +spared. My child must be saved at all costs."</p> + +<p>"Rest assured we shall do our best," the doctor answered, and quietly +left the room.</p> + +<p>For the best part of another hour Sir John paced restlessly up and down +the room, then he dropped into an easy-chair and fell fast asleep.</p> + +<p>He was aroused at length by a timid knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"Come in!" he answered sleepily, fancying for a moment that he was in +bed, and that his servant had brought him his shaving-water.</p> + +<p>The next moment he was on his feet, with an agitated look in his eyes.</p> + +<p>A servant entered, followed by Ralph Penlogan, who looked as if he had +not slept for the night.</p> + +<p>Instead of waiting to know if Sir John would see him, Ralph had stalked +into the room on the servant's heels. He was too anxious to stand on +ceremony, too eager to unburden his mind. He had never had a moment's +peace since his meeting with Dorothy Hamblyn the previous afternoon. He +felt like a criminal, and would have given all he possessed if he could +have lived over the previous afternoon again.</p> + +<p>Sir John recognised him in a moment, and drew himself up stiffly. He +never felt altogether at ease in the presence of the Penlogans. He knew +that he had "done" the father, driven a most unfair bargain with him, +and it is said a man never forgives a fellow-creature he has wronged.</p> + +<p>"I have come to speak to you about the accident to your daughter," Ralph +said, plunging at once into the subject that filled his mind.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I am glad you have called," Sir John said, walking to the +mantelpiece and leaning his elbow on it.</p> + +<p>"I hope she is better?" Ralph went on. "You think she will recover?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say she is very seriously injured," Sir John answered +slowly; "but, naturally, we hope for the best."</p> + +<p>Ralph dropped his eyes to the floor, and for a moment was silent.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Barrow tells me that you were near the spot at the time of the +accident," Sir John went on; "for that reason I am glad you have +called."</p> + +<p>"There isn't much to tell," Ralph answered, without raising his eyes, +"but I am anxious to tell what there is."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Sir John gasped, glancing across at his visitor suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"After what has happened, you can't blame me more than I blame myself," +Ralph went on; "though, of course, I never imagined for a moment that +she would attempt to leap the gate."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand," Sir John said stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was this way. I was leaning on the stile leading down into +Dingley Bottom, when someone rode up and ordered me to open the gate +leading into Treliskey Plantation. If the lady had asked me to open the +gate I should have done it in a minute."</p> + +<p>"So you refused to do a neighbourly act, did you?"</p> + +<p>"I told her I was not her servant, at which she got very indignant, and +ordered me to do as I was told."</p> + +<p>"And you refused a second time?"</p> + +<p>"I did. In fact, I felt very bitter. People in our class suffer so many +indignities from the rich that we are apt to be soured."</p> + +<p>"Soured, indeed! Your accursed Board-school pride not only makes cads of +you, but criminals!" And Sir John's eyes blazed with passion.</p> + +<p>"I am not going to defend myself any further," Ralph said, raising his +eyes and looking him full in the face. "I am sorry now that I did not +open the gate—awfully sorry. I would give anything if I could live over +yesterday afternoon again!"</p> + +<p>"I should think so, indeed!" Sir John said, in his most biting tones. +"And understand this, young man, if my daughter dies I shall hold you +responsible for her death!"</p> + +<p>Ralph's face grew very white, but he did not reply.</p> + +<p>Sir John, however, was in no mood to be silent. He had a good many +things bottled up in his mind, and Ralph's visit gave him an excuse for +pulling the cork out.</p> + +<p>"I want to say this also to you," he said, "now that you have given me +an opportunity of opening my mind—that I consider young men of your +stamp a danger and a menace to the neighbourhood!"</p> + +<p>Ralph looked at him without flinching, but he did not speak.</p> + +<p>"There was a time," Sir John went on, "when people knew how to respect +their betters, when the working classes kept their place and did not +presume, and when such as you would never have ventured into this house +by the front door!"</p> + +<p>"I came by the nearest way," Ralph answered, "and did not trouble to +inquire which door it was."</p> + +<p>"Your father no doubt thinks he has been doing a wise thing in keeping +himself on short commons to give you what he foolishly imagines is an +education."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, but we are all kept on short commons because you took +advantage of my father's ignorance. If he had had a little better +education he would not have allowed himself to be duped by you!" And he +turned and made for the door.</p> + +<p>But Sir John intercepted him, with flashing eyes and passion-lined face.</p> + +<p>"Have you come here to insult me?" he thundered. "By Heaven, I've a good +mind to call my servants in and give you a good horsewhipping!"</p> + +<p>Ralph stood still and scowled angrily.</p> + +<p>"I neither came here to insult you nor to be insulted by you! I came +here to express my regret that I did not pocket my pride and open the +gate for your daughter. I have made the best amends in my power, and +now, if you will let me, I will go home."</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that I will let you!" Sir John said angrily. "It seems to +me the proper thing would be to send for the police and get you locked +up. How do I know that you did not put something in the way to prevent +my daughter's horse clearing the gate? I know that you hate your +betters—like most of your class, alas! in these times——"</p> + +<p>"We should not hate you if you dealt justly by us!" Ralph retorted.</p> + +<p>"Dealt justly, indeed!" Sir John sneered. "It makes me ill to hear such +as you talking about justice! You ought to be thankful that you are +allowed to live in the parish at all!"</p> + +<p>"We are. We are grateful for the smallest mercies—grateful for room to +walk about."</p> + +<p>"That's more than some of you deserve," Sir John retorted angrily. "Now +go home and help your father on the farm. And, by Jove, tell him if he's +behind with his ground rent this year I'll make him sit up."</p> + +<p>Ralph's eyes blazed in a moment. That ground rent was to him the sum of +all iniquity. It represented to him the climax of greed and injustice. +The bitterness of it had eaten out all the joy of his father's life and +robbed his mother of all the fruits of her thrift and economy.</p> + +<p>Ralph's face was toward the door; but he turned in a moment, white with +passion.</p> + +<p>"I wonder you are not ashamed to speak of that ground rent," he said +slowly, and with biting emphasis. "You, who took advantage of my +father's love for his native place, and of his ignorance of legal +phraseology—you, who robbed a poor man of his savings, and cheated his +children out of their due. Ground rent, indeed! I wonder the word does +not stick in your throat and choke you." And before Sir John could reply +he had pulled open the door and passed out into the hall.</p> + +<p>He walked home by the forbidden path through the plantation, feeling +more reckless and defiant than he had ever felt before. He was in the +mood to run his head against any brick wall that might stand in his way; +he almost hoped that a keeper would cross his path and arrest him. He +wanted to have another tilt with Sir John, and show him how lightly he +regarded his authority.</p> + +<p>No keeper, however, showed his face. He was left in undisturbed +possession of field and fell. He whistled loudly and defiantly, as he +strutted through the dim aisles of the plantation, and tried to persuade +himself that he was not a bit sorry that Sir John at that moment was +suffering all the tortures of suspense. He would have persuaded himself, +if he could, that he did not care whether Dorothy Hamblyn lived or died; +but that was altogether beyond his powers. He did care. Every fibre of +his being seemed to plead for her recovery.</p> + +<p>He came at length upon the scene of the previous day's accident. To all +appearances no one had visited it. The broken gate had not been touched. +On the ground was a dark stain which had been crimson the day before, +but no one would notice it unless it were pointed out; for the rest, +Nature showed no regard for human pain or grief.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious morning in late summer. The woods were at their best; +the fields were yellowing in all directions to the harvest. High in the +blue heavens the larks were trilling their morning song, while in the +banks and hedges the grasshoppers were whirring and chattering with all +their might. It was a morning to inspire the heart with confidence and +hope, to cleanse the eyes from the dust of doubt, and to uplift the +spirit from the fogs of pessimism and despair.</p> + +<p>And yet Ralph Penlogan heard no song that morning, nor even saw the +sunshine. A dull weight was pressing on his heart which he had no power +to lift. Anger and regret struggled within him for the mastery, while +constantly a new emotion—which he did not understand as yet—ran +through his veins like liquid fire.</p> + +<p>When he reached the stile he rested for a few moments, and recalled the +scene of the previous day. It was not difficult. The face of the fair +horsewoman he would never forget; the soft, imperious voice rang through +his brain like the sound of evening bells. Her smile was like sunshine +on waving corn.</p> + +<p>Then in his fancy he saw Jess dart forward, and then came the sickening +sound of splintering wood. What happened after that he knew all too +well.</p> + +<p>It would be a cruel thing for death to blot out a smile so sweet, and +the grave to hide a face so fair. While there were so many things in the +world that were neither lovely nor useful nor inspiring, it would seem +like a sin against Nature to blot out and destroy so sweet a presence. +Let the weeds be plucked up, let the thorns be burned; but the flowers +should be allowed to remain to brighten the world and gladden the hearts +of men.</p> + +<p>He sprang over the stile at length, and strode away in the direction of +Dingley Bottom with a scowl upon his face.</p> + +<p>What right had he to be thinking about the squire's daughter? Did he not +despise the class to which she belonged? Did he not hate her father +because, having a giant's strength, he used it like a giant? Had not the +justice of the strong become a byword and a loathing? Had he not sworn +eternal enmity to the oppressor and all who shared his gains?</p> + +<p>On the brow of the next low hill he paused again. Before him, in a +little hollow, lay the homestead his father had built; and spread out on +three sides were the fields he had reclaimed from the wilderness.</p> + +<p>It had been a hard and almost heartbreaking task, for when he commenced +the enterprise he had but a faint idea what it would cost. It seemed +easy enough to root up the furze bushes and plough down the heather, and +the soil looked so loamy and rich that he imagined a heavy crop would be +yielded the first year.</p> + +<p>And yet it was not to make money that David Penlogan had leased a +portion of Polskiddy Downs, and built a house thereon. It was rather +that he might have a quiet resting-place in the evening of his life, and +be able to spend his days in the open air—in the wind and sunshine—and +be set free from the perils that beset an underground captain in a +Cornish mine.</p> + +<p>With what high hopes he embarked upon the enterprise none but David +knew. It was his one big investment. All the savings of a lifetime went +into it. He took his hoarded sovereigns out of the bank without +misgiving, and felt as happy as a king, while he toiled like a slave.</p> + +<p>His neighbours stared and shook their heads when it leaked out on what +terms he had taken the lease.</p> + +<p>"Sir John has been too many for you, David," an old farmer said to him +one day. "You might as well empty your purse in his pocket right off. +You'll not have money enough to buy a coffin with when he's finished +with you."</p> + +<p>But David knew better, or fancied he did, which is much the same thing.</p> + +<p>He hired horses and ploughs and stubbers and hedgers and ditchers, and +masons and carpenters, and for a year that corner of Polskiddy Downs was +alive with people.</p> + +<p>The house was built from plans David prepared himself. Barn and cowsheds +were erected at a convenient distance. Hedges were carried in straight +lines across the newly cultivated fields. A small orchard was planted +beyond the kitchen garden, and everything, to David's hopeful eyes, +looked promising for the future.</p> + +<p>That was twelve years ago, and in those years David had grown to be an +old man. He had spent his days in the open air, it is true—in the wind +and sunshine, and in the rain and snow—and he had contracted rheumatism +and bronchitis, and all the heart had gone out of him in the hopeless +struggle.</p> + +<p>As Ralph looked out over the not too fruitful fields which his father +had reclaimed from the waste with such infinite toil, and at the +sacrifice of all his savings, he forgot the fair face of Dorothy +Hamblyn, which had been haunting him all the way back, and remembered +only the iron hand of her father.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE CHANCES OF LIFE</h3> + + +<p>Ralph had started so early that morning that he had had no time to get +breakfast. Now he began to feel the pangs of hunger most acutely.</p> + +<p>"I expect mother will have kept something for me," he said to himself, +as he descended the slope. "I hope she is not worrying about what has +become of me."</p> + +<p>He looked right and left for his father, expecting to find him at work +in the fields, but David was nowhere in evidence.</p> + +<p>Ralph made a bee-line across the fields, and was soon in the shelter of +the little homestead. He found his father and mother and his sister Ruth +still seated at the breakfast-table. Ruth pushed back her chair at the +sound of his footsteps and rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Why, Ralph," she said, "where have you been? Mother's been quite +worried about you."</p> + +<p>"If that's all she has to worry her, she needn't worry much," he said, +with a laugh. "But has anything happened? You all look desperately +sober."</p> + +<p>"We've heard some news that has made us all feel very anxious," David +answered wearily. "We've sat here talking about it for the last +half-hour."</p> + +<p>"Then the news concerns us all?" Ralph questioned, with a catch in his +voice.</p> + +<p>"Very closely, my boy—very closely. The truth is, Julian Seccombe has +got wounded out in Egypt."</p> + +<p>"And he's the last life on the farm?" Ralph questioned, with a gasp.</p> + +<p>"That is so, my boy. It seems strange that I should be so unfortunate in +the choice of lives, and yet I could not have been more careful. Who +could have thought that the parson's boy would become a soldier?"</p> + +<p>"Life is always uncertain," Ralph answered, with a troubled look in his +eyes, "whether a man is a soldier or a farmer."</p> + +<p>"That is so," David answered reflectively. "Yet my father held his +little place on only two lives, and one of them lived to be +seventy-five."</p> + +<p>"But, even then, I've heard you say the lease ran only a little over +sixty years. It's a wicked gamble, is this leasehold system, with the +chances in favour of the landlord."</p> + +<p>"Why a gamble in favour of the landlord, my boy?" David questioned, +lifting his mild eyes to his son's face.</p> + +<p>"Why, because if all the 'lives' live out their threescore years and +ten, the lease is still a short one; for you don't start with the first +year of anyone's life."</p> + +<p>"That is true," David answered sadly. "The parson's boy was ten, which I +thought would be balanced by the other two."</p> + +<p>"And the other two did not live ten years between them."</p> + +<p>"Of course, nobody could foresee that," David answered sadly. "They were +both healthy children. Our little Billy was three, and the healthiest +baby of the lot."</p> + +<p>"But with all the ailments of children in front of him?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no. He had had whooping-cough, and got through it easily. It was +the scarlet fever that carried him off. Poor little chap, he was gone in +no time."</p> + +<p>"And so, within a year, and after you had spent the greater part of your +money, your farm hung upon two lives," Ralph said bitterly.</p> + +<p>"But, humanly speaking, they were good lives. Not lives that would be +exposed to much risk. Lawyer Doubleday told me that he intended to bring +up his boy to the same profession, and Parson Seccombe told me he had +dedicated Julian to the Church in his infancy. What better lives, +humanly speaking, could you get? Neither parsons nor lawyers run any +risks to speak of."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's true enough. The system being what it is, you did the best +you could, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"Nobody could foresee," David said sadly, "that Doubleday's boy would go +and get drowned. I nearly fainted when I heard the news."</p> + +<p>"And now you say that young Seccombe has got shot out in Egypt."</p> + +<p>"I don't know as to his being shot; but Tom Dyer, who was here this +morning, said that he had just seen the parson, who was in great +trouble, news having reached him last evening that Julian was wounded."</p> + +<p>"Then if the parson's in great trouble, the chances are he's badly +wounded."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I thought of walking across to St. Goram directly, and +seeing the parson for myself; but I'm almost afraid to do so, lest the +worst should be true."</p> + +<p>"We shall have to face it, whatever it is," Ralph said doggedly.</p> + +<p>"But think of what it would mean to us if the parson's son should die! +Poor mother is that troubled that she has not been able to eat a +mouthful of breakfast!"</p> + +<p>"She seems scarcely able to talk about it," Ralph said, glancing at the +door through which his mother and Ruth had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"She's a little bit disposed to look on the dark side of things +generally," David said slowly. "For myself, I keep hoping for the best. +It doesn't seem possible that God can strip us of everything at a blow."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem to me as though God had any hand in the business," +Ralph answered doggedly.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Ralph, my boy! The issues of life and death are in His hands."</p> + +<p>"And you believe also that He is the author of the leasehold system that +obtains in this country?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that, Ralph; but He permits it."</p> + +<p>"Just as He permits lying and theft, and murder and war, and all the +other evil things there are in the world. But that is nothing to the +point. You can't make me believe that the Almighty ever meant a few +people to parcel out the world among themselves, and cheat all the rest +out of their rights."</p> + +<p>"The world is what it is, my boy, and neither you nor I can alter it."</p> + +<p>"And you think it is our duty to submit quietly and uncomplainingly to +whatever wrong or injustice is heaped upon us?"</p> + +<p>"We must submit to the law, my boy, however hardly it presses upon us."</p> + +<p>"But we ought to try, all the same, to get bad laws mended."</p> + +<p>"You can't ladle the sea dry with a limpet-shell, Ralph, nor carry off a +mountain in your pocket. No, no; let us not talk about the impossible, +nor give up hope until we are forced to. Perhaps young Seccombe will +recover."</p> + +<p>"But if he should die, father. What would happen then?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, my boy, and I can't bear to think."</p> + +<p>"But we'd better face the possibility," Ralph answered doggedly, "so +that, if the worst should come to the worst, we may know just where we +are."</p> + +<p>"'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,'" David answered, with a +far-away look in his eyes. And he got up from his seat and walked slowly +out of the house.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat looking out of the window for several minutes, and then he +went off in search of his mother and Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, mother," he said, as cheerily as he could, "that I have +had no breakfast yet? And, in spite of the bad news, I am too hungry for +words."</p> + +<p>"Had no breakfast?" she said, lifting up her hands in surprise. "I made +sure you got something to eat before you went out."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you were wrong for once," he said, laughing. "Now, please +put me out of my misery as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Ralph," she answered, with a sigh, "if we had no worse misery than +hunger, how happy we should be!"</p> + +<p>"That is so, mother," he said, with a laugh. "Hunger is not at all bad +when you have plenty to eat."</p> + +<p>She sighed again.</p> + +<p>"It is well that you young people don't see far ahead of you," she said +plaintively. "But come here and get your breakfast."</p> + +<p>Two hours later, when in the home close hoeing turnips, he lifted his +head and saw his father coming across the fields from the direction of +St. Goram, he straightened his back at once and waited. He knew that he +had been to see the parson to get the latest and fullest news. David +came slowly on with his eyes upon the ground, as if buried in profound +thought.</p> + +<p>"Well, father, what news?" Ralph questioned, when his father came within +speaking distance.</p> + +<p>David started as though wakened out of a reverie, and came to a full +stop. Then a pathetic smile stole over his gentle face, and he came +forward with a quickened step.</p> + +<p>"I waited for the parson to get a reply from the War Office, or I should +have been home sooner," he said, bringing out the words slowly and +painfully.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Ralph questioned, though he felt sure, from his father's manner, +what the answer would be.</p> + +<p>"The parson fears the worst," David answered, bringing out the words in +jerks. "Poor man! He's in great trouble. I almost forgot my own when I +thought of his."</p> + +<p>"But what was the news he got from the War Office?" Ralph questioned.</p> + +<p>"Not much. He's on the list of the dangerously wounded, that's all."</p> + +<p>"But he may recover," Ralph said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he may," David answered, with a sigh. "God alone knows, but the +parson gave me no comfort at all."</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"He says that the swords and spears of the dervishes are often poisoned; +then, you see, water is scarce, and the heat is terrible, so that a sick +man has no chance like he has here."</p> + +<p>Ralph did not reply. For a moment or two he looked at his father, then +went on with his hoeing. David walked by his side between the rows of +turnips. His face was drawn and pale, and his lips twitched incessantly.</p> + +<p>"The world seems terribly topsy-turvy," he said at length, as if +speaking to himself. "I oughtn't to be idling here, but all the heart's +gone out of me somehow."</p> + +<p>"We must hope for the best," Ralph said, without raising his head.</p> + +<p>"The parson's boy is the last 'life,'" David went on, as though he had +not heard what Ralph had said. "The last life. Just a thread, a feeble +little thread. One little touch, and then——"</p> + +<p>"Well, and what then?" Ralph questioned.</p> + +<p>"If the boy dies, this little farm is no longer ours. Though I have +reclaimed it from the waste, and spent on it all my savings, and toiled +from dawn to dark for twelve long years, and built the house and the +barn and the cowsheds, and gone into debt to stock it; if that boy dies +it all goes."</p> + +<p>"You mean that the squire will take possession?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that Sir John will claim it as his."</p> + +<p>Ralph did not speak again for several moments, but he felt his blood +tingling to his finger-tips.</p> + +<p>"It's a wicked, burning shame," he jerked out at length.</p> + +<p>"It is the law, my boy," David said sadly, "and you see there's no going +against the law."</p> + +<p>Ralph hung his head, and began hoeing vigorously his row.</p> + +<p>"Besides," David went on, "you see I was party to the arrangement—that +is, I accepted the conditions; but the luck has been on Sir John's +side."</p> + +<p>"He took a mean advantage of you, father, and you know it, and he knows +it," Ralph snapped.</p> + +<p>"He knew that I had set my heart on a bit of land that I could call my +own; that I wanted a sort of resting-place in my old age, and that I +desired to end my days in the parish in which I was born."</p> + +<p>"And so he put the screw on. It's always been a wonder to me, since I +could think about it at all, that you accepted the conditions. I would +have seen Sir John at the bottom of the sea first."</p> + +<p>"I did try to get better terms," David answered, looking wistfully +across the fields, "and I mentioned ninety-nine years as the term of the +lease, and he nearly turned me out of his office. 'Three lives or +nothing,' he snarled, 'and be quick about it.' So I had to make up my +mind there and then."</p> + +<p>"You'd have been better off, father, if you'd dropped all your money +down a mine shaft, and gone to work on a farm as a day labourer," Ralph +said bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have had to work so hard," David assented.</p> + +<p>"And you would have got more money, and wouldn't have had a hundredth +part of the anxiety."</p> + +<p>"You see, I thought the land was richer than it has turned out to be, +and the furze roots have kept sprouting year after year, and that has +meant ploughing the fields afresh. And the amount of manure I have had +to put in has handicapped me terribly. But I have kept hoping to get +into smooth waters by and by. The farm is looking better now than ever +it did before."</p> + +<p>"But the ground rent, father, is an outrage. Did you really understand +how much you were paying?"</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't consent to any less," David said wistfully. "You see things +were good with farmers at the time, and rents were going up. And then I +thought I should be allowed to work the quarry down in the delf, and +make some money out of the stone."</p> + +<p>"And you were done in that as in other things?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. There's no denying it. When I got to understand the +deed—and it took me a goodish time to riddle it out—I found out that I +had no right to the stone or the mineral, or the fish in the stream, or +to the trees, or to the game. Do you know he actually charged me for the +stone dug out of my own farm to build the house with?"</p> + +<p>"And ever since has been working the quarry at a big profit, which would +never have been unearthed but for you, and destroying one of your fields +in the process?"</p> + +<p>"I felt that about the quarry almost more than anything," David went on. +"But he's never discovered the tin lode, and I shall never tell him."</p> + +<p>"Is there a tin lode on the farm?" Ralph questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Ay, a beauty! It must be seven years ago since I discovered it, and +I've kept it to myself. You see, it would ruin the farm to work it, and +I should not get a penny of the dues; they'd all go to the squire."</p> + +<p>"Everything gets back to the rich in the long-run," Ralph said bitterly. +"There's no chance for the poor man anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, in a few years' time it won't matter to any of us," David +said, looking with dreamy eyes across the valley to the distant range of +hills. "In the grave we shall all be equal, and we shall never hear +again the voice of the oppressor."</p> + +<p>"That does not seem to me anything to the point," Ralph said, flashing +out the words angrily. "We've got as good a right to live as anybody +else. I don't ask favours from anybody, but I do want justice and fair +play."</p> + +<p>"It's difficult to know what justice is in this world," David said +moodily. "But there, I've been idling long enough. It's time I went back +and fetched my hoe and did a bit of work." And he turned slowly on his +heel and walked away toward the house.</p> + +<p>Ralph straightened his back and looked after him, and as he did so the +moisture came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Poor old father!" he said to himself, with a sigh. "He's feeling this +much more deeply than anyone knows. I do hope for all our sakes that +Julian Seccombe will recover."</p> + +<p>For the rest of the day Ralph's thoughts hovered between the possible +loss of their farm and the chances of Dorothy Hamblyn's recovery. He +hardly knew why he should worry himself about the squire's daughter so +much. Was it solely on the ground that he had refused to open the gate, +or was it because she was so pretty?</p> + +<p>He felt almost vexed with himself when this thought suggested itself to +his mind. What did it matter to him whether she was fair or plain? She +was Sir John Hamblyn's daughter, and that ought to be sufficient for +him. If there was any man on earth he hated and despised it was John +Hamblyn; hence to concern himself about the fate of his daughter because +she was good to look upon seemed the most ridiculous folly.</p> + +<p>It must surely be the other consideration that worried him. If he had +opened the gate the accident would not have happened; but neither would +it if she had ridden home the other way. She was paying the penalty of +her own wilfulness and her own imperiousness. He was not called on to be +the hack of anybody.</p> + +<p>But from whatever cause his anxiety might spring, it was there, +deep-rooted and persistent.</p> + +<p>He was glad when night came, so that he might forget himself, forget the +world, and forget everybody in it in the sweet oblivion of sleep.</p> + +<p>He hoped that the new day would bring better news, but in that he was +disappointed. The earlier part of the day brought no news at all, and +neither he nor his father went to seek it. But as the afternoon began to +wane, a horse-dealer from St. Goram left word that the parson's son was +dead, and that the squire's daughter was not likely to get better.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>WAITING FOR THE BLOW TO FALL</h3> + + +<p>David Penlogan was not the man to cry out when he was hurt. He went +about his work in dumb resignation. The calamity was too great to be +talked about, too overwhelming to be shaped into words. He could only +shut his teeth and endure. To discuss the matter, even with his wife, +would be like probing a wound with a red-hot needle. Better let it be. +There are times when words are like a blister on a burn.</p> + +<p>What the future had in store for him he did not know, and he had not the +courage to inquire. One text of Scripture he repeated to himself +morning, noon, and night, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," +and to that he held. It was his one anchor. The rope was frayed, and the +anchor out of sight—whether hooked to a rock or simply embedded in the +sand he did not know—but it steadied him while the storm was at its +worst. It helped him to endure.</p> + +<p>Harvest was beginning, and the crop had to be gathered in—gathered in +from fields that were no longer his, and that possibly he would never +plant again. It was all very pathetic. He seemed sometimes like a man +preparing for his own funeral.</p> + +<p>"When next year comes——" he would say to himself, and then he would +stop short. He had not courage enough yet to think of next year; his +business was with the present. His first, and, as far as he could see, +his only duty was to gather in the crops. Sir John had not spoken to him +yet. He was too concerned about his daughter to think of so small a +matter as the falling-in of a lease. Strange that what was a mere trifle +to one man should be a matter of life and death to another.</p> + +<p>It was a sad and silent harvest-tide for the occupants of Hillside Farm. +The impending calamity, instead of drawing them more closely together, +seemed to separate them. Each was afraid of betraying emotion before the +rest. So they avoided each other. Even at meal-times they all pretended +to be so busy that there was no time to talk. The weather was +magnificent, and all the cornfields were growing ripe together. This was +true of nearly every other farm in the parish. Hence hired labour could +not be had for love or money. The big farmers had picked up all the +casual harvesters beforehand. The small farmers would have to employ +their womenfolk and children.</p> + +<p>Ralph and his father got up each morning at sunrise, and, armed with +reaping-hooks, went their ways in different directions. Ralph undertook +to cut down the barley-field, David negotiated a large field of oats. +They could not talk while they were in different fields. Moreover, +neither was in the mood for company. Later on they might be able to talk +calmly and without emotion, but at present it would be foolish to make +the attempt.</p> + +<p>Every day they expected that Sir John Hamblyn or his steward would put +in an appearance; that would bring things to a head, and put an end to +the little conspiracy of silence that had now lasted nearly a week. But +day after day passed away, and the solemn gloom of the farm remained +unbroken.</p> + +<p>Ralph kept doggedly to his work. Work was the best antidote against +painful thoughts. Since the morning he walked across to Hamblyn Manor, +in order to ease his conscience by making a clean breast of it, he had +never ventured beyond his own homestead. He tried to persuade himself it +was no concern of his what happened, and that if Dorothy Hamblyn died it +would be a just judgment on Sir John for his grasping and oppressive +ways.</p> + +<p>But his heart always revolted against such reasoning. Deep down in his +soul he knew that, for the moment, he was more concerned about the fate +of Dorothy than anything else, and that it would be an infinite relief +to him to hear that she was out of danger. Try as he would, he could not +shake off the feeling that he was more or less responsible for the +accident.</p> + +<p>But day by day the news found its way across to the farm that "the +squire's little maid," as the villagers called her, was no better. +Sometimes, indeed, the news was that she was a good deal worse, and that +the doctors held out very little hope of her recovery.</p> + +<p>Ralph remained as silent on this as on the other subject. He had never +told anyone but Sir John that he had refused to open the gate. It had +seemed to him, while he sat on the stile and faced the squire's +daughter, a brave and courageous part to take, but he was ashamed of it +now. It would have been a far more heroic thing to have pocketed the +affront and overcome arrogance by generosity.</p> + +<p>But vision often comes too late. We see the better part when we are no +longer able to take it.</p> + +<p>Sunday brought the family together, and broke the crust of silence that +had prevailed so long.</p> + +<p>It was David's usual custom on a Sunday morning to walk across the +fields to his class-meeting, held in the little Methodist Chapel at +Veryan. But this particular Sunday morning he had not the courage to go. +If he could not open his heart before the members of his own family, how +could he before others? Besides, his experience would benefit no one. He +had no tale to tell of faith triumphing over despondency, and hope +banishing despair. He had come nearer being an infidel than ever before +in his life. It is not every man who can see that Providence may be as +clearly manifested in calamity as in prosperity.</p> + +<p>So instead of going to his meeting, David went out for a quiet walk in +the fields. He could talk to himself, if he had not the courage to talk +to others. Besides, Nature was nearly always restful, if not inspiring.</p> + +<p>Ralph came down to breakfast an hour later than was his custom. He was +so weary with the work of the week that he was half disposed to lie in +bed till the following morning. He found his breakfast set for him in +what was called the "living-room," but neither Ruth nor his mother was +visible. He ate his food without tasting it. His mind was too full of +other things to trouble himself about the quality of his victuals. When +he had finished he rose slowly from his chair, took a cloth cap from a +peg, and went through the open door into the garden. Plucking a sprig of +lad's-love, he stuck it into the buttonhole of his jacket, then climbed +over the hedge into an adjoining field.</p> + +<p>He came face to face with his father ten minutes later, and stared at +him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought you had gone to your meeting!" he said, in a tone of +wonderment.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel in any mood for meetings," David answered gloomily. "I +reckon I'm best by myself."</p> + +<p>"I fancy we've all been thinking the same thing these last few days," +Ralph answered, with a smile. "I'm not sure, however, that we're right. +We've got to talk about things sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I suppose that is so," David answered wearily. "But, to tell you +the truth, I haven't got my bearings yet."</p> + +<p>"I reckon our first business is to try to keep afloat," Ralph answered. +"If we can do that, we may find our bearings later on."</p> + +<p>"You will find no difficulty, Ralph, for you are young, and have all the +world before you. Besides, I've given you an education. I knew it was +all I could give you."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it won't be of much use to me in a place like this," Ralph +answered, with a despondent look in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"There's no knowing, my boy. Knowledge, they say, is power. If you are +thrown overboard you will swim; but with mother and me it is different. +We're too old to start again, and all our savings are swallowed up."</p> + +<p>"Not all, surely, father! There are the crops and cattle and +implements."</p> + +<p>David shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Over against the crops," he said, "are the seed bills, and the manure +bills, and the ground rent, and over against the cattle is the mortgage. +I never thought of telling you, Ralph, for I never reckoned on this +trouble coming. But when I started I thought the money I had would be +quite enough not only to build the house and outbuildings, and bring the +farm under cultivation, but to stock it as well. But it was a much more +expensive business than I knew."</p> + +<p>"And so you had to mortgage the farm?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lad. Nobody would lend money on a three-life lease."</p> + +<p>"And yet you risked your all on it?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, my boy, I did it for the best. God knows I did! I wanted to provide +a nest for our old age."</p> + +<p>"No one will blame you on that score," Ralph answered, with tears in his +eyes; "but the best ships founder sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have kept saying to myself ever since the news came that I am +not the only man who has come to grief, and yet I don't know, my boy, +that that helps me very much."</p> + +<p>Ralph was silent for several minutes; then he said—</p> + +<p>"Is this mortgage or note of hand or bill of sale—or whatever it +is—for a large amount?"</p> + +<p>"Well, rather, Ralph. I'm afraid, if we have to shift from here, +there'll be little or nothing left."</p> + +<p>"But if you are willing to remain as tenant, Sir John will make no +attempt to move you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure, my son. Sir John is a hard man and a bitter, and he +has no liking for me. At the last election I was not on his side, as you +may remember, and he never forgets such things."</p> + +<p>Ralph turned away and bit his lip. The memory of what the squire said to +him a few days previously swept over him like a cold flood.</p> + +<p>"I'm inclined to think, father," he said at length, "that we'd better +prepare for the worst. It'll be better than building on any +consideration we may receive from the squire."</p> + +<p>"I think you are right, my boy." And they turned and walked toward the +house side by side.</p> + +<p>They continued their talk in the house, and over the dinner-table. Now +that the ice was broken the stream of conversation flowed freely. Ruth +and Mrs. Penlogan let out the pent-up feelings of their hearts, and +their tears fell in abundance.</p> + +<p>It did the women good to cry. It eased the pain that was becoming +intolerable. Ralph talked bravely and heroically. All was not lost. They +had each other, and they had health and strength, and neither of them +was afraid of hard work.</p> + +<p>By tea-time they had talked each other into quite a hopeful frame of +mind. Mrs. Penlogan was inclined to the belief that Sir John would +recognise the equity of the case, and would let them remain as tenants +at a very reasonable rent.</p> + +<p>"Don't let us build on that, mother," Ralph said. "If he foregoes the +tiniest mite of his pound of flesh, so much the better; but to reckon on +it might mean disappointment. We'd better face the worst, and if we do +it bravely we shall win."</p> + +<p>In this spirit they went off to the evening service at the little chapel +at Veryan. The building was plain—four walls with a lid, somebody +described it—the service homely in the extreme, the singing decidedly +amateurish, but there were warmth and emotion and conviction, and +everybody was pleased to see the Penlogans in their places.</p> + +<p>At the close of the service a little crowd gathered round them, and +manifested their sympathy in a dozen unspoken ways. Of course, everybody +knew what had happened, and everybody wondered what the squire would do +in such a case. The law was on his side, no doubt, but there ought to be +some place for equity also. David Penlogan had scarcely begun yet to +reap any of the fruit of his labour, and it would be a most unfair +thing, law or no law, that the ground landlord should come in and take +everything.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he can't do it," said an old farmer, when discussing the matter +with his neighbour. "He may be a hard man, but he'd never be able to +hold up his head again if he was to do sich a thing."</p> + +<p>"It's my opinion he'll stand on the law of the thing," was the reply. "A +bargain's a bargain, as you know very well, an' what's the use of a +bargain ef you don't stick to 'un?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, but law's one thing and right's another, and a man's bound to have +some regard for fair play."</p> + +<p>"He ought to have, no doubt; but the squire's 'ard up, as everybody +knows, and is puttin' on the screw on every tenant he's got. My opinion +is he'll stand on the law."</p> + +<p>No one said anything to David, however, about what had happened, except +in the most indirect way. Sunday evening was not the time to discuss +secular matters. Nevertheless, David felt the unspoken sympathy of his +neighbours, and returned home comforted.</p> + +<p>The next week passed as the previous one had done, and the week after +that. The squire had not come across, nor sent his steward. David began +to fear that the long silence was ominous. Mrs. Penlogan held to the +belief that Sir John meant to deal generously by them. Ralph kept his +thoughts to himself, but on the whole he was not hopeful.</p> + +<p>The weather continued beautifully fine, and all hands were kept busy in +the fields. Except on Sundays they scarcely ever caught a glimpse of +their neighbours. No one had any time to pay visits or receive them. The +harvest must be got in, if possible, before the weather broke, and to +that end everyone who could help—little and big, young and old—was +pressed into the service.</p> + +<p>On the big farms there was a good deal of fun and hilarity. The village +folk—lads and lasses alike—who knew anything about harvest work, and +were willing to earn an extra sixpence, were made heartily welcome. +Consequently there was not a little horse-play, and no small amount of +flirtation, especially after night came on, and the harvest moon began +to climb up into the heavens.</p> + +<p>Then, when the field was safely sheafed and shocked, they repaired to +the farm kitchen, where supper was laid, and where ancient jokes were +trotted out amid roars of laughter, and where the hero of the evening +was the man who had a new story to tell. Supper ended, they made their +way home through the quiet lanes or across the fields. That, to some of +the young people, seemed the best part of the day. They forgot the +weariness engendered by a dozen hours in the open air while they +listened to a story old as the human race, and yet as new to-day as when +syllabled by the first happy lover.</p> + +<p>But on the small farms, where no outside help was employed, there was +very little mirth or hilarity. All the romance of harvest was found +where the crowd was gathered. Young people sometimes gave their services +of an evening, so that they could take part in the fun.</p> + +<p>As David Penlogan and his family toiled in the fields in the light of +the harvest moon they sometimes heard sounds of merry-making and +laughter floating across the valley from distant farmsteads, and they +wondered a little bit sadly where the next harvest-time would find them.</p> + +<p>On the third Saturday night they stood still to listen to a familiar +sound in that part of the country.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Ralph," Ruth said, "they're cutting neck at Treligga."</p> + +<p>Cutting neck means cutting the last shock of the year's corn, and is +celebrated by a big shout in the field, and a special supper in the +farmer's kitchen.</p> + +<p>Ralph raised himself from his stooping posture, and his father did the +same. Ruth took her mother's hand in hers, and all four stood and +listened. Clear and distinct across the moonlit fields the words rang—</p> + +<p>"What have 'ee? What have 'ee?"</p> + +<p>"A neck! A neck!"</p> + +<p>"Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah!"</p> + +<p>Slowly the echoes died over the hills, and then silence reigned again.</p> + +<p>Ralph and David had also cut neck, but they raised no shout over it. +They were in no mood for jubilation.</p> + +<p>Sir John Hamblyn had not spoken yet, nor had his steward been across to +see them. Why those many days of grace, neither David nor Ralph could +surmise.</p> + +<p>It was reported that the squire's daughter was slowly recovering from +her accident, but that many months would elapse before she was quite +well and able to ride again.</p> + +<p>"We shall not have to wait much longer, depend upon it," David said, on +Monday morning, as he and Ralph went out in the fields together; and so +it proved. About ten o'clock a horseman was seen riding up the lane +toward the house. David was the first to catch sight of him.</p> + +<p>"It's the squire himself," he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>DAVID SPEAKS HIS MIND</h3> + + +<p>Sir John alighted from his horse and threw the reins over the garden +gate, then he walked across the stockyard, and looked at the barn and +the cowsheds, taking particular notice of the state of repair they were +in. After awhile he returned to the dwelling-house and walked round it +deliberately, looking carefully all the time at the roof and windows, +but he did not attempt to go inside.</p> + +<p>David and Ralph watched him from the field, but neither attempted to go +near him.</p> + +<p>"He'll come to us when he has anything to say," David said, with a +little catch in his voice.</p> + +<p>Ralph noticed that his father trembled a good deal, and that he was pale +even to the lips.</p> + +<p>The squire came hurrying across the fields at length, slapping his leg +as he walked with his riding-crop. His face was hard and set, like a man +who had braced himself to do an unpleasant task, and was determined to +carry it through. Ralph watched his face narrowly as he drew near, but +he got no hope or inspiration from it. The squire did not notice him, +but addressed himself at once to David.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Penlogan!" he said. "I see you have got down all your +corn."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, we cut neck on Saturday night."</p> + +<p>"And not a bad crop either, by the look of it."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, it's pretty middling. The farm is just beginning to show some +fruit for all the labour and money that have been spent on it."</p> + +<p>"Exactly so. Labour and manure always tell in the end. You know, of +course, that the lease has fallen in?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir. It's hard on the parson at St. Goram, and it's harder lines +on me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's rough on you both, I admit. But we can't be against these +things. When the Almighty does a thing, no man can say nay."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure that the Almighty does a lot of those things that +people say He does."</p> + +<p>"You're not?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I don't see that the parson's son had any call to go out to +Egypt to shoot Arabs, particularly when he knew that my farm hung on his +life."</p> + +<p>"He went at the call of duty," said the squire unctuously; "went to +defend his Queen and country."</p> + +<p>"Don't believe it," said David doggedly. "Neither the Queen nor the +country was in any danger. He went because he had a roving disposition +and no stomach for useful ways."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, he's dead," said the squire, "and naturally we are all +sorry—sorry for his father particularly."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are not sorry for me?" David questioned.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; in some respects I am. The luck has gone against you, +there's no denying, and one does not like to see a fellow down on his +luck."</p> + +<p>"Then in that case I presume you do not intend to take advantage of my +bad luck?"</p> + +<p>The squire raised his eyebrows, and his lip curled slightly.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand what you mean," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's this way," David said mildly. "According to law this little +farm is now yours."</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"But according to right it is not yours—it is mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed?"</p> + +<p>"You need not say, 'Oh, indeed.' You can see it as clearly as I do. I've +made the farm. I reclaimed it from the waste. I've fenced it and manured +it, and built houses upon it. And what twelve years ago was a furzy down +is now a smiling homestead, and you have not spent a penny piece on it, +and yet you say it is yours."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is mine."</p> + +<p>"Well, I say it isn't yours. It's mine by every claim of equity and +justice."</p> + +<p>"I'm not talking about the claims of equity and justice," the squire +said, colouring violently. "I take my stand on the law of the country; +that's good enough for me. And what's good enough for me ought to be +good enough for you," he added, with a snort.</p> + +<p>"That don't by any means follow," David answered quietly. "The laws of +the land were made by the rich in the interests of the rich. That +they're good for you there is no denying; but for me they're cruel and +oppressive."</p> + +<p>"I don't see it," the squire said, with an impatient shrug of his +shoulders. "You live in a free country, and have all the advantages of +our great institutions."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you call the leasehold system one of our great institutions?" +David questioned.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what then?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see much advantage in living under it," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"You might have something a great deal worse," the squire said angrily. +"The high-and-mighty airs some of you people take on are simply +outrageous."</p> + +<p>"We don't ask for any favours," David said meekly. "But we've a right to +live as well as other people."</p> + +<p>"Nobody denies your right, that I know of."</p> + +<p>"But what am I to do now that my little farm is gone? All the savings of +a lifetime, and all the toil of the last dozen years, fall into your +pocket."</p> + +<p>"I grant that the luck has been against you in this matter. But we have +no right to complain of the ways of Providence. The luck might just as +easily have gone against me as against you."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in mixing luck and Providence up in that way," David +answered, with averted eyes. "But, as far as I can see, what you call +luck couldn't possibly have gone against you."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because you laid down the conditions, and however the thing turned out +you would stand to win."</p> + +<p>"I don't see it."</p> + +<p>"You don't?" And David gave a loud sniff. "Why, if all the 'lives' had +lived till they were eighty, I and mine would not have got our own +back."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense!" the squire said angrily. "Besides, you agreed to +the conditions."</p> + +<p>"I know it," David answered sadly. "You would grant me no better, and I +was hopeful and ignorant, and looked at things through rose-coloured +glasses."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure the farm has turned out very well," the squire replied, with a +hurried glance round him.</p> + +<p>"It's just beginning to yield some little return," David said, looking +off to the distant fields. "For years it's done little more than pay the +ground rent. But this year it seems to have turned the corner. It ought +to be a good little farm in the future." And David sighed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it ought to be a good farm, and what is more, it is a good farm," +the squire said fiercely. "Upon my soul, I believe I've let it too +cheap!"</p> + +<p>"You've done what, sir?" David questioned, lifting his head suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I said I believed I had let it too cheap. It's worth more than I am +going to get for it."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say you have let it?" David said, in a tone of +incredulity.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have let it. I could have let it five times over, for +there's no denying it's an exceedingly pretty and compact little farm."</p> + +<p>At this point Ralph came forward with white face and trembling lips.</p> + +<p>"Did I hear you tell father that you had let this farm?" he questioned, +bringing the words out slowly and with an effort.</p> + +<p>"My business is with your father only," the squire said stiffly, and +with a curl of the lip.</p> + +<p>"What concerns my father concerns me," Ralph answered quietly, "for my +labour has gone into the farm as well as his."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing to the point," the squire answered stiffly. And he +turned again to David, who stood with blanched face and downcast eyes.</p> + +<p>"I want to make it as easy and pleasant for you as possible," the squire +went on. "So I have arranged that you can stay here till Michaelmas +without paying any rent at all."</p> + +<p>David looked up with an expression of wonder in his eyes, but he did not +reply.</p> + +<p>"Between now and Michaelmas you will be able to look round you," the +squire continued, "and, in case you don't intend to take a farm anywhere +else, you will be able to get your corn threshed and such things as you +don't want to take with you turned into money. William Jenkins, I +understand, is willing to take the root crops at a valuation, also the +straw, which, by the terms of your lease, cannot be taken off the farm."</p> + +<p>"So William Jenkins is to come here, is he?" David questioned suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I have let the farm to him," the squire replied pompously, "and, as I +have before intimated, he will take possession at Michaelmas."</p> + +<p>"It is an accursed and a cruel shame!" Ralph blurted out vehemently.</p> + +<p>The squire started and looked at him.</p> + +<p>"And why could you not have let the farm to me?" David questioned +mildly, "or, at any rate, given me the refusal of it? You said just now +that you were sorry for me. Is this the way you show your sorrow? Is +this doing to others as you would be done by?"</p> + +<p>"I have surely the right to let my own farm to whomsoever I please," the +squire said, in a tone of offended dignity.</p> + +<p>"This farm was not yours to start with," Ralph said, flinging himself in +front of the squire. "Before you enclosed it, it was common land, and +belonged to the people. You had no more right to it than the man in the +moon. But because you were strong, and the poor people had no power to +oppose you, you stole it from them."</p> + +<p>"What is that, young man?" Sir John said, stepping back and striking a +defiant attitude.</p> + +<p>"I said you stole Polskiddy Downs from the people. It had been common +land from time immemorial, and you know it." And Ralph stared him +straight in the eyes without flinching. "You took away the rights of the +people, shut them out from their own, let the land that did not belong +to you, and pocketed the profits."</p> + +<p>"Young man, I'll make you suffer for this insult," Sir John stammered, +white with passion.</p> + +<p>"And God will make you suffer for this insult and wrong to us," Ralph +replied, with flashing eyes. "Do you think that robbing the poor, and +cheating honest people out of their rights, will go unpunished?"</p> + +<p>Sir John raised his riding-crop suddenly, and struck at Ralph with all +his might. Ralph caught the crop in his hand, and wrenched it from his +grasp, then deliberately broke it across his knee and flung the pieces +from him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"<span class="smcap">Sir John raised his hunting-crop, and struck at Ralph +with all his might.</span>"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>For several moments the squire seemed too astonished either to speak or +move. In all his life before he had never been so insulted. He glowered +at Ralph, and looked him up and down, but he did not go near him. He was +no match for this young giant in physical strength.</p> + +<p>David seemed almost as much astonished as the squire. He looked at his +son, but he did not open his lips.</p> + +<p>The squire recovered his voice after a few moments.</p> + +<p>"If I had been disposed to deal generously with you——" he began.</p> + +<p>"You never were so disposed," Ralph interposed bitingly. "You did your +worst before you came. We understand now why you kept away so long. I +wonder you are not ashamed to show your face here now."</p> + +<p>"Cannot you put a muzzle on this wild beast?" the squire said, turning +to David.</p> + +<p>"He has not spoken to you very respectfully," David replied slowly, "but +there's no denying the truth of much that he has said."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Then let me tell you I am glad you will have to clear out of +the parish."</p> + +<p>"You would have been glad if I could have been cleared out of the parish +before the last election," David said insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"I have never interfered with your politics since you came."</p> + +<p>"You had no right to; but you've intimidated a great many others, as +everybody in the division knows."</p> + +<p>Sir John grew violently red again, and turned on his heel. He had meant +to be conciliatory when he came, and to prove to David, if possible, +that he had dealt by him very considerately, and even generously. But +the tables had been turned on him unexpectedly, and he had been insulted +to his face.</p> + +<p>"This is the result of the Board schools," he reflected to himself +angrily. "I always said that education would be the ruin of the working +classes. They learn enough to make them impertinent and discontented, +and then they are flung adrift to insult their betters and undermine our +most sacred institutions. That young fellow will be a curse to society +if he's allowed to go on. If I could have my way, I'd lock him up for a +year. He's evidently infected his father with his notions, and he'll go +on infecting other people." And he faced round again, with an angry look +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I took the trouble to come and speak to you at all," he said. +"I did it in good part, and with the best intentions. I wanted to show +you that my action is strictly within the law, and that in letting you +remain till Michaelmas I was doing a generous thing. But clearly my good +feeling and good intentions are thrown away."</p> + +<p>"Good feelings are best shown in kind deeds," David said quietly. "If +you had come to me and said, 'David, you are unfortunate, but as your +loss is my gain, I won't insist on the pound of flesh the law allows me, +but I'll let you have the farm for another eight or ten years on the +ground rent alone, so that you can recoup yourself a little for all your +expenditure'—if you had said that, sir, I should have believed in your +good feelings. But since you have let the little place over my head, and +turned me out of the house I built and paid for out of my own earnings, +I think, sir, the less said about your good feelings the better."</p> + +<p>"As you will," the squire replied stiffly, and in a hurt tone. "As you +refuse to meet me in a friendly spirit, you must not be surprised if I +insist upon my own to the full. My agent will see you about putting the +place in proper repair. I notice that one of the sheds is slated only +about half-way up, the remainder being covered with corrugated iron. You +will see to it that the entire roof is properly slated. The stable door +is also worn out, and will have to be replaced by a new one. I noticed, +also, as I rode along, that several of the gates are sadly out of +repair. These, by the terms of the lease, you will be required to make +good. If I mistake not, also the windows and doors of the dwelling-house +are in need of a coat of paint. I did not go inside, but my agent will +go over the place and make an inventory of the things requiring to be +done."</p> + +<p>"He may make out twenty inventories if he likes," David said angrily, +"but I shan't do a stitch more to the place than I've done already."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, that is not a point we need discuss," the squire said, with a +cynical smile. "The man who attempts to defy the law soon discovers +which is the stronger." And with a wave of the hand, he turned on his +heel and strode away.</p> + +<p>David stood still and stared after him, and after a few moments Ralph +stole up to his side.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ralph, my boy," David said at length, with a little shake in his +voice, "he's done his worst."</p> + +<p>"It's only what I expected," Ralph answered. "Now, we've got to do our +best."</p> + +<p>David shook his head.</p> + +<p>"There's no more best in this world for me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, father. Wherever we go we shan't work harder than we've +done on the farm."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but here I've worked for myself. I've been my own master, with no +one to hector me. And I've loved the place and I've loved the work. And +I've put so much of my life into it that it seems like part of myself. +Boy, it will break my heart!" And the tears welled suddenly up into his +eyes and rolled down his cheeks.</p> + +<p>Ralph did not reply. He felt that he had no word of comfort to offer. +None of them as yet felt the full weight of the blow. They would only +realise how much they had lost when they had to wander forth to a +strange place, and see strangers occupying the home they loved.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>CONFLICTING EMOTIONS</h3> + + +<p>Two days later Sir John's agent came across to Hillside Farm, and made a +careful inspection of the premises, after which he made out a list of +repairs that needed doing, and handed it to David.</p> + +<p>"What is this?" David asked, taking the paper without looking at it.</p> + +<p>"It is a list of repairs that you will have to execute before leaving +the place."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" And David deliberately tore the paper in half, then threw +the pieces on the ground and stamped upon them.</p> + +<p>"That's foolish," the agent said, "for you'll have to do the repairs +whether you like it or no."</p> + +<p>"I never will," David answered vehemently. And he turned on his heel and +walked away.</p> + +<p>In the end, the agent got the repairs done himself, and distrained upon +David's goods for the amount.</p> + +<p>By Michaelmas Day David was ready to take his departure. Since his +interview with the squire he had never been seen to smile. He made no +complaint to anyone, neither did he sit in idleness and mope. There was +a good deal to be done before the final scene, and he did his full share +of it. The corn was threshed and sold. The cattle were disposed of at +Summercourt Fair. The root crops and hay were taken at a valuation by +the incoming tenant. The farm implements were disposed of at a public +auction, and when all the accounts had been squared, and the mortgage +cleared off, and the ground rent paid, David found himself in possession +of his household furniture and thirty pounds in hard cash.</p> + +<p>David's neighbours sympathised with him greatly, but none of them gave +any more for what they bought than they could help. They admitted that +things went dirt cheap, that the cattle and implements were sold for a +great deal less than their real value; but that was inevitable in a +forced sale. When the seller was compelled to sell, and there was no +reserve, and the buyers were not compelled to buy, and there was very +little competition, the seller was bound to get the worst of it.</p> + +<p>David looked sadly at the little heap of sovereigns—all that was left +out of the savings of a lifetime. He had spent a thousand pounds on the +farm, and, in addition, had put in twelve years of the hardest work of +his life, and this was all that was left. What he thought no one knew, +not even his wife, for he kept his thoughts and his feelings to himself.</p> + +<p>The day before their departure, David took Ralph for a walk to the +extreme end of the farm.</p> + +<p>"I have something to tell you, my boy, and something to show you."</p> + +<p>Ralph wondered what there was to see that he had not already seen, but +he asked no questions.</p> + +<p>"You may remember, Ralph," David said, when they had got some distance +from the house, "that I told you once that I had discovered a tin lode +running across the farm?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember well," Ralph answered, looking up with an interested +light in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I want to show it to you, my boy."</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the use?" Ralph questioned, after a momentary pause. "If it +were a reef of gold it would be of no value to us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that seems true enough now," David answered sadly, "but there's no +knowing what may happen in the future."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how we can ever benefit by it, whatever may happen."</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking of myself, Ralph. My day's work is nearly over. But +new conditions may arise, new discoveries may be made, and if you know, +you may be able to sell your knowledge for something."</p> + +<p>Ralph shook his head dubiously, and for several minutes they tramped +along side by side in silence.</p> + +<p>Then David spoke again.</p> + +<p>"It is farewell to-day, my boy. We shall toil in these fields no more."</p> + +<p>"That fact by itself does not trouble me," Ralph said.</p> + +<p>"You do not like farming," his father answered. "You never did; and +sometimes I have felt sorry to keep you here, and yet I could not spare +you. You have done the work of two, and you have done it for your bare +keep."</p> + +<p>"I have done it for the squire," Ralph answered, with a cynical laugh.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, it is over now, my boy, and we know the worst. In a few years +nothing will matter, for we shall all be asleep."</p> + +<p>Ralph glanced suddenly at his father, but quickly withdrew his eyes. +There was a look upon his face that hurt him—a look as of some hunted +creature that was appealing piteously for life.</p> + +<p>For weeks past Ralph had wished that his father would get angry. If he +would only storm and rave at fortune generally, and at the squire in +particular, he believed that it would do him good. Such calm and quiet +resignation did not seem natural or healthy. Ralph sometimes wondered if +what his father predicted had come true—that the loss had broken his +heart.</p> + +<p>They reached the outer edge of the farm at length, and David paused in +the shadow of a tree.</p> + +<p>"Come here, my boy," he said. And Ralph went and stood by his side. "You +see the parlour chimney?" David questioned.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, now draw a straight line from this tree to the parlour chimney, +and what do you strike?"</p> + +<p>"Well, nothing except a gatepost over there in Stone Close."</p> + +<p>"That's just it. It was while I was digging a pit to sink that post in +that I struck the back of the lode."</p> + +<p>"And you say it's rich in tin?"</p> + +<p>"Very. It intersects the big Helvin lode at that point, and the junction +makes for wealth. There'll be a fortune made out of this little farm +some day—not out of what grows on the surface, but out of what is dug +up from underground."</p> + +<p>"And in which direction does the lode run?"</p> + +<p>"Due east and west. We are standing on it now, and it passes under the +house."</p> + +<p>"Then it passes under Peter Ladock's farm also?" Ralph questioned. And +he turned and looked over the boundary hedge across their neighbour's +farm.</p> + +<p>"Ay; but the lode's no use out there," David said.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, 'tisn't mineral-bearing strata, that's all. I dug a pit +just where you are standing, and came upon the lode two feet below the +surface. But there's no tin in it here scarcely. It's the same lode that +the spring comes out of down in the delf, and I've sampled it there. But +all along that high ridge where it cuts through the Helvin it's richer +than anything I know in this part of the county."</p> + +<p>"But the tin might give out as you sink."</p> + +<p>"It might, but it would be something unheard of, if it did. If I know +anything about mining—and I think I know a bit—that lode will be +twenty per cent. richer a hundred fathoms down than it is at the +surface."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well!" Ralph said, with a sigh, "rich or poor, it can make no +difference to us."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not—perhaps not," David said wistfully. "But it may be +valuable to somebody some day. I have passed the secret to you. Some day +you may pass it on to another. The future is with God," and he drew a +long breath, and turned his face toward home, which in a few hours would +be his home no more.</p> + +<p>Ralph turned his face in another direction.</p> + +<p>"I think I will go on to St. Goram," he said, "and see how they are +getting on with the cottage. You see we have to move into it to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"As you will," David answered, and he strode away across the stubble.</p> + +<p>Ralph struck across the fields into Dingley Bottom, and then up the +gentle slant toward Treliskey Plantation. When he reached the stile he +rested for several minutes, and recalled the meeting and conversation +between Dorothy Hamblyn and himself. How long ago it seemed, and how +much had happened since then.</p> + +<p>Though he loathed the very name of Hamblyn, he was, nevertheless, +thankful that the squire's daughter was getting slowly better. She had +been seen once or twice in St. Goram in a bath-chair, drawn by a donkey. +"Looking very pale and so much older," the villagers said.</p> + +<p>By all the rules of logic and common sense, Ralph felt that he ought not +only to hate the squire, but everybody belonging to him. Sir John was +the tyrant of the parish, the oppressor of the poor, the obstructor of +everything that was for the good of the people, and no doubt his +daughter had inherited his temper and disposition; while as for the son, +people said that he gave promise of being worse than his father.</p> + +<p>But for some reason Ralph was never able to work up any angry feeling +against Dorothy. He hardly knew why. She had given evidence of being as +imperious and dictatorial as any autocrat could desire. She had spoken +to him as if he were her stable boy.</p> + +<p>And yet——</p> + +<p>He recalled how he had rested her fair head upon his lap, how he had +carried her in his arms and felt her heart beating feebly against his, +how he had given her to drink down in the hollow, and when he lifted her +up again she clasped her arms feebly about his neck, and he felt her +cheek almost close to his.</p> + +<p>It is true he did not know then that she was the squire's daughter, and +so he let his sympathies go out to her unawares. But the curious thing +was he had not been able to recall his sympathy, though he had +discovered directly after that she was the daughter of the man he hated +above all others.</p> + +<p>As he made his way across the broad and billowy common towards the high +road, he found himself wondering what Lord Probus was like. By all the +laws and considerations of self-interest, he ought to have been +wondering how he and his father were to earn their living—for, as yet, +that was a problem that neither of them had solved. But for a moment it +was a relief to forget the sorrowful side of life, and think of +something else. And, as he had carried Dorothy Hamblyn in his arms every +step of the way down the high road, it was the most natural thing in the +world that his thoughts should turn in her direction, and from her to +the man she had promised to marry.</p> + +<p>For some reason or other he felt a little thrill of satisfaction that +the wedding had not taken place, and that there was no prospect of its +taking place for several months to come.</p> + +<p>Not that it could possibly make any difference to him; only he did not +see why the rich and strong should always have their heart's desire, +while others, who had as much right to live as they had, were cheated +all along the line.</p> + +<p>Who Lord Probus was Ralph had not the slightest idea. He was a +comparatively new importation. He had bought Rostrevor Castle from the +Penwarricks, who had fallen upon evil times, and had restored it at +great expense. But beyond that Ralph knew nothing.</p> + +<p>That he was a young man Ralph took for granted. An elderly bachelor +would not want to marry, and a young girl like Dorothy Hamblyn would +never dream of marrying an elderly man.</p> + +<p>To Ralph Penlogan it seemed almost a sin that a mere child, as Dorothy +seemed to be, should think of marriage at all. But since she was going +to get married, it was perfectly natural to assume that she was going to +marry a young man.</p> + +<p>He reached the high road at length, and then hurried forward with long +strides in the direction of St. Goram.</p> + +<p>The cottage they had taken was at the extreme end of the village, and, +curiously enough, was in the neighbouring parish of St. Ivel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>PREPARING TO GO</h3> + + +<p>Almost close to St. Goram were the lodge gates of Hamblyn Manor. The +manor itself was at the end of a long and winding avenue, and behind a +wide belt of trees. As Ralph reached the lodge gates he walked a little +more slowly, then paused for a moment and looked at the lodge with its +quaint gables, its thatched roof and overhanging eaves. Beyond the gates +the broad avenue looked very majestic and magnificently rich in colour. +The yellow leaves were only just beginning to fall, while the evergreens +looked all the greener by contrast with the reds and browns.</p> + +<p>He turned away at length, and came suddenly face to face with "the +squire's little maid." She was seated in her rubber-tyred bath-chair, +which was drawn by a white donkey. By the side of the donkey walked a +boy in buttons. Ralph almost gasped. So great a change in so short a +time he had never witnessed before. Only eight or nine weeks had passed +since the accident, and yet they seemed to have added years to her life. +She was only a girl when he carried her from Treliskey Plantation down +to the high road. Now she was a woman with deep, pathetic eyes, and +cheeks hollowed with pain.</p> + +<p>Ralph felt the colour mount to his face in a moment, and his heart +stabbed him with a sudden poignancy of regret. He wished again, as he +had wished many times during the last two months, that he had pocketed +his pride and opened the gate. It might be quite true that she had no +right to speak to him as she did, quite true also that it was the most +natural and human thing in the world to resent being spoken to as though +he were a serf. Nevertheless, the heroic thing—the divine thing—would +have been to return good for evil, and meet arrogance with generosity.</p> + +<p>He would have passed on without presuming to recognise her, but she +would not let him.</p> + +<p>"Stop, James," she called to the boy; and then she smiled on Ralph ever +so sweetly, and held out her hand.</p> + +<p>For a moment a hot wave of humiliation swept over him from head to foot. +He seemed to realise for the first time in his life what was meant by +heaping coals of fire on one's head. He had the whole contents of a +burning fiery furnace thrown over him. He was being scorched through +every fibre of his being.</p> + +<p>At first he almost resented the humiliation. Then another feeling took +possession of him, a feeling of admiration, almost of reverence. Here +was nobleness such as he himself had failed to reach. Here was one high +in the social scale, and higher still in grace and goodness, +condescending to him, who had indirectly been the cause of all her +suffering. Then in a moment his mood changed again to resentment. This +was the daughter of the man who had broken his father's heart. But a +moment ago he had looked into his father's hopeless, suffering eyes, and +felt as though it would be the sweetest drop of his life if he could +make John Hamblyn and all his tribe suffer as he had made them suffer.</p> + +<p>But even as he reached out his hard brown hand to take the pale and +wasted one that was extended to him, the pendulum swung back once more; +the better and nobler feeling came back. The large sad eyes that looked +up into his had in them no flash of pride or arrogance. The smile that +played over her wan, pale face seemed as richly benevolent as the +sunshine of God. Possibly she knew nothing of the calamity that had +overtaken him and his, a calamity that her father might have so +wonderfully lightened, and at scarcely any cost to himself, had he been +so disposed. But it was not his place to blame the child for what her +father had done or left undone.</p> + +<p>The soft, thin fingers were enveloped in his big strong palm, and then +his eyes filled. A lump came up into his throat and prevented him from +speaking. Never in all his life before had he seemed so little master of +himself.</p> + +<p>Then a low, sweet voice broke the silence, and all his self-possession +came back to him.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad I have met you."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to thank you for saving my life."</p> + +<p>He dropped his eyes slowly, and a hot wave swept over him from head to +foot.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Barrow says if you had not found me when you did I should have +died." And she looked at him as if expecting an answer. But he did not +reply or even raise his head.</p> + +<p>"And you carried me such a long distance, too," she went on, after a +pause; "and I heard Dr. Barrow tell the nurse that you bound up my head +splendidly."</p> + +<p>"You were not much to carry," he said, raising his head suddenly. +"But—but you are less now." And his voice sank almost to a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I have grown very thin," she said, with a wan smile. "But the doctor +says I shall get all right again with time and patience."</p> + +<p>"I hoped you would have got well much sooner," he said, looking timidly +into her face. "I have suffered a good deal during your illness."</p> + +<p>"You?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because if I had not been surly and boorish, the accident would not +have happened. If you had died, I should never have forgiven myself."</p> + +<p>"No, no; it was not your fault at all," she said quickly. "I have +thought a good deal about it while I have been ill, and I have learnt +some things that I might never have learnt any other way, and I see now +that—that——" And she dropped her eyes to hide the moisture that had +suddenly gathered. "I see now that it was very wrong of me to speak to +you as I did."</p> + +<p>"You were reared to command," he said, ready in a moment to champion her +cause, "and I ought to have considered that. Besides, it isn't a man's +place to be rude to a girl—I beg your pardon, miss, I mean to a——"</p> + +<p>"No, no," she interrupted, with a laugh; "don't alter the word, please. +If I feel almost an old woman now, I was only a girl then. How much we +may live in a few weeks! Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"You have found that out, have you?" he questioned. And a troubled look +came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You see, lying in bed, day after day and week after week, gives one +time to think——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" he questioned, after a brief pause.</p> + +<p>She did not reply for several seconds; then she went on as if there had +been no break. "I don't think I ever thought seriously about anything +before I was ill. I took everything as it came, and as most things were +good, I just enjoyed myself, and there seemed nothing else in the world +but just to enjoy one's self——"</p> + +<p>"There's not much enjoyment for most people," he said, seeing she +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I don't think enjoyment ought to be the end of life," she replied +seriously. Then, suddenly raising her eyes, she said—</p> + +<p>"Do you ever get perplexed about the future?"</p> + +<p>"I never get anything else," he stammered. "I'm all at sea this very +moment."</p> + +<p>"You? Tell me about it," she said eagerly.</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders, and looked along the road toward the village. +Should he tell her? Should he open her eyes to the doings of her own +father? Should he point out some of the oppressive conditions under +which the poor lived?</p> + +<p>For a moment or two there was silence. He felt that her eyes were fixed +intently on his face, that she was waiting for him to speak.</p> + +<p>"I suppose your father has never told you that we have lost our little +farm?" he questioned abruptly, turning his head and looking hard at her +at the same time.</p> + +<p>"No. How have you lost it? I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"Well, it was this way." And he went on to explain the nature of the +tenure on which his father leased his farm, but he was careful to avoid +any mention of her father's name.</p> + +<p>"And you say that in twelve years all the three 'lives' have died?"</p> + +<p>"That is unfortunately the case."</p> + +<p>"And you have no longer any right to the house you built, nor to the +fields you reclaimed from the downs?"</p> + +<p>"That is so."</p> + +<p>"And the lord of the manor has taken possession?"</p> + +<p>"He has let it to another man, who takes possession the day after +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And the lord of the manor puts the rent into his own pocket?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And your father has to go out into the world and start afresh?"</p> + +<p>"We leave Hillside to-morrow. I'm going to St. Goram now, to see if the +little cottage is ready. After to-morrow father starts life afresh, in +his old age, having lost everything."</p> + +<p>"But wasn't your father very foolish to risk his all on such a chance? +Life is always such an uncertain thing."</p> + +<p>"I think he was very foolish; and he thinks so now. But at the time he +was very hopeful. He thought the cost of bringing the land under +cultivation would be much less than it has proved to be. He hoped, too, +that the crops would be much heavier. Then, you see, he was born in the +parish, and he wanted to end his days in it—in a little home of his +own."</p> + +<p>"It seems very hard," she said, with a distant look in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's terribly hard," he answered; "and made all the harder by the +landlord letting the farm over father's head."</p> + +<p>"He could have let you remain?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he could, if he had been disposed to be generous, or even +just."</p> + +<p>"I've often heard that Lord St. Goram is a very hard man."</p> + +<p>He started, and looked at her with a questioning light in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"He needn't have claimed all his pound of flesh," she went on. "Law +isn't everything. Nobody would have expected that all three 'lives' +would have died in a dozen years."</p> + +<p>"I believe the law of average works out to about forty-seven years," he +said.</p> + +<p>"In which case your father ought to have his farm another thirty-five +years."</p> + +<p>"He ought. In fact, no lease ought to be less than ninety-nine years. +However, the chances of life have gone against father, and so we must +submit."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand any man exacting all his rights in such a case," she +said sympathetically. "If only people would do to others as they would +be done unto, how much happier the world would be!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, if that were the case," he said, with a smile, "soldiers and +policemen and lawyers would find all their occupations gone."</p> + +<p>"But, all the same, what's religion worth if we don't try to put it into +practice? The lord of the manor has, no doubt, the law on his side. He +can legally claim his pound of flesh, but there's no justice in it."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me the strong do not often know what justice means," he +said, with an icy tone in his voice.</p> + +<p>"No; don't say that," she replied, looking at him reproachfully. "I +think most people are really kind and good, and would like to help +people if they only knew how."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid most people think only of themselves," he answered.</p> + +<p>"No, no; I'm sure——" Then she paused suddenly, while a look of +distress or of annoyance swept over her face. "Why, here comes Lord +Probus," she said, in a lower tone of voice, while the hot blood flamed +up into her pale cheeks in a moment.</p> + +<p>Ralph turned quickly round and looked towards the park gates.</p> + +<p>"Is that Lord Probus?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Good——" But he did not finish the sentence. She looked up into his +face, and saw that it was dark with anger or disgust. Then she glanced +again at the approaching figure of her affianced husband, then back +again to the tall, handsome youth who stood by her side, and for a +moment she involuntarily contrasted the two men. The lord and the +commoner; the rich brewer and the poor, ejected tenant.</p> + +<p>"Please pardon me for detaining you so long," he said hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"You have not detained me at all," she replied. "It has been a pleasure +to talk to you, for the days are very long and very dull."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will soon be as well as ever," he answered; and he turned +quickly on his heel and strode away.</p> + +<p>"And I hope your father will soon——" But the end of the sentence did +not reach his ears. For the moment he was not concerned about himself. +The tragedy of his own life seemed of small account. It was the tragedy +of her life that troubled him. It seemed a wicked thing that this +fragile girl—not yet out of her teens—should marry a man old enough +almost to be her grandfather.</p> + +<p>What lay behind it, he wondered? What influences had been brought to +bear upon her to win her consent? Was she going of her own free will +into this alliance, or had she been tricked or coerced?</p> + +<p>He recalled again the picture of her when she sat on her horse in the +glow of the summer sunshine. She was only a girl then—a heedless, +thoughtless, happy girl, who did not know what life meant, and who in +all probability had never given five minutes' serious thought to its +duties and responsibilities. But eight or nine weeks of suffering had +wrought a great change in her. She was a woman now, facing life +seriously and thoughtfully. Did she regret, he wondered, the promise she +had made? Was she still willing to be the wife of this old man?</p> + +<p>Ralph felt the blood tingling to his finger-tips. It was no business of +his. What did it matter to him what Sir John Hamblyn or any of his tribe +did, or neglected to do? If Dorothy Hamblyn chose to marry a Chinaman or +a Hindoo, that was no concern of his. He had no interest in her, and +never would have.</p> + +<p>He pulled himself up again at that point. He had no interest in her, it +was true, and yet he was interested—more interested than in any other +girl he had ever seen. So interested, in fact, that nothing could happen +to her without it affecting him.</p> + +<p>He reached the cottage at length at the far end of the village. It was +but a tiny crib, but it was the best they could get at so short a +notice, and they would not have got that if Sir John Hamblyn could have +had his way.</p> + +<p>Ralph could hardly repress a groan when he stepped over the threshold. +It was so painfully small after their roomy house at Hillside. The +whitewashers and paperhangers had just finished, and were gathering up +their tools, and a couple of charwomen were scouring the floors.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later there was a patter on the uncarpeted stairs, and +Ruth appeared, with red eyes and dishevelled hair.</p> + +<p>"There seems nothing that I can do," he said, without appearing to +notice that she had been crying.</p> + +<p>"Not to-day," she answered, looking past him; "but there will be plenty +for you to do to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Half an hour later they walked away together toward Hillside Farm, but +neither was in the mood for conversation. Ralph looked up the drive +towards Hamblyn Manor as they passed the park gates, but no one was +about, and the name of Hamblyn was not mentioned.</p> + +<p>During the rest of the day all the Penlogans were kept busy getting +things ready for the carts on the morrow. To any bystander it would have +been a pathetic sight to see how each one tried to keep his or her +trouble from the rest, and even to wear a cheerful countenance.</p> + +<p>Neither talked of the past, nor uttered any word of regret, but they +planned where this piece of furniture should be placed in the new house, +and where that, and speculated as to how the wardrobe should be got up +the narrow stairs, and in which room the big chest of drawers should be +placed.</p> + +<p>David seemed the least interested of the family. He sat for the most +part like one dazed, and watched the others in a vague, unseeing way. +Ruth and her mother bustled about the house, pretending to do a dozen +things, and talked all the while about the fittings and curtains and +pictures.</p> + +<p>When evening came on, and there was no longer any room for pretence, +they sat together in the parlour before a fire of logs, for the air was +chilly, and the wind had risen considerably. No one attempted to break +the silence, but each one knew what the others were thinking about. The +wind rumbled in the chimney and whispered through the chinks of the +window, but no one heeded it.</p> + +<p>This was to be their last evening together in the old home, which they +had learned to love so much, and the pathos of the situation was too +deep for words. They were silent, and apparently calm, not because they +were resigned, but because they were helpless. They had schooled +themselves not to resignation, but to endurance. They could be silent, +but they could never approve. The loathing they felt for John Hamblyn +grew hour by hour. They could have seen him gibbeted with a sense of +infinite satisfaction.</p> + +<p>The day faded quickly in the west, and the firelight alone illumined the +room. Ralph, from his corner by the chimney-breast, could see the faces +of all the others. Ruth looked sweeter and almost prettier than he had +ever seen her. The chastening hand of sorrow had softened the look in +her dark-brown eyes and touched with melancholy the curves of her rich, +full lips. His mother had aged rapidly. She looked ten years older than +she did ten weeks ago. Trouble had ploughed its furrows deep, and all +the light of hope had gone out of her eyes. But his father was the most +pathetic figure of all. Ralph looked across at him every now and then, +and wondered if he would ever rouse himself again. He looked so worn, so +feeble, so despairing, it would have been a relief to see him get angry.</p> + +<p>Ruth had got up at length and lighted the lamp and drew the blind; then, +without a word, sat down again. The wind continued to rumble in the +chimney and sough in the trees outside; but, save for that, no sound +broke the silence. There were no sheep in the pens, no cows in the +shippen, no horses in the stable, and no neighbour came in to say +good-bye.</p> + +<p>The evening wore away until it grew late. Then David rose and got the +family Bible and laid it on the table, so that the light of the lamp +fell upon its pages.</p> + +<p>Drawing up his chair, he sat down and began to read—</p> + +<p>"'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.'"</p> + +<p>His voice did not falter in the least. Quietly, and without emphasis, he +read the psalm through to the end; then he knelt on the floor, with his +hands on the chair, the others following his example. His prayer was +very simple that night. He made no direct allusion to the great trouble +that was eating at all their hearts. He gave thanks for the mercies of +the day, and asked for strength to meet the future.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dears," he said, as he rose from his knees, "we had better get +off to bed." And he smiled with great sweetness, and Ruth recalled +afterwards how he kissed her several times.</p> + +<p>But if he had any premonition of what was coming, he did not betray it +by a single word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>RALPH SPEAKS HIS MIND</h3> + + +<p>It was toward the dawn when Ralph was roused out of a deep sleep by a +violent knocking at his bedroom door.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he called, springing up in bed and staring into the +semi-darkness.</p> + +<p>"Come quickly; your father is very ill!" It was his mother who spoke, +and her voice was vibrant and anxious.</p> + +<p>He sprang out of bed at once, and hurriedly got into his clothes. In a +few moments he was by his father's bedside.</p> + +<p>At first he thought that his mother had alarmed herself and him +unnecessarily. David lay on his side as if asleep.</p> + +<p>"I cannot rouse him," she said in gasps. "I've tried every way, but he +doesn't move."</p> + +<p>Ralph laid his hand on his father's shoulder and shook him, but there +was no response of any kind.</p> + +<p>"He must be dead," his mother said.</p> + +<p>"No, no. He breathes quite regularly," Ralph answered, and he took the +candle and held it where the light fell full on his father's eyelids. +For a moment there was a slight tremor, then his eyes slowly opened, and +a look of infinite appeal seemed to dart out of them.</p> + +<p>"He has had a stroke," Ralph answered, starting back. "He is paralysed. +Call Ruth, and I will go for the doctor at once."</p> + +<p>Twenty-four hours later David was sufficiently recovered to scrawl on a +piece of paper with a black lead pencil the words—</p> + +<p>"I shall die at home. Praise the Lord!"</p> + +<p>He watched intently the faces of his wife and children as they read the +words, and a smile played over his own. It seemed to be a smile of +triumph. He was not going to live in the cottage after all. He was going +to end his days where he had always hoped to do, and no one could cheat +him out of that victory.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat down by the bedside and took his father's hand. The affection +between the two was very tender. They had been more than father and son, +they had been friends and comrades. Ruth and her mother ran out of the +room to hide their tears. They did not want to distress the dying man by +obtruding their grief.</p> + +<p>For several minutes Ralph was unable to speak. David never took his eyes +from his face. He seemed waiting for some assurance that his message was +understood.</p> + +<p>"We understand, father," Ralph said at length. "No one can turn you out +now."</p> + +<p>David smiled again. Then the tears filled his eyes and rolled down his +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You always wanted to end your days here," Ralph went on, "and it looks +as if you were going to do it."</p> + +<p>David raised the hand that was not paralysed and pointed upward.</p> + +<p>"There are no leasehold systems there, at any rate," Ralph said, with a +gulp. "The earth is the landlord's, but heaven is God's."</p> + +<p>David smiled again, and then closed his eyes. Three hours later a second +stroke supervened, and stilled his heart for ever.</p> + +<p>Ralph walked slowly out of the room and into the open air. He felt +thankful for many reasons that his father was at rest. And yet, in his +heart the feeling grew that John Hamblyn had killed him, and there +surged up within him an intense and burning passion to make John Hamblyn +suffer something of what he himself was suffering. Why should he go scot +free? Why should he live unrebuked, and his conscience be left +undisturbed?</p> + +<p>For a moment or two Ralph stood in the garden and looked up at the +clouds that were scudding swiftly across the sky. Then he flung open the +gate and struck out across the fields. The wind battered and buffeted +him and almost took his breath away, but it did not weaken his resolve +for a moment. He would go and tell John Hamblyn what he had done—tell +him to his face that he had killed his father; ay, and tell him that as +surely as there was justice in the world he would not go unpunished.</p> + +<p>Over the brow of the hill he turned, and down into Dingley Bottom, and +then up the long slant toward Treliskey Plantation. He scarcely heeded +the wind that was blowing half a gale, and appeared to be increasing in +violence every minute.</p> + +<p>The gate that Dorothy's horse had broken had been mended long since, and +the notice board repainted:</p> + +<p>"Trespassers will be Prosecuted."</p> + +<p>He gritted his teeth unconsciously as the white letters stared him in +the face. He had heard his father tell that from time immemorial here +had been a public thoroughfare, till Sir John took the law into his own +hands, and flung a gate across it and warned the public off with a +threat of prosecution.</p> + +<p>But what cared he about the threat? John Hamblyn could prosecute him if +he liked. He was going to tell him what he thought of him, and he was +going the nearest way.</p> + +<p>He vaulted lightly over the gate, and hurried along without a pause. In +the shadow of the trees he scarcely felt the violence of the wind, but +he heard it roaring in the branches above him, like the sound of an +incoming tide.</p> + +<p>He reached the manor, and pulled violently at the door bell.</p> + +<p>"Is your master at home?" he said to the boy in buttons who opened the +door.</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"Then tell him I want to see him at once," he went on hurriedly, and he +followed the boy into the hall.</p> + +<p>A moment later he was standing before Sir John in his library.</p> + +<p>The baronet looked at him with a scowl. He disliked him intensely, and +had never forgiven him for being the cause—as he believed—of his +daughter's accident. Moreover, he had no proper respect for his betters, +and withal possessed a biting tongue.</p> + +<p>"Well, young man, what brought you here?" he said scornfully.</p> + +<p>"I came on foot," was the reply, and Ralph threw as much scorn into his +voice as the squire had done.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no doubt—no doubt!" the squire said, bridling. "But I have no time +to waste in listening to impertinences. What is your business?"</p> + +<p>"I came to tell you that my father is dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" Sir John gasped. "No, surely? I never heard he was ill!"</p> + +<p>"He was taken with a stroke early yesterday morning, and he died an hour +ago."</p> + +<p>"Only an hour ago? Dear me!"</p> + +<p>"I came straight away from his deathbed to let you know that you had +killed him."</p> + +<p>"That I had killed him!" Sir John exclaimed, with a gasp.</p> + +<p>"You might have seen it in his face, when you told him that you had let +the farm over his head, and that he was to be turned out of the little +home he had built with his own hands."</p> + +<p>"I gave him fair notice, more than he could legally claim," Sir John +said, looking very white and distressed.</p> + +<p>"I am not talking about the law," Ralph said hurriedly. "If you had +behaved like a Christian, my father would have been alive to-day. But +the blow you struck him killed him. He never smiled again till this +morning, when he knew he was dying. I am glad he is gone. But as surely +as you punished us, God will punish you."</p> + +<p>"What, threatening, young man?" Sir John replied, stepping back and +clenching his fists.</p> + +<p>"No, I am not threatening," Ralph said quietly. "But as surely as you +stand there, and I stand here, some day we shall be quits," and he +turned on his heel and walked out of the room.</p> + +<p>Outside the wind was roaring like an angry lion and snapping tree +branches like matchwood. A little distance from the house he met a +gardener, who told him there was no road through the plantation. But +Ralph only smiled at him and walked on.</p> + +<p>He was feeling considerably calmer since his interview with Sir John. It +had been a relief to him to fling off what was on his mind. He was +conscious that his heart was less bitter and revengeful. He only thought +once of Dorothy, and he quickly dismissed her from his mind. He wished +that he could dismiss her so effectually that the thought of her would +never come back. It was something of a humiliation that constantly, and +in the most unexpected ways, her face came up before him, and her sweet, +winning eyes looked pleadingly and sometimes reproachfully into his.</p> + +<p>But he was master of himself to-day. At any rate he was so far master of +himself that no thought of the squire's "little maid" could soften his +heart toward the squire. He hurried back home at the same swinging pace +as he came. It was a house of mourning to which he journeyed, but his +mother and Ruth would need him. He was the only one now upon whom they +could lean, and he would have to play the man, and make the burden for +them as light as possible.</p> + +<p>He scarcely heeded the wind. His thoughts were too full of other things. +In the heart of the plantation the branches were still snapping as the +trees bent before the fury of the gale. He rather liked the sound. +Nature was in an angry mood, and it accorded well with his own temper. +It would have been out of place if the wind had slept on the day his +father died.</p> + +<p>He was hardly able to realise yet that his father was dead. It seemed +too big and too overwhelming a fact to be comprehended all at once. It +seemed impossible that that gentle presence had gone from him for ever. +He wondered why he did not weep. Surely no son ever loved a father more +than he did, and yet no tear had dimmed his eyes as yet, no sob had +gathered in his throat.</p> + +<p>Over his head the branch of a tree flew past that had been ripped by the +gale from its moorings.</p> + +<p>"Hallo," he said, with a smile. "This is getting serious," and he turned +into the middle of the road and hurried on again.</p> + +<p>A moment or two later a sudden blow on the head struck him to the earth. +For several seconds he lay perfectly still just where he fell. Then a +sharp spasm of pain caused him to sit up and stare about him with a +bewildered expression in his eyes. What had happened he did not know. He +raised his right hand to his head almost mechanically—for the seat of +the pain was there—then drew it slowly away and looked at it. It was +dyed red and dripping wet.</p> + +<p>He struggled to his feet after a few moments, and tried to walk. It was +largely an unconscious effort, for he did not know where he was, or +where he wanted to go to; and when he fell again and struck the hard +ground with his face, he was scarcely aware that he had fallen.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes he was on his feet again, but the world was dark by +this time. Something had come up before his eyes and shut out +everything. A noise was in his ears, but it was not the roaring of the +wind in the trees; he reeled and stumbled heavily with his head against +a bank of heather. Then the noise grew still, and the pain vanished, and +there was a sound in his ears like the ringing of St. Goram bells, which +grew fainter till oblivion wrapped him in its folds.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>UNCONSCIOUS SPEECH</h3> + + +<p>Ralph had scarcely left the house when Dorothy sought her father in the +library. He was walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, and a +troubled expression in his eyes. He was much more distressed than he +liked to own even to himself. To be told to his face that he had caused +the death of one of his tenants would, under some circumstances, have +simply made him angry. But in the present case he felt, much more +acutely than was pleasant, that there was only too much reason for the +contention.</p> + +<p>That David Penlogan had loved his little homestead there was no doubt +whatever. He had poured into it not only the savings of a lifetime and +the ungrudging labour of a dozen years, but he had poured into it the +affection of a generous and confiding nature. There was something almost +sentimental in David's affection for his little farm, and to have to +leave it was a heavier blow than he was able to bear. That his +misfortune had killed him seemed not an unreasonable supposition.</p> + +<p>"But I am not responsible for that," Sir John said to himself angrily. +"I had no hand in killing off the 'lives.' That was a decree of +Providence."</p> + +<p>But in spite of his reasoning, he could not shake himself free from an +uneasy feeling that he was in some way responsible.</p> + +<p>Legally, no doubt, he had acted strictly within his rights. He had +exacted no more than in point of law was his due, but might there not be +a higher law than the laws of men? That was the question that troubled +him, and it troubled him for the first time in his life.</p> + +<p>He was a very loyal citizen. He had been taught to regard Acts of +Parliament as something almost as sacred as the Ark of the Covenant, and +the authority of the State as supreme in all matters of human conduct. +Now for the first time a doubt crept into his mind, and it made him feel +decidedly uncomfortable. Man-made laws might, after all, have little or +no moral force behind them. Selfish men might make laws just to protect +their own selfish interests.</p> + +<p>Legally, man's law backed him up in the position he had taken. But where +did God's law come in? He knew his Bible fairly well. He was a regular +church-goer, and followed the lessons Sunday by Sunday with great +diligence. And he felt, with a poignant sense of alarm, that Jesus +Christ would condemn what he had done. There was no glimmer of the +golden rule to be discerned in his conduct. He had not acted generously, +nor even neighbourly. He had extorted the uttermost farthing, not +because he had any moral claim to it, but because laws which men had +made gave him the right.</p> + +<p>He was so excited that his mind worked much more rapidly than was usual +with him. He recalled again Ralph Penlogan's words about God punishing +him and their being quits. He disliked that young man. He ought to have +kicked him out of the house before he had time to utter his insults. But +he had not done so, and somehow his words had stuck. He wished it was +the son who had died instead of the father. David Penlogan, in spite of +his opinions and politics, was a mild and harmless individual; he would +not hurt his greatest enemy if he had the chance. But he was not so sure +of the son. He had a bolder and a fiercer nature, and if he had the +chance he might take the law into his own hands.</p> + +<p>The door opened while these thoughts were passing through his mind, and +his daughter stood before him. He stopped suddenly in his walk, and his +hard face softened.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, I've heard such a dreadful piece of news," she said, "that +I could not help coming to tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Dreadful news, Dorothy?" he questioned, in a tone of alarm.</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems dreadful to me," she went on. "You heard about the +Penlogans being turned out of house and home, of course?"</p> + +<p>"I heard that he had to leave his farm," he said shortly.</p> + +<p>"Well, the trouble has killed him—broken his heart, people say. He had +a stroke yesterday morning, and now he's dead."</p> + +<p>"Well, people must die some day," he said, with averted eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is true. But I think if I were in Lord St. Goram's place I +should feel very unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Why should Lord St. Goram feel unhappy?"</p> + +<p>"Well, because he profited by the poor man's misfortune."</p> + +<p>"What do you know about it?" he snapped almost angrily.</p> + +<p>"Only what Ralph Penlogan told me."</p> + +<p>"What, that young rascal who refused to open the gate for you?"</p> + +<p>"That was just as much my fault as his, and he has apologised very +handsomely since."</p> + +<p>"I am surprised, Dorothy, that you condescend to speak to such people," +he said severely.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should, father. He is well educated, and has been +brought up, as you know, quite respectably."</p> + +<p>"Educated beyond his station. It's a mistake, and will lead to trouble +in the long-run. But what did he say to you?"</p> + +<p>"I met him as he was walking into St. Goram, and he told me how they had +taken a little cottage, and were going to move into it next day—that +was yesterday. Then, of course, all the story came out, how the vicar's +son was the last 'life' on their little farm, and how, when he died, the +farm became the ground landlord's."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say about the ground landlord?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember his words very well, but he seemed most bitter, +because he had let the farm over their heads, without giving them a +chance of being tenants."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I told him I thought it was a very cruel thing to do. Law is not +everything. David Penlogan had put all his savings into the farm, had +reclaimed the fields from the wilderness, and built the house with his +own money, and the lord of the manor had done nothing, and never spent a +penny-piece on it, and yet, because the chances of life had gone against +David, he comes in and takes possession—demands, like Shylock, his +pound of flesh, and actually turns the poor man out of house and home! I +told Ralph Penlogan that it was wicked—at least, if I did not tell him, +I felt it—and, I am sure, father, you must feel the same."</p> + +<p>Sir John laughed a short, hard laugh.</p> + +<p>"What is the use of the law, Dorothy," he said, "unless it is kept? It +is no use getting sentimental because somebody is hanged."</p> + +<p>"But surely, father, our duty to our neighbour is not to get all we can +out of him?"</p> + +<p>"I'm inclined to think that is the general practice, at any rate," he +said, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>She looked at him almost reproachfully for a moment, and then her eyes +fell. He was quick to see the look of pain that swept over her face, and +hastened to reassure her.</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't worry yourself, Dorothy, about these matters," he said, +in gentler tones. "You really shouldn't. You see, we can't help the +world being what it is. Some are rich and some are poor. Some are weak +and some are strong. Some have trouble all the way, and some have a good +time of it from first to last, and nobody's to blame, as far as I know. +If luck's fallen to our lot, we've all the more to be grateful for, +don't you see. But the world's too big for us to mend, and it's no use +trying. Now, run away, that's a good girl, and be happy as long as you +can."</p> + +<p>She drew herself up to her full height, and looked him steadily in the +eyes. She had grown taller during her illness, and there was now a look +upon her face such as he had never noticed before.</p> + +<p>"I do wish, father," she said slowly, "that you would give over treating +me as though I were a child, and had no mind of my own."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" he said sharply. "What's the matter now?"</p> + +<p>"I mean what I say," she answered, in the same slow and measured +fashion. "I may have been a child up to the time of my illness, but I +have learned a lot since then. I feel like one who has awaked out of a +sleep. My illness has given me time to think. I have got into a new +world."</p> + +<p>"Then, my love, get back into the old world again as quickly as +possible. It's not a bit of use your worrying your little head about +matters you cannot help, and which are past mending. It's your business +to enjoy yourself, and do as you are told, and get all the happiness out +of life that you can."</p> + +<p>"There's no getting back, father," she answered seriously. "And there's +no use in pretending that you don't feel, and that you don't see. I +shall never be a little girl again, and perhaps I shall never be happy +again as I used to be; or, perhaps, I may be happy in a better and +larger way—but that is not the point. You must not treat me as a child +any longer, for I am a woman now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense!" he said, in a tone of irritation.</p> + +<p>"Why nonsense?" she asked quickly. "If I am old enough to be married, I +am old enough to be a woman——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not speaking of age," he interjected, in the same irritable +tone. "Of course you are old enough to be married, but you are not old +enough—and I hope you never will be—to worry yourself over other +people's affairs. I want my little flower to be screened from all the +rough winds of the world, and I am sure that is the desire of Lord +Probus."</p> + +<p>"There you go again!" she said, with a sad little smile. "I'm only just +a hothouse plant, to be kept under glass. But that is what I don't want. +I don't want to be treated as though I should crumple up if I were +touched—I want to do my part in the world."</p> + +<p>"Of course, my child, and your part is to look pretty and keep the +frowns away from your forehead, and make other folks happy by being +happy yourself."</p> + +<p>"But really, father, I'm not a doll," she said, with just a touch of +impatience in her voice. "I'm afraid I shall disappoint you, but I +cannot help it. I've lived in dreamland all my life. Now I am awake, and +nothing can ever be exactly the same again as it has been."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I mean more than I can put into words," she said, dropping her eyes +slowly to the floor. "Everything is broken up, if you understand. The +old house is pulled down. The old plans and the old dreams are at an +end. What is going to take their place I don't know. Time alone will +tell." And she turned slowly round and walked out of the room.</p> + +<p>An hour later she got into her bath-chair, and went out for her usual +airing.</p> + +<p>"I think, Billy," she said to her attendant, "we will drive through the +plantation this afternoon. The downs will be too exposed to this wind."</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>"In the plantation it will be quite sheltered—don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Most of the way it will," he answered; "but there ain't half as much +wind as there was an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"An hour ago it was blowing a gale. If it had kept on like that I +shouldn't have thought of going out at all."</p> + +<p>"Which would have been a pity," Billy answered, with a grin, "for the +sun is a-shinin' beautiful."</p> + +<p>Two or three times Billy had to stop the donkey, while he dragged large +branches out of the way. They were almost on the point of turning back +again when Dorothy said—</p> + +<p>"Is that the trunk of a tree, Billy, lying across the road?"</p> + +<p>"Well, miss, I was just a-wonderin' myself what it were. It don't look +like a tree exactly."</p> + +<p>"And yet I cannot imagine what else it can be."</p> + +<p>"Shall we drive on that far and see, miss?"</p> + +<p>"I think we had better, Billy, though I did not intend going quite so +far."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Billy uttered an exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Why, miss, it looks for all the world like a man!"</p> + +<p>"Drive quickly," she said; "I believe somebody's been hurt!"</p> + +<p>It did not take them long to reach the spot where Ralph Penlogan was +lying. Dorothy recognised him in a moment, and forgetting her weakness, +she sprang out of her bath-chair and ran and knelt down by his side.</p> + +<p>He presented a rather ghastly appearance. The extreme pallor of his face +was accentuated by large splotches of blood. His eyelids were partly +open, showing the whites of his eyes. His lips were tightly shut as if +in pain.</p> + +<p>Dorothy wondered at her own calmness and nerve. She had no disposition +to faint or to cry out. She placed her ear close to Ralph's mouth and +remained still for several seconds. Then she sprang quickly to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Unharness the donkey, Billy," she said, in quick, decided tones, "and +ride into St. Goram and fetch Dr. Barrow!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss." And in a few seconds Billy was galloping away as fast as +the donkey could carry him.</p> + +<p>Dorothy watched him until he had passed beyond the gate and was out on +the common. Then she turned her attention again to Ralph. That he was +unconscious was clear, but he was not dead. There were evidences also +that he had scrambled a considerable distance after he was struck.</p> + +<p>For several moments she stood and looked at him, then she sat down by +his side. He gave a groan at length and tried to sit up, and she got +closer to him, and made his head comfortable on her lap.</p> + +<p>After a while he opened his eyes and looked with a bewildered expression +into her face.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he asked abruptly, and he made another effort to sit up.</p> + +<p>"You had better lie still," she said gently. "You have got hurt, and Dr. +Barrow will be here directly."</p> + +<p>"I haven't got hurt," he said, in decided tones, "and I don't want to +lie still. But who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember me?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," he said, in the same decisive way. "You are not Ruth, and +I don't know who you are, nor why you keep me here."</p> + +<p>"I am not keeping you," she answered quietly. "You are unable to walk, +but I have sent for the doctor, and he will bring help."</p> + +<p>For a while he did not speak, but his eyes searched her face with a +puzzled and baffled look.</p> + +<p>"You are very pretty," he said at length. "But you are not Ruth."</p> + +<p>"No; I am Dorothy Hamblyn," she answered.</p> + +<p>He knitted his brows and looked at her intently, then he tried to shake +his head.</p> + +<p>"Hamblyn?" he questioned slowly. "I hate the Hamblyns—I hate the very +name! All except the squire's little maid," and he closed his eyes, and +was silent for several moments. Then he went on again—</p> + +<p>"I wish I could hate the squire's little maid too, but I can't. I've +tried hard, but I can't. She's so pretty, and she's to marry an old man, +old enough to be her grandfather. Oh, it's a shame, for he'll break her +heart. If I were only a rich man I'd steal her."</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush!" she said quickly. "Do you know what you are saying?"</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her again, but there was no +clear light of recognition in them. For several minutes he talked +incessantly on all sorts of subjects, but in the end he got back to the +question that for the moment seemed to dominate all the rest.</p> + +<p>"You can't be the squire's little maid," he said, "for she is going to +marry an old man. Don't you think it is a sin?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush!" she said, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I think it's a sin," he went on. "And if I were rich and strong I +wouldn't allow it. I wish she were poor, and lived in a cottage; then I +would work and work, and wait and hope, and—and——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"We would fight the world together," he said, after a long pause.</p> + +<p>She did not reply, but a mist came up before her eyes and blotted out +the surrounding belt of trees, and the noise of the wind seemed to die +suddenly away into silence, and a new world opened up before her—a land +where springtime always dwelt, and beauty never grew old.</p> + +<p>Ralph lay quite still, with his head upon her lap. He appeared to have +relapsed into unconsciousness again.</p> + +<p>She brushed her hand across her eyes at length and looked at him, and as +she did so her heart fluttered strangely and uncomfortably in her bosom. +A curious spell seemed to be upon her. Her nerves thrilled with an +altogether new sensation. She grew almost frightened, and yet she had no +desire to break the spell; the pleasure infinitely exceeded the pain.</p> + +<p>She felt like one who had strayed unconsciously into forbidden ground, +and yet the landscape was so beautiful, and the fragrance of the flowers +was so sweet, and the air was so soft and cool, and the music of the +birds and the streams was so delicious, that she had neither the courage +nor the inclination to go away.</p> + +<p>She did not try to analyse this new sensation that thrilled her to the +finger-tips. She did not know what it meant, or what it portended.</p> + +<p>She took her pocket-handkerchief at length and began to wipe the +bloodstains from Ralph's face, and while she did so the warm colour +mounted to her own cheeks.</p> + +<p>There was no denying that he was very handsome, and she had already had +proof of his character. She recalled the day when she lay in his strong +arms, with her head upon his shoulder, and he carried her all the way +down to the cross roads. How strange that she should be performing a +similar service for him now! Was some blind, unthinking fate weaving the +threads of their separate lives into the same piece?</p> + +<p>The colour deepened in her cheeks until they grew almost crimson. The +words to which she had just listened from his lips seemed to flash upon +her consciousness with a new meaning, and she found herself wondering +what would happen if she had been only a peasant's child.</p> + +<p>A minute or two later the sound of wheels was heard on the grass-grown +road. Ralph turned his head uneasily, and muttered something under his +breath.</p> + +<p>"Help is near," she whispered. "The doctor is coming."</p> + +<p>He looked up into her eyes wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell the squire's little maid that I love her," he said slowly. +"I've tried to hate her, but I cannot."</p> + +<p>She gave a little gasp, and tried to speak, but a lump rose in her +throat which threatened to choke her.</p> + +<p>"But her father," he went on slowly, "he's a—a——" but he did not +finish the sentence.</p> + +<p>When the doctor reached his side he was quite unconscious again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>DOROTHY SPEAKS HER MIND</h3> + + +<p>Dorothy—to quote her father's words—had taken the bit between her +teeth and bolted. The squire had coaxed her, cajoled her, threatened +her, got angry with her, but all to no purpose. She stood before him +resolute and defiant, vowing that she would sooner die than marry Lord +Probus.</p> + +<p>Sir John was at his wits' end. He saw his brightest hopes dissolving +before his eyes. If Dorothy carried out her threat, and refused to marry +the millionaire brewer, what was to become of him? All his hopes of +extricating himself from his present pecuniary embarrassments were +centred in his lordship. But if Dorothy deliberately broke the +engagement, Lord Probus would see him starve before raising a finger to +help him.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, Lord Probus was in London, and knew nothing of Dorothy's +change of front. He had thought her somewhat cool when he went away, but +that he attributed to her long illness. Warmth of affection would no +doubt return with returning health and strength. Sir John had assured +him that she had not changed towards him in the least.</p> + +<p>Dorothy's illness had been a great disappointment to both men. All +delays were dangerous, and there was always the off-chance that Dorothy +might awake from her girlish day-dream and discover that not only her +feeling toward Lord Probus, but also her views of matrimony, had +undergone an entire change.</p> + +<p>Sir John had received warning of the change on that stormy day when +Ralph Penlogan had visited him to tell him that his father was dead. But +he had put her words out of his mind as quickly as possible. Whatever +else they might mean, he could not bring himself to believe that Dorothy +would deliberately break a sacred and solemn pledge.</p> + +<p>But a few weeks later matters came to a head. It was on Dorothy's return +from a visit to the Penlogans' cottage at St. Goram that the truth came +out.</p> + +<p>Sir John met her crossing the hall with a basket on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been all the afternoon?" he questioned sharply.</p> + +<p>"I have been to see poor Mrs. Penlogan," she said, "who is anything but +well."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me you are very fond of visiting the Penlogans," he said +crossly. "I suppose that lazy son is still hanging on to his mother, +doing nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you ought to say he is lazy," she said, flushing +slightly. "He has been to St. Ivel Mine to-day to try to get work, +though Dr. Barrow says he ought not to think of working for another +month."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Barrow is an old woman in some things," he retorted.</p> + +<p>"I think he is a very clever man," she answered; "and we ought to be +grateful for what he did for me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is quite another matter. But I suppose you found the Penlogans +full of abuse still of the ground landlord?"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not," she answered. "Lord St. Goram's name was never +mentioned."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said shortly, and turned on his heel and walked away.</p> + +<p>"She evidently doesn't know yet that I'm the ground landlord," he +reflected. "I wonder what she will say when she does know? I've half a +mind to tell her myself and face it out. If I thought it would prevent +her going to the Penlogans' cottage, I would tell her, too. Curse them! +They've scored off me by not telling the girl." And he closed the +library door behind him and dropped into an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>He came to the conclusion after a while that he would not tell her. All +things considered, it was better that she should remain in ignorance. In +a few weeks, or months at the outside, he hoped she would be Lady +Probus, and then she would forget all about the Penlogans and their +grievance.</p> + +<p>He took the poker and thrust it into the fire, and sent a cheerful blaze +roaring up the chimney. Then he edged himself back into his easy-chair +and stared at the grate.</p> + +<p>"It's quite time the wedding-day was fixed," he said to himself at +length. "Dorothy is almost as well as ever, and there's no reason +whatever why it should be any longer delayed. I hope she isn't beginning +to think too seriously about the matter. In a case like this, the less +the girl thinks the better."</p> + +<p>The short November day was fading rapidly, but the fire filled the room +with a warm and ruddy light.</p> + +<p>He touched the bell at length, and a moment or two later a servant stood +at the open door.</p> + +<p>"Tell your young mistress when she comes downstairs that I want to see +her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." And the servant departed noiselessly from the room.</p> + +<p>Sir John edged his chair a few inches nearer the fire. He was feeling +very nervous and ill at ease, but he was determined to bring matters to +a head. He knew that Lord Probus was getting impatient, and he was just +as impatient himself. Moreover, delays were often fatal to the best-laid +plans.</p> + +<p>Dorothy came slowly into the room, and with a troubled look in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You wanted to see me, father?" she questioned timidly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I wanted to have a little talk with you. Please sit down." And he +continued to stare at the fire.</p> + +<p>Dorothy seated herself in an easy-chair on the other side of the +fireplace and waited. If he was nervous and ill at ease, she was no less +so. She had a shrewd suspicion of what was coming, and she dreaded the +encounter. Nevertheless, she had fully made up her mind as to the course +she intended to take, and she was no longer a child to be wheedled into +anything.</p> + +<p>Sir John looked up suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking, Dorothy," he said, "that we ought to get the +wedding over before Christmas. You seem almost as well as ever now, and +there is no reason as far as I can see why the postponed ceremony should +be any longer delayed."</p> + +<p>"Are you in such a great hurry to get rid of me?" she questioned, with a +pathetic smile.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I do not want to get rid of you at all. You know the old tag, +'A daughter's a daughter all the days of her life,' and you will be none +the less my child when you are the mistress of Rostrevor Castle."</p> + +<p>"I shall never be the mistress of Rostrevor Castle," she replied, with +downcast eyes.</p> + +<p>"Never be the mistress of—never? What do you mean, Dorothy?" And he +turned hastily round in his chair and stared at her.</p> + +<p>"I was only a child when I promised," she said timidly, "and I did not +know anything. I thought it would be a fine thing to have a title and a +house in town, and everything that my foolish heart could desire, and I +did not understand what marriage to an old man would mean."</p> + +<p>"Lord Probus is anything but an old man," he said hastily. "He is in his +prime yet."</p> + +<p>"But if he were thirty years younger it would be all the same," she +answered quietly. "You see, father, I have discovered that I do not love +him."</p> + +<p>"And you fancy that you love somebody else?" he said, with a sneer.</p> + +<p>"I did not say anything of the kind," she said, raising her eyes +suddenly to his. "But I know I don't love Lord Probus, and I know I +never shall."</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is simple nonsense!" he replied angrily. "You cannot play fast +and loose in this way. You have given your solemn promise to Lord +Probus, and you cannot go back on it."</p> + +<p>"But I <i>can</i> go back on it, and I will!"</p> + +<p>"You mean that you will defy us both, and defy the law into the +bargain?"</p> + +<p>"There is no law to compel me to marry a man against my will," she said, +with spirit.</p> + +<p>"If there is no law to compel you, there's a power that can force you to +keep your promise," he said, with suppressed passion.</p> + +<p>"What power do you refer to?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"The power of my will," he answered. "Do you think I am going to allow a +scandal of this kind to take place?"</p> + +<p>"It would be a greater scandal if I married him," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Dorothy," he said. "We had better look at this matter in the +light of reason and common sense——"</p> + +<p>"That is what I am doing," she interrupted. "I had neither when I gave +my promise to Lord Probus. I was just home from school; I knew nothing +of the world; I had scarcely a serious thought in my head. My illness +has given me time to think and reflect; it has opened my eyes——"</p> + +<p>"And taken away your moral sense," he snarled.</p> + +<p>"No, father, I don't think so at all," she answered mildly. "Feeling as +I do now, it would be wicked to marry Lord Probus."</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet and faced her angrily.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Dorothy," he said. "I am not the man to be thwarted in a +thing of this kind. My reputation is in a sense at stake. You have gone +too far to draw back now. We should be made the laughing-stock of the +entire county. If you had any personal objection to Lord Probus, you +should have discovered it before you promised to marry him. Now that all +arrangements are made for the wedding, it is too late to draw back."</p> + +<p>"No, father, it is not too late; and I am thankful for my illness, +because it has opened my eyes."</p> + +<p>"And all this has come about through that detestable young scoundrel who +refused to open a gate for you."</p> + +<p>In a moment her face flushed crimson, and she turned quickly and walked +out of the room.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, what does this mean?" Sir John said to himself angrily when +the door closed behind her. "What new influences have been at work, I +wonder, or what quixotic or romantic notions has she been getting into +her head? Can it be possible—but no, no, that is too absurd! And yet +things quite as strange have happened. If I find—great Scott, won't we +be quits!" And Sir John paced up and down the room like a caged bear.</p> + +<p>He did not refer to the subject again that day, nor the next. But he +kept his eyes and ears open, and he drew one or two more or less +disquieting conclusions.</p> + +<p>That a change had come over Dorothy was clear. In fact, she was changed +in many ways. She seemed to have passed suddenly from girlhood into +womanhood. But what lay at the back of this change? Was her illness to +bear the entire responsibility, or had other influences been at work? +Was the romantic notion she had got into her mind due to natural +development, or had some youthful face caught her fancy and touched her +heart?</p> + +<p>But during all those long weeks of her illness she had seen no one but +the doctor and vicar and Lord Probus, except—and Sir John gave his +beard an impatient tug.</p> + +<p>By dint of careful inquiry, he got hold of the entire story, not merely +of Dorothy's accident, but of the part she had played in Ralph +Penlogan's accident.</p> + +<p>"Great Scott!" he said to himself, an angry light coming into his eyes. +"If, knowingly or unknowingly, that young scoundrel is at the bottom of +this business, then he can cry quits with a vengeance."</p> + +<p>The more he allowed his mind to dwell on this view of the case, the more +clear it became to him. There was no denying that Ralph Penlogan was +handsome. Moreover, he was well educated and clever. Dorothy, on the +other hand, was in the most romantic period of her life. She had found +him in the plantation badly hurt, and her sympathies would go out to him +in a moment. Under such circumstances, and in her present mood, social +differences would count for nothing. She might lose her heart to him +before she was aware. He, of course, being inherently bad—for Sir John +would not allow that the lower orders, as he termed them, possessed any +sense of honour whatever—would take advantage of her weakness and play +upon the romantic side of her nature to the full, with the result that +she was quite prepared to fling over Lord Probus, or to pose as a +martyr, or to pine for love in a cottage, or do any other idiotic thing +that her silly and sentimental heart might dictate.</p> + +<p>As the days passed away Sir John had very great difficulty in being +civil to his daughter. Also, he kept a strict watch himself on all her +movements, and put a stop to her playing my Lady Bountiful among the +sick poor of St. Goram.</p> + +<p>He hoped in his quieter moments that it was only a passing madness, and +that it would disappear as suddenly as it came. If she could be kept +away from pernicious and disquieting influences for a week or two she +might get back to her normal condition.</p> + +<p>Sir John was debating this view of the question one evening with himself +when the door was flung suddenly open, and Lord Probus stood before him, +looking very perturbed and excited.</p> + +<p>The baronet sprang out of his chair in a moment, and greeted his guest +effusively. "My dear Probus," he said, "I did not know you were in the +county. When did you return?"</p> + +<p>"I came down to-day," was the answer. "I came in response to a letter I +received from your daughter last night. Where is she? I wish to see her +at once."</p> + +<p>"A moment, sir," the baronet said appealingly. "What has she been +writing to you?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know whether I should discuss the matter with you until I have +seen her," was the somewhat chilly answer.</p> + +<p>"She has asked to be released from her engagement," Sir John said +eagerly. "I can see it in your face. The truth is, the child is a bit +unhinged."</p> + +<p>"Then she has spoken to you?" his lordship interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, but I came to the conclusion that it was only a passing +mood. She has not picked up her strength as rapidly as I could have +desired, but, given time, and I have little doubt she will be just the +same as ever. I am sorry she has written to you on the matter."</p> + +<p>"I noticed a change in her before I went away. In fact, she was +decidedly cool."</p> + +<p>"But it will pass, my lord. I am sure it will. We must not hurry her. +Don't take her 'No' as final. Let the matter remain in abeyance for a +month or two. Now I will ring for her and leave you together. But take +my advice and don't let her settle the matter now."</p> + +<p>Sir John met Dorothy in the hall, and intimated that Lord Probus was +waiting for her in the library. She betrayed no surprise whatever. In +fact, she expected he would hurry back on receipt of her letter, and so +was quite ready for the interview.</p> + +<p>They did not remain long together. Lord Probus saw that, for the present +at any rate, her mind was absolutely made up. But he was not prepared, +nevertheless, to relinquish his prize.</p> + +<p>She looked lovelier in his eyes than she had ever done before. He felt +the charm of her budding womanhood. She was no longer a schoolgirl to be +wheedled and influenced by the promise of pretty things. Her eyes had a +new light in them, her manner an added dignity.</p> + +<p>"Be assured," he said to her, in his most chivalrous manner, "that your +happiness is more to me than my own. But we will not regard the matter +as settled yet. Let things remain in abeyance for a month or two."</p> + +<p>"It is better we should understand each other once for all," she said +decisively, "for I am quite sure time will only confirm me in my +resolution."</p> + +<p>"No, no. Don't say that," he pleaded. "Think of all I can give you, of +all that I will do for you, of all the love and care I will lavish upon +you. You owe it to me not to do this thing rashly. Let us wait, say, +till the new year, and then we will talk the matter over again." And he +took her hand and kissed it, and then walked slowly out of the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>GATHERING CLOUDS</h3> + + +<p>The following afternoon Sir John went for a walk in the plantation +alone. He was in a very perturbed and anxious condition of mind. Lord +Probus had taken his advice, and refused to accept Dorothy's "No" as +final; but that by no means settled the matter. He feared that at best +it had only postponed the evil day for a few weeks. What if she +continued in the same frame of mind? What if she had conceived any kind +of romantic attachment for young Penlogan, into whose arms she had been +thrown more than once?</p> + +<p>Of course, Dorothy would never dream of any alliance with a Penlogan. +She was too well bred for that, and had too much regard for the social +order. But all the same, such an attachment would put an end to Lord +Probus's hopes. She would be eternally contrasting the two men, and she +would elect to remain a spinster until time had cured her of her +love-sickness. In the meanwhile he would be upon the rocks financially, +or in some position even worse than that.</p> + +<p>"It is most annoying," he said to himself, with knitted brows and +clenched hands, "most confoundedly annoying, and all because of that +young scoundrel Penlogan. If I could only wring his neck or get him +clear out of the district it would be some satisfaction."</p> + +<p>The next moment the sound of snapping twigs fell distinctly on his ear. +He turned suddenly and caught a momentary glimpse of a white face +peering over a hedge.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, it's that scoundrel Penlogan!" was the thought that darted +suddenly through his mind. The next moment there was a flash, a report, +a stinging pain in his left arm and cheek, and then a moment of utter +mental confusion.</p> + +<p>He recovered himself in a moment or two and took to his heels. He had +been shot, he knew, but with what effect he could not tell. His left arm +hung limply by his side and felt like a burning coal. His cheek was +smarting intolerably, but the extent of the damage he had no means of +ascertaining. He might be fatally hurt for all he knew. Any moment he +might fall dead in the road, and the young villain who had shot him +might go unpunished.</p> + +<p>"I must prevent that if possible," he said to himself, as he kept +running at the top of his speed. "I must hold out till I get home. Oh, I +do hope my strength will not fail me! It's a terrible thing to be done +to death in this way."</p> + +<p>The perspiration was running in streams down his face. His breath came +and went in gasps, but he never slackened his pace for a moment; and +still as he ran the conviction grew and deepened in his mind that a +deliberate attempt had been made to murder him.</p> + +<p>He came within sight of the house at length, and began to shout at the +top of his voice—</p> + +<p>"Help! help! Murder! Be quick——"</p> + +<p>The coachman and the stable boy, who happened to be discussing politics +in the yard at the moment, took to their heels and both ran in the same +direction. They came upon their master, hatless and exhausted, and were +just in time to catch him in their arms before he sank to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've been murdered!" he gasped. "Think of it, murdered in my own +plantation! Carry me home, and then go for the doctor and the police. +That young Penlogan shall swing for this."</p> + +<p>"But you can't be murdered, master," the coachman said soothingly, "for +you're alive and able to talk."</p> + +<p>"But I'm nearly done for," he groaned. "I feel my life ebbing away fast. +Get me home as quickly as you can. I hope I'll live till the policeman +comes."</p> + +<p>The two men locked hands, and made a kind of chair for their master, and +then marched away towards the house.</p> + +<p>Sir John talked incessantly all the distance.</p> + +<p>"If I die before I get home," he said, "don't forget what I am telling +you. Justice must be done in a case like this. Won't there be a +sensation in the county when people learn that I was deliberately +murdered in my own plantation!"</p> + +<p>"But why should Ralph Penlogan want to murder you?" the coachman +queried.</p> + +<p>"Why? Don't ask me. He came to the house the day his father died and +threatened me. I saw murder in his eyes then. I believe he would have +murdered me in my own library if he had had the chance. But make haste, +for my strength is ebbing out rapidly."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you are going to die yet, sir," the coachman said +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know! I feel very strange. I keep praying that I may live +to get home and give evidence before the proper authorities. It seems +very strange that I should come to my end this way."</p> + +<p>"But you may recover, sir," the stable boy interposed. "There's never no +knowing what may happen in this world."</p> + +<p>"Please don't talk to me," he said petulantly. "You are wasting time +while you talk. I want to compose my mind. It's an awfully solemn thing +to be murdered, but he shall swing for it as sure as I'm living at this +moment! Don't you think you can hurry a little faster?"</p> + +<p>Sir John had considerably recovered by the time they reached the house, +and was able to walk upstairs and even to undress with assistance.</p> + +<p>While waiting for the doctor, Dorothy came and sat by his side. She was +very pale, but quite composed. Hers was one of those natures that seemed +to gather strength in proportion to the demands made upon it. She never +fainted or lost her wits or became hysterical. She met the need of the +moment with a courage that rarely failed her.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Dorothy," he said, in impressive tones, "I never thought I should +come to this, and at the hands of a dastardly assassin."</p> + +<p>"But are you sure it was not an accident, father?" she questioned +gently.</p> + +<p>"Accident?" he said, and his eyes blazed with anger. "Has it come to +this, that you would screen the man who has murdered your father?"</p> + +<p>"Let us not use such a word until we are compelled," she replied, in the +same gentle tones. "You may not be hurt as much as you fear."</p> + +<p>"Whether I am hurt much or little," he said, "the intention was there. +If I am not dead, the fault is not his."</p> + +<p>"But are you sure it was he who fired at you?"</p> + +<p>"As sure as I can be of anything in this world. Besides, who else would +do it? He threatened me the day his father died."</p> + +<p>"Threatened to murder you?"</p> + +<p>"Not in so many words, but he had murder in his eyes."</p> + +<p>"But why should he want to do you any harm? You never did any harm to +him."</p> + +<p>For a moment or two Sir John hesitated. Should he clench his argument by +supplying the motive? He would never have a better opportunity for +destroying at a single blow any romantic attachment that she may have +cherished. Destroy her faith in Ralph Penlogan—the handsome youth with +pleasant manners—and her heart might turn again to Lord Probus.</p> + +<p>But while he hesitated the door opened, and Dr. Barrow came hurriedly +into the room, followed by a nurse.</p> + +<p>Dorothy raised a pair of appealing eyes to the doctor's face, and then +stole sadly down to the drawing-room to await the verdict.</p> + +<p>As yet her faith in Ralph Penlogan remained unshaken. She had seen a +good deal of him during the last few weeks, and the more she had seen of +him the more she had admired him. His affection for his mother and +sister, his solicitude for their comfort and welfare, his anxiety to +take from their shoulders every burden, his impatience to get well so +that he might step into his dead father's place and be the bread-winner +of the family, had touched her heart irresistibly. She felt that a man +could not be bad who was so good to his mother and so kind and +chivalrous to his sister.</p> + +<p>Whether or no she had done wisely in going to the Penlogans' cottage was +a question she was not quite able to answer. Ostensibly she had gone to +see Mrs. Penlogan, who had not yet recovered from the shock caused by +her husband's death, and yet she was conscious of a very real sense of +disappointment if Ralph was not visible.</p> + +<p>That she should be interested in him was the most natural thing in the +world. They had been thrown together in no ordinary way. They had +succoured each other in times of very real peril—had each been the +other's good angel. Hence it would be folly to pretend the indifference +of absolute strangers. Socially, their lives lay wide as the poles +asunder, and yet there might be a very true kinship between them. The +only drawback to any sort of friendship was the confession she had +unwittingly listened to while he lay dazed and unconscious in the +plantation.</p> + +<p>How much it amounted to she did not know. Probably nothing. It was said +that people in delirium spoke the exact opposite of what they meant. +Ralph had reiterated that he hated her father. Probably he did nothing +of the kind. Why should he hate him? At any rate, since he began to get +better he had said nothing, as far as she was aware, that would convey +the remotest impression of such a feeling. His words respecting herself +probably had no more meaning or value, and she made an honest effort to +forget them.</p> + +<p>She had questioned him as to what he could remember after the branch of +the tree struck him. But he remembered nothing till the following day. +For twenty-four hours his mind was a complete blank, and he was quite +unsuspicious that he had spoken a single word to anyone. And yet, try as +she would, whenever she was in his presence, his words kept recurring to +her. There might be a worse tragedy in his life than that which had +already occurred.</p> + +<p>These thoughts kept chasing each other like lightning through her brain, +as she sat waiting for the verdict of the doctor.</p> + +<p>He came at length, and she rose at once to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Well, doctor?" she questioned. "Let me know the worst."</p> + +<p>She saw that there was a perplexed and even troubled look in his eyes, +and she feared that her father was more seriously hurt than she had +imagined.</p> + +<p>"There is no immediate danger," he said, taking her hands and leading +her back to her seat. They were great friends, and she trusted him +implicitly.</p> + +<p>She gave a little sigh of relief and waited for him to speak again.</p> + +<p>"The main volume of the charge just missed him," he went on, after a +pause. "Had he been an inch or two farther to the left, the chances are +he would never have spoken again."</p> + +<p>"But you think that he will get better?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. I see no cause for apprehension. His left shoulder and arm +are badly speckled, no doubt, but I don't think any vital part has been +touched."</p> + +<p>Dorothy sighed again, and for a moment or two there was silence. Then +she said, with evident effort—</p> + +<p>"But what about—about—young Penlogan?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that I fear is a more serious matter," he answered, with averted +eyes. "I sincerely trust that your father is mistaken."</p> + +<p>"You are not sure that he is?"</p> + +<p>"It seems as if one can be sure of nothing in this world," he answered +slowly and evasively, "and yet I could have trusted Ralph Penlogan with +my life."</p> + +<p>"Does father still persist that it was he?"</p> + +<p>"He is quite positive, and almost gets angry if one suggests that he may +have been mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Well, doctor, and what will all this lead to?" she questioned, making a +strong effort to keep her voice steady.</p> + +<p>"For the moment I fear it must lead to young Penlogan's arrest. There +seems no way of escaping that. Your father's depositions will be taken +as soon as Mr. Tregonning arrives. Then, of course, a warrant will be +issued, and most likely Penlogan will spend to-night in the +police-station—unless——" Then he paused suddenly and looked out of +the window.</p> + +<p>"Unless what, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Well, unless he has tried to get away somewhere. It will be dark +directly, and under cover of darkness he might get a long distance."</p> + +<p>"But that would imply that he is guilty?"</p> + +<p>"Well—yes. I am assuming, of course, that he deliberately shot at your +father."</p> + +<p>"Which I am quite sure he did not do."</p> + +<p>"I have the same conviction myself, and yet he made no secret of the +fact that he hated your father."</p> + +<p>"But why should he hate my father?"</p> + +<p>"You surely know——" Then he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing," she answered. "What is the ground of his dislike?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, here is Mr. Tregonning's carriage," he said, in a tone of relief. +"Now I must run away. Keep your heart up, and don't worry any more than +you can help."</p> + +<p>For several moments she walked up and down the room with a restless yet +undecided step. Then she made suddenly for the door, and three minutes +later she might have been seen hurrying along the drive in the swiftly +gathering darkness as fast as her feet could carry her.</p> + +<p>"I'll see him for myself," she said, with a resolute light in her eyes. +"I'll get the truth from his own lips. I'm sure he will not lie to me."</p> + +<p>It was quite dark when she reached the village, save for the twinkling +lights in cottage windows.</p> + +<p>She met a few people, but no one recognised her, enveloped as she was in +a heavy cloak. For a moment or two she paused before the door of the +Penlogans' cottage. Her heart was beating very fast, and she felt like a +bird of evil omen. If Ralph was innocent, then he knew nothing of the +trouble that was looming ahead, and she would be the petrel to announce +the coming storm.</p> + +<p>She gave a timid rat-tat at the door, and after a moment or two it was +opened by Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Dorothy!" And Ruth started back in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Is your brother at home?" Dorothy questioned, with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Won't you come in?"</p> + +<p>"Would you mind asking him to come to the door. I have only a moment or +two to spare."</p> + +<p>"You had better come into the passage," Ruth said, "and I will go at +once and tell him you are here."</p> + +<p>Dorothy stepped over the threshold and stood under the small lamp that +lighted the tiny hall.</p> + +<p>In a few moments Ralph stood before her, his cheeks flushed, and an +eager, questioning light in his eyes.</p> + +<p>She looked at him eagerly for a moment before she spoke, and could not +help thinking how handsome he looked.</p> + +<p>"I have come on a strange errand," she said, speaking rapidly, "and I +fear there is more trouble in store for you. But tell me first, have you +ever lifted a finger against my father?"</p> + +<p>"Never, Miss Dorothy! Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"And you have never planned, or purposed, or attempted to do him harm?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, Miss Dorothy. Why should you think of such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"My father was shot this afternoon in Treliskey Plantation. He saw a +face for a moment peering over a hedge; the next moment there was a +flash and a report, and a part of the charge entered his left arm and +shoulder. He is in bed now, and Mr. Tregonning is taking his +depositions. He vows that it was your face that he saw peering over the +hedge—that it was you who shot him."</p> + +<p>Ralph's face grew ashen while she was speaking, and a look almost of +terror crept into his eyes. The difficulty and peril of his position +revealed themselves in a moment. How could he prove that Sir John +Hamblyn was mistaken?</p> + +<p>"But you do not believe it, Miss Dorothy?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"You tell me that you are innocent?" she asked, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I am as innocent as you are," he said; and he looked frankly and +appealingly into her eyes.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two she looked at him in silence, then she said in the +same low tone—</p> + +<p>"I believe you." And she held out her hand to him, and then turned +towards the door.</p> + +<p>He had a hundred things to say to her, but somehow the words would not +come. He watched her cross the threshold and pass out into the darkness, +and he stood still and had not the courage to follow her. It would have +been at least a neighbourly thing to see her to the lodge gates, for the +night was unillumined by even a star, but his lips refused to move. He +stood stock-still, as if riveted to the ground.</p> + +<p>How long he remained there staring into the darkness he did not know. +Time and place were swallowed up and lost. He was conscious only of the +steady approach of an overwhelming calamity. It was gathering from every +point of the compass at the same time. It was wrapping him round like a +sable pall. It was obliterating one by one every star of hope and +promise.</p> + +<p>Ruth came to look for him at length, and she uttered a little cry when +she saw him, for his face was like the face of the dead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE STORM BURSTS</h3> + + +<p>"Why, Ralph, what is the matter?" And Ruth seized one of his hands and +stared eagerly and appealingly into his face.</p> + +<p>He shook himself as if he had been asleep, then closed the door quietly +and followed her into the living-room.</p> + +<p>"Are you not well, Ralph?" Ruth persisted, as she drew up his chair a +little nearer the fire. Mrs. Penlogan laid her knitting in her lap, and +her eyes echoed Ruth's inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I've heard some bad news," he said, speaking with an effort, and he +dropped into his chair and stared at the fire.</p> + +<p>"Bad news!" both women echoed. "What has happened, Ralph?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated for a moment, then he told them the story as Dorothy had +told it to him.</p> + +<p>"But why should you worry?" Ruth questioned quickly. "You were nowhere +near the plantation."</p> + +<p>"But how am I to prove it?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Have you been alone all the afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely."</p> + +<p>"But you have surely seen someone?"</p> + +<p>"As bad luck would have it, I have not seen a soul."</p> + +<p>"But some people may have seen you."</p> + +<p>"That is likely enough. Twenty people in the village looking from behind +their curtains may have seen me walk out with a gun under my arm."</p> + +<p>"And it's the first time you've carried a gun since we left Hillside."</p> + +<p>"The very first time, and it looks as if it will be the last."</p> + +<p>"But surely, Ralph, no one would believe for a moment that you could do +such a thing?" his mother interposed. "It's been some awkward accident, +you may depend. It will all come out right in the morning."</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry for you, mother," he said slowly. "You've had trouble +enough lately, God knows. We all have, for that matter. But it is of no +use shutting our eyes to the fact that this is a very awkward business, +and while we should hope for the best, we should prepare for the worst."</p> + +<p>"What worst do you refer to, Ralph?" she asked, a little querulously. +"You surely do not think——"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what to think, mother," he interrupted, for it was quite +clear she did not realise yet the gravity of the situation. "It may mean +imprisonment and the loss of my good name, which would mean the loss of +everything and the end of the world for me."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; surely not," and the tears began to gather in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"The trouble lies here," he went on. "Everybody knows that I hate the +squire. We all do, for that matter, and for very good reasons. As it +happens, I have been out with a gun this afternoon, and have brought +home a couple of rabbits. I shot them in Dingley Bottom, but no one saw +me. Somebody trespassing in the plantation came upon the squire. He was +climbing over a hedge, and very likely in drawing back suddenly +something caught the trigger and the gun went off. Now unless that man +confesses, what is to become of me?"</p> + +<p>"But he will confess. Nobody would let you be wrongfully accused," she +interrupted.</p> + +<p>He shook his head dubiously. "Most people are so anxious to save their +own skin," he said, "that they do not trouble much about what becomes of +other people."</p> + +<p>"But if the worst should come to the worst, Ralph," Ruth questioned +timidly, "what would it mean?"</p> + +<p>"Transportation," he said gloomily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Penlogan began to cry. It seemed almost as if God had forsaken +them, and her faith in Providence was in danger of going from her. She +and Ruth had been bewailing the hardness of their lot that afternoon +while Ralph was out with his gun. The few pounds saved from the general +wreck were nearly exhausted. When the funeral expenses had been paid, +and the removal accounts had been squared, there was very little left. +To make matters worse, Ralph's accident had to be added to their +calamities. He was only just beginning to get about again, and when the +doctor's bill came in they would be worse than penniless, they would be +in debt.</p> + +<p>And now suddenly, and without warning, this new trouble threatened them. +A trouble that was worse than poverty—worse even than death. Their good +name, they imagined, was unassailable, and if that went by the board, +everything would be lost.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat silent, and stared into the fire. In the main his thoughts +were very bitter, but one sweet reflection came and went in the most +unaccountable fashion. One pure and almost perfect face peeped at him +from between the bars of the grate and vanished, but always came back +again after a few minutes and smiled all the more sweetly, as if to +atone for its absence.</p> + +<p>Why had Dorothy Hamblyn taken the trouble to interview him? Why was she +so interested in his fate? How was it that she was so ready to accept +his word? To give any rational answer to these questions seemed +impossible. If she felt what he felt, the explanation would be simple +enough; but since by no exercise of his fancy or imagination could he +bring himself to that view of the case, her conduct—her apparent +solicitude—remained inexplicable.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the thought of Dorothy was the one sweet drop in his +bitter cup. The why and wherefore of her interest might remain a +mystery, yet the fact remained that of her own free will she had come to +see him that she might get the truth from his own lips, and without any +hesitation she had told him that she believed his word. Sir John might +hunt him down with all the venom of a sleuth hound, but he would always +have this crumb of consolation, that the Squire's daughter believed in +him still.</p> + +<p>He had given up trying to hate her. Nay, he accepted it as part of the +irony of fate that he should do the other thing. He could not understand +why destiny should be so relentlessly cruel to him, why every +circumstance and every combination of circumstances should unite to +crush him. But he had to accept life as he found it. The world seemed to +be ruled by might, not by justice. The strong worked their will upon the +weak. It was the fate of the feeble to go under; the helpless cried in +vain for deliverance, the poor were daily oppressed.</p> + +<p>He found his youthful optimism a steadily diminishing quantity. His +father's fate seemed to mock the idea of an over-ruling Providence. If +there was ever a good man in the parish, his father was that man. No +breath of slander had ever touched his name. Honest, industrious, +pure-minded, God-fearing, he lived and wrought with all his might, doing +to others as he would they should do to him. And yet he died of a broken +heart, defeated and routed in the unequal contest, victimised by the +uncertain chances of life, ground to powder by laws he did not make, and +had no chance of escaping. And in that hour of overwhelming disaster +there was no hand to deliver him save the kindly hand of death.</p> + +<p>"And what is there before me?" he asked himself bitterly. "What have I +to live for, or hope for? The very springs of my youth seem poisoned. My +love is a cruel mockery, my ambitions are frost-nipped in the bud."</p> + +<p>For the rest of the evening very little was said. Supper was a sadly +frugal meal, and they ate it in silence. Ruth and her mother could not +help wondering how long it would be ere they would have no food to eat.</p> + +<p>Ralph kept listening with keen apprehension for the sound of a measured +footstep outside the door. At any moment he might be arrested. Sir John +was one of the most important men in St. Goram, hence the law would be +swift to take its course. The policemen would be falling over each other +in their eagerness to do their duty.</p> + +<p>The tall grandfather's clock in the corner beat out the moments with +loud and monotonous click. The fire in the grate sank lower and lower. +All the village noises died down into silence. Mrs. Penlogan's chin, in +spite of her anxiety, began to droop upon her bosom.</p> + +<p>"I think we shall be left undisturbed to-night," Ralph said, with a +pathetic smile. "Perhaps we had better get off to bed."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Penlogan rose at once and fetched the family Bible and handed it on +to Ruth. It fell open at the 23rd Psalm: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I +shall not want."</p> + +<p>Ruth read it in a low, even voice. It was her father's favourite +portion—his sheet-anchor when the storms of life raged most fiercely. +Now he was beyond the tempest and beyond the strife.</p> + +<p>For the first time Ralph felt thankful that he was dead.</p> + +<p>"Dear old father," he said to himself. "He has got beyond the worry and +the pain. His heart will ache no more for ever."</p> + +<p>They all knelt down when the psalm ended; but no one prayed aloud.</p> + +<p>Ralph remained after the others had gone upstairs. It seemed of little +use going to bed, he felt too restless to sleep.</p> + +<p>Ever since Dorothy went away he had been expecting Policeman Budda to +call with a warrant for his arrest. Why he had not come he could not +understand. He wondered if Dorothy had interceded with her father, and +his eyes softened at the thought.</p> + +<p>He did not blame himself for loving her in a restrained and far-off way. +She was so fair and sweet and generous. That she was beyond his reach +was no fault of his—that he had carried her in his arms and pressed her +to his heart was the tragedy as well as the romance of his life. That +she had watched by him and succoured him in the plantation was only +another cord that bound his heart to her. That he should love her was +but the inevitable sequence of events.</p> + +<p>It was foolish to blame himself. He would be something less than man if +he did not love her. He had tried his hardest not to—had struggled with +all his might to put the memory of her out of his heart. But he gave up +the struggle weeks ago. It was of no use fighting against fate. It was +part of the burden he had been called upon to bear, and he would have to +bear it as bravely and as patiently as he knew how.</p> + +<p>He was not so vain as to imagine that she cared for him in the smallest +degree—or ever could care. Moreover, she was engaged to be married, and +would have been married months ago but for her accident.</p> + +<p>Ralph got up from his chair and began to walk about the room. Dorothy +Hamblyn was not for him, he knew well enough, and yet whenever he +thought of her marrying Lord Probus his whole soul revolted. It seemed +to him like sacrilege, and sacrilege in its basest form.</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight when he stole silently and stealthily to his +little room, and soon after he fell fast asleep.</p> + +<p>When he opened his eyes again the light of a new day filled the room, +and a harsh and unfamiliar voice was speaking rapidly in the room below. +Ralph leaned over the side of his bed for a moment or two and listened.</p> + +<p>"It's Budda's voice," he said to himself at length, and he gave a little +gasp. If Dorothy had interceded for him, her intercession had failed. +The law would now have to take its course.</p> + +<p>He dressed himself carefully and with great deliberation. He would not +show the white feather if he could help it. Besides, it was just +possible he might be able to clear himself. He would not give up hope +until he was compelled to.</p> + +<p>Budda was very civil and even sympathetic. He sat by the fire while +Ralph ate his breakfast, and retailed a good deal of the gossip of the +village so as to lessen the strain of the situation. Ralph replied to +him with an air of well-feigned indifference and unconcern. He would +rather die than betray weakness before a policeman.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth moved in and out of the room with set faces and +dry eyes. They knew how to endure silently. So many storms had beaten +upon them that it did not seem to matter much what came to them now. +Also they knew that the real bitterness would come when Ralph's place +was empty.</p> + +<p>Budda appeared to be in no hurry. It was all in his day's work, and +since Ralph showed no disposition to bolt, an hour sooner or later made +no difference. He read the terms of the warrant with great deliberation +and in his most impressive manner. Ralph made no reply. This was neither +the time nor the place to protest his innocence.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, Ralph stretched his feet for a few moments before the +fire. Budda talked on; but Ralph said nothing. He sprang to his feet at +length and got on his hat and overcoat, while his mother and Ruth were +out of the room.</p> + +<p>"Now I am ready," he said; and Budda at once led the way.</p> + +<p>He met his mother and sister in the passage and kissed them a hurried +good-morning, and almost before they knew what had happened the door +closed, and Ralph and the policeman had disappeared.</p> + +<p>On the following morning he was brought before the magistrates and +remanded for a week, bail being refused.</p> + +<p>It was fortunate for him that in the solitude of his cell he had no +conception of the tremendous sensation his arrest produced. There had +been nothing like it in St. Goram for more than a generation, and for a +week or two little else was talked about.</p> + +<p>Of course, opinions varied as to the measure of his guilt or innocence. +But, in the main, the current of opinion went strongly against him. When +a man is down, it is surprising how few his friends are. The bulk of the +St. Goramites were far more ready to kick him than defend him. Wiseacres +and busybodies told all who cared to listen how they had predicted some +such catastrophe. David Penlogan was a good man, but he had not trained +his children wisely. He had spent more on their education than his +circumstances warranted, with the result that they were exclusive and +proud, and discontented with the station in life to which Providence had +called them.</p> + +<p>Ralph would have been infinitely pained had he known how indifferent the +mass of the people were to his fate, and how ready some of those whom he +had regarded as his friends were to listen to tales against him. Even +those who defended him, did it in a very tepid and half-hearted way; and +the more strongly the current ran against him, the more feeble became +his defence.</p> + +<p>At the end of a week Ralph was brought up and remanded again. Sir John +Hamblyn was still confined to his bed, and the doctor could not say when +he would be well enough to appear and give evidence.</p> + +<p>So time after time he was dragged into the dock, only to be hustled +after a few minutes back into his cell.</p> + +<p>But at length, after weary weeks of waiting, Sir John appeared at the +court-house with his arm in a sling. The bench was crowded with +magistrates, all of whom were loud in their expressions of sympathy and +emphatic in their denunciation of the crime that had been committed.</p> + +<p>Sir John being a baronet and a magistrate, and a very considerable +landowner, was accommodated with a cushion, and allowed to sit while he +gave evidence. The court-room was packed, and the crowd outside was +considerably larger than that within.</p> + +<p>Ralph was led into the dock looking but a ghost of his former self. The +long weeks of confinement—following upon his illness—the scanty prison +fare in place of nourishing food, had wasted him almost to a shadow. He +stood, however, erect and defiant, and faced the bench of country +squires with a fearless light in his eyes. They might have the power to +shut him up within stone walls, but they could not break his spirit.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>SIR JOHN GETS ANGRY</h3> + + +<p>It was remarked that Sir John never looked at the prisoner all the time +he was giving evidence. He was, however, perfectly at home before his +brother magistrates, and showed none of that nervousness and restraint +which ordinary mortals feel in similar circumstances. The story he told +was simple and straightforward. He had not an enemy in the parish, as +far as he knew, except the prisoner, who had made no secret of his +hatred and of his desire for revenge.</p> + +<p>He admitted that fortune had been unkind to the elder Penlogan, but in +the chances of life it was inevitable that some should come out at the +bottom. As the ground landlord, he had acted with every consideration, +and had given David Penlogan plenty of time to realise to the best +advantage. Hence he felt quite sure that their worships would acquit him +of any intention of being either harsh or unjust.</p> + +<p>A general nodding of heads on the part of the magistrates satisfied him +on that point.</p> + +<p>He then went on to tell the story of the prisoner's visit to Hamblyn +Manor, and how he had the effrontery to charge him with killing his +father.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, he had murder in his eyes when he came to see me; but, +fortunately, he had no opportunity of doing me harm."</p> + +<p>Sir John waved his right hand dramatically when he uttered these words, +the effect of which—in the language of the local reporter—was +"Sensation in Court."</p> + +<p>He then went on to describe the events of the afternoon when the shot +was fired.</p> + +<p>He was not likely to be mistaken in the prisoner's face. He had no wish +to take an oath that it was the prisoner, but he was morally certain +that it was he.</p> + +<p>Then followed a good deal of collateral evidence that the police had +gathered up and spliced together. The prisoner had been seen by a number +of people that afternoon with a gun under his arm. He wore a cloth cap, +such as Sir John had described. He had been seen crossing Polskiddy +Downs, which, as everyone knew, abutted on Treliskey Plantation. He had +expressed himself very bitterly on several occasions respecting Sir +John, and had talked vaguely about being quits with him some day. +Footprints near the hedge behind which the shot was fired tallied with a +pair of boots in the prisoner's house; also, the prisoner returned to +his own house within an hour of the shot being fired.</p> + +<p>The magistrates looked more and more grave as the chain of evidence +lengthened out, though most of them had quite made up their minds before +the proceedings began.</p> + +<p>Ralph, in spite of all advice to the contrary, pleaded "not guilty," and +being allowed to speak in his own defence, availed himself of the +opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Why should I want to kill the squire?" he said, in a tone of scorn. +"God will punish him soon enough." (More sensation in court.) "That he +has behaved badly to us," Ralph went on, "no unprejudiced person will +deny, though you, being landowners yourselves, approve. I don't deny +that he acted within his legal rights. So did Shylock. But had he the +heart of a savage, to say nothing of a Christian, he could not have +acted more oppressively. I told him that he killed my father—and I +repeat it to-day!" (Renewed sensation.) "I did go out shooting on that +day in question. My gun licence has not expired yet. Mr. Hooker told me +I could shoot over Dingley Bottom any time I liked, and I was glad of +the opportunity, for our larder was not overstocked, as you may imagine. +I crossed Polskiddy Downs, I admit—it is the one bit of common land +that you gentry have not filched from us——" (Profound sensation, +during which the chairman protested that if prisoner did not keep +himself strictly to his defence, the privilege of speaking further would +be taken from him.) "As you will, gentlemen," Ralph said indifferently. +"I do not expect justice or a fair hearing in a court of this kind."</p> + +<p>"Order, order!" shouted the magistrates' clerk. The chairman intimated, +after a few moments of silence, that the prisoner might proceed if he +would promise not to insult the Bench.</p> + +<p>"I have very little more to add," Ralph went on, quite calmly. +"Unfortunately, no one saw me in Dingley Bottom, and yet I went straight +there from home, and came straight back again. I did not go within half +a mile of Treliskey Plantation. Moreover, if I wanted to meet Sir John, +I should go to his house, as I have done more than once, and not wander +through miles of wood on the off-chance of meeting him. Nor is that all. +If I wanted to kill the gentleman, I should have killed him, and not +sprinkled a few shots on his coat sleeve. I have two barrels to my gun, +and I do not often miss what I aim at. If I had intended to murder him, +do you think I should have been such a fool as to first show my face and +then let him escape? I went out in broad daylight; I returned in broad +daylight. Is it conceivable that if I intended to shoot the gentleman I +should have been seen carrying a gun? or that, having done the deed, I +should have returned in sight of all the village? It has been suggested +that, having been caught trespassing in the plantation, I was seized +with a sudden desire for revenge. If that had been the case, do you +think I would have half completed the task? As all the parish can +testify, I am no indifferent shot. If I was alone in the plantation with +him, and wanted to kill him, I could have done it. But, gentlemen, I +swear before God I was not in the plantation, nor even near it. I have +never lifted a finger against this man, nor would I do it if I had the +opportunity. That he has treated me and mine with cruel oppression is +common knowledge. But vengeance is God's, and I have no desire, nor ever +had any desire, to take the law into my own hands."</p> + +<p>Many opinions were expressed afterwards as to the effect produced by +Ralph's speech, but the general impression was that he did no good for +himself. The Bench was by no means impressed in his favour. They +detected a socialistic flavour in some of the things he flung at them. +He had not been respectful—indeed, in plain English, he had been +insulting. They would not have tolerated him, only he was on his trial, +and they were anxious to avoid any suspicion of unfairness. They +flattered themselves afterwards that they displayed a spirit of great +Christian forbearance, and as they had almost to a man made up their +minds beforehand, they had no hesitation in committing him to take his +trial at the next Assizes on the charge of shooting at Sir John Hamblyn +with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.</p> + +<p>The question of bail was not mentioned, and Ralph went back to his cell +to meditate once more on the tender mercies of the rich and the justice +of the strong.</p> + +<p>Sir John returned to his home very well pleased with the result of the +morning's proceedings. The decision of the magistrates seemed a +compliment to himself. To make it an Assize case indicated a due +appreciation of his position and importance.</p> + +<p>Also he was pleased because he believed the decision would completely +destroy any romantic attachment that Dorothy might cherish for the +accused. It had come to his knowledge that at the very time Mr. +Tregonning was at his bedside taking his depositions, she was at the +cottage of the Penlogans interviewing the accused himself. This +knowledge had made Sir John more angry than he had been for a very long +time. It was not merely the indiscretion that angered him, it was what +the indiscretion implied.</p> + +<p>However, he believed that the decision of the magistrates would put an +end to all this nonsense, and that in the revulsion of feeling Lord +Probus would again have his opportunity.</p> + +<p>Dorothy asked him the result of the trial on his return, and when he +told her she made no reply whatever. Neither did he enlarge on the +matter. He concluded that it would be the wiser policy to let the simple +facts of the case make their own impression. Women, he knew, were +proverbially stubborn, and not always reasonable, while the more they +were opposed, the more doggedly determined they became.</p> + +<p>Such fears and suspicions as he had he wisely kept to himself. Dorothy +was only a foolish girl, who would grow wiser with time. The teaching of +experience and the pressure of circumstances would in the end, he +believed, compel her to go the way he wished her to take. In the +meanwhile, his cue was to watch and wait, and not too obtrusively show +his hand.</p> + +<p>Dorothy was as reticent on the matter as her father. That she had become +keenly interested in the fate of Ralph Penlogan she did not attempt to +hide from herself. That a cruel wrong had been done to him she honestly +believed. That her sympathies went out to him in his undeserved +sufferings was a fact she had no wish to dispute, and that in some way +he had influenced her in her decision not to marry Lord Probus was also, +to her own mind, too patent to be contested.</p> + +<p>But she saw no danger in any of these simple facts. The idea of being in +love with a small working farmer's son did not enter her head. She +belonged to a different world socially, and such a proposition would not +occur to her. But social position could not prevent her admiring good +looks, and physical strength, and manly ways, and a generous +disposition, when they were brought under her notice.</p> + +<p>On the day following the decision of the magistrates she read a full +account of the proceedings in the local newspaper, and for the first +time was made aware of the fact that it was not Lord St. Goram who had +so unmercifully oppressed the Penlogans, but her own father.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes she felt quite stunned.</p> + +<p>It had never occurred to her that her father was the lord of the manor. +In her mind he was not a lord at all. He was simply a baronet.</p> + +<p>How short-sighted she had been! Slowly the full meaning and significance +of the fact worked its way into her brain, and her face flushed with +shame and indignation. Why had not her father the courage to tell her +the truth? Why had he allowed her to wrong Lord St. Goram even in +thought? Why was he so relentless in his pursuit of the people he had +treated so harshly? Was it true that people never forgave those they had +wronged? Then her thoughts turned unconsciously to the Penlogans. How +they must hate her father, and yet how sensitive they had been not to +hurt her feelings. Even Ralph had allowed her to think that Lord St. +Goram was the oppressor.</p> + +<p>"He ought not to have deceived me," she said to herself, and yet she +liked him all the more for his chivalry.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts went back to that first day of their meeting, when she +mistook him for a country yokel. Considering the fact that she was a +lady, and on horseback, he had undoubtedly been rude to her, and yet he +was rude in a manly sort of way. She liked him even then, and liked him +all the more because he did not cringe to her.</p> + +<p>But since then his every word and act had evinced the very soul of +chivalry. In many ways he was much more a gentleman than Lord Probus. +Indeed, she was inclined to think that in every way he was more of a +gentleman. Lord Probus had wealth—fabulous wealth, it was believed—and +a thin veneer of polish. But, stripped of the outer shell, she felt +quite certain that the farmer's son was much more the gentleman of the +two.</p> + +<p>It was inevitable, however, that the subject should sooner or later crop +up between the father and daughter, and when it did crop up, Sir John +was quite unable to hide the bias of his mind.</p> + +<p>"In tracking down a crime," he said, with quite a magisterial air, "the +first thing to discover, if possible, is a motive. Given a motive, the +rest is often comparatively easy. Now in this case I kept the motive +from you, as I had no wish to prejudice the young man in your eyes. But +in the preliminary trial, as you will have observed, the motive came +out. Why he shot me is clear enough. Why he did not complete the work is +due probably to failure of nerve; or possibly he thought I was dead, for +I fell to the ground like a log."</p> + +<p>"Why, father, you said you took to your heels and ran like the wind, and +so got out of his reach."</p> + +<p>"That was after I recovered myself, Dorothy. I admit I ran then."</p> + +<p>"And you still believe that it was he who fired the shot?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I do."</p> + +<p>"With intent to kill?"</p> + +<p>"There is not the least doubt of it."</p> + +<p>"You think he had good reason for hating you?"</p> + +<p>"From his point of view he may think that I ought to have foregone my +rights."</p> + +<p>"He thinks you ought not to have pushed them to extremes, as you did. It +was a cruel thing to do, father, and you know it."</p> + +<p>"The Penlogans have never been desirable people. They have never known +their place, or kept it. I wouldn't have leased the downs to them if I +had known their opinions. No man did so much to turn the last election +as David Penlogan."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he had a perfect right to his opinions?"</p> + +<p>"And I have the right to exercise any influence or power I possess in +any way I please," he retorted angrily. "And if I chose to accept a more +suitable tenant for one of my farms, that's my business and no one +else's."</p> + +<p>"I have no wish to argue the question, father," she answered quietly.</p> + +<p>"But I suppose you will own that the fellow is guilty?"</p> + +<p>"No, father. I am quite sure that he is no more guilty than I am."</p> + +<p>"What folly!" he ejaculated angrily.</p> + +<p>"I do not think it is folly at all. I know Ralph Penlogan better than +you do, and I know he is incapable of such a thing. At the Assizes you +will be made to look incredibly foolish."</p> + +<p>"What? what?" he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Here, all the magistrates belong to your set. They had made up their +minds beforehand. No unprejudiced jury in the world would ever convict +on such evidence."</p> + +<p>"Child," he said angrily, "you don't know what you are talking about."</p> + +<p>"And even if he were convicted," she went on, with flashing eyes, "I +should know all the same that he is innocent."</p> + +<p>He looked at her almost aghast. This was worse than his worst +suspicions.</p> + +<p>"Then you have made up your mind," he said, with a brave effort to +control himself, "to believe that he is innocent, whatever judge or jury +may say?"</p> + +<p>"I know he is innocent," she answered quietly.</p> + +<p>"You are a little simpleton," he said, clenching and unclenching his +hands; "a foolish, headstrong girl. I am grieved at you, ashamed of you! +I did expect ordinary common sense in my daughter."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you are angry with me," she said demurely. "But think again. +Are you not biased and prejudiced? You are not sure it was his face you +saw. In all probability the gun going off was pure accident. Have you +not been hard enough on the Penlogans already, that you persist in +having this on your conscience also?"</p> + +<p>"Silence!" he almost screamed, and he advanced a step towards her with +clenched hand. "Go to your room," he cried, "and don't show your face +again to-day! To-morrow I will talk to you, and not only talk but act."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE BIG HOUSE</h3> + + +<p>It was when Mrs. Penlogan began to dispose of her furniture in order to +provide food and fuel that the landlord became alarmed about his rent, +and so promptly seized what remained in order to make himself secure.</p> + +<p>It was three days after Christmas, and the weather was bitterly cold. +Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth looked at each other for a moment in silence, and +then burst into tears. What was to be done now she did not know. Ralph +was still in prison awaiting his trial, and so was powerless to help +them. Their money was all spent. Even their furniture was gone, and they +had no friends to whom they could turn for help.</p> + +<p>Since Ralph's committal their old friends had fought shy of them. Ruth +felt the disgrace more keenly than did her mother. The cold looks of +people they had befriended in their better days cut her to the heart. +Ruth had tried to get the post of sewing mistress at the day school, +which had become vacant, but the fact that her brother was in prison +awaiting his trial proved an insuperable barrier. It would never do to +contaminate the tender hearts of the young by bringing them into contact +with one whose brother had been accused of a terrible crime.</p> + +<p>She never realised before how sensitive the public conscience was, nor +how jealous all the St. Goramites were for the honour of the community. +People whom she had always understood were no better than they ought to +be, turned up their noses at her in haughty disdain. But that it was so +tragic, she could have laughed at the virtuous airs assumed by people +whose private life had long been the talk of the district.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible blow to Ruth. The Penlogans, though looked upon as +somewhat exclusive, had been widely respected. David Penlogan was a man +in a thousand. Mistaken, some people thought, foolish in the investment +of his money, and much too trusting where human nature was involved, but +his sincerity and goodness no one doubted. The young people had been +less admired, for they seemed a little above their station. They spoke +the language of the gentry, and kept aloof from everything that savoured +of vulgarity. "They were too well educated for their position."</p> + +<p>Their sudden and painful fall proved an occasion for much moralising. +"Pride goeth before a fall," was a passage of Scripture that found great +acceptance. If the Penlogans had not been so exclusive in their better +days, they would not have found themselves so destitute of friends now.</p> + +<p>Two or three days practically without food or fire reduced Ruth and her +mother to a state bordering on despair. If they had possessed any pride +in the past it was all gone now. Hunger is a great leveller.</p> + +<p>The relieving officer, when consulted, had little in the way of comfort +to offer, though he gave much sage advice. He had little doubt that the +parish would allow Mrs. Penlogan half a crown a week; that was the limit +of outdoor relief. Her husband had paid scores of pounds in the shape of +poor rate, but that counted for nothing. The justice of the strong +manifests itself in many ways. When a man is no longer able to +contribute to the maintenance of paupers in general, he becomes a pauper +himself. Cease to pay your poor rate, because you are too old to work, +and you cease to be a citizen, your vote is taken away, you are classed +among the social rubbish of your generation.</p> + +<p>"But what is to become of me?" Ruth asked pitifully.</p> + +<p>The relieving officer stroked the side of his nose and considered the +question for a moment before he answered.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," he said, "the law makes no provision for such as you. You +see you are a able-bodied young woman. You must earn your own living."</p> + +<p>"That is what I have been trying my best to do," she answered tearfully. +"But because poor Ralph has been wrongfully and wickedly accused, no one +will look at me."</p> + +<p>"That, of course, we cannot 'elp," the relieving officer answered.</p> + +<p>Ruth and her mother lay awake all the night and talked the matter over. +It was clearly beyond the bounds of possibility that two people could +live and pay rent out of half a crown a week. What then was to be done? +There was only one alternative, and Ruth had not the courage to face it. +Her mother was in feeble health, her spirit was broken, and to send her +alone into the workhouse would be to break her heart.</p> + +<p>The maximum of cruelty with the minimum of charity appears to be the +principle on which our poor-law system is based. The sensitive and +self-respecting loathe the very thought of it, and no man with a heart +in him can wonder.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Penlogan, however, had reached the limit of mental suffering. There +comes a point when the utmost is reached, when the lash can do no more, +when the nerves refuse to carry any heavier burden of pain. To the sad +and broken-hearted woman it seemed of little moment what became of her. +All that she asked was a lonely corner somewhere in which she might hide +herself and die.</p> + +<p>She knew almost by instinct what was passing through Ruth's mind. She +lay silent, but she was not asleep.</p> + +<p>"You are thinking about the workhouse, Ruth?" she said at length.</p> + +<p>"They'll not have me there, mother, for I am healthy and able-bodied."</p> + +<p>"There'll be something left from the furniture when the rent is paid," +Mrs. Penlogan said, after a long pause. "You'll have to take it and face +the world. When I am in the workhouse you will be much more free."</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>"It's got to come, Ruth. I would much rather go down to St. Ivel and +throw myself into a shaft, but that would be self-murder, and a murderer +cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. So I will endure as patiently +as I can, and as long as God wills. When it is over, it will seem but a +dream. I want to see father again when the night ends. Dear David, I am +glad he went when he did."</p> + +<p>"If he had lived we should not have come to this," Ruth answered +tearfully.</p> + +<p>"If he had lived a paralytic, Ruth, our lot would have been even worse. +So it is better that God took him before he became a burden to himself."</p> + +<p>"And yet but for the cruel laws made by the rich and powerful he would +still be with us, and we should not have been turned out of the dear old +home."</p> + +<p>"That is over and past, Ruth," Mrs. Penlogan answered, with a sigh. "Ah +me! if this life were all, it would not be worth the living—at least +for the poor and oppressed. But we have to endure as best we may. You +can tell Mr. Thomas that I will go to the workhouse whenever he likes to +fetch me."</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean it, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ruth. I've thought it all over. It's the only thing left. It +wouldn't be right to lie here and die of starvation. Maybe when the +storm has spent itself there will come a time of peace."</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the grave, mother."</p> + +<p>"If God so wills," she answered. "But I would like to live to see +Ralph's name cleared before the world."</p> + +<p>"I have almost given up hope of that," Ruth answered sadly. "How can the +poor defend themselves against the rich? Poor Ralph will stand +undefended before judge and jury, and we have seen how easy it is to +work up a case and make every link fit into its place."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps God will stand by him," Mrs. Penlogan answered, but in doubting +tones. "Oh, if I only had faith as I once had! But I seem like a reed +that has been broken by the storm. I try my hardest to believe, but +doubts will come. And yet, who knows, God may be better than our fears."</p> + +<p>"God appears to be on the side of the rich and strong," Ruth answered, a +little defiantly. "Why should John Hamblyn be allowed to work his will +on everybody? Even his daughter is kept a prisoner at home, lest she +should show her sympathy to us."</p> + +<p>"That is only gossip, Ruth. She may have no desire to come, or she may +not have the courage. She knows now the part her father has played."</p> + +<p>To this Ruth made no answer, and then silence fell until it was time to +get up.</p> + +<p>The day passed for the most part as the night had done, in discussing +the situation. The last morsel of food in the house had disappeared, and +strict watch was kept that they pawned no more of the furniture.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Penlogan never once faltered in her purpose.</p> + +<p>"It will be better than dying of starvation," she said. "Besides, it +will set you free."</p> + +<p>"Free?" Ruth gasped. "It will be a strange kind of freedom to find +oneself in a hostile world alone."</p> + +<p>"You will be able to defend yourself, Ruth, and I do not think anyone +will molest you."</p> + +<p>"Please don't imagine that I am afraid," Ruth answered defiantly. "But +you, mother, in that big, cheerless house, will break your heart," and +she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"No, don't fret, child," the mother said soothingly. "My heart cannot be +broken any more than it is already. Maybe I shall grow more cheerful +when I've had enough to eat."</p> + +<p>On the following day Ruth went with her mother in the workhouse van to +the big house. It was the most silent journey she ever took, and the +saddest. She would rather have followed her mother to the cemetery—at +least, so she thought at the time. There was such a big lump in her +throat that she could not talk. Her mother seemed only vaguely to +comprehend what the journey meant. Her eyes saw nothing on the way, her +thoughts were in some far-distant place. She got out of the van quite +nimbly when they reached the end of their journey, and stood for a +moment on the threshold as if undecided.</p> + +<p>"You had better not come in," she said at length. "We will say good-bye +here."</p> + +<p>"Do you think you can bear it, mother?" Ruth questioned, the tears +welling suddenly up into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," she answered, with a pathetic smile. "There'll be nothing to +worry about, you know, and I shall have plenty to eat."</p> + +<p>Ruth threw her arms about her mother's neck and burst into a passion of +tears. "Oh, I never thought we should come to this!" she sobbed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"<span class="smcap">Ruth threw her arms about her mother's neck and burst +into a passion of tears.</span>"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"It won't matter, my girl, when we are in heaven," was the quiet and +patient answer.</p> + +<p>"But we are not in heaven, mother. We are here on this wicked, cruel +earth, and it breaks my heart to see you suffer so."</p> + +<p>"My child, the suffering is in the past. The storm has done its worst. I +feel as though I couldn't worry any more. I am just going to be still +and wait."</p> + +<p>"I shall come and see you as often as I can," Ruth said, giving her +mother a final hug, "and you'll not lose heart, will you?"</p> + +<p>"No. I shall think of you and Ralph, and if there's a ray of hope +anywhere I shall cherish it."</p> + +<p>So they parted. Ruth watched her mother march away through a long +corridor in charge of an attendant, watched her till a door swung and +hid her from sight. Then, brushing her hand resolutely across her eyes, +she turned away to face the world alone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>DEVELOPMENTS</h3> + + +<p>The Penlogans' cottage had been empty two full days before the people of +St. Goram became aware that anything unusual had happened. That Ruth and +her mother were reduced to considerable straits was a matter of common +knowledge. People could not dispose of a quantity of their furniture +without the whole neighbourhood getting to know, and in several +quarters—notably at the Wheat Sheaf, and in Dick Lowry's smithy, and in +the shop of William Menire, general dealer—the question was discussed +as to how long the Penlogans could hold out, and what would become of +them in the end.</p> + +<p>To offer them charity was what no one had the courage to do, and for a +Penlogan to ask it was almost inconceivable. Since the event which had +landed Ralph in prison, Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth had withdrawn themselves +more than ever from public gaze. They evidently wanted to see no one, +and it was equally clear they desired no one to see them. What little +shopping they did was done after dark, and when Ruth went to chapel she +stole in late, and retired before the congregation could get a look at +her.</p> + +<p>Hence for two days no one noticed that no smoke appeared above the +chimney of the Penlogans' cottage, and that no one had been seen going +in or coming out of the house. On the third day, however, William +Menire—whose store they had patronised while they had any money to +spend—became uneasy in his mind on account of the non-appearance of +Ruth.</p> + +<p>His thoughts had been turned in her direction because he had been +expecting for some time that she would be asking for credit, and he had +seriously considered the matter as to what answer he should make. To +trust people who had no assets and no income was, on the face of it, a +very risky proceeding. On the other hand, Ruth Penlogan had such a sweet +and winning face, and was altogether so good to look upon, that he felt +he would have considerable difficulty in saying no to her. William was a +man who was rapidly reaching the old age of youth, and so far had +resisted successfully all the blandishments of the fair sex; but he had +to own to himself that if he were thrown much in the company of Ruth +Penlogan he would have to tighten up the rivets of his armour, or else +weakly and ignominiously surrender.</p> + +<p>While the Penlogans lived at Hillside he knew very little of them. They +did not deal with him, and he had no opportunity of making their +acquaintance. But since they came to the cottage Ruth had often been in +his shop to make some small purchase. He sold everything, from flour to +hob nails and from calico to mouse traps, and Ruth had found his shop in +this respect exceedingly convenient. It saved her from running all over +the village to make her few purchases.</p> + +<p>William had been impressed from the first by her gentle ways and her +refined manner of speech. She spoke with the tone and accent of the +quality, and had he not been informed who she was he would have taken +her for some visitor at one of the big houses.</p> + +<p>For two days William had watched with considerable interest for Ruth's +appearance. He felt that it did him good to look into her sweet, serious +eyes, and he had come to the conclusion that if she asked for credit he +would not be able to say no. He might have to wait for a considerable +time for his money, but after all money was not everything—the +friendship of a girl like Ruth Penlogan was surely worth something.</p> + +<p>As the third morning, however, wore away, and Ruth did not put in an +appearance, William—as we have seen—got a little anxious. And when his +mother—who kept house for him—was able to take his place behind the +counter, he took off his apron, put on his bowler hat, and stole away +through the village in the direction of St. Ivel.</p> + +<p>The cottage stood quite alone, just over the boundary of St. Goram +parish, and was almost hidden by a tall thorn hedge. As William drew +near he noticed that the chimneys were smokeless, and this did not help +to allay his anxiety. As he walked up to the door he noticed that none +of the blinds were drawn, and this in some measure reassured him.</p> + +<p>He knocked loudly with his knuckles, and waited. After awhile he knocked +again, and drew nearer the door and listened. A third time he knocked, +and then he began to get a little concerned. He next tried the handle, +and discovered that the door was locked.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is curious, to say the least of it," he reflected. "I hope +they are not both dead in the house together."</p> + +<p>After awhile he seized the door handle and gave the door a good rattle, +but no one responded to the assault, and with a puzzled expression in +his eyes William heaved a sigh, and began to retrace his steps towards +the village.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to Budda," he said to himself. "A policeman ought to know what +to do for the best. Anyhow, if a policeman breaks into a house, nobody +gets into trouble for it." And he quickened his pace till he was almost +out of breath.</p> + +<p>As good luck would have it, he met Budda half-way up the village, and at +once took him into his confidence.</p> + +<p>Budda put on an expression of great profundity.</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to break into the house," William said hurriedly.</p> + +<p>This proposition Budda negatived at once. To do what anyone else advised +would show lack of originality on the part of the force. If William had +suggested that they ask Dick Lowry the smith to pick the lock, Budda +would have gone at once and battered the door down. Initiative and +originality are the chief characteristics of the men in blue.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," said Budda, looking wise and stroking his chin with great +tenderness, "Amos Bice the auctioneer is the landlord, if I'm not +greatly mistook."</p> + +<p>"Then possibly he knows something?" William said anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Possibly he do," Budda answered oracularly. "I will walk on and see +him."</p> + +<p>"I will walk along with you," William replied. "I confess I'm getting a +bit curious. Everybody knows, of course, that they're terribly hard up, +though I must say they've paid cash down for everything got at my +store."</p> + +<p>"Been disposing of their furniture, I hear," Budda said shortly.</p> + +<p>"So it is reported," William replied. "That implies sore straits, and +they are not the sort of people, by all accounts, to ask for help."</p> + +<p>"Would die sooner," Budda replied laconically.</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps they're dead," William said, with a little gasp. "It must +be terrible hard for people who have known better days."</p> + +<p>Amos Bice looked up with a start when Budda and William Menire entered +his small office.</p> + +<p>"I have come to inquire," Budda began, quite ignoring his companion, "if +you know anything about—well, about what has become of the Penlogans?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I do—of course," he said, slowly and reflectively; though why he +should have added "of course" was not quite clear.</p> + +<p>William began to breathe a little more freely. Budda looked +disappointed. Budda revelled in mysteries, and when a mystery was +cleared up all the interest was taken out of it.</p> + +<p>"Then you know where they are?" Budda questioned shortly.</p> + +<p>"I know where the mother is—I am not so sure of the daughter. But +naturally it is not a matter that I care to talk about, particularly as +they did not wish their doings to be the subject of common gossip."</p> + +<p>"May I ask why you do not care to talk about them?" Budda questioned +severely.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's this way. I'm the owner of the cottage, as perhaps you know. +The rent is paid quarterly in advance. They paid their first quarter at +Michaelmas. The next was due, of course, at Christmas. Well, you see, I +found they were getting rid of their furniture rapidly, and in my own +interests I had naturally to put a stop to it. Well, this brought things +to a head. You see, the boy is in prison awaiting his trial, the mother +is ailing, and the girl has found no way yet of earning her living, or +hadn't a week ago. So, being brought to a full stop, they had to face +the question and submit to the inevitable. I took all the furniture at a +valuation—in fact, for a good deal more than it was worth—and after +subtracting the rent, handed them over the balance. Mr. Thomas got an +order for the old lady to go into the workhouse, and the girl, as I +understand, is going to try to get a place in domestic service."</p> + +<p>William Menire almost groaned. The idea of this sweet, gentle, ladylike +girl being an ordinary domestic drudge seemed almost an outrage.</p> + +<p>"And how long ago is all this?" Budda asked severely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, just the day before yesterday. No, let me see. It was the day +before that."</p> + +<p>"And you have said nothing about it?"</p> + +<p>"It was no business of mine to gossip over other people's affairs."</p> + +<p>"They seem to have been very brave people," William remarked timidly.</p> + +<p>"What some people would call proud," the auctioneer replied. "Not that I +object. I like to see people showing a little proper pride. Some people +would have boasted that they had heaps of money coming to them, and +would have gone into debt everywhere. The Penlogans wouldn't buy a thing +they couldn't pay for."</p> + +<p>"It's what I call a great come down for them," Budda remarked +sententiously; and then the two men took their departure, Budda to +spread the news of the Penlogans' last descent in the social scale, and +William to meditate more or less sadly on the chances of human life.</p> + +<p>Before the church clock pointed to the hour of noon all St. Goram was +agog with the news, and for the rest of the day little else was talked +about. People were very sorry, of course—at any rate, they said they +were; they paid lip service to the god of convention. It was a great +come down for people who had occupied a good position, but the ways of +Providence were very mysterious, and their duty was to be very grateful +that no such calamity had overtaken them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>A CONFESSION</h3> + + +<p>The vicar was in the throes of a new sermon when the news reached him. +He had been at work on the sermon all the day, for its delivery was to +be a great effort. Hence, it was long after dark before the tidings +filtered through to his study.</p> + +<p>Mr. Seccombe laid down his pen, and looked thoughtful. The news sent his +thoughts running along an entirely new track. The thread of his sermon +was cut clean through, and every effort he made to pick up the ends and +splice them proved a dismal failure. From the triumphs of grace his +thoughts drifted away to the mysteries of Providence.</p> + +<p>He pulled himself up with a jerk at length. How much had God to do, +after all, with what men called Providence? Was it the purpose of God +that his boy Julian should grow into a fighter? Was it part of the same +purpose that he should be killed in a distant land by an Arab's lance; +that out of that should grow the commercial ruin of one of the +saintliest men in the parish; and that his wife, in the closing years of +her life, should be driven into the cold shadow of the workhouse?</p> + +<p>John Seccombe got up from his chair and began to pace up and down the +study.</p> + +<p>He was interrupted in his meditations by a feeble knock on his study +door.</p> + +<p>"Come in," he said, pausing in his walk; and he waited a little +impatiently for the door to open.</p> + +<p>"A young man wants to see you, sir," the housemaid said, opening the +door just wide enough to show her face.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. He did not give any name."</p> + +<p>"Some shy young man who wants to get married, I expect," was the thought +that passed through Mr. Seccombe's mind.</p> + +<p>"Show him in," he said, after a pause. And a moment or two later a +pale-faced young man came shyly and hesitatingly into the room. He +carried a cloth cap in his hand, and was dressed in a badly fitting suit +of tweed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Seccombe looked at him for a moment inquiringly. He thought he knew, +by sight, nearly everybody in the parish, but he was not sure that he +had seen this young man before.</p> + +<p>"Will you take a seat?" he said, anxious to put the young man at his +ease; for he was still convinced that this was a timid bachelor, who +wanted to make arrangements for getting married.</p> + +<p>"I would prefer to stand, if you don't mind," he answered, toying +nervously with his cap.</p> + +<p>"As you will," the vicar said, with a smile. "I presume you are about to +take to yourself a wife?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Oh dear, no. I've something else to think of."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," the vicar said, feeling a little confused. "I +thought, perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"Nothing so pleasant," was the hurried answer. "The fact is, I've come +upon a job that—well, I hardly know if I can tell it, now I've come."</p> + +<p>The vicar began to feel interested.</p> + +<p>"You had better take a seat," he said. "You will feel more comfortable."</p> + +<p>The young man dropped into an easy-chair and stared at the fire. He was +not a bad-looking young fellow. His face was pale, as though he worked +underground, and his cheeks were thin enough to suggest too little +nourishing food.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, I only made up my mind an hour ago," he said abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" the vicar said encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"You have heard of that poor woman being carried off to the workhouse, I +expect."</p> + +<p>"You mean Mrs. Penlogan?"</p> + +<p>"Ay! Well, that floored me. I felt that I could hold out no longer. I +meant to have waited to see which way the trial went——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" the vicar said again, seeing he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I've always believed that no jury that wasn't prejudiced would convict +him on the evidence."</p> + +<p>"You refer to Ralph Penlogan, of course?"</p> + +<p>"The young man who's in prison on the charge of shooting Squire Hamblyn. +Do you think he's anything like me?"</p> + +<p>"You certainly are not unlike him in the general outline of your face. +But, of course, anyone who knows young Penlogan——"</p> + +<p>"Would never mistake him for me," the other interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say not, certainly."</p> + +<p>"And yet bigger mistakes have been made. But I'd better tell you the +whole story. I don't know what'll become of mother and the young ones, +but I can't bear it any longer, and that's a fact. When I heard that +that poor woman had been took off to the workhouse, I said to myself, +'Jim Brewer, you're a coward.' And that's the reason I'm here——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said the vicar again, and waited for his visitor to proceed.</p> + +<p>"It was I who shot the squire!"</p> + +<p>The vicar started, but did not speak.</p> + +<p>"I had no notion that he was about, or I shouldn't have ventured into +the plantation, you may be quite sure. I was after anything I could +get—hare, or rabbit, or pheasant, or barnyard fowl, if nothing else +turned up."</p> + +<p>"Then you were poaching?" said the vicar.</p> + +<p>"Call it anything you like, but if you was in my place, maybe you'd have +done the same. There hadn't been a bit of fresh meat in our house for a +fortnight, and little Fred, who'd been ill, was just pining away. You +see I'd been off work, through crushing my thumb, for a whole month, and +we'd got to the end of the tether. Butcher wouldn't trust us no further, +and we'd been living on dry bread and a little skimmed milk, with a +vegetable now and then. It was terrible hard on us all. I didn't mind +myself so much, but to see the little one go hungry——"</p> + +<p>"But what does your father do?" the vicar interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Father was killed in the mine six years agone, and I've been the only +one as has earned anything since. Well, you see, I took the old +musket—though I knew, of course, I had no licence—and I went out on +the common to shoot anything as came in the way—but nothing turned up. +Then I went into the plantation, and as I was getting over a hedge I +came face to face with the squire.</p> + +<p>"Well, I draws back in a moment, and that very moment something catches +the trigger, and off the gun went. A minute after I heard the squire +a-howling and a-screaming like mad, and when next I looks over the hedge +he was running for dear life and shouting at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, I just hid myself in the 'browse' till it was dark, and then I +creeps home empty-handed and never said a word to nobody. Well, next +day, in the mine, I hears as how young Penlogan had been took up on the +charge of trying to murder the squire. I never thought nobody would +convict him, and if I'd been in the police court when he were sent to +the Assizes I couldn't have kept the truth back. But you see I weren't +there, and I says to myself that no jury with two ounces of brains will +say he's guilty; and so I reckon I'd have held out till the Assizes if I +hadn't heard they'd took his poor old mother off to the workhouse. That +finished me. I says to myself, 'Jim Brewer, you're a coward,' I says, +and I made up my mind then and there to tell the truth. And so I've come +to you, being a parson and a magistrate. And the story I've told you is +gospel truth, as sure as I'm a living man."</p> + +<p>"It seems a very great pity you did not tell this story before," the +vicar said reflectively.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's true enough. But I hadn't the courage somehow. You see, I +made sure he'd come out all right in the end; and then I thought of +mother and little Fred, and Jack and Mary and Peggy, and somehow I +couldn't bring myself to face it. It was the poor woman being drove to +the workhouse as did it. I think I'd rather die than that my mother +should go there."</p> + +<p>"I really can't see, for the life of me, why you working people so much +object to the workhouse," the vicar said, in a tone of irritation. "It's +a very comfortable house; the inmates are well treated in every way, and +there isn't a pauper in the House to-day that isn't better off than when +outside."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it's the name of it, sir," the young man went on. "But I feel +terrible bitter against the place. But the point now is, what are we +going to do with Ralph Penlogan, and what are you going to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, really I hardly know," the vicar said, looking uncomfortable. +"You do not own to committing any crime. You were trespassing, +certainly—perhaps I ought to say poaching. But—well, I think I ought +to consult Mr. Tregonning, and—well, yes—Budda. Would you mind waiting +while I send and ask Mr. Tregonning to come on?"</p> + +<p>"No; I'll do anything you wish. Now I've started, I want to go straight +on to the end."</p> + +<p>Mr. Seccombe was back again in a few moments.</p> + +<p>"May I ask," he said, with his eyes on the carpet, "if you saw anyone on +the afternoon in question, or if anyone saw you?"</p> + +<p>"Only Bilkins."</p> + +<p>"He's one of Sir John's gardeners, I think."</p> + +<p>"Very likely."</p> + +<p>"And you were in the plantation when he saw you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; I was on the common."</p> + +<p>"And you were carrying the gun?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I pushed it into a furze bush when he come along, for, +as I told you, I had no gun licence."</p> + +<p>"Did he speak to you?"</p> + +<p>"Ay. He passed the time of day, and asked if I had any sport."</p> + +<p>"And you saw no one else?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody but the squire."</p> + +<p>Later in the day Bilkins was sent for, and arrived at the vicarage much +wondering what was in the wind. He wondered still more when he was +ushered into the vicar's library, and found himself face to face with +Budda, Mr. Tregonning, and Jim Brewer, in addition to the vicar. For +several moments he looked from one to another with an expression of +utter astonishment on his face.</p> + +<p>"I have sent for you, Bilkins," said the vicar mildly, "in order to ask +you one or two questions that seem of some importance at the present +moment."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Bilkins, looking, if possible, more puzzled than +before.</p> + +<p>"Can you recall the afternoon on which Sir John Hamblyn was shot?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, sir. Very well, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you cross Polskiddy Downs that afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anybody on the downs?"</p> + +<p>"Well, only Jim Brewer. We met accidental like."</p> + +<p>"What was he doing?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he wasn't doing nothing. He was just standing still with his +'ands in his pockets lookin' round him and whistlin'."</p> + +<p>"Was he carrying a gun?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, sir. He had nothin' in his 'ands."</p> + +<p>"Did you see a gun?"</p> + +<p>Bilkins glanced apprehensively at Jim Brewer, and then at the policeman.</p> + +<p>"Well, no," he said, with considerable hesitation. "I didn't see no +gun—that is——"</p> + +<p>"Did you see any part of a gun?" Mr. Tregonning interjected.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I don't wish to do no 'arm to nobody," Bilkins stammered, +growing very red, "but I did see somethin' stickin' out of a furze bush +as might have been a gun."</p> + +<p>"The stock of a gun, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no; but it might 'ave been the barrel."</p> + +<p>"You did not say anything to Brewer?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I might, as a kind of joke, 'ave axed him if he 'ad any sport, +but it weren't my place to be inquisitive."</p> + +<p>"And was this far from the plantation?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; it were almost close."</p> + +<p>"Then why, may I ask," interjected the vicar sternly, "did you not +volunteer this information when the question was raised as to who shot +your master?"</p> + +<p>"Never thought on it, sir. Jim Brewer is a chap as couldn't hurt +nobody."</p> + +<p>"And yet the fact remains that you saw him close to the plantation on +the afternoon on which Sir John was shot, and that no one saw Ralph +Penlogan near the place."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Bilkins said vacantly.</p> + +<p>"But what explanation or excuse have you to offer for such dereliction +of duty?"</p> + +<p>"For what, sir?"</p> + +<p>"You must know, surely, that information was sought in all directions +that would throw any light on the question."</p> + +<p>"No one axed me anything, sir."</p> + +<p>"But you might have told what you knew without being asked."</p> + +<p>Bilkins looked perplexed, and remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not inform someone of what you had seen?" Mr. Tregonning +interposed.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, sir, Sir John had made up his mind as 'twas young +Penlogan as shot him. He see'd his face as he was a-climbing over the +hedge, an' he ought to know; and besides, sir, it ain't my place to +contradict my betters."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" And Mr. Tregonning, as one of his "betters," looked almost +as puzzled as Bilkins.</p> + +<p>After a few more questions had been asked and answered, there was a +general adjournment to Hamblyn Manor.</p> + +<p>Sir John was on the point of retiring for the night when he was startled +by a loud ringing of the door bell, and a moment or two later he heard +the vicar's voice in the hall.</p> + +<p>Throwing open the library door, he came face to face with Mr. Seccombe +and Mr. Tregonning, two or three shadowy figures bringing up the rear.</p> + +<p>"We must ask your pardon, Sir John, for intruding at this late hour," +the vicar said, constituting himself chief spokesman, "but Mr. +Tregonning and myself felt that the matter was of so much importance +that there ought to be not an hour's unnecessary delay."</p> + +<p>"Indeed; will you come into the library?" Sir John said pompously, +though he felt not a little curious as to what was in the wind.</p> + +<p>Standing with his back against the mantelpiece, Sir John motioned his +visitors to seats. Budda, however, elected to stand guard over the door.</p> + +<p>For several moments there was silence, while the vicar looked at Mr. +Tregonning and Mr. Tregonning looked at the vicar.</p> + +<p>At last they appeared to understand each other, and the vicar cleared +his throat.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Sir John," he began, "I was interrupted in my work this +evening by a visit from this young man"—inclining his head toward +Brewer—"who informed me that it was he who shot you, accidentally, on +the 29th September last——"</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense," Sir John snapped, withdrawing his shoulders +suddenly from the mantelpiece. "Do you think I don't know a face when I +see it?"</p> + +<p>"And yet, sir, it were my face you saw," Brewer interposed suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Don't believe it," Sir John replied, with a snort.</p> + +<p>"You must admit, sir," Mr. Tregonning interposed apologetically, "that +this young man is not unlike Ralph Penlogan."</p> + +<p>"No more like him than I am," Sir John retorted, almost angrily.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, you had better hear the story from the young man's lips," said +the vicar mildly, "then your own man Bilkins will give evidence that he +saw him close to the plantation on the afternoon in question."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you not say so?" Sir John snarled, glaring angrily at his +gardener.</p> + +<p>"'Tweren't for the likes of me," Bilkins said humbly, "to say anything +as would seem to contradict what you said. I hopes I know my place."</p> + +<p>"I hope you do," Sir John growled; and then he turned his attention to +the young miner.</p> + +<p>Brewer told his story straightforwardly and without any outward sign of +nervousness. He had braced himself to the task—his nerves were strung +up to the highest point of tension, and he was determined to see the +thing through now, cost what it might.</p> + +<p>Sir John listened with half-closed eyes and a heavy frown upon his brow. +He was far more angry than he would like anyone to know at the course +events were taking. He saw clearly enough that, from his point of view, +this was worse than a verdict of "not guilty" at the Assizes. This +story, if accepted, would clear Ralph Penlogan absolutely. Not even the +shadow of a suspicion would remain. Moreover, it would lay him (Sir +John) open to the charge of vindictiveness.</p> + +<p>As soon as Brewer had finished the story, the squire subjected him to a +severe and lengthy cross-examination, all of which he bore with quiet +composure, and every question he answered simply and directly.</p> + +<p>Then Bilkins was called upon to tell his story, which Sir John listened +to with evident disgust.</p> + +<p>It was getting decidedly late when all the questions had been asked and +answered, and Budda was growing impatient to know what part he was to +play in the little drama. He was itching to arrest somebody. It would +have been a relief to him if he could have arrested both Brewer and +Bilkins.</p> + +<p>Sir John and his brother magistrates withdrew at length to another room, +while Budda kept guard with renewed vigilance.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the vicar, when the door had closed behind the trio, "what +is the next step?"</p> + +<p>"Let the law take its course," said Sir John angrily.</p> + +<p>"It will take its course in any case," said Mr. Tregonning. "The +confession of Brewer, and the corroborative evidence of Bilkins, must be +forwarded at once to the proper quarter. But the question is, Sir John, +will you still hold to the charge of malicious shooting, or only of +trespass?"</p> + +<p>"If this story is accepted, I'll wash my hands of the whole +business—there now!" And Sir John pushed his hands into his pockets and +looked furious.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite see why you should treat the matter in this way," the +vicar said mildly.</p> + +<p>"You don't?" Sir John questioned, staring hard at him. "You don't see +that it will make fools of the whole lot of us; that it will turn the +tide of popular sympathy against the entire bench of magistrates, and +against me in particular; that it will do more harm to the gentry than +fifty elections?"</p> + +<p>"That's a very narrow view to take," the vicar said, with spirit. "We +should care for the right and do the right, though the heavens fall."</p> + +<p>"That may be all right to preach in church," Sir John said irritably, +"but in practical life we do the best we can for ourselves, unless we +are fools."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll not proceed against this young man for trespass?" Mr. +Tregonning inquired.</p> + +<p>"I tell you I'll wash my hands of the whole affair, and I mean it. It's +bad enough to be made a fool of once, without playing the same game a +second time," and Sir John strutted round the room like an angered +turkey.</p> + +<p>"Then there's no excuse for keeping young Brewer here any longer, or of +keeping you out of your bed," said the vicar, and he made for the door, +followed by Mr. Tregonning.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the door closed on his guests, and Sir John found +himself once more alone.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is a kettle of fish," he said to himself angrily, as he +paced up and down the room; "a most infernal kettle of fish, I call it. +I shouldn't be surprised if before a week is out that young scoundrel +will be heralded by a brass band playing 'See the Conquering Hero +comes.' And, of course, every ounce of sympathy will go out to him. +He'll be a kind of martyr, and I shall be execrated as a kind of Legree +and Judge Jeffreys rolled into one. And then, of course, Dorothy will +catch the popular contagion, and will interview him if she has the +chance; and he'll make love to her—the villain! And here's Lord Probus +bullying me, and every confounded money-lending Jew in the neighbourhood +dunning me for money, and Geoffrey taking to extravagant ways with more +alacrity than I did before him. I wonder if any other man in the county +is humbugged as I am?"</p> + +<p>Sir John spent the rest of the waking hours of that night in scheming +how best he could get and keep Dorothy out of the way of Ralph Penlogan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>A SILENT WELCOME</h3> + + +<p>If a man is unfortunate enough to find himself in the clutches of what +is euphemistically called "the law," the sooner and the more completely +he can school himself to patience the better for his peace of mind. +Lawyers and legislators do not appear generally to be of a mechanical +turn, and the huge machine which they have constructed for the purpose +of discovering and punishing criminals is apparently without any +reversing gear. The machine will go forward ponderously and cumbrously, +but it will not go backward without an infinite amount of toil and +trouble. Hence, if a man is once caught in its toils, even though he is +innocent, he will, generally speaking, have to go through the mill and +come out at the far end. For such a small and remote contingency as a +miscarriage of justice there is apparently no provision. If the wronged +and deluded man will only have patience, he will come out of the mill in +due course; and if he is but civil, he will be rewarded with a free +pardon and told not to do it again.</p> + +<p>The generosity of the State in compensating those who have been +wrongfully convicted and punished has grown into a proverb. In some +instances they have been actually released before their time has +expired—which, of course, has meant a considerable amount of work for +those who had control of the mill; and work to the highly paid officials +of the State is little less to be dreaded than the plague.</p> + +<p>The whole country had been ringing with Jim Brewer's story for more than +a week before the law officers of the Crown condescended to look at the +matter at all, and when they did look at it they saw so many +technicalities in the way, and so much red tape to be unwound, that +their hearts failed them. It seemed very inconsiderate of this Jim +Brewer to speak at all after he had kept silent so long, particularly as +the Grand Jury would so soon have the case before them.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Ralph was waiting with as much patience as he could command +for the day of the trial. That he would be found guilty he could not +bring himself to believe. The more he reviewed the case, the more angry +and disgusted he felt with the local Solomons who had sat in judgment on +him. He was disposed almost to blame them more than he blamed the +squire. Sir John might have some grounds for supposing that he (Ralph) +had deliberately fired at him. But that the great unpaid of St. Goram +and neighbouring parishes could be so blind and stupid filled him with +disgust.</p> + +<p>For himself, he did not mind the long delay so much; but as the days +grew into weeks, his anxiety respecting his mother and Ruth grew into +torment. He knew that their little spare cash could not possibly hold +out many weeks, and then what would happen?</p> + +<p>He had heard nothing from them for a long time, and Bodmin was so far +away from St. Goram that they could not visit him. He wondered if they +had reached such straits that they could not afford a postage stamp. The +more he speculated on the matter the more alarmed he got. The letters he +had been allowed to send had received no answer. And it seemed so unlike +his mother and Ruth to remain silent if they were able to write.</p> + +<p>Of Jim Brewer's story he knew nothing, for newspapers did not come his +way, and none of the prison officials had the kindness to tell him. So +he waited and wondered as the slow days crept painfully past, and grew +thin and hollow-eyed, and wished that he had never been born.</p> + +<p>The end came nearly a month after Jim Brewer had told his story. He was +condescendingly informed one morning that his innocence having been +clearly established, the Crown would offer no evidence in support of the +charge, and the Grand Jury had therefore thrown out the bill of +indictment. This would mean his immediate liberation.</p> + +<p>For several moments he felt unable to speak, and he sat down and hid his +face in his hands. Then slowly the meaning of the words he had listened +to began to take shape in his mind.</p> + +<p>"You say my innocence has been established?" he questioned at length.</p> + +<p>"That is so."</p> + +<p>"By what means?"</p> + +<p>The governor told him without unnecessary words.</p> + +<p>"How long ago was this?"</p> + +<p>"I do not quite know. Not many weeks I think."</p> + +<p>"Not many weeks! Good heavens! You mean that I have been allowed to +suffer in this inferno after my innocence was established?"</p> + +<p>"With that I have nothing to do. Better quietly and thankfully take your +departure."</p> + +<p>Ralph raised a pair of blazing eyes, then turned on his heel. He felt as +though insult had been heaped upon insult.</p> + +<p>His brain seemed almost on fire when at length he stepped through the +heavy portal and found himself face to face with William Menire.</p> + +<p>Ralph stared at him for several moments in astonishment. Why, of all the +people in the world, should William Menire come to meet him? They had +never been friends—they could scarcely be called acquaintances.</p> + +<p>William, however, did not allow him to pursue this train of thought. +Springing forward at once, he grasped Ralph by the hand.</p> + +<p>"I made inquiries," he said, speaking rapidly, "and I couldn't find out +that anybody was coming to meet you. And I thought you might feel a bit +lonely and cheerless, for the weather is nipping cold. So I brought a +warm rug with me, and I've ordered breakfast at the King's Arms; for +there ain't no train till a quarter-past ten, and we'll be home by——"</p> + +<p>Then he stopped suddenly, for Ralph had burst into tears.</p> + +<p>The prison fare, the iron hand of the law, the bitter injustice he had +suffered so long, had only hardened him. He had shed not a single tear +during all the months of his incarceration. But this touch of human +kindness from one who was almost a stranger broke him down completely, +and he hid his face in his hands, and sobbed outright.</p> + +<p>William looked at him in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"I hope I have not said anything that's hurt you?" he questioned +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No, no," Ralph said chokingly. "It's your kindness that has unmanned me +for a moment. You are almost a stranger, and I have no claim upon you +whatever." And he began to sob afresh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, if that's all, I don't mind," William said, with a cheerful +smile. "You see, we are neighbours—at least we were. And if a man can't +do a neighbourly deed when he has a chance, he ain't worth much."</p> + +<p>Ralph lifted his head at length, and wiped his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for being so weak," he said. "But I didn't expect——"</p> + +<p>"Of course you didn't," William interrupted. "I knew it would be a +surprise to you. But hadn't we better be going? I don't want the +breakfast at the King's Arms to get cold."</p> + +<p>"A word first," Ralph said eagerly. "Are my mother and sister well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, your mother is only middling—nothing serious. But the weather's +been very trying, and her appetite's nothing to speak of. And, you see, +she's worried a good deal about you."</p> + +<p>"And my sister?" he interposed.</p> + +<p>"She's very well, I believe. But let's get out of sight of this place, +or it'll be getting on my nerves."</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later they were seated in a cosy room before an +appetising breakfast of steaming ham and eggs.</p> + +<p>Ralph had a difficulty in keeping the tears back. The pleasant room, +hung with pictures, the cheerful fire crackling in the grate, the white +tablecloth and dainty china and polished knives and forks, the hot, +fragrant tea and the delicious ham, were such a contrast from what he +had endured so long, that he felt for a moment or two as if his emotion +would completely overcome him.</p> + +<p>William wisely did not look at him, but gave all his attention to the +victuals, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of seeing his guest +doing full justice to the fare.</p> + +<p>During the journey home they talked mainly about what had happened in +St. Goram since Ralph went away, but William could not bring himself to +tell him the truth about his mother. Again and again he got to the +point, and then his courage failed him.</p> + +<p>At St. Ivel Road, William's trap was waiting for them, and they drove +the two miles to St. Goram in silence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Ralph reached out his hand as if to grasp the reins.</p> + +<p>"You are driving past our house," he said, in a tone of suppressed +excitement.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's all right," William answered, in a tone of apparent +unconcern. "They're not there now."</p> + +<p>"Not there?" he questioned, with a gasp.</p> + +<p>"No. You'll come along with me for a bit."</p> + +<p>"But I do not understand," Ralph said, turning eager eyes on William's +face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll explain directly. But look at the crowd of folk."</p> + +<p>William had to bring his horse to a standstill, for the road was +completely blocked. There was no shouting or hurrahing; no band to play +"See the Conquering Hero comes." But the men uncovered their heads, and +tears were running down the women's faces.</p> + +<p>Ralph had to get out of the trap to steer his way as best he could to +William's store. It was a slow and painful process, and yet it had its +compensations. Children tugged at his coat-tails, and hard-fisted men +squeezed his hand in silence, and women held up their chubby babies to +him to be kissed, and young fellows his own age whispered a word of +welcome. It was far more impressive than a noisy demonstration or the +martial strains of a brass band. Of the sympathy of the people there +could be no doubt whatever. Everybody realised now that he had been +cruelly treated—that the suspicion that rested on him at first was base +and unworthy; that he was not the kind of man to do a mean or cowardly +deed; and that the wrong that was done was of a kind that could never be +repaired.</p> + +<p>They wondered as they crowded round him whether he knew of the crowning +humiliation and wrong. The workhouse was a place that most of them +regarded with horror. To become a pauper was to suffer the last +indignity. There was nothing beyond it—no further reproach or shame.</p> + +<p>It was the knowledge that Ralph's mother was in the workhouse, and that +his little home had been broken up—perhaps for ever—that checked the +shout and turned what might have been laughter into tears. Any attempt +at merriment would have been a mockery under such circumstances. They +were glad to see Ralph back again—infinitely glad; but knowing what +they did, the pathos of his coming touched them to the quick.</p> + +<p>Very few words were spoken, but tears fell like rain. Ralph wondered, as +he pressed his way forward toward William Menire's shop, and yet he had +not the courage to ask any questions. Behind the people's silent +sympathy he felt there was something that had not yet been revealed. But +what it was he could not guess. That his mother and Ruth were alive, he +knew, for William had told him so. Perhaps something had happened in St. +Goram that William had not told him, which affected others more than it +affected him.</p> + +<p>William went in front and elbowed a passage for Ralph.</p> + +<p>"We be fine an' glad to see 'ee 'ome again," people whispered here and +there, and Ralph would smile and say "Thank you," and then push on +again.</p> + +<p>William was in a perfect fever of excitement. He had been hoping almost +against hope all the day. Whether his little scheme had succeeded or +miscarried, he could not tell yet. He would know only when he crossed +his own threshold. What his little scheme was he had confided to no one. +If it failed, he could still comfort himself with the thought that he +had done his best. But he still hoped and prayed that what he had tried +so hard to accomplish had come to pass.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>WILLIAM MENIRE'S RED-LETTER DAY</h3> + + +<p>The crowd pressed close to the door of William's shop, but no one dared +to enter. Ralph followed close upon his heels, still wondering and +fearing. William lifted the flap of his counter and opened the door of +the living-room beyond. No sooner had he done so than his heart gave a +sudden bound. Ruth Penlogan came forward with pale face and eyes full of +tears.</p> + +<p>William's little plan had succeeded. Ruth was present to receive her +brother. William tried to speak, but his voice failed him, and with a +sudden rush of tears he turned back into the shop, closing the door +behind him.</p> + +<p>Ruth fell on her brother's neck, and began to sob. He led her to a +large, antiquated sofa, and sat down by her side. He did not speak. He +could wait till she had recovered herself. She dried her eyes at length +and looked up into his face.</p> + +<p>"You did not expect to see me here?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"No, I did not, Ruth; but where is mother?"</p> + +<p>"Has he not told you?"</p> + +<p>"Told me? She is not dead, is she?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. She would be happier if she were. Oh, Ralph, it breaks my +heart. I wish we had all died when father was taken."</p> + +<p>"But where is she, Ruth? What has happened? Do tell me."</p> + +<p>"She is in the workhouse, Ralph."</p> + +<p>He sprang to his feet as though he had been shot.</p> + +<p>"Ruth, you lie!" he said, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>She began to sob again, and he stood looking at her with white, drawn +face, and a fierce, passionate gleam in his eyes.</p> + +<p>For several moments no other word passed between them. Then he sat down +by her side again.</p> + +<p>"There was no help for it," she sobbed at length. "And mother was quite +content and eager to go."</p> + +<p>"And you allowed it, Ruth," he said, in a tone of reproach.</p> + +<p>"What could I do, Ralph?" she questioned plaintively. "We had spent all, +and the landlord stopped us from selling any more furniture. The parish +would allow her half a crown a week, which would not pay the rent, and I +could get nothing to do."</p> + +<p>He gulped down a lump that had risen in his throat, and clenched his +hands, but he did not speak.</p> + +<p>"She said there was no disgrace in going into the House," Ruth went on; +"that father had paid rates for more than five-and-twenty years, and +that she had a right to all she would get, and a good deal more."</p> + +<p>"Rights go for nothing in this world," he said bitterly. "It is the +strong who win."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Menire told me this morning that her son would have trusted us to +any amount and for any length of time if he had only known."</p> + +<p>"You did not ask him?"</p> + +<p>"Mother would never consent," she replied. "Besides, Mr. Menire is a +comparative stranger to us."</p> + +<p>"That is true, and yet he has been a true friend to me to-day."</p> + +<p>"I hesitated about accepting his hospitality," Ruth answered, with her +eyes upon the floor. "He sent word yesterday that he had learned you +were to be liberated this morning, and that he was going to Bodmin to +meet you and bring you back, and that his mother would be glad to offer +me hospitality if I would like to meet you here."</p> + +<p>"It was very kind of him, Ruth; but where are you living?"</p> + +<p>"I am in service, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"It is quite true. I was bound to earn my living somehow."</p> + +<p>He laughed a bitter laugh.</p> + +<p>"Prison, workhouse, and domestic service! What may we get to next, do +you think?"</p> + +<p>"But we have not gone into debt or cheated anybody, and we've kept our +consciences clean, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ours is a case of virtue rewarded," he answered cynically. +"Honesty sent to prison, and thrift to the workhouse."</p> + +<p>"But we haven't done with life and the world yet."</p> + +<p>"You think there are lower depths in store for us?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not. We may begin to rise now. Let us not despair, Ralph. +Suffering should purify and strengthen us."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how suffering wrongly or unjustly can do anybody any good," +he answered moodily.</p> + +<p>"Nor can I at present. Perhaps we shall see later on. There is one great +joy amid all our grief. Your name has been cleared."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is something—better than a verdict of acquittal, eh?" and a +softer light came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I would rather be in our place, Ralph, bitter and humiliating as it is, +than take the place of the oppressor."</p> + +<p>"You are thinking of Sir John Hamblyn?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"They say he is being oppressed now," she answered, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"By whom?"</p> + +<p>"The money-lenders. Rumour says that he has lost heavily on the Turf and +on the Stock Exchange—whatever that may be—and that he is hard put to +it to keep his creditors at bay."</p> + +<p>"That may account in some measure for his hardness to others."</p> + +<p>"He hoped to retrieve his position, it is said, by marrying his daughter +to Lord Probus," Ruth went on, "but she refuses to keep her promise."</p> + +<p>"What?" he exclaimed, with a sudden gasp.</p> + +<p>"How much of the gossip is true, of course, nobody knows, or rather how +much of it isn't true—for it is certain she has refused to marry him; +and Lord Probus is so mad that he refused to speak to Sir John or have +anything to do with him."</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled broadly.</p> + +<p>"What has become of Miss Dorothy is not quite clear. Some people say +that Sir John has sent her to a convent school in France. Others say +that she has gone off of her own free will, and taken a situation as a +governess under an assumed name."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure she isn't at the Manor?" he questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure. The servants talk very freely about it. Sir John stormed +and swore, and threatened all manner of things, but she held her own. He +shouted so loudly sometimes that they could not help hearing what he +said. Miss Dorothy was very calm, but very determined. He taunted her +with being in love with somebody else——"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"She must have had a very hard time of it by what the servants say. It +is to be hoped she has peace now she has got away."</p> + +<p>"Sir John is a brute," Ralph said bitterly. "He has no mercy on anybody, +not even on his own flesh and blood."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it always true that 'with what measure ye mete it shall be +measured to you again'?" Ruth questioned, looking up into his face.</p> + +<p>"It may be," he answered, "and yet many people suffer injustice who have +never meted it out to others."</p> + +<p>For a while silence fell between them, then looking up into his face she +said—</p> + +<p>"Have you any plans for the future, Ralph?"</p> + +<p>"A good many, Ruth, but the chances are they will come to nothing. One +thing my prison experience has allowed me, and that is time to think. If +I can work out half my dreams there will be topsy-turvydom in St. +Goram." And he smiled again.</p> + +<p>"Then you have not given up hope?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite, Ruth. But first of all I must see mother and get her out of +the workhouse."</p> + +<p>"You will have to earn some money and take a house first. You see, +everything has gone, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"Which means an absolutely fresh start, and from the bottom," he +answered. "But never mind, when you build from the bottom you are pretty +sure of your foundation."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it does me good to hear you talk like that," she said, the tears +coming into her eyes again.</p> + +<p>"I hope I'm not altogether a coward, sis," he said, with a smile. "It'll +be a hard struggle, I know; but, at any rate, I have something to live +for."</p> + +<p>"That's bravely said." And she leant over and kissed him.</p> + +<p>"Now we must stop talking, and act," he went on. "I must get William +Menire to lend me his trap, and I must drive over to see mother."</p> + +<p>"That will be lovely, for then I can ride with you, for I must be in by +seven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"This is an extra day off, you know."</p> + +<p>"Are you cook, or housemaid, or what?"</p> + +<p>"I am sewing maid," she answered. "The Varcoes have a big family of +children, you know, and I have really as much as I can do with the +making and mending."</p> + +<p>"What, Varcoes the Quakers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And they have really been exceedingly kind to me. They took me +without references, and have done their best to make me comfortable. +There are some good people in the world, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"It would be a sorry world if there weren't," he answered. And then +William Menire and his mother entered.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later a substantial dinner was served, and for the next +hour William fluttered about his guests unmindful of how his customers +fared.</p> + +<p>Had not Ralph been so busy with his own thoughts, and Ruth so taken up +with her brother, they would have both seen in what direction William's +inclinations lay. He would gladly have kept them both if he could, and +hailed their presence as a dispensation of Providence. Ruth looked +lovelier in William's eyes than she had ever done, and to be her friend +was the supreme ambition of his life.</p> + +<p>He insisted on driving them to St. Hilary, but demanded as a first +condition that Ralph should return with him to St. Goram.</p> + +<p>"You can stay here," he said, "until you can get work or suit yourself +with better lodgings. You can't sleep in the open air, and you may as +well stay with me as with anybody else."</p> + +<p>This, on the face of it, seemed a reasonable enough proposition, and +with this understanding Ralph climbed into the back of the trap, Ruth +riding on the front seat with William.</p> + +<p>Never did a driver feel more proud than William felt that afternoon. It +was not that he was doing a kindly and neighbourly deed; there was much +more in his jubilation than that. He had by his side, so he believed, +the fairest girl in the three parishes. William watched with no ordinary +interest and curiosity the face of everyone they met, and when he saw +some admiring pairs of eyes resting upon his companion, his own eyes +sparkled with a brighter light.</p> + +<p>William thought very little of Ralph, who was sitting at his back, and +who kept up a conversation with Ruth over his left shoulder. It was Ruth +who filled his thoughts and awakened in his heart a new and strange +sensation. He did not talk himself. He was content to listen, content to +catch the sweet undertone of a voice that was sweeter and softer than +St. Goram bells on a stormy night; content to feel, when the trap +lurched, the pressure of Ruth's arm against his own.</p> + +<p>He did not drive rapidly. Why should he? This was a red-letter day in +the grey monotony of his life, a day to be remembered when business was +bad and profits small, and his mother's temper had more rough edges in +it than usual.</p> + +<p>So he let his horse amble along at its own sweet will. They would return +at a much smarter pace.</p> + +<p>William pulled up slowly at the workhouse gates. He would have helped +Ruth down if there had been any excuse or opportunity. He was sorry the +journey had come to an end. It might be long before he looked into those +soft brown eyes again. He suppressed a sigh with difficulty when Ralph +sprang out behind and helped his sister down. How much less clumsily he +could have done it himself, and how he would have enjoyed the privilege!</p> + +<p>"I'll put the horse up at the Star and Garter," he said, adjusting the +seat to the lighter load, "and will be waiting round there till you're +ready."</p> + +<p>Then Ruth came up and stood by the shafts.</p> + +<p>"I shall not see you again," she said, raising grateful eyes to his. +"But I should like to thank you very much for your kindness."</p> + +<p>"Please don't say a word about it," he answered, blushing painfully. +"The pleasure's been on my side." And he reached down and grasped Ruth's +extended hand with a vigour that left no doubt as to his sincerity.</p> + +<p>He did not drive away at once. He waited till Ralph and Ruth had +disappeared within the gloomy building, then, heaving a long-drawn sigh, +he touched his horse with his whip, and drove slowly down the hill +toward the Star and Garter.</p> + +<p>"It's very foolish of me to think about women at all," he mused, +"especially about one woman in particular. I'm not a woman's man, and +never was, and never shall be. Besides, she's good enough for the best +in the land."</p> + +<p>And he plucked at the reins and started the horse into a trot.</p> + +<p>"If I were ten years younger and handsome," he went on, "and didn't keep +a shop, and hadn't my mother to keep, and—and——But there, what's the +use of saying 'if' this and 'if' that? I'm just William Menire, and +nobody else, and there ain't her equal in the three parishes. No, I'd +better be content to jog along quietly as I've been doing for years +past. It's foolish to dream at my time of life—foolish—foolish!" And +with another sigh he let the reins slacken.</p> + +<p>But, foolish or not, William continued to dream, until his dreams seemed +to him the larger part of his life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>A GOOD NAME</h3> + + +<p>In a long, barrack-like room, with uncarpeted floor and whitewashed +walls, Ralph and Ruth found their mother. She was propped up with +pillows in a narrow, comfortless bed. Her hands lay listless upon the +coarse coverlet, her eyes were fixed upon the blank wall opposite, her +lips were parted in a patient and pathetic smile.</p> + +<p>She did not see the wall, nor feel the texture of the bedclothes, nor +hear the sound of footsteps on the uncarpeted floor. She was back again +in the old days when husband and children were about her, and hope +gladdened their daily toil, and love glorified and made beautiful the +drudgery of life. She tried not to think about the present at all, and +in the main she succeeded. Her life was in the past and in the future. +When she was not wandering through the pleasant fields of memory, and +plucking the flowers that grew in those sheltered vales, she was soaring +aloft into those fair Elysian fields which imagination pictured and +faith made real—fields on which the blight of winter never fell, and +across which storms and tempests never swept.</p> + +<p>She had lost all count of days, lost consciousness almost of her present +surroundings. Every day was the same—grey and sunless. There were no +duties to be done, no meals to prepare, no butter to make, no chickens +to feed, no husband to greet when the day was done, no hungry children +to come romping in from the fields.</p> + +<p>There were old people who had been in the workhouse so long that they +had accommodated their life to its slow routine, and who found something +to interest them in the narrowest and greyest of all worlds. But Mary +Penlogan had come too suddenly into its sombre shadow and had left too +many pleasant things behind her.</p> + +<p>She did not complain. There were times when she did not even suffer. The +blow had stunned her and numbed all her sensibilities. Now and then she +awoke as from a pleasant dream, and for a moment a wave of horror and +agony would sweep over her, but the tension would quickly pass. The +wound was too deep for the smart to continue long.</p> + +<p>She seemed in the main to be wonderfully resigned, and yet resignation +was scarcely the proper word to use. It was rather that voiceless apathy +born of despair. For her the end of the world had come; there was +nothing left to live for. Nothing could restore the past and give her +back what once she had prized so much, and yet prized all too little. It +was just a question of endurance until the Angel of Death should set her +free.</p> + +<p>She conformed to all the rules of the House without a murmur, and +without even the desire to complain. She slept well, on the whole, and +tried her best to eat such fare as was considered good enough for +paupers. If she wept at all she wept in secret and in the night-time; +she had no desire to obtrude her grief upon others. She even made an +earnest effort to be cheerful now and then. But all the while her +strength ebbed slowly away. The springs of her life had run dry.</p> + +<p>The workhouse doctor declared at first that nothing ailed her—nothing +at all. A week later he spoke of a certain lack of vitality, and wrote +an order for a little more nourishing food. A fortnight later he +discovered a certain weakness in the action of the heart, and wrote out +a prescription to be made up in the dispensary.</p> + +<p>Later still he had her removed to the sick-ward and placed under the +care of a nurse. It was there Ralph and Ruth found her on the afternoon +in question.</p> + +<p>She looked up with a start when Ralph stopped at the foot of her bed, +then, with a glad cry, she reached out her wasted arms to him. He was by +her side in a moment, with his arms about her neck, and for several +minutes they rocked themselves to and fro in silence.</p> + +<p>Ruth came up on the other side and sat down on a wooden chair, and for +awhile her presence was forgotten.</p> + +<p>"My dear, darling old mother!" Ralph said, as soon as he had recovered +himself sufficiently to speak. "I did not think it would have come to +this."</p> + +<p>She made no reply, but continued to rock herself to and fro.</p> + +<p>He drew himself away after a while and took her thin, wrinkled hands in +his.</p> + +<p>"You must get better now as soon as ever you can," he said, trying to +speak cheerfully, though every word threatened to choke him.</p> + +<p>She shook her head slowly and smiled.</p> + +<p>"When we get you back to St. Goram," he went on, "you'll soon pick up +your strength again, for it is only strength you need."</p> + +<p>She turned her head and looked up into his face and smiled pathetically.</p> + +<p>"If it is God's will that I should get strong again I shall not +complain," she answered, "but I would rather go Home now I am so near."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, we cannot spare you yet," he replied quickly; and he gulped down +a big lump that had risen in his throat. "I'm going to work in real +earnest and build a new home. I've lots of plans for the future."</p> + +<p>"My poor boy," she said gently, and she tapped the back of his hand with +the tips of her wasted fingers, "even if your plans succeed, life will +be a hard road still."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know that, mother. But to have someone to live for and care +for will make it easier." And he bent his head and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"God alone can tell that, my boy," she said wistfully. "But oh, you've +been a long time coming to me."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if it has seemed so long to you as to me?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"But why did they not release you sooner?" she asked. "Oh, it seems +months ago since they told me that Jim Brewer had confessed."</p> + +<p>"Can anybody tell why stupid officialism ever does anything at all?" he +questioned. "Liberty is a goddess bound, and justice is fettered and +cannot run."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about that," she answered slowly, "but it seemed an easy +thing to set you free when your innocence had been proved."</p> + +<p>"No, mother; nothing is easy when you are caught in the blind and +blundering toils of the law."</p> + +<p>"But what is the law for, my boy?"</p> + +<p>He laughed softly and yet bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Chiefly, it seems," he said, "to find work for lawyers; and, secondly, +to protect the interests of those who are rich enough to pay for it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my boy, the bitterness of the wrong abides with you still, but God +will make all things right by and by."</p> + +<p>"Some things can never be made right, mother; but let us not talk of +that now. I want you to get better fast, and think of all the good times +we shall have when we get a little home of our own once more."</p> + +<p>"Your father will not be there," she answered sadly; "and I want to be +with him."</p> + +<p>"But you should think of us also, mother," he said, with a shake in his +voice.</p> + +<p>"I do—I do," she answered feebly and listlessly. "I have thought of you +night and day, and have never ceased to pray for you since I came here. +But you can do without me now."</p> + +<p>"No, no. Don't say that!" he pleaded.</p> + +<p>"I should have feared to leave you once," she answered; "but not now."</p> + +<p>"Why not now?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Ralph, my boy"—and she smoothed the back of his hand slowly and +gently—"you will never forget your father and the good name he bore. +That name is your inheritance. It is better than money—better than +houses and lands. He was one of the good men of the world—not great, +nor successful, nor even wise, as the world counts wisdom. But no shadow +of wrong, Ralph, ever stained his life. He walked with God. You will +think of this, my son, in the days that are to come. And if ever you +should be tempted to sin, the memory of your father will be like an +anchor to you. You will say to yourself, 'He bore unstained for nearly +sixty years the white flag of a blameless life, and I dare not lower it +now into the dust.'"</p> + +<p>"God help me, mother!" he choked.</p> + +<p>"God will help you, my boy. As He stood by your father and has comforted +me, so will He be your strength and defence. You and Ruth will fight all +the better for not having the burden of my presence."</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother, how can you say so?" Ruth interposed, with streaming +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I may be permitted to watch you from the hills of that Better Country," +she went on, "I and your father. But in any case, God will watch over +you."</p> + +<p>This was her benediction. They went away at length, sadly and silently, +but not till they reached the outer air did either of them speak. It was +Ruth who broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"She will never get better, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, sis. She is overcome to-day, but she will pick up again +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"She has been gradually failing ever since we left Hillside, and she has +never recovered any ground she lost."</p> + +<p>"But the spring is coming, and once we have got her out of that dismal +and depressing place, her strength will come back."</p> + +<p>But Ruth shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to discourage you," she said, "but I have watched the +gradual loosening of her hold upon life. Her heart is in heaven, Ralph, +that is the secret of it. She is longing to be with father again."</p> + +<p>They walked on in silence till they reached Mr. Varcoe's house, then +Ralph spoke again.</p> + +<p>"We must get mother out of the workhouse, and at once, whatever +happens," he said.</p> + +<p>"How?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know yet. But think of it, if she should die in the workhouse."</p> + +<p>"She has lived in it," Ruth answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; but the disgrace of it if she should end her days there."</p> + +<p>"If there is any disgrace in poverty, we have suffered it to the full," +Ruth answered. "Nothing that can happen now can add to it."</p> + +<p>For a moment he stood silent. Then he kissed her and walked away.</p> + +<p>He found William Menire waiting for him at the street corner, a few +yards from the Star and Garter.</p> + +<p>"I haven't harnessed up yet," he said. "I thought perhaps you might like +a cup of tea or a chop before we returned. Your sister, I presume, has +gone back to her—to her place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw her home before I came on here."</p> + +<p>William sighed and waited for instructions. He was willing to be servant +to Ralph for Ruth's sake.</p> + +<p>"I should like a cup of tea, if you don't mind," Ralph said at length, +and he coloured painfully as he spoke. He was living on charity, and the +sting of it made all his nerves tingle.</p> + +<p>"There's a confectioner's round the corner where they make capital tea," +William said cheerfully. And he led the way with long strides.</p> + +<p>The moon was up when they started on their homeward journey, and the air +was keen and frosty. Neither of them talked much. To Ralph the day +seemed like a long and more or less incoherent dream. He had dressed +that morning in the dim light of a prison cell—it seemed like a week +ago. He felt at times as though he had dreamed all the rest.</p> + +<p>William was dreaming of Ruth, and so did not disturb his companion. The +horse needed no whip, he seemed the most eager of the three to get home. +The fields lay white and silent in the moonlight. The bare trees flung +ghostly shadows across the road. The stars twinkled faintly in the +far-off depths of space, now and then a dove cooed drowsily in a +neighbouring wood.</p> + +<p>At length the tower of St. Goram Church loomed massively over the brow +of the hill, and a little later William pulled up with a jerk at his own +shop door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Menire had provided supper for them. Ralph ate sparingly, and with +many pauses. This was not home. He was a stranger in a stranger's house, +living on charity. That thought stung him constantly and spoiled his +appetite.</p> + +<p>He tried to sleep when he got to bed, but the angel was long in coming. +His thoughts were too full of other things. The fate of his mother +worried him most. How to get her out of the workhouse and find an asylum +for her somewhere else was a problem he could not solve. He had been +promised work at St. Ivel Mine before his arrest, and he had no doubt +that he would still be able to obtain employment there. But no wages +would be paid him till the end of the month, and even then it would all +be mortgaged for food and clothes.</p> + +<p>He slept late next morning, for William had given orders that he was not +to be disturbed. He came downstairs feeling a little ashamed of himself. +If this was his new start in life, it was anything but an energetic +beginning.</p> + +<p>William was on the look-out for him, and fetched the bacon and eggs from +the kitchen himself.</p> + +<p>"We've had our breakfast," he explained. "You won't mind, I hope. We +knew you'd be very tired, so we kept the house quiet. I hope you've had +a good night, and are feeling all the better. Now I must leave you. +We're busy getting out the country orders. You can help yourself, I +know." And he disappeared through the frosted glass door into the shop.</p> + +<p>He came back half an hour later, just as Ralph was finishing his +breakfast, with a telegram in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I hope there ain't no bad news," he said, handing Ralph the +brick-coloured envelope.</p> + +<p>Ralph tore it open in a moment, and his face grew ashen.</p> + +<p>He did not speak for several seconds, but continued to stare with +unblinking eyes at the pencilled words.</p> + +<p>"Is it bad news?" William questioned at length, unable to restrain his +curiosity and his anxiety any longer.</p> + +<p>Ralph raised his eyes and looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Mother's dead," he answered, in a whisper; and then the telegram +slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor.</p> + +<p>William picked it up and read it.</p> + +<p>"Your mother found dead in bed. Send instructions <i>re</i> disposal of +remains."</p> + +<p>"They might have worded the message a little less brutally," William +said at length.</p> + +<p>"Officialism is nothing if not brutal," Ralph said bitterly.</p> + +<p>Then the two men looked at each other in silence. William had little +difficulty in guessing what was passing through Ralph's mind.</p> + +<p>"If I were in his place," he reflected, "what should I be thinking? +Should I like my mother to be put into a parish coffin and buried in a +pauper's grave?"</p> + +<p>William spoke at length.</p> + +<p>"You'd like your mother and father to sleep together?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>Ralph's lips trembled, but he did not speak.</p> + +<p>"The world's been terribly rough on you," William went on, "but you'll +come into your own maybe by and by."</p> + +<p>"I shall never get father and mother back again," Ralph answered +chokingly.</p> + +<p>"We oughtn't to want them back again," William said; "they're better +off."</p> + +<p>"I wish I was better off in the same way," Ralph answered, with a rush +of tears to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"She held on, you see, till you came back to her," William said, after a +long pause; "then, when she got her heart's desire, she let go."</p> + +<p>"Dear old mother!"</p> + +<p>"And now that she's asleep, you'll want her to rest with your father."</p> + +<p>"But I've no money."</p> + +<p>"I'll be your banker as long as you like. Charge you interest on the +money, if you'll feel easier in your mind. Only don't let the money +question trouble you just now."</p> + +<p>Ralph grasped William's hand in silence. Of all the people he had known +in St. Goram, this comparative stranger was his truest friend and +neighbour.</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that Mary Penlogan had such a funeral as she herself +would have chosen, and in the grave of her husband her children laid her +to rest. People came from far and near to pay their last tribute of +respect. Even Sir John Hamblyn sent his steward to represent him. He was +too conscience-stricken to come himself.</p> + +<p>And when the grave had been filled in, the crowd still lingered and +talked to each other of the brave and patient souls whose only legacy to +their children was the heritage of an untarnished name.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>A FRESH START</h3> + + +<p>Some people said it was a stroke of good luck, others that it was an +exhibition of native genius, others still that it was the result of +having a good education, and a few that it was just a dispensation of +Providence, and nothing else. But whether luck or genius, Providence or +education, all were agreed that Ralph Penlogan had struck a vein which, +barring accidents, would lead him on to fortune.</p> + +<p>For six months he had worked on the "floors" of St. Ivel Mine, and +earned fourteen shillings a week thereat; but as a friendly miner and +his wife boarded and lodged him for eight shillings a week, he did not +do badly. His savings, if not large, were regular. Most months he laid +by a pound, and felt that he had taken the first step on the road to +independence, if not to fortune.</p> + +<p>As the weeks sped away, and springtime grew into summer, and all the +countryside lay smiling and beautiful in the warmth of the sunshine, his +spirits rose imperceptibly; the sense of injustice that had burdened him +gradually grew lighter, the bitter memory of Bodmin Gaol faded slowly +from his mind, his grief at the loss of his parents passed unconsciously +into painless resignation, and life, for its own sake, seemed to gather +a new meaning.</p> + +<p>He was young and strong, and in perfect health. Consequently, youth and +strength and hope and confidence asserted themselves in spite of +everything. How could he help dreaming bright dreams of the future when +the earth lay basking in beauty in the light of the summer sun, and away +at the end of the valley a triangular glimpse of the sea carried his +thoughts into the infinite?</p> + +<p>So strong he felt, so full of life and vitality, that nothing seemed +impossible to him. He was not impatient. He was so young that he could +afford to bide his time. He would lay the foundation slowly and with +care. He had to creep before he could walk, and walk before he could +run.</p> + +<p>Now and then, it is true, he had his bitter and angry moments, when the +memory of the past swept over him like an icy flood, and when a sense of +intolerable injustice seemed to wrap the world in darkness and shut out +all hope of the future.</p> + +<p>One such moment he had when he contracted with William Jenkins to mow +down a field of hay on Hillside Farm. He could do this only by working +overtime, which usually meant working sixteen hours a day. But he was +anxious to earn all he could, so that at the earliest possible date he +might get a little home together for himself and Ruth.</p> + +<p>He had not seen Hillside for many a month until the day he went to +interview William Jenkins. He knew it would cost him a pang, but he +could not afford to wait on sentiment or emotion. And yet he hardly +realised how deeply the place was enshrined in his heart until he stood +knocking at the door of the house that was once his home.</p> + +<p>He was glad that nobody heard his first knock. He thought he had got +beyond the reach of emotion, but it was not so. Suddenly, as a wave +rises and breaks upon the shore, a flood of memory swept over him. He +was back again in the dear dead past, with all the hopes of boyhood +dancing before his eyes. He saw his father coming up the home-close with +a smile upon his face, his mother in the garden gathering flowers with +which to decorate the table. He could almost fancy he heard Ruth singing +in the parlour as she bent over her sewing.</p> + +<p>Then the wave retreated, leaving him cold and numbed and breathless. It +was his home no longer. He was standing, a stranger, at the door that +once he opened by right. His eyes cleared at length, and he looked out +across the fields that he had helped to reclaim from the waste. How +familiar the landscape was! He knew every mound and curve, every bush +and tree. Could it be possible that in one short year, and less, so much +had happened?</p> + +<p>He pulled himself together after a few moments, and knocked at the door +again. William Jenkins started and looked confused when he saw Ralph +standing before him, for he had never been able to shake off an uneasy +feeling that he had not done a kind and neighbourly thing when he took +Hillside Farm over David Penlogan's head, even though Sir John's agent +had pressed him to do so.</p> + +<p>Ralph plunged into the object of his visit after a kindly greeting.</p> + +<p>"I hear you are letting out your hay crop to be cut," he said, "and I +came across to see if I could get the job."</p> + +<p>"I did not know you were out of work," Jenkins said uneasily.</p> + +<p>"I'm not," Ralph answered. "But I want to put in a little overtime these +long days. Besides, you know I'm used to farm work."</p> + +<p>"But if you work only overtime it will take you a long time to get down +the crop."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not so long. It's light till nearly ten o'clock. Besides, we're in +for a spell of fine weather, and a day or two longer won't make any +difference."</p> + +<p>"The usual price per acre, I suppose?" the farmer questioned, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"Well, I presume nobody would be inclined to take less," Ralph said, +with a laugh.</p> + +<p>The farmer dived his hands into his pockets, contemplated the evening +sky for several minutes, took two or three long strides down the garden +path and back again, cleared his throat once or twice, and then he +said—</p> + +<p>"Will waant yer money, 'spose, when the job's done?"</p> + +<p>"Unless you prefer to pay in advance."</p> + +<p>The farmer grinned, and dug a hole into the ground with his heel.</p> + +<p>"There ain't too much money to be made out of this place, I'm thinkin'," +he said at length.</p> + +<p>"Not at the price you suggest," Ralph said, with a twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p>The farmer grinned again.</p> + +<p>"I didn't main it that way," he said, digging another hole in the +gravel. "I was thinkin' of myself. The farm ain't as good as I took it +to be."</p> + +<p>"But it will mend every year."</p> + +<p>"Ef it don't I shall wish I never see'd it. The crops are lookin' only +very middlin', I can assure 'ee."</p> + +<p>"Sorry to hear that. But what about the hay-field?"</p> + +<p>"I 'spose you've got a scythe?"</p> + +<p>"I can get one, in any case."</p> + +<p>"Well, 'spose we say done!" And Jenkins contemplated the evening sky +again with considerable interest.</p> + +<p>Afterwards Ralph wished that he had found work for his spare time almost +anywhere rather than on Hillside Farm. There was not a single thing that +did not remind him in some way of the past. He would raise his head +unconsciously, expecting to see his father working by his side. The +flutter of Mrs. Jenkins' print dress in the garden would cause the word +"mother" to leap to his lips unbidden, and when the daylight faded, and +the moon began to peep over the hill, he would turn his face towards the +house, fancying that Ruth was calling him to supper.</p> + +<p>He finished the task at length, and dropped his hard-earned silver into +his pocket.</p> + +<p>"It'll be a dear crop of hay for me, I'm thinkin'," Jenkins said +lugubriously.</p> + +<p>"It isn't so heavy as it might be," Ralph answered. "A damp spring suits +Hillside best."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes wish your father had it instead of me." And Jenkins twisted +his shoulders uncomfortably.</p> + +<p>"Father is better off," Ralph answered slowly, looking across the valley +to a distant line of hills.</p> + +<p>"Ay, it's to be hoped so, for there ain't much better off here, I'm +thinkin'. It's mostly worse off. And as we get owlder we feel it more 'n +more."</p> + +<p>"So you regret taking the farm already?" Ralph questioned almost +unconsciously.</p> + +<p>"I ded'n say so. We've got to make a livin' somehow, leastways we've got +to try." And he turned suddenly round and walked into the house.</p> + +<p>Ralph walked across the fields to interview Peter Ladock, whose farm +adjoined. He struck the boundary hedge at a point where a gnarled and +twisted oak made a feature in the landscape. Half-way over the hedge he +paused abruptly. This was the point his father had asked him to keep in +his memory, and yet until this moment he had never once thought of it.</p> + +<p>Not that it mattered: the county was intersected with tin lodes, iron +lodes, copper lodes, and lead lodes, and most of them would not pay for +the working. And very likely this lode, if it existed—for, after all, +his father had had very little opportunity of demonstrating its +existence—would turn out to be no better than the rest.</p> + +<p>For a moment he paused to draw an imaginary line to the chimney-top, as +his father had instructed him, then he sprang off the hedge into +Ladock's field and made his way towards his house. Peter, who knew his +man, agreed to pay Ralph by the hour, and he could work as many hours as +he liked.</p> + +<p>To one less strong and healthy than Ralph it would have been killing +work; but he did not seem to take any harm. Once a week came Sunday, and +during that day he seemed to regain all that he had lost. Fortunately, +too, during harvest-time the farmers provided extra food. There was +"crowst" between meals, and supper when they worked extra late.</p> + +<p>No sooner was the hay crop out of the way than the oats and barley began +to whiten in the sunshine, and then the wheat began to bend its head +before the sickle.</p> + +<p>Ralph quadrupled his savings during the months of June, July, and +August, and before September was out he had taken a cottage and begun to +furnish it.</p> + +<p>Bice had a few things left that once belonged to his mother and father. +Ralph pounced upon them greedily, and bought them cheaply from the +assistant when Bice was out.</p> + +<p>On the first Saturday afternoon he had at liberty he went to St. Hilary +to interview his sister. Ruth was on the look-out for him. She had got +the afternoon off, and was eager to look into his eyes again. It was +nearly three months since she had seen him.</p> + +<p>She met him with a glad smile and eyes that were brimful of happy tears.</p> + +<p>"How well you look," she said, looking up into his strong, sunburnt +face. "I was afraid you were working yourself to death."</p> + +<p>"No fear of that," he said, with a laugh; "it is not work that kills, +you know, but worry."</p> + +<p>"And you are not worrying?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Not now," he answered. "I think I'm fairly started, and, with hard work +and economy, there is no reason why we should not jog along comfortably +together."</p> + +<p>"And you are still of the same mind about my keeping house for you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, what a question! As if I would stay a day longer in 'diggings' +than I could help."</p> + +<p>"Are you not comfortable?" she questioned, glancing anxiously up into +his face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, when at work or asleep."</p> + +<p>"There is still another question," she said at length, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"And that?"</p> + +<p>"You may want to get married some time, and then I shall be in the way."</p> + +<p>He laughed boisterously for a moment, and then his face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"I shall never marry," he said at length. "At least, that is my present +conviction."</p> + +<p>She regarded him narrowly for a moment, and wondered. There came a look +into his eyes which she could not understand—a far-away, pathetic look, +such as is seen in the eyes of those who have loved and lost.</p> + +<p>Ruth was curious. Being a woman, she could not help it. Who was there in +St. Goram likely to touch her brother's fancy? Young men who have never +been in love often talk freely about getting married.</p> + +<p>She changed the subject a few minutes later, and carefully watched the +effect of her words.</p> + +<p>"I suppose nothing has been heard in St. Goram of Miss Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said hurriedly. "Have you heard anything?" And he looked at her +with eager eyes, while the colour deepened on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I am not in the way of hearing St. Goram news," she said, with a smile.</p> + +<p>He drew in his breath sharply, and turned away his eyes, and for several +minutes neither of them spoke again.</p> + +<p>Ruth began unconsciously to put two and two together. She had heard of +such things—read of them in books. Fate was often very cruel to the +most deserving. Unlikelier things had happened. Dorothy was exceedingly +pretty, and since her accident she had revealed traits of character that +scarcely anyone suspected before. Ralph had been thrown into very close +contact at the most impressionable part of his life. He had succoured +her when she was hurt, carried her in his arms all the way from +Treliskey Plantation to the cross roads. Nor was that all. She had +discovered him after his accident, and when the doctor arrived on the +scene, he was lying with his head on her lap.</p> + +<p>If he had learned to love her, it might not be strange, but it would be +an infinite pity, all the same. The cruel irony of it would be too sad +for words. Of course, he would get over it in time. The contempt he felt +for Sir John, the difference in their social position, and last, but not +least, the fact that she had been effectually banished from Hamblyn +Manor, and that there was no likelihood of their meeting again, would +all help him to put her out of his heart and out of his life. +Nevertheless, if her surmise was correct, that Dorothy Hamblyn had +stolen his heart, she could quite understand him saying that he did not +intend to marry.</p> + +<p>"Poor Ralph!" she said to herself, with a sigh. And then she began to +talk about the things that would be needed in their new home.</p> + +<p>Ruth had saved almost the whole of her nine months' wages, which, added +to what Ralph had saved, made quite a respectable sum. To lay it out to +the best advantage might not be easy. She wanted so many things that he +saw no necessity for, while he wanted things that she pronounced +impossible.</p> + +<p>On the whole, however, they had a very happy time in spending their +savings and getting the little cottage in order. Everything, of course, +was of the cheapest and simplest. They attended most of the auction +sales within a radius of half a dozen miles, and some very useful things +they got for almost nothing.</p> + +<p>Both of them were in the best of spirits. Ruth looked forward with great +eagerness to the time of her release from service; not that she was +overworked, while nobody could be kinder to her than her mistress. +Nevertheless, a sense of servitude pressed upon her constantly. She had +lived all her life before in such an atmosphere of freedom, and had +pictured for herself a future so absolutely different, that it was not +easy to accommodate herself to the straitened ways of service.</p> + +<p>Ralph was weary of "diggings," and was literally pining for a home of +his own. He had endured for six months, because he had been lodged and +boarded cheap. He had shown no impatience while nothing better was in +sight, but when the cottage was actually taken, and some items of +furniture had been moved into it, he began to count the days till he +should take full possession.</p> + +<p>He went to bed, to dream of soft pillows and clean sheets, and dainty +meals daintily served; of a bright hearth, and an easy-chair in which he +might rest comfortably when the long evenings came; of a sweet face that +should sit opposite to him; and, above all, of quietness from the noisy +strife of quarrelsome and unruly children.</p> + +<p>Ruth returned from St. Hilary on the first of October—a rich, mellow +day, when all the earth seemed to float in a golden haze. William Menire +discovered that he had business in St. Hilary that day, and that it +would be quite convenient for him to bring Ruth and her boxes in his +trap. He put the matter so delicately that Ruth could not very well +refuse.</p> + +<p>It was a happy day for William when he drove through St. Goram with Ruth +sitting by his side, and a happy day for Ruth when she alighted at the +garden gate of their little cottage, and caught the light of a new hope +in her brother's eyes.</p> + +<p>It was a fresh start for them both, but to what it might lead they did +not know—nor even desire to know.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE ROAD TO FORTUNE</h3> + + +<p>No sooner had Ralph got settled in his new home than his brain began to +work with renewed energy and vigour. He began making experiments again +in all sorts of things. He built a rough shed at the back of the +cottage, and turned it into a laboratory. He spent all his spare time in +trying to reduce some of his theories to practice.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he got impatient of the slow monotony of day labour. He did +not grumble at the wages. Possibly he was paid as much as he deserved, +but he did chafe at the horse-in-the-mill kind of existence. To do the +same kind of thing day after day, and feel that an elephant or even an +ass might be trained to do it just as well, was from his point of view +humiliating. He wanted scope for the play of other faculties. He was not +a mule, with so much physical strength that might be paid for at so much +per hour; he was a man, with brains and intelligence and foresight. So +he began to look round him for some other kind of work, and finally he +took a small contract which kept him and three men he employed busy for +two months, and left him at the end twenty-eight shillings and ninepence +poorer than if he had stuck to his day labour.</p> + +<p>He was nothing daunted, however. Indeed, he was a good deal encouraged. +He was afraid at one time that he would come out of his contract in +debt. He worked considerably more hours than when he was a day labourer, +and he was inclined to think that he worked considerably harder, and +there was less money at the end; but he was far happier because he was +infinitely more interested.</p> + +<p>Ruth, who had been educated in a school of the strictest economy, +managed to make both ends meet, and with that she was quite content. She +had great faith in her brother. She liked to see him busy with his +experiments. It kept him out of mischief, if nothing else. But that was +not all. She believed in his ultimate success. In what direction she did +not know, but he was not commonplace and humdrum. He was not willing to +jog along in the same ruts from year's end to year's end without knowing +the reason why. She rejoiced in his impatience and discontent, for she +recognised that there was something worthy and even heroic behind. +Discontent under certain circumstances and conditions might be +noble—almost divine. She wished sometimes that she had more of his +spirit.</p> + +<p>She never uttered a word of complaint if he gave her less money to keep +house upon, never hinted that his experiments were too expensive +luxuries for their means. Something would grow out of his enterprise and +enthusiasm by and by. He had initiative and vision and judgment, and +such qualities she felt sure were bound to tell in the end.</p> + +<p>When Ralph had finished his first contract he took a second, and did +better by it. He learned by experience, as all wise men do, and gathered +confidence in himself as the result.</p> + +<p>With the advent of spring rumours got into circulation that a large and +wealthy company had been formed for the purpose of developing +Perranpool.</p> + +<p>A few years previously it had been only a fishing village, distinguished +mainly for the quality of its pilchards. But some London journalist, who +during a holiday time spent a few days there, took it into his head to +turn an honest penny by writing a friendly article about it. It is to be +presumed he meant all he said, for he said a great deal that many people +wondered at. But, in any case, the article was well written and was +widely quoted from.</p> + +<p>The result was that the following year nearly every fisherman's wife had +to turn lodging-house keeper, and not being spoiled by contact with the +ordinary tripper, these worthy men and women made their visitors +comfortable with but small profit to themselves.</p> + +<p>The next year a still larger number of people came, for they had heard +that Perranpool was not only secluded and salubrious, but also +remarkably cheap.</p> + +<p>That was the beginning of Perranpool's fame. Every year more and more +people came to enjoy its sunshine and build sand-castles on its beach. +Houses sprang up like mushrooms, most of them badly built, and all of +them entirely hideous. A coach service was established between it and +the nearest railway station, a company was formed for the purpose of +supplying gas at a maximum charge for a minimum candle-power, while +another company brought water from a distance, so rich in microbes that +the marvel was that anyone drank it and lived.</p> + +<p>Since then things have further improved. A branch railway has been +constructed, and two or three large hotels have been built, a Local +Board has been formed, and the rates have been quadrupled. A "Town Band" +plays during the season an accompaniment to the song the wild waves +sing, and the picturesque sea-front has given place to an asphalted +promenade. At the time of which we write, however, the promenade existed +only in imagination, and some of the older houses were threatened by the +persistently encroaching sea.</p> + +<p>So a company was formed for the purpose of building a breakwater and a +pier, and for the purpose of developing a large tract of land it had +acquired along the sea-front, and tenders were invited for the carrying +out of certain specified work.</p> + +<p>None of the tenders, however, were accepted. There was no stone in the +neighbourhood fit for the purpose, and to bring granite from the distant +quarries meant an expense that was not to be thought of. The directors +of the company began to feel sick. The debenture holders were eating up +the capital, and the ordinary shareholders were clamouring for a +dividend, while the sea threatened to eat up the land.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Ralph Penlogan had been looking at a huge heap of gravel and +mica and blue clay which had been accumulating during three generations +on the side of a hill some two or three miles inland. Every day and all +the year round men pushed out small trucks and tipped their contents +over the brow of this huge barrow. Every year the great heap extended +its base, engulfing hedges and meadows and even plantations. There was +no value in this waste whatever. In fact, it involved the company in a +loss, for they had to pay for the land it continued to engulf. Anyone +who liked to cart away a few loads for the purpose of gravelling his +garden-path was at liberty to do so. The company would have been +grateful if the whole mass of it could have been carted into the sea.</p> + +<p>Ralph got a wheelbarrowful of the stuff and experimented with it. Then +he wrote to the chairman of the company and asked permission to use some +of the waste heap for building purposes—a permission which was at once +granted. In fact, the chairman intimated that the more he could use the +more he—the chairman—and his co-directors would be pleased.</p> + +<p>Ralph's next step was to interview a local contractor who was very +anxious to build the new sea-wall and pier. The result of that interview +was that the contractor sent in a fresh tender, not to build the wall of +granite, but with a newly discovered concrete, which could be +manufactured at a very small cost, and which would serve the purposes of +the company even better than granite itself.</p> + +<p>Ralph registered his invention or discovery, got his concession from the +Brick, Tile, and Clay Company into the best legal form possible, and +then commenced operations.</p> + +<p>Telfer, the contractor, who was delighted with the quality of the +concrete, financed Ralph at the start, and helped him in every way in +his power.</p> + +<p>The Perranpool Pier and Land Company, after testing the new material in +every way known to them, accepted Telfer's tender, and the great work +was commenced forthwith.</p> + +<p>In a couple of months Ralph had as many men at work as he had room for. +Telfer had laid a light tram-line down the valley, and as fast as the +blocks were manufactured they were run down to Perranpool.</p> + +<p>Ralph was in high spirits. Having the material for nothing, and water in +abundance, he was able to manufacture his concrete even cheaper than he +had calculated. In fact, his profits were so good that he increased the +wages of his hands all round, and got more work out of them in +consequence.</p> + +<p>Robert Telfer, however, who was much more of a man of the world than +Ralph, was by no means satisfied with the condition of affairs. He +foresaw contingencies that never occurred to the younger man.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said to Ralph one day, "you ought to turn out much more +stuff than you are doing."</p> + +<p>"Impossible," Ralph answered. "I have so many men at work that they are +getting in each other's way as it is."</p> + +<p>"But why not double your shifts? Let one lot get in at six and break off +at two, and the second come in at two and leave off at ten."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that," Ralph answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, you take my advice. There's an old proverb, you know, about +making hay while the sun shines."</p> + +<p>"But the sun will shine as long as you take my concrete."</p> + +<p>"Don't be too sure of that."</p> + +<p>"How?" Ralph said, glancing up with questioning eyes.</p> + +<p>"The raw material may give out."</p> + +<p>Ralph laughed.</p> + +<p>"Why, there's stuff enough to last a hundred years," he said.</p> + +<p>"That may be; but don't be too sure that you will be allowed to use it."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to suggest that the company will attempt to go behind their +agreement?"</p> + +<p>"More unlikely things have happened."</p> + +<p>"Then you have heard something?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing very definite. But some of the shareholders are angry at seeing +you make money."</p> + +<p>"But the stuff has been lying waste for generations, and accumulating +year by year. They rather gain than lose by letting me use it up."</p> + +<p>"But some of them are asking why they cannot use it themselves."</p> + +<p>"Well, let them if they know how."</p> + +<p>"You have patented your discovery?"</p> + +<p>"I have tried, but our patent laws are an outrage."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. And, after all, there's not much mystery in concrete."</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said, in a tone of inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Well, before you are aware you may have competition, or, as I said just +now, the raw material may run out."</p> + +<p>"I cannot conceive that honourable men will try to go behind their +promise."</p> + +<p>"As individuals, no; but you are dealing with a company."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is the difference?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Telfer laughed.</p> + +<p>"There ought to be no difference, I grant. Nevertheless, you will find +out as you grow older that companies and corporations and committees +will do what as single individuals they would never dream of doing. When +men are associated with a hundred others, the sense of individual +responsibility disappears. Companies or corporations have neither souls +nor consciences. You, as an individual, would not settle a dispute with +a revolver, or at the point of a sword. Possibly you think duelling a +crime, yet as a member of a community or nation you would possibly +applaud an appeal to arms in any quarrel affecting our material +interests."</p> + +<p>"Possibly I should," Ralph answered, looking thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Then you see what I am driving at?"</p> + +<p>"And you advise making the most of my opportunity?"</p> + +<p>"I do most certainly. I don't deny I may be selfish in this. I want as +much of the stuff as I can buy at the present price. Nobody else can +make it as cheaply as you are doing."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"First, because you are on good terms with your men, and are getting the +most out of them. Second, because you have no expenses to pay—that is, +you have no salaries to pay or directors to fee."</p> + +<p>"I'll think about it," Ralph said, and the interview came to an end.</p> + +<p>A week later he doubled his shift. He had no difficulty in getting men, +for the pay was good and the work was in the open air, and in no sense +of the word dangerous.</p> + +<p>He was on the spot nearly all the time himself. He left nothing to +chance. He delegated none of his own work to other people. Ruth saw very +little of him; he was off over the hill early in the morning, and he did +not return home till late at night.</p> + +<p>She understood he was prospering, but his prosperity made no difference +to their style of living. He was too fully occupied to think of anything +but his work, and too much of a man to be spoiled by a few months of +success.</p> + +<p>He had taken Mr. Telfer's advice, and was doubling his output, but he +was still of opinion that no attempt would be made to get behind the +concession that had been granted to him by the Brick, Tile, and Clay +Company.</p> + +<p>As the days passed away and grew into weeks and months, and he heard +nothing from the chairman or any of the directors, or of any +investigation, he was more than ever convinced that Mr. Telfer's fears +were entirely without foundation.</p> + +<p>It might be quite true that individual shareholders rather resented his +making money out of stuff that they threw away as waste. But, on the +whole, as far as he was able to judge, people appeared rather to rejoice +that the tide had turned in his favour. He had thought rather hard +things of some of his neighbours at one time, and it was still true that +they were more friendly disposed towards him in his prosperity than in +his adversity, but, on the whole, they were genuine, good-hearted +people, and none of them appeared to envy him his little bit of success.</p> + +<p>Sometimes William Menire took himself to task for not rejoicing as +heartily in Ralph's success as he felt he ought to do. But William had a +feeling that the more the Penlogans prospered the farther they would get +away from him. He pictured to himself, almost with a shudder, a time +when they would go to live in a big house and keep servants, and perhaps +drive their own carriage; while he, as a village shopkeeper, might be +allowed to call round at their back door for orders.</p> + +<p>If they remained poor, he might still help them in trifling things and +in unnoticeable ways; might continue on visiting terms with them; might +have the pleasure now and then of looking into Ruth's honest eyes; might +even reckon himself among their friends.</p> + +<p>But if they prospered, the whole world might be changed for him. Not +that he ever cherished any foolish hopes, or indulged in impossible +dreams. Had he been ten years younger, without a mother to keep, dreams +of love and matrimony might have floated before his vision. But +now——Well, such dreams were not for him.</p> + +<p>This is what he told himself constantly, and yet the dreams came back in +spite of everything.</p> + +<p>So the weeks and months slipped rapidly and imperceptibly away, and +everybody said that Ralph Penlogan was a lucky fellow, and that he had +struck a vein that was bound to lead on to fortune.</p> + +<p>But, meanwhile, directors had been arguing, and almost fighting, and +lawyers had been putting their heads together, and counsel's opinion had +been taken, and the power of the purse had been measured and discussed, +and even religious people had debated the question as to how far a +promise should be allowed to stand in the way of their material +interests, and whether even a legal obligation might not be evaded if +there was a chance of doing it.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for Ralph, time had allayed all his suspicions, so that +when the blow fell, it found him unprepared, in spite of his +consultation with Mr. Telfer.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>LAW AND LIFE</h3> + + +<p>"Promises, like piecrust, are made to be broken," so runs the proverb, +and the average man repeats it without a touch of cynicism in his tones. +If you can keep your promise without loss or inconvenience to yourself, +then do it by all means; but if you cannot, invent some excuse and get +out of it. Most men place their material interests before everything +else. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness," is a +saying that few people regard to-day. The children of this age think +they have found a more excellent way. "Seek ye first the kingdom of this +world and the policy thereof," is the popular philosophy.</p> + +<p>Lawyers and statesmen are busily engaged in taking the "nots" out of the +Ten Commandments and putting them into the Sermon on the Mount, and this +not only in their own interests, but chiefly in the interests of rich +clients and millionaire trusts. "The race is not to the swift, nor the +battle to the strong," says the Bible. The modern method of +interpretation is to take the "not" out. It makes sense out of nonsense, +say the children of this world; for anyone with half an eye can see that +the "not" must have crept in by mistake, for the race is to the swift, +and the strong always win the battle.</p> + +<p>"The meek shall inherit the earth," said the Teacher of Nazareth; but +the modern interpreter, with the map of the world spread out before him, +shakes his head. There is evidently something wrong somewhere. Possibly +there is exactly the right number of "nots" in the Bible, but they have +been wrongly distributed.</p> + +<p>"The meek shall inherit the earth"? Look at England. Look at South +Africa. Look at the United States. The meek shall inherit the earth? +Take a "not" out of the Ten Commandments, where there are several too +many, and put it into the gap, then you have a statement that is in +harmony with the general experience of the world.</p> + +<p>When Ralph received a polite note from the chairman of the Brick, Tile, +and Clay Company, that from that date his directors would no longer hold +themselves bound by the terms of the concession they had made, he felt +that he might as well retire first as last from the scene; and, but for +Mr. Telfer, he would have done so.</p> + +<p>Mr. Telfer's contention was that he had a good point in law, and that it +would be cowardly "to fling up the sponge" without a legal decision.</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I have no respect for what you call the law," he said, a little +bitterly. "I have tasted its quality, and want no more of it."</p> + +<p>"But what is the law for, except to preserve our rights?" Mr. Telfer +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Whose rights?" Ralph questioned.</p> + +<p>"Why, your rights and mine, and everybody's."</p> + +<p>Ralph shook his head again.</p> + +<p>"I fear I have no rights," he said.</p> + +<p>"No rights?" Mr. Telfer demanded hotly.</p> + +<p>"Put it to yourself," Ralph said quietly. "What rights has a poor man; +or, if he thinks he has, what chance has he of defending them if they +are threatened by the rich and powerful?"</p> + +<p>"But is not justice the heritage of the poor?" Mr. Telfer asked.</p> + +<p>"In theory it is so, no doubt; but not in practice. To get justice in +these days, you must spend a fortune in lawyers' fees—and probably you +won't get it then. But the poor have no fortune to spend."</p> + +<p>"I'll admit that going to law is a very expensive business; but what is +one to do?"</p> + +<p>"Grin and abide."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that is cowardly!"</p> + +<p>"It may be so. And yet, I do not see much heroism in running your head +against a stone wall."</p> + +<p>"But is it manly to sit down quietly and be robbed?"</p> + +<p>"That all depends on who the robbers are. If there are ten to one, I +should say it would be the wisest policy to submit."</p> + +<p>"I admit that the company is a powerful one. But it is a question with +me whether they have any right to the stuff at all. Their sett extends +from the line of Cowley's farm westward; but their tip has come a +quarter of a mile eastward. For years past they have had to pay for the +right of tipping their waste. In point of law, it isn't their stuff at +all. It isn't even on their land—the land belongs to Daniel Rickard."</p> + +<p>"That may be quite true," Ralph answered; "but I can't think that will +help us very much."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I heard this morning they were negotiating with Daniel for the +purchase of his little freehold."</p> + +<p>Mr. Telfer looked grave.</p> + +<p>"In any case," he said, "I would get counsel's opinion. Why not run up +to London and consult Sir John Liskeard? He is our member, you know, and +in your case his charge would not be excessive. You can afford to spend +something to know where you stand. I believe in dying game." And with a +wave of his hand, Mr. Telfer marched away.</p> + +<p>Two days later Ralph got a second letter from the chairman of the Brick, +Tile, and Clay Company which was much less conciliatory in tone. In +fact, it intimated, in language too plain to be misunderstood, that the +company held him guilty of trespass, and that by continuing his work +after the previous intimation he was rendering himself liable to an +action at law.</p> + +<p>Ralph toiled over the fields towards his home in a brown study. That the +letter was only bluff he knew, but it seemed clear enough that if he +resisted, the company was determined to fight the case in a court of +law.</p> + +<p>What to do for the best he could not decide. To fight the case would +probably ruin him, for even if he won, he would have to spend all his +savings in law expenses. To throw up the sponge at the outset would +certainly look cowardly. The only other alternative would be to try to +make terms with the company, to acknowledge their right, and to offer to +pay for every ton of stuff he used.</p> + +<p>When he got home he found Mary Telfer keeping his sister company. Mary +had been a good deal at the cottage lately. Ruth liked her to come; they +had a great deal in common, and appeared to be exceedingly fond of each +other. Mary was a bright, pleasant-faced girl of about Ralph's age. She +was not clever—she made no pretension in that direction; but she was +cheerful and good-tempered and domesticated. Moreover, as the only child +of Robert Telfer, the contractor, she was regarded as an heiress in a +small way.</p> + +<p>Ruth sometimes wondered whether, in the economy of nature, Mary might +not be her brother's best friend. Ralph would want a wife some day. She +did not believe in men remaining bachelors. They were much more happy, +much more useful, and certainly much less selfish when they had a wife +and family to maintain.</p> + +<p>Nor was that all; she had strong reasons for believing that Ralph had +been smitten with a hopeless passion for Dorothy Hamblyn. She did not +blame him in the least. Dorothy was so pretty and so winsome that it was +perhaps inevitable under the circumstances. But the pity of it and the +tragedy of it were none the less on that account. Hence, anything that +would help him in his struggle to forget was to be welcomed. For that +Ralph was honestly trying to put Dorothy Hamblyn out of his memory and +out of his heart, she fully believed.</p> + +<p>For months now he had never mentioned the squire or his "little maid." +Now and then Ruth would repeat the gossip that was floating about St. +Goram, but if he took any interest in it, he made no sign.</p> + +<p>Dorothy had never once come back since she was sent away. Whether she +was still at school, or had become a nun, or was living with friends, no +one appeared to know. Sir John kept his own counsel, and politely +snubbed all inquisitive persons.</p> + +<p>That Sir John was in a tight corner was universally believed. He had +reduced his household to about one-third its previous dimensions, had +dismissed half his gardeners and gamekeepers, had sold his hunters, and +in several other ways was practising the strictest economy. All this +implied that financially he was hard up.</p> + +<p>He got no sympathy, however, except from a few people of his own class. +He had been such a hard landlord, so ready to take every mean advantage, +so quick in raising rents, so slow in reducing them, that when he began +to have meted out to him what he had so long meted out to others, there +was rejoicing rather than sympathy.</p> + +<p>Ralph naturally could not help hearing the talk of the neighbourhood, +but he made no comment. Whether he was glad or sorry no one knew. As a +matter of fact, he hardly knew himself. For Sir John he had no sympathy. +He could see him starve without a pang. But there was another who loved +him, who would share his sufferings and be humbled in his humiliation, +and for her he was sorry. So he refused to discuss the squire's affairs, +either with Ruth or anyone else. He was fighting a hard battle—how hard +no one knew but himself. He did his best to avoid everything that would +remind him of Dorothy, did his best in every way to forget her. +Sometimes he found himself longing with an inexpressible desire for a +sight of her face, and yet on the whole he was exceedingly grateful that +she did not return to St. Goram. Time and distance had done something. +She was not so constantly in his thoughts as she used to be. He was not +always on the look-out for her, and he never started now, fancying it +was her face he saw in the distance; and yet he was by no means +confident that he would ever gain the victory.</p> + +<p>If he never saw her in his waking moments she came to him constantly in +his dreams. And, curiously enough, in his dreams there was never any +barrier to their happiness. In dreamland social distinctions did not +exist, and hard and tyrannical fathers were unknown. In dreamland happy +lovers went their own way unhindered and undisturbed. In dreamland it +was always springtime, and sickness and old age were never heard of. So +if memory were subdued in the daytime, night restored the balance. +Dorothy lived in his heart in spite of every effort to put her away.</p> + +<p>The sight of Mary Telfer's pleasant and smiling face on the evening in +question was a pleasant relief after the worries and annoyances of the +day. Mary was brimful of vivacity and good-humour, and Ralph quickly +caught the contagion of her cheerful temper.</p> + +<p>She knew all the gossip of the neighbourhood, and retailed it with great +verve and humour. Ralph laughed at some of the incidents she narrated +until the tears ran down his face.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly her mood changed, and she wanted to know if Ralph was +going to fight the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company.</p> + +<p>"What would you do if you were in my place?" Ralph questioned, with a +touch of banter in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Fight to the last gasp," she answered.</p> + +<p>"And what after that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is a question I should never ask myself."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't believe in looking far ahead?"</p> + +<p>"What's the use? If you look far enough you'll see a tombstone, and +that's not cheerful."</p> + +<p>"Then you'd fight without considering how the battle might end?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? If you are fighting for principle and right, you have to risk +the cost and the consequences."</p> + +<p>"But to go to war without counting the cost is not usually considered +good statesmanship."</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it? Well, you see, I'm not a statesman—I'm only a woman. But +if I were a man I wouldn't let a set of bullies triumph over me."</p> + +<p>"But how could you help it if they were stronger than you?"</p> + +<p>"At any rate, I'd let them prove they were stronger before I gave in."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't believe that discretion is the better part of valour?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. Not only isn't it the better part of valour, it isn't any +part of valour. Besides, we are commanded to resist the devil."</p> + +<p>"Then you think the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company is the devil?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is doing the devil's work, and such meanness and wickedness +ought to be exposed and resisted. What's the world coming to if +gentlemen go back on their own solemn promises?"</p> + +<p>"It's very sad, no doubt," Ralph said, with a smile. "But, you see, they +are a hundred to one, and, however much right I may have on my side, in +the long-run I shall have to go under."</p> + +<p>"Then you have no faith in justice?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the justice of the strong."</p> + +<p>"But if you have the law on your side you are bound to win."</p> + +<p>He laughed good-humouredly.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know any law," he said, "that was not in the interests of +the rich and powerful?"</p> + +<p>"I never gave the matter a thought," she answered.</p> + +<p>"If you had to spend a month in prison with nothing particular to do," +he laughed, "you would give more thought to the matter than it is +worth."</p> + +<p>She laughed heartily at that, and then the subject dropped.</p> + +<p>A little later in the evening, when they were seated at the +supper-table, Ruth remarked—</p> + +<p>"Mary Telfer is like a ray of sunshine in the house."</p> + +<p>"Is she always bright?" Ralph questioned indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Always. I have never seen her out of temper or depressed yet."</p> + +<p>"Very likely she has nothing to try her," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"It's not only that, it's her nature to be cheerful and optimistic. +He'll be a fortunate man who marries her."</p> + +<p>"Is she going to be married soon?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I'm aware of," Ruth answered, looking up with a start. "I +don't think she's even engaged."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg pardon. I thought you meant——"</p> + +<p>"I was only speaking generally," Ruth interrupted. "Mary Telfer, in my +judgment, is a girl in a thousand—bright, cheerful, domesticated, +and—and——"</p> + +<p>"Gilt-edged?" Ralph suggested.</p> + +<p>"Well, she will not be penniless."</p> + +<p>That night as Ralph lay awake he recalled his conversation with Ruth, +and almost heard in fancy the bright, rippling laughter of Mary Telfer; +and for the first time a thought flashed across his mind which grew +bigger and bigger as the days and weeks passed away.</p> + +<p>Would it be possible to put Dorothy Hamblyn out of his heart by trying +to put another in her place? Would the beauty of her face fade from his +memory if he constantly looked upon another face? Would he forget her if +he trained himself to think continually of someone else?</p> + +<p>These were questions that he could not answer right off, but there might +be no harm in making the experiment—at least, there might be no harm to +himself, but what about Mary?</p> + +<p>So he found himself faced by a number of questions at the same time, and +for none of them could he find a satisfactory answer.</p> + +<p>Then came an event in his life which he anticipated with a curious +thrill of excitement, and that was a journey to London. He almost shrank +from the enterprise at first. He had heard and read so much about +London—about its bigness, its crowds, its bewildering miles of streets, +its awful loneliness, its temptations and dangers, its squalor and +luxury, its penury and extravagance—that he was half afraid he might be +sucked up as by a mighty tide, and lost.</p> + +<p>There seemed, however, no other course open to him. He had tried to come +to terms with the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company, had offered to pay them +a royalty on all the stuff he manufactured, to purchase from them all +the raw material he used. But every offer, every suggestion of a +compromise, was met with a stern and emphatic negative.</p> + +<p>So he decided to take Mr. Telfer's advice, and consult Sir John +Liskeard. In order to do this he would have to make a journey to London. +How big with fate that journey was he little guessed at the time.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>IN LONDON TOWN</h3> + + +<p>Ralph remained in London considerably longer than he had intended. Sir +John Liskeard was a very busy man, and the questions raised by Ralph +required time to consider. The equity of the case was simple and +straightforward enough; the law was quite another matter. Moreover, as +Sir John had been asked to give not merely a legal opinion, but some +friendly advice, the relative strength of the litigants had to be taken +into account.</p> + +<p>Sir John was anxious to do his best for his young client. Ralph appeared +to be a coming man in the division he represented in Parliament, and as +Sir John's majority on the last election was only a narrow one, he was +naturally anxious to do all he could to strengthen his position in the +constituency. Hence he received Ralph very graciously, got him a seat +under the gallery during an important debate in the House of Commons, +took him to tea on the Terrace, pointed out to him most of the political +celebrities who happened to be in attendance at the House, and +introduced him to a few whom Ralph was particularly anxious to meet.</p> + +<p>Fresh from the country and from the humdrum of village life, with palate +unjaded and all his enthusiasms at the full, this was a peculiarly +delightful experience. It was pleasant to meet men in the flesh whom he +had read about in books and newspapers, pleasant to breathe—if only for +an hour—a new atmosphere, charged with a subtle energy he could not +define.</p> + +<p>Of course, there were painful disillusionments. Some noted people—in +appearance, at any rate—fell far short of his expectations. Great men +rose in the House to speak, and stuttered and spluttered the weakest and +emptiest platitudes. Honourables and right honourables and noble lords +appeared, in many instances, to be made of very common clay.</p> + +<p>Ralph found himself wondering, as many another man has done, as he sat +watching and listening, by what curious or fatuous fate some of these +men in the gathering ever climbed into their exalted positions.</p> + +<p>He put the question to Sir John when he had an opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Most of them do not climb at all," was the laughing answer. "They are +simply pitchforked."</p> + +<p>"But surely it is merit that wins in a place like this?"</p> + +<p>Sir John laughed again.</p> + +<p>"In some cases, no doubt. For instance, you see that short, thick-set +man yonder. Well, he's one of the most effective speakers in the House. +A few years ago he was a working shoemaker. Then you see that +white-headed man yonder, with large forehead and deep, sad-looking eyes. +Well, he was a village schoolmaster for thirty years, and now he is +acknowledged to be one of the ablest men we have. Then there is Blank, +in the corner seat there below the gangway, a most brilliant fellow—a +farmer's son, without any early advantages at all. But I don't suppose +that either of them will ever get into office, or into what you call an +exalted position."</p> + +<p>"But why not?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, well"—and Sir John shrugged his shoulders—"you see, the ruling +classes in this country belong to—well, to the ruling classes."</p> + +<p>"But I thought ours was a purely democratic form of government?"</p> + +<p>"It is. But the democracy dearly love a lord. They have no faith in +their own order. The ruling classes have; so they remain the ruling +classes. And who can blame them?"</p> + +<p>"Still, when so much is at stake, the best men ought to be at the head +of affairs."</p> + +<p>"Possibly they are—that is, the best available men. Tradition goes for +a good deal in a country like this. Certain positions are filled, as a +matter of course, by people of rank. An historic name counts for a good +deal."</p> + +<p>"But suppose the bearer of the historic name should happen to be a +fool?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, we muddle through somehow. Get an extra war or two, perhaps, +and an addition to the taxes and to the national debt. But we are a +patient people, and don't mind very much. Besides, the majority of the +people are easily gulled."</p> + +<p>"Then promotion goes by favour?" Ralph questioned after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course it does. Did you ever doubt it? Take the case of the +Imperial Secretary. Does any sane man in England, irrespective of creed +or party, imagine for a moment that he would have got into that position +if he had not been the nephew of a duke?"</p> + +<p>"But isn't he a capable man?"</p> + +<p>"Capable?"—and Sir John shrugged his shoulders again. "Why, if he had +to depend on his own merits he wouldn't earn thirty shillings a week in +any business house in the City."</p> + +<p>Ralph walked away from the House of Commons with a curious feeling of +elation and disappointment. He had been greatly delighted in some +respects, and terribly disappointed in others.</p> + +<p>In St. James's Park he sat down in the shadow of a large chestnut tree +and tried to sort out his emotions. He had been in London three days, +but had scarcely got his bearings yet. Everything was very new, very +strange, and very wonderful. On the whole, he thought he would be very +glad to get away from it. It seemed to him the loneliest place on earth. +On every side there was the ceaseless roar of traffic, like the breaking +of the sea, and yet there was not a friendly face or a familiar voice +anywhere in all the throng.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he started and leaned eagerly forward. That was a familiar +face, surely, and a familiar voice. Two people passed close to where he +sat—a young man and a young woman. Her skirts almost brushed his boots; +her sunshade—which she was swinging—came within an inch of his hand.</p> + +<p>Dorothy Hamblyn! The words leapt to his lips unconsciously, but he did +not utter them. She passed on brightly—joyously, it seemed to him, but +she was quite unaware of his presence. In the main, her eyes were fixed +on the young man by her side—a slim, faultlessly dressed young man, +with pale face, retreating chin, and a bored expression in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Ralph rose to his feet and followed them. His heart was beating fast, +his knees trembled in spite of himself, his brain was in a whirl. What +he purposed doing or where he purposed going never occurred to him. He +simply followed a sudden impulse, whether it led to his undoing or not.</p> + +<p>He kept them in sight until they reached Hyde Park Corner. Then the +crowd swallowed them up for several moments. But he caught sight of them +again on the other side and followed them into the Park. For several +minutes he had considerable difficulty in disentangling them from the +crowd of people that hurried to and fro, but a large white plume Dorothy +wore in her hat assisted him. They came to a full stop at length, and +sat down on a couple of chairs. He discovered an empty chair on the +other side of the road, and sat down opposite.</p> + +<p>He was near enough to see her features distinctly, near enough to see +the light sparkle in her eyes, but not near enough to hear anything she +said. That, however, did not matter. He was content for the moment to +look at her. He wanted nothing better.</p> + +<p>How beautiful she was! She was no longer the squire's "little maid," she +was a woman now. Nearly two years had passed since he last saw her, and +those years had ripened all her charms and rounded them into perfection.</p> + +<p>He could look his fill without being observed. If she cast her eyes in +his direction she would not recognise him—probably she had forgotten +his existence.</p> + +<p>His nerves were still thrilling with a strange ecstasy. His eyes drank +in greedily every line and curve and expression of her face. In all this +great London there was no other face, he was sure, that could compare +with it, no other smile that was half so sweet.</p> + +<p>She rose at length, slowly and with seeming reluctance, to her feet. Her +companion at once sprang to her side. Ralph rose also, and faced them. +Why he did so he did not know. He was still following a blind and +unreasoning impulse. She paused for a moment or two and looked +steadfastly in his direction, then turned and quickly walked away, and a +moment later was swallowed up in the multitude.</p> + +<p>Ralph took one step forward, then turned back and sat down with a jerk. +He had come to himself at last.</p> + +<p>"Well, I have played the fool with a vengeance," he muttered to himself. +"I have just pulled down all I have been trying for the last two years +to build up."</p> + +<p>The next moment he was unconscious of his surroundings again. Crowds of +people passed and re-passed, but he saw one face only, the face that had +never ceased to haunt him since the hour when, in her bright, imperious +way, she commanded him to open the gate.</p> + +<p>How readily and vividly he recalled every incident of that afternoon. He +felt her arms about his neck even now. He was hurrying across the downs +once more in the direction of St. Goram. His heart was thrilling with a +new sensation.</p> + +<p>He came to himself again after a while and sauntered slowly out of the +Park. Beauty and wealth and fashion jostled him on every side, but it +was a meaningless show to him. Had Ruth been with him she would have +gone into ecstasies over the hats and dresses, for such creations were +never seen in St. Goram, nor even dreamed of.</p> + +<p>Men have to be educated to appreciate the splendours and glories of +feminine attire, and, generally speaking, the education is a slow and +disappointing process. The male eye is not quick in detecting the +subtleties of lace and chiffon, the values of furs and furbelows.</p> + +<p>"Women dress to please the men," somebody has remarked. That may be true +in some cases. More frequently, it is to be feared, they dress to make +other women envious.</p> + +<p>Ralph's education in the particular line referred to had not even +commenced. He knew nothing of the philosophy of clothes. He was vaguely +conscious sometimes that some people were well dressed and others ill +dressed, that some women were gowned becomingly and others unbecomingly, +but beyond that generalisation he never ventured.</p> + +<p>He had begun to dress well himself almost without knowing it. He +instinctively avoided everything that was loud or noticeable. Nature had +given him a good figure—tall, erect, and well proportioned. Moreover, +he was free from the vanity which makes a man self-conscious, and he was +sufficiently well educated to know what constituted a gentleman.</p> + +<p>He got back to the small hotel at which he was staying in time for an +early dinner, after which he strolled into the Embankment Gardens and +listened to the band. Later still, he found himself sitting on one of +the seats in Trafalgar Square listening to the splash of the fountains +and dreaming of home, and yet in every dream stood out the exquisite +face and figure of Dorothy Hamblyn.</p> + +<p>Next morning, because he had nothing to do, and because he was already +tired of sight-seeing, he made his way again into St. James's Park, and +found a seat near the lake and in the shadow of the trees. He told +himself that he came there in the hope that he might see Dorothy Hamblyn +again.</p> + +<p>He knew it was a foolish thing to do. But he had come to the unheroic +conclusion during the night that it was of no use fighting against Fate. +He loved Dorothy Hamblyn passionately, madly, and that was the end of +it. He could not help it. He had tried his best to root out the foolish +infatuation, and he had almost hoped that he was succeeding. But +yesterday's experience had torn the veil from his eyes, and revealed to +him the fact that he was more hopelessly in love than ever.</p> + +<p>How angry he was with himself he did not know. The folly of it made him +ashamed. His presumption filled him with amazement. If anyone else of +his own class had done the same thing he would have laughed him to +scorn. In truth, he could have kicked himself for his folly.</p> + +<p>Then, unconsciously, his mood would change, and self-pity would take the +place of scorn. He was not to blame. He was the victim of a cruel and +cynical Fate. He was being punished for hating her father so intensely. +It was the Nemesis of an evil passion.</p> + +<p>He spent most of the day in the Park, and kept an eager look-out in all +directions; but the vision of Dorothy's face did not again gladden his +eyes. A hundred times he started, and the warm blood rushed in a torrent +to his face, then he would walk slowly on again.</p> + +<p>On the following morning he met Sir John Liskeard, by appointment, in +his chambers in the Temple.</p> + +<p>"He had been going into the case," he explained to Ralph, "with +considerable care, but even now he had not found out all he wanted to +know. He had, however, discovered one or two facts which had an +important bearing on the case."</p> + +<p>He was careful to explain, again, that in equity he considered Ralph's +claim incontestable, while nothing could be more honourable than the way +in which he had tried to come to terms with the company. He spoke +strongly of the high-handed and tyrannous way in which a rich and +powerful company were trying to crush a poor man and rob him of the +fruits of his skill and enterprise.</p> + +<p>But, on the other hand, there was no doubt whatever that the company +would be able to cite a clear case. To begin with, the agreement, or the +concession, was very loosely worded. Moreover, no time limit had been +set, which might imply that the company retained the right of +withdrawing the concession at any moment. It was also contended by some +of the shareholders that the company, as a whole, could not be held +responsible for mistakes made by the chairman. That, however, he held +was a silly contention, inasmuch as the agreement was stamped with the +company's seal, and was signed by the secretary and two directors.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, there could be no doubt that the concession had been +hurriedly made, no one at the time realising that there was any value in +the rubbish heap that had been accumulating for the biggest part of a +century. On one point, however, the company had cleverly forestalled +them. It had purchased, recently, the freehold of Daniel Rickard's farm. +This, no doubt, was a very astute move, and mightily strengthened the +company's position.</p> + +<p>"I am bound, also, to point out one other fact," the lawyer went on. "I +have discovered that both Lord Probus and Lord St. Goram are +considerable shareholders in the concern. They are both tremendously +impressed by what I may term 'the potentialities of the tailing heap.' +In fact, they believe there's a huge fortune in it, and they are +determined that the company shall reap the reward of your discovery."</p> + +<p>"They need not be so greedy," Ralph said bitterly. "They have both far +more than they know how to spend, and they might have been willing to +give a beginner a chance."</p> + +<p>"You know the old saying," Sir John said, with a smile. "'Much would +have more.'"</p> + +<p>"I've heard it," Ralph said moodily.</p> + +<p>"You will understand I am not talking to you merely as a lawyer. There +is no doubt whatever that you have a case, and a very clear case. I may +add, a very strong case."</p> + +<p>"And what, roughly speaking, would it cost to fight it in a court of +law?"</p> + +<p>Sir John shrugged his shoulders and smiled knowingly.</p> + +<p>"I might name a minimum figure," he said, and he did.</p> + +<p>Ralph started, and half rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>"That settles the matter," he said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"It would be a very unequal contest," Sir John remarked.</p> + +<p>"You mean——"</p> + +<p>"I mean, they could take it from court to court, and simply cripple you +with law costs."</p> + +<p>"So, as usual, the weak must go to the wall?"</p> + +<p>"To be quite candid with you, I could not advise you to risk what you +have made."</p> + +<p>"What I have made is very little indeed," Ralph answered.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had made a small fortune."</p> + +<p>"I could have made a little if I had been given time; but I have spent +most of the profit in increasing and improving the plant."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry. To say the least, it is rough on you."</p> + +<p>"It is what I have been used to all my life," Ralph said absently. "The +powerful appear to recognise no law but their own strength."</p> + +<p>When Ralph found himself in the street again his thoughts immediately +turned towards home.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>TRUTH WILL OUT</h3> + + +<p>Ralph went back to his hotel with the intention of packing his bag, and +returning home by the first available train. He had got what he came to +London to get, and there was no need for him to waste more time and +money in the big city. He was not disappointed. The learned counsel had +taken precisely the view he had expected, and had given the advice that +might be looked for from a friend and well-wisher.</p> + +<p>He was not sorry he had come. The reasoned opinion of a man of law and a +man of affairs was worth paying for. Though he had practically lost +everything, he would go back home better satisfied. He would not be able +to blame himself for either cowardice or stupidity. His business now was +to submit with the best grace possible to those who were more powerful +than himself.</p> + +<p>It was annoying, no doubt, to see the harvest of his research and +industry and enterprise reaped by other people—by people who had never +given an hour's thought or labour to the matter. But his experience was +by no means peculiar. It was only on rare occasions the inventor +profited by the labour of his brains. It was the financier who pocketed +the gold. The man of intellect laboured, the man of finance entered into +his labours.</p> + +<p>As Ralph made his way slowly along the Strand he could not help +wondering what his next move would be when he got home. As far as he +could see, he was on his beam-ends once more. There appeared to be no +further scope for enterprise in St. Ivel or in St. Goram. He might go +back to the mine again and work for fourteen shillings a week, but such +a prospect was not an inviting one. He was built on different lines from +most of his neighbours. The steady work and the steady wage and the +freedom from responsibility did not appeal to him as it appealed to so +many people. He rather liked responsibility. The question of wage was of +very secondary importance. He disliked the smooth, well-trodden paths. +The real interest in life was in carving out new paths for himself and +other people.</p> + +<p>But there were no new paths to be carved out in St. Ivel or in the +neighbouring parishes. The one new thing of a generation—born in his +own brain—had been taken out of his hands, and there was nothing left +but the old ruts, worn deep by the feet of many generations.</p> + +<p>He began to wonder what all the people who jostled him in the street did +for a living. Was there anything new or fresh in their lives, or did +they travel the same weary round day after day and year after year?</p> + +<p>The sight of so many people in the street doing nothing—or apparently +doing nothing—oppressed him. The side walks were crowded. 'Buses were +thronged, cabs and hansoms rolled past, filled, seemingly, with idle +people. And yet nearly everybody appeared to be eager and alert. What +were they after? What phantom were they pursuing? What object had they +in life? He turned down a quiet street at length, glad to escape the +noise and bustle, and sought the shelter of his hotel.</p> + +<p>Before proceeding to pack his bag, however, he consulted a time-table, +and discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that there was no train that +would take him to St. Goram that day. He could get as far as Plymouth, +but no farther.</p> + +<p>"It's no use making two bites at a cherry," he said to himself; "so I'll +stay where I am another day."</p> + +<p>An hour or two later he found himself once more in the Park in the +shadow of the trees. It was here he first saw Dorothy, and he cherished +a vague hope that she might pass that way again. He called himself a +fool for throwing oil on the flame of a hopeless passion, but in his +heart he pitied himself more than he blamed.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he needed something to draw away his thoughts from himself. If +he brooded too long on his disappointments, he might lose heart and +hope. It was much pleasanter to think of Dorothy than of the treatment +he had received at the hands of the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company, so he +threw himself, with a sigh, on an empty seat and watched the people +passing to and fro.</p> + +<p>Most people walked slowly, for the day was hot. The ladies carried +sunshades, and were clad in the flimsiest materials. The roar of the +streets was less insistent than when he sat there before. But London +still seemed to him an inexpressibly lonely place.</p> + +<p>He was never quite sure how long he sat there. An hour, perhaps. Perhaps +two hours. Time was not a matter that concerned him just then. His brain +kept alternating between the disappointments of the past and hopes of +the future. He came to himself with a start. The rustle of a dress, +accompanied by a faint perfume as of spring violets, caused him to raise +his head with a sudden movement.</p> + +<p>"I thought I could not be mistaken!"</p> + +<p>The words fell upon his ears with a curious sense of remoteness such as +one experiences sometimes in dreams.</p> + +<p>The next moment he was on his feet, his face aglow, his eyes sparkling +with intense excitement.</p> + +<p>"Did I not see you two days ago? Pardon me for speaking, but really, to +see one from home is like a draught of water to a thirsty traveller." +And Dorothy's voice ended in a little ripple of timid laughter.</p> + +<p>"It is a long time since you were at St. Goram?" he said, in a +questioning tone.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely remember how long," she answered. "It seems ages and ages. +Won't you tell me all the news?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," he said; and he walked away by her side.</p> + +<p>"Father writes to me every week or two," she went on, "but I can never +get any news out of him. I suppose it is that nothing happens in St. +Goram."</p> + +<p>"In the main we move in the old ruts," he answered slowly. "Besides, +your father will not be interested in the common people, as they are +called."</p> + +<p>"He is getting very tired of the place. He wants to get his household +into the very smallest compass, so that he can spend more time in London +and abroad."</p> + +<p>"Do you like living in London?"</p> + +<p>"In the winter, very much; but in the summer I pine for St. Goram. I +want the breeze of the downs and the shade of the plantation."</p> + +<p>"But you will be running down before the summer is over?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not. To begin with, I cannot get away very well, and then I +think my father intends practically to shut up the house at the end of +this month."</p> + +<p>"And your brother?"</p> + +<p>"He will stay with my Aunt Fanny in London—she is my father's sister, +you know—or he may go abroad with father for a month or two." And she +sighed unconsciously.</p> + +<p>For a while they walked on in silence. They had left the hot yellow path +for the green turf. In front of them was a belt of trees, with chairs +dotted about in the shadow. Ralph felt as though he were in dreamland. +It seemed scarcely credible that he should be walking and talking with +the daughter of Sir John Hamblyn.</p> + +<p>Dorothy broke the silence at length, and her words came with manifest +effort.</p> + +<p>"I hope my father expressed his regret, and apologised for the mistake +he made?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that," he said, with a short laugh, "I am afraid I have given +him no opportunity. You see, I have been very much occupied, and then I +don't live in St. Goram now."</p> + +<p>"And—and—your people?"</p> + +<p>"You know, I suppose, that my mother is dead?"</p> + +<p>"No; I had not heard. Oh, I am so sorry!"</p> + +<p>"She died the day after I came back from prison."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how sad!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she thought so. She was glad to welcome me back again, of +course, and to know that my innocence had been established. But since +father died she seemed to have nothing to live for."</p> + +<p>Then silence fell again for several minutes. They had reached the shadow +of the trees, and Dorothy suggested that they should sit down and rest a +while. Ralph pulled up a chair nearly opposite her. He still felt like +one in a dream. Every now and then he raised his eyes to her face, and +thought how beautiful she had grown.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she said, breaking the silence again, "I was almost +afraid to speak to you just now."</p> + +<p>"Afraid?"</p> + +<p>"You have suffered a good deal at our hands."</p> + +<p>"Well?" His heart was in a tumult, but he kept himself well in hand.</p> + +<p>"It must require a good deal of grace to keep you from hating us most +intensely."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am not as good a hater as I would like to be."</p> + +<p>"As you would like to be?"</p> + +<p>"It has not been for want of trying, I can assure you. But Fate loves to +make fools of us."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I quite understand," she said, looking puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to understand?" he questioned, speaking slowly and +steadily, though every drop of blood in his veins seemed to be at +boiling point.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very much," she answered, making a hole in the ground with her +sunshade.</p> + +<p>"Then you shall know," he said, with his eyes on some distant object. He +had grown quite reckless. He feared nothing, cared for nothing. It would +be a huge joke to tell this proud daughter of the house of Hamblyn the +honest truth. Moreover, it might help him to defy the Fate that was +mocking him, might help to relieve the tension of the last few days, and +would certainly put an end to the possibility of her ever speaking to +him again.</p> + +<p>"You are right when you say I have suffered a good deal, I won't say at +your hands, but at the hands of your father, and Heaven knows my hatred +of him has not lacked intensity." Then he paused suddenly and looked at +her, but she did not raise her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are his daughter," he went on, slowly and bitingly, "his own flesh +and blood. You bear a name that I loathe more than any other name on +earth."</p> + +<p>She winced visibly, and her cheeks became crimson.</p> + +<p>"But Fate has been cruel to me in every way. Your very kindness to me, +to Ruth, to my mother, has only added to my torture——"</p> + +<p>"Added to——"</p> + +<p>But he did not let her finish the sentence. His nerves were strung up to +the highest point of tension. He felt, in a sense, outside himself. He +was no longer master of his own emotions.</p> + +<p>"Had you been like your father," he continued, "I could have hated you +also. But it may be that, to punish me for hating your father so +bitterly, God made me love you."</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet in a moment, her face ashen.</p> + +<p>"Don't go away," he said, quietly and deliberately. "It will do you no +harm to hear me out. I did not seek this interview. I shall never seek +another. A man who has been in prison, and whose mother died in the +workhouse——"</p> + +<p>"In the workhouse?" she said, with a gasp.</p> + +<p>"Thanks to your father," he said slowly and bitterly. "And yet, in spite +of all this, I had dared to love you. No, don't sneer at me," he said, +mistaking a motion of her lips. "God knows I have about as much as I can +bear. I tried to hate you. I felt it almost a religious duty to hate +you. I fought against the passion that has conquered me till I had no +strength left."</p> + +<p>She had sat down again, with her eyes upon the ground, but her bosom was +heaving as though a tempest raged beneath.</p> + +<p>"Why have you told me this?" she said at length, with a sudden fierce +light in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hardly know," he said, with a reckless laugh. "For the fun of it, +I expect. Don't imagine I have any ulterior object in view, save that of +self-defence."</p> + +<p>"Self-defence?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; you will despise me now. My effrontery and impertinence will be +too much even for your large charity. I can fancy how the tempest of +your scorn is gathering. I don't mind it. Let it rage. It may help to +turn my heart against you."</p> + +<p>She did not answer him; she sat quite still with her eyes fixed upon the +ground.</p> + +<p>He looked at her for several moments in silence, and his mood began to +change. What spirit had possessed him to talk as he had done?</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet at length, and raised her eyes timidly to his face. +Whether she was angry or disgusted, or only sorry, he could not tell.</p> + +<p>He rose also, but he scarcely dared to look at her.</p> + +<p>"Good-afternoon," she said at length; and she held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>"Good-afternoon," he answered; but he did not take her outstretched +hand, he pretended not even to see it.</p> + +<p>He stood still and watched her walk away out into the level sunshine; +watched her till she seemed but a speck of colour in the hazy distance. +Then, with a sigh, he turned his face towards the City. He still felt +more or less like one in a dream: there seemed to be an air of unreality +about everything. Perhaps he would come to himself directly and discover +that he was not in London at all.</p> + +<p>He did not return to his hotel until nearly bedtime. The porter handed +him a letter which came soon after he went out.</p> + +<p>It was from Sir John Liskeard, and requested that Ralph would call on +him again at his rooms in the Temple on the following morning, any time +between ten and half-past. No reason was given why Sir John wanted this +second interview.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood staring at the letter for several moments, then slowly put +it back into the envelope, and into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps some new facts have come to light," he said to himself, as he +made his way slowly up the stairs, and a thrill of hope and expectancy +shot through his heart. "Perhaps my journey to London may not be without +fruit after all. I wonder now——"</p> + +<p>And when he awoke next morning he was still wondering.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>HOME AGAIN</h3> + + +<p>"I am sorry to have troubled you to call again," was Sir John's +greeting, "but there is a little matter that quite slipped my memory +yesterday. Won't you be seated?"</p> + +<p>Ralph sat down, still hoping that he was going to hear some good news.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing about the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company," Sir John went +on, "and, in fact, nothing that concerns you personally."</p> + +<p>Ralph's face fell, and the sparkle went out of his eyes. It was foolish +of him ever to hope for anything. Good news did not come his way. He did +not say anything, however.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, a friend of mine is considering the advisability of +purchasing Hillside Farm, and has asked me to make one or two inquiries +about it."</p> + +<p>Ralph gave a little gasp, but remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Now, I presume," Sir John said, with a little laugh, "if there is a man +alive who knows everything about the farm there is to be known you are +that man."</p> + +<p>"But I do not understand," Ralph said. "I have always understood that +the Hamblyn estate is strictly entailed."</p> + +<p>"That is true of the original estate. But you may or you may not be +aware that Hillside came to Sir John by virtue of the Land Enclosures +Act."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I know all about that," Ralph said, with a touch of scorn in +his voice; "and a most iniquitous Act it was."</p> + +<p>Sir John shrugged his shoulders, a very common habit of his. It was not +his place to speak ill of an Act of Parliament which had put a good deal +of money into his pocket and into the pockets of his professional +brethren in all parts of the country.</p> + +<p>"Into the merits of this particular Act," he said, a little stiffly, "we +need not enter now. Suffice it that Hamblyn is quite at liberty to +dispose of the freehold if he feels so inclined."</p> + +<p>"And he intends to sell Hillside Farm?"</p> + +<p>"Well, between ourselves, he does—that is, if he can get rid of it by +private treaty. Naturally, he does not want the matter talked about. I +understand there is a very valuable stone quarry in one corner of the +estate."</p> + +<p>"There is a quarry," Ralph answered slowly, for his thoughts were intent +on another matter, "but whether it is very valuable or not I cannot say. +I should judge it is not of great value, or the squire would not want to +sell the freehold."</p> + +<p>"When a man is compelled to raise a large sum of money there is +frequently for him no option."</p> + +<p>"And is that the case with Sir John?"</p> + +<p>"There can be no doubt whatever that he is hard up. His life interest in +the Hamblyn estate is, I fancy, mortgaged to the hilt. If he can sell +Hillside Farm at the price he is asking for it, he will have some ready +cash to go on with."</p> + +<p>"What is the price he names?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty years' purchase on the net rental—the same on the mineral +dues."</p> + +<p>"There are no mineral dues," Ralph said quickly, and his thoughts flew +back in a moment to that conversation he had with his father.</p> + +<p>"Well, quarry dues, then," Sir John said, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"And is your friend likely to purchase?" Ralph questioned.</p> + +<p>"I believe he would like the farm. But he is a cautious man, and is +anxious to find out all he can before he strikes a bargain."</p> + +<p>"And will he be guided by your advice?"</p> + +<p>"In the main he will."</p> + +<p>"Then, if you are his friend, you will advise him to make haste slowly."</p> + +<p>"You think the farm is not worth the money?"</p> + +<p>"To the ordinary investor I am sure it is not. To the man who wants it +for some sentimental reason the case is different."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if I were a rich man, for instance, I might be disposed to give a +good deal more for it than it is worth. You see, I helped to reclaim the +land from the waste. I know every bush and tree on the farm. I remember +every apple tree being planted. I love the place, for it was my home. My +father died there——"</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you buy it?" interrupted Sir John.</p> + +<p>Ralph laughed.</p> + +<p>"You might as well ask me why I don't buy the moon," he said. "If I had +been allowed to go on with my present work I might have been able to buy +it in time. Now it is quite out of the question."</p> + +<p>"That is a pity," Sir John said meditatively.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that it is," Ralph answered. "One cannot live on +sentiment."</p> + +<p>"And yet sentiment plays a great part in one's life."</p> + +<p>"No doubt it does, but with the poor the first concern is how to live."</p> + +<p>"Then, sentiment apart, you honestly think the place is not worth the +money?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it isn't. Jenkins told me not long ago that if he could not +get his rent lowered he should give up the farm."</p> + +<p>"And what about the quarry?"</p> + +<p>"It will be worked out in half a dozen years at the outside."</p> + +<p>"You think so?"</p> + +<p>"I do honestly. I've no desire to do harm to the squire, though God +knows he has been no friend to me. But twenty years' purchase at the +present rental and dues would be an absurd price."</p> + +<p>"I think it is rather stiff myself."</p> + +<p>"Is Sir John selling the place through some local agent or solicitor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. Messrs. Begum & Swear, Chancery Lane, are acting for him."</p> + +<p>An hour later, Ralph was rolling away in an express train towards the +west. He sat next the window, and kept his eyes steadily fixed on the +scenery through which he passed. And yet he saw very little of it; his +thoughts were too intent on other things. Towns, villages, hamlets, +homesteads, flew past, but he scarcely heeded. Wooded hills drew near +and faded away in the distance. The river gleamed and flashed and hid +itself. Gaily-dressed people made patches of colour in shady backwaters +for a moment; the sparkle of a weir caught his eye, and was gone.</p> + +<p>It was only in after days that he recalled the incidents of the journey; +for the moment he could think of nothing but Dorothy Hamblyn and the +sale of Hillside Farm. The sudden failure of his small commercial +enterprise did not worry him. He knew the worst of that. To cry over +spilt milk was waste both of time and energy. His business was not to +bewail the past, but to face resolutely the future.</p> + +<p>But Dorothy and the fate of Hillside Farm belonged to a different +category. Dorothy he could not forget, try as he would. She had stolen +his heart unconsciously, and he would never love another. At least, he +would never love another in the same deep, passionate, overmastering +way. He was still angry with himself for his mad outburst of the +previous day, and could not imagine what possessed him to speak as he +did. He wondered, too, what she thought of him. Was her feeling one of +pity, or anger, or amusement, or contempt, or was it a mixture of all +these qualities?</p> + +<p>Then, for a while, she would pass out of his mind, and a picture of +Hillside Farm would come up before his vision. On the whole, he was not +sorry that the squire was compelled to sell. It was a sort of Nemesis, a +rough-and-ready vindication of justice and right.</p> + +<p>The place never was his in equity, whatever it might be in law. If it +belonged to anybody, it belonged to the man who reclaimed it from the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>No, he was not sorry that the squire was unable to keep it. It seemed to +restore his faith in the existence of a moral order. A man who was not +worthy to be a steward—who abused the power he possessed—ought to be +deposed. It was in the eternal fitness of things that he should give +place to a better man.</p> + +<p>Ruth met him at St. Ivel Road Station, and they walked home together in +the twilight. They talked fitfully, with long breaks in the +conversation. He had told her by letter the result of his mission, so +that he had nothing of importance to communicate.</p> + +<p>"The men are very much cut up," she said, after a little lull in their +talk, which had been mainly about London. "Several of them called this +afternoon to know if I had heard any news; and when I told them that you +were not going to contest the claim of the company, and that the works +would cease, they looked as if they would cry."</p> + +<p>"I hope they will be able to get work somewhere else," he answered +quietly.</p> + +<p>"But they will not get such wages as you have been giving them. You +cannot imagine how popular you are. I believe the men would do anything +for you."</p> + +<p>"I believe they would do anything in reason," he said. "I have tried to +treat them fairly, and I am quite sure they have done their best to +treat me fairly. People are generally paid back in their own coin."</p> + +<p>"And have you any idea what you will do next?" she questioned, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"Not the ghost of an idea, Ruth. If I had not you to think of, I would +go abroad and try my fortune in a freer air."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about going abroad," she said, with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"Yet it may have to come to it," he answered. "One feels bound hand and +foot in a country like this."</p> + +<p>"But are other countries any better?"</p> + +<p>"The newer countries of the West and our own Colonies do not seem quite +so hidebound. What with our land laws and our mineral dues, and our +leasehold systems, and our patent laws, and our precedents, and our +rights of way and all the bewildering entanglements of red-tapeism, one +feels as helpless as a squirrel in a cage. One cannot walk out on the +hills, or sit on the cliffs, or fish in the sea without permission of +somebody. All the streams and rivers are owned; all the common land has +been appropriated; all the minerals a hundred fathoms below the surface +are somebody's by divine right. One wonders that the very atmosphere has +not been staked out into freeholds."</p> + +<p>"But things are as they have always been, dear," Ruth said quietly.</p> + +<p>"No, not always," he said, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, for a very long time, anyhow. And, after all, they are no worse +for us than for other people."</p> + +<p>He did not reply to this remark. Getting angry with the social order did +not mend things, and he had no wish to carp and cavil when no good could +come of it.</p> + +<p>Within the little cottage everything was ready for the evening meal. The +kettle was singing on the hob, the table was laid, the food ready to be +brought in.</p> + +<p>"It is delightful to be home again," Ralph said, throwing himself into +his easy-chair. "After all, there's no place like home."</p> + +<p>"And did you like London?"</p> + +<p>"Yes and no," he answered meditatively. "It is a very wonderful place, +and I might grow to be fond of it in time. But it seemed to be so +terribly lonely, and then one's vision seemed so cramped. One could only +look down lines of streets—you are shut in by houses everywhere. The +sun rose behind houses, set behind houses. You wanted to see the distant +spaces, to look across miles of country, to catch glimpses of the +far-off hills, but the houses shut out everything. Oh, it is a lonely +place!"</p> + +<p>"And yet it is crowded with people?"</p> + +<p>"And that adds to the feeling of loneliness," he replied. "You are +jostled and bumped on every side, and you know nobody. Not a face in all +the thousands you recognise."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see it all some day."</p> + +<p>"Some day you shall," he said. "If ever I grow rich enough you shall +have a month there. But let us not talk of London just now. Has anything +happened since I went away?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"And has nobody been to see you?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody except Mary Telfer. She has come in most days, and always like a +ray of sunshine."</p> + +<p>"She is a very cheerful little body," Ralph said, and then began to +attack his supper.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later he looked up and said—</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear the old saying, Ruth, that one has to go from home to +hear news?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," she said, with a laugh. "Who hasn't?"</p> + +<p>"I had rather a remarkable illustration of the old saw this morning."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?"</p> + +<p>"I had to go to London to learn that Hillside Farm is for sale."</p> + +<p>"For sale, Ralph?"</p> + +<p>"So Sir John Liskeard told me. I warrant that nobody in St. Goram +knows."</p> + +<p>"Are you very sorry?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. The squire squeezed his tenants for all they were worth, and +now the money-lenders are squeezing him. It's only poetic justice, after +all."</p> + +<p>"Yet surely he is to be pitied?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. Every man is to be pitied who fools away his money on the +Turf and on other questionable pursuits, and yet when the pinch comes +you cannot help saying it serves him right."</p> + +<p>"But nobody suffers alone, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"I know that," he answered, the colour mounting suddenly to his cheeks. +"But as far as his son Geoffrey is concerned, it may do him good not to +have unlimited cash."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of Geoffrey. I was thinking of Miss Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"It may do her good also," he said, a little savagely. "Women are none +the worse for knowing the value of a sovereign."</p> + +<p>For several minutes there was silence; then Ruth said, without raising +her eyes—</p> + +<p>"I wish we were rich, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"For why?" he questioned with a smile, half guessing what was in her +mind.</p> + +<p>"We would buy Hillside Farm."</p> + +<p>"You would like to go back there again to live?"</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't I just! Oh, Ralph, it would be like heaven!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure that I should like to go back," he said, after a long +pause.</p> + +<p>"No?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think the pain would outweigh the pleasure?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. I think father and mother wander through the orchard and across +the fields still, and I should feel nearer to them there; and I'm sure +it would make heaven a better place for them if they knew we were back +in the old home."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," he said, with a sigh, "that is a dream we cannot indulge in. +Sir John Liskeard asked me why I did not buy it."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say to him?"</p> + +<p>"What could I say, Ruth, except that I could just as easily buy the +moon?"</p> + +<p>"Would the freehold cost so much?"</p> + +<p>"As the moon?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I don't mean that, you silly boy; but is land so very, very +dear?"</p> + +<p>"Compared with land in or near big towns or cities, it is very, very +cheap."</p> + +<p>"But I mean it would take a lot of money to buy Hillside?"</p> + +<p>"You and I would think it a lot." And then the sound of footsteps was +heard outside, followed a moment later by a timid knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who it can be?" Ruth said, starting to her feet. "I'm glad you +are at home, or I should feel quite nervous."</p> + +<p>"Do you think burglars would knock at the front door and ask if they +might come in?" he questioned, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Ruth did not reply, but went at once to the door and opened it, much +wondering who their visitor could be, for it was very rarely anyone +called at so late an hour.</p> + +<p>It had grown quite dark outside, so that she could only see the outline +of two tall figures standing in the garden path.</p> + +<p>She was quickly reassured by a familiar voice saying—</p> + +<p>"Is your brother at home, Miss Penlogan?"</p> + +<p>And then for some reason the hot blood rushed in a torrent to her neck +and face.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>A TRYING POSITION</h3> + + +<p>William Menire was troubled about two things—troubles rarely come +singly. The first trouble arose a week or two previously out of a +request preferred by a cousin of his, a young farmer from a neighbouring +parish, who wanted an introduction to Ruth Penlogan.</p> + +<p>Sam Tremail was a good-looking young fellow of irreproachable character. +Moreover, he was well-to-do, his father and mother having retired and +left a large farm on his hands. He stood nearly six feet in his boots, +had never known a day's illness in his life, was only twenty-six years +of age, lived in a capital house, and only wanted a good wife to make +him the happiest man on earth.</p> + +<p>Yet for some reason there was not a girl in his own parish that quite +took his fancy. Not that there was any lack of eligible young ladies; +not that he had set his heart on either beauty or fortune. Disdainful +and disappointed mothers who had daughters to spare said that he was +proud and stuck-up—that they did not know what the young men of the +present day were coming to, and that Sam Tremail deserved to catch a +tartar.</p> + +<p>Some of these remarks were repeated to Sam, and he acknowledged their +force. He had a feeling that he ought to marry a girl from his own +parish. He admitted their eligibility. Some of them were exceedingly +pretty, and one or two of them had money in their own right. Yet for +some reason they left his heart untouched. They were admirable as +acquaintances, or even friends, but they moved him to no deeper emotion.</p> + +<p>He first caught sight of Ruth at the sale when her father's worldly +goods were being disposed of by public auction. She looked so sad, so +patient, so gentle, so meekly resigned, that a new chord in his nature +seemed to be set suddenly vibrating, and it had gone on vibrating ever +since. It might be pity he felt for her, or sympathy; but, whatever it +was, it made him anxious to know her better. Her sweet, sad eyes haunted +him, her tremulous lips made him long to comfort her.</p> + +<p>How to get acquainted with her, however, remained an insoluble problem. +She was altogether outside the circle of his friends. She had lived all +her life in another parish, and moved in an entirely different orbit.</p> + +<p>While she lived with Mr. Varcoe at St. Hilary, he met her several times +in the streets—for he went to St. Hilary market at least once a +fortnight—but he had no excuse for speaking to her. He knew, of course, +of the misfortune that had overtaken her, knew that she was earning her +living in service of some kind, knew that her mother was in the +workhouse, that her brother was in prison awaiting his trial, but all +that only increased the volume of his compassion. He felt that he would +willingly give all he possessed for the privilege of helping and +comforting her.</p> + +<p>For a long time he lost sight of her; then he learned that she had gone +to keep house for her brother at St. Ivel. But St. Ivel was a long way +from Pentudy, and there was practically no direct communication between +the two parishes.</p> + +<p>Then he learned that William Menire—a second cousin of his—was on +friendly terms with the Penlogans; but the trouble was he hardly knew +his relative by sight, and he had never made any effort to know him +better. In the past, at any rate, the Menires had not been considered +socially the equals of the Tremails. The Tremails had been large farmers +for generations. The Menires were nothing in particular.</p> + +<p>William was a grocer's assistant when his father died. How he had +managed to maintain his mother and build up a flourishing business out +of nothing was a story often told in St. Goram. The very severity of his +struggle was perhaps in his favour. His neighbours sympathised with him +in his uphill fight, and patronised his small shop when it was +convenient to do so. So his business grew. Later on people discovered +that they could get better stuff for the money at William's shop than +almost anywhere else. Hence, when sympathy failed, self-interest took +its place. As William's capital increased, he added new departments to +his business, and vastly improved the appearance of his premises. He +turned the whole side of his shop into a big window at his own expense, +not asking Lord St. Goram for a penny.</p> + +<p>At the time of which we write, William had reached the sober age of +thirty-six, and was generally looked upon as a man of substance.</p> + +<p>He was surprised one evening to receive a visit from his cousin, Sam +Tremail. The young farmer had to make himself known. He did so in rather +a clumsy fashion; but then, the task he had set himself was a delicate +one, and he had not been trained in the art of diplomacy.</p> + +<p>"It seems a pity," Sam said, with a benevolent smile, "that relatives +should be as strangers to each other."</p> + +<p>"Relationships don't count for much in these days, I fear," William +answered cautiously. "Nevertheless, I am glad to see you."</p> + +<p>"You think it is every man for himself, eh?" Sam questioned, with a +slight blush.</p> + +<p>"I don't say it is the philosophy or the practice of every man. But in +the main——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think you are right," Sam interjected, with a sudden burst of +candour. "And, really, I don't want you to think that I am absolutely +disinterested in riding over from Pentudy to see you."</p> + +<p>"It is a long journey for nothing," William said, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Mind you, I have often wanted to know you better," Sam went on. "Father +has often spoken of your pluck and perseverance. He admires you +tremendously."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of him," William said, with a touch of cynicism in his +tones. "I hope he is well. I have not seen him for years."</p> + +<p>"He is first rate, thank you, and so is mother. I suppose you know they +have retired from the farm?"</p> + +<p>"No, I had not heard."</p> + +<p>"I have it in my own hands now. For some things I wish I hadn't. I tried +to persuade father and mother to live on in the house, but they had made +up their minds to go and live in town, where they could have gas in the +streets, and all that kind of thing. If I had only a sister to keep +house it wouldn't be so bad."</p> + +<p>"But why don't you get married?"</p> + +<p>"Well, to tell you the truth, that is the very thing I have come to talk +to you about."</p> + +<p>And Sam turned all ways in his chair, and looked decidedly +uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"Come to talk to me about?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise.</p> + +<p>"You think it funny, of course; but the truth is——" And Sam looked +apprehensively towards the door. "We shall not be overheard here, shall +we?"</p> + +<p>"There's no one in the house but myself, except the cook. Mother's gone +out to see a neighbour."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I'm glad I've caught you on the quiet, as it were. I wouldn't +have the matter talked about for the world."</p> + +<p>William began to feel uncomfortable, and to wonder what his kinsman had +been up to.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not been getting into any foolish matrimonial +entanglement?" he questioned seriously.</p> + +<p>Sam laughed heartily and good-humouredly.</p> + +<p>"No, no; things are not quite so bad as that," he said. "The fact is, I +would like to get into a matrimonial entanglement, as you call it, but +not into a foolish one."</p> + +<p>Then he stopped suddenly, and began to fidget again in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Then you are not engaged yet?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not quite."</p> + +<p>And Sam laughed again.</p> + +<p>William waited for him to continue, but Sam appeared to start off on an +entirely new tack.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I've been in St. Goram parish since the sale at Hillside +Farm. You remember it?"</p> + +<p>"Very well!"</p> + +<p>"How bad luck seems to dog the steps of some people. I felt tremendously +sorry for David Penlogan. He was a good man, by all accounts."</p> + +<p>"There was no more saintly man in the three parishes."</p> + +<p>"The mischief is, saints are generally so unpractical. They tell me the +son is of different fibre."</p> + +<p>"He's as upright as his father, but with a difference."</p> + +<p>"A cruel thing to send him to gaol on suspicion, and keep him there so +long."</p> + +<p>"It was a wicked thing to do, but it hasn't spoilt him. He's the most +popular man in St. Ivel to-day."</p> + +<p>"I remember him at the sale—a handsome, high-spirited fellow; but his +sister interested me most. I thought her smile the sweetest I had ever +seen."</p> + +<p>"She's as sweet as her smile, and a good deal more so," William said, +with warmth. "In fact, she has no equal hereabouts."</p> + +<p>"I hear you are on friendly terms with them."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," William said slowly. "Not that I would presume to call +myself their equal, for they are in reality very superior people. +There's no man in St. Goram, and I include the landed folk, so well +educated or so widely read as Ralph Penlogan."</p> + +<p>"And his sister?"</p> + +<p>"She's a lady, every inch of her," William said warmly; "and what is +more, they'll make their way in the world. He's ability, and of no +ordinary kind. The rich folk may crush him for a moment, but he'll come +into his own in the long-run."</p> + +<p>"Are they the proud sort?"</p> + +<p>"Proud? Well, it all depends on what you mean by the word. Dignity they +have, self-respect, independence; but pride of the common or garden sort +they haven't a bit."</p> + +<p>"I thought I could not be mistaken," Sam said, after a pause; "and to +tell you the honest truth, I've never been able to think of any other +girl since I saw Miss Penlogan at the sale."</p> + +<p>William started and grew very pale.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I quite understand," he said, after a long pause.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Sam questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I do," William answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do," Sam retorted. "A man may fall desperately in love with a +girl without even speaking to her."</p> + +<p>"Well?" William questioned.</p> + +<p>"That's just my case."</p> + +<p>"Your case?"</p> + +<p>Sam nodded.</p> + +<p>"Explain yourself," William said, with a curiously numb feeling at his +heart.</p> + +<p>"Mind, I am speaking to you in perfect confidence," Sam said.</p> + +<p>William assented.</p> + +<p>"I was taken with Ruth Penlogan the very first moment I set eyes on her. +I don't think it was pity, mind you, though I did pity her from my very +heart. Her great sad eyes; her sweet, patient face; her gentle, pathetic +smile—they just bowled me over. I could have knelt down at her feet and +worshipped her."</p> + +<p>"You didn't do it?" William questioned huskily.</p> + +<p>"It was neither the time nor the place, and I have never had an +opportunity since. I saw her again and again in the streets of St. +Hilary, but, of course, I could not speak to her, and I didn't know a +soul who could get me an introduction."</p> + +<p>"And you mean that you are in love with her?"</p> + +<p>"I expect I am," Sam answered, with an uneasy laugh. "If I'm not in +love, I don't know what ails me. I want a wife badly. A man in a big +house without a wife to look after things is to be pitied. Well, that's +just my case."</p> + +<p>"But—but——" William began; then hesitated.</p> + +<p>"You mean that there are plenty of eligible girls in Pentudy?" Sam +questioned. "I don't deny it. We have any amount. All sorts and sizes, +if you'll excuse me saying so. Girls with good looks and girls with +money. Girls of weight, and girls with figures. But they don't interest +me, not one of them. I compare 'em all with Ruth Penlogan, and then it's +all up a tree."</p> + +<p>"But you have never spoken to Miss Penlogan."</p> + +<p>"That's just the point I'm coming to. The Penlogans are friends of +yours. You go to their house sometimes. Now I want you to take me with +you some day and introduce me. Don't you see? There's no impropriety in +it. I'm perfectly honest and sincere. I want to get to know her, and +then, of course, I'll take my chance."</p> + +<p>William looked steadily at his kinsman, and a troubled expression came +into his eyes. He loved Ruth Penlogan himself, loved her with a +passionate devotion that once he hardly believed possible. She had +become the light of his eyes, the sunshine of his life. He hardly +realised until this moment how much she had become to him. The thought +of her being claimed by another man was almost torture to him; and yet, +ought he to stand in the way of her happiness?</p> + +<p>This might be the working of an inscrutable Providence. Sam Tremail, +from all he had ever heard, was a most excellent fellow. He could place +Ruth in a position that was worthy of her, and one that she would in +every way adorn. He could lift her above the possibility of want, and +out of reach of worry. He could give her a beautiful home and an assured +position.</p> + +<p>"I hope you do not think this is a mere whim of mine, or an idle fancy?" +Sam said, seeing that William hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, not at all," William answered, a little uneasily. "I was +thinking that it was a little bit unusual."</p> + +<p>"It is unusual, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"And to take you along and say, 'My cousin is very anxious to know you,' +would be to let the cat out of the bag at the start."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think so, now? There must be a reason for everything. And the +very first question Miss Penlogan would ask herself would be, 'Why does +this young man want to know me?'"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know that that would matter. Indeed, it might help me +along."</p> + +<p>"But when you got to know her better you might not care for her quite so +much."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no. The chances are the other way about. Only there is no +accounting for people, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am fickle," Sam answered seriously.</p> + +<p>"Still, so far it is only a pretty face that has attracted you."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, it is more than that. It is the character behind the face. I am +sure she is good. She appeals to me as no other woman has ever done. I +am not afraid of not loving her. It is the other thing that troubles +me."</p> + +<p>"You think she might not care for you?"</p> + +<p>"She could not do so at the start. You see I have been dreaming of her +for the last two years. She has filled my imagination, if you +understand. I have been worshipping her all the time. But on her side +there is nothing. She does not know, very likely, there is such an +individual in existence. I am not even a name to her. Hence, there is a +tremendous amount of leeway to make up."</p> + +<p>"Still, you have many things in your favour," William answered, a little +plaintively. "First of all, you are young"—and William sighed +unconsciously—"then you are well-to-do; and then—and then—you are +good-looking"—and William sighed again—"and then your house is ready, +and you have no encumbrances. Yes, you have many things in your favour."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you think so," Sam said cheerfully, "for, to tell you the +truth, I'm awfully afraid she won't look at me."</p> + +<p>William sighed again, for his fear was in the other direction. And yet +he felt he ought not to be selfish. To play the part of the dog in the +manger was a very unworthy thing to do. He had no hope of winning Ruth +for himself. That Sam Tremail loved her a hundredth part as much as he +did, he did not believe possible. How could he? But then, on the other +hand, Sam was just the sort of fellow to take a girl's fancy.</p> + +<p>"I can't go over with you this evening," William said at length. "They +are early people, and I know Ralph is very much worried just now over +business matters."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's no hurry for a day or two," Sam said cheerfully. "The great +thing is, you'll take me along some evening?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," William answered, slowly and painfully. "I couldn't do less +than that very well."</p> + +<p>"And I don't ask you to do more," Sam replied, with a laugh. "I must do +the rest myself."</p> + +<p>William did not sleep very much that night. For some reason, the thought +of Ruth Penlogan getting married had scarcely crossed his mind. There +seemed to him nobody in St. Goram or St. Ivel that was worthy of her. +Hence the appearance of Sam Tremail on the scene intent on marrying her +was like the falling of an avalanche burying his hope and his desire.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was bound to come some time," he sighed to himself; "and +I'd rather she married Sam than some folks I know. But—but it's very +hard all the same."</p> + +<p>A week later Sam rode over to St. Goram again. But Ralph was in London, +and William refused to take him to the Penlogans' cottage during Ralph's +absence.</p> + +<p>On the day of Ralph's return, Sam came a third time.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll take you this evening," William said. "I want to see Ralph +myself. I've great faith in Ralph's judgment." And William sighed.</p> + +<p>"Is something troubling you?" Sam asked, with a sudden touch of +apprehension.</p> + +<p>"I am a bit worried," William answered slowly, "and troubles never come +singly."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do for you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so," William answered. "But get on your hat; it's a +goodish walk."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>A QUESTION OF MOTIVES</h3> + + +<p>William introduced his cousin with an air of easy indifference, +apologised for calling at so late an hour, but excused himself on the +ground that he wanted to see Ralph particularly on a little matter of +business. Sam was welcomed graciously and heartily, for William's sake. +William had been almost the best friend they had ever known. In the +darkest days of their life he had come to them almost a stranger, had +revealed the kindness of his heart in numberless little ways, had kept +himself in the background with a delicacy and sensitiveness worthy of +all praise, and had never once presumed on the kindness he had shown +them.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two William saw only Ruth, and he thought she had never +looked more charming and winsome. The warmth of her welcome he +attributed entirely to a sense of gratitude on her part, and he was very +grateful that she counted him worthy to be her friend. When he saw his +cousin glance at her with admiring eyes, a pang of jealousy shot through +him such as he had never experienced before. He had scarcely troubled +till now that his youth had slipped away from him; but when he looked at +Sam's smooth, handsome face; his wealth of hair, untouched by Time; his +tall, vigorous frame—he could not help wishing that he were ten years +younger, and not a shopkeeper.</p> + +<p>Sam and Ruth quickly got into conversation, and then Ralph led William +into a little parlour which he used as an office.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the remotest idea what I am going to do," Ralph said, in +answer to a question from William, "though I know well enough what I +would do if I only had money."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" William questioned, raising his eyes slowly.</p> + +<p>"I'd buy the freehold of Hillside Farm."</p> + +<p>"It isn't for sale, is it?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise.</p> + +<p>"It is." And Ralph informed him how he came by the information.</p> + +<p>For several minutes there was silence in the room, then William said, as +if speaking to himself—</p> + +<p>"But the place isn't worth the money."</p> + +<p>"To a stranger—no; but to me it might be cheap at the price."</p> + +<p>"Are you so good at farming?"</p> + +<p>Ralph laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, no," he answered. "I'm afraid farming is not exactly my forte; +but let us drop the subject. As I told Sir John Liskeard, I might as +well think of buying the moon."</p> + +<p>"But you are fond of the old place?" William questioned.</p> + +<p>"In a sense, yes; but I do not look at it with such longing eyes as Ruth +does."</p> + +<p>"She would like to live there again?" William questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"She would dance for joy at the most distant hope of it."</p> + +<p>"Then it is for your sister's sake you would like to turn farmer?" +William questioned, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"I have no wish to turn farmer at all," Ralph answered. "No, no, my +dreams and ambitions don't lie in that direction; but why talk about +impossibilities? You came across to discuss some other matter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is true," William said absently; and then a ripple of +laughter from the adjoining room touched his heart with a curious sense +of pain.</p> + +<p>"They are on friendly terms already," he said to himself. "And in a +little while he will make love to her, and what will Hillside Farm be to +her then? I would do anything for her sake—anything." And he sighed +unconsciously.</p> + +<p>Ralph heard the sigh, and looked at him searchingly.</p> + +<p>"I'm in an awful hole myself," William blurted out, after a long pause.</p> + +<p>"In an awful hole?" Ralph questioned, with raised eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"It's always the unexpected that happens, they say," William went on, +"but I confess I never expected to be flung on my beam-ends as I have +been. If it were not for mother, I'd sell up and clear out of the +country."</p> + +<p>"Why, what is the matter?" Ralph questioned in alarm.</p> + +<p>"You know the part I took in the County Council election?"</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I knew that Lord St. Goram didn't quite like it. He expects +every tenant and lease-holder to vote just as he wishes them. Poor +people are not supposed to have any rights or opinions, but I thought +the day had gone by when a man was to be punished for thinking for +himself."</p> + +<p>"But what has happened?" Ralph asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I'm to be turned out of my shop."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"It's the solemn truth. I had a seven years' lease, which expires next +March, and Lord St. Goram refuses to renew it."</p> + +<p>"For what reason?"</p> + +<p>"He gives no reason at all. But it is easy to guess. I opposed him at +the election, you know. I had a perfect right to do it, but rights go +for nothing. Now he is taking his revenge. I've not only to clear out in +March, but I've to restore the premises to the exact condition they were +in when I took them."</p> + +<p>"But you've improved the place in every way."</p> + +<p>"No doubt I have, but I did it at my own risk, and at my own expense. He +never gave his formal consent to my taking out the side of the house and +putting in that big window. His steward assured me it was all right, +though he hinted that in case I left his lordship might feel under no +obligation to grant compensation."</p> + +<p>"But why should he want you to restore the house to its original +condition?"</p> + +<p>"Just to be revenged, that's all. To show his power over me and to give +his tenants an object-lesson as to what will happen if they are unwise +enough to think for themselves."</p> + +<p>"It's tyranny," Ralph said indignantly. "It's a piece of mean, +contemptible tyranny."</p> + +<p>"You can call it by any name you like," William answered sadly, "and +there's no name too bad for it; but the point to be recollected is, I've +got to submit."</p> + +<p>"There's no redress for you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. I've consulted Doubleday, who's the best lawyer about here, +and he says it would be sheer madness to contest it."</p> + +<p>"Then what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"I've not the remotest idea. There's no other place in St. Goram I can +get. His lordship professes that he would far rather have twenty small +shops and twenty small shopkeepers all living from hand to mouth than +one prosperous tradesman selling the best and the freshest and at the +lowest possible price."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can sympathise with him in that," Ralph answered, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"And yet you are no more fond of buying stale things than other people."</p> + +<p>"That may be true. And yet the way the big concerns are crushing out the +small men is not a pleasant spectacle."</p> + +<p>"But no shopkeeper compels people to buy his goods," William said, with +a troubled expression in his eyes. "And when they come to his shop, is +he to say he won't supply them? And when his business shows signs of +expansion, is he to say it shall not expand?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I don't mean that at all. I like to see an honest business man +prospering. And a man who attends to his business and his customers +deserves to prosper. But I confess I don't like to see these huge +combines and trusts deliberately pushing out the smaller men—not by +fair competition, mind you, but by unfair—selling things below cost +price until their competitors are in the bankruptcy court, and then +reaping a big harvest."</p> + +<p>"I like that as little as you do," William said mildly. "Every honest, +industrious man ought to have a chance of life, but the chances appear +to be becoming fewer every day." And he sighed again.</p> + +<p>For several minutes neither of them spoke, then William said—</p> + +<p>"I thought I would like to tell you all about it at the earliest +opportunity. I knew I should have your sympathy."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could help you," Ralph answered. "You helped me when I hadn't +a friend in the world."</p> + +<p>"I have your sympathy," William answered, "and that's a great thing; for +the rest we must trust in God." And he rose to his feet and looked +towards the door.</p> + +<p>William and Sam did not say much on their way back to St. Goram. They +talked more freely when they got into the house.</p> + +<p>"It's awfully good of you to introduce me," Sam said, when Mrs. Menire +had retired to her room. "I'm more in love with her than ever."</p> + +<p>William's heart gave a painful thump, but he answered mildly enough—</p> + +<p>"You seemed to get on very well together."</p> + +<p>"She was delightfully friendly, but I owe that all to you. She said that +any friend of yours was welcome at their house."</p> + +<p>"It was very kind of her," William answered slowly. "Did she give you +permission to call again?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not exactly sure. She did say that any time you brought me along I +should be welcome, or words to that effect. So we must arrange another +little excursion soon."</p> + +<p>"Must we?"</p> + +<p>"We must; and what is more, you might, you know, in the meanwhile—that +is, if you can honestly do so—that is—you know what I mean, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I do," William answered, in a tone of mild surprise.</p> + +<p>"It's asking a lot, I know," Sam replied, fidgeting uneasily in his +chair. "But if you could—that—that is—without compromising yourself +in any way, speak a good word for me, it would go miles and miles."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it. She thinks the world of you, and a word from you would +be worth a week's pleading on my part."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that," William answered. "I think all love affairs +are best managed by those concerned. The meddling of outsiders generally +does more harm than good."</p> + +<p>"But there are exceptions to every rule," Sam persisted. "You see, I am +awfully handicapped by being so much of a stranger. If I can once get a +footing as a friend, the rest will be easy."</p> + +<p>William smiled wistfully.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be precipitate, if I were you," he said. "And in the +meanwhile I'll do my best."</p> + +<p>Sam slept soundly till morning, but William lay awake most of the night. +When he did sleep it was to dream that he was young and prosperous, and +that Ruth Penlogan had promised to be his wife.</p> + +<p>After an early breakfast, he saw his cousin mount his horse and ride +away toward Pentudy, and very soon after William climbed into his trap +and went out to get orders.</p> + +<p>One of his first places of call was Hillside Farm, and as he drove +slowly up to the house he looked at it with a new interest. All sorts of +vague fancies seemed to float about in his mind. He saw Ruth back there +again, looking happier than any queen; he saw himself with some kind of +proprietary interest in the place; he saw Ralph looking in when the +fancy pleased him; he saw a number of new combinations and +relationships, but so vaguely that he could not fit them into their +places.</p> + +<p>He found Farmer Jenkins in a very doleful mood.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had never seen the place," he declared. "I've lost money ever +since I came, and I'm going to clear out at the earliest opportunity."</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean it?" William questioned.</p> + +<p>"I was never more serious in my life. I sent a letter to the squire a +week ago, and told him unless he lowered the rent thirty per cent. I +should fling up the farm."</p> + +<p>"And has he consented to lower it?"</p> + +<p>"Not he. He says he'll call soon and talk the matter over with me, and +that in the meantime I'd better keep quiet; but I shan't keep quiet, and +I shan't stay."</p> + +<p>As William drove away from Hillside an idea, or a suggestion, shot +through his brain that made him gasp. Before he got to the village of +Veryan he was trembling on his seat. It seemed almost like a suggestion +from the Evil One, so subtle was the temptation. He had tried all his +life to do the thing that was right. He had never, as far as he knew, +taken an unfair advantage of anyone. He had aimed strictly to do what +was just and honourable between man and man. But if he bought Hillside +Farm, would it be fair dealing? Would it be fair to his Cousin Sam? +Would it be fair to Ruth?</p> + +<p>William tried to face the problem honestly. He would rather Ruth passed +out of his life altogether than do anything mean or unworthy. To keep +his conscience clean, and his love free from the taint of selfishness, +seemed to him the supreme end of life. But if he bought Hillside Farm, +what motive would lie at the back of it? Would it be that he wanted the +farm, that he wanted to turn farmer? or would it be the hope that Ruth, +with her passionate love of the place, would be willing even to accept +the protection of his arms?</p> + +<p>"All's fair in love and war," something seemed to whisper in his ear.</p> + +<p>But William drew himself up squarely, and a resolute look came into his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"No," he said to himself, "that is false philosophy. Nothing that is +mean or selfish or underhand can be fair or right. If the motive is +wrong, the transaction will be wrong."</p> + +<p>It took William a much longer time than usual to make his rounds that +morning. He was so absent-minded—or, more correctly, his mind was so +engrossed with other things—that he allowed his horse on several +occasions to nibble the grass by the roadside.</p> + +<p>He was no more interested in business matters when he got back. He would +pause in the middle of weighing a pound of sugar or starch, completely +forgetting where he was or what he was doing.</p> + +<p>His mother let him be. She knew that he was greatly troubled at Lord St. +Goram's refusal to renew the lease of his shop, and, like a wise woman, +did not worry him with needless questions.</p> + +<p>That evening, when the shutters were put up, he went to St. Ivel again. +He would have some further talk with Ralph about the farm. He would be +able also to feast his eyes again on Ruth's sweet face; perhaps, also, +if he had strength and courage enough, he might be able to speak a good +word for his Cousin Sam.</p> + +<p>His thoughts, however, were in such a tangle, and his motives so +uncertain, that he walked very slowly, and did not see a single thing on +the road. Before he reached the cottage he stopped short, and, taking an +order-book and a pencil from his pocket, he dotted down in a series of +propositions and questions the chief points of the problem. They ran in +this order:—</p> + +<p>1. I have as much right to love Ruth Penlogan as anyone else.</p> + +<p>2. Though I'm only a shopkeeper, and a dozen years her senior, there's +nothing to hinder me from taking my chance.</p> + +<p>3. If buying Hillside would help me, and make Ruth happy, where's the +wrong? Cannot say.</p> + +<p>4. But if buying Hillside would spoil Sam's chance, is that right? +Doubtful.</p> + +<p>5. Am I called upon to help Sam's cause to the detriment of my own? Also +doubtful.</p> + +<p>6. Is Ruth likely to be influenced by anything I may do or say? Don't +know enough about women to answer that question.</p> + +<p>7. Have I the smallest chance? No.</p> + +<p>8. Has Sam? Most decidedly.</p> + +<p>9. Am I a fool for thinking about Ruth at all? Certainly.</p> + +<p>At this point William thrust his order-book into his pocket and +quickened his pace.</p> + +<p>"It's not a bit of use speculating on possibilities or probabilities," +he said to himself a little impatiently. "I'll have to do the thing that +seems right and wise. The rest I must leave."</p> + +<p>A minute or two later he was knocking at the cottage door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>SELF AND ANOTHER</h3> + + +<p>Ralph had gone to Perranpool to see Robert Telfer, but Ruth expected him +back every moment.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in and wait for him?" Ruth questioned, looking beyond +him into the gathering twilight.</p> + +<p>William hesitated for a moment, and then decided that he would.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he will not be long," Ruth said, as she busied herself +getting the lamp ready. "Mr. Telfer wanted to settle with him, as—as he +can, of course, deliver no more concrete."</p> + +<p>"It's an awful shame," William said abruptly, and he dropped into +Ralph's easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"It seems very hard," Ruth said reflectively; "but I tell Ralph it may +be all for the best. Perhaps he was getting on too fast and too +suddenly."</p> + +<p>"He is not the sort to have his head turned by a bit of prosperity," +William said, watching his fair hostess out of the corner of his eye.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, the danger has been removed—if it was a danger." And Ruth +sighed gently.</p> + +<p>For several moments there was silence in the room. Ruth had the lamp to +light and the blind to pull down and a fresh cover to lay on the table. +William watched her with averted face and half-closed eyes. How womanly +she was in all her movements; how dainty in her appearance; how gentle +in her manner and speech!</p> + +<p>William felt as if he would almost risk his hope of heaven for the +chance of calling her his, and yet he had not the courage even to hint +at what he felt. Her very daintiness and winsomeness seemed to widen the +gulf between them. Who was he that he should dare make love to one who +was fit for the best in the land? It seemed to him—so unworthy did he +seem in his own eyes—utterly impossible that Ruth should ever care for +a man of his type.</p> + +<p>William was almost morbidly self-depreciatory when in the presence of +Ruth. His love so glorified her that by contrast he was commoner than +commonest clay.</p> + +<p>"I was so sorry to hear you are to be turned out of your shop," Ruth +said at length, taking a seat on the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>"Ralph told you?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"We stayed up till quite late last night, talking about it," she +replied. "Ralph is very indignant."</p> + +<p>"I am very indignant myself," he answered; "but what's the good? Those +who have the power use it as they like."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry it has happened," she said gently; "sorry for all our sakes. +Ralph's reverence for the ruling classes was not great before. It is +less now."</p> + +<p>"You cannot wonder at that," he said quickly.</p> + +<p>"No, one cannot wonder. And yet there is a danger in judging the whole +by a few. Besides, if we had real power, we might not use it any more +wisely or justly. The best of people, after all, are only human."</p> + +<p>"That being so," he answered, with a smile, "it does not seem right that +any individual, or any class of individuals, should have so much power. +Who made these people rulers and dividers over us?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, now you are getting beyond me," she said; "but since things are as +they are, should we not make the best of them?"</p> + +<p>"And try to mend them at the same time?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, by all means—that is, if we can."</p> + +<p>"But you have not much hope of mending things?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Not very much. Besides, if you levelled things up to-morrow, they would +be levelled down again the day after."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a rather fatalistic way of looking at things?" he +questioned, raising his eyes timidly to her face.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" she questioned, and a soft blush swept over her face as she +caught his glance. Then silence fell again for several moments.</p> + +<p>"The chances of life are very bewildering," he said at length, reopening +the conversation. "Some people seem to get all the luck, and others all +the misfortune. Look at my Cousin Sam."</p> + +<p>"Is he very unfortunate?"</p> + +<p>William laughed.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, he has all the luck. He has never known what poverty +means, or sickness, or hardship. He was born to affluence, and now, at +twenty-six, he's his own master, with a house of his own and plenty of +money."</p> + +<p>"But he may not be a whit happier than those who have less."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how he can help it," William answered. "He's never worried +about ways and means. He has troops of friends, absolutely wants nothing +except a wife to help him to spend his money."</p> + +<p>"Then you should advise him to keep single," Ruth said, with a laugh, +"for if he gets married, his troubles may begin."</p> + +<p>"There's risk in everything, no doubt," William said meditatively. +"Still, if I were in his place, I should take the risk."</p> + +<p>"You would?" Ruth questioned, arching her eyebrows, "and you a +bachelor?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is my misfortune," William answered, looking hard at a picture +on the wall. "But Sam's way is quite clear."</p> + +<p>"Is it?"</p> + +<p>"He's a good fellow, too, is Sam. Never a word of slander has been +breathed against his name since he was born. He'll make a good husband, +whoever gets him."</p> + +<p>"I did not know you had such a cousin till last evening," Ruth said +meaningly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, no. We've never seen very much of each other. You see, the +Tremails have always been rather big people, and then we have lived a +long way apart, and I have never cared to presume on my relationship."</p> + +<p>"So he has hunted you up?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. He came to see me just a fortnight ago or so, and he has +ridden over once or twice since. Don't you think he's a fine, handsome +fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is not bad-looking."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I call him handsome. It must be nice to be young and have so much +strength and energy."</p> + +<p>"Well, are you not young?"</p> + +<p>"I'm ten years older than Sam," he said, a little sadly, "and ten years +is a big slice out of one's life."</p> + +<p>"Are you growing pessimistic?" she questioned. "You are usually so +hopeful."</p> + +<p>"There are some things too good to hope for," he replied, "too +beautiful, too far away. I almost envy a man like my Cousin Sam. He has +everything within his reach."</p> + +<p>"You seem to be quite enthusiastic about your cousin," she said, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Am I? Oh, well, you know, he is my cousin, and a good fellow, and if I +can speak a good—I mean, if I can appreciate—that is, if I can +cultivate a right feeling toward him, and—and—all that, you know, +don't you think I ought to do so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no doubt," Ruth said, laughing. "It's generally well to be on good +terms with one's relations—at least so I've been told," and she went to +the door and looked out into the darkness.</p> + +<p>Ruth came back again after a few moments, and turned the lamp a little +higher.</p> + +<p>"Ralph is much longer than I expected he would be," she remarked, +without looking at William.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Mr. Telfer was out," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"I don't think that. You see he went by appointment. I expect it has +taken them longer to square their accounts than they thought."</p> + +<p>"I hope Ralph will come well out of it," he said musingly. "He's had a +rough time of it so far."</p> + +<p>"I am sometimes afraid he will grow bitter and give up. He has talked +again and again of trying his fortune abroad."</p> + +<p>"But if he went abroad, what would become of you?" William asked, with a +sudden touch of anxiety in his voice.</p> + +<p>"He would send for me when he got settled."</p> + +<p>William gave a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to go abroad?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"I would much prefer to stay here if I could; but you see we cannot +always have what we would like best."</p> + +<p>"No, that is true," he said slowly and meditatively. "The things we +would like best are often not for us. I don't know why it should be so. +Some people seem to get all they desire. There is my Cousin Sam, for +instance."</p> + +<p>"He is one of the lucky ones, you say?"</p> + +<p>"It seems so from my point of view. Did he tell you when he first saw +you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"He would not like to remind you. It was the day of the sale at +Hillside. He was greatly—that is, of course he could not help noticing +you. Since then he has seen you lots of times. A fortunate fellow is +Sam."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he does not think so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I fancy he does. I don't see how he can help it. He lives in a +beautiful old house. It's years since I saw it, but it remains in my +memory a pleasant picture. His wife will have a rare time of it."</p> + +<p>"How do you know he does not intend to follow your example and remain a +bachelor?"</p> + +<p>"How? Sam knows better than that. Do you think I would remain a bachelor +if—if—but there! You remember what you said just now about the things +we want most?"</p> + +<p>"I did not know——" Then a step sounded on the gravel outside. "Oh, +here comes Ralph." And Ruth sprang to her feet and rushed to the door.</p> + +<p>A moment later the two men were shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"I hope I have not kept you waiting long," Ralph said. "The truth is, +Telfer and I have been settling up."</p> + +<p>"So your sister told me."</p> + +<p>"And I'm bound to say he's treated me most handsomely. Technically, he +might have got the better of me on a dozen points; but no! he's been +most fair. It's a real pleasure to come across a man who doesn't want to +Jew you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bless you, there's lots of honest people in the world!" William +said, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose there are; the misfortune is one so often tumbles across +the other sort."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will have better luck in the future," William replied.</p> + +<p>"I only want fair play," Ralph answered; "I ask for nothing more than +that."</p> + +<p>"And have you hit upon anything for the future?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. But I don't want to be in a hurry. I've ready money enough to +last me a year or two. I really didn't think I had done so well, for I'm +a duffer at figures. If I only had about four times as much I'd buy +Hillside."</p> + +<p>"And turn farmer?"</p> + +<p>"No, farming is not my forte." And he turned and looked towards the door +of the pantry behind which Ruth was engaged getting supper ready.</p> + +<p>"Let's go into my room," he continued, in a half-whisper. "I've +something I want to say to you."</p> + +<p>William followed him without a word.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to awaken any vain hopes in Ruth's mind," Ralph went on. +"The thing is too remote to be talked about almost. But you have +wondered why I should want Hillside Farm when I've no love for farming?"</p> + +<p>"I have supposed it was for your sister's sake."</p> + +<p>"No, it's not that exactly. It's my love of adventure, or you might call +it my love of speculation."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand."</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't. So I'll explain. You are the best friend I ever +had, and I can trust you. Besides, if I ever did anything I should want +your help. You are a business man, I'm a dreamer. You are good at +accounts, I'm a fool at them."</p> + +<p>William's eyes opened wider and wider, but he did not interrupt.</p> + +<p>"Now, there's just the possibility of a fortune in Hillside," Ralph went +on. "Not on the surface, mind you. The crops raised there will never be +a fortune for anybody; but my father believed there was a rich tin lode +running through it."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he test it?"</p> + +<p>"He had no opportunity."</p> + +<p>"Why not? The farm was his as long as the 'lives' remained alive."</p> + +<p>"But all the mineral rights were reserved by the ground landlord. So +that if my father had discovered a gold mine he would have got nothing +out of it."</p> + +<p>"So he kept silent?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally; for if a mine was started, not only would he get no good out +of it, but his farm would be ruined."</p> + +<p>William remained silent and thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Now, if I could get the freehold," Ralph went on, "I should be free +from every interference. I could sink a shaft for a few fathoms and test +the thing. If it proved to be worthless, very little harm would be done. +I should still have the farm to work or to let. Do you see my point?"</p> + +<p>"I do, but——"</p> + +<p>"I know what you would say. I have not the money," Ralph interrupted. +"That is quite true. But I've more than I thought I had. And if the +Brick, Tile, and Clay Company will take my plant at a fair valuation, I +shall have more. Now I want to ask you, as a business man, if you think +I could get a mortgage for the rest?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly you might," William said slowly, "but there are a good many +objections to such a course."</p> + +<p>"Well, what are they?"</p> + +<p>"We'll take one thing at a time," William answered meditatively. "To +begin with: I don't believe Sir John Hamblyn would sell the place to you +under any circumstances if he knew."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because he has wronged you, and so he hates you. Nothing would please +him better than for you to leave the country."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"If you begin to look round for a mortgage, or for securities——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see."</p> + +<p>"If you are to get the place, your name must not be given at the outset; +you must buy through an agent or solicitor. You must be ready with the +money on the nail."</p> + +<p>Ralph looked thoughtful for several moments.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's of no use hoping," he said at length; "though when +Robert Telfer handed me over his cheque this evening the world did look +bright for a moment."</p> + +<p>"But if you bought the farm you might lose everything," William +suggested; "and it would be a pity to throw away your first earnings."</p> + +<p>"Why so? There's no good in hoarding money. I want to be doing +something. Besides, I might find work for half the parish."</p> + +<p>"Then you have faith in the tin lode of which your father spoke?"</p> + +<p>"I am confident there is a lode there. My father was not likely to be +mistaken in a matter of that kind. As a practical miner and mineralogist +there was not his equal in the county."</p> + +<p>"But he did not test the lode?"</p> + +<p>"He had no chance."</p> + +<p>"Hence, it may be worthless."</p> + +<p>"I admit it. Mind you, my father was confident that it was rich in tin. +Of course, he may have been mistaken."</p> + +<p>"But you are prepared to risk your all on it?"</p> + +<p>"I am. I wish I had ten times as much to risk."</p> + +<p>The next moment Ruth appeared, with the announcement that supper was +ready.</p> + +<p>"Let me sleep over it," William whispered to Ralph; "and to-morrow +morning you come up to my shop and we'll see what we can make of it."</p> + +<p>And he turned and followed Ruth into the next room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>A PARTNERSHIP</h3> + + +<p>It was late when William left Ralph Penlogan's cottage, but he was in no +hurry to get to St. Goram. He sauntered slowly along the dark and +deserted lane with his hands in his pockets and his eyes nowhere in +particular. He tried to comfort himself with the reflection that he had +not been selfish—that he had done his best for his Cousin Sam, that he +had spoken the good word that he promised.</p> + +<p>But for some reason the reward of virtue was not so great as he had +hoped. There was no feeling of exultation in his heart at his triumph +over temptation; in truth, he was much more inclined to call himself a +fool for lending aid to his cousin at all.</p> + +<p>This reflection reacted on his spirits in another way. He was more +selfish than he could have believed. He was like the man who gave half a +crown at a collection, and regretted it all his life afterwards. He had +forced himself to speak a good word for his cousin, but there was no +virtue in it. Service rendered so grudgingly was deserving of no reward.</p> + +<p>"I am like the dog in the manger," he said to himself, a little +disconsolately; "I cannot have her myself, and I don't want anybody else +to have her."</p> + +<p>Then he fell to thinking of Ruth's many attractions. He had never seen +anyone before with such a wealth of hair, and he was sure there was no +one in the three parishes who arranged her hair so gloriously as Ruth +did. And then her figure was just perfection in his eyes. She was +neither too short nor too tall, too stout nor too thin. There was not a +single line or curve that he would have altered.</p> + +<p>And her character was as perfect as her form and as beautiful as her +face. William's love shed over her and around her a golden haze which +hid every fault and magnified every virtue.</p> + +<p>By morning he was able to see things a little more in their true +perspective, and when Ralph called he was able to put love aside and +talk business, though he was by no means sure that in business matters +Ruth did not influence him unconsciously.</p> + +<p>Ralph had great faith in William's judgment and sagacity. He always +looked at both sides of a question before deciding. If he erred at all, +it was on the side of excessive caution.</p> + +<p>Ralph could not help wondering what was in William's mind. He had said +practically nothing the previous evening. He had asked a few questions, +and pointed out certain difficulties, but he had committed himself to +nothing, yet it seemed clear that he had some scheme in his mind which +he would reveal when he had duly considered it.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes they talked generalities, then William plunged into +the subject that was uppermost in the thoughts of both.</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder that you want to get hold of the freehold of Hillside," +he said. "I should if I were in your place. Apart from sentiment, the +business side appeals strongly. The discovery of a good tin lode there +would be the making of St. Goram——"</p> + +<p>"And the ruin of the farm," Ralph interjected.</p> + +<p>"Well, the erection of a big engine-house on the top of the hill and +fire stamps in Dingley Bottom would certainly not improve the appearance +of things from an artistic point of view."</p> + +<p>"'There is no gain except by loss,'" Ralph quoted, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"True; but we all ought to consider the greatest good of the greatest +number."</p> + +<p>Ralph laughed.</p> + +<p>"Don't credit me with virtues I don't possess," he said. "I confess I'm +thinking in the first instance only of myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose that's only natural," William said seriously. "But now +to business. If you purchase the farm at the squire's price, how much +money will you require beyond what you have?"</p> + +<p>Ralph named the sum.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I told you last night the concrete had turned out well."</p> + +<p>"It can be done easily," William said, with a sudden brightening of his +face.</p> + +<p>"How?"—with an eager look.</p> + +<p>"I will advance you all the money you want, either as a loan or on +mortgage."</p> + +<p>"You really mean it?"</p> + +<p>"I do. But on one condition—and that is that you do not say anything to +your sister about it."</p> + +<p>"But why not? I have no secrets from Ruth."</p> + +<p>William coloured and looked uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"It's merely a whim of mine," he said. "Women don't understand business, +and she might think I was doing you a great favour, and I don't want her +to think anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"But you are doing me an immense favour!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not, really. The margin of security will be, if not ample, at least +sufficient; and if the lode should prove of value, why, you will be able +to pay off the loan in no time."</p> + +<p>"If the lode should prove of any value, William, you shall go shares!" +Ralph said impulsively.</p> + +<p>"No, no! If I take no risk, I take no reward. You will risk everything +in testing the thing."</p> + +<p>"I'm fond of risks," Ralph said, with a laugh. "A little adventure is +the very spice of life. Oh, I do hope the farm is not already sold!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it can be," William answered. "We have wasted no time +yet. If it is sold, you will have to wait, and hope the buyer will get +tired of his bargain."</p> + +<p>Ralph shook his head.</p> + +<p>"If I can't get it now," he said, "I shall try my fortune beyond the +seas."</p> + +<p>"Well, we needn't wait an hour longer. You can have my trap to drive to +St. Hilary. Let some lawyer whom you can trust act for you."</p> + +<p>"Won't you go with me?" Ralph questioned eagerly. "You see, the question +of security will come up first thing."</p> + +<p>"It would be almost better if you could keep out of sight altogether."</p> + +<p>"I know it. Couldn't you see the whole thing through for me?"</p> + +<p>"I might try."</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Ralph had sent word to Ruth that he would not be home +till evening, and was driving away with William Menire in the direction +of St. Hilary.</p> + +<p>They were both too excited to talk much. Ralph felt as though the whole +universe were trembling in the balance. If he failed, there would be +nothing left worth considering. If he succeeded, paradise threw open her +gates to him.</p> + +<p>Far away beyond the hills there was a great city called London, and in +that city dwelt one who was more to him than all the world beside. She +was out of his reach because he was poor and nameless and obscure. But +if he won for himself a position, what was to hinder him from wooing +her, and perhaps winning her? Money for its own sake he cared nothing +for. The passion for position had never been a factor in his life. He +loved beautiful things—art and music and literature—partly from +instinct, and partly because he had been educated to appreciate them, +but there was not an ounce of snobbery in his composition. He had no +reverence for rank as such, or for mere social position, but he had +sense enough to recognise their existence, and the part they played in +the evolution of the race. He could not get rid of things by shutting +his eyes to their existence.</p> + +<p>So they drove along the quiet road mainly in silence. Each was busy with +his own thoughts. Each had a secret that he dared not reveal to the +other.</p> + +<p>"I believe you will win," William said abruptly after a long interval of +silence. "I always said you would."</p> + +<p>"Win?" Ralph questioned absently, for he was thinking of Dorothy Hamblyn +at the time.</p> + +<p>"Your father was a shrewd man where mineral was concerned."</p> + +<p>"Yes. And yet he loved corn and cows far more than copper and tin."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't mind being in your place."</p> + +<p>"You would not be afraid of the risk?"</p> + +<p>"No. I would like it."</p> + +<p>"Then let's go shares!" Ralph said eagerly. "It's what I've wanted all +along, but did not like to propose it."</p> + +<p>"You really mean it?"</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, it is what I would desire above everything else! You +have business capacity, and I haven't a scrap."</p> + +<p>"If I were sure I could help you."</p> + +<p>"We should help each other; but the gain would be chiefly mine."</p> + +<p>"Partnerships don't always turn out well," William said reflectively.</p> + +<p>"I'll gladly risk it," Ralph answered, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>William dropped his driving whip into the socket and reached across his +hand. It was his way of sealing the contract.</p> + +<p>Ralph seized it in a moment.</p> + +<p>"This is the proudest day of my life!" William said. And there were +distinct traces of emotion in his voice.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will not be sorry later on," Ralph answered dubiously.</p> + +<p>"Never!" was the firm reply. And he thought of Ruth, and wondered what +the future had in store for him.</p> + +<p>For the rest of the way they drove in silence. There were things in the +lives of both too sacred to be talked about.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>FOOD FOR REFLECTION</h3> + + +<p>There was widespread interest of a mild kind when it became known in St. +Goram that Sir John Hamblyn had disposed of the freehold of Hillside +Farm. It was an action altogether unprecedented in the history of the +Hamblyn family. What it portended no one knew, but it seemed to +crystallise into a concrete fact all the rumours that had been in +circulation for the last two or three years.</p> + +<p>The first news reached Farmer Jenkins in a letter from Sir John. It was +brief and to the point:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have this day sold the freehold of Hillside Farm. Your new +landlord will no doubt communicate with you shortly.—Yours +truly,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">John Hamblyn</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Farmer Jenkins stared at the letter for a considerable time after he had +mastered its contents.</p> + +<p>"So-ho!" he said to himself at length. "Now I understand why he wanted +the matter of reduction of rent to stand over. 'Cute dog is Sir John. If +he's sold the place on the basis of present rental he's swindled +somebody. I wonder who the fool is who bought it. Anyhow, I won't stay +here after Lady Day." And he pushed the letter into his pocket, pulled a +weather-beaten wideawake hat over his bald pate, and started out in the +direction of St. Goram.</p> + +<p>William Menire was standing behind his desk when Jenkins stumbled into +his shop. He laid down his pen at once, and prepared himself to execute +the farmer's order.</p> + +<p>It was not a large order by any means—something that had been forgotten +on the previous day—and when the farmer had stuffed it into one of his +big pockets he looked up suddenly and said—</p> + +<p>"You ain't heard no news, I expect?"</p> + +<p>"What sort of news?" William questioned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, any sort."</p> + +<p>"Well, no. There doesn't seem to be much stirring at the present time."</p> + +<p>"More stirring than you think, perhaps," Jenkins said mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"That's possible, of course. Have you been hearing something?"</p> + +<p>"Squire's cleared out, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"I hear he has practically closed the Manor for an indefinite period."</p> + +<p>"Purty hard up, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Took to sellin' his estate."</p> + +<p>"No!" William said, with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"It's solemn truth. I got a letter from him just now sayin' he'd sold +Hillside Farm."</p> + +<p>"Sold it?"</p> + +<p>"Them's his very words. Here's the letter, if you like to read it."</p> + +<p>William took the letter and retired to the window. He did not want the +farmer to see his agitation. He had been waiting day after day for +nearly a month for some definite news, and here it was in black and +white. He wondered what Ralph would say when he heard. Once more his +hopes had been blown to the wind. His dream of success, not for the +first time or the second, had been dashed to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Seems definite enough, don't it?" questioned the farmer, coming nearer.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, there can be no mistake about it," William answered, trying his +best to keep his voice steady.</p> + +<p>"Well, it don't make no difference to me," the farmer said +indifferently. "I've made up my mind to clear out at Lady Day. There +ain't no luck about the place. I keep feelin' as though there was a kind +of blight upon it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?"</p> + +<p>"The way the squire shoved it on to me wasn't square to David Penlogan. +I can see it clear enough now, and I've never felt quite comfortable +since David died. I keep feelin' at times as though he was about the +place still."</p> + +<p>"Who—David?"</p> + +<p>"Ay. He was terrible fond of the place by all accounts. It was a pity +Sir John didn't let him stay on. He might have been livin' to this day +if he had."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is quite true; but we must not forget that David is better +off. He was a good man, if ever there was one."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, the place don't prosper under me, somehow. And if the new +landlord is willin' to lower the rent I shan't stay on. I've got my eye +on something I think'll suit me better." And, turning slowly round, the +farmer walked out of the shop.</p> + +<p>William stood staring at the door long after the farmer had disappeared. +He had seen the possibility of the farm falling into other hands from +the first, but had never fully realised till now how much that might +mean to him. His own future was involved just as much as Ralph's. While +there was a prospect of getting the farm he had not troubled about his +own notice to quit. Now the whole problem would have to be thought out +again. Nor was that all—nor even the most important part. He had seen, +in fancy, Ruth installed in the old home that she loved so much; seen +how Hillside had called to her more loudly and potently than all the +pleadings of Sam Tremail; seen the gulf that now lay between them +gradually close up and disappear; seen her advance to meet him till +their hands had clasped in a bond that only death could break.</p> + +<p>It was a foolish fancy, perhaps, but he had not been able to help it +taking possession of him from time to time, and with the passing of the +days and weeks the fancy had become more and more vivid and real.</p> + +<p>"It is all over now," William said to himself, as he stood staring at +the door. "Ralph will go abroad and leave her alone at home. Then will +come the choice of going away to a strange country or going to Pentudy, +and Sam, of course, will win," and William sighed, and dropped into a +chair behind his desk.</p> + +<p>A minute or two later the door swung open again, and Ralph Penlogan +stalked into the shop.</p> + +<p>William rose at once to his feet, and moved down inside the counter.</p> + +<p>"Well, William, any news yet?" Ralph questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>William dropped his eyes slowly to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ralph," he said, in a half-whisper. "We've missed it."</p> + +<p>"Missed it?"</p> + +<p>"Ay! I've been a bit afraid of it all along. You remember their lawyer +told Mr. Jewell that there were several people after it."</p> + +<p>"Where's Jewell's letter?" Ralph questioned, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"I've not heard from Jewell."</p> + +<p>"Then how did you get to know?"</p> + +<p>"Jenkins told me. He got a letter from Sir John this morning saying he +had sold it."</p> + +<p>"To whom?"</p> + +<p>"He mentioned no name—possibly he didn't know. It went to the man, I +expect, who was willing to pay most for it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Sir John got to know we were after it."</p> + +<p>"Possibly, though I don't think Jewell would tell him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, it doesn't matter, I suppose," Ralph said, in a hard voice. +"It's all in the day's work."</p> + +<p>"I feel a good deal more upset about it than I thought I should," +William said, after a long pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Ralph questioned.</p> + +<p>"I fancy the spirit of adventure had got a bit into my blood," William +answered, with a gentle smile. "I felt ready to speculate all I had. I +was itching, as one may say, to be at the lode."</p> + +<p>"Such an adventurous spirit needed checking," Ralph said, with a laugh +that had more bitterness in it than mirth.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. Now we shall have to face the whole problem over again."</p> + +<p>"I shall try my fortune abroad. I made up my mind weeks ago that if this +failed I should leave the country."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. But it comes hard all the same. There ought to be as much +room for enterprise in this country as in any other."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there is, but we are in the wrong corner of it."</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't that. It is simply that we have to deal with the wrong +people. I grow quite angry when I think how all enterprise is checked by +the hidebound fossils who happen to be in authority, and the stupid laws +they have enacted."</p> + +<p>Ralph laughed.</p> + +<p>"My dear William, you will be talking treason next," he said, and then a +customer came in and put an end to further conversation.</p> + +<p>Ralph went back home, and without saying anything to his sister, began +quietly to sort out his things.</p> + +<p>"I may as well get ready first as last," he said to himself; "and the +sooner I take my departure the better."</p> + +<p>He was very silent when he came down to dinner, and his eyes had an +absent look in them.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing all the morning?" Ruth asked at length.</p> + +<p>"Sorting out my things, Ruth; that's all."</p> + +<p>She started, and an anxious look came into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"But why have you been sorting them out to-day?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Because to-morrow will be Sunday," he said, with a smile, "and you are +strongly opposed to Sunday labour."</p> + +<p>"But still, I don't understand?" she interrogated uneasily.</p> + +<p>"I would like to get off on Tuesday morning if possible."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean——" she began.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to clear out sooner or later, Ruth," he interrupted, "and +the sooner the better."</p> + +<p>"Then you have decided to go abroad, Ralph?" And her face became very +pale.</p> + +<p>"What else can I do?" he asked. "I really have not the courage to settle +down at St. Ivel Mine at fourteen shillings a week, even if I were sure +of getting work, which I am not."</p> + +<p>"And I don't want you to do it," she said suddenly, with a rush of tears +to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"In a bigger country, with fewer restrictions and barbed wire fences, I +may be able to do something," he went on. "At worst, I can but fail."</p> + +<p>"I hoped that something would turn up here," she said, after a long +pause.</p> + +<p>"So did I, Ruth; and, indeed, until this morning things looked +promising."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Like so many other hopes, Ruth, it has gone out in darkness."</p> + +<p>"You have said nothing to me about it," she said at length.</p> + +<p>"No. I did not wish to buoy you up with hopes that might end in +nothing."</p> + +<p>"What was it you had in your mind, Ralph?" And she raised her soft, +beseeching eyes to his.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," he said uneasily, "no harm can come of telling you now, +though I did promise William that I would say nothing to you about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" she said, in hurt tones. "What has he to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as a matter of fact, he had nearly everything to do with it."</p> + +<p>"And he had so little confidence in me that I was not to be trusted?"</p> + +<p>"No, sis. William Menire is not that kind of man, as you ought to know +by this time."</p> + +<p>"Then why was I not to be told? Does he take me for a child?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he does. You see, he is years older than either of us; but his +main concern was that you should not feel in any way under an obligation +to him."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"William feels very sensitive where you are concerned. The truth is, he +was going to advance most of the money for the purchase of Hillside."</p> + +<p>"Ralph!"</p> + +<p>"It is true, dear; and until this morning we hoped we should get it."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"It has been sold to somebody else."</p> + +<p>For a long time no other word was spoken. Ruth made a pretence of +eating, but she had no longer any appetite for her dinner. Ralph had +given her food of another kind—food for reflection. A dozen questions +that had been the vaguest suggestions before suddenly crystallised +themselves into definite form.</p> + +<p>When the dinner was over, Ralph put on his hat and made for the door.</p> + +<p>"I am going down to Perranpool," he said. "I have one or two things I +want to talk over with Robert Telfer before I go."</p> + +<p>"Don't forget to remember me to Mary," Ruth said, following him to the +door.</p> + +<p>"Anything else?" he questioned, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Tell her to come up and see me as soon as ever she is able."</p> + +<p>"All right," and, waving his hand, he marched rapidly away.</p> + +<p>Ruth sighed as she followed him with her eyes. It seemed to her a +thousand pities that his native land had no place for such as he. He was +not of the common order. He had gifts, education, imagination, +enterprise, and yet he was foiled at every point.</p> + +<p>Then for some reason her thoughts travelled away to William Menire, and +the memory of her brother's words, "William is very sensitive where you +are concerned," brought a warm rush of colour to her cheeks.</p> + +<p>Why should William be so sensitive where she was concerned? Why should +he be so shy and diffident when in her presence? Why was he ever so +ready to sing the praises of his cousin?</p> + +<p>She was brought back to herself at length by the sound of horse's hoofs, +and a minute or two later Sam Tremail drew up and alighted at the garden +gate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>A PROPOSAL</h3> + + +<p>Sam did not wait for an invitation. Flinging the reins over the gate +post, he marched boldly up the garden path, and greeted Ruth at the +door. She received him courteously, as was her nature, but a more +sensitive man might have felt that there was not much warmth in her +welcome.</p> + +<p>"I was riding this way, and so I thought I would call," he explained. "I +hope I don't intrude?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, not at all. Will you come inside?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I shall be pleased to rest a few minutes, and so will Nero. +Is your brother at home?"</p> + +<p>"No, he has just gone down to Perranpool."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Telfer has nearly finished his contract, I hear."</p> + +<p>"So I am told."</p> + +<p>"And the company have a mountain of concrete on their hands."</p> + +<p>"Ralph says they are charging so enormously for it. Besides, they have +not sought out new markets."</p> + +<p>"Markets would open if the stuff was not so poor. They managed to hustle +your brother out of his rights without getting his secret."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?"</p> + +<p>"So I am told. I know nothing about the matter myself. I can only repeat +what people are saying. By the by, I suppose you have heard that your +old home has been sold?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"St. Goram seems to be quite excited about it. The people in my cousin's +shop can talk of nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Then you have called on your cousin?"</p> + +<p>"Just to say 'How d'ye do?' But Saturday afternoon appears to be a busy +day with him. Seems a shame that he has to turn out, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It is a shame."</p> + +<p>"Of course, in a measure, it's his own fault. He ought not to have +opposed Lord St. Goram. A man in business ought not to have any +politics, and should keep out of public affairs."</p> + +<p>"But suppose he agreed with Lord St. Goram?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that would make a difference, of course. A man ought to know on +which side his bread is buttered."</p> + +<p>"And principle and conviction should not count?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say that. A man can have any convictions he likes, so long as +he keeps them to himself; but in politics it is safest to side with the +powers that be."</p> + +<p>"You think so?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it. Take the case of my Uncle Ned."</p> + +<p>"I never heard of him," Ruth said innocently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, his late landlord was a Liberal, and, of course, my uncle was +a Liberal. Then his landlord became a Unionist, and Uncle Ned became a +Unionist also. Well, then his landlord died and his son took possession. +He's a Conservative and true blue, and, of course, Uncle Ned is a Tory +of the Tories. What is the result? He gets no end of privileges. +Moreover, there is no fear of his being turned out of his farm."</p> + +<p>"And you admire your Uncle Ned?"</p> + +<p>"I think he might be a little less ostentatious. But he knows on which +side his bread is buttered. Now my Cousin William goes dead against his +own landlord; there's all the difference. Result, Ned remains and +prospers; William has notice to quit."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather be William than your Uncle Ned."</p> + +<p>"You would?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand times. A man who places bread and butter before conscience +and conviction is a coward, and a man who changes his political creed to +please his landlord is too contemptible for words."</p> + +<p>Sam turned uneasily in his chair and stared. He had never imagined that +this sweet-faced girl could speak so strongly. Moreover, he began to +fear that he had unconsciously put his foot into it. He had called for +the purpose of making love to Ruth, and had come perilously near to +making her angry.</p> + +<p>How to get back to safer ground was a work of no small difficulty. He +could not unsay what he had said, and to attempt to trim would only +provoke her scorn. Neither could he suddenly change the subject without +considerable loss of dignity. So, after an awkward pause, he said—</p> + +<p>"Everyone has a right to his or her own opinions, of course. For myself, +I should not be prepared to express myself so strongly."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you do not feel strongly," she said.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I do," he replied, in a tone of relief; "that is, on +public questions. I am no politician, and, besides, there is always a +good deal to be said on both sides of every question. I try as far as +possible, you know, to keep an open mind," and he smiled benevolently, +and felt well pleased with himself.</p> + +<p>After that conversation flagged. Ruth appeared to be absent-minded, and +in no mood for further talk. Nero outside champed at his bit, and was +eager to be on the move again. Sam turned his hat round and round in his +hands, and puzzled his brain as to how he should get near the subject +that was uppermost in his mind.</p> + +<p>He started a number of topics—the weather, the chances of a fine day +for Summercourt Fair, the outbreak of measles at Doubleday, the price of +tin, the new travelling preacher, the Sunday-school anniversary at +Trebilskey, the large catch of pilchards at Mevagissey—but they all +came to a sudden and ignominious conclusion.</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet at length almost in despair, and looked towards the +door. For some reason the task he had set himself was far more difficult +than he had imagined. In his ride from Pentudy he had rehearsed his +speech to the listening hedgerows with great diligence, and with +considerable animation. He had rounded his periods till they seemed +almost perfect. He had decided on the measure of emphasis to be laid on +certain passages. But now, when he stood face to face with the girl he +coveted, the speech eluded him almost entirely, while such passages as +he could remember did not seem at all fitting to the occasion. The time +clearly was not propitious. He would have to postpone his declaration to +a more convenient season.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I must be going," he said desperately.</p> + +<p>"Your horse seems to be getting impatient," Ruth replied, looking out of +the window.</p> + +<p>"It's not the horse I care for," he blurted out; "it's you."</p> + +<p>"Me?" she questioned innocently.</p> + +<p>"Do you think anything else matters when you are about?" he asked in a +tone almost of defiance.</p> + +<p>"I fear I do not understand," she said, with a bewildered expression in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must understand," he replied vehemently. "You must have seen +that I love you."</p> + +<p>"No, no!"</p> + +<p>"Don't interrupt me, please, now that I've started. Give me a +chance—oh, do give me a chance. I've loved you ever since your father's +sale. I'm sure it's love I feel for you. Whenever people talk about my +getting married, my thoughts always turn to you in a moment. I waited +and waited for a chance of speaking to you, and thought it would never +come; and now that I've got to know you a bit——"</p> + +<p>"But you don't know me," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. Besides, William has told me how good you are; and then I'm +willing to wait until I know you better, and you know me better. I don't +ask you to say Yes to-day, and please don't say No. I'm sure I could +make you happy. You should have a horse of your own to ride if you +wanted one, and I would be as good to you as ever I could, and I don't +think I'm a bad sort. Ask my Cousin William, and he'll tell you that I'm +a steady-going fellow. I know I'm not clever, nor anything of that sort; +but I would look after you really well—I would, indeed. And think of +it. You may need a friend some day. You may be left alone, as it were; +your brother may get married. There's never any knowing what may happen. +But if you would let me look after you and care for you, you wouldn't +have a worry in the world. Think of it——"</p> + +<p>She put up her hand deprecatingly, for when his tongue was once unloosed +his words flowed without a break. He looked very manly and handsome, +too, as he stood before her, and there was evident sincerity in his +tones.</p> + +<p>He broke off suddenly, and stood waiting. He felt that he had done the +thing very clumsily, but that was perhaps inevitable under the +circumstances.</p> + +<p>Ruth looked up and met his eyes. She was no flirt; she was deeply moved +by his confession. Moreover, when he spoke of her being alone some day +and needing protection, he touched a sympathetic chord in her heart. She +was to be left alone sooner than he knew. Already preparations had begun +for her brother's departure.</p> + +<p>"Please do not say any more," she said gently. "I do not doubt your +sincerity for a moment."</p> + +<p>"But you are not offended with me?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"No, I am not offended with you. Indeed, I feel greatly honoured by your +proposal."</p> + +<p>"Then you will think it over?" he interrupted. "Say you will think it +over. Don't send me away without hope."</p> + +<p>She smiled a sweet, pathetic smile, and answered—</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will think it over."</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much," he said, with beaming face. "That is the most I +could hope for to-day," and he held out his hand to her, which she took +shyly and diffidently.</p> + +<p>"If you can only bring yourself to say Yes," he said, as he stood in the +doorway, "I will do my best to make you the happiest woman in the +world."</p> + +<p>She did not reply, however. From behind the window curtains she watched +him mount his horse and ride away; then she dropped into an easy-chair +and stared into space.</p> + +<p>It is sometimes said that a woman rarely gets the man she wants—that +he, unknowing and unseeing, goes somewhere else, and she makes no sign. +Later on she accepts the second best, or it may be the third best, and +tries to be content.</p> + +<p>Ruth wondered if contentment was ever to be found along that path, if +the heart grew reconciled to the absence of romance, if the passion of +youth was but the red glare of sunrise which quickly faded into the +sober light of day.</p> + +<p>Sam Tremail was not a man to be despised. He was no wastrel, no unknown +adventurer. He was a man of character and substance. He had been a good +son; he would doubtless make a good husband. Could she be content?</p> + +<p>No halo of romance gathered about his name. No beautiful and tender +passion shook her heart when she thought of him. Life at Pentudy would +be sober and grey and commonplace. There would be no passion flowers, no +crimson and scarlet and gold. On the other hand, there would be no want, +no mean and niggling economies, no battle for daily bread. Was solid +comfort more lasting, and therefore more desirable, than the richly-hued +vesture of romance?</p> + +<p>How about the people she knew—the people who had reached middle +life—the people who were beginning to descend the western slope? Had +there been any romance in their life? Had they thrilled at the beginning +at the touch of a hand? Had their hearts leaped at the sound of a voice? +And if so, why was there no sign of it to-day? Did familiarity always +breed contempt? Did possession kill romance? Did the crimson of the +morning always fade into the grey of noon?</p> + +<p>Would it be better to marry without dreams and illusions, to begin with +the sober grey, the prose and commonplace, than begin with some +richly-hued dreams that would fade and disappear before the honeymoon +came to an end? To be disillusioned was always painful. And yet, would +not one swift month of rich romance, of deep-eyed, passionate love, be +worth a lifetime of grey and sober prose?</p> + +<p>Ruth was still thinking when Ralph returned from Perranpool.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Sam was trotting homeward in a very jubilant frame of mind. He +pulled up in front of William Menire's shop and beckoned to his cousin.</p> + +<p>"I want you to congratulate me, old man," he said, when William stood at +his horse's head.</p> + +<p>William's face fell in a moment, and his lips trembled in spite of +himself.</p> + +<p>"Have you—you—been to—to——?" William began.</p> + +<p>"I've just come from there," Sam interrupted, with a laugh. "Been there +for the last hour, and now I'm off home feeling that I have done a good +day's work."</p> + +<p>"You have proposed to her?"</p> + +<p>"I have! It required a good bit of courage, but I've done it."</p> + +<p>"And she has accepted?"</p> + +<p>"She has not rejected me, at any rate. I didn't ask for a definite +answer right off. But it is all right, my boy, I'm sure it is. Now, give +us your hand. You've been a good friend to me. But for you I might never +have got to know her."</p> + +<p>William reached up his hand slowly and silently.</p> + +<p>"It's often been a wonder to me," Sam said, squeezing his kinsman's +hand, "that you never looked in that direction yourself; but I'm glad +you never did."</p> + +<p>"It would have been no use," William said sadly. "I'm not the kind of +man to take any girl's fancy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all nonsense," Sam said gaily. "I admit that a great many +girls like a fellow with a lot of dash and go, and are not particular +about his past so long as he has a winning tongue and a smart exterior. +But all girls are not built that way. Why, I can fancy you being a +perfect hero in some people's eyes."</p> + +<p>"You must have a vivid imagination," William said, with a smile; and +then Sam put spurs to his horse and galloped away.</p> + +<p>William went back to his work behind his counter with a pathetic and +far-away look in his eyes. He was glad when the little group of +customers were served, and he was left alone for a few minutes.</p> + +<p>He had intended going to see the Penlogans that evening, but he decided +now that he would not go. While Ruth was free he had a right to look at +her and admire her, but he was not sure that that right was his any +longer.</p> + +<p>He wondered if Sam noticed that he did not congratulate him. He could +not get out the words somehow.</p> + +<p>He sat down at length with his elbow on the counter, and rested his head +on his hand. He began to realise that he had built more on the +acquisition of Hillside Farm than he knew. He had hoped in some vague +way that the farm would be a bond between him and Ruth. Well, well, it +was at an end now; the one romance of his life had vanished. His +unspoken love would remain unspoken.</p> + +<p>The next day being Sunday, all the characters in this story had time for +meditation. Ruth and Ralph walked to Veryan that they might worship once +more in the little chapel made sacred to them by the memory of father +and mother. Ruth had great difficulty in keeping back the tears. How +often she had sat in that bare and comfortless pew holding her father's +hand. How she missed him again. How acute and poignant was her sense of +loss.</p> + +<p>She never once looked at her brother. He sat erect and motionless by her +side, but she doubted if he heard the sermon. The thought of the coming +separation lay heavy upon him as it did upon her.</p> + +<p>On their way back Ruth plucked up her courage and told Ralph of Sam +Tremail's proposal the previous afternoon.</p> + +<p>Ralph stopped short for a moment, and looked at her.</p> + +<p>"Now I understand why you have been so absent-minded," he said at +length. "I was afraid you were fretting because I was going away."</p> + +<p>"If I fretted, I should try and not let you see," she answered. "You +have enough to bear already."</p> + +<p>"The thought of leaving you unprotected is the hardest part," he said.</p> + +<p>"Would it be a relief to you if I accepted Sam Tremail's offer?" she +questioned.</p> + +<p>"Supposing you cared for him enough, it would be," he replied. "Sam is a +good fellow by all accounts. Socially, he is much above us."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing against him," she answered slowly, "nothing! And I am +quite sure he meant all he said."</p> + +<p>"And do you care for him?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head slowly and smiled—</p> + +<p>"I neither like him nor dislike him. But he offers me protection and a +good home."</p> + +<p>"To be free from worry is a great thing," he answered, looking away +across the distant landscape; and then he thought of Dorothy Hamblyn, +and wondered if love and romance were as much to a woman as to a man.</p> + +<p>"Yes, freedom from worry is doubtless a great thing," she said, after a +long pause, "but is it the greatest and best?"</p> + +<p>But she waited in vain for an answer. Ralph was thinking of something +else.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>A FRESH PAGE</h3> + + +<p>William Menire got up early on Monday morning and helped to tidy up the +shop before breakfast. He was not sorry that the working week had begun +again. Work left him very little time for brooding and introspection. He +had been twice to church the previous day, but he could not remember a +word of the sermons. His own thoughts had drowned the voice of the +preacher.</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall have a busy week," he said to himself, as he helped his +apprentice to take down the shutters. "The less I think the happier I +shall be."</p> + +<p>During breakfast the postman called. There was only one delivery per +day, and during Sunday there was no delivery at all.</p> + +<p>William glanced at the letters, but did not open any of them. One, in a +blue envelope, was from Mr. Jewell, the solicitor. The postmark bore +Saturday's date.</p> + +<p>"His news is two days late," William reflected. "We really ought to have +two deliveries in a place like this."</p> + +<p>Then he helped himself to some more bacon. His mother was not so well, +and had her breakfast in bed.</p> + +<p>No one called him from the shop, so he was allowed to finish his +breakfast in peace. Then he turned his attention to his correspondence. +The blue envelope was left to the last.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Jewell knows the name of the purchaser?" he reflected, as +he inserted a small paper-knife and cut open the envelope. He unfolded +the letter slowly, then gave a sudden exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Dear Sir,—I am advised by post this morning that your offer for +Hillside Farm has been accepted, and——"</p> + +<p>But he did not stop to read any further. Rushing into the passage, he +seized his hat, and without a word to anyone, hurried away in the +direction of St. Ivel as fast as his legs could carry him.</p> + +<p>Ralph was standing in the middle of the room measuring with his eye the +capacity of an open portmanteau, when William, breathless and excited, +burst in upon him. Ruth was seated at the table, the portmanteau by her +side.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"<span class="smcap">William, breathless and excited, burst in upon him.</span>"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"I say, Ralph, we've got it," William cried excitedly, without noticing +Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Got what?" Ralph said, turning suddenly round.</p> + +<p>"Got the farm," was the reply. "We jumped to conclusions too soon on +Saturday. Jewell says our offer has been accepted."</p> + +<p>"Accepted!"</p> + +<p>"Ay. Here is the letter, if you like to read it. Shut up your +portmanteau, and take it out of sight. You are not going abroad yet +awhile."</p> + +<p>Ruth, who had risen to her feet on William's sudden appearance, now ran +out of the room to hide her tears.</p> + +<p>Ralph seized the lawyer's letter and read it slowly and carefully from +beginning to end. Then he dropped into a chair and read it a second +time. William stood and watched him, with a bright, eager smile lighting +up his face.</p> + +<p>"It seems all right," Ralph said at length.</p> + +<p>"Ay, it's right enough, but I wish we had known earlier."</p> + +<p>"It would have saved us a good many anxious and painful hours."</p> + +<p>"Never mind. All's well that ends well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we haven't got to the end yet," Ralph said, with a laugh. "If that +lode turns out a frost, we shall wish that somebody else had got the +place."</p> + +<p>"Never!" William said, almost vehemently.</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"I shall never regret we've got it, or rather that you have, though +there isn't an ounce of tin in the whole place."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. One cannot give a reason for everything. But I have a +feeling that this opens up a fresh page in the life of both of us."</p> + +<p>"That's true enough, but everything depends on the kind of page it will +be."</p> + +<p>"I'm not worried about that. The thing that interests me is, the powers +that be are not going to shunt us as they hoped. Lord St. Goram meant to +drive me out of the parish, but I'm not going——"</p> + +<p>"Nor I," Ralph interposed, with a laugh; and he shut up the portmanteau, +and pushed it against the wall.</p> + +<p>"We shall have to keep dark, however, till the deeds are signed," +William said. "We must give Sir John no excuse for going back on his +bargain. I'd wager my Sunday coat, if I were a betting man, that he +hasn't the remotest idea we are the purchasers."</p> + +<p>"Won't he look blue when he discovers? You know how he hates me."</p> + +<p>"Ay, he has made no secret of that. It is rumoured, however, that he is +going to live out of the country, and so he may not get to know for some +time. However, we must walk warily till the thing is finally and +absolutely settled. Also"—and William lowered his voice to a +whisper—"you'd better say nothing yet to your sister."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she knows," Ralph replied.</p> + +<p>William looked blank.</p> + +<p>"I told her on Saturday what we had been trying to do. I thought she +might as well know when the thing, as we thought, had come to an end. +Besides, she heard what you said when you came in."</p> + +<p>"I forgot all about her for the moment," William said absently. +"Perhaps, after all, it is as well she knows. I hope, however, she will +not feel in any way obligated to me."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, what are you talking about?" Ralph said, with a smile. +"Why, we owe nearly everything to you."</p> + +<p>"No, no. I couldn't have done less, and so far I have received far more +than I gave. But I must be getting back, or things will have got tied +into a knot," and putting on his hat, he hurried away.</p> + +<p>Ruth came back into the room as soon as William had disappeared. Her +eyes were still red and her lashes wet with tears, but there was a +bright, happy smile on her lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ralph," she said, "isn't it almost too good to be true?"</p> + +<p>"It may not be so good as it looks," he said, in a tone of banter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it must be, Ralph; for, of course, we shall go back again to +Hillside to live."</p> + +<p>"But we can't live on nothing, you know, and the whole thing may turn +out a frost."</p> + +<p>"But you are quite sure it won't, or you and William Menire would not be +so elated at getting it."</p> + +<p>"Are we elated?"</p> + +<p>"You are. You can hardly contain yourself at this moment. You would like +to get on the top of the house and shout."</p> + +<p>"Which would be a very unwise thing to do. We must not breathe a word to +anyone till the thing is absolutely settled."</p> + +<p>"And what will you do then?"</p> + +<p>"Begin prospecting. If I can get as much out of the place as father sunk +in it I shall be quite content."</p> + +<p>During the next few weeks William Menire and the Penlogans saw a good +deal of each other. Nearly every evening after his shutters had been put +up William stole away to St. Ivel. He and Ralph had so many plans to +discuss and so many schemes to mature. Ruth was allowed to listen to all +the debates, and frequently she was asked to give advice.</p> + +<p>It was in some respects a very trying time for William. The more he saw +of Ruth the more he admired her. She seemed to grow bonnier every day. +The sound of her voice stirred his heart like music, her smile was like +summer sunshine. Moreover, she treated him with increasing courtesy, and +even tenderness, so much so that it became a positive pain to him to +hide his affection. And yet he wanted to be perfectly loyal to his +Cousin Sam. Sam had proposed to her, Sam was waiting for an answer, if +he had not already received it, and it would be a very uncousinly act to +put the smallest obstacle in the way.</p> + +<p>Not that William supposed for a moment that he could ever be a rival to +Sam in any true sense of the word. On the other hand, he knew that Ruth +was of so generous and grateful a nature that she might be tempted to +accept him out of pure gratitude if he were bold enough and base enough +to propose to her.</p> + +<p>So William held himself in check with a firm hand and made no sign, but +what the effort cost him no one knew. To sit in the same room with her +evening after evening, to watch the play of her features and see the +light sparkle in her soft brown eyes, and yet never by word or look +betray the passion that was consuming him, was an experience not given +to many men.</p> + +<p>He was too loyal to his ideals ever to dream of marriage for any cause +less than love. Possession was not everything, nor even the greatest +thing. If he could have persuaded himself that there was even the +remotest possibility of Ruth loving him, he would have gone on his knees +to her every day in the week, and would have gladly waited any time she +might name.</p> + +<p>But he had persuaded himself of the very opposite. He was a dozen years +her senior. While she was in the very morning of her youth, he was +rapidly nearing youth's eventide. That she could ever care for him, +except in a friendly or sisterly fashion, seemed an utter impossibility. +The thought never occurred to him but he attempted to strangle it at +once.</p> + +<p>So the days wore away, and lengthened into weeks, and then the news +leaked out in St. Goram that William and Ralph had gone into partnership +and had purchased Hillside Farm. For several days little else was talked +about. What could it mean? What object could they have in view? For +agricultural purposes the place was scarcely worth buying; besides, +William Menire knew absolutely nothing about farming, while most people +knew that Ralph's tastes did not lie in that direction.</p> + +<p>A few people blamed Ralph for "fooling William out of his money," for +they rightly surmised that it was chiefly William's money that had +purchased the estate. Others whispered maliciously that William had +befriended Ralph simply that he might win favour with Ruth; but the +majority of people said that William was much too 'cute a business man +to be influenced by anybody, whether man or woman, and that if he had +invested his money in Hillside Farm he had very good reasons for doing +it. The only sensible attitude, therefore, was to wait and see what time +would bring forth.</p> + +<p>One of the first things Ralph did as soon as the deeds were signed was +to send for Jim Brewer. He had heard that the young miner was out of +work, and in sore need. He had heard also that Jim had never forgiven +himself for not confessing at the outset that it was he who shot the +squire by mistake.</p> + +<p>Ralph had never seen the young fellow since he came out of prison, and +had never desired to see him. He had no love for cowards, and was keenly +resentful of the part Brewer had played. Time, however, had softened his +feelings. The memory of those dark and bitter months was slowly fading +from his mind. Moreover, poor Brewer had suffered enough already for the +wrong he had done. He had been boycotted and shunned by almost all who +knew him.</p> + +<p>Ralph heard by accident one day of the straits to which Brewer had been +driven, and his resentment was changed as if by magic into pity. It was +easy to blame, easy to fling the word "coward" into the teeth of a +weaker brother; but if he had been placed in Jim Brewer's circumstances, +would he have acted a nobler part? It was Brewer's care for his mother +and the children that led him to hide the truth. Moreover, if he had +been wholly a coward, he would never have confessed at all.</p> + +<p>Ralph told Ruth what he intended to do, and her eyes filled in a moment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ralph," she said, "it is the very thing of all others I should like +you to do."</p> + +<p>"For what reason, Ruth?"</p> + +<p>"For every reason that is great and noble and worthy."</p> + +<p>"He played a cowardly part."</p> + +<p>"And he has paid the penalty, Ralph. Your duty now is to be magnanimous. +Besides——" Then she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Besides what?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I have heard you rail at what you call the justice of the strong. You +are strong now, you will be stronger in time, and so you must see to it +that you don't fall into the same snare."</p> + +<p>"Wise little woman," he said affectionately, and then the subject +dropped.</p> + +<p>It was dark when Jim Brewer paid his visit. He came dejectedly and +shamefacedly, much wondering what was in the wind.</p> + +<p>Ralph opened the door for him, and took him into his little office.</p> + +<p>"I understand you are out of work?" he said, pointing him to a seat.</p> + +<p>Jim nodded.</p> + +<p>"You understand prospecting, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can give you a job if you are prepared to take it, and you can +begin work to-morrow if you like."</p> + +<p>Brewer looked up with dim and wondering eyes, while Ralph further +explained, and then he burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I don't deserve it," he sobbed at length. "I did you a mean and +cowardly trick, and I've loathed myself for it ever since."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, never mind that now. It is all over and past, and we'd better +try and forget it."</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget it," Jim said chokingly, "but if you can forgive +me, I shall be—oh, so happy!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, then, I do forgive you, if that is any comfort to you."</p> + +<p>Jim hid his face in his hands and burst into fresh weeping.</p> + +<p>"Forgive my giving way like this," he said at length. "I ain't quite as +strong as I might be. I had influenza a month agone, and it's shook me a +goodish bit."</p> + +<p>"Why, bless me, you look hungry!" Ralph said, eyeing him closely.</p> + +<p>"Do I? I'm very sorry, but the influenza pulls one down terrible."</p> + +<p>"But are you hungry?" Ralph questioned.</p> + +<p>Jim smiled feebly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've been hungrier than this," he said; "but I'll be glad to begin +work to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure you're fit. But come into the next room—we are just going +to have supper."</p> + +<p>Jim hesitated and drew back, but Ralph insisted upon it; and yet, when a +plate of meat was placed before him, he couldn't eat.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," he said, his eyes filling, "but the little ones ain't had +nothing to-day, and they can't bear it as well as me. If you wouldn't +mind me taking it home instead?"</p> + +<p>Ruth sprang to her feet in a moment.</p> + +<p>"I'll let you have plenty for the little ones," she said, with trembling +lips. "Now eat your supper, and enjoy it if you can." And she ran off +into the pantry and quickly returned with a small basket full of food, +which she placed by his side.</p> + +<p>"That ain't for me?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"For you to take home to your mother and the children."</p> + +<p>He laid down his knife and fork and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to go home at once, if you don't mind?" he said brokenly.</p> + +<p>"But you haven't half finished your supper."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to eat it with the little ones and mother, if you wouldn't +mind?"</p> + +<p>"By all means, if you would rather," Ruth said, smiling through unshed +tears.</p> + +<p>"I should feel happier," he said; and he emptied his plate into the +basket.</p> + +<p>Ralph went and opened the door for him, and watched him as he hurried +away into the darkness.</p> + +<p>He came back after a few minutes, and sat down; but neither he nor Ruth +spoke again for some time. It was Ralph who at length broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"He may be a long way from being a hero," he said, "but he has a lot of +goodness in him. I shall never think hardly of him any more."</p> + +<p>Ruth did not reply for a long time, then she said, "I am glad Brewer is +to begin prospecting for you."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"I can't explain myself," she answered, "but it seems a right kind of +beginning, and I think God's blessing will be upon it."</p> + +<p>"We will hope so, at any rate. Yes, we will hope so."</p> + +<p>And then silence fell again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>FAILURE OR FORTUNE</h3> + + +<p>Farmer Jenkins was grimly contemptuous. He hated miners. "They were +always messing up things," sinking pits, covering the hillsides with +heaps of rubbish, erecting noisy and unsightly machinery, cutting +watercourses through fruitful fields, breaking down fences, and, +generally speaking, destroying the peace and quietness of a +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>He told Ralph to his face that he considered he was a fool.</p> + +<p>"Possibly you are right, Mr. Jenkins," Ralph said, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Ay, and you'll laugh t'other side of your face afore you've done with +it."</p> + +<p>"You think so?"</p> + +<p>"It don't require no thinking over. Yer father sunk all his bit of money +in this place, in bringing it under cultivation; and now you're throwing +your bit of money after his, and other folks' to boot, in undoin' all he +did, and turning the place into a desert again."</p> + +<p>"But suppose the real wealth of this place is under the surface, Mr. +Jenkins?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose the sky falls. I tell 'ee there ain't no wealth except what +grows. However, 'tain't no business of mine. If folks like to make fools +of their selves and throw away their bit of money, that's their own +look-out." And Farmer Jenkins spat on the ground and departed.</p> + +<p>Jim Brewer pulled off his coat, and set to work at a point indicated by +Ralph to sink a pit.</p> + +<p>That was the beginning of what Ruth laughingly called "Great St. Goram +Mine," with an emphasis on the word "great."</p> + +<p>After watching Jim for a few minutes, Ralph pulled off his coat also, +and began to assist his employee. It did not look a very promising +commencement for a great enterprise.</p> + +<p>The ground was hard and stony, and Jim's strength was not what it had +been, nor what it would be providing he got proper food and plenty of +it; while Ralph could scarcely be said to be proficient in the use of +pick and shovel.</p> + +<p>By the end of the third day they had got through the "rubbly ground," as +Jim called it, and had struck what seemed a bed of solid rock.</p> + +<p>Ralph got intensely excited. He had little doubt that this was the lode, +the existence of which his father had accidentally discovered. With the +point of his pick he searched round for fissures; but the rock was very +closely knit, and he had had no experience in rock working.</p> + +<p>Jim Brewer, as a practical miner, showed much more skill, and when Ralph +returned to his home that evening his pockets were full of bits of rock +that had been splintered from the lode.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ralph, what news?" was Ruth's first question when she met him at +the door. She was as much excited over the prospecting expedition as he +was.</p> + +<p>"We've struck something," he said eagerly, "but whether it's father's +lode or no I'm not certain yet."</p> + +<p>"But how will you find out?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a sample in my pocket," he said, with a little laugh. "I'll +test it after supper," and he went into his little laboratory and +emptied his pockets on the bench.</p> + +<p>By the time he had washed, and brushed his hair, supper was ready.</p> + +<p>"And who've you seen to-day?" he said, as he sat down opposite his +sister.</p> + +<p>"Not many people," she said, blushing slightly. "Mr. Tremail called this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>He looked up suddenly with a questioning light in his eyes. Sam's name +had scarcely been mentioned for the last two or three weeks, and whether +Ruth had accepted him or rejected him was a matter that had ceased to +trouble him. In fact, his mind had been so full of other things that +there was no place left for the love affairs of Sam Tremail and his +sister.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," he said slowly and hesitatingly; "then I suppose by this +time it may be regarded as a settled affair?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is quite settled," she said, and the colour deepened on her +neck and face.</p> + +<p>"Well, he's a good fellow—a very good fellow by all accounts," he said, +with a little sigh. "I shall be sorry to lose you. Still, I don't know +that you could have done much better."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you are not going to lose me yet," she answered, with a bright +little laugh, though she did not raise her eyes to meet his.</p> + +<p>"Well, no. Not for a month or two, I presume. But I have noticed that +when men become engaged they get terribly impatient," and he dropped his +eyes to his plate again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have heard the same thing," she replied demurely. "But the truth +is, I have decided not to get married at all."</p> + +<p>"You mean——"</p> + +<p>"I could not accept his offer, Ralph. I think a woman must care an awful +lot for a man before she can consent to marry him."</p> + +<p>"And <i>vice versâ</i>," he answered. "Yes, yes, I think you are quite right +in that. But how did he take it, Ruth?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all badly. Indeed, I think he was prepared for my answer. When +he was leaving he met Mary Telfer outside the gate, and he stood for +quite a long time laughing and talking with her."</p> + +<p>"I did not know he knew her."</p> + +<p>"He met her here a fortnight ago."</p> + +<p>"Did Mary know why he came here?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I never told her."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad on the whole you have said No to him. Mind you, he's a +good fellow, and, as things go, an excellent catch. And yet, if I had to +make choice for you, it would not be Sam Tremail. At least I would not +place him first."</p> + +<p>"And who would you place first?" she questioned, raising her eyes +timidly to his.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, that is a secret. No, I am not going to tell you; for women, +you know, always go by the rule of contrary."</p> + +<p>"If you had gone abroad," Ruth said, after a long pause, "and I had been +left alone, I might have given Mr. Tremail a different answer. I don't +know. When a good home is offered to a lonely woman the temptation is +great. But when I knew that you were going to stay at home, and that +Hillside was to be ours once more, I could think of nothing else. Do you +think I would leave Hillside for Pentudy?"</p> + +<p>"But Hillside is not ours altogether, Ruth."</p> + +<p>"It is as good as ours," she answered, with a smile. "William Menire +does not want it; he told me so. He said nothing would make him happier +than to see me living there again."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you that?"</p> + +<p>"He did."</p> + +<p>"That's strange. I always understood he did his best to bring about a +match between you and Sam Tremail."</p> + +<p>"He may have done so. I don't know. He had always a good word for his +cousin. On the whole, I think he was quite indifferent."</p> + +<p>"William can never be indifferent where his friends are concerned."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then, perhaps he will be pleased that I am going to remain to keep +house for you."</p> + +<p>And then the subject dropped.</p> + +<p>Directly supper was over, Ralph retired to his work-room and laboratory, +and began with such appliances as he had to grind the stones into +powder. It was no easy task, for the rock was hard and of exceedingly +fine texture.</p> + +<p>Ruth joined him when she had finished her work, and watched him with +great interest. His first test was made with the ordinary "vanning +shovel," his second with the aid of chemicals. But neither test seemed +conclusive or satisfactory.</p> + +<p>"There's something wrong somewhere," he said, as he put away his tools. +"I must do my next test in the daylight."</p> + +<p>Ruth got very anxious as the days passed away. She learned from her +brother that he had employed more men to sink further prospecting pits +along the course of the lode, but with what results she was unable to +discover.</p> + +<p>Ralph, for some reason, had grown strangely reticent. He spent very +little time at home, and that little was chiefly passed in his +laboratory. His face became so serious that she feared for the worst, +and refrained from asking questions lest she should add to his anxiety.</p> + +<p>William Menire dropped in occasionally of an evening, but she noticed +that the one topic of all others was avoided as if by mutual consent. At +last Ruth felt as if she could bear the suspense no longer.</p> + +<p>"Do tell me, Ralph," she said; "is the whole thing what you call a +frost?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Because you are so absorbed, and look so terribly anxious."</p> + +<p>"I am anxious," he said, "very anxious."</p> + +<p>"Then, so far, the lode has proved to be worthless?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"It is either worthless, or else is so rich in mineral that I hardly +like to think about it."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is this way. The tests we have made so far show such a large +percentage of tin that I am afraid we are mistaken."</p> + +<p>"How? In what way?"</p> + +<p>"If there had been a less quantity, I should not have doubted that it +was really tin, but there is so much of it that I'm afraid. Now do you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"But surely you ought to be able to find out?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; we shall find out in time. A quantity of stuff is in the hands +of expert assayers at the present time, and we are awaiting their +report. If their final test should harmonise with the others, why—well, +I will not say what."</p> + +<p>"And when do you expect to hear?"</p> + +<p>"I hope, to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"But why have you kept me in the dark all this time?"</p> + +<p>"Because we did not wish to make you anxious. It is bad enough that +William and I should be so much on the <i>qui vive</i> that we are unable to +sleep, without robbing you of your sleep also."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall be robbed of my sleep," she said, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Then you are not anxious?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Not very."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because father was not the man to be mistaken in a matter of that kind. +If any man in Cornwall knew tin when he saw it, it was father."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you are so hopeful," he said; and he went off into his +laboratory. He did not tell her that the possibilities of mistake were +far more numerous than she had any conception of, and that it was +possible for the cleverest experts to be mistaken until certain tests +had been applied.</p> + +<p>William Menire turned up a little later in the evening, and joined Ralph +in his laboratory. He would have preferred remaining in the +sitting-room, but Ruth gave him no encouragement to stay. She had grown +unaccountably reserved with him of late. He was half afraid sometimes +that in some way he had offended her. There was a time, and not so long +ago, when she seemed pleased to be in his company, when she talked with +him in the freest manner, when she even showed him little attentions. +But all that was at an end. Ever since that morning when he had rushed +into the house with the announcement that their offer for Hillside Farm +had been accepted, she had been distinctly distant and cool with him.</p> + +<p>He wondered if Ruth had read his heart better than he had been able to +read it himself; wondered whether his love for her had coloured his +motives. He had been anxious to act unselfishly; to act without +reference to his love for Ruth. He was not so sure that he had done so. +And if Ruth had guessed that he hoped to win her favour by being +generous to her brother—and to her—then he could understand why she +was distant with him now. Ruth's love was not to be bought with favours.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously William himself became shy and reserved when Ruth was +about. The fear that she mistrusted him made him mistrustful of himself. +He felt as though he had done a mean thing, and had been found out. If +by chance he caught her looking at him, he fancied there was reproach in +her eyes, and so he avoided looking at her as much as possible.</p> + +<p>All this tended to deepen the reserve that had grown up between them. +Neither understood the other, and William had not the courage to have +the matter out with her. A few plain questions and a few plain answers +would have solved the difficulty and made two people as happy as mortals +could ever hope to be; but, as often happens in this world, the +questions were not asked and the unspoken fear grew and intensified +until it became absolute conviction.</p> + +<p>Ruth did not join her brother and William in the laboratory. She sat +near the fire with a lamp by her side and some unfinished work in her +lap. She caught up her work every now and then, and plied a few vigorous +stitches; then her hands would relax again, and a dreamy, far-away look +would come into her eyes.</p> + +<p>Now and then a low murmur of voices would come through from the little +shed at the back, but she could distinguish nothing that was said. One +thing she was conscious of, there was no note of mirth or merriment, no +suggestion of laughter, in the sounds that fell on her ear. The hours +were so big with Fate, so much was trembling in the balance, that there +was no place for anything but the most serious talk.</p> + +<p>"Nothing seems of much importance to men but business," she said to +herself, with a wistful look in her eyes. "Life consists in the +abundance of the things which they possess. They get their joy out of +conflict—battle. We women live a life apart, and dream dreams with +which they have no sympathy, and see visions which they never see."</p> + +<p>The evening wore away unconsciously. The men talked, the woman dreamed, +but neither the talk nor the dreams brought much satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Ruth stirred herself at length and got supper ready for three, but +William would not stay. He had remained much too long already, and had +no idea it was so late.</p> + +<p>Ruth did not press him, she left that to her brother. Once or twice +William looked towards her, but she avoided his glance. Like all women, +she was proud at heart. William was conscious that Ruth's invitation was +coldly formal. If he remained he would be very uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"No, I must get back," he said decidedly, without again looking at Ruth; +and with a hasty good-evening he went out into the dark.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes he walked rapidly, then he slackened his pace.</p> + +<p>"She grows colder than ever," he said to himself. "She intends me to see +without any mistake that if I expected to win her love by favours, I'm +hugely mistaken. Well, well!" and he sighed audibly. "To-morrow morning +we shall know, I expect, whether it is failure or fortune," he went on, +after a long pause. "It's a tremendous risk we are running, and yet I +would rather win Ruth Penlogan than all the wealth there is in +Cornwall."</p> + +<p>William did not sleep well that night. Neither did Ralph nor Ruth. They +were all intensely anxious for what the morrow should bring.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE PENALTY OF PROSPERITY</h3> + + +<p>By the evening of the following day all St. Goram had heard the news; by +the end of the week it was the talk of the county. The discovery of a +new tin lode was a matter of considerable importance, not only to the +few people directly interested, but to the entire community. It would +mean more work for the miner, more trade for the shopkeeper, and more +traffic for the railway.</p> + +<p>The "out-of-works" straggled into St. Goram by the dozen. Mining experts +came to see and report. Newspaper men appeared on the scene at all hours +of the day, and wrote astonishing articles for the weekly press. Ralph +found himself bombarded on every side. Speculators, financiers, company +promotors, editors, reporters, photographers, miners, and out-of-works +generally made his life a burden. He would have kept out of sight if he +could, and turned William Menire on the crowd. But William was busy +winding up his own business. Moreover, his mother was ill, and never +seemed happy if he was off the premises.</p> + +<p>Ralph almost wished sometimes that he had never discovered the lode. Men +came to him for employment who scarcely knew how to handle a shovel, and +he often had to take off his coat and show them the way. He was like a +beggar who had found a diamond and did not know what to do with it. On +all hands people spoke of his good fortune, but after a few weeks he +began to be in doubt. Difficulties and worries and vexations began to +gather like snowflakes in a winter's storm. Lord St. Goram put in a +claim for a certain right of way. The District Council threatened legal +proceedings if he interfered with a particular watercourse. Sir John +Hamblyn's legal adviser raised a technical point on the question of +transfer. The Chancellor of the Duchy sent a formidable list of +questions relating to Crown rights, while Farmer Jenkins wanted +compensation for the destruction of crops which had never been +destroyed.</p> + +<p>"I've raised a perfect hornets' nest," Ralph said to William Menire one +evening, in his little room at the back of the shop. "Everybody seems to +consider me fair game. There isn't a man in the neighbourhood with any +real or fancied right who has not put in some trumpery claim or other. +The number of lawyers' letters I have received is enough to turn my hair +grey."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind," William said cheerfully, "things will come out right +in the end! I am sorry you have to face the music alone, but I'm as fast +here as a thief in a mill."</p> + +<p>"I know you are," Ralph said sympathetically. "But to tell you the +candid truth, I am not so sure that things will come out right."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because everybody is up in arms against us."</p> + +<p>"Not everybody."</p> + +<p>"Everybody who thinks he can get something out of us. Our little +dominion is surrounded by hostile tribes. I never realised till the last +few days how completely we are hemmed in. On two sides the Hamblyn +estates block our passage, on the third side Lord St. Goram's land +abuts, and on the fourth side old Beecham has his fence and his barbed +wire, and all these people have struck up a threatening attitude. Sir +John is naturally as mad as a hatter that he sold the farm at all. Lord +St. Goram is angry that a couple of plebeians should own land in what he +regards as his parish; while old Beecham, who regards himself as an +aristocrat, sides with his own class, and so between them our fate +promises to be that of the pipkin between the iron pots."</p> + +<p>"But we need not go beyond the bounds of our own property," William +said.</p> + +<p>"There you are mistaken," Ralph answered quickly. "Our small empire is +not self-contained. There is no public road through it or even to it. +Lord St. Goram threatens to block up the only entrance. And you know +what going to law with a landed magnate means."</p> + +<p>William looked grave.</p> + +<p>"Then we must have a 'dressing floor' somewhere," Ralph went on, "and +the only convenient place is Dingley Bottom. Water is abundant there. +But though God gave it, man owns it, and the owner, like an angry dog, +snarls when he is approached."</p> + +<p>"Very good," William said, after a pause, "but don't you see we are +still masters of the situation?"</p> + +<p>"No, I can't say that I do. We are only two very small and very obscure +men with a very limited amount of cash. As a matter of fact, I have got +to the end of mine. In a battle with these Titans of wealth, what can we +do?"</p> + +<p>"Sit tight!"</p> + +<p>"Easier said than done. Your business life in St. Goram has been +terminated. At the present time I am earning nothing. In order to sit +tight, we must have something to sit on."</p> + +<p>"We can farm Hillside, and live on vegetables."</p> + +<p>"Jenkins does not go out till March, and in the meanwhile he is claiming +compensation for damages."</p> + +<p>"We can easily deal with him. He won't go to law; he is too poor, and +has too genuine a horror of lawyers. So he will submit his claim to +arbitration."</p> + +<p>"But even with Jenkins out of the way, and ourselves installed as +farmers, we are still in a very awkward plight. Suppose St. Goram really +contests this right of way—which was never hinted at till now—he can +virtually ruin us with law costs."</p> + +<p>"He would never be so mean as to attempt it."</p> + +<p>Ralph laughed bitterly.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," he said, "I can see clearly enough there is going to +be an organised attempt to crush us. As for the question of meanness, +that will never be considered for a moment. We are regarded as +interlopers who have been guilty of sharp practice. Hence, we must not +only be checkmated, but ground into powder."</p> + +<p>"They haven't done it yet," William said, with a cheerful smile, "and +I'm not going to say die till I'm dead."</p> + +<p>Ralph laughed again, and a little less bitterly than before. William's +hopefulness was not without its influence upon him.</p> + +<p>For a while there was silence, then William spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Ralph," he said; "strength will have to be met with +strength. The strong too often know nothing of either mercy or justice. +One does not like to say such a thing, or even think it, but this is no +time for sentiment."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"You know our hope has been to work the lode ourselves; to increase our +plant, as we have made a little money; to employ only St. Goram men, and +give each one a share in the concern. It was a benevolent idea, but it +is clear we are not to be allowed to carry it out."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Two courses are still open to us. The first is to fill in the +prospecting pits and let the lode lie undeveloped. The second is to let +the financiers come in and form a company that shall be strong enough to +meet Lord St. Goram and his class on their own ground."</p> + +<p>Ralph was silent.</p> + +<p>"I know you do not like either alternative," William went on, "but we +are pushed up into a corner."</p> + +<p>"The first alternative will fail for the reason I mentioned just now," +Ralph interposed. "St. Goram will dispute the right of way."</p> + +<p>"And he knows we cannot afford to go to law with him."</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"Then we are thrown back on the second alternative, and our little dream +of a benevolent autocracy is at an end. Strangers must come in. People +who have no interest in St. Goram will find the money. A board of +directors will manage the concern, and you and I will be lost in the +crowd."</p> + +<p>Ralph raised his eyes for a moment, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Such a plan has its advantages," William went on. "If we had been +allowed to carry out our plan, developments would be very slow."</p> + +<p>"Not so slow. You must remember that the lode is very rich."</p> + +<p>"It would necessarily be slow at the start," William replied. "By +letting the financiers come in, the thing will be started right away on +a big scale. Every man out of work will have a job, and money will begin +to circulate in St. Goram at once."</p> + +<p>"That is no doubt true, but—well, it knocks on the head much I had +hoped for."</p> + +<p>"I know it does; but living in our little corner here, our view may be +narrow and prejudiced. There is honest company promoting as well as +dishonest. Combination of capital need not be any more wrong than +combination of labour. No single man could build a railway from London +to Penzance, and stock it; and if he could, it is better that a company +should own it, and work it, than a single individual. You prefer a +democracy to an autocracy, surely?"</p> + +<p>Ralph's face brightened, but he remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you and I had been able to carry out our idea," William went +on. "We should have been absolute rulers. Are we either of us wise +enough to rule? We might have become, in our own way, more powerful than +Lord St. Goram and all the other county magnates rolled into one. Should +we have grace enough to use our power justly? We have benevolent +intentions, but who knows how money and power might corrupt? They nearly +always do corrupt. We complain of the way the strong use their strength; +perhaps it is a mercy the temptation is not put in our way."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right, William," Ralph said at length, "though I +confess I distrust the whole gang of company promoters that have been +buzzing about me for the last month."</p> + +<p>"Why not consult Sir John Liskeard? He is our member; he is interested +in the place. He knows most people, and he would at least bring an +unprejudiced mind to bear on the question."</p> + +<p>Ralph gave a little gasp. To see Sir John he would have to go to London. +If he went to London, he might see Dorothy Hamblyn.</p> + +<p>He did not speak for a moment. The sudden vision of Dorothy's face +blotted out everything. It was curious how she dominated him still; how +his heart turned to her constantly as the needle to the pole; how her +face came up before him in the most unexpected places, and at the most +unexpected times; how the thought of her lay at the back of all his +enterprises and all his hopes.</p> + +<p>"It means money going to London," he said at length.</p> + +<p>"We must sow if we would reap," William replied, "and our balance at the +bank is not quite exhausted yet. Don't forget that we are partners in +this enterprise, and in any case we could sell the farm for a great deal +more than we gave for it."</p> + +<p>"We may be compelled to sell it yet," Ralph said ruefully.</p> + +<p>"But not until we are compelled," was the cheerful reply. "No, no; if we +don't win this time, it will not be for want of trying."</p> + +<p>"My experience has not been encouraging," Ralph answered. "In every +struggle so far, I have gone under. The strong have triumphed. Right and +justice have been set aside."</p> + +<p>"You have gone under only to come to the top again," William laughed.</p> + +<p>"But think of father and mother."</p> + +<p>"Martyrs in the sacred cause of freedom," William answered. "The rights +of the people are not won in a day."</p> + +<p>Ralph was silent for a while, then he looked up with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Your judgment is sounder than mine," he said. "I will go to London +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He had no difficulty in getting an interview with Sir John. The member +for the St. Hilary division of the county had his eye on the next +election. Moreover, he was keenly interested in the new discovery, and +was not without hope that he might be able to identify himself with the +concern. He manifested distinct pleasure when Ralph was announced, and +gave all his attention to him at once.</p> + +<p>Ralph put the whole case before him from start to finish. Liskeard +listened attentively with scarcely an interruption. He smiled now and +then as Ralph explained his own hope and purpose—his benevolent +autocracy, as William called it—and how he had been foiled by the ring +of strong men—strong in wealth and social influence—who threatened to +strangle all his hopes and schemes.</p> + +<p>It took Ralph a long time to tell his story, for he was anxious to leave +no point obscure. Sir John listened without the least trace of weariness +or impatience. He was too keenly interested to notice how rapidly time +was flying.</p> + +<p>"I think your partner has the true business instinct," he said at +length. "It is almost impossible to carry out great schemes by private +enterprise."</p> + +<p>"Then you approve of forming a company?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly. I have been expecting to see in the papers for weeks +past that such a company had been formed."</p> + +<p>"I mistrust the whole lot of them," Ralph said, with a touch of +vehemence in his tone. "Everybody appears to be on the make."</p> + +<p>"It is of very little use quarrelling with human nature," Sir John said, +with a smile. "We must take men as we find them, and be careful to keep +our eyes open all the time."</p> + +<p>"If someone stronger than yourself ties you to a tree and robs you, I +don't see much use in keeping your eyes open," Ralph answered bluntly. +"Indeed, it might be a prudent thing to keep your eyes shut."</p> + +<p>Liskeard lay back in his chair and laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"I see where you are," he said at length. "Still, there is a soul of +honour alive in the world even among business men. Don't forget that our +great world of commerce is built on trust. There are blacklegs, of +course, but in the main men are honest."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear it," Ralph answered dubiously. "But now to get to the +main point. Will you help us in this thing? William Menire and myself +are both inexperienced, both ignorant, both mistrustful of ourselves, +and particularly of other people."</p> + +<p>"Can you trust me?" Liskeard questioned, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we can, or I should not have come to you."</p> + +<p>"Then I think I may say I can put the thing through for you."</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing," Ralph said warmly. "There is not a lode a quarter +so rich in the three parishes. I question if there is anything equal to +it in the whole county."</p> + +<p>"I have read the assayer's report," Sir John answered.</p> + +<p>"And because it is so good," Ralph went on, "I'd like St. Goram to have +the first claim, if you understand. If there are any preferences, let +them go to the people at home."</p> + +<p>"And your share?"</p> + +<p>"William and I will leave our interests in your hands. You are a lawyer. +All we want is justice and fair play."</p> + +<p>"I understand. If you will dine with me at the House to-morrow night I +think we shall be able to advance the case a step further."</p> + +<p>Ralph got into an omnibus in Fleet Street, and alighted at Westminster. +Thence he made his way into St. James's Park. The weather was raw and +cold, the trees bare, the paths muddy and deserted. He wandered up and +down for the best part of an hour—it was too cold to sit down—then he +made his way across Hyde Park Corner and struck Rotten Row.</p> + +<p>A few schoolgirls, accompanied by riding masters, were trotting up and +down. A few closed carriages rolled by on the macadam road, a few +pedestrians sauntered listlessly along under the bare trees.</p> + +<p>A few soldiers might be seen talking to giggling nursemaids, but the one +face he hungered to see did not reveal itself. He walked almost to +Kensington Palace and back again, by which time night had begun to fall. +Then with a little sigh he got into a 'bus, and was soon rolling down +Piccadilly.</p> + +<p>London seemed a lonely place in the summer time; it was lonelier than +ever in the winter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>LIGHT AND SHADOW</h3> + + +<p>By the end of the following May, Great St. Goram Mine was in full +working order. Ralph was installed as managing director; William was +made a director and secretary to the company. Lord St. Goram was in +Scotland at the time, and when he applied for shares he was too late. +His chagrin knew no bounds. He had imagined that he had Ralph and +William in the hollow of his hand. That two country bumpkins, as he was +pleased to call them, would be able to float a company had not occurred +to him. He knew the project that first occupied their thoughts. He knew +that he could make it impossible for them to carry their ideas into +effect.</p> + +<p>His agent had hinted to William that his lordship would be willing to +take the farm off their hands at a price; hence, he believed that by +applying gentle pressure, and waiting, he would be able in a very short +time to get the whole thing into his hands.</p> + +<p>For a few weeks he threatened the company with all sorts of pains and +penalties, but the company was not to be bluffed. Private interest had +to give way before public convenience. Where the welfare of a whole +community was at stake, no petty and niggling contention about right of +way was allowed to stand. The company made its own right of way, and was +prepared to pay any reasonable damage.</p> + +<p>With the company at his back, Ralph laughed in the consciousness of his +strength. He had never felt strong before. It was a new experience, and +a most delightful sensation. He had never lacked courage or will power, +but he had been made to feel that environment or destiny—or whatever +name people liked to give it—was too strong for him. Strength is +relative, and in comparison with the forces arrayed against him, he had +felt weaker than an infant.</p> + +<p>When his father was driven from his home, he had bowed his head with the +rest in helpless submission. When he was arrested on a false and +ridiculous charge, he submitted without protest. When he saw his mother +dying in a workhouse hospital, he could only groan in bitterness of +spirit. When the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company gave him notice to +suspend operations, he had tamely to submit. In fact, submission had +been the order of his life. It had been given to others to rule; it had +been his to obey.</p> + +<p>This would not have been irksome if the rule of the strong had been wise +and just. But when justice was thrust aside or trampled under foot, as +if it had no place in the social order, when equity was only the +shuttlecock and plaything of interested people, when the weak were +denied their rights simply because they were weak, and the reward of +merit was to be cuffed by the tyrant, then his soul revolted and he grew +bitter and cynical in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>Now, however, the tables had been turned. For the first time in his life +he felt himself among the strong. He need no longer sit down tamely +under an injustice, or submit to insults in silence. Success was power. +Money was power. Combination was power.</p> + +<p>He pulled himself up suddenly at length with a feeling almost of terror. +He was in danger of becoming what he had condemned so much in others. +The force and subtlety of the temptation stood revealed as in a blinding +flash. It was so splendid to have strength, to be able to stalk across +the land like a giant, to do just what pleased him to do, to consult no +one in the doing of it. It was just in that the temptation and the +danger lay. It was so easy to forget the weak, to overlook the +insignificant, to treat the feeble as of no account. Strength did not +constitute right.</p> + +<p>That was a truth that tyrants never learned and that Governments too +frequently shut their eyes to. God would hold him responsible for his +strength. If he had the strength of ten thousand men, he still had no +right to do wrong.</p> + +<p>So at length he got to see things in their true proportion and +perspective. The strength that had come to him was only an adventitious +kind of strength, after all. Unless he had another and a better kind of +strength to balance it, it might prove his destruction. What he needed +most was moral strength, strength to use wisely and justly his +opportunities, strength to hold the balance evenly, strength to do the +right, whatever it might cost him, to suffer loss for conscience' sake, +to do to others what he would they should do to him.</p> + +<p>If he ever forgot the pit out of which he had been digged, success would +be a failure in the most direful sense.</p> + +<p>He trembled when he saw the danger, and prayed God to help him. He was +walking on the edge of a precipice and knew it; a precipice over which +thousands of so-called successful men had fallen.</p> + +<p>"Ruth," he said to his sister one evening, with a grave look in his +eyes, "if you ever see me growing proud, remind me that my mother died +in a workhouse."</p> + +<p>"Ralph?" she questioned, with a look of surprise on her face.</p> + +<p>"I am not joking," he said solemnly. "I was never in more sober earnest. +I have stood in slippery places many times before, but never in one so +slippery as this."</p> + +<p>"Are not things going well at the mine?" she asked, in alarm.</p> + +<p>"Too well," he answered. "The shareholders will get twenty per cent. on +their money the first year."</p> + +<p>"And you are a large shareholder," she said, with a look of elation in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Besides which, there are the dues to the landlord, as well as the +salary of the manager. Do you not see, Ruth, that this sudden change of +fortune is a perilous thing?"</p> + +<p>"To some people it might be, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"It is to me. It came to me this afternoon as I walked across the +'floors' and men touched their caps to me."</p> + +<p>"But you can never forget the past," she said.</p> + +<p>"But men do forget the past," he answered. "Would you ever imagine for a +moment that Lord Probus, for instance, was not to the manner born?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen him only two or three times," she answered; "but it seems +to me that he is always trying to be a lord, which proves——"</p> + +<p>"Which proves what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, a man who is really a gentleman does not try to be one. +He is one, and there's an end of it; he hasn't to try."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see. Then forgetting the past is all a pretence?"</p> + +<p>"A man may forget his poverty, but I do not think he can forget his +parents. You need not remember where mother died, but how she and father +lived; their goodness is our greatest fortune."</p> + +<p>He did not make any further reply then, and a little later he put on his +hat and said—</p> + +<p>"I am going along to see William. He went home poorly this morning."</p> + +<p>"Poorly?"</p> + +<p>"Caught a chill, I fancy. The weather has been very changeable, you +know."</p> + +<p>Ruth felt a sudden tightening of the strings about her heart, and when +Ralph had disappeared she sat down by the window and looked with +unseeing eyes out across the garden.</p> + +<p>She was back again in the old home, the home in which she had spent so +many happy and peaceful years, and from which she had been exiled so +long. She was very happy, on the whole, and yet she realised in a very +poignant sense that Hillside could never be again what it had been.</p> + +<p>It was bound to be something more or something less. Nothing could +restore the past, nothing could give back what had been taken away.</p> + +<p>The twilight was deepening rapidly across the landscape, the tender +green of spring was vanishing into a sombre black. From over the low +hill came fitfully the rattle of stamps which had been erected in +Dingley Bottom, and occasionally the creak of winding gear could be +faintly heard.</p> + +<p>From the front windows of the house there was no change in the +landscape, but from the kitchen and dairy windows the engine-house, with +its tall, clumsy stack, loomed painfully near. Ralph had planted a +double line of young trees along the ridge, which in time would shut off +that part of the farm given over to mining operations, but at present +they were only just breaking into leaf.</p> + +<p>It was at first a very real grief to Ruth that the mine so disfigured +the farm. She recalled the years of ungrudging toil given by her father +to bring the waste land under cultivation, and now the fields were being +turned into a desert once more. She soon, however, got reconciled to the +change. The best of the fields remained unharmed, and the man and boy +who looked after the farm had quite as much as they could attend to. +Ralph did not mind so long as there was a bowl of clotted cream on the +table at every meal. Beyond that his interest in the farm ceased.</p> + +<p>But the mine was a never-failing source of pleasure to him. Tin was not +the only product of those mysterious veins that threaded their way +through the solid earth. There were nameless ores that hitherto had been +treated as of no account because no use had been found for them.</p> + +<p>Ralph began making experiments at once. His laboratory grew more rapidly +than any other department. His early passion for chemistry received +fresh stimulus, and had room for full play, with the result that he made +his salary twice over by what he saved out of the waste.</p> + +<p>William Menire's interest in the mine was purely commercial, and in that +respect he was of great value. He laboured quietly and unceasingly, +finding in work the best antidote to loneliness and disappointment. His +mother was no longer with him. She had joined the silent procession of +the dead. He was thankful for some things that she did not live to see +the winding up of his little business—for it seemed little to him now +in contrast with the wider and vaster interests of the company with +which he was connected. She had been very proud of the shop, +particularly proud of the great plate-glass window her son had put in at +his own expense.</p> + +<p>The edict of Lord St. Goram to restore the house to its original +position had been a great blow to her. She had adored the +aristocracy—they were not as other men, mean and petty and +revengeful—hence the demand of his lordship shattered into fragments +one of her most cherished illusions.</p> + +<p>She did not live to hear the click and ring of the trowel, telling her +that a brick wall was taking the place of the plate glass. On the very +last day of her life she heard as usual the tinkle of the shop bell and +the murmur of voices below.</p> + +<p>When William had laid her to rest in the churchyard he disposed of his +stock as rapidly as possible, restored the house to its original +condition as far as it was possible to do it, and then turned his back +upon St. Goram.</p> + +<p>The little village of Veryan was much nearer the mine, much nearer the +Penlogans, and just then seemed much nearer heaven. So he got rooms with +a garrulous but godly old couple, and settled down to bachelordom with +as much cheerfulness as possible.</p> + +<p>That he felt lonely—shockingly lonely at times—it was of no use +denying. He missed the late customers, the "siding up" when the shutters +were closed, the final entries in his day-book and ledger. Big and +wealthy and important as the Great St. Goram Tin Mining Company was, and +exacting as his labour was in the daytime, he was left with little or +nothing to do after nightfall. The evenings hung on his hands. Books +were scarce and entertainments few, and sometimes he smoked more than +was good for him.</p> + +<p>He went to see Ralph as often as he could find a reasonable excuse, and +always received the heartiest welcome, but for some reason the cloud of +Ruth's reserve never lifted. She was sweet and gentle and hospitable, +but the old light had gone out of her eyes and the old warmth from her +speech. She rarely looked straight into his face, and rarely remained +long in his company.</p> + +<p>He puzzled himself constantly to find out the reason, and had not the +courage to ask. He wanted to be her friend, to be taken into her +confidence, to be treated as a second brother. Anything more than that +he never dared hope for. That she might love him was a dream too foolish +to be entertained. He was getting old—at any rate he was much nearer +forty than thirty, while she was in the very flower of her youth. So he +wondered and speculated, and got no nearer a solution of the problem.</p> + +<p>Ralph was so engrossed in his own affairs that he never noticed any +change, and never guessed that Ruth was the light of William's eyes.</p> + +<p>The idea that William Menire might be in love occurred to no one. He was +looked upon as a confirmed bachelor, and when the public has assigned a +man to that position he may be as free with the girls as he likes +without awaking the least suspicion.</p> + +<p>Ruth sat by the window until it had grown quite dark, and then a maid +came in and lighted the lamp. She took up her work when the maid had +gone, and tried to centre her thoughts on the pattern she was working; +but her eyes quickly caught a far-away expression, and she found herself +listening for the footfall of her brother, while her hands lay +listlessly in her lap.</p> + +<p>Several times she shook herself—metaphorically—and plied her needle +afresh, but the effort never lasted very long. An unaccountable sense of +fear or misgiving stole into her heart. She grew restless and +apprehensive, and yet she had no tangible reason for anxiety.</p> + +<p>William Menire was more her brother's friend than hers, and the fact +that he had caught cold was not a matter of any particular moment. Of +course a cold might develop into something serious. He might be +ill—very ill. He might die. She caught her breath suddenly, and went +and opened the door. The stars were burning brightly in the clear sky +above, and the wind blew fresh and strong from the direction of +Treliskey Plantation. She listened intently for the sound of footsteps, +but the only noise that broke the silence was the rattle of the stamps +in Dingley Bottom.</p> + +<p>Somehow she hated the sound to-night. It grated harshly on her ears. It +had no human tone, no note of sympathy. The stamps were grinding out +wealth for greedy people, careless of who might suffer or die.</p> + +<p>She came in and shut the door after a few moments, and looked +apprehensively at the clock. Ralph was making a long call.</p> + +<p>The house grew very still at length. The servant went to bed. The clock +ticked loudly on the mantelpiece; the wind rumbled occasionally in the +chimney.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door opened, and her brother stood before her. His face was +flushed, and there was a troubled look in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are late, Ralph," she said, scarcely daring to look at him.</p> + +<p>"William is very ill," he said, as if he had not heard her words, +"dangerously ill."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Pneumonia, the doctor fears. He is terribly anxious."</p> + +<p>"Who—the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. If William dies I shall lose my best friend."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>LOVE AND LIFE</h3> + + +<p>Ruth lay awake long after she had retired to rest. The fear which had +been expressed by Ralph increased her own a thousandfold. If William +should die, not only would her brother lose his best friend—there was a +more terrible thought than that, a thought which need not be expressed +in words, for nobody understood.</p> + +<p>Somebody has said that a woman never loves until her love is asked for; +that though all the elements are there, they remain dormant till a +simple question fires the train. But love—especially the love of a +woman—is too subtle, too elusive a thing to be covered by any sweeping +generalisation.</p> + +<p>William had never spoken his love to Ruth, never even looked it, yet the +fire had got alight in Ruth's heart somehow. When it began she did not +know. For long she had no suspicion what it meant. Later on she tried to +trample it out; she felt ashamed and humiliated. The bare thought of +loving a man who had never spoken of love to her covered her with +confusion.</p> + +<p>Sometimes she tried to persuade herself that it was not love she felt +for William Menire, but only gratitude mingled with admiration. He had +been the best friend she and her brother had ever known. All their +present prosperity they owed to him, and everything he had done for them +was without ostentation. He was not a showy man, and only those who knew +him intimately guessed how great he was, how fine his spirit, how +exalted his ideals.</p> + +<p>She had never thought much about love until Sam Tremail proposed to her; +but when once the subject stared her in the face she was bound to look +at it. And while she was looking and trying to find what answer her +heart gave, William came with the announcement that the farm was theirs, +and theirs through his help and instrumentality. From that moment she +knew that it was not Sam Tremail she loved. Of course, she had known all +along that Sam was not the equal of his cousin in any sense of the word. +But Sam was young and handsome and well-to-do, while William was +journeying toward middle life, and had many of the ways of a confirmed +bachelor.</p> + +<p>It came to her as in a flash that all true love must be built on +reverence. Youth and good looks might inspire a romantic attachment, a +fleeting emotion, a passing fancy, but the divine passion of love grew +out of something deeper. It was not a dewdrop sparkling on a leaf. It +was a fountain springing out of the heart of the hills.</p> + +<p>With knowledge came pain and confusion. She had not the courage to look +William in the eyes. She was in constant dread lest she should reveal +her secret. She would not for the world that he should know. If he +should ever guess she would die of shame.</p> + +<p>From that day onward she had a harder battle to fight than anyone +knew—perhaps the hardest of all battles that a woman is called upon to +wage. William came and went constantly; helped them when they removed to +Hillside, and was never failing in friendly suggestions. Ralph was so +full of the mine that such small details as wallpapers and carpets and +curtains never occurred to him, and when they were mentioned he told +Ruth to make her own choice. It was William who came to the rescue in +those days, and saved her an infinity of trouble and anxiety.</p> + +<p>Ruth thought of all this as she lay awake, listening to the faint and +fitful rattle of the stamps beyond the hill. Was this brave, unselfish +life to be suddenly quenched—this meek but heroic soul to be taken away +from earth?</p> + +<p>She was pale and hollow-eyed when she came downstairs next morning, but +Ralph was too absorbed to notice it. He too had been kept awake thinking +about William, and directly breakfast was over he hurried away to Veryan +to make inquiries.</p> + +<p>Ruth waited till noon for news—waited with more impatience than she had +ever felt before. She had no need to ask Ralph if William was better. +She knew by the look in his eyes that he was not. After that, the hours +and days moved with leaden feet. Ralph went to Veryan twice every day, +and sometimes three times. Ruth grew more and more silent. Her task +became more painfully difficult. Other people could talk about William, +could praise his qualities, could recount the story of his simple and +heroic life, but she, by her very love for him, was doomed to silence.</p> + +<p>She envied the nurse who could sit by his bedside and minister to his +needs. She felt that it was her place. No one cared for him as she did. +It seemed a cruel thing that her very love should keep her from his +side, and shut her up in silence.</p> + +<p>Ralph came in hurriedly one evening, and sat down to table; but after +eating a few mouthfuls, he laid down his knife and fork, and pushed his +plate from him.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know William is dying?" he said, without raising his +eyes.</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a startled expression, but did not speak. She +made an effort, but the words froze on her tongue.</p> + +<p>"One should not doubt the Eternal wisdom," he went on huskily, "but it +seems a huge mistake. There are a hundred men who could be better +spared."</p> + +<p>"God knows best," Ruth tried to say, but she was never sure that the +words escaped her lips.</p> + +<p>"He seems quite resigned to his fate," Ralph continued, after a pause. +"The doctor told him this morning that if he had any worldly affairs to +settle he should put them in order without delay. He appears to be +waiting now for the end."</p> + +<p>"He is not afraid?" Ruth questioned, bringing out the words with a great +effort.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. He reminds me of father more than any man I have ever known. +His confidence is that of a little child. By-the-bye, he would like to +see you before he goes."</p> + +<p>"See me, Ralph?"</p> + +<p>"He expressed himself very doubtfully and timidly, and asked me if I +thought you would mind coming to say good-bye."</p> + +<p>"There could be no harm in it, Ralph?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. He has been like an elder brother to us both."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes." And she rose from the table at once, and went upstairs to +get her hat and jacket.</p> + +<p>"What, ready so soon?" he questioned, when she appeared again.</p> + +<p>"I may be too late as it is," she answered, in a voice that she scarcely +recognised as her own.</p> + +<p>"I will go with you," he said, "for it will be dark when you return."</p> + +<p>For awhile they walked rapidly and in silence, but when the village came +in sight they slackened their pace a little.</p> + +<p>"It is hard to give up hope," Ralph said, as if speaking to himself. "He +was so healthy and so strong, and he has lived a life so temperate and +so clean that he ought to pull through anything."</p> + +<p>"Does the doctor say there is no hope?"</p> + +<p>"He has none himself."</p> + +<p>William was listening with every sense alert. He knew by some subtle +instinct, some spiritual telepathy, that Ruth was near. He caught her +whisper in the hall, he knew her footstep when she came quickly up the +stairs, and the beating of his heart seemed to get beyond all bounds.</p> + +<p>He was too weak to raise himself in bed, but his eyes were strained +toward the door.</p> + +<p>"You will leave me when she comes," he said to the nurse as soon as he +heard Ruth's voice in the hall, and directly the door was pushed open +the nurse disappeared.</p> + +<p>Ruth walked straight up to the bedside without faltering. William feebly +raised his wasted hand, and she took it in both hers. She was very +composed. She wondered at herself, and was barely conscious of the +effort she was making.</p> + +<p>He was the first to break the silence, and he spoke with a great effort, +and with many pauses.</p> + +<p>"Will you not sit there, where I can see you?" he said, indicating a +chair close to the bedside. "It is very good of you to come. I thought +you would, for you have always been kind to me."</p> + +<p>The tears came very near her eyes, but she resolutely raised her hand to +hide them from William.</p> + +<p>"You and your brother have been my dearest friends," he went on. "Ralph +is a noble fellow, and I do not wonder that you are proud of him. It has +been a great joy to me to know him—to know you both."</p> + +<p>"That feeling has been mutual," Ruth struggled to say; but William +scarcely waited to hear her out. Perhaps he felt that what he had to say +must be said quickly.</p> + +<p>"I thought I would like to tell you how much I have valued your +friendship—there can be no harm in that, can there?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," she interposed.</p> + +<p>"But that is not all," he went on. "I want to say something more, and +there surely can be no harm in saying it now. I am nearing the end, the +doctor says."</p> + +<p>"Say anything you like," she interrupted, in a great sob of emotion.</p> + +<p>"You cannot be angry with me now," he continued. "You might have been +had I told you sooner. I know I have been very presumptuous, very +daring, but I could not help it. You stole my heart unconsciously. I +loved you in those dark days when you lived in the little cottage at St. +Goram. I wanted to help you then. And oh, Ruth, I have loved you ever +since—not with the blind, unreasoning passion of youth, but with the +deep, abiding reverence of mature years. My love for you is the +sweetest, purest, strongest thing I have ever cherished; and now that I +am going hence the impulse became so strong that I could not resist +telling you."</p> + +<p>She turned to him suddenly, her eyes swimming in tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, William——" Then her voice faltered.</p> + +<p>"You are not angry with me, Ruth?" he questioned, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Angry with you? Oh, William——But why did you not tell me before?"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid to tell you, Ruth—afraid to put an end to our +friendship."</p> + +<p>She knelt down on the floor by his bedside and laid her face on his +hand, and he felt her hot tears falling like rain.</p> + +<p>For awhile neither of them spoke again; then she raised her head +suddenly, and with a pitiful smile on her face she said—</p> + +<p>"You must not die, William!"</p> + +<p>"Not die?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"No, no! For my sake you must get better," and she looked eagerly and +earnestly into his eyes, as though she would compel assent to her words.</p> + +<p>"Why for your sake?" he asked slowly and musingly.</p> + +<p>"Why? Oh, William, do you not understand? Can you not see——"</p> + +<p>"Surely—surely," he said, a great light breaking over his face, "you +cannot mean that—that——"</p> + +<p>"But I do mean it," she interrupted. "How could I mean anything else?"</p> + +<p>He half rose in bed, as if inspired with new strength, then lay back +again with a weary and long-drawn sigh. She rose quickly to her feet, +and bent over him with a little cry. A pallor so deathly stole over his +face that she thought he was dying.</p> + +<p>After a few moments he rallied again, and smiled reassuringly. Then the +nurse came back into the room.</p> + +<p>"You will come again?" he whispered, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>She answered him with a smile, and then hurried down the stairs.</p> + +<p>She gave no hint to Ralph of what had passed between them, and during +the journey home through the darkness very little was said; but she +walked with a more buoyant step than during the outward journey, and in +her eye there was a brighter light, though Ralph did not see it.</p> + +<p>She scarcely slept at all that night. She spent most of the time on her +knees in prayer. Before Ralph got down to breakfast she had been to +Veryan and back again. She did not allude, however, to this second +journey. William was still alive, and in much the same condition.</p> + +<p>For nearly two days he dwelt in the valley of the shadow, and no one +could tell whether the angel of life or of death would prevail. The +doctor looked in every few hours, and did all that human skill could do. +William, though too spent to talk, and almost too weak to open his eyes, +was acutely conscious of what was taking place.</p> + +<p>To the onlookers it seemed as if he was passing into a condition of +coma, but it was not so. He was fighting for life with all the will +power he possessed. He had something to live for now. A new hope was in +his heart, a new influence was breathing upon him. So he fought back the +destroying angel inch by inch, and in the end prevailed.</p> + +<p>There came a day when Ruth again sat by his bedside, holding his hand.</p> + +<p>"I am getting better, sweetheart," he said, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, William."</p> + +<p>"Your love and prayers have pulled me through."</p> + +<p>"I could not let you go," she said.</p> + +<p>"God has been very merciful," he answered reverently. "Next to His love +the most wonderful thing is yours."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be wonderful?" she asked, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"You are so beautiful," he answered, "and I am so unworthy, and so——"</p> + +<p>But she laid her hand upon his mouth and smothered the end of the +sentence.</p> + +<p>When once he had turned the corner he got better rapidly, but long +before he was able to leave the house all St. Goram knew that Ruth +Penlogan had promised to be his wife.</p> + +<p>Ralph saw very little of his sister in those days, she spent so much of +her time in going and coming between Hillside and Veryan. Fortunately +the affairs of the mine kept his hands occupied and his thoughts busy, +otherwise he would have felt himself neglected and alone.</p> + +<p>It was not without a pang he saw the happiness of William and his +sister. Not that he envied them; on the contrary, he rejoiced in their +newly found joy; and yet their happiness did accentuate his own +heartache and sense of loss.</p> + +<p>A year had passed since that memorable day in St. James's Park when he +told Dorothy Hamblyn that he loved her. He often smiled at his temerity, +and wondered what spirit of daring or of madness possessed him.</p> + +<p>He had tried hard since, as he had tried before, to forget her, but +without success. For good or ill she held his heart in bondage. What had +become of her he did not know. Hamblyn Manor was in possession of the +gardener and his wife, and one other servant. There were rumours that +some "up-the-country" people had taken it furnished for a year, but as +far as he knew no one as yet had appeared on the scene. Sir John, it was +said, was living quietly at Boulogne, but what had become of Dorothy and +her brother no one seemed to know.</p> + +<p>One afternoon he left Dingley Bottom earlier than usual, and wandered up +the long slant in the direction of Treliskey Plantation. His intention +was to cross the common to St. Goram, but on reaching the stile he stood +still, arrested by the force of memory and association.</p> + +<p>As he looked back into the valley he could not help contrasting the +present with the past. How far away that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon +seemed when he first came face to face with Dorothy Hamblyn! How much +had happened since! Then he was a poor, struggling, discontented, +ambitious youth, without prospects, without influence, and almost +without hope.</p> + +<p>Now he was rich—for riches are always relative—and a man. He had +prospects also, and influence. Perhaps he had more influence than any +other man in the parish. And yet he was not sure that he was not just as +discontented as ever. He was gaining the world rapidly, but he was still +unsatisfied. His heart was hungering for something he had not got.</p> + +<p>He might get more money, more power, more authority, more influence. +What then? The care of the world increased rather than diminished. It +was eternally true, "A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the +things he possesseth."</p> + +<p>His reflections were disturbed at length by the clicking of the gate +leading into the plantation. He turned his head suddenly, and found +himself face to face with Dorothy Hamblyn.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>PERPLEXING QUESTIONS</h3> + + +<p>There was no chance of withdrawal for either. If Ralph had caught a +glimpse of Dorothy earlier, he would have hidden himself and let her +pass; but there was no possibility of that now. He could only stand +still and wait. Would she recognise him, or would she cut him dead? It +was an interesting moment—from his point of view, almost tragic.</p> + +<p>Wildly as his heart was beating, he could not help noticing that she +looked thin and pale, as though she had recovered from a recent illness. +She came straight on, not hesitating for a moment, and his heart seemed +to beat all the more tumultuously with every step she took.</p> + +<p>If in the long months that had elapsed since he saw her last he had +grown for a moment indifferent, his passion flamed up again to a white +heat at the first glimpse of her face. For him there was no other woman +on earth. Her beauty had increased with the passing of the years; her +character, strengthened and ennobled by suffering, showed itself in +every line of her finely expressive face.</p> + +<p>It was a trying moment for both, and perhaps more trying for Dorothy +than for Ralph. For good or ill she knew that this young man had +affected her whole life. He had crossed her path in the most critical +moments of her existence. He had spoken words almost at haphazard which +had changed the whole current of her thoughts. He had dared even to tell +her that he loved her, when influence was being brought to bear on her +to bestow her affection in another direction.</p> + +<p>There were moments when she felt half angry that she was unable to +forget him. He was out of her circle, and it seemed madness to let his +image remain in her heart for a single moment, and yet the fascination +of his personality haunted her. He was like no other man she had ever +met. His very masterfulness touched her fancy as nothing had ever done +before. If only he had been of her own set she would have made a hero of +him.</p> + +<p>When she left him in the Park after that passionate outburst of his, she +made up her mind that she must forget him—utterly and absolutely. The +situation had become dangerous; her heart was throbbing so wildly that +she could scarcely bear it; the tense glow and passion of his words rang +through her brain like the clashing of bells; her nerves were tingling +to her finger-tips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what madness all this is," she said to herself—"what utter +madness!" And yet all the while her heart seemed to be leaping +exultantly. This clever, daring, handsome democrat loved her—loved her. +She lingered over the words unconsciously.</p> + +<p>Lord Probus had said he loved her, and had tempted her with a thousand +brilliant toys; Archie Temple—with whom she had walked in the Park more +than once—had professed unbounded and undying devotion; but her heart +had never leaped for a moment in response to their words. The only man +who moved her against her will, and sent the blood rushing through her +veins like nectar, was this son of the people, this man who hated her +class and tried his best to hate her.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, her resolve was fixed and definite. She must forget him. +Unless she put him out of her thoughts he would spoil her whole life. +Socially, they belonged to different hemispheres. The fact that her +father was hard pressed for money, and was living abroad in order to +economise, did not alter their relative positions. A Hamblyn was still a +Hamblyn, though he lived in an almshouse.</p> + +<p>It was easier, however, to make good resolves than to carry them into +effect. Events would not allow her to forget. As the companion and +private secretary of the Dowager Duchess of Flint, she had to read the +papers every day, and not only the political articles, but the +commercial and financial. The success of the Great St. Goram Mine was +talked of far and wide, and the new discoveries of Ralph Penlogan, the +brilliant young chemist and mineralogist, were the theme of numberless +newspaper articles. Dorothy found herself searching all the papers that +came her way for some mention of his name, and her heart seemed to leap +into her mouth every time she saw it in print.</p> + +<p>The dowager often dabbled in stocks and shares for want of something +better to do. She liked to have what she called a "flutter" now and +then, and she managed to pick up a few Great St. Goram shares at eighty +per cent. premium.</p> + +<p>It came out one day in conversation that Dorothy knew the exact locality +of Great St. Goram Mine, knew the young man who had made the discovery, +knew all about the place and all about the people, in fact. The +dowager's interest grew. She began to make inquiries, and finally +decided to rent Hamblyn Manor for a year. Dorothy was in a transport of +excitement. To go back again to the dear old home would be like heaven, +even though her father and Geoffrey were not there.</p> + +<p>But that was not all. She would see Ralph Penlogan again—that would be +inevitable. It seemed as though the Fates had determined to throw them +together. The battle was not ended yet, it was only beginning.</p> + +<p>The second day after their arrival at Hamblyn Manor she went for a long +walk through the plantation. It was a lovely afternoon. The summer glory +lay upon land and sea. She stood still for several moments when she came +to the spot where she had found Ralph Penlogan lying senseless. How +vividly every circumstance came up before her, how well she remembered +his half-conscious talk. She did not see Ralph leaning against the stile +when she pushed open the gate, and yet she half expected he would be +there. It was the place where they first met, and Fate, or Destiny, or +Providence, had a curious way of bringing them together, and she would +have to face the inevitable, whatever it might be.</p> + +<p>She was not in the least surprised when she caught sight of him, nor did +she feel any inclination to turn back. Life was being shaped for her. +She was in the grasp of a power stronger than her own will.</p> + +<p>She looked at him steadily, and her face paled a little. He had altered +considerably. He looked older by several years. He was no longer a +youth, he was a man with the burden of life pressing upon him. Time had +sobered him, softened him, mellowed him, greatened him.</p> + +<p>Ought she to recognise him? For recognition would mean condoning his +daring, and if she condoned him once, he might dare again, and he looked +strong enough and resolute enough to dare anything.</p> + +<p>She never quite decided in her mind what she ought to do. She remembered +distinctly enough what she did. She smiled at him in her most gracious +and winning manner and passed on. She half expected to hear footsteps +behind her, but he did not follow. He watched her till she had turned +the brow of the hill toward St. Goram, then he retraced his steps in the +direction of his home.</p> + +<p>He too had a feeling that it was of no use fighting against Fate. Events +would have to take their course. She was not lost to him yet, and her +smile gave him fresh hope.</p> + +<p>He found the house empty when he got home, save for the housemaid. Ruth +was out with William somewhere.</p> + +<p>Ralph threw himself into an easy-chair and closed his eyes. His heart +was beating strangely fast, his hands shook in spite of himself. The +sight of Dorothy was like a match to stubble. He wondered if her beauty +appealed to other people as it did to him.</p> + +<p>Then a new question suggested itself to him, or an old question came up +in a new form. To tell Dorothy Hamblyn that he loved her was one thing, +to make love to her was another. Should he dare the second? He had dared +the first, not with any hope of winning her, but rather to demonstrate +to himself the folly of any such suggestion. But circumstances alter +cases, and circumstances had changed with him. He was no longer poor. He +could give her all the comforts she had ever known. As for the rest, her +name, her family pride, her patrician blood, her aristocratic +connections, they did not count with him. To ask a woman reared in +comfort and luxury to share poverty and hardship and want was what he +would never do. But the question of ways and means being disposed of, +nothing else mattered. He was a man and an Englishman. He had lived +honestly, and had kept his conscience clean.</p> + +<p>He believed in an aristocracy, as most people do, but the aristocracy he +believed in was the aristocracy of character and brains. He did not +despise money, but he despised the people who made it their god, and who +were prepared to sell their souls for its possession. To have a noble +ancestry was a great thing; there was something in blood, but a man was +not necessarily great because his father was a lord. The lower orders +did not all live in hovels, some of them lived in mansions. All fools +did not wear fustian, some of them wore fur-lined coats and drove +motor-cars; the things that mattered were heart and intellect. A man +might drop his "h's" and be a gentleman. The test of worth and manhood +was not the size of a man's bank balance, but the manner of his life. +Sir John Hamblyn boasted of his pedigree and was proud of his title, and +yet, to put it in its mildest form, he had played the fool for twenty +years.</p> + +<p>Ralph got up from his seat at length and walked out into the garden. He +had not felt so restless and excited for a year. The affairs of Great +St. Goram Mine passed completely out of his mind. He could think only of +one thing at a time, and just then Dorothy Hamblyn seemed of more +importance than anything else on earth.</p> + +<p>Up and down the garden paths he walked with bare head and his hands in +his pockets. Now and then his brows contracted, and now and then his +lips broke into a smile. The situation had its humorous as well as its +serious side.</p> + +<p>"If she had been the daughter of anybody else!" he said to himself again +and again.</p> + +<p>But outweighing everything else was the fact that he loved her. He could +not help it that she was the daughter of the man who had been his +greatest enemy. He could not help it that she belonged to a social +circle that had little or no dealings with his own. Love laughs at bolts +and bars. He was a man with the rights of a man and the hopes of a man.</p> + +<p>Before Ruth returned he had made up his mind what to do.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Dorothy was sauntering slowly homeward in a brown study. She +felt anything but sure of herself. She hoped she had done the right +thing in recognising Ralph Penlogan, but her heart and her head were not +in exact agreement. The conventions of society were very strict. The +Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans.</p> + +<p>"If only Ralph Penlogan had been in her circle," and her heart leaped +suddenly at the thought. How handsome he was, how resolute, how clever! +Unconsciously she compared him with her brother Geoffrey, with Archie +Temple, and with a number of other young men she had met in the +drawing-rooms of London society.</p> + +<p>The duchess had urged her to be friendly with Archie Temple. He was such +a nice young man. He was well connected, was, in fact, the nephew of an +earl, and was in receipt of a handsome salary which a generous +Government paid him for doing nothing. He was a type of a great many +others, impecunious descendants, many of them, of younger +sons—drawling, effeminate, shallow-pated nobodies. Socially, of course, +they belonged to what is called society printed with a capital S, but +that was the highest testimonial that could be given them.</p> + +<p>Dorothy found herself unconsciously revolting against the conventional +view of life and the ethics of the social Ten Commandments. Were the +mere accidents of birth the only things to be considered? Was a man less +noble because he was born in a stable and cradled in a manger? Did +greatness consist in possessing an estate and a title? Was worth to be +measured by the depth of a man's pocket?</p> + +<p>Measured by any true standard, she felt instinctively that Ralph +Penlogan overtopped every other man she had met. How bravely he had +fought, how patiently he had endured, how gloriously he had triumphed. +If achievement counted for anything, if to live purely and do something +worthy were the hall-marks of a gentleman, then he belonged to the +world's true aristocracy, he was worth all the Archie Temples of London +rolled into one.</p> + +<p>Before she reached Hamblyn Manor another question was hammering at her +brain—</p> + +<p>"Did Ralph Penlogan still love her?"</p> + +<p>She looked apprehensively right and left, and was half afraid lest her +thoughts should take shape and reveal themselves to other people.</p> + +<p>What would people think if they knew she had put such a question to +herself? Had she forgotten that she was the daughter of Sir John +Hamblyn?</p> + +<p>No, she had not forgotten; but she was learning the truth that true +worth is not in title, or name, or fortune; that neither coronet nor +crown can make men; that fools clad in sables are fools still, and +rogues in mansions are still rogues.</p> + +<p>The love of a man like Ralph Penlogan was not a thing to resent. It was +something to be proud of and to be grateful for.</p> + +<p>She retired to rest that night with a strange feeling of wonder in her +heart. She was still uncertain of herself.</p> + +<p>"Suppose Ralph Penlogan still loved her, and suppose——" She hid her +face in the bedclothes and blushed in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>He was fearless, she knew, and unconventional, and had no respect for +names, or titles, or pedigrees as such. Moreover, he was not the man to +be discouraged by small obstacles or turned aside by feeble excuses, and +if he chose to cross her path she could not very well avoid him. The +place was comparatively small, the walks were few, and during this +glorious weather she could not dream of remaining indoors.</p> + +<p>She had encouraged him that afternoon by recognising him. She had smiled +at him in her most gracious way; and so, of course, he would know that +she had forgiven him for speaking to her as he had done when last they +met. And if he should seek her out; if, in his impetuous way, he should +tell her he loved her still; if he should ask for an answer, and for an +immediate answer. If—if——</p> + +<p>She was still wondering when she fell asleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> + +<h3>LOVE OR FAREWELL</h3> + + +<p>With Ralph Penlogan, resolution usually meant action. Having made up his +mind to do a thing, he did not loiter long on the way. In any case, he +could only be rebuffed, and he preferred to know the truth at once to +waiting in doubt and uncertainty. A less impetuous nature would have +seen many more lions in the way than he did. For a son of the masses to +woo a daughter of the classes was an unheard-of thing, and had he taken +anyone into his confidence he would have been dissuaded from the +enterprise.</p> + +<p>In this matter, however, he did not wear his heart upon his sleeve. So +carefully had he guarded his secret, that even Ruth was under the +impression that if he had ever been in love with Dorothy Hamblyn, he had +outgrown the infatuation. Her name had not been mentioned for months, +and she had been so long absent from St. Goram that it scarcely seemed +probable that a youthful fancy would survive the long separation.</p> + +<p>Ralph did not tell her that the squire's "little maid" had once more +appeared on the scene. She would hear soon enough from other sources. He +intended to keep his own counsel. If he failed, no one would ever know; +but in any case, failure should not be due to any lack on his part +either of courage or perseverance.</p> + +<p>He was very silent and self-absorbed that evening, and had not Ruth been +so much taken up with her own love affair, she would not have failed to +notice it. But Ruth was living for the moment in a little heaven of her +own—a heaven so beautiful, so full of unspeakable delights, that she +was half afraid sometimes that she would wake up and find it was all a +dream.</p> + +<p>William was growing stronger every day, and expected soon to be as well +as ever. Moreover, he seemed determined to make up for all the years he +had lost. Ruth to him was a daily miracle of grace and beauty, and her +love for him was a perpetual wonder. He did not understand it. He did +not suppose he ever would. He accepted the fact with reverent gratitude, +and gave up attempting to fathom the mystery.</p> + +<p>He was very shy at first, and almost dubious. He felt so unworthy of so +great a gift, but comprehension grew with returning strength, and with +comprehension, courage. He believed himself to be the luckiest man on +earth, and the happiest. The most difficult thing of all to believe was +that Ruth could possibly be as happy as he.</p> + +<p>Conviction on that point came through sight. It was not what Ruth said; +it was the light that glowed in her soft brown eyes. A single glance +meant volumes. A shy glance darted across the room stirred his heart +like music.</p> + +<p>Ralph watched their growing intimacy and their deepening joy with a +sense of keen satisfaction. William was the one man in the world he +would have chosen for his sister if he had been called upon to decide, +and he was thankful beyond measure that Ruth had recognised his sterling +qualities, and, without persuasion from anyone, had made her choice.</p> + +<p>As the days passed away, Ralph had great difficulty in hiding his +restlessness from his sister. It seemed to him that Dorothy purposely +avoided him. He sought her out in all directions; lay in wait for her in +the most likely places; but, for some reason or other, she failed to +come his way. He spent hours leaning against the stile near Treliskey +Plantation, and on three separate occasions defied the notices that +trespassers would be prosecuted, and boldly marched through the +plantation till he came in sight of the gables of the Manor; but neither +patience nor perseverance was rewarded. He had to return disconsolate +the way he had come.</p> + +<p>Had he been of a less sanguine temperament, he would have drawn anything +but hopeful conclusions. Her avoidance of him could surely have but one +meaning, particularly as she knew the state of his feelings towards her.</p> + +<p>But presumptions and deductions did not satisfy Ralph. He would be +content with nothing short of actual facts. He was not sure yet that she +purposely avoided him, and he was sure that she had smiled when they +met, and that one fact was his sheet anchor just now.</p> + +<p>He went to St. Goram Church on the following Sunday morning, much to the +surprise of the vicar, for both he and Ruth were unswervingly loyal to +the little community at Veryan, to which their father and mother +belonged. Deep down in his heart he felt a little ashamed of himself. He +knew it was not to worship that he went to church, but in the hope of +catching a glimpse of Dorothy Hamblyn's face.</p> + +<p>The Hamblyn pew, however, remained empty during the whole of the +service. If he had gone to church from a wrong motive, he had been +deservedly punished.</p> + +<p>He began to think after awhile that Dorothy had paid a flying visit just +for a day, and had gone away again, and that consequently any hope he +ever had of winning her was more remote than ever. This view received +confirmation from the fact that he never heard her name mentioned. Ruth +had evidently not heard that she had been in St. Goram. Apparently she +had come and gone without anyone seeing her but himself—come and gone +like a gleam of sunshine on a stormy day—come and gone leaving him more +disconsolate than he had ever been before.</p> + +<p>For two days he kept close to his work, and never went beyond the bounds +of Great St. Goram Mine. For the moment he had been checkmated, but he +was not in despair. London was only a few hours away, and he had +frequently to go there on business. He should meet her again some time, +and if God meant him to win her he should win.</p> + +<p>It was in this hopeful spirit that he returned late from the mine. Ruth +brewed a fresh pot of tea for him, and put several dainties on the table +to tempt his appetite, for it had recently occurred to her that he was +not looking his best.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Ralph?" she said at length.</p> + +<p>He looked up at her with a questioning light in his eyes, but did not +reply.</p> + +<p>"Dorothy Hamblyn is at the Manor."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," he said, in a tone of apparent indifference. "Who told you +that?"</p> + +<p>"She has been there a fortnight!"</p> + +<p>"A fortnight?"</p> + +<p>"Dr. Barrow told William. He has been attending her."</p> + +<p>"She is ill, then?"</p> + +<p>"She has been. Caught a chill or something of the kind, and was a good +deal run down to start with, but she is nearly all right again now. I +wonder if she will come to see me here as she used to do at the +cottage?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"I hope she will. It would be so nice to see her again. Her father may +be a tyrant, but she is an angel."</p> + +<p>Ralph gave a short, dry laugh.</p> + +<p>"You do not seem very much interested," Ruth continued.</p> + +<p>"Why should I be?" he questioned, looking up with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I thought you used to like her very much."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I did for that matter. But—but that's scarcely to the point, +is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, perhaps it isn't. Only—only——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I sometimes wonder if you will ever do what William has done."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I fell in love with my sister long before he did."</p> + +<p>"Your own sister doesn't count."</p> + +<p>"She does with William—counts too much, I'm afraid. He's no eyes for +anything else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, go along!"</p> + +<p>"Not till I've had my tea. Remember, I'm hungry."</p> + +<p>Then a knock came to the door, and William entered. He was still thin +and pale, but there was a light in his eyes and a glow on his cheeks +such as no one ever saw in the old days.</p> + +<p>On the following afternoon Ralph made his way up the slant again in the +direction of Treliskey Plantation. It was a glorious afternoon. The hot +sunshine was tempered by a cool, Atlantic breeze. The hills and dales +were looking their best, the hedges were full of flowers, the woods and +plantations were great banks of delicious green. At the stile he paused +for several minutes and surveyed the landscape, but his thoughts all the +time were somewhere else. Hope had sprung up afresh in his heart, and a +determined purpose was throbbing through all his veins.</p> + +<p>After awhile he left the stile and passed through the plantation gate. +He was a trespasser, he knew, but that was a matter of little account. +No one would molest him now. He was a man of too much importance in the +neighbourhood. He hardly realised yet what a power he had become, and +how anxious people were to be on good terms with him. In himself he was +conscious of no change. So far, at any rate, money had not spoiled him. +Every Sunday as he passed through the little graveyard at Veryan he was +reminded of the fact that his mother had died in the workhouse. If he +was ever tempted to put on airs—which he was not—that fact would have +kept him humble.</p> + +<p>The true secret of his influence, however, was not that he was +prosperous, but that he was just. There was not a toiler in Great St. +Goram Mine who did not know that. In the past strength had been the +synonym for tyranny. Those who possessed a giant's strength had used it +like a giant. But Ralph had changed the tradition. The strong man was a +just man and a generous, and it was for that reason his influence had +grown with every passing day.</p> + +<p>Yet he was quite unconscious of the measure of his influence. In his own +eyes he was only David Penlogan's son, though that fact meant a great +deal to him. David Penlogan was an honest man—a man who, in a very real +sense, walked with God—and it was Ralph's supreme desire to prove +worthy of his father.</p> + +<p>But it was of none of these things he thought as he walked slowly along +between high banks of trees. The road was grass-grown from end to end, +and was so constructed that the pedestrian appeared to be constantly +turning corners.</p> + +<p>"I think she will walk out to-day," he kept saying to himself. "This +beautiful weather will surely tempt her out."</p> + +<p>He had made up his mind what to do and say in case they did meet. For +good or ill, he was determined to know his fate. It might be an act of +presumption, or a simple act of folly—that was an aspect of the +question that scarcely occurred to him.</p> + +<p>The supreme factor in the case, as far as he was concerned, was, he +loved her. On that point there was no room for doubt. The mere social +aspect of the question he was constitutionally incapable of seeing. A +man was a man, and if he were of good character, and able to maintain +the woman he loved, what mattered anything else?</p> + +<p>He came face to face with Dorothy at a bend in the road. She was walking +slowly, with her eyes on the ground. She did not hear his footsteps on +the grass-grown road, and when she looked up he was close upon her. +There was no time to debate the situation even with herself, so she +followed the impulse of her heart and held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>"I thought I should meet you to-day," he said. "I am sorry you have been +ill."</p> + +<p>"I was rather run down when I came," she answered, glancing at him with +a questioning look, "and I think I caught cold on the journey."</p> + +<p>"But you are better now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I am quite well again."</p> + +<p>"I feared you had returned to London. I have been on the look-out for +you for weeks."</p> + +<p>She looked shyly up into his face, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to know my fate," he went on. "You know that I love you. You +must have guessed it long before I told you."</p> + +<p>"But—but——" she began, with averted eyes.</p> + +<p>"Please hear me out first," he interrupted. "I would not have spoken +again had not circumstances changed. When I saw you in London I was poor +and without hope. I believed that I should have to leave the country in +order to earn a living. To have offered marriage to anyone would have +been an insult. And yet if I had never seen you again I should have +loved you to the end."</p> + +<p>"But have you considered——" she began again, with eyes still turned +from his face.</p> + +<p>"I have considered everything," he interrupted eagerly, almost +passionately. "But there is only one thing that matters, and that is +love. If you do not love me—cannot love me—my dream is at an end, and +I will endure as best I am able. But if your heart responds to my +appeal, then the thing is settled. You are mine."</p> + +<p>"But you are forgetting my—my—position," she stammered.</p> + +<p>"I am forgetting nothing of importance," he went on resolutely. "There +are only two people in the world really concerned in this matter, you +and I, and the decision rests with you. It is not my fault that I love +you. I cannot help it. You did not mean to steal my heart, perhaps, but +you did it. It seems a curious irony of fate, for I detested your +father; but Providence threw me across your path. In strange and +inexplicable ways your life has become linked with mine. You are all the +world to me. Cannot you give me some hope?"</p> + +<p>"But my father still——" she began.</p> + +<p>"You are of age," he interrupted. "No, no! Questions of parentage or +birth or position do not count. Why should they? Let us get back to the +one thing that matters. If you cannot love me, say the word, and I will +go my way and never molest you again. But if you do love me, be it ever +so little, you must give me hope."</p> + +<p>"My father would never consent," she said quickly.</p> + +<p>"That is nothing," he answered, almost impatiently. "I will wait till he +does give his consent. Oh, Dorothy, the only thing I want to know is do +you love me? If you can give me that assurance, nothing else in the +world matters. Just say the little word. God surely meant us for each +other, or I could not love you as I do."</p> + +<p>She dropped her eyes to the ground and remained motionless.</p> + +<p>He came a step nearer and took her hand in his. She did not resist, nor +did she raise her eyes, but he felt that she was trembling from head to +foot.</p> + +<p>"You are not angry with me?" he questioned, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"No, no; I am not angry," she said, almost with a sob. "How could I be? +You are a good man, and such love as yours humbles me."</p> + +<p>"Then you care for me just a little?" he said eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell how much I care," she answered, and the tears came into +her eyes and filled them to the brim. "But what does it matter? It must +all end here and now."</p> + +<p>"Why end, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Because my father would die before he gave me to you. You do not know +him. You do not know how proud he is. Name and lineage are nothing to +you, but they are everything to him."</p> + +<p>"But he would have married you to Lord Probus, a—a bloated brewer!" He +spoke angrily and scornfully.</p> + +<p>"But he had been made a peer."</p> + +<p>"What does that matter if Nature made him a clown?"</p> + +<p>"Which Nature had not done. No, no; give him his due. He was +commonplace, and not very well educated——"</p> + +<p>"And do these empty social distinctions count with you?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"I sometimes hate them," she answered. "But what can I do? There is no +escape. The laws of society are as inflexible as the laws of the Medes +and Persians."</p> + +<p>"And you will fling love away as an offering to the prejudices of your +father?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you tempt me? You must surely see how hard it is!"</p> + +<p>"Then you do love me!" he cried; and he caught her in his arms and +kissed her.</p> + +<p>For a moment she struggled as if to free herself. Then her head dropped +upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ralph," she whispered, "let me love you for one brief minute; then +we must say farewell for ever!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2> + +<h3>THE TABLES TURNED</h3> + + +<p>Three days later Ralph paused for a moment in front of a trim +boarding-house or pension on the outskirts of Boulogne. It was here Sir +John Hamblyn was "vegetating," as he told his friends—practising the +strictest economy, and making a desperate and praiseworthy effort to +recover somewhat his lost financial position.</p> + +<p>Ralph told no one what he intended to do. Ruth supposed that he had gone +no farther than London, and that it was business connected with Great +St. Goram Mine that called him there. Dorothy, having for a moment +capitulated, had been making a brave but futile effort to forget, and +trying to persuade herself that she had done a weak and foolish thing in +admitting to Ralph Penlogan that she cared for him.</p> + +<p>Love and logic, however, were never meant to harmonise, and heart and +head are often in hopeless antagonism. Dorothy pretended to herself that +she was sorry, and yet all the time deep down in her heart there was a +feeling of exultation. It was delightful to be loved, and it was no less +delightful to love in return.</p> + +<p>Almost unconsciously she found herself meditating on Ralph's many +excellences. He was so genuine, so courageous, so unspoiled by the +world. She was sure also that she liked him all the better for being a +man of the people. He owed nothing to favour or patronage. He had fought +his own way and made his own mark. He was not like Archie Temple, who +had been pushed into a situation purely through favour, and who, if +thrown upon the open market, would not earn thirty shillings a week.</p> + +<p>It was an honour and a distinction to be loved by a man like Ralph +Penlogan. He was one of Nature's aristocracy, clear-visioned, +brave-hearted, fearless, indomitable. His handsome face was the index of +his character. How he had developed since that day he refused to open +the gate for her! Suffering had made him strong. Trial and persecution +had called into play the best that was in him. The fearless, defiant +youth had become a strong and resolute man. How could she help loving +him when he offered her all the love of his own great heart?</p> + +<p>Then she would come to herself with a little gasp, and tell herself that +it was her duty to forget him, to tear his image out of her heart; that +an attachment such as hers was hopeless and quixotic; that the sooner +she mastered herself the better it would be; that her father would never +approve, and that the society in which she moved would be aghast.</p> + +<p>For two days she fought a fitful and unequal battle, and then she +discovered that the more she fought the more helpless she seemed to +become. She had kept in the house lest she should discover him straying +in the plantation.</p> + +<p>On the third day she went out again. She said to herself that she would +suffocate if she remained any longer indoors. Her heart was aching for a +sight of Ralph Penlogan's face. She told herself it was fresh air she +was pining for, and a sight of the hills and the distant sea. She +loitered through the plantation until she reached the far end. Then she +sighed and pushed open the gate. She walked as far as the stile, and +leaned against it. How long she remained there she did not know; but she +turned away at length, and strolled out across the common and down into +the high road, and so home by way of the south lodge.</p> + +<p>The air had been fresh and sweet, and the blue of the sea peeped between +the hills in the direction of Perranpool, and the woods and plantations +looked their best in their summer attire, and the birds sang cheerily on +every hand. But she heard nothing, and saw nothing. The footfall she had +listened for all the time failed to come, and the face she was hungering +to see kept out of sight.</p> + +<p>He had evidently taken her at her word. She had told him that their +parting must be for ever, that it would be worse than madness for them +to meet, and she had meant it all at the time; and yet, three days +later, she would have given all she possessed for one more glimpse of +his face.</p> + +<p>The following day her duties were more irksome than she had ever known +them. The dowager wanted so many letters written, and so many articles +read to her. Dorothy was impatient to get out of doors, and the more +rapidly she tried to get through her work the more mistakes she made, +with the result that it had to be done over again.</p> + +<p>It was getting quite late in the afternoon when at length she hurried +away through the plantation. Would he come to meet her? She need not let +him make love to her, but they might at least be friends. Love and logic +were in opposition again.</p> + +<p>She lingered by the stile until the sun went down behind the hill, then, +with a sigh, she turned away, and began to retrace her steps through the +plantation.</p> + +<p>"I ought to be thankful to him for taking me at my word," she said to +herself, with a pathetic look in her eyes. "Oh, why did he ever love me? +Why was I ever born?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Ralph Penlogan and Sir John Hamblyn had come face to face. +Ralph had refused to send up his name, hence, when he was ushered into +the squire's presence, the latter simply stared at him for several +moments in speechless rage and astonishment.</p> + +<p>Ralph was the first to break the silence.</p> + +<p>"I must apologise for this intrusion," he said quietly, "but——"</p> + +<p>"I should think so, indeed," interrupted Sir John scornfully. "Will you +state your business as quickly as possible?"</p> + +<p>"I will certainly occupy no more of your time than I can help," Ralph +replied, "though I fear you are not in the humour to consider any +proposal from me."</p> + +<p>"I should think not, indeed. Why should I be? Do you wish me to tell you +what I think of you?"</p> + +<p>"I am not anxious on that score, though I am not aware that I have given +you any reason for thinking ill of me."</p> + +<p>"You are not, eh? When you cheated me out of the most valuable bit of +property I possessed?"</p> + +<p>"Did we not pay the price you asked?"</p> + +<p>"But you knew there was a valuable tin lode in it."</p> + +<p>"What of that? The property was in the market. We did not induce you to +sell it. We heard by accident that you wanted to dispose of it. If there +had been no lode we should have made no effort to get it."</p> + +<p>"It was a mean, dishonest trick, all the same."</p> + +<p>"I do not see it. By every moral right the farm was more mine than +yours. I helped my father to reclaim it. You spent nothing on it, never +raised your finger to bring it under cultivation. Moreover, it was +common land at the start. In league with a dishonest Parliament, you +filched it from the people, and then, by the operation of an iniquitous +law, you filched it a second time from my father."</p> + +<p>Sir John listened to this speech with blazing eyes and clenched hands.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven," he said, "if I were a younger man I would kick you down +these stairs. Have you forced your way in here to insult me?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, it was my desire rather to conciliate you; but you +charged me with dishonesty at the outset."</p> + +<p>"Conciliate me, indeed!" And Sir John turned away with a sneer upon his +face.</p> + +<p>"We neither of us gain anything by losing our tempers," Ralph said, +after a pause. "Had we not better let bygones be bygones?"</p> + +<p>Sir John faced him again and stared.</p> + +<p>"It is no pleasure to me to rake up the past," Ralph went on. "Probably +we should both be happier if we could forget. I don't deny that I vowed +eternal enmity against you and yours."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear it," Sir John snorted.</p> + +<p>"Time, however, has taken the sting out of many things, and to-day I +love one whom I would have hated."</p> + +<p>"You love——?"</p> + +<p>"It is of no use beating about the bush," Ralph went on. "I love your +daughter, and I have come to ask your permission——"</p> + +<p>He did not finish the sentence, however. With blazing eyes and clenched +fist Sir John shrieked at the top of his voice—</p> + +<p>"Silence! Silence! How dare you? You——"</p> + +<p>"No, do not use hard words," Ralph interrupted. "You may regret it +later."</p> + +<p>"Regret calling you—a—a——" But no suitable or sufficiently +expressive epithet would come to his lips, and he sank into a chair +almost livid with anger and excitement.</p> + +<p>Ralph kept himself well in hand. He had expected a scene, and so was +prepared for it. Seizing his opportunity, he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Had we not better discuss the matter without feeling or passion?" he +said, in quiet, even tones. "Surely I am not making an unreasonable +request. Even you know of nothing against my character."</p> + +<p>"You are a vulgar upstart," Sir John hissed. "Good heavens, +you!—you!—aspiring to the hand of my daughter."</p> + +<p>"I am not an upstart, and I hope I am not vulgar," Ralph replied +quietly. "At any rate, I am an Englishman. You are no more than that. +The accidents of birth count for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"In your heart you know it is so. In what do you excel? Wherein lies +your superiority?"</p> + +<p>For a moment Sir John stared at him; then he said, with intense +bitterness of tone—</p> + +<p>"Will you have the good manners to take yourself out of my sight?"</p> + +<p>"I will do so, certainly, though you have not answered my questions."</p> + +<p>"If I were only a younger man I would answer you in a way you would not +quickly forget."</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse to give your permission?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. I would rather see my child in her coffin."</p> + +<p>"If you loved your child you would think more of her happiness than of +your own pride. I am sorry to find you are a tyrant still."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Have you any further remarks to make?"</p> + +<p>"No!" And he turned away and moved toward the door. Then he turned +suddenly round with his hand on the door knob.</p> + +<p>"By-the-bye, you may be interested to know that I have discovered a very +rich vein that runs through your estate," he said quietly, and he pulled +the door slowly open.</p> + +<p>Sir John was on his feet in a moment.</p> + +<p>"A very rich vein?" he questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinarily rich," was the indifferent reply. "Good-afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment—wait a moment!" Sir John cried excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I have no further remarks to make." And Ralph passed out +to the landing.</p> + +<p>Sir John rushed past him and planted himself at the head of the stairs.</p> + +<p>"You are not fooling me?" he questioned eagerly. "Say honestly, are you +speaking the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Do you wish to insult me?" Ralph asked scornfully. "Am I in the habit +of lying? Please let me pass."</p> + +<p>"No, no! Please forgive me. But if what you say is true, it means so +much to me. You see, I am practically in exile here."</p> + +<p>"So I understand. And you are likely to remain in exile, by all +accounts."</p> + +<p>"But if there is a rich vein of mineral that I can tap. Why, don't you +see, it will release me at once?"</p> + +<p>"But, as it happens, you cannot tap it, for you don't know where it is. +I am the only individual who knows anything about it."</p> + +<p>"Exactly, exactly! Don't go just yet. I want to hear more about it."</p> + +<p>"I fear I have wasted too much of your time already," Ralph said +ironically. "You asked me just now to take myself out of your sight."</p> + +<p>"I know I did. I know I did. But I was very much upset. Besides, this +lode is a horse of quite another colour. Now come back into my room and +tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>"There is really not very much to tell," Ralph answered, in a tone of +indifference. "How I discovered its existence is a mere detail. You may +be aware, perhaps, that I occupy most of my time in making experiments?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. I know you are wonderfully clever in your own particular +line. But tell me, whereabouts is it?"</p> + +<p>"You flatter me too much," Ralph said, with a laugh. "To tell you the +truth, it was largely by accident that I discovered the lode I am +speaking of. Unfortunately, it is outside the Great St. Goram boundary, +so that it is of no use to our shareholders."</p> + +<p>The squire laughed and rubbed his hands.</p> + +<p>"But it will be of use to me," he said. "Really, this is a remarkable +bit of luck. You are quite sure that it is a very valuable discovery?"</p> + +<p>"As sure as one can be of anything in this world. The Hillside lode is +rich, but this——"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Sir John interrupted eagerly. "You don't mean to say that it +is richer than your mine?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be greatly surprised if—if——" Then he paused suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Go on, go on," cried Sir John excitedly. "This bit of news is like new +life to me. Think of it. I shall be able to shake off those Jewish +sharks and hold up my head once more."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it is at all necessary that you should hold your head any +higher," Ralph replied deliberately and meaningly. "You think far too +much of yourself already. Now I will say good-afternoon for the second +time."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you will tell me nothing more?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I? If your justice had been equal to your greed, I might +have been disposed to help you; but I feel no such disposition at +present."</p> + +<p>"You want to bargain with me?" Sir John cried angrily.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no. What I came about is too sacred a matter for bargaining." +And, slipping quickly past Sir John, he hurried down the stairs and into +the street.</p> + +<p>The squire stared after him for several minutes, then went back into the +room and fetched his hat, and was soon following.</p> + +<p>When he got into the open air, however, Ralph was nowhere visible. He +ran a few steps, first in one direction, then in another. Finally, he +made his way down into the town. He did not go to the wharf, for no boat +was sailing for several hours; but he loitered in the principal streets +till he was hungry, and then reluctantly made his way toward his +temporary home. He was in a state of almost feverish excitement, and +hardly knew at times whether he was awake or dreaming.</p> + +<p>What his exile in France meant to him, no one knew but himself. But his +financial affairs were in such a tangle, that it was exile or disgrace, +and his pride turned the scale in favour of exile. Now, suddenly, there +had been opened up before him the prospect of release—but release upon +terms.</p> + +<p>He tried, over his lonely dinner, to review the situation; tried to put +himself in the place of Ralph Penlogan. It was a profitable exercise. +The lack of imagination is often the parent of wrong. He was bound to +admit to himself that Ralph was under no obligation—moral or +otherwise—to reveal his secret, or even to sell his knowledge.</p> + +<p>"No doubt I have behaved badly to him," Sir John said to himself, "and +badly to his father. He has good reason for hating me and thwarting me. +By Jove! but we have changed places. He is the strong man now, and if he +pays me back in my own coin, it is no more than I deserve."</p> + +<p>Sir John did not make a good dinner that evening. His reflections +interfered with his appetite.</p> + +<p>"Should I tell if I were in his place?" he said to himself. And he +answered his own question with a groan.</p> + +<p>Under the influence of a cigar and a cup of black coffee, visions of +prosperity floated before him. He saw himself back again in Hamblyn +Manor, and in more than his old splendour. He saw himself free from the +clutches of the money-lenders, and a better man for the experiences +through which he had passed.</p> + +<p>But his visions were constantly broken in upon by the reflection that +his future lay in the hands of Ralph Penlogan, the young man he had so +cruelly wronged. It was a hard battle he had to fight, for his pride +seemed to pull him in opposite directions at the same time.</p> + +<p>Half an hour before the boat started for Folkestone he was on the wharf, +eagerly scanning the faces of all the passengers. He had made up his +mind to try to persuade Ralph to go back with him and stay the night. +His pride was rapidly breaking down under the pressure of unusual +circumstances.</p> + +<p>He remained till the boat cast off her moorings and the paddle-wheels +began to churn the water in the narrow slip, then he turned away with a +sigh. Ralph was not among the passengers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2> + +<h3>COALS OF FIRE</h3> + + +<p>Ralph returned home by way of Calais and Dover, and on the following day +he came face to face with Dorothy outside the lodge gates. He raised his +hat and would have passed on, but she would not let him.</p> + +<p>"Surely we may be friends?" she said, extending her hand to him, and her +eyes were pleading and pathetic.</p> + +<p>He stopped at once and smiled gravely.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was your wish that we should meet as strangers," he said.</p> + +<p>"Did I say that?" she questioned, and she turned away her eyes from him.</p> + +<p>"Something to that effect," he answered, still smiling, though he felt +as if every reason for smiles had passed from him.</p> + +<p>"I have been expecting to see you for days past," she said, suddenly +raising her eyes to his.</p> + +<p>"I have been from home," he answered. "In fact, I have been to +Boulogne."</p> + +<p>"To Boulogne?" she asked, with a start, and the blood mounted in a +torrent to her neck and face.</p> + +<p>"I went across to see your father," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she questioned, and her face was set and tense.</p> + +<p>"He was obdurate. He said he would rather see you in your coffin."</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence. Then she said—</p> + +<p>"Was he very angry?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say he was. He evidently dislikes me very much—a feeling +which I fear is mutual."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you had the courage to ask him," she said at length.</p> + +<p>"I would dare anything for your sake," he replied, with averted eyes. "I +would defy him if you were willing. And, indeed, I cannot see why he +should be the arbiter of your fate and mine."</p> + +<p>"You must not forget that he is my father," she said quietly and +deliberately.</p> + +<p>"But you defied him in the case of Lord Probus."</p> + +<p>"That was different. To have married Lord Probus would have been a sin. +No, no. The cases are not parallel."</p> + +<p>"Then you are still of the same mind?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"It would not be right," she said, after a long pause, "knowing father +as I do, and knowing how keenly he feels all this."</p> + +<p>"Then it is right to spoil my life, to fling all its future in shadow?"</p> + +<p>"You will forget me," she said, with averted eyes.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," he answered a little bitterly; "time is a great healer, +they say," and he raised his hat again and turned away.</p> + +<p>But her hand was laid on his arm in a moment.</p> + +<p>"Now you are angry with me," she said, her eyes filling. "But don't you +see it is as hard for me as for you? Oh, it is harder, for you are so +much stronger than I."</p> + +<p>"If we are to forget each other," he replied quietly and without looking +at her, "we had better begin at once."</p> + +<p>"But surely we may be friends?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"It is not a question of friendship," he answered, "but of forgetting, +or of trying to forget."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to forget," she said impulsively. "I could not if I +tried. A woman never forgets. I want to remember you, to think of your +courage, your—your——"</p> + +<p>"Folly," he interrupted.</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a startled expression in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is it folly to love?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, out of your own station. If I had loved anyone else but you——"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Don't say that," she interrupted. "God knows best. We are +strengthened and made better by the painful discipline of life."</p> + +<p>He took her outstretched hand and held it for a moment, then raised it +to his lips. So they parted. He could not feel angry or resentful. She +was so sweet, so gentle, so womanly, that she compelled his reverence. +It was better to have loved her and lost, than to have won any other +woman on earth.</p> + +<p>On the following afternoon, on reaching home, Ruth met him at the door +with a puzzled expression in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Who do you think is in the parlour?" she questioned, with a touch of +excitement in her voice.</p> + +<p>"William Menire," he ventured, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Then you are mistaken. William has gone to St. Hilary. But what do you +say to the squire?"</p> + +<p>"Sir John Hamblyn?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"He's been waiting the best part of an hour."</p> + +<p>For a moment he hesitated, then he strode past her into the house.</p> + +<p>Sir John rose and bowed stiffly. Ralph closed the door behind him and +waited for the squire to speak.</p> + +<p>"I went down to the boat, hoping to catch you before you left Boulogne," +Sir John began.</p> + +<p>"I returned by way of Calais," was the quick reply.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that explains. I was curious to have a little further talk with +you. What you said about the lode excited me a great deal."</p> + +<p>"I have little doubt of it."</p> + +<p>"I own I have no claim upon you," Sir John went on, without heeding the +interruption. "Still, keeping the knowledge to yourself can do you no +good."</p> + +<p>"That is quite true."</p> + +<p>"While to me it would be everything."</p> + +<p>"It might be a bad thing. In the past, excuse me for saying it, you have +used your wealth and your influence neither wisely nor well. In fact, +you have prostituted both to selfish and unworthy ends."</p> + +<p>"I have been foolish, I own, and I have had to pay dearly for it. You +think I pressed your father hard, but I was hard pressed myself. If I +hadn't allowed myself to drift into the hands of those villainous Jews I +should have been a better man."</p> + +<p>"But are you not in their hands still?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, up to a certain point I am. At present they are practically +running the estates."</p> + +<p>"And when will you be free?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I hardly know. You see they keep piling up interest in such a way +that it is difficult to discover where I am. But a rich lode would +enable me to clear off everything."</p> + +<p>"I am not sure of that. If during your lifetime they have got a hold on +the estates, how do you know they would not appropriate the lode with +the rest?"</p> + +<p>Sir John looked blank, and for several moments was silent.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said at length, "that I have already paid three times +more in interest than the total amount I borrowed?"</p> + +<p>"I can quite believe that," was the answer. "Would you mind telling me +the amount you did borrow?"</p> + +<p>Sir John named the sum.</p> + +<p>Ralph regarded him in silence for several moments.</p> + +<p>"It is a large sum," he said at length, "a very large sum. And yet, if I +am not greatly mistaken, it is but a trifle in comparison with the value +of the lode I have referred to."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean that?" the squire said eagerly.</p> + +<p>"But it would be folly to make its existence known until you have got +out of the hands of those money-lenders," Ralph went on.</p> + +<p>"They would grab it all, you think?"</p> + +<p>"I fear so. If all one hears about their cunning is true, there is +scarcely any hope for a man who once gets into their clutches. The law +seems powerless. You had better have made yourself a bankrupt right +off."</p> + +<p>"I don't know; the disgrace is so great."</p> + +<p>Ralph curled his lip scornfully.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me you strain at a gnat and swallow a camel," he said.</p> + +<p>"I have been hard pressed," the squire answered dolefully.</p> + +<p>For several seconds neither of them spoke again. Ralph was evidently +fighting a hard battle with himself. It is not easy to be magnanimous +when it is more than probable your magnanimity will be abused. Why +should he be kind to this man? He had received nothing but cruelty at +his hands. Should he turn his cheek to the smiter? Should he restrain +himself when he had the chance of paying off old scores? Was it not +human, after all, to say an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth? Was +not revenge sweet?</p> + +<p>They were facing each other in the very house from which he and his +mother and Ruth had been evicted, the house in which his father had died +of a broken heart. Did not every stone in it cry out for vengeance? This +man had shown them no mercy. In the hour of their greatest need he had +been more cruel than any fabled Shylock. He had insisted upon his pound +of flesh, though it meant beggary to them all. He had pursued them with +a vindictiveness that was almost without a parallel. And now that the +tables had been turned, and the tyrant, bereft of his power, was +pleading for mercy, was he to kiss the hand that before had struck him?</p> + +<p>Moreover, what guarantee was there that if this man were restored to his +old position he would be any better than he was before? Was not his +heart what it had always been? Was he not a tyrant by nature?</p> + +<p>Sir John watched the look of perplexity gather and deepen on Ralph's +face, and guessed the struggle that was going on within him. He felt +very humble, and more penitent than Ralph knew.</p> + +<p>The younger man lifted his head at length, and his brow cleared.</p> + +<p>"I have been strongly tempted," he said slowly, "to mete out to you what +you have measured to us."</p> + +<p>"I have no claim to be considered," Sir John said humbly.</p> + +<p>"You have thwarted me, or tried to thwart me, at every stage of my +life," Ralph went on.</p> + +<p>"I know I have been no friend to you," was the feeble reply.</p> + +<p>"And if I help you back to power, I have no guarantee that you will not +use that power to thwart me again."</p> + +<p>The squire let his eyes fall to the ground, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>"However, to play the part of the dog in the manger," Ralph went on, "is +not a very manly thing to do, so I have decided to tell you all I know."</p> + +<p>"You will reveal the lode to me?" he questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It will be good for the neighbourhood and the county in any case."</p> + +<p>The squire sat down suddenly, and furtively wiped his eyes.</p> + +<p>"But the money-lenders will have to be squared first. Will you allow me +to tackle them for you? I should enjoy the bull-baiting."</p> + +<p>"You mean——"</p> + +<p>"I mean that in any case they must not be allowed to get the lode into +their hands."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how it is to be avoided."</p> + +<p>"Will you leave the matter to me and William Menire?"</p> + +<p>"You mean you will help me?"</p> + +<p>"We shall be helping the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>Sir John struggled hard to keep the tears back, but failed.</p> + +<p>"And you impose no condition?" he sobbed at length.</p> + +<p>"No, I impose no condition. If the thing is to be done, let it be done +freely."</p> + +<p>"You unman me altogether," the squire said, with brimming eyes. "I did +not expect, I really didn't. I have no claim, and I've been beastly hard +on you. I know I have, and I'm sorry, real sorry, mind you; and +if—if——"</p> + +<p>"We'll let the 'ifs' go for the present, if you don't mind," Ralph said, +with a dry laugh. "There are a good many present difficulties to be met. +I should like to see your agreement with the money-lenders."</p> + +<p>"You shall see everything. If you can only get me out of this hole you +will make me the most thankful man alive!"</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled dubiously.</p> + +<p>"When can I see the papers?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"To-day if you like. They are at the Manor."</p> + +<p>"Very good. I will walk across after tea, or will you fetch them here?"</p> + +<p>"If it would not be troubling you to walk so far——"</p> + +<p>"I will come with pleasure."</p> + +<p>The squire felt very chastened and humble as he made his way slowly back +to the Manor, through Treliskey Plantation. Magnanimity is rarely lost +on anyone, kindness will melt the hardest heart. The squire's pride was +being slowly undermined, his arrogance seemed almost a contemptible +thing.</p> + +<p>By contrast with Ralph's nobler character he began to see how mean and +poor was his own. He had prided himself so much on his name and +pedigree, and yet he was only beginning to see how unworthy he had +proved of both. What, after all, was the mere accident of birth in +comparison with moral greatness? Measured by any right standard, Ralph +Penlogan was an infinitely better man than he. He had not only +intellect, but heart. He possessed that true nobility which enabled a +man to forgive his enemy. He was turning in a very literal sense his +cheek to the smiter.</p> + +<p>Sir John entered the house with a curious feeling of diffidence. His +home, and yet not his. The dowager made him welcome, and placed the +library and a bedroom above at his disposal for as long as he might care +to stay.</p> + +<p>Dorothy was delighted to have her father with her again, and yet she was +strangely puzzled as to the object of his visit. She was puzzled still +more when a little later Ralph Penlogan was shown into the room where +she and her father sat.</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet in a moment, while a hot blush swept over her neck +and face. For a second or two she stood irresolute, and glanced hastily +from one to the other. What was the meaning of it all? Her father, +instead of glaring angrily at his visitor, received him with the +greatest cordiality and even deference, while Ralph advanced with no +sign of fear or hesitation.</p> + +<p>Neither of them appeared for the moment to be conscious of her presence. +Ralph did not even look towards her.</p> + +<p>Then her father said in a low voice—</p> + +<p>"You can leave us for a little while, Dorothy."</p> + +<p>She hurried out of the room with flaming cheeks and fast-beating heart. +What could her father want with Ralph Penlogan? What was the mystery +underlying his hurried visit? Could it have any reference to herself? +Had her father relented? Had he at last come to see that character was +more than social position—that a man was great not by virtue of birth, +but by virtue of achievement?</p> + +<p>For the best part of an hour she sat in her own room waiting and +listening. Then the dowager summoned her to read an article to her out +of the <i>Spectator</i>.</p> + +<p>It grew dark at last, and Dorothy sought her own room once more, but she +was so restless she could not sit still. The very air seemed heavy with +fate. Her father and Ralph were still closeted in the library. What +could they have to say to each other that kept them so long?</p> + +<p>When the lamps were lighted she stole out of her room and waited for a +few moments on the landing. Then she ran lightly down the stairs into +the hall. The library door was still closed, but a moment later it was +pulled slightly open. She drew back into a recess and pulled a curtain +in front of her, though why she did so she hardly knew.</p> + +<p>She could hear distinctly a murmur of voices, then came a merry peal of +laughter. She had not heard her father laugh so merrily for years.</p> + +<p>Then the two men walked out into the hall side by side, and began to +converse in subdued tones. She could see them very distinctly. How +handsome Ralph looked in the light of the lamp.</p> + +<p>The squire went with his visitor to the front door, and opened it. She +caught Ralph's parting words, "I will see to the matter without delay. +Good-night!"</p> + +<p>When the squire returned from the door he saw Dorothy standing under the +lamp with a look of inquiry in her eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> + +<h3>SIR JOHN ATONES</h3> + + +<p>Dorothy did not see Ralph again for nearly a month, and the hope that +had animated her for a brief period threatened to go out in darkness. +Her father, much to her surprise, remained at the Manor, he and the +dowager having come to terms that appeared to be mutually satisfactory. +But for what purpose he had returned to St. Goram, and why he remained, +she did not know, and more puzzling still was why he had held that long +and friendly interview with Ralph Penlogan.</p> + +<p>More than once she had tried to get at the truth. But her father was +completely on his guard against every chance question. He had never been +in the habit of taking Dorothy into his confidence in business matters. +He was of opinion that the less girls knew about matters outside the +domestic realm the better. Moreover, until he was safely out of the +clutches of the money-lenders, it would not be safe to take anyone into +his confidence. So to Dorothy, at any rate, he remained a mystery from +day to day, and the longer he remained, the deeper the mystery seemed to +grow.</p> + +<p>There was, however, one compensation. He was more cheerful and more +affectionate than he had ever been since her refusal to marry Lord +Probus. What that might mean she was unable to guess. There appeared to +be no particular reason for his cheerfulness. For the moment he was +living on charity, for of course he could not dream of paying the +dowager for his board and lodgings. He did not appear to be engaged on +any gambling adventure or business enterprise. No one came to see him. +He went nowhere, except for an occasional long walk after dark, and he +scarcely ever received a letter.</p> + +<p>One evening he was absent several hours, and did not return till after +midnight. Dorothy waited up for him, and had begun to be greatly +concerned at his non-arrival. She was standing at the open door +listening when she caught the sound of his footsteps, and she ran a +little way down the drive to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, wherever have you been?" she cried out anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Why, little girl, why are you not in bed?" he answered, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Because I waited up for you, and I expected you an hour ago. I have +been terribly anxious."</p> + +<p>"Nobody is likely to run away with me," he said, bending over and +kissing her.</p> + +<p>"But it is so late for you to be out alone. If there was anyone you have +been in the habit of visiting, I should not have worried, but I feared +you had been taken ill, or had met with an accident."</p> + +<p>"I did not know you cared for your old father so much," he said, with a +note of tenderness in his voice that was new to her.</p> + +<p>"But I do care," she answered impulsively, "and care lots and lots more +than I can tell you."</p> + +<p>He kissed her again, and then taking her arm, he led her into the house. +Bolting the front door, he followed her into the library.</p> + +<p>She was standing against the fireplace when he entered, and she noticed +that his eyes were unusually bright.</p> + +<p>"I have been to Hillside Farm," he said, and a broad smile spread itself +over his face.</p> + +<p>"To Hillside Farm?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Young Penlogan has had some business affairs of mine in hand, and +to-night we have settled it."</p> + +<p>She stared at him with a look of wonder in her eyes, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>"It's been a ticklish task, and, of course, I have said nothing about +it. But I've been in high hopes ever since I came back. Penlogan is +really a remarkable fellow."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she questioned, wondering more than ever.</p> + +<p>"It's a curious turn of the tables," he went on; "but he's behaved +splendidly, and there's no denying it. He might have heaped coals of +fire on my head at every point. He might—but—well, after one straight +talk—not another word. He's behaved like a gentleman—perhaps I ought +to say like a Christian. No conditions! Not a condition. No. Having made +up his mind to do the straight thing, he's carried it through. It's been +coals of fire, all the same. I've never felt so humbled in my life +before. I could wish—but there, it's too late to wish now. He's spared +me all he could. I'm bound to say that for him, and he's carried it +through——"</p> + +<p>"Carried what through, father?"</p> + +<p>He started, and smiled, for his thoughts had evidently gone wandering to +some distant place.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's too long a story to tell you to-night."</p> + +<p>"No, no, father. I'm quite wide awake. And, indeed, I shall not sleep +for the night, unless you tell me."</p> + +<p>"I'm wide awake myself," he said, with a laugh. "By Jove! I feel as if I +could dance. You can't imagine what a relief it is to me. Life will be +worth living again."</p> + +<p>"But what is it all about, father?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that clever dog, Penlogan, discovered a rich vein of ore in my +ground, and he's given me all the benefit of the discovery. I've been +hard up for a long time, as you know; been in the hands of sharks, in +fact. I feel ashamed to tell you this, though I expect you have guessed. +Well, thanks to Penlogan, I've shaken them off, got quite free of them. +Now I'm free to go ahead."</p> + +<p>"And has Ralph Penlogan done all this for nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. He wanted you when he came to see me at Boulogne, but I +told him I'd see you buried first. Good heavens! I could have wrung his +neck."</p> + +<p>She smiled pathetically, but made no answer.</p> + +<p>"He's a greater man than I knew," Sir John went on, after a pause. "He +was strongly tempted to be even with me—he told me so—but the finer +side of him conquered. Good heavens! if only Geoffrey were such a man, +how proud I should be."</p> + +<p>"Geoffrey has been trained in a different school."</p> + +<p>"There may be something in that. Some natures expand under hard knocks, +are toughened by battle and strife, greatened by suffering, and +sweetened by sorrow."</p> + +<p>She looked up into his face with a wondering smile.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my Dorothy," he said, with a world of tenderness in his tones, "I +have learned a great deal during the last few weeks. In the past I've +been a fool, and worse. I've measured people by their social position. +I've set value on filigree and embroidery. I've been proud of pedigree +and name, and I've tried to put my heel upon people who were my +superiors in every way. Good heavens! what vain fools we are in the +main. We value the pinchbeck setting and kick the diamond into the +gutter."</p> + +<p>"Then you have finished with Mr. Penlogan now?" she questioned, after a +long pause.</p> + +<p>"Finished with him? Why so? I hope not, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"But you have got all you want out of him."</p> + +<p>"I never said so. No, no. We shall have to form a company to work the +new lode, and he will be invaluable."</p> + +<p>"And he will get nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that he wants anything. He has plenty as it is."</p> + +<p>She made no reply, and for a moment or two they looked at each other in +silence. Then Sir John said, with a chuckle—</p> + +<p>"A penny for your thoughts, Dorothy!"</p> + +<p>"A penny for yours, father."</p> + +<p>"Do you really care very much for the fellow?"</p> + +<p>"For the fellow?"</p> + +<p>"I mean for Penlogan, of course. Mind you, I'm not surprised if you do. +He's the kind of fellow any girl might fall in love with, and, to be +quite candid, I shouldn't object to him for a son-in-law."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father!" and she ran to him and threw her arms about his neck.</p> + +<p>"Then you do care for him, little girl?"</p> + +<p>But the only answer he got was a hug and a kiss.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very good," he went on. "I'll let him know to-morrow morning that +he may come along here and see you if he likes. I don't expect he will +lose very much time. What! crying, little girl? Come, come, you mustn't +cry. Crying spoils the eyes. Besides, it is time we were both in bed."</p> + +<p>She kissed him more than once, and then ran hurriedly out of the room.</p> + +<p>On the following afternoon she went for a walk through the plantation +alone.</p> + +<p>"He will come this way," she said to herself. "He will be sure to come +this way. He knows it is my favourite walk."</p> + +<p>She walked slowly, but with every sense alert. She knew that her father +had been to see Ralph, and, of course, he would be impatient to see her. +If he were half as impatient as she was he would be on his way now.</p> + +<p>She espied him at length a long way down the road, and she drew back a +little in the shadow of the trees and waited. Her heart was beating very +fast, and happy tears kept welling up into her eyes.</p> + +<p>She was looking away from him when at length he came upon her.</p> + +<p>"Dorothy!" he said, in a voice that thrilled her like a strain of music.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ralph," and she turned her perfect face full upon him.</p> + +<p>"Your father said I might come."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," and she placed both her hands in his.</p> + +<p>"I have waited long for this day," he said.</p> + +<p>"We are the happier for the waiting."</p> + +<p>"You are satisfied?"</p> + +<p>"I am very happy, Ralph."</p> + +<p>He gathered her to himself slowly and tenderly, and kissed her. There +was no need for many words just then. Silence was more eloquent than +speech.</p> + +<p>That evening the dowager came to the conclusion that she would have to +look out for a new companion and secretary.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Mr_Silas_K_Hockings" id="Mr_Silas_K_Hockings"></a>Mr. Silas K. Hocking's</h2> + +<h3>THE FLAMING SWORD.</h3> + +<p><i>SOME PRESS OPINIONS</i></p> + +<blockquote><p>"This is told in Mr. Hocking's usual bright and sprightly +manner. When over a million copies of a man's books have been +sold, all his readers want to know is if the book under review +presents the characteristics of the author, and is worthy of +his reputation; both of which questions can be answered in the +affirmative."—<i>Queen.</i></p> + +<p>"The novel is remarkable, because of its intensely human +interest, of the intricacy of the plot, and of the freshness +and vigour with which it is developed. The tale is wound up in +the happiest possible manner. Mr. Hocking has produced a +finished piece of literary workmanship—a novel that will be +widely read and enjoyed."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p> + +<p>"In 'The Flaming Sword' he is at his best, and the book will +gratify his multitudinous admirers."—<i>Sheffield Daily +Telegraph.</i></p> + +<p>"An admirable story—supremely interesting. The whole story is +brimful of surprises and complications, woven together with +great ingenuity. The plot is wonderfully good, and grips the +reader from start to finish."—<i>Aberdeen Free Press.</i></p> + +<p>"It will be strange indeed if 'The Flaming Sword' does not +become one of the most popular products of Mr. Silas Hocking's +pen."—<i>Christian Commonwealth.</i></p> + +<p>"It immediately lays hold of one, and the grip is maintained +throughout."—<i>Dundee Advertiser.</i></p> + +<p>"An exciting and intensely interesting story."—<i>Canadian +Bookseller.</i></p> + +<p>"A novel which is sure to have multitudes of readers and to be +enthusiastically received."—<i>Free Methodist.</i></p> + +<p>"A volume that will keep up the reputation of the author, since +it is written in his best vein."—<i>Irish Times.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. S. K. Hocking has a big circle of admirers, which is +likely to be considerably widened by his latest novel, 'The +Flaming Sword.' The story grips one from the +opening."—<i>Lloyd's News.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<h3>PIONEERS.</h3> + + +<p><i>SOME PRESS OPINIONS</i></p> + +<blockquote><p>"Mr. Hocking has written many admirable stories, but none, one +may venture to say, so effective as this. He has presented his +characters with convincing fidelity to human nature.... The +reader will follow their careers with interest, and in especial +that of the heroine, who is a pronounced and most attractive +individuality. In a word, the novel is a notable +success."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Hocking has seldom drawn two more notable and more lovable +characters. The novel teems with stirring adventure and has the +prettiest love story, with the happiest of endings."—<i>Evening +News.</i></p> + +<p>"Is a story of sustained power—power controlled by a practised +hand which quickly grips the interest of the reader and holds +it undiminished to the end."—<i>Birmingham Post.</i></p> + +<p>"Conceived and executed in the author's most vigorous style, we +are carried breathlessly forward from the first page to the +last; almost every chapter contains some hair-breadth 'scape. +It is all very exciting and picturesque."—<i>Westminster +Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>"It is a skilful and well-knit story, full of exciting +episodes. It arouses human sympathy, and sustains a good level +of interest. It is probably one of the best of Mr. Silas +Hocking's recent books."—<i>Sheffield Independent.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Hocking's latest novel is intensely interesting and +exciting. The scene is laid in Russia, and the plot embraces +the struggles and adventures of two soldiers who have deserted +from the Russian army. They are arrested and taken to Siberia, +and their privations and struggles for freedom are depicted +with a master hand. The character of the heroine is one which +will draw the sympathy of all, and the story one which should +appeal to a large circle of readers."—<i>Canadian Bookseller.</i></p> + +<p>"There is a vivid realism in the story. The exciting adventures +of the heroine, etc., form a chapter of incidents which keep +the reader chained to the book till the last page is turned. +The story is one of the best, if not the best that Mr. Hocking +has written."—<i>Daily News.</i></p></blockquote> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Squire's Daughter, by Silas K(itto) Hocking + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER *** + +***** This file should be named 36384-h.htm or 36384-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/3/8/36384/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://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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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 Squire's Daughter + +Author: Silas K(itto) Hocking + +Release Date: June 11, 2011 [EBook #36384] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER + + BY SILAS K. HOCKING + +AUTHOR OF "PIONEERS" "THE FLAMING SWORD" "THE WIZARD'S LIGHT" "THE +SCARLET CLUE" ETC. + + + _WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS_ + BY ARTHUR TWIDLE + + Fourth Edition + + LONDON + FREDERICK WARNE & CO. + AND NEW YORK + 1906 + + (_All Rights Reserved_) + + + + +[Illustration: "IF YOU CAN ONLY BRING YOURSELF TO SAY YES, I WILL DO MY +BEST TO MAKE YOU THE HAPPIEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD."] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. AN IMPERIOUS MAIDEN + +II. APPREHENSIONS + +III. A NEW SENSATION + +IV. A BITTER INTERVIEW + +V. THE CHANCES OF LIFE + +VI. WAITING FOR THE BLOW TO FALL + +VII. DAVID SPEAKS HIS MIND + +VIII. CONFLICTING EMOTIONS + +IX. PREPARING TO GO + +X. RALPH SPEAKS HIS MIND + +XI. UNCONSCIOUS SPEECH + +XII. DOROTHY SPEAKS HER MIND + +XIII. GATHERING CLOUDS + +XIV. THE STORM BURSTS + +XV. SIR JOHN GETS ANGRY + +XVI. THE BIG HOUSE + +XVII. DEVELOPMENTS + +XVIII. A CONFESSION + +XIX. A SILENT WELCOME + +XX. WILLIAM MENIRE'S RED-LETTER DAY + +XXI. A GOOD NAME + +XXII. A FRESH START + +XXIII. THE ROAD TO FORTUNE + +XXIV. LAW AND LIFE + +XXV. IN LONDON TOWN + +XXVI. TRUTH WILL OUT + +XXVII. HOME AGAIN + +XXVIII. A TRYING POSITION + +XXIX. A QUESTION OF MOTIVES + +XXX. SELF AND ANOTHER + +XXXI. A PARTNERSHIP + +XXXII. FOOD FOR REFLECTION + +XXXIII. A PROPOSAL + +XXXIV. A FRESH PAGE + +XXXV. FAILURE OR FORTUNE + +XXXVI. THE PENALTY OF PROSPERITY + +XXXVII. LIGHT AND SHADOW + +XXXVIII. LOVE AND LIFE + +XXXIX. PERPLEXING QUESTIONS + +XL. LOVE OR FAREWELL + +XLI. THE TABLES TURNED + +XLII. COALS OF FIRE + +XLIII. SIR JOHN ATONES + + + + +List of Illustrations + + +"IF YOU CAN ONLY BRING YOURSELF TO SAY YES, I WILL DO MY BEST TO MAKE +YOU THE HAPPIEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD." + +"SIR JOHN RAISED HIS HUNTING-CROP, AND STRUCK AT RALPH WITH ALL HIS +MIGHT." + +"RUTH THREW HER ARMS ABOUT HER MOTHER'S NECK AND BURST INTO A PASSION OF +TEARS." + +"WILLIAM, BREATHLESS AND EXCITED, BURST IN UPON HIM." + + + + +THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN IMPERIOUS MAIDEN + + +The voice was soft and musical, but the tone was imperative. + +"I say, young man, open that gate." + +The young man addressed turned slowly from the stile on which he had +been leaning, and regarded the speaker attentively. She was seated on a +high-stepping horse with that easy grace born of long familiarity with +the saddle, and yet she seemed a mere girl, with soft round cheeks and +laughing blue eyes. + +"Come, wake up," she said, in tones more imperious than before, "and +open the gate at once." + +He resented the tone, though he was charmed with the picture, and +instead of going toward the gate to do her bidding he turned and began +to climb slowly over the stile. + +She trotted her horse up to him in a moment, her eyes flashing, her +cheeks aflame. She had been so used to command and to prompt obedience +that this insubordination on the part of a country yokel seemed nothing +less than an insult. + +"You dare disobey me?" she said, her voice thrilling with anger. + +"Of course I dare," he answered, without turning his head. "I am not +your servant." + +The reply seemed to strike her dumb for a moment, and she reined back +her horse several paces. + +He turned again to look at her, then deliberately seated himself on one +of the posts of the stile. + +There was no denying that she made a pretty picture. With one foot on +the top rung of the stile he was almost on a level with her, and he was +near enough to see her bosom heave and the colour come and go upon her +rounded cheeks. + +His heart began to beat uncomfortably fast. He feared that he had played +a churlish part. She looked so regal, and yet so sweet, that it seemed +almost as if Nature had given her the right to command. And who was he +that he should resent her imperious manner and refuse to do her bidding? + +He had gone too far, however, to retreat. Moreover, his dignity had been +touched. She had flung her command at him as though he were a serf. Had +she asked him to open the gate, he would have done so gladly. It was the +imperious tone that he resented. + +"I did not expect such rudeness and incivility here of all places," she +said at length in milder tones. + +His cheeks flamed at that, and an angry feeling stole into his heart. +Judged by ordinary standards, he had no doubt been rude, and her words +stung him all the more on that account. He would have played a more +dignified part if he had pocketed the affront and opened the gate; but +he was in no mood to go back on what he had done. + +"If I have been rude and uncivil, you are to blame as much as I--and +more," he retorted angrily. + +"Indeed?" she said, in a tone of lofty disdain, and an amused smile +played round the corners of her mouth. She was interested in the young +man in spite of his incivility. Now that she had an opportunity of +looking more closely at him, she could not deny that he had no common +face, while his speech was quite correct, and not lacking in dignity. + +"I hope I am not so churlish as not to be willing to do a kindness to +anybody," he went on rapidly, "but I resent being treated as dirt by +such as you." + +"Indeed? I was not aware----" she began, but he interrupted her. + +"If you had asked me to open the gate I would have done so gladly, and +been proud to do it," he went on; "but because I belong to what you are +pleased to call the lower orders, you cannot ask; you command, and you +expect to be obeyed." + +"Of course I expect to be obeyed," she said, arching her eyebrows and +smiling brightly, "and I am surprised that you----" + +"No doubt you are," he interrupted angrily. "But if we are lacking in +good manners, so are you," and he turned and leaped off the stile into +the field. + +"Come back, you foolish young man." + +But if he heard, he did not heed; with his eyes fixed on a distant +farmhouse, he stalked steadily on, never turning his head either to the +right or the left. + +For a moment or two she looked after him, an amused smile dimpling her +cheeks; then she turned her attention to the gate. + +"I wonder what I am to do now?" she mused. "I cannot unfasten it, and if +I get off, I shall never be able to mount again; on the other hand, I +hate going back through the village the way I came. I wonder if Jess +will take it?" and she rode the mare up to the gate and let her smell at +the rungs. + +It was an ordinary five-barred gate, and the ground was soft and +springy. The road was scarcely more than a track across a heathery +common. Beyond the gate the road was strictly private, and led through a +wide sweep of plantation, and terminated at length, after a circuit of a +mile or two, somewhere near Hamblyn Manor. + +Jess seemed to understand what was passing through her mistress's mind, +and shook her head emphatically. + +"You can do it, Jess," she said, wheeling the mare about, and trotting +back a considerable distance. "I know you can," and she struck her +across the flank with her riding crop. + +Jess pricked up her ears and began to gallop toward the gate; but she +halted suddenly when within a few feet of it, almost dislodging her +rider. + +The young lady, however, was not to be defeated. A second time she rode +back, and then faced the gate once more. + +Jess pricked up her ears, and shook her head as if demanding a loose +rein, and then sprang forward with the swiftness of a panther. But she +took the gate a moment too soon; there was a sharp crash of splintered +wood, a half-smothered cry of pain, and horse and rider were rolling on +the turf beyond. + +Ralph Penlogan caught his breath and turned his head suddenly. The sound +of breaking wood fell distinctly on his ear, and called him back from +his not over-pleasant musings. He was angry with himself, angry with the +cause of his anger. He had stood up for what he believed to be his +rights, had asserted his opinions with courage and pertinacity; and yet, +for some reason, he was anything but satisfied. The victory he had +won--if it was a victory at all--was a barren one. He was afraid that he +had asserted himself at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and before +the wrong person. + +The girl to whom he had spoken, and whose command he had defied, was not +responsible for the social order against which he chafed, and which +pressed so hardly on the class to which he belonged. She was where +Providence had placed her just as much as he was, and the tone of +command she had assumed was perhaps more a matter of habit than any +assumption of superiority. + +So within three minutes of leaving the stile he found himself excusing +the fair creature to whom he had spoken so roughly. That she had a sweet +and winning face there was no denying, while the way she sat her horse +seemed to him the embodiment of grace. + +Who she was he had not the remotest idea. To the best of his +recollection he had never seen her before. That she belonged to what was +locally termed the gentry there could be no doubt--a visitor most likely +at one or other of the big houses in the neighbourhood. + +Once the thought flashed across his mind that she might be the daughter +of Sir John Hamblyn, but he dismissed it at once. In the first place, +Sir John's daughter was old enough to be married--in fact, the wedding +day had already been fixed--while this young lady was a mere girl. She +did not look more than seventeen if she looked a day. And in the second +place, it was inconceivable that such a mean, grasping, tyrannical +curmudgeon as Sir John could be the father of so fair a child. + +He had seen Dorothy Hamblyn when she was a little girl in short frocks, +and his recollection of her was that she was a disagreeable child. If he +remembered aright, she was about his own age--a trifle younger. + +"Why, I have turned twenty," he mused. "I am a man. She's only a girl." + +So he dismissed the idea that she was Sir John's daughter who returned +from school only about six months ago, and who was going to marry Lord +Probus forthwith. + +Suddenly he was recalled from his musings by the crash of the breaking +gate. Was that a cry also he heard? He was not quite sure. A dozen vague +fears shot through his mind in a moment. For a second only he hesitated, +then he turned swiftly on his heel and ran back the way he had come. + +The field was a wide one, wider than he had ever realised before. He was +out of breath by the time he reached the stile, while his fears had +increased with every step he took. + +He leaped over the stile at a bound, and then stood still. Before him +was the broken gate, and beyond it---- + +For a moment a mist swam before his eyes, and the ground seemed to be +slipping away from beneath his feet. Vague questions respecting his +responsibility crowded in upon his brain; the harvest of his +churlishness had ripened with incredible swiftness. The word "guilty" +seemed to stare at him from every point of the compass. + +With a strong effort he pulled himself together, and advanced toward the +prostrate figure. The horse stood a few paces away, trembling and +bleeding from the knees. + +He was almost afraid to look at the girl's face, and when he did so he +gave a loud groan. There was no movement, nor any sign of life. The eyes +were closed, the cheeks ghastly pale, while from underneath the soft +brown hair there ran a little stream of blood. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +APPREHENSIONS + + +Sir John Hamblyn was walking up and down in front of his house, fuming, +as usual, and with a look upon his face that betokened acute anxiety. +Why he should be so anxious he hardly knew. There seemed to be no +special reason for it. Everything appeared to be moving along +satisfactorily, and unless the absolutely unexpected happened, there was +no occasion for a moment's worry. + +But it was just the off-chance of something happening that irritated +him. The old saying, "There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip," kept +flitting across his brain with annoying frequency. If he could only get +another month over without accident of any kind he would have peace; at +least, so he believed. + +Lord Probus was not the man to go back on his word, and Lord +Probus had promised to stand by him, provided he became his--Sir +John's--son-in-law. + +It seemed a little ridiculous, for Lord Probus was the older man of the +two, and to call a man his son-in-law who was older than himself was not +quite in harmony with the usual order of things. But then, what did it +matter? There were exceptions to every rule, and such exceptions were of +constant occurrence. + +When once the marriage knot was tied, a host of worries that had +harassed him of late would come to an end. He had been foolish, no +doubt. He ought to have lived within his income, and kept out of the way +of the sharks of the Turf and the Stock Exchange. He had a handsome +rent-roll, quite sufficient for his legitimate wants; and if things +improved, he might be able to raise rents all round. Besides, if he had +luck, some of the leases might fall in, which would further increase his +income. But the off-chance of these things was too remote to meet his +present needs. He wanted immediate help, and Lord Probus was his only +hope. + +Fortunately for him, Dorothy was not old enough to see the tragedy of +such an alliance. She saw only the social side--the gilt and glitter and +tinsel. The appeal had been made to her vanity and to her love of pretty +and costly things. To be the mistress of Rostrevor Castle, to bear a +title, to have a London house, to have any number of horses and +carriages, to go to State functions, to be a society dame before she was +twenty--all these things appealed to her girlish pride and vanity, and +she accepted the offer of Lord Probus with alacrity, and with scarcely a +moment's serious thought. + +No time was lost in hurrying forward arrangements for the wedding. The +sooner the contract was made secure the better. Any unnecessary delay +might give her an excuse for changing her mind. Sir John felt that he +would not breathe freely again until the wedding had taken place. + +Now and then, when he looked at his bright-eyed, happy, imperious girl, +his heart smote him. She had turned eighteen, but she was wonderfully +girlish for her years, not only in appearance but in manner, and in her +outlook upon life. She knew nothing as yet of the ways of the world, +nothing of its treachery and selfishness. She had only just escaped from +the seclusion of school and the drudgery of the classroom. She felt free +as a bird, and the outlook was just delightful. She was going to have +everything that heart could desire, and nothing would be too expensive +for her to buy. + +She was almost as eager for the wedding to take place as was her father; +for directly the wedding was over she was going out to see the +world--France, Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Egypt. They were going to +travel everywhere, and travel in such luxury as even Royalty might envy. +Lord Probus had already given her a foretaste of what he would do for +her by presenting her with a beautiful mare. Jess was the earnest of +better things to come. + +If Dorothy became imperious and slightly dictatorial, it was not to be +wondered at. Nothing was left undone or unsaid that would appeal to her +vanity. She was allowed her own way in everything. + +Sir John was desperately afraid that the illusions might fade before the +wedding day arrived. Financially he was in the tightest corner he had +ever known, and unless he could tap some of Lord Probus's boundless +wealth, he saw before him long years of mean economies and humiliating +struggles with poverty. He saw worse--he saw the sale of his personal +effects to meet the demands of his creditors, he saw the lopping off of +all the luxuries that were as the breath of life to him. + +Hence, though deep down in his heart he loathed the thought of his +little girl marrying a man almost old enough to be her grandfather, he +was sufficiently cornered in other ways to be intensely anxious that the +wedding should take place. Lord Probus was the head of a large brewery +and distilling concern. His immense and yearly increasing revenues came +mainly from beer. How rich he was nobody knew. He hardly knew himself. +He had as good as promised Sir John that if the wedding came off he +would hand over to him sufficient scrip in the great company of which he +was head to qualify him--Sir John--for a directorship. The scrip could +be paid for at Sir John's convenience. The directorship should be +arranged without undue delay. The work of a director was not exacting, +while the pay was exceedingly generous. + +Sir John had already begun to draw the salary in imagination, and to +live up to it. Hence, if anything happened now to prevent the wedding, +it would be like knocking the bottom out of the universe. + +In the chances of human life, it did not seem at all likely that +anything would happen to prevent what he so much desired. It seemed +foolish to worry himself for a single moment. And yet he did worry. +There was always that off-chance. Nobody could ward off accidents or +disease. + +Dorothy had gone out riding alone. She refused to have a groom with her, +and, of course, she had to have her own way; but he was always more or +less fidgety when she was out on these expeditions. + +And yet it was not the fear of accidents that really troubled him. What +he feared most was that she might become disillusioned. As yet she had +not awakened to the meaning and reality of life. She was like a child +asleep, wandering through a fairyland of dreams and illusions. But she +might awake at any moment--awake to the passion of love, awake to the +romance as well as the reality of life. + +The appeal as yet had been to her vanity--to her sense of +self-importance. There had been no appeal to her heart or affections. +She did not know what love was, and if she married Lord Probus it would +be well for her if she never knew. But love might awake when least +expected; her heart might be stirred unconsciously. Some Romeo might +cross her path, and with one glance of his eyes might change all her +life and all her world; and a woman in love was more intractable than a +comet. + +Sir John would not like to be brought into such a position that he would +have to coerce his child. Spendthrift that he was, and worse, with a +deep vein of selfishness that made him intensely unpopular with all his +tenants, he nevertheless loved Dorothy with a very genuine affection. +Geoffrey, his son and heir, had never appealed very strongly to his +heart. Geoffrey was too much like himself, too indolent and selfish. But +Dorothy was like her mother, whose passing was as the snapping of a +rudder chain in a storm. + +The gritting of wheels on the gravel caused Sir John to turn suddenly on +his heel, and descending the steps at the end of the terrace, he walked +a little distance to meet the approaching carriage. + +Lord Probus was not expected, but he was not the less welcome on that +account. + +"The day is so lovely that I thought I would drive across to have a peep +at you all," Lord Probus said, stepping nimbly out of the landau. + +He was a dapper man, rather below the medium height, with a bald head +and iron-grey, military moustache. He was sixty years of age, but looked +ten years younger. + +"I am delighted to see you," Sir John said, with effusion, "and I am +sure Dorothy will be when she returns." + +"She is out, is she?" + +"She is off riding as usual. Since you presented her with Jess, she has +spent most of her time in the saddle." + +"She is a good horsewoman?" + +"Excellent. She took to riding as a duck takes to water. She rode with +the hounds when she was ten." + +"I wish I could ride!" Lord Probus said, reflectively. "I believe horse +exercise would do me good; but I began too late in life." + +"Like skating and swimming, one must start young if he is to excel," Sir +John answered. + +"Yes, yes; and youth passes all too quickly." And his lordship sighed. + +"Well, as to that, one is as young as one feels, you know." And Sir John +led the way into the house. + +Lord Probus followed with a frown. Sir John had unwittingly touched him +on a sore spot. If he was no younger than he felt, he was unmistakably +getting old. He tried to appear young, and with a fair measure of +success; tried to persuade himself that he was still in his prime; but +every day the fact was brought painfully home to him that he had long +since turned the brow of the hill, and was descending rapidly the other +side. Directly he attempted to do what was child's play to him ten years +before, he discovered that the spring had gone out of his joints and the +nerve from his hand. + +He regretted this not only for his own sake, but in some measure for +Dorothy's. He never looked into her fresh young face without wishing he +was thirty years younger. She seemed very fond of him at present. She +would sit on the arm of his chair and pat his bald head and pull his +moustache, and call him her dear, silly old boy; and when he turned up +his face to be kissed, she would kiss him in the most delightful +fashion. + +But he could not help wondering at times how long it would last. That +she was fond of him just now he was quite sure. She told him in her +bright, ingenuous way that she loved him; but he was not so blind as not +to see that there was no passion in her love. In truth, she did not know +what love was. + +He was none the less anxious, however, on that account, to make her his +wife, but rather the more. The fact that the best part of his life was +gone made him all the more eager to fill up what remained with delight. +He might reckon upon another ten years of life, at least, and to possess +Dorothy for ten years would be worth living for--worth growing old for. + +"You expect Dorothy back soon?" Lord Probus questioned, dropping into an +easy-chair. + +"Any minute, my lord. In fact, I expected her back before this." + +"Jess has been well broken in. I was very careful on that point." And +his lordship looked uneasily out of the window. + +"And then, you know, Dorothy could ride an antelope or a giraffe. She is +just as much at ease in a saddle as you are in that easy-chair." + +"Do you know, I get more and more anxious as the time draws near," his +lordship said absently. "It would be an awful blow to me if anything +should happen now to postpone the wedding." + +"Nothing is likely to happen," Sir John said grimly, but with an +apprehensive look in his eyes. "Dorothy is in the best of health, and so +are you." + +"Well, yes, I am glad to say I am quite well. And Dorothy, you think, +shows no sign of rueing her bargain?" + +"On the contrary, she has begun to count the days." And Sir John walked +to the window and raised the blind a little. + +"I shall do my best to make her happy," his lordship said, with a smile. +"And, bachelor as I am, I think I know what girls like." + +"There's no doubt about that," was the laughing answer. "But who comes +here?" And Sir John ran to the door and stepped out on the terrace. + +A boy without coat, and carrying his cap in his hand, ran eagerly up to +him. His face was streaming with perspiration, and his eyes ready to +start out of their sockets. + +"If you please, sir," he said, in gasps, "your little maid has been and +got killed!" + +"My little maid?" Sir John questioned. "Which maid? I did not know any +of the servants were out." + +"No, not any servant, sir; but your little maid, Miss Dorothy." + +"My daughter!" he almost screamed. And he staggered up against the porch +and hugged one of the pillars for support. + +"Thrown from her horse, sir, down agin Treliskey Plantation," the boy +went on. "Molly Udy says she reckons her neck's broke." + +Sir John did not reply, however. He could only stand and stare at the +boy, half wondering whether he was awake or dreaming. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A NEW SENSATION + + +Ralph Penlogan's first impulse was to rush off into St. Goram and rouse +the village; but on second thoughts he dropped on his knees by the side +of the prostrate girl, and placed his ear close to her lips. For a +moment or two he remained perfectly still, with an intent and anxious +expression in his eyes; then his face brightened, and something like a +smile played round the corners of his lips. + +"No, she is not dead," he said to himself. And he heaved a great sigh of +relief. + +But he still felt doubtful as to the best course to take. To leave the +unconscious girl lying alone by the roadside seemed to him, for some +reason, a cruel thing to do. She might die, or she might return to +consciousness, and find herself helpless and forsaken, without a human +being or even a human habitation in sight. + +"Oh, I hope she will not die," he said to himself, half aloud, "for if +she does I shall feel like a murderer." And he put his ear to her lips a +second time. + +No, she still breathed, but the rivulet of blood seemed to be growing +larger. + +He raised her gently and let her head rest against his knee while he +examined the wound underneath her auburn hair. He tried his best to +repress a shudder, but failed. Then he pulled a handkerchief from his +pocket, and proceeded to bind it tightly round her head. How pale her +face was, and how beautiful! He had never seen, he thought, so lovely a +face before. + +He wondered who she was and where she lived. + +The horse whinnied a little distance away, and again the question darted +through his mind, What was he to do? If he waited for anyone to pass +that way he might wait a week. The road was strictly private, and there +was a notice up that trespassers would be prosecuted. It had been a +public road once--a public road, indeed, from time immemorial--but Sir +John had put a stop to that. In spite of protests and riots, and +threatened appeals to law, he had won the day, and no man dared walk +through the plantation now without first asking his consent. + +"She can't be very heavy," Ralph thought, as he looked down into her +sweet, colourless face. "I'll have to make the attempt, anyhow. It's +nearly two miles to St. Goram; but perhaps I shall be able to manage +it." + +A moment or two later he had gathered her up in his strong arms, and, +with her bandaged head resting on his shoulder, and her heart beating +feebly against his own, he marched away back over the broken gate in the +direction of St. Goram. Jess gave a feeble whinny, then followed slowly +and dejectedly, with her nose to the ground. + +Half a mile away the ground dipped into a narrow valley, with a clear +stream of water meandering at the bottom. + +Ralph laid down his burden very gently and tenderly close to the stream, +with her head pillowed on a bank of moss. He was at his wits' end, but +he thought it possible that some ice-cold water sprinkled on her face +might revive her. + +Jess stood stock-still a few yards away and watched the operation. Ralph +sprinkled the cold water first on her face, then he got a large leaf, +and made a cup of it, and tried to get her to drink; but the water +trickled down her neck and into her bosom. + +She gave a sigh at length and opened her eyes suddenly. Then she tried +to raise her head, but it fell back again in a moment. + +Ralph filled the leaf again and raised her head. + +"Try to drink this," he said. "I'm sure it will do you good." And she +opened her lips and drank. + +He filled the leaf a third time, and she followed him with her eyes, but +did not attempt to speak. + +"Now, don't you feel better?" he questioned, after she had swallowed the +second draught. + +"I don't know," she answered, in a whisper. "But who are you? And where +am I?" + +"You have had an accident," he said. "Your horse threw you. Don't you +remember?" + +She closed her eyes and knitted her brows as if trying to recall what +had happened. + +"It was close to Treliskey Plantation," he went on, "and the gate was +shut. You told me to open it, and I refused. I was a brute, and I shall +never forgive myself so long as I live." + +"Oh yes; I remember," she said, opening her eyes slowly, and the +faintest suggestion of a smile played round her ashen lips. "You took +offence because----" + +"I was a brute!" he interjected. + +"I ought not to have spoken as I did," she said, in a whisper. "I had no +right to command you. Do--do you think I shall die?" + +"No, no!" he cried, aghast. "What makes you ask such a question?" + +"I feel so strange," she answered, in the same faint whisper, "and I +have no strength even to raise my head." + +"But you will get better!" he said eagerly. "You must get better--you +must! For my sake, you must!" + +"Why for your sake?" she whispered. + +"Because if you die I shall feel like a murderer all the rest of my +life. Oh, believe me, I did not mean to be rude and unkind! I would die +for you this very moment if I could make you better! Oh, believe me!" +And the tears came up and filled his eyes. + +She looked at him wonderingly. His words were so passionate, and rang +with such a deep note of conviction, that she could not doubt his +sincerity. + +"It was all my fault," she whispered, after a long pause; then the light +faded from her eyes again. Ralph rushed to the stream and fetched more +water, but she was quite unconscious when he returned. + +For a moment or two he looked at her, wondering whether her ashen lips +meant the approach of death; then he gathered her up in his arms again +and marched forward in the direction of St. Goram. + +The road seemed interminable, while his burden hung a dead weight in his +arms, and grew heavier every step he took. He was almost ready to drop, +when a feeble sigh sounded close to his ear, followed by a very +perceptible shudder. + +He was afraid to look at her. He had heard that people shuddered when +they died. A moment or two later he was reassured. A soft voice +whispered-- + +"Are you taking me home?" + +"I am taking you to St. Goram," he answered "I don't know where your +home is." + +She raised herself suddenly and locked her arms about his neck, and at +the touch of her hands the blood leaped in his veins and his face became +crimson. He no longer felt his burden heavy, no longer thought the way +long. A new chord had been struck somewhere, which sang through every +fibre of his being. A new experience had come to him, unlike anything he +had ever before felt or imagined. + +He raised her a little higher in his arms, and pressed her still closer +to his heart. He was trembling from head to foot; his head swam with a +strange intoxication, his heart throbbed at twice its normal rate. He +had suddenly got into a world of enchantment. Life expanded with a new +meaning and significance. + +It did not matter for the moment who this fair creature was or where she +lived. He had got possession of her; her arms were about his neck, her +head rested on his shoulder, her face was close to his, her breath +fanned his cheek, he could feel the beating of her heart against his +own. + +He marched over the brow of the hill and down the other side in a kind +of ecstasy. + +He waited for her to speak again, but for some reason she kept silent. +He felt her fingers clutch the back of his neck, and every now and then +a feeble sigh escaped her lips. + +"Are you in pain?" he asked at length. + +"I think I can bear it," she answered feebly. + +"I wish I could carry you more gently," he said, "but the ground is very +rough." + +"Oh, but you are splendid!" she replied. "I wish I had not been rude to +you." + +He gave a big gulp, as though a lump had risen in his throat. + +"Don't say that again, please," he said at length. "I feel bad enough to +drown myself." + +She did not reply again, and for a long distance he walked on in +silence. He was almost ready to drop, and yet he was scarcely conscious +of fatigue. It seemed to him as though the strength of ten men had been +given to him. + +"We shall be in the high road in a few minutes now," he said at length; +but she did not reply. Her hands seemed to be relaxing their hold about +his neck again; her weight had suddenly increased. + +He staggered hurriedly forward to the junction of the roads, and then +sat down suddenly on a bank, still holding his precious charge in his +arms. He shifted her head a little, so that he could look at her face. +She did not attempt to speak, though he saw she was quite conscious. + +"There's some kind of vehicle coming along the road," he said at length, +lifting his head suddenly. + +She did not reply, but her eyes seemed to search his face as though +something perplexed her. + +"Are you easier resting?" he questioned. + +She closed her eyes slowly by way of reply; she was too spent to speak. + +"You have not yet told me who you are," he said at length. All thought +of rank and station had passed out of his mind. They were on an equality +while he sat there folding her in his arms. + +She opened her eyes again, and her lips moved, but no sound escaped +them. + +In the distance the rattle of wheels sounded more and more distinct. + +"Help is coming," he whispered. "I'm sure it is." + +Her eyes seemed to smile into his, but no other answer was given. + +He looked eagerly toward the bend of the road, and after a few minutes a +horse and carriage appeared in sight. + +"It's Dr. Barrow's carriage," he said half aloud. "Oh, this is +fortunate!" + +He raised a shout as the carriage drew near. The coachman saw that +something had happened, and pulled up suddenly. The doctor pushed his +head out of the window, then turned the door-handle and stepped out on +to the roadside. + +"Hello, Ralph Penlogan!" he said, rushing forward, "what is the meaning +of this?" + +"She got thrown from her horse up against Treliskey Plantation," he +answered. "Do you know who she is?" + +"Of course I know who she is!" was the quick reply. "Don't you know?" + +"No. I never saw her before. Do you think she will recover?" + +"Has she been unconscious all the time?" the doctor asked, placing his +fingers on her wrist. + +"No; she's come to once or twice. I thought at first she was dead. +There's a big cut on her head, which has bled a good deal." + +"She must be got home instantly," was the reply. "Help me to get her +into the carriage at once!" + +It was an easy task for the two men. Dorothy had relapsed into complete +unconsciousness again. Very carefully they propped her up in a corner of +the brougham, while the doctor took his place by her side. + +Ralph would have liked to ride with them. He rather resented Dr. Barrow +taking his place. He had a notion that nobody could support the +unconscious girl so tenderly as himself. + +There was no help for it, however. He had to get out of the carriage and +leave the two together. + +"Tell William," said the doctor, "to drive round to the surgery before +going on to Hamblyn Manor." + +"To Hamblyn Manor?" Ralph questioned, with a look of perplexity in his +eyes as he stood at the carriage door. + +"Why, where else should I take her?" + +"Is she from up the country?" + +"From up the country--no. Do you mean to say you've lived here all your +life and don't know Miss Hamblyn?" + +"But she is only a girl," Ralph said, looking at the white face that was +leaning against the doctor's shoulder. + +"Well?" + +"Miss Hamblyn is going to be married!" + +The doctor's face clouded in a moment. + +"I fear this will mean the postponement of the marriage," he said. + +Ralph groaned inwardly and turned away. + +"The doctor says you must drive round to the surgery before going on to +Hamblyn Manor," he said, speaking to the coachman, and then he stood +back and watched the carriage move away. + +It seemed to him like a funeral, with Jess as the mourner, limping +slowly behind. The doctor hoped to avoid attracting attention in St. +Goram. He did not know that Jess was following the carriage all the way. + +It was the sight of the riderless horse that attracted people's +attention. Then, when the carriage pulled up at the doctor's door, +someone bolder than the rest looked in at the window and caught a +glimpse of the unconscious figure. + +The doctor's anger availed him nothing. Other people came and looked, +and the news spread through St. Goram like wildfire, and in the end an +enterprising lad took to his heels and ran all the distance to Hamblyn +Manor that he might take to Sir John the evil tidings. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A BITTER INTERVIEW + + +Dr. Barrow remained at the Manor House most of the night. It was clear +from his manner, as well as from the words he let fall, that he regarded +Dorothy's case as serious. Sir John refused to go to bed. + +"I shall not sleep in any case," he said. "And I prefer to remain +downstairs, so that I can hear the latest news." + +Lord Probus remained with him till after midnight, though very few words +passed between them. Now and then they looked at each other in a dumb, +despairing fashion, but neither had the courage to talk about what was +uppermost in their thoughts. + +Just as the daylight was struggling into the room, the doctor came in +silently, and dropped with a little sigh into an easy-chair. + +"Well?" Sir John questioned, looking at him with stony eyes. + +"She is a little easier for the moment," was the quiet, unemotional +answer. + +"You think she will pull through?" + +"I hope so, but I shall be able to speak with more confidence later." + +"The wound in her head is a bad one?" + +The doctor smiled. "If that were all, we would soon have her on her feet +again." + +"But what other injuries has she sustained?" + +"It is impossible to say just at present. She evidently fell under the +horse. The wonder is she's alive at all." + +"I suppose nobody knows how it happened?" Sir John questioned after a +pause. + +"Well, I believe nobody saw the accident, though young Ralph Penlogan +was near the spot at the time--and a fortunate thing too, or she might +have remained where she fell till midnight." + +"You have seen the young man?" + +"He had carried her in his arms from Treliskey Plantation to the +junction of the high road." + +"Without assistance?" + +"Without assistance. What else could he do? There was not a soul near +the spot. Since you closed the road through the plantation, it is never +used now, except by the few people to whom you have granted the right of +way." + +"So young Penlogan was in the plantation, was he?" + +"I really don't know. He may have been on the common." + +Sir John frowned. "Do you know," he said, after a pause, "that I dislike +that young man exceedingly." + +"Indeed?" + +"He is altogether above his station. I believe he is clever, mind you, +and all that, but what does a working-man's son want to bother himself +with mechanics and chemistry for?" + +"Why not?" the doctor asked, with slightly raised eyebrows. + +"Why? Because this higher education, as it is called, is bringing the +country to the dogs. Get an educated proletariat, and the reign of the +nobility and gentry is at an end. You see the thin end of the wedge +already. Your Board-school boys and girls are all cursed with notions; +they are too big for their jackets, too high for their station; they +have no respect for squire or parson, and they are too high and mighty +to do honest work." + +"I cannot say that has been my experience," the doctor said quietly; and +he rose from his chair and began to pull on his gloves. + +"You are not going?" Sir John questioned anxiously. + +"For an hour or two. I should like, with your permission, to telegraph +to Dr. Roscommon. You know he is regarded now as the most famous surgeon +in the county." + +"But surely, doctor----" Sir John began, with a look of consternation in +his eyes. + +"I should like to have his opinion," the doctor said quietly. + +"Of course--of course! Get the best advice you can. No expense must be +spared. My child must be saved at all costs." + +"Rest assured we shall do our best," the doctor answered, and quietly +left the room. + +For the best part of another hour Sir John paced restlessly up and down +the room, then he dropped into an easy-chair and fell fast asleep. + +He was aroused at length by a timid knock at the door. + +"Come in!" he answered sleepily, fancying for a moment that he was in +bed, and that his servant had brought him his shaving-water. + +The next moment he was on his feet, with an agitated look in his eyes. + +A servant entered, followed by Ralph Penlogan, who looked as if he had +not slept for the night. + +Instead of waiting to know if Sir John would see him, Ralph had stalked +into the room on the servant's heels. He was too anxious to stand on +ceremony, too eager to unburden his mind. He had never had a moment's +peace since his meeting with Dorothy Hamblyn the previous afternoon. He +felt like a criminal, and would have given all he possessed if he could +have lived over the previous afternoon again. + +Sir John recognised him in a moment, and drew himself up stiffly. He +never felt altogether at ease in the presence of the Penlogans. He knew +that he had "done" the father, driven a most unfair bargain with him, +and it is said a man never forgives a fellow-creature he has wronged. + +"I have come to speak to you about the accident to your daughter," Ralph +said, plunging at once into the subject that filled his mind. + +"Yes, yes; I am glad you have called," Sir John said, walking to the +mantelpiece and leaning his elbow on it. + +"I hope she is better?" Ralph went on. "You think she will recover?" + +"I am sorry to say she is very seriously injured," Sir John answered +slowly; "but, naturally, we hope for the best." + +Ralph dropped his eyes to the floor, and for a moment was silent. + +"Dr. Barrow tells me that you were near the spot at the time of the +accident," Sir John went on; "for that reason I am glad you have +called." + +"There isn't much to tell," Ralph answered, without raising his eyes, +"but I am anxious to tell what there is." + +"Ah!" Sir John gasped, glancing across at his visitor suspiciously. + +"After what has happened, you can't blame me more than I blame myself," +Ralph went on; "though, of course, I never imagined for a moment that +she would attempt to leap the gate." + +"I don't quite understand," Sir John said stiffly. + +"Well, it was this way. I was leaning on the stile leading down into +Dingley Bottom, when someone rode up and ordered me to open the gate +leading into Treliskey Plantation. If the lady had asked me to open the +gate I should have done it in a minute." + +"So you refused to do a neighbourly act, did you?" + +"I told her I was not her servant, at which she got very indignant, and +ordered me to do as I was told." + +"And you refused a second time?" + +"I did. In fact, I felt very bitter. People in our class suffer so many +indignities from the rich that we are apt to be soured." + +"Soured, indeed! Your accursed Board-school pride not only makes cads of +you, but criminals!" And Sir John's eyes blazed with passion. + +"I am not going to defend myself any further," Ralph said, raising his +eyes and looking him full in the face. "I am sorry now that I did not +open the gate--awfully sorry. I would give anything if I could live over +yesterday afternoon again!" + +"I should think so, indeed!" Sir John said, in his most biting tones. +"And understand this, young man, if my daughter dies I shall hold you +responsible for her death!" + +Ralph's face grew very white, but he did not reply. + +Sir John, however, was in no mood to be silent. He had a good many +things bottled up in his mind, and Ralph's visit gave him an excuse for +pulling the cork out. + +"I want to say this also to you," he said, "now that you have given me +an opportunity of opening my mind--that I consider young men of your +stamp a danger and a menace to the neighbourhood!" + +Ralph looked at him without flinching, but he did not speak. + +"There was a time," Sir John went on, "when people knew how to respect +their betters, when the working classes kept their place and did not +presume, and when such as you would never have ventured into this house +by the front door!" + +"I came by the nearest way," Ralph answered, "and did not trouble to +inquire which door it was." + +"Your father no doubt thinks he has been doing a wise thing in keeping +himself on short commons to give you what he foolishly imagines is an +education." + +"Excuse me, but we are all kept on short commons because you took +advantage of my father's ignorance. If he had had a little better +education he would not have allowed himself to be duped by you!" And he +turned and made for the door. + +But Sir John intercepted him, with flashing eyes and passion-lined face. + +"Have you come here to insult me?" he thundered. "By Heaven, I've a good +mind to call my servants in and give you a good horsewhipping!" + +Ralph stood still and scowled angrily. + +"I neither came here to insult you nor to be insulted by you! I came +here to express my regret that I did not pocket my pride and open the +gate for your daughter. I have made the best amends in my power, and +now, if you will let me, I will go home." + +"I am not sure that I will let you!" Sir John said angrily. "It seems to +me the proper thing would be to send for the police and get you locked +up. How do I know that you did not put something in the way to prevent +my daughter's horse clearing the gate? I know that you hate your +betters--like most of your class, alas! in these times----" + +"We should not hate you if you dealt justly by us!" Ralph retorted. + +"Dealt justly, indeed!" Sir John sneered. "It makes me ill to hear such +as you talking about justice! You ought to be thankful that you are +allowed to live in the parish at all!" + +"We are. We are grateful for the smallest mercies--grateful for room to +walk about." + +"That's more than some of you deserve," Sir John retorted angrily. "Now +go home and help your father on the farm. And, by Jove, tell him if he's +behind with his ground rent this year I'll make him sit up." + +Ralph's eyes blazed in a moment. That ground rent was to him the sum of +all iniquity. It represented to him the climax of greed and injustice. +The bitterness of it had eaten out all the joy of his father's life and +robbed his mother of all the fruits of her thrift and economy. + +Ralph's face was toward the door; but he turned in a moment, white with +passion. + +"I wonder you are not ashamed to speak of that ground rent," he said +slowly, and with biting emphasis. "You, who took advantage of my +father's love for his native place, and of his ignorance of legal +phraseology--you, who robbed a poor man of his savings, and cheated his +children out of their due. Ground rent, indeed! I wonder the word does +not stick in your throat and choke you." And before Sir John could reply +he had pulled open the door and passed out into the hall. + +He walked home by the forbidden path through the plantation, feeling +more reckless and defiant than he had ever felt before. He was in the +mood to run his head against any brick wall that might stand in his way; +he almost hoped that a keeper would cross his path and arrest him. He +wanted to have another tilt with Sir John, and show him how lightly he +regarded his authority. + +No keeper, however, showed his face. He was left in undisturbed +possession of field and fell. He whistled loudly and defiantly, as he +strutted through the dim aisles of the plantation, and tried to persuade +himself that he was not a bit sorry that Sir John at that moment was +suffering all the tortures of suspense. He would have persuaded himself, +if he could, that he did not care whether Dorothy Hamblyn lived or died; +but that was altogether beyond his powers. He did care. Every fibre of +his being seemed to plead for her recovery. + +He came at length upon the scene of the previous day's accident. To all +appearances no one had visited it. The broken gate had not been touched. +On the ground was a dark stain which had been crimson the day before, +but no one would notice it unless it were pointed out; for the rest, +Nature showed no regard for human pain or grief. + +It was a glorious morning in late summer. The woods were at their best; +the fields were yellowing in all directions to the harvest. High in the +blue heavens the larks were trilling their morning song, while in the +banks and hedges the grasshoppers were whirring and chattering with all +their might. It was a morning to inspire the heart with confidence and +hope, to cleanse the eyes from the dust of doubt, and to uplift the +spirit from the fogs of pessimism and despair. + +And yet Ralph Penlogan heard no song that morning, nor even saw the +sunshine. A dull weight was pressing on his heart which he had no power +to lift. Anger and regret struggled within him for the mastery, while +constantly a new emotion--which he did not understand as yet--ran +through his veins like liquid fire. + +When he reached the stile he rested for a few moments, and recalled the +scene of the previous day. It was not difficult. The face of the fair +horsewoman he would never forget; the soft, imperious voice rang through +his brain like the sound of evening bells. Her smile was like sunshine +on waving corn. + +Then in his fancy he saw Jess dart forward, and then came the sickening +sound of splintering wood. What happened after that he knew all too +well. + +It would be a cruel thing for death to blot out a smile so sweet, and +the grave to hide a face so fair. While there were so many things in the +world that were neither lovely nor useful nor inspiring, it would seem +like a sin against Nature to blot out and destroy so sweet a presence. +Let the weeds be plucked up, let the thorns be burned; but the flowers +should be allowed to remain to brighten the world and gladden the hearts +of men. + +He sprang over the stile at length, and strode away in the direction of +Dingley Bottom with a scowl upon his face. + +What right had he to be thinking about the squire's daughter? Did he not +despise the class to which she belonged? Did he not hate her father +because, having a giant's strength, he used it like a giant? Had not the +justice of the strong become a byword and a loathing? Had he not sworn +eternal enmity to the oppressor and all who shared his gains? + +On the brow of the next low hill he paused again. Before him, in a +little hollow, lay the homestead his father had built; and spread out on +three sides were the fields he had reclaimed from the wilderness. + +It had been a hard and almost heartbreaking task, for when he commenced +the enterprise he had but a faint idea what it would cost. It seemed +easy enough to root up the furze bushes and plough down the heather, and +the soil looked so loamy and rich that he imagined a heavy crop would be +yielded the first year. + +And yet it was not to make money that David Penlogan had leased a +portion of Polskiddy Downs, and built a house thereon. It was rather +that he might have a quiet resting-place in the evening of his life, and +be able to spend his days in the open air--in the wind and sunshine--and +be set free from the perils that beset an underground captain in a +Cornish mine. + +With what high hopes he embarked upon the enterprise none but David +knew. It was his one big investment. All the savings of a lifetime went +into it. He took his hoarded sovereigns out of the bank without +misgiving, and felt as happy as a king, while he toiled like a slave. + +His neighbours stared and shook their heads when it leaked out on what +terms he had taken the lease. + +"Sir John has been too many for you, David," an old farmer said to him +one day. "You might as well empty your purse in his pocket right off. +You'll not have money enough to buy a coffin with when he's finished +with you." + +But David knew better, or fancied he did, which is much the same thing. + +He hired horses and ploughs and stubbers and hedgers and ditchers, and +masons and carpenters, and for a year that corner of Polskiddy Downs was +alive with people. + +The house was built from plans David prepared himself. Barn and cowsheds +were erected at a convenient distance. Hedges were carried in straight +lines across the newly cultivated fields. A small orchard was planted +beyond the kitchen garden, and everything, to David's hopeful eyes, +looked promising for the future. + +That was twelve years ago, and in those years David had grown to be an +old man. He had spent his days in the open air, it is true--in the wind +and sunshine, and in the rain and snow--and he had contracted rheumatism +and bronchitis, and all the heart had gone out of him in the hopeless +struggle. + +As Ralph looked out over the not too fruitful fields which his father +had reclaimed from the waste with such infinite toil, and at the +sacrifice of all his savings, he forgot the fair face of Dorothy +Hamblyn, which had been haunting him all the way back, and remembered +only the iron hand of her father. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CHANCES OF LIFE + + +Ralph had started so early that morning that he had had no time to get +breakfast. Now he began to feel the pangs of hunger most acutely. + +"I expect mother will have kept something for me," he said to himself, +as he descended the slope. "I hope she is not worrying about what has +become of me." + +He looked right and left for his father, expecting to find him at work +in the fields, but David was nowhere in evidence. + +Ralph made a bee-line across the fields, and was soon in the shelter of +the little homestead. He found his father and mother and his sister Ruth +still seated at the breakfast-table. Ruth pushed back her chair at the +sound of his footsteps and rose to her feet. + +"Why, Ralph," she said, "where have you been? Mother's been quite +worried about you." + +"If that's all she has to worry her, she needn't worry much," he said, +with a laugh. "But has anything happened? You all look desperately +sober." + +"We've heard some news that has made us all feel very anxious," David +answered wearily. "We've sat here talking about it for the last +half-hour." + +"Then the news concerns us all?" Ralph questioned, with a catch in his +voice. + +"Very closely, my boy--very closely. The truth is, Julian Seccombe has +got wounded out in Egypt." + +"And he's the last life on the farm?" Ralph questioned, with a gasp. + +"That is so, my boy. It seems strange that I should be so unfortunate in +the choice of lives, and yet I could not have been more careful. Who +could have thought that the parson's boy would become a soldier?" + +"Life is always uncertain," Ralph answered, with a troubled look in his +eyes, "whether a man is a soldier or a farmer." + +"That is so," David answered reflectively. "Yet my father held his +little place on only two lives, and one of them lived to be +seventy-five." + +"But, even then, I've heard you say the lease ran only a little over +sixty years. It's a wicked gamble, is this leasehold system, with the +chances in favour of the landlord." + +"Why a gamble in favour of the landlord, my boy?" David questioned, +lifting his mild eyes to his son's face. + +"Why, because if all the 'lives' live out their threescore years and +ten, the lease is still a short one; for you don't start with the first +year of anyone's life." + +"That is true," David answered sadly. "The parson's boy was ten, which I +thought would be balanced by the other two." + +"And the other two did not live ten years between them." + +"Of course, nobody could foresee that," David answered sadly. "They were +both healthy children. Our little Billy was three, and the healthiest +baby of the lot." + +"But with all the ailments of children in front of him?" + +"Well, no. He had had whooping-cough, and got through it easily. It was +the scarlet fever that carried him off. Poor little chap, he was gone in +no time." + +"And so, within a year, and after you had spent the greater part of your +money, your farm hung upon two lives," Ralph said bitterly. + +"But, humanly speaking, they were good lives. Not lives that would be +exposed to much risk. Lawyer Doubleday told me that he intended to bring +up his boy to the same profession, and Parson Seccombe told me he had +dedicated Julian to the Church in his infancy. What better lives, +humanly speaking, could you get? Neither parsons nor lawyers run any +risks to speak of." + +"Yes; that's true enough. The system being what it is, you did the best +you could, no doubt." + +"Nobody could foresee," David said sadly, "that Doubleday's boy would go +and get drowned. I nearly fainted when I heard the news." + +"And now you say that young Seccombe has got shot out in Egypt." + +"I don't know as to his being shot; but Tom Dyer, who was here this +morning, said that he had just seen the parson, who was in great +trouble, news having reached him last evening that Julian was wounded." + +"Then if the parson's in great trouble, the chances are he's badly +wounded." + +"I don't know. I thought of walking across to St. Goram directly, and +seeing the parson for myself; but I'm almost afraid to do so, lest the +worst should be true." + +"We shall have to face it, whatever it is," Ralph said doggedly. + +"But think of what it would mean to us if the parson's son should die! +Poor mother is that troubled that she has not been able to eat a +mouthful of breakfast!" + +"She seems scarcely able to talk about it," Ralph said, glancing at the +door through which his mother and Ruth had disappeared. + +"She's a little bit disposed to look on the dark side of things +generally," David said slowly. "For myself, I keep hoping for the best. +It doesn't seem possible that God can strip us of everything at a blow." + +"It doesn't seem to me as though God had any hand in the business," +Ralph answered doggedly. + +"Hush, Ralph, my boy! The issues of life and death are in His hands." + +"And you believe also that He is the author of the leasehold system that +obtains in this country?" + +"I did not say that, Ralph; but He permits it." + +"Just as He permits lying and theft, and murder and war, and all the +other evil things there are in the world. But that is nothing to the +point. You can't make me believe that the Almighty ever meant a few +people to parcel out the world among themselves, and cheat all the rest +out of their rights." + +"The world is what it is, my boy, and neither you nor I can alter it." + +"And you think it is our duty to submit quietly and uncomplainingly to +whatever wrong or injustice is heaped upon us?" + +"We must submit to the law, my boy, however hardly it presses upon us." + +"But we ought to try, all the same, to get bad laws mended." + +"You can't ladle the sea dry with a limpet-shell, Ralph, nor carry off a +mountain in your pocket. No, no; let us not talk about the impossible, +nor give up hope until we are forced to. Perhaps young Seccombe will +recover." + +"But if he should die, father. What would happen then?" + +"I don't know, my boy, and I can't bear to think." + +"But we'd better face the possibility," Ralph answered doggedly, "so +that, if the worst should come to the worst, we may know just where we +are." + +"'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,'" David answered, with a +far-away look in his eyes. And he got up from his seat and walked slowly +out of the house. + +Ralph sat looking out of the window for several minutes, and then he +went off in search of his mother and Ruth. + +"Do you know, mother," he said, as cheerily as he could, "that I have +had no breakfast yet? And, in spite of the bad news, I am too hungry for +words." + +"Had no breakfast?" she said, lifting up her hands in surprise. "I made +sure you got something to eat before you went out." + +"Well, then, you were wrong for once," he said, laughing. "Now, please +put me out of my misery as quickly as possible." + +"Ah, Ralph," she answered, with a sigh, "if we had no worse misery than +hunger, how happy we should be!" + +"That is so, mother," he said, with a laugh. "Hunger is not at all bad +when you have plenty to eat." + +She sighed again. + +"It is well that you young people don't see far ahead of you," she said +plaintively. "But come here and get your breakfast." + +Two hours later, when in the home close hoeing turnips, he lifted his +head and saw his father coming across the fields from the direction of +St. Goram, he straightened his back at once and waited. He knew that he +had been to see the parson to get the latest and fullest news. David +came slowly on with his eyes upon the ground, as if buried in profound +thought. + +"Well, father, what news?" Ralph questioned, when his father came within +speaking distance. + +David started as though wakened out of a reverie, and came to a full +stop. Then a pathetic smile stole over his gentle face, and he came +forward with a quickened step. + +"I waited for the parson to get a reply from the War Office, or I should +have been home sooner," he said, bringing out the words slowly and +painfully. + +"Well?" Ralph questioned, though he felt sure, from his father's manner, +what the answer would be. + +"The parson fears the worst," David answered, bringing out the words in +jerks. "Poor man! He's in great trouble. I almost forgot my own when I +thought of his." + +"But what was the news he got from the War Office?" Ralph questioned. + +"Not much. He's on the list of the dangerously wounded, that's all." + +"But he may recover," Ralph said, after a pause. + +"Yes, he may," David answered, with a sigh. "God alone knows, but the +parson gave me no comfort at all." + +"How so?" + +"He says that the swords and spears of the dervishes are often poisoned; +then, you see, water is scarce, and the heat is terrible, so that a sick +man has no chance like he has here." + +Ralph did not reply. For a moment or two he looked at his father, then +went on with his hoeing. David walked by his side between the rows of +turnips. His face was drawn and pale, and his lips twitched incessantly. + +"The world seems terribly topsy-turvy," he said at length, as if +speaking to himself. "I oughtn't to be idling here, but all the heart's +gone out of me somehow." + +"We must hope for the best," Ralph said, without raising his head. + +"The parson's boy is the last 'life,'" David went on, as though he had +not heard what Ralph had said. "The last life. Just a thread, a feeble +little thread. One little touch, and then----" + +"Well, and what then?" Ralph questioned. + +"If the boy dies, this little farm is no longer ours. Though I have +reclaimed it from the waste, and spent on it all my savings, and toiled +from dawn to dark for twelve long years, and built the house and the +barn and the cowsheds, and gone into debt to stock it; if that boy dies +it all goes." + +"You mean that the squire will take possession?" + +"I mean that Sir John will claim it as his." + +Ralph did not speak again for several moments, but he felt his blood +tingling to his finger-tips. + +"It's a wicked, burning shame," he jerked out at length. + +"It is the law, my boy," David said sadly, "and you see there's no going +against the law." + +Ralph hung his head, and began hoeing vigorously his row. + +"Besides," David went on, "you see I was party to the arrangement--that +is, I accepted the conditions; but the luck has been on Sir John's +side." + +"He took a mean advantage of you, father, and you know it, and he knows +it," Ralph snapped. + +"He knew that I had set my heart on a bit of land that I could call my +own; that I wanted a sort of resting-place in my old age, and that I +desired to end my days in the parish in which I was born." + +"And so he put the screw on. It's always been a wonder to me, since I +could think about it at all, that you accepted the conditions. I would +have seen Sir John at the bottom of the sea first." + +"I did try to get better terms," David answered, looking wistfully +across the fields, "and I mentioned ninety-nine years as the term of the +lease, and he nearly turned me out of his office. 'Three lives or +nothing,' he snarled, 'and be quick about it.' So I had to make up my +mind there and then." + +"You'd have been better off, father, if you'd dropped all your money +down a mine shaft, and gone to work on a farm as a day labourer," Ralph +said bitterly. + +"I shouldn't have had to work so hard," David assented. + +"And you would have got more money, and wouldn't have had a hundredth +part of the anxiety." + +"You see, I thought the land was richer than it has turned out to be, +and the furze roots have kept sprouting year after year, and that has +meant ploughing the fields afresh. And the amount of manure I have had +to put in has handicapped me terribly. But I have kept hoping to get +into smooth waters by and by. The farm is looking better now than ever +it did before." + +"But the ground rent, father, is an outrage. Did you really understand +how much you were paying?" + +"He wouldn't consent to any less," David said wistfully. "You see things +were good with farmers at the time, and rents were going up. And then I +thought I should be allowed to work the quarry down in the delf, and +make some money out of the stone." + +"And you were done in that as in other things?" + +"Well, yes. There's no denying it. When I got to understand the +deed--and it took me a goodish time to riddle it out--I found out that I +had no right to the stone or the mineral, or the fish in the stream, or +to the trees, or to the game. Do you know he actually charged me for the +stone dug out of my own farm to build the house with?" + +"And ever since has been working the quarry at a big profit, which would +never have been unearthed but for you, and destroying one of your fields +in the process?" + +"I felt that about the quarry almost more than anything," David went on. +"But he's never discovered the tin lode, and I shall never tell him." + +"Is there a tin lode on the farm?" Ralph questioned eagerly. + +"Ay, a beauty! It must be seven years ago since I discovered it, and +I've kept it to myself. You see, it would ruin the farm to work it, and +I should not get a penny of the dues; they'd all go to the squire." + +"Everything gets back to the rich in the long-run," Ralph said bitterly. +"There's no chance for the poor man anywhere." + +"Oh, well, in a few years' time it won't matter to any of us," David +said, looking with dreamy eyes across the valley to the distant range of +hills. "In the grave we shall all be equal, and we shall never hear +again the voice of the oppressor." + +"That does not seem to me anything to the point," Ralph said, flashing +out the words angrily. "We've got as good a right to live as anybody +else. I don't ask favours from anybody, but I do want justice and fair +play." + +"It's difficult to know what justice is in this world," David said +moodily. "But there, I've been idling long enough. It's time I went back +and fetched my hoe and did a bit of work." And he turned slowly on his +heel and walked away toward the house. + +Ralph straightened his back and looked after him, and as he did so the +moisture came into his eyes. + +"Poor old father!" he said to himself, with a sigh. "He's feeling this +much more deeply than anyone knows. I do hope for all our sakes that +Julian Seccombe will recover." + +For the rest of the day Ralph's thoughts hovered between the possible +loss of their farm and the chances of Dorothy Hamblyn's recovery. He +hardly knew why he should worry himself about the squire's daughter so +much. Was it solely on the ground that he had refused to open the gate, +or was it because she was so pretty? + +He felt almost vexed with himself when this thought suggested itself to +his mind. What did it matter to him whether she was fair or plain? She +was Sir John Hamblyn's daughter, and that ought to be sufficient for +him. If there was any man on earth he hated and despised it was John +Hamblyn; hence to concern himself about the fate of his daughter because +she was good to look upon seemed the most ridiculous folly. + +It must surely be the other consideration that worried him. If he had +opened the gate the accident would not have happened; but neither would +it if she had ridden home the other way. She was paying the penalty of +her own wilfulness and her own imperiousness. He was not called on to be +the hack of anybody. + +But from whatever cause his anxiety might spring, it was there, +deep-rooted and persistent. + +He was glad when night came, so that he might forget himself, forget the +world, and forget everybody in it in the sweet oblivion of sleep. + +He hoped that the new day would bring better news, but in that he was +disappointed. The earlier part of the day brought no news at all, and +neither he nor his father went to seek it. But as the afternoon began to +wane, a horse-dealer from St. Goram left word that the parson's son was +dead, and that the squire's daughter was not likely to get better. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WAITING FOR THE BLOW TO FALL + + +David Penlogan was not the man to cry out when he was hurt. He went +about his work in dumb resignation. The calamity was too great to be +talked about, too overwhelming to be shaped into words. He could only +shut his teeth and endure. To discuss the matter, even with his wife, +would be like probing a wound with a red-hot needle. Better let it be. +There are times when words are like a blister on a burn. + +What the future had in store for him he did not know, and he had not the +courage to inquire. One text of Scripture he repeated to himself +morning, noon, and night, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," +and to that he held. It was his one anchor. The rope was frayed, and the +anchor out of sight--whether hooked to a rock or simply embedded in the +sand he did not know--but it steadied him while the storm was at its +worst. It helped him to endure. + +Harvest was beginning, and the crop had to be gathered in--gathered in +from fields that were no longer his, and that possibly he would never +plant again. It was all very pathetic. He seemed sometimes like a man +preparing for his own funeral. + +"When next year comes----" he would say to himself, and then he would +stop short. He had not courage enough yet to think of next year; his +business was with the present. His first, and, as far as he could see, +his only duty was to gather in the crops. Sir John had not spoken to him +yet. He was too concerned about his daughter to think of so small a +matter as the falling-in of a lease. Strange that what was a mere trifle +to one man should be a matter of life and death to another. + +It was a sad and silent harvest-tide for the occupants of Hillside Farm. +The impending calamity, instead of drawing them more closely together, +seemed to separate them. Each was afraid of betraying emotion before the +rest. So they avoided each other. Even at meal-times they all pretended +to be so busy that there was no time to talk. The weather was +magnificent, and all the cornfields were growing ripe together. This was +true of nearly every other farm in the parish. Hence hired labour could +not be had for love or money. The big farmers had picked up all the +casual harvesters beforehand. The small farmers would have to employ +their womenfolk and children. + +Ralph and his father got up each morning at sunrise, and, armed with +reaping-hooks, went their ways in different directions. Ralph undertook +to cut down the barley-field, David negotiated a large field of oats. +They could not talk while they were in different fields. Moreover, +neither was in the mood for company. Later on they might be able to talk +calmly and without emotion, but at present it would be foolish to make +the attempt. + +Every day they expected that Sir John Hamblyn or his steward would put +in an appearance; that would bring things to a head, and put an end to +the little conspiracy of silence that had now lasted nearly a week. But +day after day passed away, and the solemn gloom of the farm remained +unbroken. + +Ralph kept doggedly to his work. Work was the best antidote against +painful thoughts. Since the morning he walked across to Hamblyn Manor, +in order to ease his conscience by making a clean breast of it, he had +never ventured beyond his own homestead. He tried to persuade himself it +was no concern of his what happened, and that if Dorothy Hamblyn died it +would be a just judgment on Sir John for his grasping and oppressive +ways. + +But his heart always revolted against such reasoning. Deep down in his +soul he knew that, for the moment, he was more concerned about the fate +of Dorothy than anything else, and that it would be an infinite relief +to him to hear that she was out of danger. Try as he would, he could not +shake off the feeling that he was more or less responsible for the +accident. + +But day by day the news found its way across to the farm that "the +squire's little maid," as the villagers called her, was no better. +Sometimes, indeed, the news was that she was a good deal worse, and that +the doctors held out very little hope of her recovery. + +Ralph remained as silent on this as on the other subject. He had never +told anyone but Sir John that he had refused to open the gate. It had +seemed to him, while he sat on the stile and faced the squire's +daughter, a brave and courageous part to take, but he was ashamed of it +now. It would have been a far more heroic thing to have pocketed the +affront and overcome arrogance by generosity. + +But vision often comes too late. We see the better part when we are no +longer able to take it. + +Sunday brought the family together, and broke the crust of silence that +had prevailed so long. + +It was David's usual custom on a Sunday morning to walk across the +fields to his class-meeting, held in the little Methodist Chapel at +Veryan. But this particular Sunday morning he had not the courage to go. +If he could not open his heart before the members of his own family, how +could he before others? Besides, his experience would benefit no one. He +had no tale to tell of faith triumphing over despondency, and hope +banishing despair. He had come nearer being an infidel than ever before +in his life. It is not every man who can see that Providence may be as +clearly manifested in calamity as in prosperity. + +So instead of going to his meeting, David went out for a quiet walk in +the fields. He could talk to himself, if he had not the courage to talk +to others. Besides, Nature was nearly always restful, if not inspiring. + +Ralph came down to breakfast an hour later than was his custom. He was +so weary with the work of the week that he was half disposed to lie in +bed till the following morning. He found his breakfast set for him in +what was called the "living-room," but neither Ruth nor his mother was +visible. He ate his food without tasting it. His mind was too full of +other things to trouble himself about the quality of his victuals. When +he had finished he rose slowly from his chair, took a cloth cap from a +peg, and went through the open door into the garden. Plucking a sprig of +lad's-love, he stuck it into the buttonhole of his jacket, then climbed +over the hedge into an adjoining field. + +He came face to face with his father ten minutes later, and stared at +him in surprise. + +"Why, I thought you had gone to your meeting!" he said, in a tone of +wonderment. + +"I don't feel in any mood for meetings," David answered gloomily. "I +reckon I'm best by myself." + +"I fancy we've all been thinking the same thing these last few days," +Ralph answered, with a smile. "I'm not sure, however, that we're right. +We've got to talk about things sooner or later." + +"Yes; I suppose that is so," David answered wearily. "But, to tell you +the truth, I haven't got my bearings yet." + +"I reckon our first business is to try to keep afloat," Ralph answered. +"If we can do that, we may find our bearings later on." + +"You will find no difficulty, Ralph, for you are young, and have all the +world before you. Besides, I've given you an education. I knew it was +all I could give you." + +"I'm afraid it won't be of much use to me in a place like this," Ralph +answered, with a despondent look in his eyes. + +"There's no knowing, my boy. Knowledge, they say, is power. If you are +thrown overboard you will swim; but with mother and me it is different. +We're too old to start again, and all our savings are swallowed up." + +"Not all, surely, father! There are the crops and cattle and +implements." + +David shook his head. + +"Over against the crops," he said, "are the seed bills, and the manure +bills, and the ground rent, and over against the cattle is the mortgage. +I never thought of telling you, Ralph, for I never reckoned on this +trouble coming. But when I started I thought the money I had would be +quite enough not only to build the house and outbuildings, and bring the +farm under cultivation, but to stock it as well. But it was a much more +expensive business than I knew." + +"And so you had to mortgage the farm?" + +"No, my lad. Nobody would lend money on a three-life lease." + +"And yet you risked your all on it?" + +"Ah, my boy, I did it for the best. God knows I did! I wanted to provide +a nest for our old age." + +"No one will blame you on that score," Ralph answered, with tears in his +eyes; "but the best ships founder sometimes." + +"Yes. I have kept saying to myself ever since the news came that I am +not the only man who has come to grief, and yet I don't know, my boy, +that that helps me very much." + +Ralph was silent for several minutes; then he said-- + +"Is this mortgage or note of hand or bill of sale--or whatever it +is--for a large amount?" + +"Well, rather, Ralph. I'm afraid, if we have to shift from here, +there'll be little or nothing left." + +"But if you are willing to remain as tenant, Sir John will make no +attempt to move you?" + +"I'm not so sure, my son. Sir John is a hard man and a bitter, and he +has no liking for me. At the last election I was not on his side, as you +may remember, and he never forgets such things." + +Ralph turned away and bit his lip. The memory of what the squire said to +him a few days previously swept over him like a cold flood. + +"I'm inclined to think, father," he said at length, "that we'd better +prepare for the worst. It'll be better than building on any +consideration we may receive from the squire." + +"I think you are right, my boy." And they turned and walked toward the +house side by side. + +They continued their talk in the house, and over the dinner-table. Now +that the ice was broken the stream of conversation flowed freely. Ruth +and Mrs. Penlogan let out the pent-up feelings of their hearts, and +their tears fell in abundance. + +It did the women good to cry. It eased the pain that was becoming +intolerable. Ralph talked bravely and heroically. All was not lost. They +had each other, and they had health and strength, and neither of them +was afraid of hard work. + +By tea-time they had talked each other into quite a hopeful frame of +mind. Mrs. Penlogan was inclined to the belief that Sir John would +recognise the equity of the case, and would let them remain as tenants +at a very reasonable rent. + +"Don't let us build on that, mother," Ralph said. "If he foregoes the +tiniest mite of his pound of flesh, so much the better; but to reckon on +it might mean disappointment. We'd better face the worst, and if we do +it bravely we shall win." + +In this spirit they went off to the evening service at the little chapel +at Veryan. The building was plain--four walls with a lid, somebody +described it--the service homely in the extreme, the singing decidedly +amateurish, but there were warmth and emotion and conviction, and +everybody was pleased to see the Penlogans in their places. + +At the close of the service a little crowd gathered round them, and +manifested their sympathy in a dozen unspoken ways. Of course, everybody +knew what had happened, and everybody wondered what the squire would do +in such a case. The law was on his side, no doubt, but there ought to be +some place for equity also. David Penlogan had scarcely begun yet to +reap any of the fruit of his labour, and it would be a most unfair +thing, law or no law, that the ground landlord should come in and take +everything. + +"Oh, he can't do it," said an old farmer, when discussing the matter +with his neighbour. "He may be a hard man, but he'd never be able to +hold up his head again if he was to do sich a thing." + +"It's my opinion he'll stand on the law of the thing," was the reply. "A +bargain's a bargain, as you know very well, an' what's the use of a +bargain ef you don't stick to 'un?" + +"Ay, but law's one thing and right's another, and a man's bound to have +some regard for fair play." + +"He ought to have, no doubt; but the squire's 'ard up, as everybody +knows, and is puttin' on the screw on every tenant he's got. My opinion +is he'll stand on the law." + +No one said anything to David, however, about what had happened, except +in the most indirect way. Sunday evening was not the time to discuss +secular matters. Nevertheless, David felt the unspoken sympathy of his +neighbours, and returned home comforted. + +The next week passed as the previous one had done, and the week after +that. The squire had not come across, nor sent his steward. David began +to fear that the long silence was ominous. Mrs. Penlogan held to the +belief that Sir John meant to deal generously by them. Ralph kept his +thoughts to himself, but on the whole he was not hopeful. + +The weather continued beautifully fine, and all hands were kept busy in +the fields. Except on Sundays they scarcely ever caught a glimpse of +their neighbours. No one had any time to pay visits or receive them. The +harvest must be got in, if possible, before the weather broke, and to +that end everyone who could help--little and big, young and old--was +pressed into the service. + +On the big farms there was a good deal of fun and hilarity. The village +folk--lads and lasses alike--who knew anything about harvest work, and +were willing to earn an extra sixpence, were made heartily welcome. +Consequently there was not a little horse-play, and no small amount of +flirtation, especially after night came on, and the harvest moon began +to climb up into the heavens. + +Then, when the field was safely sheafed and shocked, they repaired to +the farm kitchen, where supper was laid, and where ancient jokes were +trotted out amid roars of laughter, and where the hero of the evening +was the man who had a new story to tell. Supper ended, they made their +way home through the quiet lanes or across the fields. That, to some of +the young people, seemed the best part of the day. They forgot the +weariness engendered by a dozen hours in the open air while they +listened to a story old as the human race, and yet as new to-day as when +syllabled by the first happy lover. + +But on the small farms, where no outside help was employed, there was +very little mirth or hilarity. All the romance of harvest was found +where the crowd was gathered. Young people sometimes gave their services +of an evening, so that they could take part in the fun. + +As David Penlogan and his family toiled in the fields in the light of +the harvest moon they sometimes heard sounds of merry-making and +laughter floating across the valley from distant farmsteads, and they +wondered a little bit sadly where the next harvest-time would find them. + +On the third Saturday night they stood still to listen to a familiar +sound in that part of the country. + +"Listen, Ralph," Ruth said, "they're cutting neck at Treligga." + +Cutting neck means cutting the last shock of the year's corn, and is +celebrated by a big shout in the field, and a special supper in the +farmer's kitchen. + +Ralph raised himself from his stooping posture, and his father did the +same. Ruth took her mother's hand in hers, and all four stood and +listened. Clear and distinct across the moonlit fields the words rang-- + +"What have 'ee? What have 'ee?" + +"A neck! A neck!" + +"Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah!" + +Slowly the echoes died over the hills, and then silence reigned again. + +Ralph and David had also cut neck, but they raised no shout over it. +They were in no mood for jubilation. + +Sir John Hamblyn had not spoken yet, nor had his steward been across to +see them. Why those many days of grace, neither David nor Ralph could +surmise. + +It was reported that the squire's daughter was slowly recovering from +her accident, but that many months would elapse before she was quite +well and able to ride again. + +"We shall not have to wait much longer, depend upon it," David said, on +Monday morning, as he and Ralph went out in the fields together; and so +it proved. About ten o'clock a horseman was seen riding up the lane +toward the house. David was the first to catch sight of him. + +"It's the squire himself," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +DAVID SPEAKS HIS MIND + + +Sir John alighted from his horse and threw the reins over the garden +gate, then he walked across the stockyard, and looked at the barn and +the cowsheds, taking particular notice of the state of repair they were +in. After awhile he returned to the dwelling-house and walked round it +deliberately, looking carefully all the time at the roof and windows, +but he did not attempt to go inside. + +David and Ralph watched him from the field, but neither attempted to go +near him. + +"He'll come to us when he has anything to say," David said, with a +little catch in his voice. + +Ralph noticed that his father trembled a good deal, and that he was pale +even to the lips. + +The squire came hurrying across the fields at length, slapping his leg +as he walked with his riding-crop. His face was hard and set, like a man +who had braced himself to do an unpleasant task, and was determined to +carry it through. Ralph watched his face narrowly as he drew near, but +he got no hope or inspiration from it. The squire did not notice him, +but addressed himself at once to David. + +"Good-morning, Penlogan!" he said. "I see you have got down all your +corn." + +"Yes, sir, we cut neck on Saturday night." + +"And not a bad crop either, by the look of it." + +"No, sir, it's pretty middling. The farm is just beginning to show some +fruit for all the labour and money that have been spent on it." + +"Exactly so. Labour and manure always tell in the end. You know, of +course, that the lease has fallen in?" + +"I do, sir. It's hard on the parson at St. Goram, and it's harder lines +on me." + +"Yes, it's rough on you both, I admit. But we can't be against these +things. When the Almighty does a thing, no man can say nay." + +"I'm not so sure that the Almighty does a lot of those things that +people say He does." + +"You're not?" + +"No, sir. I don't see that the parson's son had any call to go out to +Egypt to shoot Arabs, particularly when he knew that my farm hung on his +life." + +"He went at the call of duty," said the squire unctuously; "went to +defend his Queen and country." + +"Don't believe it," said David doggedly. "Neither the Queen nor the +country was in any danger. He went because he had a roving disposition +and no stomach for useful ways." + +"Well, anyhow, he's dead," said the squire, "and naturally we are all +sorry--sorry for his father particularly." + +"I suppose you are not sorry for me?" David questioned. + +"Well, yes; in some respects I am. The luck has gone against you, +there's no denying, and one does not like to see a fellow down on his +luck." + +"Then in that case I presume you do not intend to take advantage of my +bad luck?" + +The squire raised his eyebrows, and his lip curled slightly. + +"I don't quite understand what you mean," he said. + +"Well, it's this way," David said mildly. "According to law this little +farm is now yours." + +"Exactly." + +"But according to right it is not yours--it is mine." + +"Oh, indeed?" + +"You need not say, 'Oh, indeed.' You can see it as clearly as I do. I've +made the farm. I reclaimed it from the waste. I've fenced it and manured +it, and built houses upon it. And what twelve years ago was a furzy down +is now a smiling homestead, and you have not spent a penny piece on it, +and yet you say it is yours." + +"Of course it is mine." + +"Well, I say it isn't yours. It's mine by every claim of equity and +justice." + +"I'm not talking about the claims of equity and justice," the squire +said, colouring violently. "I take my stand on the law of the country; +that's good enough for me. And what's good enough for me ought to be +good enough for you," he added, with a snort. + +"That don't by any means follow," David answered quietly. "The laws of +the land were made by the rich in the interests of the rich. That +they're good for you there is no denying; but for me they're cruel and +oppressive." + +"I don't see it," the squire said, with an impatient shrug of his +shoulders. "You live in a free country, and have all the advantages of +our great institutions." + +"I suppose you call the leasehold system one of our great institutions?" +David questioned. + +"Well, and what then?" + +"I don't see much advantage in living under it," was the reply. + +"You might have something a great deal worse," the squire said angrily. +"The high-and-mighty airs some of you people take on are simply +outrageous." + +"We don't ask for any favours," David said meekly. "But we've a right to +live as well as other people." + +"Nobody denies your right, that I know of." + +"But what am I to do now that my little farm is gone? All the savings of +a lifetime, and all the toil of the last dozen years, fall into your +pocket." + +"I grant that the luck has been against you in this matter. But we have +no right to complain of the ways of Providence. The luck might just as +easily have gone against me as against you." + +"I don't believe in mixing luck and Providence up in that way," David +answered, with averted eyes. "But, as far as I can see, what you call +luck couldn't possibly have gone against you." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you laid down the conditions, and however the thing turned out +you would stand to win." + +"I don't see it." + +"You don't?" And David gave a loud sniff. "Why, if all the 'lives' had +lived till they were eighty, I and mine would not have got our own +back." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" the squire said angrily. "Besides, you agreed to +the conditions." + +"I know it," David answered sadly. "You would grant me no better, and I +was hopeful and ignorant, and looked at things through rose-coloured +glasses." + +"I'm sure the farm has turned out very well," the squire replied, with a +hurried glance round him. + +"It's just beginning to yield some little return," David said, looking +off to the distant fields. "For years it's done little more than pay the +ground rent. But this year it seems to have turned the corner. It ought +to be a good little farm in the future." And David sighed. + +"Yes, it ought to be a good farm, and what is more, it is a good farm," +the squire said fiercely. "Upon my soul, I believe I've let it too +cheap!" + +"You've done what, sir?" David questioned, lifting his head suddenly. + +"I said I believed I had let it too cheap. It's worth more than I am +going to get for it." + +"Do you mean to say you have let it?" David said, in a tone of +incredulity. + +"Of course I have let it. I could have let it five times over, for +there's no denying it's an exceedingly pretty and compact little farm." + +At this point Ralph came forward with white face and trembling lips. + +"Did I hear you tell father that you had let this farm?" he questioned, +bringing the words out slowly and with an effort. + +"My business is with your father only," the squire said stiffly, and +with a curl of the lip. + +"What concerns my father concerns me," Ralph answered quietly, "for my +labour has gone into the farm as well as his." + +"That's nothing to the point," the squire answered stiffly. And he +turned again to David, who stood with blanched face and downcast eyes. + +"I want to make it as easy and pleasant for you as possible," the squire +went on. "So I have arranged that you can stay here till Michaelmas +without paying any rent at all." + +David looked up with an expression of wonder in his eyes, but he did not +reply. + +"Between now and Michaelmas you will be able to look round you," the +squire continued, "and, in case you don't intend to take a farm anywhere +else, you will be able to get your corn threshed and such things as you +don't want to take with you turned into money. William Jenkins, I +understand, is willing to take the root crops at a valuation, also the +straw, which, by the terms of your lease, cannot be taken off the farm." + +"So William Jenkins is to come here, is he?" David questioned suddenly. + +"I have let the farm to him," the squire replied pompously, "and, as I +have before intimated, he will take possession at Michaelmas." + +"It is an accursed and a cruel shame!" Ralph blurted out vehemently. + +The squire started and looked at him. + +"And why could you not have let the farm to me?" David questioned +mildly, "or, at any rate, given me the refusal of it? You said just now +that you were sorry for me. Is this the way you show your sorrow? Is +this doing to others as you would be done by?" + +"I have surely the right to let my own farm to whomsoever I please," the +squire said, in a tone of offended dignity. + +"This farm was not yours to start with," Ralph said, flinging himself in +front of the squire. "Before you enclosed it, it was common land, and +belonged to the people. You had no more right to it than the man in the +moon. But because you were strong, and the poor people had no power to +oppose you, you stole it from them." + +"What is that, young man?" Sir John said, stepping back and striking a +defiant attitude. + +"I said you stole Polskiddy Downs from the people. It had been common +land from time immemorial, and you know it." And Ralph stared him +straight in the eyes without flinching. "You took away the rights of the +people, shut them out from their own, let the land that did not belong +to you, and pocketed the profits." + +"Young man, I'll make you suffer for this insult," Sir John stammered, +white with passion. + +"And God will make you suffer for this insult and wrong to us," Ralph +replied, with flashing eyes. "Do you think that robbing the poor, and +cheating honest people out of their rights, will go unpunished?" + +Sir John raised his riding-crop suddenly, and struck at Ralph with all +his might. Ralph caught the crop in his hand, and wrenched it from his +grasp, then deliberately broke it across his knee and flung the pieces +from him. + +[Illustration: "SIR JOHN RAISED HIS HUNTING-CROP, AND STRUCK AT RALPH +WITH ALL HIS MIGHT."] + +For several moments the squire seemed too astonished either to speak or +move. In all his life before he had never been so insulted. He glowered +at Ralph, and looked him up and down, but he did not go near him. He was +no match for this young giant in physical strength. + +David seemed almost as much astonished as the squire. He looked at his +son, but he did not open his lips. + +The squire recovered his voice after a few moments. + +"If I had been disposed to deal generously with you----" he began. + +"You never were so disposed," Ralph interposed bitingly. "You did your +worst before you came. We understand now why you kept away so long. I +wonder you are not ashamed to show your face here now." + +"Cannot you put a muzzle on this wild beast?" the squire said, turning +to David. + +"He has not spoken to you very respectfully," David replied slowly, "but +there's no denying the truth of much that he has said." + +"Indeed! Then let me tell you I am glad you will have to clear out of +the parish." + +"You would have been glad if I could have been cleared out of the parish +before the last election," David said insinuatingly. + +"I have never interfered with your politics since you came." + +"You had no right to; but you've intimidated a great many others, as +everybody in the division knows." + +Sir John grew violently red again, and turned on his heel. He had meant +to be conciliatory when he came, and to prove to David, if possible, +that he had dealt by him very considerately, and even generously. But +the tables had been turned on him unexpectedly, and he had been insulted +to his face. + +"This is the result of the Board schools," he reflected to himself +angrily. "I always said that education would be the ruin of the working +classes. They learn enough to make them impertinent and discontented, +and then they are flung adrift to insult their betters and undermine our +most sacred institutions. That young fellow will be a curse to society +if he's allowed to go on. If I could have my way, I'd lock him up for a +year. He's evidently infected his father with his notions, and he'll go +on infecting other people." And he faced round again, with an angry look +in his eyes. + +"I'm sorry I took the trouble to come and speak to you at all," he said. +"I did it in good part, and with the best intentions. I wanted to show +you that my action is strictly within the law, and that in letting you +remain till Michaelmas I was doing a generous thing. But clearly my good +feeling and good intentions are thrown away." + +"Good feelings are best shown in kind deeds," David said quietly. "If +you had come to me and said, 'David, you are unfortunate, but as your +loss is my gain, I won't insist on the pound of flesh the law allows me, +but I'll let you have the farm for another eight or ten years on the +ground rent alone, so that you can recoup yourself a little for all your +expenditure'--if you had said that, sir, I should have believed in your +good feelings. But since you have let the little place over my head, and +turned me out of the house I built and paid for out of my own earnings, +I think, sir, the less said about your good feelings the better." + +"As you will," the squire replied stiffly, and in a hurt tone. "As you +refuse to meet me in a friendly spirit, you must not be surprised if I +insist upon my own to the full. My agent will see you about putting the +place in proper repair. I notice that one of the sheds is slated only +about half-way up, the remainder being covered with corrugated iron. You +will see to it that the entire roof is properly slated. The stable door +is also worn out, and will have to be replaced by a new one. I noticed, +also, as I rode along, that several of the gates are sadly out of +repair. These, by the terms of the lease, you will be required to make +good. If I mistake not, also the windows and doors of the dwelling-house +are in need of a coat of paint. I did not go inside, but my agent will +go over the place and make an inventory of the things requiring to be +done." + +"He may make out twenty inventories if he likes," David said angrily, +"but I shan't do a stitch more to the place than I've done already." + +"Oh, well, that is not a point we need discuss," the squire said, with a +cynical smile. "The man who attempts to defy the law soon discovers +which is the stronger." And with a wave of the hand, he turned on his +heel and strode away. + +David stood still and stared after him, and after a few moments Ralph +stole up to his side. + +"Well, Ralph, my boy," David said at length, with a little shake in his +voice, "he's done his worst." + +"It's only what I expected," Ralph answered. "Now, we've got to do our +best." + +David shook his head. + +"There's no more best in this world for me," he said. + +"Don't say that, father. Wherever we go we shan't work harder than we've +done on the farm." + +"Ah, but here I've worked for myself. I've been my own master, with no +one to hector me. And I've loved the place and I've loved the work. And +I've put so much of my life into it that it seems like part of myself. +Boy, it will break my heart!" And the tears welled suddenly up into his +eyes and rolled down his cheeks. + +Ralph did not reply. He felt that he had no word of comfort to offer. +None of them as yet felt the full weight of the blow. They would only +realise how much they had lost when they had to wander forth to a +strange place, and see strangers occupying the home they loved. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CONFLICTING EMOTIONS + + +Two days later Sir John's agent came across to Hillside Farm, and made a +careful inspection of the premises, after which he made out a list of +repairs that needed doing, and handed it to David. + +"What is this?" David asked, taking the paper without looking at it. + +"It is a list of repairs that you will have to execute before leaving +the place." + +"Oh, indeed!" And David deliberately tore the paper in half, then threw +the pieces on the ground and stamped upon them. + +"That's foolish," the agent said, "for you'll have to do the repairs +whether you like it or no." + +"I never will," David answered vehemently. And he turned on his heel and +walked away. + +In the end, the agent got the repairs done himself, and distrained upon +David's goods for the amount. + +By Michaelmas Day David was ready to take his departure. Since his +interview with the squire he had never been seen to smile. He made no +complaint to anyone, neither did he sit in idleness and mope. There was +a good deal to be done before the final scene, and he did his full share +of it. The corn was threshed and sold. The cattle were disposed of at +Summercourt Fair. The root crops and hay were taken at a valuation by +the incoming tenant. The farm implements were disposed of at a public +auction, and when all the accounts had been squared, and the mortgage +cleared off, and the ground rent paid, David found himself in possession +of his household furniture and thirty pounds in hard cash. + +David's neighbours sympathised with him greatly, but none of them gave +any more for what they bought than they could help. They admitted that +things went dirt cheap, that the cattle and implements were sold for a +great deal less than their real value; but that was inevitable in a +forced sale. When the seller was compelled to sell, and there was no +reserve, and the buyers were not compelled to buy, and there was very +little competition, the seller was bound to get the worst of it. + +David looked sadly at the little heap of sovereigns--all that was left +out of the savings of a lifetime. He had spent a thousand pounds on the +farm, and, in addition, had put in twelve years of the hardest work of +his life, and this was all that was left. What he thought no one knew, +not even his wife, for he kept his thoughts and his feelings to himself. + +The day before their departure, David took Ralph for a walk to the +extreme end of the farm. + +"I have something to tell you, my boy, and something to show you." + +Ralph wondered what there was to see that he had not already seen, but +he asked no questions. + +"You may remember, Ralph," David said, when they had got some distance +from the house, "that I told you once that I had discovered a tin lode +running across the farm?" + +"Yes, I remember well," Ralph answered, looking up with an interested +light in his eyes. + +"I want to show it to you, my boy." + +"Why, what's the use?" Ralph questioned, after a momentary pause. "If it +were a reef of gold it would be of no value to us." + +"Yes, that seems true enough now," David answered sadly, "but there's no +knowing what may happen in the future." + +"I don't see how we can ever benefit by it, whatever may happen." + +"I am not thinking of myself, Ralph. My day's work is nearly over. But +new conditions may arise, new discoveries may be made, and if you know, +you may be able to sell your knowledge for something." + +Ralph shook his head dubiously, and for several minutes they tramped +along side by side in silence. + +Then David spoke again. + +"It is farewell to-day, my boy. We shall toil in these fields no more." + +"That fact by itself does not trouble me," Ralph said. + +"You do not like farming," his father answered. "You never did; and +sometimes I have felt sorry to keep you here, and yet I could not spare +you. You have done the work of two, and you have done it for your bare +keep." + +"I have done it for the squire," Ralph answered, with a cynical laugh. + +"Ah, well, it is over now, my boy, and we know the worst. In a few years +nothing will matter, for we shall all be asleep." + +Ralph glanced suddenly at his father, but quickly withdrew his eyes. +There was a look upon his face that hurt him--a look as of some hunted +creature that was appealing piteously for life. + +For weeks past Ralph had wished that his father would get angry. If he +would only storm and rave at fortune generally, and at the squire in +particular, he believed that it would do him good. Such calm and quiet +resignation did not seem natural or healthy. Ralph sometimes wondered if +what his father predicted had come true--that the loss had broken his +heart. + +They reached the outer edge of the farm at length, and David paused in +the shadow of a tree. + +"Come here, my boy," he said. And Ralph went and stood by his side. "You +see the parlour chimney?" David questioned. + +"Yes." + +"Well, now draw a straight line from this tree to the parlour chimney, +and what do you strike?" + +"Well, nothing except a gatepost over there in Stone Close." + +"That's just it. It was while I was digging a pit to sink that post in +that I struck the back of the lode." + +"And you say it's rich in tin?" + +"Very. It intersects the big Helvin lode at that point, and the junction +makes for wealth. There'll be a fortune made out of this little farm +some day--not out of what grows on the surface, but out of what is dug +up from underground." + +"And in which direction does the lode run?" + +"Due east and west. We are standing on it now, and it passes under the +house." + +"Then it passes under Peter Ladock's farm also?" Ralph questioned. And +he turned and looked over the boundary hedge across their neighbour's +farm. + +"Ay; but the lode's no use out there," David said. + +"Why?" + +"Well, you see, 'tisn't mineral-bearing strata, that's all. I dug a pit +just where you are standing, and came upon the lode two feet below the +surface. But there's no tin in it here scarcely. It's the same lode that +the spring comes out of down in the delf, and I've sampled it there. But +all along that high ridge where it cuts through the Helvin it's richer +than anything I know in this part of the county." + +"But the tin might give out as you sink." + +"It might, but it would be something unheard of, if it did. If I know +anything about mining--and I think I know a bit--that lode will be +twenty per cent. richer a hundred fathoms down than it is at the +surface." + +"Oh, well!" Ralph said, with a sigh, "rich or poor, it can make no +difference to us." + +"Perhaps not--perhaps not," David said wistfully. "But it may be +valuable to somebody some day. I have passed the secret to you. Some day +you may pass it on to another. The future is with God," and he drew a +long breath, and turned his face toward home, which in a few hours would +be his home no more. + +Ralph turned his face in another direction. + +"I think I will go on to St. Goram," he said, "and see how they are +getting on with the cottage. You see we have to move into it to-morrow." + +"As you will," David answered, and he strode away across the stubble. + +Ralph struck across the fields into Dingley Bottom, and then up the +gentle slant toward Treliskey Plantation. When he reached the stile he +rested for several minutes, and recalled the meeting and conversation +between Dorothy Hamblyn and himself. How long ago it seemed, and how +much had happened since then. + +Though he loathed the very name of Hamblyn, he was, nevertheless, +thankful that the squire's daughter was getting slowly better. She had +been seen once or twice in St. Goram in a bath-chair, drawn by a donkey. +"Looking very pale and so much older," the villagers said. + +By all the rules of logic and common sense, Ralph felt that he ought not +only to hate the squire, but everybody belonging to him. Sir John was +the tyrant of the parish, the oppressor of the poor, the obstructor of +everything that was for the good of the people, and no doubt his +daughter had inherited his temper and disposition; while as for the son, +people said that he gave promise of being worse than his father. + +But for some reason Ralph was never able to work up any angry feeling +against Dorothy. He hardly knew why. She had given evidence of being as +imperious and dictatorial as any autocrat could desire. She had spoken +to him as if he were her stable boy. + +And yet---- + +He recalled how he had rested her fair head upon his lap, how he had +carried her in his arms and felt her heart beating feebly against his, +how he had given her to drink down in the hollow, and when he lifted her +up again she clasped her arms feebly about his neck, and he felt her +cheek almost close to his. + +It is true he did not know then that she was the squire's daughter, and +so he let his sympathies go out to her unawares. But the curious thing +was he had not been able to recall his sympathy, though he had +discovered directly after that she was the daughter of the man he hated +above all others. + +As he made his way across the broad and billowy common towards the high +road, he found himself wondering what Lord Probus was like. By all the +laws and considerations of self-interest, he ought to have been +wondering how he and his father were to earn their living--for, as yet, +that was a problem that neither of them had solved. But for a moment it +was a relief to forget the sorrowful side of life, and think of +something else. And, as he had carried Dorothy Hamblyn in his arms every +step of the way down the high road, it was the most natural thing in the +world that his thoughts should turn in her direction, and from her to +the man she had promised to marry. + +For some reason or other he felt a little thrill of satisfaction that +the wedding had not taken place, and that there was no prospect of its +taking place for several months to come. + +Not that it could possibly make any difference to him; only he did not +see why the rich and strong should always have their heart's desire, +while others, who had as much right to live as they had, were cheated +all along the line. + +Who Lord Probus was Ralph had not the slightest idea. He was a +comparatively new importation. He had bought Rostrevor Castle from the +Penwarricks, who had fallen upon evil times, and had restored it at +great expense. But beyond that Ralph knew nothing. + +That he was a young man Ralph took for granted. An elderly bachelor +would not want to marry, and a young girl like Dorothy Hamblyn would +never dream of marrying an elderly man. + +To Ralph Penlogan it seemed almost a sin that a mere child, as Dorothy +seemed to be, should think of marriage at all. But since she was going +to get married, it was perfectly natural to assume that she was going to +marry a young man. + +He reached the high road at length, and then hurried forward with long +strides in the direction of St. Goram. + +The cottage they had taken was at the extreme end of the village, and, +curiously enough, was in the neighbouring parish of St. Ivel. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PREPARING TO GO + + +Almost close to St. Goram were the lodge gates of Hamblyn Manor. The +manor itself was at the end of a long and winding avenue, and behind a +wide belt of trees. As Ralph reached the lodge gates he walked a little +more slowly, then paused for a moment and looked at the lodge with its +quaint gables, its thatched roof and overhanging eaves. Beyond the gates +the broad avenue looked very majestic and magnificently rich in colour. +The yellow leaves were only just beginning to fall, while the evergreens +looked all the greener by contrast with the reds and browns. + +He turned away at length, and came suddenly face to face with "the +squire's little maid." She was seated in her rubber-tyred bath-chair, +which was drawn by a white donkey. By the side of the donkey walked a +boy in buttons. Ralph almost gasped. So great a change in so short a +time he had never witnessed before. Only eight or nine weeks had passed +since the accident, and yet they seemed to have added years to her life. +She was only a girl when he carried her from Treliskey Plantation down +to the high road. Now she was a woman with deep, pathetic eyes, and +cheeks hollowed with pain. + +Ralph felt the colour mount to his face in a moment, and his heart +stabbed him with a sudden poignancy of regret. He wished again, as he +had wished many times during the last two months, that he had pocketed +his pride and opened the gate. It might be quite true that she had no +right to speak to him as she did, quite true also that it was the most +natural and human thing in the world to resent being spoken to as though +he were a serf. Nevertheless, the heroic thing--the divine thing--would +have been to return good for evil, and meet arrogance with generosity. + +He would have passed on without presuming to recognise her, but she +would not let him. + +"Stop, James," she called to the boy; and then she smiled on Ralph ever +so sweetly, and held out her hand. + +For a moment a hot wave of humiliation swept over him from head to foot. +He seemed to realise for the first time in his life what was meant by +heaping coals of fire on one's head. He had the whole contents of a +burning fiery furnace thrown over him. He was being scorched through +every fibre of his being. + +At first he almost resented the humiliation. Then another feeling took +possession of him, a feeling of admiration, almost of reverence. Here +was nobleness such as he himself had failed to reach. Here was one high +in the social scale, and higher still in grace and goodness, +condescending to him, who had indirectly been the cause of all her +suffering. Then in a moment his mood changed again to resentment. This +was the daughter of the man who had broken his father's heart. But a +moment ago he had looked into his father's hopeless, suffering eyes, and +felt as though it would be the sweetest drop of his life if he could +make John Hamblyn and all his tribe suffer as he had made them suffer. + +But even as he reached out his hard brown hand to take the pale and +wasted one that was extended to him, the pendulum swung back once more; +the better and nobler feeling came back. The large sad eyes that looked +up into his had in them no flash of pride or arrogance. The smile that +played over her wan, pale face seemed as richly benevolent as the +sunshine of God. Possibly she knew nothing of the calamity that had +overtaken him and his, a calamity that her father might have so +wonderfully lightened, and at scarcely any cost to himself, had he been +so disposed. But it was not his place to blame the child for what her +father had done or left undone. + +The soft, thin fingers were enveloped in his big strong palm, and then +his eyes filled. A lump came up into his throat and prevented him from +speaking. Never in all his life before had he seemed so little master of +himself. + +Then a low, sweet voice broke the silence, and all his self-possession +came back to him. + +"I am so glad I have met you." + +"Yes?" he questioned. + +"I wanted to thank you for saving my life." + +He dropped his eyes slowly, and a hot wave swept over him from head to +foot. + +"Dr. Barrow says if you had not found me when you did I should have +died." And she looked at him as if expecting an answer. But he did not +reply or even raise his head. + +"And you carried me such a long distance, too," she went on, after a +pause; "and I heard Dr. Barrow tell the nurse that you bound up my head +splendidly." + +"You were not much to carry," he said, raising his head suddenly. +"But--but you are less now." And his voice sank almost to a whisper. + +"I have grown very thin," she said, with a wan smile. "But the doctor +says I shall get all right again with time and patience." + +"I hoped you would have got well much sooner," he said, looking timidly +into her face. "I have suffered a good deal during your illness." + +"You?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "Why?" + +"Because if I had not been surly and boorish, the accident would not +have happened. If you had died, I should never have forgiven myself." + +"No, no; it was not your fault at all," she said quickly. "I have +thought a good deal about it while I have been ill, and I have learnt +some things that I might never have learnt any other way, and I see now +that--that----" And she dropped her eyes to hide the moisture that had +suddenly gathered. "I see now that it was very wrong of me to speak to +you as I did." + +"You were reared to command," he said, ready in a moment to champion her +cause, "and I ought to have considered that. Besides, it isn't a man's +place to be rude to a girl--I beg your pardon, miss, I mean to a----" + +"No, no," she interrupted, with a laugh; "don't alter the word, please. +If I feel almost an old woman now, I was only a girl then. How much we +may live in a few weeks! Don't you think so?" + +"You have found that out, have you?" he questioned. And a troubled look +came into his eyes. + +"You see, lying in bed, day after day and week after week, gives one +time to think----" + +"Yes?" he questioned, after a brief pause. + +She did not reply for several seconds; then she went on as if there had +been no break. "I don't think I ever thought seriously about anything +before I was ill. I took everything as it came, and as most things were +good, I just enjoyed myself, and there seemed nothing else in the world +but just to enjoy one's self----" + +"There's not much enjoyment for most people," he said, seeing she +hesitated. + +"I don't think enjoyment ought to be the end of life," she replied +seriously. Then, suddenly raising her eyes, she said-- + +"Do you ever get perplexed about the future?" + +"I never get anything else," he stammered. "I'm all at sea this very +moment." + +"You? Tell me about it," she said eagerly. + +He shrugged his shoulders, and looked along the road toward the village. +Should he tell her? Should he open her eyes to the doings of her own +father? Should he point out some of the oppressive conditions under +which the poor lived? + +For a moment or two there was silence. He felt that her eyes were fixed +intently on his face, that she was waiting for him to speak. + +"I suppose your father has never told you that we have lost our little +farm?" he questioned abruptly, turning his head and looking hard at her +at the same time. + +"No. How have you lost it? I do not understand." + +"Well, it was this way." And he went on to explain the nature of the +tenure on which his father leased his farm, but he was careful to avoid +any mention of her father's name. + +"And you say that in twelve years all the three 'lives' have died?" + +"That is unfortunately the case." + +"And you have no longer any right to the house you built, nor to the +fields you reclaimed from the downs?" + +"That is so." + +"And the lord of the manor has taken possession?" + +"He has let it to another man, who takes possession the day after +to-morrow." + +"And the lord of the manor puts the rent into his own pocket?" + +"Yes." + +"And your father has to go out into the world and start afresh?" + +"We leave Hillside to-morrow. I'm going to St. Goram now, to see if the +little cottage is ready. After to-morrow father starts life afresh, in +his old age, having lost everything." + +"But wasn't your father very foolish to risk his all on such a chance? +Life is always such an uncertain thing." + +"I think he was very foolish; and he thinks so now. But at the time he +was very hopeful. He thought the cost of bringing the land under +cultivation would be much less than it has proved to be. He hoped, too, +that the crops would be much heavier. Then, you see, he was born in the +parish, and he wanted to end his days in it--in a little home of his +own." + +"It seems very hard," she said, with a distant look in her eyes. + +"It's terribly hard," he answered; "and made all the harder by the +landlord letting the farm over father's head." + +"He could have let you remain?" + +"Of course he could, if he had been disposed to be generous, or even +just." + +"I've often heard that Lord St. Goram is a very hard man." + +He started, and looked at her with a questioning light in his eyes. + +"He needn't have claimed all his pound of flesh," she went on. "Law +isn't everything. Nobody would have expected that all three 'lives' +would have died in a dozen years." + +"I believe the law of average works out to about forty-seven years," he +said. + +"In which case your father ought to have his farm another thirty-five +years." + +"He ought. In fact, no lease ought to be less than ninety-nine years. +However, the chances of life have gone against father, and so we must +submit." + +"I don't understand any man exacting all his rights in such a case," she +said sympathetically. "If only people would do to others as they would +be done unto, how much happier the world would be!" + +"Ah, if that were the case," he said, with a smile, "soldiers and +policemen and lawyers would find all their occupations gone." + +"But, all the same, what's religion worth if we don't try to put it into +practice? The lord of the manor has, no doubt, the law on his side. He +can legally claim his pound of flesh, but there's no justice in it." + +"It seems to me the strong do not often know what justice means," he +said, with an icy tone in his voice. + +"No; don't say that," she replied, looking at him reproachfully. "I +think most people are really kind and good, and would like to help +people if they only knew how." + +"I'm afraid most people think only of themselves," he answered. + +"No, no; I'm sure----" Then she paused suddenly, while a look of +distress or of annoyance swept over her face. "Why, here comes Lord +Probus," she said, in a lower tone of voice, while the hot blood flamed +up into her pale cheeks in a moment. + +Ralph turned quickly round and looked towards the park gates. + +"Is that Lord Probus?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Good----" But he did not finish the sentence. She looked up into his +face, and saw that it was dark with anger or disgust. Then she glanced +again at the approaching figure of her affianced husband, then back +again to the tall, handsome youth who stood by her side, and for a +moment she involuntarily contrasted the two men. The lord and the +commoner; the rich brewer and the poor, ejected tenant. + +"Please pardon me for detaining you so long," he said hurriedly. + +"You have not detained me at all," she replied. "It has been a pleasure +to talk to you, for the days are very long and very dull." + +"I hope you will soon be as well as ever," he answered; and he turned +quickly on his heel and strode away. + +"And I hope your father will soon----" But the end of the sentence did +not reach his ears. For the moment he was not concerned about himself. +The tragedy of his own life seemed of small account. It was the tragedy +of her life that troubled him. It seemed a wicked thing that this +fragile girl--not yet out of her teens--should marry a man old enough +almost to be her grandfather. + +What lay behind it, he wondered? What influences had been brought to +bear upon her to win her consent? Was she going of her own free will +into this alliance, or had she been tricked or coerced? + +He recalled again the picture of her when she sat on her horse in the +glow of the summer sunshine. She was only a girl then--a heedless, +thoughtless, happy girl, who did not know what life meant, and who in +all probability had never given five minutes' serious thought to its +duties and responsibilities. But eight or nine weeks of suffering had +wrought a great change in her. She was a woman now, facing life +seriously and thoughtfully. Did she regret, he wondered, the promise she +had made? Was she still willing to be the wife of this old man? + +Ralph felt the blood tingling to his finger-tips. It was no business of +his. What did it matter to him what Sir John Hamblyn or any of his tribe +did, or neglected to do? If Dorothy Hamblyn chose to marry a Chinaman or +a Hindoo, that was no concern of his. He had no interest in her, and +never would have. + +He pulled himself up again at that point. He had no interest in her, it +was true, and yet he was interested--more interested than in any other +girl he had ever seen. So interested, in fact, that nothing could happen +to her without it affecting him. + +He reached the cottage at length at the far end of the village. It was +but a tiny crib, but it was the best they could get at so short a +notice, and they would not have got that if Sir John Hamblyn could have +had his way. + +Ralph could hardly repress a groan when he stepped over the threshold. +It was so painfully small after their roomy house at Hillside. The +whitewashers and paperhangers had just finished, and were gathering up +their tools, and a couple of charwomen were scouring the floors. + +A few minutes later there was a patter on the uncarpeted stairs, and +Ruth appeared, with red eyes and dishevelled hair. + +"There seems nothing that I can do," he said, without appearing to +notice that she had been crying. + +"Not to-day," she answered, looking past him; "but there will be plenty +for you to do to-morrow." + +Half an hour later they walked away together toward Hillside Farm, but +neither was in the mood for conversation. Ralph looked up the drive +towards Hamblyn Manor as they passed the park gates, but no one was +about, and the name of Hamblyn was not mentioned. + +During the rest of the day all the Penlogans were kept busy getting +things ready for the carts on the morrow. To any bystander it would have +been a pathetic sight to see how each one tried to keep his or her +trouble from the rest, and even to wear a cheerful countenance. + +Neither talked of the past, nor uttered any word of regret, but they +planned where this piece of furniture should be placed in the new house, +and where that, and speculated as to how the wardrobe should be got up +the narrow stairs, and in which room the big chest of drawers should be +placed. + +David seemed the least interested of the family. He sat for the most +part like one dazed, and watched the others in a vague, unseeing way. +Ruth and her mother bustled about the house, pretending to do a dozen +things, and talked all the while about the fittings and curtains and +pictures. + +When evening came on, and there was no longer any room for pretence, +they sat together in the parlour before a fire of logs, for the air was +chilly, and the wind had risen considerably. No one attempted to break +the silence, but each one knew what the others were thinking about. The +wind rumbled in the chimney and whispered through the chinks of the +window, but no one heeded it. + +This was to be their last evening together in the old home, which they +had learned to love so much, and the pathos of the situation was too +deep for words. They were silent, and apparently calm, not because they +were resigned, but because they were helpless. They had schooled +themselves not to resignation, but to endurance. They could be silent, +but they could never approve. The loathing they felt for John Hamblyn +grew hour by hour. They could have seen him gibbeted with a sense of +infinite satisfaction. + +The day faded quickly in the west, and the firelight alone illumined the +room. Ralph, from his corner by the chimney-breast, could see the faces +of all the others. Ruth looked sweeter and almost prettier than he had +ever seen her. The chastening hand of sorrow had softened the look in +her dark-brown eyes and touched with melancholy the curves of her rich, +full lips. His mother had aged rapidly. She looked ten years older than +she did ten weeks ago. Trouble had ploughed its furrows deep, and all +the light of hope had gone out of her eyes. But his father was the most +pathetic figure of all. Ralph looked across at him every now and then, +and wondered if he would ever rouse himself again. He looked so worn, so +feeble, so despairing, it would have been a relief to see him get angry. + +Ruth had got up at length and lighted the lamp and drew the blind; then, +without a word, sat down again. The wind continued to rumble in the +chimney and sough in the trees outside; but, save for that, no sound +broke the silence. There were no sheep in the pens, no cows in the +shippen, no horses in the stable, and no neighbour came in to say +good-bye. + +The evening wore away until it grew late. Then David rose and got the +family Bible and laid it on the table, so that the light of the lamp +fell upon its pages. + +Drawing up his chair, he sat down and began to read-- + +"'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.'" + +His voice did not falter in the least. Quietly, and without emphasis, he +read the psalm through to the end; then he knelt on the floor, with his +hands on the chair, the others following his example. His prayer was +very simple that night. He made no direct allusion to the great trouble +that was eating at all their hearts. He gave thanks for the mercies of +the day, and asked for strength to meet the future. + +"Now, my dears," he said, as he rose from his knees, "we had better get +off to bed." And he smiled with great sweetness, and Ruth recalled +afterwards how he kissed her several times. + +But if he had any premonition of what was coming, he did not betray it +by a single word. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +RALPH SPEAKS HIS MIND + + +It was toward the dawn when Ralph was roused out of a deep sleep by a +violent knocking at his bedroom door. + +"Yes," he called, springing up in bed and staring into the +semi-darkness. + +"Come quickly; your father is very ill!" It was his mother who spoke, +and her voice was vibrant and anxious. + +He sprang out of bed at once, and hurriedly got into his clothes. In a +few moments he was by his father's bedside. + +At first he thought that his mother had alarmed herself and him +unnecessarily. David lay on his side as if asleep. + +"I cannot rouse him," she said in gasps. "I've tried every way, but he +doesn't move." + +Ralph laid his hand on his father's shoulder and shook him, but there +was no response of any kind. + +"He must be dead," his mother said. + +"No, no. He breathes quite regularly," Ralph answered, and he took the +candle and held it where the light fell full on his father's eyelids. +For a moment there was a slight tremor, then his eyes slowly opened, and +a look of infinite appeal seemed to dart out of them. + +"He has had a stroke," Ralph answered, starting back. "He is paralysed. +Call Ruth, and I will go for the doctor at once." + +Twenty-four hours later David was sufficiently recovered to scrawl on a +piece of paper with a black lead pencil the words-- + +"I shall die at home. Praise the Lord!" + +He watched intently the faces of his wife and children as they read the +words, and a smile played over his own. It seemed to be a smile of +triumph. He was not going to live in the cottage after all. He was going +to end his days where he had always hoped to do, and no one could cheat +him out of that victory. + +Ralph sat down by the bedside and took his father's hand. The affection +between the two was very tender. They had been more than father and son, +they had been friends and comrades. Ruth and her mother ran out of the +room to hide their tears. They did not want to distress the dying man by +obtruding their grief. + +For several minutes Ralph was unable to speak. David never took his eyes +from his face. He seemed waiting for some assurance that his message was +understood. + +"We understand, father," Ralph said at length. "No one can turn you out +now." + +David smiled again. Then the tears filled his eyes and rolled down his +cheeks. + +"You always wanted to end your days here," Ralph went on, "and it looks +as if you were going to do it." + +David raised the hand that was not paralysed and pointed upward. + +"There are no leasehold systems there, at any rate," Ralph said, with a +gulp. "The earth is the landlord's, but heaven is God's." + +David smiled again, and then closed his eyes. Three hours later a second +stroke supervened, and stilled his heart for ever. + +Ralph walked slowly out of the room and into the open air. He felt +thankful for many reasons that his father was at rest. And yet, in his +heart the feeling grew that John Hamblyn had killed him, and there +surged up within him an intense and burning passion to make John Hamblyn +suffer something of what he himself was suffering. Why should he go scot +free? Why should he live unrebuked, and his conscience be left +undisturbed? + +For a moment or two Ralph stood in the garden and looked up at the +clouds that were scudding swiftly across the sky. Then he flung open the +gate and struck out across the fields. The wind battered and buffeted +him and almost took his breath away, but it did not weaken his resolve +for a moment. He would go and tell John Hamblyn what he had done--tell +him to his face that he had killed his father; ay, and tell him that as +surely as there was justice in the world he would not go unpunished. + +Over the brow of the hill he turned, and down into Dingley Bottom, and +then up the long slant toward Treliskey Plantation. He scarcely heeded +the wind that was blowing half a gale, and appeared to be increasing in +violence every minute. + +The gate that Dorothy's horse had broken had been mended long since, and +the notice board repainted: + +"Trespassers will be Prosecuted." + +He gritted his teeth unconsciously as the white letters stared him in +the face. He had heard his father tell that from time immemorial here +had been a public thoroughfare, till Sir John took the law into his own +hands, and flung a gate across it and warned the public off with a +threat of prosecution. + +But what cared he about the threat? John Hamblyn could prosecute him if +he liked. He was going to tell him what he thought of him, and he was +going the nearest way. + +He vaulted lightly over the gate, and hurried along without a pause. In +the shadow of the trees he scarcely felt the violence of the wind, but +he heard it roaring in the branches above him, like the sound of an +incoming tide. + +He reached the manor, and pulled violently at the door bell. + +"Is your master at home?" he said to the boy in buttons who opened the +door. + +"Yes----" + +"Then tell him I want to see him at once," he went on hurriedly, and he +followed the boy into the hall. + +A moment later he was standing before Sir John in his library. + +The baronet looked at him with a scowl. He disliked him intensely, and +had never forgiven him for being the cause--as he believed--of his +daughter's accident. Moreover, he had no proper respect for his betters, +and withal possessed a biting tongue. + +"Well, young man, what brought you here?" he said scornfully. + +"I came on foot," was the reply, and Ralph threw as much scorn into his +voice as the squire had done. + +"Oh, no doubt--no doubt!" the squire said, bridling. "But I have no time +to waste in listening to impertinences. What is your business?" + +"I came to tell you that my father is dead." + +"Dead!" Sir John gasped. "No, surely? I never heard he was ill!" + +"He was taken with a stroke early yesterday morning, and he died an hour +ago." + +"Only an hour ago? Dear me!" + +"I came straight away from his deathbed to let you know that you had +killed him." + +"That I had killed him!" Sir John exclaimed, with a gasp. + +"You might have seen it in his face, when you told him that you had let +the farm over his head, and that he was to be turned out of the little +home he had built with his own hands." + +"I gave him fair notice, more than he could legally claim," Sir John +said, looking very white and distressed. + +"I am not talking about the law," Ralph said hurriedly. "If you had +behaved like a Christian, my father would have been alive to-day. But +the blow you struck him killed him. He never smiled again till this +morning, when he knew he was dying. I am glad he is gone. But as surely +as you punished us, God will punish you." + +"What, threatening, young man?" Sir John replied, stepping back and +clenching his fists. + +"No, I am not threatening," Ralph said quietly. "But as surely as you +stand there, and I stand here, some day we shall be quits," and he +turned on his heel and walked out of the room. + +Outside the wind was roaring like an angry lion and snapping tree +branches like matchwood. A little distance from the house he met a +gardener, who told him there was no road through the plantation. But +Ralph only smiled at him and walked on. + +He was feeling considerably calmer since his interview with Sir John. It +had been a relief to him to fling off what was on his mind. He was +conscious that his heart was less bitter and revengeful. He only thought +once of Dorothy, and he quickly dismissed her from his mind. He wished +that he could dismiss her so effectually that the thought of her would +never come back. It was something of a humiliation that constantly, and +in the most unexpected ways, her face came up before him, and her sweet, +winning eyes looked pleadingly and sometimes reproachfully into his. + +But he was master of himself to-day. At any rate he was so far master of +himself that no thought of the squire's "little maid" could soften his +heart toward the squire. He hurried back home at the same swinging pace +as he came. It was a house of mourning to which he journeyed, but his +mother and Ruth would need him. He was the only one now upon whom they +could lean, and he would have to play the man, and make the burden for +them as light as possible. + +He scarcely heeded the wind. His thoughts were too full of other things. +In the heart of the plantation the branches were still snapping as the +trees bent before the fury of the gale. He rather liked the sound. +Nature was in an angry mood, and it accorded well with his own temper. +It would have been out of place if the wind had slept on the day his +father died. + +He was hardly able to realise yet that his father was dead. It seemed +too big and too overwhelming a fact to be comprehended all at once. It +seemed impossible that that gentle presence had gone from him for ever. +He wondered why he did not weep. Surely no son ever loved a father more +than he did, and yet no tear had dimmed his eyes as yet, no sob had +gathered in his throat. + +Over his head the branch of a tree flew past that had been ripped by the +gale from its moorings. + +"Hallo," he said, with a smile. "This is getting serious," and he turned +into the middle of the road and hurried on again. + +A moment or two later a sudden blow on the head struck him to the earth. +For several seconds he lay perfectly still just where he fell. Then a +sharp spasm of pain caused him to sit up and stare about him with a +bewildered expression in his eyes. What had happened he did not know. He +raised his right hand to his head almost mechanically--for the seat of +the pain was there--then drew it slowly away and looked at it. It was +dyed red and dripping wet. + +He struggled to his feet after a few moments, and tried to walk. It was +largely an unconscious effort, for he did not know where he was, or +where he wanted to go to; and when he fell again and struck the hard +ground with his face, he was scarcely aware that he had fallen. + +In a few minutes he was on his feet again, but the world was dark by +this time. Something had come up before his eyes and shut out +everything. A noise was in his ears, but it was not the roaring of the +wind in the trees; he reeled and stumbled heavily with his head against +a bank of heather. Then the noise grew still, and the pain vanished, and +there was a sound in his ears like the ringing of St. Goram bells, which +grew fainter till oblivion wrapped him in its folds. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +UNCONSCIOUS SPEECH + + +Ralph had scarcely left the house when Dorothy sought her father in the +library. He was walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, and a +troubled expression in his eyes. He was much more distressed than he +liked to own even to himself. To be told to his face that he had caused +the death of one of his tenants would, under some circumstances, have +simply made him angry. But in the present case he felt, much more +acutely than was pleasant, that there was only too much reason for the +contention. + +That David Penlogan had loved his little homestead there was no doubt +whatever. He had poured into it not only the savings of a lifetime and +the ungrudging labour of a dozen years, but he had poured into it the +affection of a generous and confiding nature. There was something almost +sentimental in David's affection for his little farm, and to have to +leave it was a heavier blow than he was able to bear. That his +misfortune had killed him seemed not an unreasonable supposition. + +"But I am not responsible for that," Sir John said to himself angrily. +"I had no hand in killing off the 'lives.' That was a decree of +Providence." + +But in spite of his reasoning, he could not shake himself free from an +uneasy feeling that he was in some way responsible. + +Legally, no doubt, he had acted strictly within his rights. He had +exacted no more than in point of law was his due, but might there not be +a higher law than the laws of men? That was the question that troubled +him, and it troubled him for the first time in his life. + +He was a very loyal citizen. He had been taught to regard Acts of +Parliament as something almost as sacred as the Ark of the Covenant, and +the authority of the State as supreme in all matters of human conduct. +Now for the first time a doubt crept into his mind, and it made him feel +decidedly uncomfortable. Man-made laws might, after all, have little or +no moral force behind them. Selfish men might make laws just to protect +their own selfish interests. + +Legally, man's law backed him up in the position he had taken. But where +did God's law come in? He knew his Bible fairly well. He was a regular +church-goer, and followed the lessons Sunday by Sunday with great +diligence. And he felt, with a poignant sense of alarm, that Jesus +Christ would condemn what he had done. There was no glimmer of the +golden rule to be discerned in his conduct. He had not acted generously, +nor even neighbourly. He had extorted the uttermost farthing, not +because he had any moral claim to it, but because laws which men had +made gave him the right. + +He was so excited that his mind worked much more rapidly than was usual +with him. He recalled again Ralph Penlogan's words about God punishing +him and their being quits. He disliked that young man. He ought to have +kicked him out of the house before he had time to utter his insults. But +he had not done so, and somehow his words had stuck. He wished it was +the son who had died instead of the father. David Penlogan, in spite of +his opinions and politics, was a mild and harmless individual; he would +not hurt his greatest enemy if he had the chance. But he was not so sure +of the son. He had a bolder and a fiercer nature, and if he had the +chance he might take the law into his own hands. + +The door opened while these thoughts were passing through his mind, and +his daughter stood before him. He stopped suddenly in his walk, and his +hard face softened. + +"Oh, father, I've heard such a dreadful piece of news," she said, "that +I could not help coming to tell you!" + +"Dreadful news, Dorothy?" he questioned, in a tone of alarm. + +"Well, it seems dreadful to me," she went on. "You heard about the +Penlogans being turned out of house and home, of course?" + +"I heard that he had to leave his farm," he said shortly. + +"Well, the trouble has killed him--broken his heart, people say. He had +a stroke yesterday morning, and now he's dead." + +"Well, people must die some day," he said, with averted eyes. + +"Yes, that is true. But I think if I were in Lord St. Goram's place I +should feel very unhappy." + +"Why should Lord St. Goram feel unhappy?" + +"Well, because he profited by the poor man's misfortune." + +"What do you know about it?" he snapped almost angrily. + +"Only what Ralph Penlogan told me." + +"What, that young rascal who refused to open the gate for you?" + +"That was just as much my fault as his, and he has apologised very +handsomely since." + +"I am surprised, Dorothy, that you condescend to speak to such people," +he said severely. + +"I don't know why you should, father. He is well educated, and has been +brought up, as you know, quite respectably." + +"Educated beyond his station. It's a mistake, and will lead to trouble +in the long-run. But what did he say to you?" + +"I met him as he was walking into St. Goram, and he told me how they had +taken a little cottage, and were going to move into it next day--that +was yesterday. Then, of course, all the story came out, how the vicar's +son was the last 'life' on their little farm, and how, when he died, the +farm became the ground landlord's." + +"And what did he say about the ground landlord?" he questioned. + +"I don't remember his words very well, but he seemed most bitter, +because he had let the farm over their heads, without giving them a +chance of being tenants." + +"Well?" + +"I told him I thought it was a very cruel thing to do. Law is not +everything. David Penlogan had put all his savings into the farm, had +reclaimed the fields from the wilderness, and built the house with his +own money, and the lord of the manor had done nothing, and never spent a +penny-piece on it, and yet, because the chances of life had gone against +David, he comes in and takes possession--demands, like Shylock, his +pound of flesh, and actually turns the poor man out of house and home! I +told Ralph Penlogan that it was wicked--at least, if I did not tell him, +I felt it--and, I am sure, father, you must feel the same." + +Sir John laughed a short, hard laugh. + +"What is the use of the law, Dorothy," he said, "unless it is kept? It +is no use getting sentimental because somebody is hanged." + +"But surely, father, our duty to our neighbour is not to get all we can +out of him?" + +"I'm inclined to think that is the general practice, at any rate," he +said, with a laugh. + +She looked at him almost reproachfully for a moment, and then her eyes +fell. He was quick to see the look of pain that swept over her face, and +hastened to reassure her. + +"You shouldn't worry yourself, Dorothy, about these matters," he said, +in gentler tones. "You really shouldn't. You see, we can't help the +world being what it is. Some are rich and some are poor. Some are weak +and some are strong. Some have trouble all the way, and some have a good +time of it from first to last, and nobody's to blame, as far as I know. +If luck's fallen to our lot, we've all the more to be grateful for, +don't you see. But the world's too big for us to mend, and it's no use +trying. Now, run away, that's a good girl, and be happy as long as you +can." + +She drew herself up to her full height, and looked him steadily in the +eyes. She had grown taller during her illness, and there was now a look +upon her face such as he had never noticed before. + +"I do wish, father," she said slowly, "that you would give over treating +me as though I were a child, and had no mind of my own." + +"Tut, tut!" he said sharply. "What's the matter now?" + +"I mean what I say," she answered, in the same slow and measured +fashion. "I may have been a child up to the time of my illness, but I +have learned a lot since then. I feel like one who has awaked out of a +sleep. My illness has given me time to think. I have got into a new +world." + +"Then, my love, get back into the old world again as quickly as +possible. It's not a bit of use your worrying your little head about +matters you cannot help, and which are past mending. It's your business +to enjoy yourself, and do as you are told, and get all the happiness out +of life that you can." + +"There's no getting back, father," she answered seriously. "And there's +no use in pretending that you don't feel, and that you don't see. I +shall never be a little girl again, and perhaps I shall never be happy +again as I used to be; or, perhaps, I may be happy in a better and +larger way--but that is not the point. You must not treat me as a child +any longer, for I am a woman now." + +"Oh, nonsense!" he said, in a tone of irritation. + +"Why nonsense?" she asked quickly. "If I am old enough to be married, I +am old enough to be a woman----" + +"Oh, I am not speaking of age," he interjected, in the same irritable +tone. "Of course you are old enough to be married, but you are not old +enough--and I hope you never will be--to worry yourself over other +people's affairs. I want my little flower to be screened from all the +rough winds of the world, and I am sure that is the desire of Lord +Probus." + +"There you go again!" she said, with a sad little smile. "I'm only just +a hothouse plant, to be kept under glass. But that is what I don't want. +I don't want to be treated as though I should crumple up if I were +touched--I want to do my part in the world." + +"Of course, my child, and your part is to look pretty and keep the +frowns away from your forehead, and make other folks happy by being +happy yourself." + +"But really, father, I'm not a doll," she said, with just a touch of +impatience in her voice. "I'm afraid I shall disappoint you, but I +cannot help it. I've lived in dreamland all my life. Now I am awake, and +nothing can ever be exactly the same again as it has been." + +"What do you mean by that, Dorothy?" + +"Oh, I mean more than I can put into words," she said, dropping her eyes +slowly to the floor. "Everything is broken up, if you understand. The +old house is pulled down. The old plans and the old dreams are at an +end. What is going to take their place I don't know. Time alone will +tell." And she turned slowly round and walked out of the room. + +An hour later she got into her bath-chair, and went out for her usual +airing. + +"I think, Billy," she said to her attendant, "we will drive through the +plantation this afternoon. The downs will be too exposed to this wind." + +"Yes, miss." + +"In the plantation it will be quite sheltered--don't you think so?" + +"Most of the way it will," he answered; "but there ain't half as much +wind as there was an hour ago." + +"An hour ago it was blowing a gale. If it had kept on like that I +shouldn't have thought of going out at all." + +"Which would have been a pity," Billy answered, with a grin, "for the +sun is a-shinin' beautiful." + +Two or three times Billy had to stop the donkey, while he dragged large +branches out of the way. They were almost on the point of turning back +again when Dorothy said-- + +"Is that the trunk of a tree, Billy, lying across the road?" + +"Well, miss, I was just a-wonderin' myself what it were. It don't look +like a tree exactly." + +"And yet I cannot imagine what else it can be." + +"Shall we drive on that far and see, miss?" + +"I think we had better, Billy, though I did not intend going quite so +far." + +A few minutes later Billy uttered an exclamation. + +"Why, miss, it looks for all the world like a man!" + +"Drive quickly," she said; "I believe somebody's been hurt!" + +It did not take them long to reach the spot where Ralph Penlogan was +lying. Dorothy recognised him in a moment, and forgetting her weakness, +she sprang out of her bath-chair and ran and knelt down by his side. + +He presented a rather ghastly appearance. The extreme pallor of his face +was accentuated by large splotches of blood. His eyelids were partly +open, showing the whites of his eyes. His lips were tightly shut as if +in pain. + +Dorothy wondered at her own calmness and nerve. She had no disposition +to faint or to cry out. She placed her ear close to Ralph's mouth and +remained still for several seconds. Then she sprang quickly to her feet. + +"Unharness the donkey, Billy," she said, in quick, decided tones, "and +ride into St. Goram and fetch Dr. Barrow!" + +"Yes, miss." And in a few seconds Billy was galloping away as fast as +the donkey could carry him. + +Dorothy watched him until he had passed beyond the gate and was out on +the common. Then she turned her attention again to Ralph. That he was +unconscious was clear, but he was not dead. There were evidences also +that he had scrambled a considerable distance after he was struck. + +For several moments she stood and looked at him, then she sat down by +his side. He gave a groan at length and tried to sit up, and she got +closer to him, and made his head comfortable on her lap. + +After a while he opened his eyes and looked with a bewildered expression +into her face. + +"Who are you?" he asked abruptly, and he made another effort to sit up. + +"You had better lie still," she said gently. "You have got hurt, and Dr. +Barrow will be here directly." + +"I haven't got hurt," he said, in decided tones, "and I don't want to +lie still. But who are you?" + +"Don't you remember me?" she questioned. + +"No, I don't," he said, in the same decisive way. "You are not Ruth, and +I don't know who you are, nor why you keep me here." + +"I am not keeping you," she answered quietly. "You are unable to walk, +but I have sent for the doctor, and he will bring help." + +For a while he did not speak, but his eyes searched her face with a +puzzled and baffled look. + +"You are very pretty," he said at length. "But you are not Ruth." + +"No; I am Dorothy Hamblyn," she answered. + +He knitted his brows and looked at her intently, then he tried to shake +his head. + +"Hamblyn?" he questioned slowly. "I hate the Hamblyns--I hate the very +name! All except the squire's little maid," and he closed his eyes, and +was silent for several moments. Then he went on again-- + +"I wish I could hate the squire's little maid too, but I can't. I've +tried hard, but I can't. She's so pretty, and she's to marry an old man, +old enough to be her grandfather. Oh, it's a shame, for he'll break her +heart. If I were only a rich man I'd steal her." + +"Hush, hush!" she said quickly. "Do you know what you are saying?" + +He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her again, but there was no +clear light of recognition in them. For several minutes he talked +incessantly on all sorts of subjects, but in the end he got back to the +question that for the moment seemed to dominate all the rest. + +"You can't be the squire's little maid," he said, "for she is going to +marry an old man. Don't you think it is a sin?" + +"Hush, hush!" she said, in a whisper. + +"I think it's a sin," he went on. "And if I were rich and strong I +wouldn't allow it. I wish she were poor, and lived in a cottage; then I +would work and work, and wait and hope, and--and----" + +"Yes?" she questioned. + +"We would fight the world together," he said, after a long pause. + +She did not reply, but a mist came up before her eyes and blotted out +the surrounding belt of trees, and the noise of the wind seemed to die +suddenly away into silence, and a new world opened up before her--a land +where springtime always dwelt, and beauty never grew old. + +Ralph lay quite still, with his head upon her lap. He appeared to have +relapsed into unconsciousness again. + +She brushed her hand across her eyes at length and looked at him, and as +she did so her heart fluttered strangely and uncomfortably in her bosom. +A curious spell seemed to be upon her. Her nerves thrilled with an +altogether new sensation. She grew almost frightened, and yet she had no +desire to break the spell; the pleasure infinitely exceeded the pain. + +She felt like one who had strayed unconsciously into forbidden ground, +and yet the landscape was so beautiful, and the fragrance of the flowers +was so sweet, and the air was so soft and cool, and the music of the +birds and the streams was so delicious, that she had neither the courage +nor the inclination to go away. + +She did not try to analyse this new sensation that thrilled her to the +finger-tips. She did not know what it meant, or what it portended. + +She took her pocket-handkerchief at length and began to wipe the +bloodstains from Ralph's face, and while she did so the warm colour +mounted to her own cheeks. + +There was no denying that he was very handsome, and she had already had +proof of his character. She recalled the day when she lay in his strong +arms, with her head upon his shoulder, and he carried her all the way +down to the cross roads. How strange that she should be performing a +similar service for him now! Was some blind, unthinking fate weaving the +threads of their separate lives into the same piece? + +The colour deepened in her cheeks until they grew almost crimson. The +words to which she had just listened from his lips seemed to flash upon +her consciousness with a new meaning, and she found herself wondering +what would happen if she had been only a peasant's child. + +A minute or two later the sound of wheels was heard on the grass-grown +road. Ralph turned his head uneasily, and muttered something under his +breath. + +"Help is near," she whispered. "The doctor is coming." + +He looked up into her eyes wonderingly. + +"Don't tell the squire's little maid that I love her," he said slowly. +"I've tried to hate her, but I cannot." + +She gave a little gasp, and tried to speak, but a lump rose in her +throat which threatened to choke her. + +"But her father," he went on slowly, "he's a--a----" but he did not +finish the sentence. + +When the doctor reached his side he was quite unconscious again. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DOROTHY SPEAKS HER MIND + + +Dorothy--to quote her father's words--had taken the bit between her +teeth and bolted. The squire had coaxed her, cajoled her, threatened +her, got angry with her, but all to no purpose. She stood before him +resolute and defiant, vowing that she would sooner die than marry Lord +Probus. + +Sir John was at his wits' end. He saw his brightest hopes dissolving +before his eyes. If Dorothy carried out her threat, and refused to marry +the millionaire brewer, what was to become of him? All his hopes of +extricating himself from his present pecuniary embarrassments were +centred in his lordship. But if Dorothy deliberately broke the +engagement, Lord Probus would see him starve before raising a finger to +help him. + +Fortunately, Lord Probus was in London, and knew nothing of Dorothy's +change of front. He had thought her somewhat cool when he went away, but +that he attributed to her long illness. Warmth of affection would no +doubt return with returning health and strength. Sir John had assured +him that she had not changed towards him in the least. + +Dorothy's illness had been a great disappointment to both men. All +delays were dangerous, and there was always the off-chance that Dorothy +might awake from her girlish day-dream and discover that not only her +feeling toward Lord Probus, but also her views of matrimony, had +undergone an entire change. + +Sir John had received warning of the change on that stormy day when +Ralph Penlogan had visited him to tell him that his father was dead. But +he had put her words out of his mind as quickly as possible. Whatever +else they might mean, he could not bring himself to believe that Dorothy +would deliberately break a sacred and solemn pledge. + +But a few weeks later matters came to a head. It was on Dorothy's return +from a visit to the Penlogans' cottage at St. Goram that the truth came +out. + +Sir John met her crossing the hall with a basket on her arm. + +"Where have you been all the afternoon?" he questioned sharply. + +"I have been to see poor Mrs. Penlogan," she said, "who is anything but +well." + +"It seems to me you are very fond of visiting the Penlogans," he said +crossly. "I suppose that lazy son is still hanging on to his mother, +doing nothing?" + +"I don't think you ought to say he is lazy," she said, flushing +slightly. "He has been to St. Ivel Mine to-day to try to get work, +though Dr. Barrow says he ought not to think of working for another +month." + +"Dr. Barrow is an old woman in some things," he retorted. + +"I think he is a very clever man," she answered; "and we ought to be +grateful for what he did for me." + +"Oh, that is quite another matter. But I suppose you found the Penlogans +full of abuse still of the ground landlord?" + +"No, I did not," she answered. "Lord St. Goram's name was never +mentioned." + +"Oh!" he said shortly, and turned on his heel and walked away. + +"She evidently doesn't know yet that I'm the ground landlord," he +reflected. "I wonder what she will say when she does know? I've half a +mind to tell her myself and face it out. If I thought it would prevent +her going to the Penlogans' cottage, I would tell her, too. Curse them! +They've scored off me by not telling the girl." And he closed the +library door behind him and dropped into an easy-chair. + +He came to the conclusion after a while that he would not tell her. All +things considered, it was better that she should remain in ignorance. In +a few weeks, or months at the outside, he hoped she would be Lady +Probus, and then she would forget all about the Penlogans and their +grievance. + +He took the poker and thrust it into the fire, and sent a cheerful blaze +roaring up the chimney. Then he edged himself back into his easy-chair +and stared at the grate. + +"It's quite time the wedding-day was fixed," he said to himself at +length. "Dorothy is almost as well as ever, and there's no reason +whatever why it should be any longer delayed. I hope she isn't beginning +to think too seriously about the matter. In a case like this, the less +the girl thinks the better." + +The short November day was fading rapidly, but the fire filled the room +with a warm and ruddy light. + +He touched the bell at length, and a moment or two later a servant stood +at the open door. + +"Tell your young mistress when she comes downstairs that I want to see +her." + +"Yes, sir." And the servant departed noiselessly from the room. + +Sir John edged his chair a few inches nearer the fire. He was feeling +very nervous and ill at ease, but he was determined to bring matters to +a head. He knew that Lord Probus was getting impatient, and he was just +as impatient himself. Moreover, delays were often fatal to the best-laid +plans. + +Dorothy came slowly into the room, and with a troubled look in her eyes. + +"You wanted to see me, father?" she questioned timidly. + +"Yes, I wanted to have a little talk with you. Please sit down." And he +continued to stare at the fire. + +Dorothy seated herself in an easy-chair on the other side of the +fireplace and waited. If he was nervous and ill at ease, she was no less +so. She had a shrewd suspicion of what was coming, and she dreaded the +encounter. Nevertheless, she had fully made up her mind as to the course +she intended to take, and she was no longer a child to be wheedled into +anything. + +Sir John looked up suddenly. + +"I have been thinking, Dorothy," he said, "that we ought to get the +wedding over before Christmas. You seem almost as well as ever now, and +there is no reason as far as I can see why the postponed ceremony should +be any longer delayed." + +"Are you in such a great hurry to get rid of me?" she questioned, with a +pathetic smile. + +"My dear, I do not want to get rid of you at all. You know the old tag, +'A daughter's a daughter all the days of her life,' and you will be none +the less my child when you are the mistress of Rostrevor Castle." + +"I shall never be the mistress of Rostrevor Castle," she replied, with +downcast eyes. + +"Never be the mistress of--never? What do you mean, Dorothy?" And he +turned hastily round in his chair and stared at her. + +"I was only a child when I promised," she said timidly, "and I did not +know anything. I thought it would be a fine thing to have a title and a +house in town, and everything that my foolish heart could desire, and I +did not understand what marriage to an old man would mean." + +"Lord Probus is anything but an old man," he said hastily. "He is in his +prime yet." + +"But if he were thirty years younger it would be all the same," she +answered quietly. "You see, father, I have discovered that I do not love +him." + +"And you fancy that you love somebody else?" he said, with a sneer. + +"I did not say anything of the kind," she said, raising her eyes +suddenly to his. "But I know I don't love Lord Probus, and I know I +never shall." + +"Oh, this is simple nonsense!" he replied angrily. "You cannot play fast +and loose in this way. You have given your solemn promise to Lord +Probus, and you cannot go back on it." + +"But I _can_ go back on it, and I will!" + +"You mean that you will defy us both, and defy the law into the +bargain?" + +"There is no law to compel me to marry a man against my will," she said, +with spirit. + +"If there is no law to compel you, there's a power that can force you to +keep your promise," he said, with suppressed passion. + +"What power do you refer to?" she questioned. + +"The power of my will," he answered. "Do you think I am going to allow a +scandal of this kind to take place?" + +"It would be a greater scandal if I married him," she replied. + +"Look here, Dorothy," he said. "We had better look at this matter in the +light of reason and common sense----" + +"That is what I am doing," she interrupted. "I had neither when I gave +my promise to Lord Probus. I was just home from school; I knew nothing +of the world; I had scarcely a serious thought in my head. My illness +has given me time to think and reflect; it has opened my eyes----" + +"And taken away your moral sense," he snarled. + +"No, father, I don't think so at all," she answered mildly. "Feeling as +I do now, it would be wicked to marry Lord Probus." + +He rose to his feet and faced her angrily. + +"Look here, Dorothy," he said. "I am not the man to be thwarted in a +thing of this kind. My reputation is in a sense at stake. You have gone +too far to draw back now. We should be made the laughing-stock of the +entire county. If you had any personal objection to Lord Probus, you +should have discovered it before you promised to marry him. Now that all +arrangements are made for the wedding, it is too late to draw back." + +"No, father, it is not too late; and I am thankful for my illness, +because it has opened my eyes." + +"And all this has come about through that detestable young scoundrel who +refused to open a gate for you." + +In a moment her face flushed crimson, and she turned quickly and walked +out of the room. + +"By Jove, what does this mean?" Sir John said to himself angrily when +the door closed behind her. "What new influences have been at work, I +wonder, or what quixotic or romantic notions has she been getting into +her head? Can it be possible--but no, no, that is too absurd! And yet +things quite as strange have happened. If I find--great Scott, won't we +be quits!" And Sir John paced up and down the room like a caged bear. + +He did not refer to the subject again that day, nor the next. But he +kept his eyes and ears open, and he drew one or two more or less +disquieting conclusions. + +That a change had come over Dorothy was clear. In fact, she was changed +in many ways. She seemed to have passed suddenly from girlhood into +womanhood. But what lay at the back of this change? Was her illness to +bear the entire responsibility, or had other influences been at work? +Was the romantic notion she had got into her mind due to natural +development, or had some youthful face caught her fancy and touched her +heart? + +But during all those long weeks of her illness she had seen no one but +the doctor and vicar and Lord Probus, except--and Sir John gave his +beard an impatient tug. + +By dint of careful inquiry, he got hold of the entire story, not merely +of Dorothy's accident, but of the part she had played in Ralph +Penlogan's accident. + +"Great Scott!" he said to himself, an angry light coming into his eyes. +"If, knowingly or unknowingly, that young scoundrel is at the bottom of +this business, then he can cry quits with a vengeance." + +The more he allowed his mind to dwell on this view of the case, the more +clear it became to him. There was no denying that Ralph Penlogan was +handsome. Moreover, he was well educated and clever. Dorothy, on the +other hand, was in the most romantic period of her life. She had found +him in the plantation badly hurt, and her sympathies would go out to him +in a moment. Under such circumstances, and in her present mood, social +differences would count for nothing. She might lose her heart to him +before she was aware. He, of course, being inherently bad--for Sir John +would not allow that the lower orders, as he termed them, possessed any +sense of honour whatever--would take advantage of her weakness and play +upon the romantic side of her nature to the full, with the result that +she was quite prepared to fling over Lord Probus, or to pose as a +martyr, or to pine for love in a cottage, or do any other idiotic thing +that her silly and sentimental heart might dictate. + +As the days passed away Sir John had very great difficulty in being +civil to his daughter. Also, he kept a strict watch himself on all her +movements, and put a stop to her playing my Lady Bountiful among the +sick poor of St. Goram. + +He hoped in his quieter moments that it was only a passing madness, and +that it would disappear as suddenly as it came. If she could be kept +away from pernicious and disquieting influences for a week or two she +might get back to her normal condition. + +Sir John was debating this view of the question one evening with himself +when the door was flung suddenly open, and Lord Probus stood before him, +looking very perturbed and excited. + +The baronet sprang out of his chair in a moment, and greeted his guest +effusively. "My dear Probus," he said, "I did not know you were in the +county. When did you return?" + +"I came down to-day," was the answer. "I came in response to a letter I +received from your daughter last night. Where is she? I wish to see her +at once." + +"A moment, sir," the baronet said appealingly. "What has she been +writing to you?" + +"I hardly know whether I should discuss the matter with you until I have +seen her," was the somewhat chilly answer. + +"She has asked to be released from her engagement," Sir John said +eagerly. "I can see it in your face. The truth is, the child is a bit +unhinged." + +"Then she has spoken to you?" his lordship interrupted. + +"Well, yes, but I came to the conclusion that it was only a passing +mood. She has not picked up her strength as rapidly as I could have +desired, but, given time, and I have little doubt she will be just the +same as ever. I am sorry she has written to you on the matter." + +"I noticed a change in her before I went away. In fact, she was +decidedly cool." + +"But it will pass, my lord. I am sure it will. We must not hurry her. +Don't take her 'No' as final. Let the matter remain in abeyance for a +month or two. Now I will ring for her and leave you together. But take +my advice and don't let her settle the matter now." + +Sir John met Dorothy in the hall, and intimated that Lord Probus was +waiting for her in the library. She betrayed no surprise whatever. In +fact, she expected he would hurry back on receipt of her letter, and so +was quite ready for the interview. + +They did not remain long together. Lord Probus saw that, for the present +at any rate, her mind was absolutely made up. But he was not prepared, +nevertheless, to relinquish his prize. + +She looked lovelier in his eyes than she had ever done before. He felt +the charm of her budding womanhood. She was no longer a schoolgirl to be +wheedled and influenced by the promise of pretty things. Her eyes had a +new light in them, her manner an added dignity. + +"Be assured," he said to her, in his most chivalrous manner, "that your +happiness is more to me than my own. But we will not regard the matter +as settled yet. Let things remain in abeyance for a month or two." + +"It is better we should understand each other once for all," she said +decisively, "for I am quite sure time will only confirm me in my +resolution." + +"No, no. Don't say that," he pleaded. "Think of all I can give you, of +all that I will do for you, of all the love and care I will lavish upon +you. You owe it to me not to do this thing rashly. Let us wait, say, +till the new year, and then we will talk the matter over again." And he +took her hand and kissed it, and then walked slowly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +GATHERING CLOUDS + + +The following afternoon Sir John went for a walk in the plantation +alone. He was in a very perturbed and anxious condition of mind. Lord +Probus had taken his advice, and refused to accept Dorothy's "No" as +final; but that by no means settled the matter. He feared that at best +it had only postponed the evil day for a few weeks. What if she +continued in the same frame of mind? What if she had conceived any kind +of romantic attachment for young Penlogan, into whose arms she had been +thrown more than once? + +Of course, Dorothy would never dream of any alliance with a Penlogan. +She was too well bred for that, and had too much regard for the social +order. But all the same, such an attachment would put an end to Lord +Probus's hopes. She would be eternally contrasting the two men, and she +would elect to remain a spinster until time had cured her of her +love-sickness. In the meanwhile he would be upon the rocks financially, +or in some position even worse than that. + +"It is most annoying," he said to himself, with knitted brows and +clenched hands, "most confoundedly annoying, and all because of that +young scoundrel Penlogan. If I could only wring his neck or get him +clear out of the district it would be some satisfaction." + +The next moment the sound of snapping twigs fell distinctly on his ear. +He turned suddenly and caught a momentary glimpse of a white face +peering over a hedge. + +"By Heaven, it's that scoundrel Penlogan!" was the thought that darted +suddenly through his mind. The next moment there was a flash, a report, +a stinging pain in his left arm and cheek, and then a moment of utter +mental confusion. + +He recovered himself in a moment or two and took to his heels. He had +been shot, he knew, but with what effect he could not tell. His left arm +hung limply by his side and felt like a burning coal. His cheek was +smarting intolerably, but the extent of the damage he had no means of +ascertaining. He might be fatally hurt for all he knew. Any moment he +might fall dead in the road, and the young villain who had shot him +might go unpunished. + +"I must prevent that if possible," he said to himself, as he kept +running at the top of his speed. "I must hold out till I get home. Oh, I +do hope my strength will not fail me! It's a terrible thing to be done +to death in this way." + +The perspiration was running in streams down his face. His breath came +and went in gasps, but he never slackened his pace for a moment; and +still as he ran the conviction grew and deepened in his mind that a +deliberate attempt had been made to murder him. + +He came within sight of the house at length, and began to shout at the +top of his voice-- + +"Help! help! Murder! Be quick----" + +The coachman and the stable boy, who happened to be discussing politics +in the yard at the moment, took to their heels and both ran in the same +direction. They came upon their master, hatless and exhausted, and were +just in time to catch him in their arms before he sank to the ground. + +"Oh, I've been murdered!" he gasped. "Think of it, murdered in my own +plantation! Carry me home, and then go for the doctor and the police. +That young Penlogan shall swing for this." + +"But you can't be murdered, master," the coachman said soothingly, "for +you're alive and able to talk." + +"But I'm nearly done for," he groaned. "I feel my life ebbing away fast. +Get me home as quickly as you can. I hope I'll live till the policeman +comes." + +The two men locked hands, and made a kind of chair for their master, and +then marched away towards the house. + +Sir John talked incessantly all the distance. + +"If I die before I get home," he said, "don't forget what I am telling +you. Justice must be done in a case like this. Won't there be a +sensation in the county when people learn that I was deliberately +murdered in my own plantation!" + +"But why should Ralph Penlogan want to murder you?" the coachman +queried. + +"Why? Don't ask me. He came to the house the day his father died and +threatened me. I saw murder in his eyes then. I believe he would have +murdered me in my own library if he had had the chance. But make haste, +for my strength is ebbing out rapidly." + +"I don't think you are going to die yet, sir," the coachman said +cheerfully. + +"Oh, I don't know! I feel very strange. I keep praying that I may live +to get home and give evidence before the proper authorities. It seems +very strange that I should come to my end this way." + +"But you may recover, sir," the stable boy interposed. "There's never no +knowing what may happen in this world." + +"Please don't talk to me," he said petulantly. "You are wasting time +while you talk. I want to compose my mind. It's an awfully solemn thing +to be murdered, but he shall swing for it as sure as I'm living at this +moment! Don't you think you can hurry a little faster?" + +Sir John had considerably recovered by the time they reached the house, +and was able to walk upstairs and even to undress with assistance. + +While waiting for the doctor, Dorothy came and sat by his side. She was +very pale, but quite composed. Hers was one of those natures that seemed +to gather strength in proportion to the demands made upon it. She never +fainted or lost her wits or became hysterical. She met the need of the +moment with a courage that rarely failed her. + +"Ah, Dorothy," he said, in impressive tones, "I never thought I should +come to this, and at the hands of a dastardly assassin." + +"But are you sure it was not an accident, father?" she questioned +gently. + +"Accident?" he said, and his eyes blazed with anger. "Has it come to +this, that you would screen the man who has murdered your father?" + +"Let us not use such a word until we are compelled," she replied, in the +same gentle tones. "You may not be hurt as much as you fear." + +"Whether I am hurt much or little," he said, "the intention was there. +If I am not dead, the fault is not his." + +"But are you sure it was he who fired at you?" + +"As sure as I can be of anything in this world. Besides, who else would +do it? He threatened me the day his father died." + +"Threatened to murder you?" + +"Not in so many words, but he had murder in his eyes." + +"But why should he want to do you any harm? You never did any harm to +him." + +For a moment or two Sir John hesitated. Should he clench his argument by +supplying the motive? He would never have a better opportunity for +destroying at a single blow any romantic attachment that she may have +cherished. Destroy her faith in Ralph Penlogan--the handsome youth with +pleasant manners--and her heart might turn again to Lord Probus. + +But while he hesitated the door opened, and Dr. Barrow came hurriedly +into the room, followed by a nurse. + +Dorothy raised a pair of appealing eyes to the doctor's face, and then +stole sadly down to the drawing-room to await the verdict. + +As yet her faith in Ralph Penlogan remained unshaken. She had seen a +good deal of him during the last few weeks, and the more she had seen of +him the more she had admired him. His affection for his mother and +sister, his solicitude for their comfort and welfare, his anxiety to +take from their shoulders every burden, his impatience to get well so +that he might step into his dead father's place and be the bread-winner +of the family, had touched her heart irresistibly. She felt that a man +could not be bad who was so good to his mother and so kind and +chivalrous to his sister. + +Whether or no she had done wisely in going to the Penlogans' cottage was +a question she was not quite able to answer. Ostensibly she had gone to +see Mrs. Penlogan, who had not yet recovered from the shock caused by +her husband's death, and yet she was conscious of a very real sense of +disappointment if Ralph was not visible. + +That she should be interested in him was the most natural thing in the +world. They had been thrown together in no ordinary way. They had +succoured each other in times of very real peril--had each been the +other's good angel. Hence it would be folly to pretend the indifference +of absolute strangers. Socially, their lives lay wide as the poles +asunder, and yet there might be a very true kinship between them. The +only drawback to any sort of friendship was the confession she had +unwittingly listened to while he lay dazed and unconscious in the +plantation. + +How much it amounted to she did not know. Probably nothing. It was said +that people in delirium spoke the exact opposite of what they meant. +Ralph had reiterated that he hated her father. Probably he did nothing +of the kind. Why should he hate him? At any rate, since he began to get +better he had said nothing, as far as she was aware, that would convey +the remotest impression of such a feeling. His words respecting herself +probably had no more meaning or value, and she made an honest effort to +forget them. + +She had questioned him as to what he could remember after the branch of +the tree struck him. But he remembered nothing till the following day. +For twenty-four hours his mind was a complete blank, and he was quite +unsuspicious that he had spoken a single word to anyone. And yet, try as +she would, whenever she was in his presence, his words kept recurring to +her. There might be a worse tragedy in his life than that which had +already occurred. + +These thoughts kept chasing each other like lightning through her brain, +as she sat waiting for the verdict of the doctor. + +He came at length, and she rose at once to meet him. + +"Well, doctor?" she questioned. "Let me know the worst." + +She saw that there was a perplexed and even troubled look in his eyes, +and she feared that her father was more seriously hurt than she had +imagined. + +"There is no immediate danger," he said, taking her hands and leading +her back to her seat. They were great friends, and she trusted him +implicitly. + +She gave a little sigh of relief and waited for him to speak again. + +"The main volume of the charge just missed him," he went on, after a +pause. "Had he been an inch or two farther to the left, the chances are +he would never have spoken again." + +"But you think that he will get better?" + +"Well, yes. I see no cause for apprehension. His left shoulder and arm +are badly speckled, no doubt, but I don't think any vital part has been +touched." + +Dorothy sighed again, and for a moment or two there was silence. Then +she said, with evident effort-- + +"But what about--about--young Penlogan?" + +"Ah, that I fear is a more serious matter," he answered, with averted +eyes. "I sincerely trust that your father is mistaken." + +"You are not sure that he is?" + +"It seems as if one can be sure of nothing in this world," he answered +slowly and evasively, "and yet I could have trusted Ralph Penlogan with +my life." + +"Does father still persist that it was he?" + +"He is quite positive, and almost gets angry if one suggests that he may +have been mistaken." + +"Well, doctor, and what will all this lead to?" she questioned, making a +strong effort to keep her voice steady. + +"For the moment I fear it must lead to young Penlogan's arrest. There +seems no way of escaping that. Your father's depositions will be taken +as soon as Mr. Tregonning arrives. Then, of course, a warrant will be +issued, and most likely Penlogan will spend to-night in the +police-station--unless----" Then he paused suddenly and looked out of +the window. + +"Unless what, doctor?" + +"Well, unless he has tried to get away somewhere. It will be dark +directly, and under cover of darkness he might get a long distance." + +"But that would imply that he is guilty?" + +"Well--yes. I am assuming, of course, that he deliberately shot at your +father." + +"Which I am quite sure he did not do." + +"I have the same conviction myself, and yet he made no secret of the +fact that he hated your father." + +"But why should he hate my father?" + +"You surely know----" Then he hesitated. + +"I know nothing," she answered. "What is the ground of his dislike?" + +"Ah, here is Mr. Tregonning's carriage," he said, in a tone of relief. +"Now I must run away. Keep your heart up, and don't worry any more than +you can help." + +For several moments she walked up and down the room with a restless yet +undecided step. Then she made suddenly for the door, and three minutes +later she might have been seen hurrying along the drive in the swiftly +gathering darkness as fast as her feet could carry her. + +"I'll see him for myself," she said, with a resolute light in her eyes. +"I'll get the truth from his own lips. I'm sure he will not lie to me." + +It was quite dark when she reached the village, save for the twinkling +lights in cottage windows. + +She met a few people, but no one recognised her, enveloped as she was in +a heavy cloak. For a moment or two she paused before the door of the +Penlogans' cottage. Her heart was beating very fast, and she felt like a +bird of evil omen. If Ralph was innocent, then he knew nothing of the +trouble that was looming ahead, and she would be the petrel to announce +the coming storm. + +She gave a timid rat-tat at the door, and after a moment or two it was +opened by Ruth. + +"Why, Miss Dorothy!" And Ruth started back in surprise. + +"Is your brother at home?" Dorothy questioned, with a little gasp. + +"Why, yes. Won't you come in?" + +"Would you mind asking him to come to the door. I have only a moment or +two to spare." + +"You had better come into the passage," Ruth said, "and I will go at +once and tell him you are here." + +Dorothy stepped over the threshold and stood under the small lamp that +lighted the tiny hall. + +In a few moments Ralph stood before her, his cheeks flushed, and an +eager, questioning light in his eyes. + +She looked at him eagerly for a moment before she spoke, and could not +help thinking how handsome he looked. + +"I have come on a strange errand," she said, speaking rapidly, "and I +fear there is more trouble in store for you. But tell me first, have you +ever lifted a finger against my father?" + +"Never, Miss Dorothy! Why do you ask?" + +"And you have never planned, or purposed, or attempted to do him harm?" + +"Why, no, Miss Dorothy. Why should you think of such a thing?" + +"My father was shot this afternoon in Treliskey Plantation. He saw a +face for a moment peering over a hedge; the next moment there was a +flash and a report, and a part of the charge entered his left arm and +shoulder. He is in bed now, and Mr. Tregonning is taking his +depositions. He vows that it was your face that he saw peering over the +hedge--that it was you who shot him." + +Ralph's face grew ashen while she was speaking, and a look almost of +terror crept into his eyes. The difficulty and peril of his position +revealed themselves in a moment. How could he prove that Sir John +Hamblyn was mistaken? + +"But you do not believe it, Miss Dorothy?" he questioned. + +"You tell me that you are innocent?" she asked, almost in a whisper. + +"I am as innocent as you are," he said; and he looked frankly and +appealingly into her eyes. + +For a moment or two she looked at him in silence, then she said in the +same low tone-- + +"I believe you." And she held out her hand to him, and then turned +towards the door. + +He had a hundred things to say to her, but somehow the words would not +come. He watched her cross the threshold and pass out into the darkness, +and he stood still and had not the courage to follow her. It would have +been at least a neighbourly thing to see her to the lodge gates, for the +night was unillumined by even a star, but his lips refused to move. He +stood stock-still, as if riveted to the ground. + +How long he remained there staring into the darkness he did not know. +Time and place were swallowed up and lost. He was conscious only of the +steady approach of an overwhelming calamity. It was gathering from every +point of the compass at the same time. It was wrapping him round like a +sable pall. It was obliterating one by one every star of hope and +promise. + +Ruth came to look for him at length, and she uttered a little cry when +she saw him, for his face was like the face of the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE STORM BURSTS + + +"Why, Ralph, what is the matter?" And Ruth seized one of his hands and +stared eagerly and appealingly into his face. + +He shook himself as if he had been asleep, then closed the door quietly +and followed her into the living-room. + +"Are you not well, Ralph?" Ruth persisted, as she drew up his chair a +little nearer the fire. Mrs. Penlogan laid her knitting in her lap, and +her eyes echoed Ruth's inquiry. + +"I've heard some bad news," he said, speaking with an effort, and he +dropped into his chair and stared at the fire. + +"Bad news!" both women echoed. "What has happened, Ralph?" + +He hesitated for a moment, then he told them the story as Dorothy had +told it to him. + +"But why should you worry?" Ruth questioned quickly. "You were nowhere +near the plantation." + +"But how am I to prove it?" he questioned. + +"Have you been alone all the afternoon?" + +"Absolutely." + +"But you have surely seen someone?" + +"As bad luck would have it, I have not seen a soul." + +"But some people may have seen you." + +"That is likely enough. Twenty people in the village looking from behind +their curtains may have seen me walk out with a gun under my arm." + +"And it's the first time you've carried a gun since we left Hillside." + +"The very first time, and it looks as if it will be the last." + +"But surely, Ralph, no one would believe for a moment that you could do +such a thing?" his mother interposed. "It's been some awkward accident, +you may depend. It will all come out right in the morning." + +"I'm very sorry for you, mother," he said slowly. "You've had trouble +enough lately, God knows. We all have, for that matter. But it is of no +use shutting our eyes to the fact that this is a very awkward business, +and while we should hope for the best, we should prepare for the worst." + +"What worst do you refer to, Ralph?" she asked, a little querulously. +"You surely do not think----" + +"I hardly know what to think, mother," he interrupted, for it was quite +clear she did not realise yet the gravity of the situation. "It may mean +imprisonment and the loss of my good name, which would mean the loss of +everything and the end of the world for me." + +"Oh no; surely not," and the tears began to gather in her eyes. + +"The trouble lies here," he went on. "Everybody knows that I hate the +squire. We all do, for that matter, and for very good reasons. As it +happens, I have been out with a gun this afternoon, and have brought +home a couple of rabbits. I shot them in Dingley Bottom, but no one saw +me. Somebody trespassing in the plantation came upon the squire. He was +climbing over a hedge, and very likely in drawing back suddenly +something caught the trigger and the gun went off. Now unless that man +confesses, what is to become of me?" + +"But he will confess. Nobody would let you be wrongfully accused," she +interrupted. + +He shook his head dubiously. "Most people are so anxious to save their +own skin," he said, "that they do not trouble much about what becomes of +other people." + +"But if the worst should come to the worst, Ralph," Ruth questioned +timidly, "what would it mean?" + +"Transportation," he said gloomily. + +Mrs. Penlogan began to cry. It seemed almost as if God had forsaken +them, and her faith in Providence was in danger of going from her. She +and Ruth had been bewailing the hardness of their lot that afternoon +while Ralph was out with his gun. The few pounds saved from the general +wreck were nearly exhausted. When the funeral expenses had been paid, +and the removal accounts had been squared, there was very little left. +To make matters worse, Ralph's accident had to be added to their +calamities. He was only just beginning to get about again, and when the +doctor's bill came in they would be worse than penniless, they would be +in debt. + +And now suddenly, and without warning, this new trouble threatened them. +A trouble that was worse than poverty--worse even than death. Their good +name, they imagined, was unassailable, and if that went by the board, +everything would be lost. + +Ralph sat silent, and stared into the fire. In the main his thoughts +were very bitter, but one sweet reflection came and went in the most +unaccountable fashion. One pure and almost perfect face peeped at him +from between the bars of the grate and vanished, but always came back +again after a few minutes and smiled all the more sweetly, as if to +atone for its absence. + +Why had Dorothy Hamblyn taken the trouble to interview him? Why was she +so interested in his fate? How was it that she was so ready to accept +his word? To give any rational answer to these questions seemed +impossible. If she felt what he felt, the explanation would be simple +enough; but since by no exercise of his fancy or imagination could he +bring himself to that view of the case, her conduct--her apparent +solicitude--remained inexplicable. + +Nevertheless, the thought of Dorothy was the one sweet drop in his +bitter cup. The why and wherefore of her interest might remain a +mystery, yet the fact remained that of her own free will she had come to +see him that she might get the truth from his own lips, and without any +hesitation she had told him that she believed his word. Sir John might +hunt him down with all the venom of a sleuth hound, but he would always +have this crumb of consolation, that the Squire's daughter believed in +him still. + +He had given up trying to hate her. Nay, he accepted it as part of the +irony of fate that he should do the other thing. He could not understand +why destiny should be so relentlessly cruel to him, why every +circumstance and every combination of circumstances should unite to +crush him. But he had to accept life as he found it. The world seemed to +be ruled by might, not by justice. The strong worked their will upon the +weak. It was the fate of the feeble to go under; the helpless cried in +vain for deliverance, the poor were daily oppressed. + +He found his youthful optimism a steadily diminishing quantity. His +father's fate seemed to mock the idea of an over-ruling Providence. If +there was ever a good man in the parish, his father was that man. No +breath of slander had ever touched his name. Honest, industrious, +pure-minded, God-fearing, he lived and wrought with all his might, doing +to others as he would they should do to him. And yet he died of a broken +heart, defeated and routed in the unequal contest, victimised by the +uncertain chances of life, ground to powder by laws he did not make, and +had no chance of escaping. And in that hour of overwhelming disaster +there was no hand to deliver him save the kindly hand of death. + +"And what is there before me?" he asked himself bitterly. "What have I +to live for, or hope for? The very springs of my youth seem poisoned. My +love is a cruel mockery, my ambitions are frost-nipped in the bud." + +For the rest of the evening very little was said. Supper was a sadly +frugal meal, and they ate it in silence. Ruth and her mother could not +help wondering how long it would be ere they would have no food to eat. + +Ralph kept listening with keen apprehension for the sound of a measured +footstep outside the door. At any moment he might be arrested. Sir John +was one of the most important men in St. Goram, hence the law would be +swift to take its course. The policemen would be falling over each other +in their eagerness to do their duty. + +The tall grandfather's clock in the corner beat out the moments with +loud and monotonous click. The fire in the grate sank lower and lower. +All the village noises died down into silence. Mrs. Penlogan's chin, in +spite of her anxiety, began to droop upon her bosom. + +"I think we shall be left undisturbed to-night," Ralph said, with a +pathetic smile. "Perhaps we had better get off to bed." + +Mrs. Penlogan rose at once and fetched the family Bible and handed it on +to Ruth. It fell open at the 23rd Psalm: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I +shall not want." + +Ruth read it in a low, even voice. It was her father's favourite +portion--his sheet-anchor when the storms of life raged most fiercely. +Now he was beyond the tempest and beyond the strife. + +For the first time Ralph felt thankful that he was dead. + +"Dear old father," he said to himself. "He has got beyond the worry and +the pain. His heart will ache no more for ever." + +They all knelt down when the psalm ended; but no one prayed aloud. + +Ralph remained after the others had gone upstairs. It seemed of little +use going to bed, he felt too restless to sleep. + +Ever since Dorothy went away he had been expecting Policeman Budda to +call with a warrant for his arrest. Why he had not come he could not +understand. He wondered if Dorothy had interceded with her father, and +his eyes softened at the thought. + +He did not blame himself for loving her in a restrained and far-off way. +She was so fair and sweet and generous. That she was beyond his reach +was no fault of his--that he had carried her in his arms and pressed her +to his heart was the tragedy as well as the romance of his life. That +she had watched by him and succoured him in the plantation was only +another cord that bound his heart to her. That he should love her was +but the inevitable sequence of events. + +It was foolish to blame himself. He would be something less than man if +he did not love her. He had tried his hardest not to--had struggled with +all his might to put the memory of her out of his heart. But he gave up +the struggle weeks ago. It was of no use fighting against fate. It was +part of the burden he had been called upon to bear, and he would have to +bear it as bravely and as patiently as he knew how. + +He was not so vain as to imagine that she cared for him in the smallest +degree--or ever could care. Moreover, she was engaged to be married, and +would have been married months ago but for her accident. + +Ralph got up from his chair and began to walk about the room. Dorothy +Hamblyn was not for him, he knew well enough, and yet whenever he +thought of her marrying Lord Probus his whole soul revolted. It seemed +to him like sacrilege, and sacrilege in its basest form. + +It was nearly midnight when he stole silently and stealthily to his +little room, and soon after he fell fast asleep. + +When he opened his eyes again the light of a new day filled the room, +and a harsh and unfamiliar voice was speaking rapidly in the room below. +Ralph leaned over the side of his bed for a moment or two and listened. + +"It's Budda's voice," he said to himself at length, and he gave a little +gasp. If Dorothy had interceded for him, her intercession had failed. +The law would now have to take its course. + +He dressed himself carefully and with great deliberation. He would not +show the white feather if he could help it. Besides, it was just +possible he might be able to clear himself. He would not give up hope +until he was compelled to. + +Budda was very civil and even sympathetic. He sat by the fire while +Ralph ate his breakfast, and retailed a good deal of the gossip of the +village so as to lessen the strain of the situation. Ralph replied to +him with an air of well-feigned indifference and unconcern. He would +rather die than betray weakness before a policeman. + +Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth moved in and out of the room with set faces and +dry eyes. They knew how to endure silently. So many storms had beaten +upon them that it did not seem to matter much what came to them now. +Also they knew that the real bitterness would come when Ralph's place +was empty. + +Budda appeared to be in no hurry. It was all in his day's work, and +since Ralph showed no disposition to bolt, an hour sooner or later made +no difference. He read the terms of the warrant with great deliberation +and in his most impressive manner. Ralph made no reply. This was neither +the time nor the place to protest his innocence. + +Breakfast over, Ralph stretched his feet for a few moments before the +fire. Budda talked on; but Ralph said nothing. He sprang to his feet at +length and got on his hat and overcoat, while his mother and Ruth were +out of the room. + +"Now I am ready," he said; and Budda at once led the way. + +He met his mother and sister in the passage and kissed them a hurried +good-morning, and almost before they knew what had happened the door +closed, and Ralph and the policeman had disappeared. + +On the following morning he was brought before the magistrates and +remanded for a week, bail being refused. + +It was fortunate for him that in the solitude of his cell he had no +conception of the tremendous sensation his arrest produced. There had +been nothing like it in St. Goram for more than a generation, and for a +week or two little else was talked about. + +Of course, opinions varied as to the measure of his guilt or innocence. +But, in the main, the current of opinion went strongly against him. When +a man is down, it is surprising how few his friends are. The bulk of the +St. Goramites were far more ready to kick him than defend him. Wiseacres +and busybodies told all who cared to listen how they had predicted some +such catastrophe. David Penlogan was a good man, but he had not trained +his children wisely. He had spent more on their education than his +circumstances warranted, with the result that they were exclusive and +proud, and discontented with the station in life to which Providence had +called them. + +Ralph would have been infinitely pained had he known how indifferent the +mass of the people were to his fate, and how ready some of those whom he +had regarded as his friends were to listen to tales against him. Even +those who defended him, did it in a very tepid and half-hearted way; and +the more strongly the current ran against him, the more feeble became +his defence. + +At the end of a week Ralph was brought up and remanded again. Sir John +Hamblyn was still confined to his bed, and the doctor could not say when +he would be well enough to appear and give evidence. + +So time after time he was dragged into the dock, only to be hustled +after a few minutes back into his cell. + +But at length, after weary weeks of waiting, Sir John appeared at the +court-house with his arm in a sling. The bench was crowded with +magistrates, all of whom were loud in their expressions of sympathy and +emphatic in their denunciation of the crime that had been committed. + +Sir John being a baronet and a magistrate, and a very considerable +landowner, was accommodated with a cushion, and allowed to sit while he +gave evidence. The court-room was packed, and the crowd outside was +considerably larger than that within. + +Ralph was led into the dock looking but a ghost of his former self. The +long weeks of confinement--following upon his illness--the scanty prison +fare in place of nourishing food, had wasted him almost to a shadow. He +stood, however, erect and defiant, and faced the bench of country +squires with a fearless light in his eyes. They might have the power to +shut him up within stone walls, but they could not break his spirit. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SIR JOHN GETS ANGRY + + +It was remarked that Sir John never looked at the prisoner all the time +he was giving evidence. He was, however, perfectly at home before his +brother magistrates, and showed none of that nervousness and restraint +which ordinary mortals feel in similar circumstances. The story he told +was simple and straightforward. He had not an enemy in the parish, as +far as he knew, except the prisoner, who had made no secret of his +hatred and of his desire for revenge. + +He admitted that fortune had been unkind to the elder Penlogan, but in +the chances of life it was inevitable that some should come out at the +bottom. As the ground landlord, he had acted with every consideration, +and had given David Penlogan plenty of time to realise to the best +advantage. Hence he felt quite sure that their worships would acquit him +of any intention of being either harsh or unjust. + +A general nodding of heads on the part of the magistrates satisfied him +on that point. + +He then went on to tell the story of the prisoner's visit to Hamblyn +Manor, and how he had the effrontery to charge him with killing his +father. + +"Gentlemen, he had murder in his eyes when he came to see me; but, +fortunately, he had no opportunity of doing me harm." + +Sir John waved his right hand dramatically when he uttered these words, +the effect of which--in the language of the local reporter--was +"Sensation in Court." + +He then went on to describe the events of the afternoon when the shot +was fired. + +He was not likely to be mistaken in the prisoner's face. He had no wish +to take an oath that it was the prisoner, but he was morally certain +that it was he. + +Then followed a good deal of collateral evidence that the police had +gathered up and spliced together. The prisoner had been seen by a number +of people that afternoon with a gun under his arm. He wore a cloth cap, +such as Sir John had described. He had been seen crossing Polskiddy +Downs, which, as everyone knew, abutted on Treliskey Plantation. He had +expressed himself very bitterly on several occasions respecting Sir +John, and had talked vaguely about being quits with him some day. +Footprints near the hedge behind which the shot was fired tallied with a +pair of boots in the prisoner's house; also, the prisoner returned to +his own house within an hour of the shot being fired. + +The magistrates looked more and more grave as the chain of evidence +lengthened out, though most of them had quite made up their minds before +the proceedings began. + +Ralph, in spite of all advice to the contrary, pleaded "not guilty," and +being allowed to speak in his own defence, availed himself of the +opportunity. + +"Why should I want to kill the squire?" he said, in a tone of scorn. +"God will punish him soon enough." (More sensation in court.) "That he +has behaved badly to us," Ralph went on, "no unprejudiced person will +deny, though you, being landowners yourselves, approve. I don't deny +that he acted within his legal rights. So did Shylock. But had he the +heart of a savage, to say nothing of a Christian, he could not have +acted more oppressively. I told him that he killed my father--and I +repeat it to-day!" (Renewed sensation.) "I did go out shooting on that +day in question. My gun licence has not expired yet. Mr. Hooker told me +I could shoot over Dingley Bottom any time I liked, and I was glad of +the opportunity, for our larder was not overstocked, as you may imagine. +I crossed Polskiddy Downs, I admit--it is the one bit of common land +that you gentry have not filched from us----" (Profound sensation, +during which the chairman protested that if prisoner did not keep +himself strictly to his defence, the privilege of speaking further would +be taken from him.) "As you will, gentlemen," Ralph said indifferently. +"I do not expect justice or a fair hearing in a court of this kind." + +"Order, order!" shouted the magistrates' clerk. The chairman intimated, +after a few moments of silence, that the prisoner might proceed if he +would promise not to insult the Bench. + +"I have very little more to add," Ralph went on, quite calmly. +"Unfortunately, no one saw me in Dingley Bottom, and yet I went straight +there from home, and came straight back again. I did not go within half +a mile of Treliskey Plantation. Moreover, if I wanted to meet Sir John, +I should go to his house, as I have done more than once, and not wander +through miles of wood on the off-chance of meeting him. Nor is that all. +If I wanted to kill the gentleman, I should have killed him, and not +sprinkled a few shots on his coat sleeve. I have two barrels to my gun, +and I do not often miss what I aim at. If I had intended to murder him, +do you think I should have been such a fool as to first show my face and +then let him escape? I went out in broad daylight; I returned in broad +daylight. Is it conceivable that if I intended to shoot the gentleman I +should have been seen carrying a gun? or that, having done the deed, I +should have returned in sight of all the village? It has been suggested +that, having been caught trespassing in the plantation, I was seized +with a sudden desire for revenge. If that had been the case, do you +think I would have half completed the task? As all the parish can +testify, I am no indifferent shot. If I was alone in the plantation with +him, and wanted to kill him, I could have done it. But, gentlemen, I +swear before God I was not in the plantation, nor even near it. I have +never lifted a finger against this man, nor would I do it if I had the +opportunity. That he has treated me and mine with cruel oppression is +common knowledge. But vengeance is God's, and I have no desire, nor ever +had any desire, to take the law into my own hands." + +Many opinions were expressed afterwards as to the effect produced by +Ralph's speech, but the general impression was that he did no good for +himself. The Bench was by no means impressed in his favour. They +detected a socialistic flavour in some of the things he flung at them. +He had not been respectful--indeed, in plain English, he had been +insulting. They would not have tolerated him, only he was on his trial, +and they were anxious to avoid any suspicion of unfairness. They +flattered themselves afterwards that they displayed a spirit of great +Christian forbearance, and as they had almost to a man made up their +minds beforehand, they had no hesitation in committing him to take his +trial at the next Assizes on the charge of shooting at Sir John Hamblyn +with intent to do him grievous bodily harm. + +The question of bail was not mentioned, and Ralph went back to his cell +to meditate once more on the tender mercies of the rich and the justice +of the strong. + +Sir John returned to his home very well pleased with the result of the +morning's proceedings. The decision of the magistrates seemed a +compliment to himself. To make it an Assize case indicated a due +appreciation of his position and importance. + +Also he was pleased because he believed the decision would completely +destroy any romantic attachment that Dorothy might cherish for the +accused. It had come to his knowledge that at the very time Mr. +Tregonning was at his bedside taking his depositions, she was at the +cottage of the Penlogans interviewing the accused himself. This +knowledge had made Sir John more angry than he had been for a very long +time. It was not merely the indiscretion that angered him, it was what +the indiscretion implied. + +However, he believed that the decision of the magistrates would put an +end to all this nonsense, and that in the revulsion of feeling Lord +Probus would again have his opportunity. + +Dorothy asked him the result of the trial on his return, and when he +told her she made no reply whatever. Neither did he enlarge on the +matter. He concluded that it would be the wiser policy to let the simple +facts of the case make their own impression. Women, he knew, were +proverbially stubborn, and not always reasonable, while the more they +were opposed, the more doggedly determined they became. + +Such fears and suspicions as he had he wisely kept to himself. Dorothy +was only a foolish girl, who would grow wiser with time. The teaching of +experience and the pressure of circumstances would in the end, he +believed, compel her to go the way he wished her to take. In the +meanwhile, his cue was to watch and wait, and not too obtrusively show +his hand. + +Dorothy was as reticent on the matter as her father. That she had become +keenly interested in the fate of Ralph Penlogan she did not attempt to +hide from herself. That a cruel wrong had been done to him she honestly +believed. That her sympathies went out to him in his undeserved +sufferings was a fact she had no wish to dispute, and that in some way +he had influenced her in her decision not to marry Lord Probus was also, +to her own mind, too patent to be contested. + +But she saw no danger in any of these simple facts. The idea of being in +love with a small working farmer's son did not enter her head. She +belonged to a different world socially, and such a proposition would not +occur to her. But social position could not prevent her admiring good +looks, and physical strength, and manly ways, and a generous +disposition, when they were brought under her notice. + +On the day following the decision of the magistrates she read a full +account of the proceedings in the local newspaper, and for the first +time was made aware of the fact that it was not Lord St. Goram who had +so unmercifully oppressed the Penlogans, but her own father. + +For a few minutes she felt quite stunned. + +It had never occurred to her that her father was the lord of the manor. +In her mind he was not a lord at all. He was simply a baronet. + +How short-sighted she had been! Slowly the full meaning and significance +of the fact worked its way into her brain, and her face flushed with +shame and indignation. Why had not her father the courage to tell her +the truth? Why had he allowed her to wrong Lord St. Goram even in +thought? Why was he so relentless in his pursuit of the people he had +treated so harshly? Was it true that people never forgave those they had +wronged? Then her thoughts turned unconsciously to the Penlogans. How +they must hate her father, and yet how sensitive they had been not to +hurt her feelings. Even Ralph had allowed her to think that Lord St. +Goram was the oppressor. + +"He ought not to have deceived me," she said to herself, and yet she +liked him all the more for his chivalry. + +Her thoughts went back to that first day of their meeting, when she +mistook him for a country yokel. Considering the fact that she was a +lady, and on horseback, he had undoubtedly been rude to her, and yet he +was rude in a manly sort of way. She liked him even then, and liked him +all the more because he did not cringe to her. + +But since then his every word and act had evinced the very soul of +chivalry. In many ways he was much more a gentleman than Lord Probus. +Indeed, she was inclined to think that in every way he was more of a +gentleman. Lord Probus had wealth--fabulous wealth, it was believed--and +a thin veneer of polish. But, stripped of the outer shell, she felt +quite certain that the farmer's son was much more the gentleman of the +two. + +It was inevitable, however, that the subject should sooner or later crop +up between the father and daughter, and when it did crop up, Sir John +was quite unable to hide the bias of his mind. + +"In tracking down a crime," he said, with quite a magisterial air, "the +first thing to discover, if possible, is a motive. Given a motive, the +rest is often comparatively easy. Now in this case I kept the motive +from you, as I had no wish to prejudice the young man in your eyes. But +in the preliminary trial, as you will have observed, the motive came +out. Why he shot me is clear enough. Why he did not complete the work is +due probably to failure of nerve; or possibly he thought I was dead, for +I fell to the ground like a log." + +"Why, father, you said you took to your heels and ran like the wind, and +so got out of his reach." + +"That was after I recovered myself, Dorothy. I admit I ran then." + +"And you still believe that it was he who fired the shot?" + +"Why, of course I do." + +"With intent to kill?" + +"There is not the least doubt of it." + +"You think he had good reason for hating you?" + +"From his point of view he may think that I ought to have foregone my +rights." + +"He thinks you ought not to have pushed them to extremes, as you did. It +was a cruel thing to do, father, and you know it." + +"The Penlogans have never been desirable people. They have never known +their place, or kept it. I wouldn't have leased the downs to them if I +had known their opinions. No man did so much to turn the last election +as David Penlogan." + +"I suppose he had a perfect right to his opinions?" + +"And I have the right to exercise any influence or power I possess in +any way I please," he retorted angrily. "And if I chose to accept a more +suitable tenant for one of my farms, that's my business and no one +else's." + +"I have no wish to argue the question, father," she answered quietly. + +"But I suppose you will own that the fellow is guilty?" + +"No, father. I am quite sure that he is no more guilty than I am." + +"What folly!" he ejaculated angrily. + +"I do not think it is folly at all. I know Ralph Penlogan better than +you do, and I know he is incapable of such a thing. At the Assizes you +will be made to look incredibly foolish." + +"What? what?" he ejaculated. + +"Here, all the magistrates belong to your set. They had made up their +minds beforehand. No unprejudiced jury in the world would ever convict +on such evidence." + +"Child," he said angrily, "you don't know what you are talking about." + +"And even if he were convicted," she went on, with flashing eyes, "I +should know all the same that he is innocent." + +He looked at her almost aghast. This was worse than his worst +suspicions. + +"Then you have made up your mind," he said, with a brave effort to +control himself, "to believe that he is innocent, whatever judge or jury +may say?" + +"I know he is innocent," she answered quietly. + +"You are a little simpleton," he said, clenching and unclenching his +hands; "a foolish, headstrong girl. I am grieved at you, ashamed of you! +I did expect ordinary common sense in my daughter." + +"I am sorry you are angry with me," she said demurely. "But think again. +Are you not biased and prejudiced? You are not sure it was his face you +saw. In all probability the gun going off was pure accident. Have you +not been hard enough on the Penlogans already, that you persist in +having this on your conscience also?" + +"Silence!" he almost screamed, and he advanced a step towards her with +clenched hand. "Go to your room," he cried, "and don't show your face +again to-day! To-morrow I will talk to you, and not only talk but act." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE BIG HOUSE + + +It was when Mrs. Penlogan began to dispose of her furniture in order to +provide food and fuel that the landlord became alarmed about his rent, +and so promptly seized what remained in order to make himself secure. + +It was three days after Christmas, and the weather was bitterly cold. +Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth looked at each other for a moment in silence, and +then burst into tears. What was to be done now she did not know. Ralph +was still in prison awaiting his trial, and so was powerless to help +them. Their money was all spent. Even their furniture was gone, and they +had no friends to whom they could turn for help. + +Since Ralph's committal their old friends had fought shy of them. Ruth +felt the disgrace more keenly than did her mother. The cold looks of +people they had befriended in their better days cut her to the heart. +Ruth had tried to get the post of sewing mistress at the day school, +which had become vacant, but the fact that her brother was in prison +awaiting his trial proved an insuperable barrier. It would never do to +contaminate the tender hearts of the young by bringing them into contact +with one whose brother had been accused of a terrible crime. + +She never realised before how sensitive the public conscience was, nor +how jealous all the St. Goramites were for the honour of the community. +People whom she had always understood were no better than they ought to +be, turned up their noses at her in haughty disdain. But that it was so +tragic, she could have laughed at the virtuous airs assumed by people +whose private life had long been the talk of the district. + +It was a terrible blow to Ruth. The Penlogans, though looked upon as +somewhat exclusive, had been widely respected. David Penlogan was a man +in a thousand. Mistaken, some people thought, foolish in the investment +of his money, and much too trusting where human nature was involved, but +his sincerity and goodness no one doubted. The young people had been +less admired, for they seemed a little above their station. They spoke +the language of the gentry, and kept aloof from everything that savoured +of vulgarity. "They were too well educated for their position." + +Their sudden and painful fall proved an occasion for much moralising. +"Pride goeth before a fall," was a passage of Scripture that found great +acceptance. If the Penlogans had not been so exclusive in their better +days, they would not have found themselves so destitute of friends now. + +Two or three days practically without food or fire reduced Ruth and her +mother to a state bordering on despair. If they had possessed any pride +in the past it was all gone now. Hunger is a great leveller. + +The relieving officer, when consulted, had little in the way of comfort +to offer, though he gave much sage advice. He had little doubt that the +parish would allow Mrs. Penlogan half a crown a week; that was the limit +of outdoor relief. Her husband had paid scores of pounds in the shape of +poor rate, but that counted for nothing. The justice of the strong +manifests itself in many ways. When a man is no longer able to +contribute to the maintenance of paupers in general, he becomes a pauper +himself. Cease to pay your poor rate, because you are too old to work, +and you cease to be a citizen, your vote is taken away, you are classed +among the social rubbish of your generation. + +"But what is to become of me?" Ruth asked pitifully. + +The relieving officer stroked the side of his nose and considered the +question for a moment before he answered. + +"I'm afraid," he said, "the law makes no provision for such as you. You +see you are a able-bodied young woman. You must earn your own living." + +"That is what I have been trying my best to do," she answered tearfully. +"But because poor Ralph has been wrongfully and wickedly accused, no one +will look at me." + +"That, of course, we cannot 'elp," the relieving officer answered. + +Ruth and her mother lay awake all the night and talked the matter over. +It was clearly beyond the bounds of possibility that two people could +live and pay rent out of half a crown a week. What then was to be done? +There was only one alternative, and Ruth had not the courage to face it. +Her mother was in feeble health, her spirit was broken, and to send her +alone into the workhouse would be to break her heart. + +The maximum of cruelty with the minimum of charity appears to be the +principle on which our poor-law system is based. The sensitive and +self-respecting loathe the very thought of it, and no man with a heart +in him can wonder. + +Mrs. Penlogan, however, had reached the limit of mental suffering. There +comes a point when the utmost is reached, when the lash can do no more, +when the nerves refuse to carry any heavier burden of pain. To the sad +and broken-hearted woman it seemed of little moment what became of her. +All that she asked was a lonely corner somewhere in which she might hide +herself and die. + +She knew almost by instinct what was passing through Ruth's mind. She +lay silent, but she was not asleep. + +"You are thinking about the workhouse, Ruth?" she said at length. + +"They'll not have me there, mother, for I am healthy and able-bodied." + +"There'll be something left from the furniture when the rent is paid," +Mrs. Penlogan said, after a long pause. "You'll have to take it and face +the world. When I am in the workhouse you will be much more free." + +"Mother!" + +"It's got to come, Ruth. I would much rather go down to St. Ivel and +throw myself into a shaft, but that would be self-murder, and a murderer +cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. So I will endure as patiently +as I can, and as long as God wills. When it is over, it will seem but a +dream. I want to see father again when the night ends. Dear David, I am +glad he went when he did." + +"If he had lived we should not have come to this," Ruth answered +tearfully. + +"If he had lived a paralytic, Ruth, our lot would have been even worse. +So it is better that God took him before he became a burden to himself." + +"And yet but for the cruel laws made by the rich and powerful he would +still be with us, and we should not have been turned out of the dear old +home." + +"That is over and past, Ruth," Mrs. Penlogan answered, with a sigh. "Ah +me! if this life were all, it would not be worth the living--at least +for the poor and oppressed. But we have to endure as best we may. You +can tell Mr. Thomas that I will go to the workhouse whenever he likes to +fetch me." + +"Do you really mean it, mother?" + +"Yes, Ruth. I've thought it all over. It's the only thing left. It +wouldn't be right to lie here and die of starvation. Maybe when the +storm has spent itself there will come a time of peace." + +"Yes, in the grave, mother." + +"If God so wills," she answered. "But I would like to live to see +Ralph's name cleared before the world." + +"I have almost given up hope of that," Ruth answered sadly. "How can the +poor defend themselves against the rich? Poor Ralph will stand +undefended before judge and jury, and we have seen how easy it is to +work up a case and make every link fit into its place." + +"Perhaps God will stand by him," Mrs. Penlogan answered, but in doubting +tones. "Oh, if I only had faith as I once had! But I seem like a reed +that has been broken by the storm. I try my hardest to believe, but +doubts will come. And yet, who knows, God may be better than our fears." + +"God appears to be on the side of the rich and strong," Ruth answered, a +little defiantly. "Why should John Hamblyn be allowed to work his will +on everybody? Even his daughter is kept a prisoner at home, lest she +should show her sympathy to us." + +"That is only gossip, Ruth. She may have no desire to come, or she may +not have the courage. She knows now the part her father has played." + +To this Ruth made no answer, and then silence fell until it was time to +get up. + +The day passed for the most part as the night had done, in discussing +the situation. The last morsel of food in the house had disappeared, and +strict watch was kept that they pawned no more of the furniture. + +Mrs. Penlogan never once faltered in her purpose. + +"It will be better than dying of starvation," she said. "Besides, it +will set you free." + +"Free?" Ruth gasped. "It will be a strange kind of freedom to find +oneself in a hostile world alone." + +"You will be able to defend yourself, Ruth, and I do not think anyone +will molest you." + +"Please don't imagine that I am afraid," Ruth answered defiantly. "But +you, mother, in that big, cheerless house, will break your heart," and +she burst into tears. + +"No, don't fret, child," the mother said soothingly. "My heart cannot be +broken any more than it is already. Maybe I shall grow more cheerful +when I've had enough to eat." + +On the following day Ruth went with her mother in the workhouse van to +the big house. It was the most silent journey she ever took, and the +saddest. She would rather have followed her mother to the cemetery--at +least, so she thought at the time. There was such a big lump in her +throat that she could not talk. Her mother seemed only vaguely to +comprehend what the journey meant. Her eyes saw nothing on the way, her +thoughts were in some far-distant place. She got out of the van quite +nimbly when they reached the end of their journey, and stood for a +moment on the threshold as if undecided. + +"You had better not come in," she said at length. "We will say good-bye +here." + +"Do you think you can bear it, mother?" Ruth questioned, the tears +welling suddenly up into her eyes. + +"Oh yes," she answered, with a pathetic smile. "There'll be nothing to +worry about, you know, and I shall have plenty to eat." + +Ruth threw her arms about her mother's neck and burst into a passion of +tears. "Oh, I never thought we should come to this!" she sobbed. + +[Illustration: "RUTH THREW HER ARMS ABOUT HER MOTHER'S NECK AND BURST +INTO A PASSION OF TEARS."] + +"It won't matter, my girl, when we are in heaven," was the quiet and +patient answer. + +"But we are not in heaven, mother. We are here on this wicked, cruel +earth, and it breaks my heart to see you suffer so." + +"My child, the suffering is in the past. The storm has done its worst. I +feel as though I couldn't worry any more. I am just going to be still +and wait." + +"I shall come and see you as often as I can," Ruth said, giving her +mother a final hug, "and you'll not lose heart, will you?" + +"No. I shall think of you and Ralph, and if there's a ray of hope +anywhere I shall cherish it." + +So they parted. Ruth watched her mother march away through a long +corridor in charge of an attendant, watched her till a door swung and +hid her from sight. Then, brushing her hand resolutely across her eyes, +she turned away to face the world alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DEVELOPMENTS + + +The Penlogans' cottage had been empty two full days before the people of +St. Goram became aware that anything unusual had happened. That Ruth and +her mother were reduced to considerable straits was a matter of common +knowledge. People could not dispose of a quantity of their furniture +without the whole neighbourhood getting to know, and in several +quarters--notably at the Wheat Sheaf, and in Dick Lowry's smithy, and in +the shop of William Menire, general dealer--the question was discussed +as to how long the Penlogans could hold out, and what would become of +them in the end. + +To offer them charity was what no one had the courage to do, and for a +Penlogan to ask it was almost inconceivable. Since the event which had +landed Ralph in prison, Mrs. Penlogan and Ruth had withdrawn themselves +more than ever from public gaze. They evidently wanted to see no one, +and it was equally clear they desired no one to see them. What little +shopping they did was done after dark, and when Ruth went to chapel she +stole in late, and retired before the congregation could get a look at +her. + +Hence for two days no one noticed that no smoke appeared above the +chimney of the Penlogans' cottage, and that no one had been seen going +in or coming out of the house. On the third day, however, William +Menire--whose store they had patronised while they had any money to +spend--became uneasy in his mind on account of the non-appearance of +Ruth. + +His thoughts had been turned in her direction because he had been +expecting for some time that she would be asking for credit, and he had +seriously considered the matter as to what answer he should make. To +trust people who had no assets and no income was, on the face of it, a +very risky proceeding. On the other hand, Ruth Penlogan had such a sweet +and winning face, and was altogether so good to look upon, that he felt +he would have considerable difficulty in saying no to her. William was a +man who was rapidly reaching the old age of youth, and so far had +resisted successfully all the blandishments of the fair sex; but he had +to own to himself that if he were thrown much in the company of Ruth +Penlogan he would have to tighten up the rivets of his armour, or else +weakly and ignominiously surrender. + +While the Penlogans lived at Hillside he knew very little of them. They +did not deal with him, and he had no opportunity of making their +acquaintance. But since they came to the cottage Ruth had often been in +his shop to make some small purchase. He sold everything, from flour to +hob nails and from calico to mouse traps, and Ruth had found his shop in +this respect exceedingly convenient. It saved her from running all over +the village to make her few purchases. + +William had been impressed from the first by her gentle ways and her +refined manner of speech. She spoke with the tone and accent of the +quality, and had he not been informed who she was he would have taken +her for some visitor at one of the big houses. + +For two days William had watched with considerable interest for Ruth's +appearance. He felt that it did him good to look into her sweet, serious +eyes, and he had come to the conclusion that if she asked for credit he +would not be able to say no. He might have to wait for a considerable +time for his money, but after all money was not everything--the +friendship of a girl like Ruth Penlogan was surely worth something. + +As the third morning, however, wore away, and Ruth did not put in an +appearance, William--as we have seen--got a little anxious. And when his +mother--who kept house for him--was able to take his place behind the +counter, he took off his apron, put on his bowler hat, and stole away +through the village in the direction of St. Ivel. + +The cottage stood quite alone, just over the boundary of St. Goram +parish, and was almost hidden by a tall thorn hedge. As William drew +near he noticed that the chimneys were smokeless, and this did not help +to allay his anxiety. As he walked up to the door he noticed that none +of the blinds were drawn, and this in some measure reassured him. + +He knocked loudly with his knuckles, and waited. After awhile he knocked +again, and drew nearer the door and listened. A third time he knocked, +and then he began to get a little concerned. He next tried the handle, +and discovered that the door was locked. + +"Well, this is curious, to say the least of it," he reflected. "I hope +they are not both dead in the house together." + +After awhile he seized the door handle and gave the door a good rattle, +but no one responded to the assault, and with a puzzled expression in +his eyes William heaved a sigh, and began to retrace his steps towards +the village. + +"I'll go to Budda," he said to himself. "A policeman ought to know what +to do for the best. Anyhow, if a policeman breaks into a house, nobody +gets into trouble for it." And he quickened his pace till he was almost +out of breath. + +As good luck would have it, he met Budda half-way up the village, and at +once took him into his confidence. + +Budda put on an expression of great profundity. + +"I think we ought to break into the house," William said hurriedly. + +This proposition Budda negatived at once. To do what anyone else advised +would show lack of originality on the part of the force. If William had +suggested that they ask Dick Lowry the smith to pick the lock, Budda +would have gone at once and battered the door down. Initiative and +originality are the chief characteristics of the men in blue. + +"Let me see," said Budda, looking wise and stroking his chin with great +tenderness, "Amos Bice the auctioneer is the landlord, if I'm not +greatly mistook." + +"Then possibly he knows something?" William said anxiously. + +"Possibly he do," Budda answered oracularly. "I will walk on and see +him." + +"I will walk along with you," William replied. "I confess I'm getting a +bit curious. Everybody knows, of course, that they're terribly hard up, +though I must say they've paid cash down for everything got at my +store." + +"Been disposing of their furniture, I hear," Budda said shortly. + +"So it is reported," William replied. "That implies sore straits, and +they are not the sort of people, by all accounts, to ask for help." + +"Would die sooner," Budda replied laconically. + +"Then perhaps they're dead," William said, with a little gasp. "It must +be terrible hard for people who have known better days." + +Amos Bice looked up with a start when Budda and William Menire entered +his small office. + +"I have come to inquire," Budda began, quite ignoring his companion, "if +you know anything about--well, about what has become of the Penlogans?" + +"Well, I do--of course," he said, slowly and reflectively; though why he +should have added "of course" was not quite clear. + +William began to breathe a little more freely. Budda looked +disappointed. Budda revelled in mysteries, and when a mystery was +cleared up all the interest was taken out of it. + +"Then you know where they are?" Budda questioned shortly. + +"I know where the mother is--I am not so sure of the daughter. But +naturally it is not a matter that I care to talk about, particularly as +they did not wish their doings to be the subject of common gossip." + +"May I ask why you do not care to talk about them?" Budda questioned +severely. + +"Well, it's this way. I'm the owner of the cottage, as perhaps you know. +The rent is paid quarterly in advance. They paid their first quarter at +Michaelmas. The next was due, of course, at Christmas. Well, you see, I +found they were getting rid of their furniture rapidly, and in my own +interests I had naturally to put a stop to it. Well, this brought things +to a head. You see, the boy is in prison awaiting his trial, the mother +is ailing, and the girl has found no way yet of earning her living, or +hadn't a week ago. So, being brought to a full stop, they had to face +the question and submit to the inevitable. I took all the furniture at a +valuation--in fact, for a good deal more than it was worth--and after +subtracting the rent, handed them over the balance. Mr. Thomas got an +order for the old lady to go into the workhouse, and the girl, as I +understand, is going to try to get a place in domestic service." + +William Menire almost groaned. The idea of this sweet, gentle, ladylike +girl being an ordinary domestic drudge seemed almost an outrage. + +"And how long ago is all this?" Budda asked severely. + +"Oh, just the day before yesterday. No, let me see. It was the day +before that." + +"And you have said nothing about it?" + +"It was no business of mine to gossip over other people's affairs." + +"They seem to have been very brave people," William remarked timidly. + +"What some people would call proud," the auctioneer replied. "Not that I +object. I like to see people showing a little proper pride. Some people +would have boasted that they had heaps of money coming to them, and +would have gone into debt everywhere. The Penlogans wouldn't buy a thing +they couldn't pay for." + +"It's what I call a great come down for them," Budda remarked +sententiously; and then the two men took their departure, Budda to +spread the news of the Penlogans' last descent in the social scale, and +William to meditate more or less sadly on the chances of human life. + +Before the church clock pointed to the hour of noon all St. Goram was +agog with the news, and for the rest of the day little else was talked +about. People were very sorry, of course--at any rate, they said they +were; they paid lip service to the god of convention. It was a great +come down for people who had occupied a good position, but the ways of +Providence were very mysterious, and their duty was to be very grateful +that no such calamity had overtaken them. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A CONFESSION + + +The vicar was in the throes of a new sermon when the news reached him. +He had been at work on the sermon all the day, for its delivery was to +be a great effort. Hence, it was long after dark before the tidings +filtered through to his study. + +Mr. Seccombe laid down his pen, and looked thoughtful. The news sent his +thoughts running along an entirely new track. The thread of his sermon +was cut clean through, and every effort he made to pick up the ends and +splice them proved a dismal failure. From the triumphs of grace his +thoughts drifted away to the mysteries of Providence. + +He pulled himself up with a jerk at length. How much had God to do, +after all, with what men called Providence? Was it the purpose of God +that his boy Julian should grow into a fighter? Was it part of the same +purpose that he should be killed in a distant land by an Arab's lance; +that out of that should grow the commercial ruin of one of the +saintliest men in the parish; and that his wife, in the closing years of +her life, should be driven into the cold shadow of the workhouse? + +John Seccombe got up from his chair and began to pace up and down the +study. + +He was interrupted in his meditations by a feeble knock on his study +door. + +"Come in," he said, pausing in his walk; and he waited a little +impatiently for the door to open. + +"A young man wants to see you, sir," the housemaid said, opening the +door just wide enough to show her face. + +"Who is he?" + +"I don't know, sir. He did not give any name." + +"Some shy young man who wants to get married, I expect," was the thought +that passed through Mr. Seccombe's mind. + +"Show him in," he said, after a pause. And a moment or two later a +pale-faced young man came shyly and hesitatingly into the room. He +carried a cloth cap in his hand, and was dressed in a badly fitting suit +of tweed. + +Mr. Seccombe looked at him for a moment inquiringly. He thought he knew, +by sight, nearly everybody in the parish, but he was not sure that he +had seen this young man before. + +"Will you take a seat?" he said, anxious to put the young man at his +ease; for he was still convinced that this was a timid bachelor, who +wanted to make arrangements for getting married. + +"I would prefer to stand, if you don't mind," he answered, toying +nervously with his cap. + +"As you will," the vicar said, with a smile. "I presume you are about to +take to yourself a wife?" + +"Me? Oh dear, no. I've something else to think of." + +"I beg your pardon," the vicar said, feeling a little confused. "I +thought, perhaps----" + +"Nothing so pleasant," was the hurried answer. "The fact is, I've come +upon a job that--well, I hardly know if I can tell it, now I've come." + +The vicar began to feel interested. + +"You had better take a seat," he said. "You will feel more comfortable." + +The young man dropped into an easy-chair and stared at the fire. He was +not a bad-looking young fellow. His face was pale, as though he worked +underground, and his cheeks were thin enough to suggest too little +nourishing food. + +"The truth is, I only made up my mind an hour ago," he said abruptly. + +"Yes?" the vicar said encouragingly. + +"You have heard of that poor woman being carried off to the workhouse, I +expect." + +"You mean Mrs. Penlogan?" + +"Ay! Well, that floored me. I felt that I could hold out no longer. I +meant to have waited to see which way the trial went----" + +"Yes?" the vicar said again, seeing he hesitated. + +"I've always believed that no jury that wasn't prejudiced would convict +him on the evidence." + +"You refer to Ralph Penlogan, of course?" + +"The young man who's in prison on the charge of shooting Squire Hamblyn. +Do you think he's anything like me?" + +"You certainly are not unlike him in the general outline of your face. +But, of course, anyone who knows young Penlogan----" + +"Would never mistake him for me," the other interrupted. + +"Well, I should say not, certainly." + +"And yet bigger mistakes have been made. But I'd better tell you the +whole story. I don't know what'll become of mother and the young ones, +but I can't bear it any longer, and that's a fact. When I heard that +that poor woman had been took off to the workhouse, I said to myself, +'Jim Brewer, you're a coward.' And that's the reason I'm here----" + +"Yes?" said the vicar again, and waited for his visitor to proceed. + +"It was I who shot the squire!" + +The vicar started, but did not speak. + +"I had no notion that he was about, or I shouldn't have ventured into +the plantation, you may be quite sure. I was after anything I could +get--hare, or rabbit, or pheasant, or barnyard fowl, if nothing else +turned up." + +"Then you were poaching?" said the vicar. + +"Call it anything you like, but if you was in my place, maybe you'd have +done the same. There hadn't been a bit of fresh meat in our house for a +fortnight, and little Fred, who'd been ill, was just pining away. You +see I'd been off work, through crushing my thumb, for a whole month, and +we'd got to the end of the tether. Butcher wouldn't trust us no further, +and we'd been living on dry bread and a little skimmed milk, with a +vegetable now and then. It was terrible hard on us all. I didn't mind +myself so much, but to see the little one go hungry----" + +"But what does your father do?" the vicar interrupted. + +"Father was killed in the mine six years agone, and I've been the only +one as has earned anything since. Well, you see, I took the old +musket--though I knew, of course, I had no licence--and I went out on +the common to shoot anything as came in the way--but nothing turned up. +Then I went into the plantation, and as I was getting over a hedge I +came face to face with the squire. + +"Well, I draws back in a moment, and that very moment something catches +the trigger, and off the gun went. A minute after I heard the squire +a-howling and a-screaming like mad, and when next I looks over the hedge +he was running for dear life and shouting at the top of his voice. + +"Well, I just hid myself in the 'browse' till it was dark, and then I +creeps home empty-handed and never said a word to nobody. Well, next +day, in the mine, I hears as how young Penlogan had been took up on the +charge of trying to murder the squire. I never thought nobody would +convict him, and if I'd been in the police court when he were sent to +the Assizes I couldn't have kept the truth back. But you see I weren't +there, and I says to myself that no jury with two ounces of brains will +say he's guilty; and so I reckon I'd have held out till the Assizes if I +hadn't heard they'd took his poor old mother off to the workhouse. That +finished me. I says to myself, 'Jim Brewer, you're a coward,' I says, +and I made up my mind then and there to tell the truth. And so I've come +to you, being a parson and a magistrate. And the story I've told you is +gospel truth, as sure as I'm a living man." + +"It seems a very great pity you did not tell this story before," the +vicar said reflectively. + +"Ay, that's true enough. But I hadn't the courage somehow. You see, I +made sure he'd come out all right in the end; and then I thought of +mother and little Fred, and Jack and Mary and Peggy, and somehow I +couldn't bring myself to face it. It was the poor woman being drove to +the workhouse as did it. I think I'd rather die than that my mother +should go there." + +"I really can't see, for the life of me, why you working people so much +object to the workhouse," the vicar said, in a tone of irritation. "It's +a very comfortable house; the inmates are well treated in every way, and +there isn't a pauper in the House to-day that isn't better off than when +outside." + +"Maybe it's the name of it, sir," the young man went on. "But I feel +terrible bitter against the place. But the point now is, what are we +going to do with Ralph Penlogan, and what are you going to do with me?" + +"Well, really I hardly know," the vicar said, looking uncomfortable. +"You do not own to committing any crime. You were trespassing, +certainly--perhaps I ought to say poaching. But--well, I think I ought +to consult Mr. Tregonning, and--well, yes--Budda. Would you mind waiting +while I send and ask Mr. Tregonning to come on?" + +"No; I'll do anything you wish. Now I've started, I want to go straight +on to the end." + +Mr. Seccombe was back again in a few moments. + +"May I ask," he said, with his eyes on the carpet, "if you saw anyone on +the afternoon in question, or if anyone saw you?" + +"Only Bilkins." + +"He's one of Sir John's gardeners, I think." + +"Very likely." + +"And you were in the plantation when he saw you?" + +"Oh no; I was on the common." + +"And you were carrying the gun?" + +"Well, you see, I pushed it into a furze bush when he come along, for, +as I told you, I had no gun licence." + +"Did he speak to you?" + +"Ay. He passed the time of day, and asked if I had any sport." + +"And you saw no one else?" + +"Nobody but the squire." + +Later in the day Bilkins was sent for, and arrived at the vicarage much +wondering what was in the wind. He wondered still more when he was +ushered into the vicar's library, and found himself face to face with +Budda, Mr. Tregonning, and Jim Brewer, in addition to the vicar. For +several moments he looked from one to another with an expression of +utter astonishment on his face. + +"I have sent for you, Bilkins," said the vicar mildly, "in order to ask +you one or two questions that seem of some importance at the present +moment." + +"Yes, sir," said Bilkins, looking, if possible, more puzzled than +before. + +"Can you recall the afternoon on which Sir John Hamblyn was shot?" + +"Why, yes, sir. Very well, sir." + +"Did you cross Polskiddy Downs that afternoon?" + +"I did, sir." + +"Did you see anybody on the downs?" + +"Well, only Jim Brewer. We met accidental like." + +"What was he doing?" + +"Well, he wasn't doing nothing. He was just standing still with his +'ands in his pockets lookin' round him and whistlin'." + +"Was he carrying a gun?" + +"Oh no, sir. He had nothin' in his 'ands." + +"Did you see a gun?" + +Bilkins glanced apprehensively at Jim Brewer, and then at the policeman. + +"Well, no," he said, with considerable hesitation. "I didn't see no +gun--that is----" + +"Did you see any part of a gun?" Mr. Tregonning interjected. + +"Well, sir, I don't wish to do no 'arm to nobody," Bilkins stammered, +growing very red, "but I did see somethin' stickin' out of a furze bush +as might have been a gun." + +"The stock of a gun, perhaps?" + +"Well, no; but it might 'ave been the barrel." + +"You did not say anything to Brewer?" + +"Well, I might, as a kind of joke, 'ave axed him if he 'ad any sport, +but it weren't my place to be inquisitive." + +"And was this far from the plantation?" + +"Oh no; it were almost close." + +"Then why, may I ask," interjected the vicar sternly, "did you not +volunteer this information when the question was raised as to who shot +your master?" + +"Never thought on it, sir. Jim Brewer is a chap as couldn't hurt +nobody." + +"And yet the fact remains that you saw him close to the plantation on +the afternoon on which Sir John was shot, and that no one saw Ralph +Penlogan near the place." + +"Yes, sir," Bilkins said vacantly. + +"But what explanation or excuse have you to offer for such dereliction +of duty?" + +"For what, sir?" + +"You must know, surely, that information was sought in all directions +that would throw any light on the question." + +"No one axed me anything, sir." + +"But you might have told what you knew without being asked." + +Bilkins looked perplexed, and remained silent. + +"Why did you not inform someone of what you had seen?" Mr. Tregonning +interposed. + +"Well, you see, sir, Sir John had made up his mind as 'twas young +Penlogan as shot him. He see'd his face as he was a-climbing over the +hedge, an' he ought to know; and besides, sir, it ain't my place to +contradict my betters." + +"Oh, indeed!" And Mr. Tregonning, as one of his "betters," looked almost +as puzzled as Bilkins. + +After a few more questions had been asked and answered, there was a +general adjournment to Hamblyn Manor. + +Sir John was on the point of retiring for the night when he was startled +by a loud ringing of the door bell, and a moment or two later he heard +the vicar's voice in the hall. + +Throwing open the library door, he came face to face with Mr. Seccombe +and Mr. Tregonning, two or three shadowy figures bringing up the rear. + +"We must ask your pardon, Sir John, for intruding at this late hour," +the vicar said, constituting himself chief spokesman, "but Mr. +Tregonning and myself felt that the matter was of so much importance +that there ought to be not an hour's unnecessary delay." + +"Indeed; will you come into the library?" Sir John said pompously, +though he felt not a little curious as to what was in the wind. + +Standing with his back against the mantelpiece, Sir John motioned his +visitors to seats. Budda, however, elected to stand guard over the door. + +For several moments there was silence, while the vicar looked at Mr. +Tregonning and Mr. Tregonning looked at the vicar. + +At last they appeared to understand each other, and the vicar cleared +his throat. + +"The truth is, Sir John," he began, "I was interrupted in my work this +evening by a visit from this young man"--inclining his head toward +Brewer--"who informed me that it was he who shot you, accidentally, on +the 29th September last----" + +"Stuff and nonsense," Sir John snapped, withdrawing his shoulders +suddenly from the mantelpiece. "Do you think I don't know a face when I +see it?" + +"And yet, sir, it were my face you saw," Brewer interposed suddenly. + +"Don't believe it," Sir John replied, with a snort. + +"You must admit, sir," Mr. Tregonning interposed apologetically, "that +this young man is not unlike Ralph Penlogan." + +"No more like him than I am," Sir John retorted, almost angrily. + +"Anyhow, you had better hear the story from the young man's lips," said +the vicar mildly, "then your own man Bilkins will give evidence that he +saw him close to the plantation on the afternoon in question." + +"Then why did you not say so?" Sir John snarled, glaring angrily at his +gardener. + +"'Tweren't for the likes of me," Bilkins said humbly, "to say anything +as would seem to contradict what you said. I hopes I know my place." + +"I hope you do," Sir John growled; and then he turned his attention to +the young miner. + +Brewer told his story straightforwardly and without any outward sign of +nervousness. He had braced himself to the task--his nerves were strung +up to the highest point of tension, and he was determined to see the +thing through now, cost what it might. + +Sir John listened with half-closed eyes and a heavy frown upon his brow. +He was far more angry than he would like anyone to know at the course +events were taking. He saw clearly enough that, from his point of view, +this was worse than a verdict of "not guilty" at the Assizes. This +story, if accepted, would clear Ralph Penlogan absolutely. Not even the +shadow of a suspicion would remain. Moreover, it would lay him (Sir +John) open to the charge of vindictiveness. + +As soon as Brewer had finished the story, the squire subjected him to a +severe and lengthy cross-examination, all of which he bore with quiet +composure, and every question he answered simply and directly. + +Then Bilkins was called upon to tell his story, which Sir John listened +to with evident disgust. + +It was getting decidedly late when all the questions had been asked and +answered, and Budda was growing impatient to know what part he was to +play in the little drama. He was itching to arrest somebody. It would +have been a relief to him if he could have arrested both Brewer and +Bilkins. + +Sir John and his brother magistrates withdrew at length to another room, +while Budda kept guard with renewed vigilance. + +"Now," said the vicar, when the door had closed behind the trio, "what +is the next step?" + +"Let the law take its course," said Sir John angrily. + +"It will take its course in any case," said Mr. Tregonning. "The +confession of Brewer, and the corroborative evidence of Bilkins, must be +forwarded at once to the proper quarter. But the question is, Sir John, +will you still hold to the charge of malicious shooting, or only of +trespass?" + +"If this story is accepted, I'll wash my hands of the whole +business--there now!" And Sir John pushed his hands into his pockets and +looked furious. + +"I don't quite see why you should treat the matter in this way," the +vicar said mildly. + +"You don't?" Sir John questioned, staring hard at him. "You don't see +that it will make fools of the whole lot of us; that it will turn the +tide of popular sympathy against the entire bench of magistrates, and +against me in particular; that it will do more harm to the gentry than +fifty elections?" + +"That's a very narrow view to take," the vicar said, with spirit. "We +should care for the right and do the right, though the heavens fall." + +"That may be all right to preach in church," Sir John said irritably, +"but in practical life we do the best we can for ourselves, unless we +are fools." + +"Then you'll not proceed against this young man for trespass?" Mr. +Tregonning inquired. + +"I tell you I'll wash my hands of the whole affair, and I mean it. It's +bad enough to be made a fool of once, without playing the same game a +second time," and Sir John strutted round the room like an angered +turkey. + +"Then there's no excuse for keeping young Brewer here any longer, or of +keeping you out of your bed," said the vicar, and he made for the door, +followed by Mr. Tregonning. + +Five minutes later the door closed on his guests, and Sir John found +himself once more alone. + +"Well, this is a kettle of fish," he said to himself angrily, as he +paced up and down the room; "a most infernal kettle of fish, I call it. +I shouldn't be surprised if before a week is out that young scoundrel +will be heralded by a brass band playing 'See the Conquering Hero +comes.' And, of course, every ounce of sympathy will go out to him. +He'll be a kind of martyr, and I shall be execrated as a kind of Legree +and Judge Jeffreys rolled into one. And then, of course, Dorothy will +catch the popular contagion, and will interview him if she has the +chance; and he'll make love to her--the villain! And here's Lord Probus +bullying me, and every confounded money-lending Jew in the neighbourhood +dunning me for money, and Geoffrey taking to extravagant ways with more +alacrity than I did before him. I wonder if any other man in the county +is humbugged as I am?" + +Sir John spent the rest of the waking hours of that night in scheming +how best he could get and keep Dorothy out of the way of Ralph Penlogan. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A SILENT WELCOME + + +If a man is unfortunate enough to find himself in the clutches of what +is euphemistically called "the law," the sooner and the more completely +he can school himself to patience the better for his peace of mind. +Lawyers and legislators do not appear generally to be of a mechanical +turn, and the huge machine which they have constructed for the purpose +of discovering and punishing criminals is apparently without any +reversing gear. The machine will go forward ponderously and cumbrously, +but it will not go backward without an infinite amount of toil and +trouble. Hence, if a man is once caught in its toils, even though he is +innocent, he will, generally speaking, have to go through the mill and +come out at the far end. For such a small and remote contingency as a +miscarriage of justice there is apparently no provision. If the wronged +and deluded man will only have patience, he will come out of the mill in +due course; and if he is but civil, he will be rewarded with a free +pardon and told not to do it again. + +The generosity of the State in compensating those who have been +wrongfully convicted and punished has grown into a proverb. In some +instances they have been actually released before their time has +expired--which, of course, has meant a considerable amount of work for +those who had control of the mill; and work to the highly paid officials +of the State is little less to be dreaded than the plague. + +The whole country had been ringing with Jim Brewer's story for more than +a week before the law officers of the Crown condescended to look at the +matter at all, and when they did look at it they saw so many +technicalities in the way, and so much red tape to be unwound, that +their hearts failed them. It seemed very inconsiderate of this Jim +Brewer to speak at all after he had kept silent so long, particularly as +the Grand Jury would so soon have the case before them. + +Meanwhile Ralph was waiting with as much patience as he could command +for the day of the trial. That he would be found guilty he could not +bring himself to believe. The more he reviewed the case, the more angry +and disgusted he felt with the local Solomons who had sat in judgment on +him. He was disposed almost to blame them more than he blamed the +squire. Sir John might have some grounds for supposing that he (Ralph) +had deliberately fired at him. But that the great unpaid of St. Goram +and neighbouring parishes could be so blind and stupid filled him with +disgust. + +For himself, he did not mind the long delay so much; but as the days +grew into weeks, his anxiety respecting his mother and Ruth grew into +torment. He knew that their little spare cash could not possibly hold +out many weeks, and then what would happen? + +He had heard nothing from them for a long time, and Bodmin was so far +away from St. Goram that they could not visit him. He wondered if they +had reached such straits that they could not afford a postage stamp. The +more he speculated on the matter the more alarmed he got. The letters he +had been allowed to send had received no answer. And it seemed so unlike +his mother and Ruth to remain silent if they were able to write. + +Of Jim Brewer's story he knew nothing, for newspapers did not come his +way, and none of the prison officials had the kindness to tell him. So +he waited and wondered as the slow days crept painfully past, and grew +thin and hollow-eyed, and wished that he had never been born. + +The end came nearly a month after Jim Brewer had told his story. He was +condescendingly informed one morning that his innocence having been +clearly established, the Crown would offer no evidence in support of the +charge, and the Grand Jury had therefore thrown out the bill of +indictment. This would mean his immediate liberation. + +For several moments he felt unable to speak, and he sat down and hid his +face in his hands. Then slowly the meaning of the words he had listened +to began to take shape in his mind. + +"You say my innocence has been established?" he questioned at length. + +"That is so." + +"By what means?" + +The governor told him without unnecessary words. + +"How long ago was this?" + +"I do not quite know. Not many weeks I think." + +"Not many weeks! Good heavens! You mean that I have been allowed to +suffer in this inferno after my innocence was established?" + +"With that I have nothing to do. Better quietly and thankfully take your +departure." + +Ralph raised a pair of blazing eyes, then turned on his heel. He felt as +though insult had been heaped upon insult. + +His brain seemed almost on fire when at length he stepped through the +heavy portal and found himself face to face with William Menire. + +Ralph stared at him for several moments in astonishment. Why, of all the +people in the world, should William Menire come to meet him? They had +never been friends--they could scarcely be called acquaintances. + +William, however, did not allow him to pursue this train of thought. +Springing forward at once, he grasped Ralph by the hand. + +"I made inquiries," he said, speaking rapidly, "and I couldn't find out +that anybody was coming to meet you. And I thought you might feel a bit +lonely and cheerless, for the weather is nipping cold. So I brought a +warm rug with me, and I've ordered breakfast at the King's Arms; for +there ain't no train till a quarter-past ten, and we'll be home by----" + +Then he stopped suddenly, for Ralph had burst into tears. + +The prison fare, the iron hand of the law, the bitter injustice he had +suffered so long, had only hardened him. He had shed not a single tear +during all the months of his incarceration. But this touch of human +kindness from one who was almost a stranger broke him down completely, +and he hid his face in his hands, and sobbed outright. + +William looked at him in bewilderment. + +"I hope I have not said anything that's hurt you?" he questioned +anxiously. + +"No, no," Ralph said chokingly. "It's your kindness that has unmanned me +for a moment. You are almost a stranger, and I have no claim upon you +whatever." And he began to sob afresh. + +"Oh, well, if that's all, I don't mind," William said, with a cheerful +smile. "You see, we are neighbours--at least we were. And if a man can't +do a neighbourly deed when he has a chance, he ain't worth much." + +Ralph lifted his head at length, and wiped his eyes. + +"Pardon me for being so weak," he said. "But I didn't expect----" + +"Of course you didn't," William interrupted. "I knew it would be a +surprise to you. But hadn't we better be going? I don't want the +breakfast at the King's Arms to get cold." + +"A word first," Ralph said eagerly. "Are my mother and sister well?" + +"Well, your mother is only middling--nothing serious. But the weather's +been very trying, and her appetite's nothing to speak of. And, you see, +she's worried a good deal about you." + +"And my sister?" he interposed. + +"She's very well, I believe. But let's get out of sight of this place, +or it'll be getting on my nerves." + +A quarter of an hour later they were seated in a cosy room before an +appetising breakfast of steaming ham and eggs. + +Ralph had a difficulty in keeping the tears back. The pleasant room, +hung with pictures, the cheerful fire crackling in the grate, the white +tablecloth and dainty china and polished knives and forks, the hot, +fragrant tea and the delicious ham, were such a contrast from what he +had endured so long, that he felt for a moment or two as if his emotion +would completely overcome him. + +William wisely did not look at him, but gave all his attention to the +victuals, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of seeing his guest +doing full justice to the fare. + +During the journey home they talked mainly about what had happened in +St. Goram since Ralph went away, but William could not bring himself to +tell him the truth about his mother. Again and again he got to the +point, and then his courage failed him. + +At St. Ivel Road, William's trap was waiting for them, and they drove +the two miles to St. Goram in silence. + +Suddenly Ralph reached out his hand as if to grasp the reins. + +"You are driving past our house," he said, in a tone of suppressed +excitement. + +"Yes, that's all right," William answered, in a tone of apparent +unconcern. "They're not there now." + +"Not there?" he questioned, with a gasp. + +"No. You'll come along with me for a bit." + +"But I do not understand," Ralph said, turning eager eyes on William's +face. + +"Oh, I'll explain directly. But look at the crowd of folk." + +William had to bring his horse to a standstill, for the road was +completely blocked. There was no shouting or hurrahing; no band to play +"See the Conquering Hero comes." But the men uncovered their heads, and +tears were running down the women's faces. + +Ralph had to get out of the trap to steer his way as best he could to +William's store. It was a slow and painful process, and yet it had its +compensations. Children tugged at his coat-tails, and hard-fisted men +squeezed his hand in silence, and women held up their chubby babies to +him to be kissed, and young fellows his own age whispered a word of +welcome. It was far more impressive than a noisy demonstration or the +martial strains of a brass band. Of the sympathy of the people there +could be no doubt whatever. Everybody realised now that he had been +cruelly treated--that the suspicion that rested on him at first was base +and unworthy; that he was not the kind of man to do a mean or cowardly +deed; and that the wrong that was done was of a kind that could never be +repaired. + +They wondered as they crowded round him whether he knew of the crowning +humiliation and wrong. The workhouse was a place that most of them +regarded with horror. To become a pauper was to suffer the last +indignity. There was nothing beyond it--no further reproach or shame. + +It was the knowledge that Ralph's mother was in the workhouse, and that +his little home had been broken up--perhaps for ever--that checked the +shout and turned what might have been laughter into tears. Any attempt +at merriment would have been a mockery under such circumstances. They +were glad to see Ralph back again--infinitely glad; but knowing what +they did, the pathos of his coming touched them to the quick. + +Very few words were spoken, but tears fell like rain. Ralph wondered, as +he pressed his way forward toward William Menire's shop, and yet he had +not the courage to ask any questions. Behind the people's silent +sympathy he felt there was something that had not yet been revealed. But +what it was he could not guess. That his mother and Ruth were alive, he +knew, for William had told him so. Perhaps something had happened in St. +Goram that William had not told him, which affected others more than it +affected him. + +William went in front and elbowed a passage for Ralph. + +"We be fine an' glad to see 'ee 'ome again," people whispered here and +there, and Ralph would smile and say "Thank you," and then push on +again. + +William was in a perfect fever of excitement. He had been hoping almost +against hope all the day. Whether his little scheme had succeeded or +miscarried, he could not tell yet. He would know only when he crossed +his own threshold. What his little scheme was he had confided to no one. +If it failed, he could still comfort himself with the thought that he +had done his best. But he still hoped and prayed that what he had tried +so hard to accomplish had come to pass. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WILLIAM MENIRE'S RED-LETTER DAY + + +The crowd pressed close to the door of William's shop, but no one dared +to enter. Ralph followed close upon his heels, still wondering and +fearing. William lifted the flap of his counter and opened the door of +the living-room beyond. No sooner had he done so than his heart gave a +sudden bound. Ruth Penlogan came forward with pale face and eyes full of +tears. + +William's little plan had succeeded. Ruth was present to receive her +brother. William tried to speak, but his voice failed him, and with a +sudden rush of tears he turned back into the shop, closing the door +behind him. + +Ruth fell on her brother's neck, and began to sob. He led her to a +large, antiquated sofa, and sat down by her side. He did not speak. He +could wait till she had recovered herself. She dried her eyes at length +and looked up into his face. + +"You did not expect to see me here?" she questioned. + +"No, I did not, Ruth; but where is mother?" + +"Has he not told you?" + +"Told me? She is not dead, is she?" + +"No, no. She would be happier if she were. Oh, Ralph, it breaks my +heart. I wish we had all died when father was taken." + +"But where is she, Ruth? What has happened? Do tell me." + +"She is in the workhouse, Ralph." + +He sprang to his feet as though he had been shot. + +"Ruth, you lie!" he said, almost in a whisper. + +She began to sob again, and he stood looking at her with white, drawn +face, and a fierce, passionate gleam in his eyes. + +For several moments no other word passed between them. Then he sat down +by her side again. + +"There was no help for it," she sobbed at length. "And mother was quite +content and eager to go." + +"And you allowed it, Ruth," he said, in a tone of reproach. + +"What could I do, Ralph?" she questioned plaintively. "We had spent all, +and the landlord stopped us from selling any more furniture. The parish +would allow her half a crown a week, which would not pay the rent, and I +could get nothing to do." + +He gulped down a lump that had risen in his throat, and clenched his +hands, but he did not speak. + +"She said there was no disgrace in going into the House," Ruth went on; +"that father had paid rates for more than five-and-twenty years, and +that she had a right to all she would get, and a good deal more." + +"Rights go for nothing in this world," he said bitterly. "It is the +strong who win." + +"Mrs. Menire told me this morning that her son would have trusted us to +any amount and for any length of time if he had only known." + +"You did not ask him?" + +"Mother would never consent," she replied. "Besides, Mr. Menire is a +comparative stranger to us." + +"That is true, and yet he has been a true friend to me to-day." + +"I hesitated about accepting his hospitality," Ruth answered, with her +eyes upon the floor. "He sent word yesterday that he had learned you +were to be liberated this morning, and that he was going to Bodmin to +meet you and bring you back, and that his mother would be glad to offer +me hospitality if I would like to meet you here." + +"It was very kind of him, Ruth; but where are you living?" + +"I am in service, Ralph." + +"No!" + +"It is quite true. I was bound to earn my living somehow." + +He laughed a bitter laugh. + +"Prison, workhouse, and domestic service! What may we get to next, do +you think?" + +"But we have not gone into debt or cheated anybody, and we've kept our +consciences clean, Ralph." + +"Yes, ours is a case of virtue rewarded," he answered cynically. +"Honesty sent to prison, and thrift to the workhouse." + +"But we haven't done with life and the world yet." + +"You think there are lower depths in store for us?" + +"I hope not. We may begin to rise now. Let us not despair, Ralph. +Suffering should purify and strengthen us." + +"I don't see how suffering wrongly or unjustly can do anybody any good," +he answered moodily. + +"Nor can I at present. Perhaps we shall see later on. There is one great +joy amid all our grief. Your name has been cleared." + +"Yes, that is something--better than a verdict of acquittal, eh?" and a +softer light came into his eyes. + +"I would rather be in our place, Ralph, bitter and humiliating as it is, +than take the place of the oppressor." + +"You are thinking of Sir John Hamblyn?" he questioned. + +"They say he is being oppressed now," she answered, after a pause. + +"By whom?" + +"The money-lenders. Rumour says that he has lost heavily on the Turf and +on the Stock Exchange--whatever that may be--and that he is hard put to +it to keep his creditors at bay." + +"That may account in some measure for his hardness to others." + +"He hoped to retrieve his position, it is said, by marrying his daughter +to Lord Probus," Ruth went on, "but she refuses to keep her promise." + +"What?" he exclaimed, with a sudden gasp. + +"How much of the gossip is true, of course, nobody knows, or rather how +much of it isn't true--for it is certain she has refused to marry him; +and Lord Probus is so mad that he refused to speak to Sir John or have +anything to do with him." + +Ralph smiled broadly. + +"What has become of Miss Dorothy is not quite clear. Some people say +that Sir John has sent her to a convent school in France. Others say +that she has gone off of her own free will, and taken a situation as a +governess under an assumed name." + +"Are you sure she isn't at the Manor?" he questioned eagerly. + +"Quite sure. The servants talk very freely about it. Sir John stormed +and swore, and threatened all manner of things, but she held her own. He +shouted so loudly sometimes that they could not help hearing what he +said. Miss Dorothy was very calm, but very determined. He taunted her +with being in love with somebody else----" + +"No!" + +"She must have had a very hard time of it by what the servants say. It +is to be hoped she has peace now she has got away." + +"Sir John is a brute," Ralph said bitterly. "He has no mercy on anybody, +not even on his own flesh and blood." + +"Isn't it always true that 'with what measure ye mete it shall be +measured to you again'?" Ruth questioned, looking up into his face. + +"It may be," he answered, "and yet many people suffer injustice who have +never meted it out to others." + +For a while silence fell between them, then looking up into his face she +said-- + +"Have you any plans for the future, Ralph?" + +"A good many, Ruth, but the chances are they will come to nothing. One +thing my prison experience has allowed me, and that is time to think. If +I can work out half my dreams there will be topsy-turvydom in St. +Goram." And he smiled again. + +"Then you have not given up hope?" + +"Not quite, Ruth. But first of all I must see mother and get her out of +the workhouse." + +"You will have to earn some money and take a house first. You see, +everything has gone, Ralph." + +"Which means an absolutely fresh start, and from the bottom," he +answered. "But never mind, when you build from the bottom you are pretty +sure of your foundation." + +"Oh, it does me good to hear you talk like that," she said, the tears +coming into her eyes again. + +"I hope I'm not altogether a coward, sis," he said, with a smile. "It'll +be a hard struggle, I know; but, at any rate, I have something to live +for." + +"That's bravely said." And she leant over and kissed him. + +"Now we must stop talking, and act," he went on. "I must get William +Menire to lend me his trap, and I must drive over to see mother." + +"That will be lovely, for then I can ride with you, for I must be in by +seven o'clock." + +"What?" + +"This is an extra day off, you know." + +"Are you cook, or housemaid, or what?" + +"I am sewing maid," she answered. "The Varcoes have a big family of +children, you know, and I have really as much as I can do with the +making and mending." + +"What, Varcoes the Quakers?" + +"Yes. And they have really been exceedingly kind to me. They took me +without references, and have done their best to make me comfortable. +There are some good people in the world, Ralph." + +"It would be a sorry world if there weren't," he answered. And then +William Menire and his mother entered. + +A few minutes later a substantial dinner was served, and for the next +hour William fluttered about his guests unmindful of how his customers +fared. + +Had not Ralph been so busy with his own thoughts, and Ruth so taken up +with her brother, they would have both seen in what direction William's +inclinations lay. He would gladly have kept them both if he could, and +hailed their presence as a dispensation of Providence. Ruth looked +lovelier in William's eyes than she had ever done, and to be her friend +was the supreme ambition of his life. + +He insisted on driving them to St. Hilary, but demanded as a first +condition that Ralph should return with him to St. Goram. + +"You can stay here," he said, "until you can get work or suit yourself +with better lodgings. You can't sleep in the open air, and you may as +well stay with me as with anybody else." + +This, on the face of it, seemed a reasonable enough proposition, and +with this understanding Ralph climbed into the back of the trap, Ruth +riding on the front seat with William. + +Never did a driver feel more proud than William felt that afternoon. It +was not that he was doing a kindly and neighbourly deed; there was much +more in his jubilation than that. He had by his side, so he believed, +the fairest girl in the three parishes. William watched with no ordinary +interest and curiosity the face of everyone they met, and when he saw +some admiring pairs of eyes resting upon his companion, his own eyes +sparkled with a brighter light. + +William thought very little of Ralph, who was sitting at his back, and +who kept up a conversation with Ruth over his left shoulder. It was Ruth +who filled his thoughts and awakened in his heart a new and strange +sensation. He did not talk himself. He was content to listen, content to +catch the sweet undertone of a voice that was sweeter and softer than +St. Goram bells on a stormy night; content to feel, when the trap +lurched, the pressure of Ruth's arm against his own. + +He did not drive rapidly. Why should he? This was a red-letter day in +the grey monotony of his life, a day to be remembered when business was +bad and profits small, and his mother's temper had more rough edges in +it than usual. + +So he let his horse amble along at its own sweet will. They would return +at a much smarter pace. + +William pulled up slowly at the workhouse gates. He would have helped +Ruth down if there had been any excuse or opportunity. He was sorry the +journey had come to an end. It might be long before he looked into those +soft brown eyes again. He suppressed a sigh with difficulty when Ralph +sprang out behind and helped his sister down. How much less clumsily he +could have done it himself, and how he would have enjoyed the privilege! + +"I'll put the horse up at the Star and Garter," he said, adjusting the +seat to the lighter load, "and will be waiting round there till you're +ready." + +Then Ruth came up and stood by the shafts. + +"I shall not see you again," she said, raising grateful eyes to his. +"But I should like to thank you very much for your kindness." + +"Please don't say a word about it," he answered, blushing painfully. +"The pleasure's been on my side." And he reached down and grasped Ruth's +extended hand with a vigour that left no doubt as to his sincerity. + +He did not drive away at once. He waited till Ralph and Ruth had +disappeared within the gloomy building, then, heaving a long-drawn sigh, +he touched his horse with his whip, and drove slowly down the hill +toward the Star and Garter. + +"It's very foolish of me to think about women at all," he mused, +"especially about one woman in particular. I'm not a woman's man, and +never was, and never shall be. Besides, she's good enough for the best +in the land." + +And he plucked at the reins and started the horse into a trot. + +"If I were ten years younger and handsome," he went on, "and didn't keep +a shop, and hadn't my mother to keep, and--and----But there, what's the +use of saying 'if' this and 'if' that? I'm just William Menire, and +nobody else, and there ain't her equal in the three parishes. No, I'd +better be content to jog along quietly as I've been doing for years +past. It's foolish to dream at my time of life--foolish--foolish!" And +with another sigh he let the reins slacken. + +But, foolish or not, William continued to dream, until his dreams seemed +to him the larger part of his life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A GOOD NAME + + +In a long, barrack-like room, with uncarpeted floor and whitewashed +walls, Ralph and Ruth found their mother. She was propped up with +pillows in a narrow, comfortless bed. Her hands lay listless upon the +coarse coverlet, her eyes were fixed upon the blank wall opposite, her +lips were parted in a patient and pathetic smile. + +She did not see the wall, nor feel the texture of the bedclothes, nor +hear the sound of footsteps on the uncarpeted floor. She was back again +in the old days when husband and children were about her, and hope +gladdened their daily toil, and love glorified and made beautiful the +drudgery of life. She tried not to think about the present at all, and +in the main she succeeded. Her life was in the past and in the future. +When she was not wandering through the pleasant fields of memory, and +plucking the flowers that grew in those sheltered vales, she was soaring +aloft into those fair Elysian fields which imagination pictured and +faith made real--fields on which the blight of winter never fell, and +across which storms and tempests never swept. + +She had lost all count of days, lost consciousness almost of her present +surroundings. Every day was the same--grey and sunless. There were no +duties to be done, no meals to prepare, no butter to make, no chickens +to feed, no husband to greet when the day was done, no hungry children +to come romping in from the fields. + +There were old people who had been in the workhouse so long that they +had accommodated their life to its slow routine, and who found something +to interest them in the narrowest and greyest of all worlds. But Mary +Penlogan had come too suddenly into its sombre shadow and had left too +many pleasant things behind her. + +She did not complain. There were times when she did not even suffer. The +blow had stunned her and numbed all her sensibilities. Now and then she +awoke as from a pleasant dream, and for a moment a wave of horror and +agony would sweep over her, but the tension would quickly pass. The +wound was too deep for the smart to continue long. + +She seemed in the main to be wonderfully resigned, and yet resignation +was scarcely the proper word to use. It was rather that voiceless apathy +born of despair. For her the end of the world had come; there was +nothing left to live for. Nothing could restore the past and give her +back what once she had prized so much, and yet prized all too little. It +was just a question of endurance until the Angel of Death should set her +free. + +She conformed to all the rules of the House without a murmur, and +without even the desire to complain. She slept well, on the whole, and +tried her best to eat such fare as was considered good enough for +paupers. If she wept at all she wept in secret and in the night-time; +she had no desire to obtrude her grief upon others. She even made an +earnest effort to be cheerful now and then. But all the while her +strength ebbed slowly away. The springs of her life had run dry. + +The workhouse doctor declared at first that nothing ailed her--nothing +at all. A week later he spoke of a certain lack of vitality, and wrote +an order for a little more nourishing food. A fortnight later he +discovered a certain weakness in the action of the heart, and wrote out +a prescription to be made up in the dispensary. + +Later still he had her removed to the sick-ward and placed under the +care of a nurse. It was there Ralph and Ruth found her on the afternoon +in question. + +She looked up with a start when Ralph stopped at the foot of her bed, +then, with a glad cry, she reached out her wasted arms to him. He was by +her side in a moment, with his arms about her neck, and for several +minutes they rocked themselves to and fro in silence. + +Ruth came up on the other side and sat down on a wooden chair, and for +awhile her presence was forgotten. + +"My dear, darling old mother!" Ralph said, as soon as he had recovered +himself sufficiently to speak. "I did not think it would have come to +this." + +She made no reply, but continued to rock herself to and fro. + +He drew himself away after a while and took her thin, wrinkled hands in +his. + +"You must get better now as soon as ever you can," he said, trying to +speak cheerfully, though every word threatened to choke him. + +She shook her head slowly and smiled. + +"When we get you back to St. Goram," he went on, "you'll soon pick up +your strength again, for it is only strength you need." + +She turned her head and looked up into his face and smiled pathetically. + +"If it is God's will that I should get strong again I shall not +complain," she answered, "but I would rather go Home now I am so near." + +"Oh no, we cannot spare you yet," he replied quickly; and he gulped down +a big lump that had risen in his throat. "I'm going to work in real +earnest and build a new home. I've lots of plans for the future." + +"My poor boy," she said gently, and she tapped the back of his hand with +the tips of her wasted fingers, "even if your plans succeed, life will +be a hard road still." + +"Yes, yes, I know that, mother. But to have someone to live for and care +for will make it easier." And he bent his head and kissed her. + +"God alone can tell that, my boy," she said wistfully. "But oh, you've +been a long time coming to me." + +"I wonder if it has seemed so long to you as to me?" he questioned. + +"But why did they not release you sooner?" she asked. "Oh, it seems +months ago since they told me that Jim Brewer had confessed." + +"Can anybody tell why stupid officialism ever does anything at all?" he +questioned. "Liberty is a goddess bound, and justice is fettered and +cannot run." + +"I know nothing about that," she answered slowly, "but it seemed an easy +thing to set you free when your innocence had been proved." + +"No, mother; nothing is easy when you are caught in the blind and +blundering toils of the law." + +"But what is the law for, my boy?" + +He laughed softly and yet bitterly. + +"Chiefly, it seems," he said, "to find work for lawyers; and, secondly, +to protect the interests of those who are rich enough to pay for it." + +"Oh, my boy, the bitterness of the wrong abides with you still, but God +will make all things right by and by." + +"Some things can never be made right, mother; but let us not talk of +that now. I want you to get better fast, and think of all the good times +we shall have when we get a little home of our own once more." + +"Your father will not be there," she answered sadly; "and I want to be +with him." + +"But you should think of us also, mother," he said, with a shake in his +voice. + +"I do--I do," she answered feebly and listlessly. "I have thought of you +night and day, and have never ceased to pray for you since I came here. +But you can do without me now." + +"No, no. Don't say that!" he pleaded. + +"I should have feared to leave you once," she answered; "but not now." + +"Why not now?" he questioned. + +"Ah, Ralph, my boy"--and she smoothed the back of his hand slowly and +gently--"you will never forget your father and the good name he bore. +That name is your inheritance. It is better than money--better than +houses and lands. He was one of the good men of the world--not great, +nor successful, nor even wise, as the world counts wisdom. But no shadow +of wrong, Ralph, ever stained his life. He walked with God. You will +think of this, my son, in the days that are to come. And if ever you +should be tempted to sin, the memory of your father will be like an +anchor to you. You will say to yourself, 'He bore unstained for nearly +sixty years the white flag of a blameless life, and I dare not lower it +now into the dust.'" + +"God help me, mother!" he choked. + +"God will help you, my boy. As He stood by your father and has comforted +me, so will He be your strength and defence. You and Ruth will fight all +the better for not having the burden of my presence." + +"Mother, mother, how can you say so?" Ruth interposed, with streaming +eyes. + +"I may be permitted to watch you from the hills of that Better Country," +she went on, "I and your father. But in any case, God will watch over +you." + +This was her benediction. They went away at length, sadly and silently, +but not till they reached the outer air did either of them speak. It was +Ruth who broke the silence. + +"She will never get better, Ralph." + +"Oh, nonsense, sis. She is overcome to-day, but she will pick up again +to-morrow." + +"She has been gradually failing ever since we left Hillside, and she has +never recovered any ground she lost." + +"But the spring is coming, and once we have got her out of that dismal +and depressing place, her strength will come back." + +But Ruth shook her head. + +"I don't want to discourage you," she said, "but I have watched the +gradual loosening of her hold upon life. Her heart is in heaven, Ralph, +that is the secret of it. She is longing to be with father again." + +They walked on in silence till they reached Mr. Varcoe's house, then +Ralph spoke again. + +"We must get mother out of the workhouse, and at once, whatever +happens," he said. + +"How?" she asked. + +"I don't know yet. But think of it, if she should die in the workhouse." + +"She has lived in it," Ruth answered. + +"Yes, yes; but the disgrace of it if she should end her days there." + +"If there is any disgrace in poverty, we have suffered it to the full," +Ruth answered. "Nothing that can happen now can add to it." + +For a moment he stood silent. Then he kissed her and walked away. + +He found William Menire waiting for him at the street corner, a few +yards from the Star and Garter. + +"I haven't harnessed up yet," he said. "I thought perhaps you might like +a cup of tea or a chop before we returned. Your sister, I presume, has +gone back to her--to her place?" + +"Yes, I saw her home before I came on here." + +William sighed and waited for instructions. He was willing to be servant +to Ralph for Ruth's sake. + +"I should like a cup of tea, if you don't mind," Ralph said at length, +and he coloured painfully as he spoke. He was living on charity, and the +sting of it made all his nerves tingle. + +"There's a confectioner's round the corner where they make capital tea," +William said cheerfully. And he led the way with long strides. + +The moon was up when they started on their homeward journey, and the air +was keen and frosty. Neither of them talked much. To Ralph the day +seemed like a long and more or less incoherent dream. He had dressed +that morning in the dim light of a prison cell--it seemed like a week +ago. He felt at times as though he had dreamed all the rest. + +William was dreaming of Ruth, and so did not disturb his companion. The +horse needed no whip, he seemed the most eager of the three to get home. +The fields lay white and silent in the moonlight. The bare trees flung +ghostly shadows across the road. The stars twinkled faintly in the +far-off depths of space, now and then a dove cooed drowsily in a +neighbouring wood. + +At length the tower of St. Goram Church loomed massively over the brow +of the hill, and a little later William pulled up with a jerk at his own +shop door. + +Mrs. Menire had provided supper for them. Ralph ate sparingly, and with +many pauses. This was not home. He was a stranger in a stranger's house, +living on charity. That thought stung him constantly and spoiled his +appetite. + +He tried to sleep when he got to bed, but the angel was long in coming. +His thoughts were too full of other things. The fate of his mother +worried him most. How to get her out of the workhouse and find an asylum +for her somewhere else was a problem he could not solve. He had been +promised work at St. Ivel Mine before his arrest, and he had no doubt +that he would still be able to obtain employment there. But no wages +would be paid him till the end of the month, and even then it would all +be mortgaged for food and clothes. + +He slept late next morning, for William had given orders that he was not +to be disturbed. He came downstairs feeling a little ashamed of himself. +If this was his new start in life, it was anything but an energetic +beginning. + +William was on the look-out for him, and fetched the bacon and eggs from +the kitchen himself. + +"We've had our breakfast," he explained. "You won't mind, I hope. We +knew you'd be very tired, so we kept the house quiet. I hope you've had +a good night, and are feeling all the better. Now I must leave you. +We're busy getting out the country orders. You can help yourself, I +know." And he disappeared through the frosted glass door into the shop. + +He came back half an hour later, just as Ralph was finishing his +breakfast, with a telegram in his hand. + +"I hope there ain't no bad news," he said, handing Ralph the +brick-coloured envelope. + +Ralph tore it open in a moment, and his face grew ashen. + +He did not speak for several seconds, but continued to stare with +unblinking eyes at the pencilled words. + +"Is it bad news?" William questioned at length, unable to restrain his +curiosity and his anxiety any longer. + +Ralph raised his eyes and looked at him. + +"Mother's dead," he answered, in a whisper; and then the telegram +slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor. + +William picked it up and read it. + +"Your mother found dead in bed. Send instructions _re_ disposal of +remains." + +"They might have worded the message a little less brutally," William +said at length. + +"Officialism is nothing if not brutal," Ralph said bitterly. + +Then the two men looked at each other in silence. William had little +difficulty in guessing what was passing through Ralph's mind. + +"If I were in his place," he reflected, "what should I be thinking? +Should I like my mother to be put into a parish coffin and buried in a +pauper's grave?" + +William spoke at length. + +"You'd like your mother and father to sleep together?" he questioned. + +Ralph's lips trembled, but he did not speak. + +"The world's been terribly rough on you," William went on, "but you'll +come into your own maybe by and by." + +"I shall never get father and mother back again," Ralph answered +chokingly. + +"We oughtn't to want them back again," William said; "they're better +off." + +"I wish I was better off in the same way," Ralph answered, with a rush +of tears to his eyes. + +"She held on, you see, till you came back to her," William said, after a +long pause; "then, when she got her heart's desire, she let go." + +"Dear old mother!" + +"And now that she's asleep, you'll want her to rest with your father." + +"But I've no money." + +"I'll be your banker as long as you like. Charge you interest on the +money, if you'll feel easier in your mind. Only don't let the money +question trouble you just now." + +Ralph grasped William's hand in silence. Of all the people he had known +in St. Goram, this comparative stranger was his truest friend and +neighbour. + +So it came to pass that Mary Penlogan had such a funeral as she herself +would have chosen, and in the grave of her husband her children laid her +to rest. People came from far and near to pay their last tribute of +respect. Even Sir John Hamblyn sent his steward to represent him. He was +too conscience-stricken to come himself. + +And when the grave had been filled in, the crowd still lingered and +talked to each other of the brave and patient souls whose only legacy to +their children was the heritage of an untarnished name. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A FRESH START + + +Some people said it was a stroke of good luck, others that it was an +exhibition of native genius, others still that it was the result of +having a good education, and a few that it was just a dispensation of +Providence, and nothing else. But whether luck or genius, Providence or +education, all were agreed that Ralph Penlogan had struck a vein which, +barring accidents, would lead him on to fortune. + +For six months he had worked on the "floors" of St. Ivel Mine, and +earned fourteen shillings a week thereat; but as a friendly miner and +his wife boarded and lodged him for eight shillings a week, he did not +do badly. His savings, if not large, were regular. Most months he laid +by a pound, and felt that he had taken the first step on the road to +independence, if not to fortune. + +As the weeks sped away, and springtime grew into summer, and all the +countryside lay smiling and beautiful in the warmth of the sunshine, his +spirits rose imperceptibly; the sense of injustice that had burdened him +gradually grew lighter, the bitter memory of Bodmin Gaol faded slowly +from his mind, his grief at the loss of his parents passed unconsciously +into painless resignation, and life, for its own sake, seemed to gather +a new meaning. + +He was young and strong, and in perfect health. Consequently, youth and +strength and hope and confidence asserted themselves in spite of +everything. How could he help dreaming bright dreams of the future when +the earth lay basking in beauty in the light of the summer sun, and away +at the end of the valley a triangular glimpse of the sea carried his +thoughts into the infinite? + +So strong he felt, so full of life and vitality, that nothing seemed +impossible to him. He was not impatient. He was so young that he could +afford to bide his time. He would lay the foundation slowly and with +care. He had to creep before he could walk, and walk before he could +run. + +Now and then, it is true, he had his bitter and angry moments, when the +memory of the past swept over him like an icy flood, and when a sense of +intolerable injustice seemed to wrap the world in darkness and shut out +all hope of the future. + +One such moment he had when he contracted with William Jenkins to mow +down a field of hay on Hillside Farm. He could do this only by working +overtime, which usually meant working sixteen hours a day. But he was +anxious to earn all he could, so that at the earliest possible date he +might get a little home together for himself and Ruth. + +He had not seen Hillside for many a month until the day he went to +interview William Jenkins. He knew it would cost him a pang, but he +could not afford to wait on sentiment or emotion. And yet he hardly +realised how deeply the place was enshrined in his heart until he stood +knocking at the door of the house that was once his home. + +He was glad that nobody heard his first knock. He thought he had got +beyond the reach of emotion, but it was not so. Suddenly, as a wave +rises and breaks upon the shore, a flood of memory swept over him. He +was back again in the dear dead past, with all the hopes of boyhood +dancing before his eyes. He saw his father coming up the home-close with +a smile upon his face, his mother in the garden gathering flowers with +which to decorate the table. He could almost fancy he heard Ruth singing +in the parlour as she bent over her sewing. + +Then the wave retreated, leaving him cold and numbed and breathless. It +was his home no longer. He was standing, a stranger, at the door that +once he opened by right. His eyes cleared at length, and he looked out +across the fields that he had helped to reclaim from the waste. How +familiar the landscape was! He knew every mound and curve, every bush +and tree. Could it be possible that in one short year, and less, so much +had happened? + +He pulled himself together after a few moments, and knocked at the door +again. William Jenkins started and looked confused when he saw Ralph +standing before him, for he had never been able to shake off an uneasy +feeling that he had not done a kind and neighbourly thing when he took +Hillside Farm over David Penlogan's head, even though Sir John's agent +had pressed him to do so. + +Ralph plunged into the object of his visit after a kindly greeting. + +"I hear you are letting out your hay crop to be cut," he said, "and I +came across to see if I could get the job." + +"I did not know you were out of work," Jenkins said uneasily. + +"I'm not," Ralph answered. "But I want to put in a little overtime these +long days. Besides, you know I'm used to farm work." + +"But if you work only overtime it will take you a long time to get down +the crop." + +"Oh, not so long. It's light till nearly ten o'clock. Besides, we're in +for a spell of fine weather, and a day or two longer won't make any +difference." + +"The usual price per acre, I suppose?" the farmer questioned, after a +pause. + +"Well, I presume nobody would be inclined to take less," Ralph said, +with a laugh. + +The farmer dived his hands into his pockets, contemplated the evening +sky for several minutes, took two or three long strides down the garden +path and back again, cleared his throat once or twice, and then he +said-- + +"Will waant yer money, 'spose, when the job's done?" + +"Unless you prefer to pay in advance." + +The farmer grinned, and dug a hole into the ground with his heel. + +"There ain't too much money to be made out of this place, I'm thinkin'," +he said at length. + +"Not at the price you suggest," Ralph said, with a twinkle in his eye. + +The farmer grinned again. + +"I didn't main it that way," he said, digging another hole in the +gravel. "I was thinkin' of myself. The farm ain't as good as I took it +to be." + +"But it will mend every year." + +"Ef it don't I shall wish I never see'd it. The crops are lookin' only +very middlin', I can assure 'ee." + +"Sorry to hear that. But what about the hay-field?" + +"I 'spose you've got a scythe?" + +"I can get one, in any case." + +"Well, 'spose we say done!" And Jenkins contemplated the evening sky +again with considerable interest. + +Afterwards Ralph wished that he had found work for his spare time almost +anywhere rather than on Hillside Farm. There was not a single thing that +did not remind him in some way of the past. He would raise his head +unconsciously, expecting to see his father working by his side. The +flutter of Mrs. Jenkins' print dress in the garden would cause the word +"mother" to leap to his lips unbidden, and when the daylight faded, and +the moon began to peep over the hill, he would turn his face towards the +house, fancying that Ruth was calling him to supper. + +He finished the task at length, and dropped his hard-earned silver into +his pocket. + +"It'll be a dear crop of hay for me, I'm thinkin'," Jenkins said +lugubriously. + +"It isn't so heavy as it might be," Ralph answered. "A damp spring suits +Hillside best." + +"I sometimes wish your father had it instead of me." And Jenkins twisted +his shoulders uncomfortably. + +"Father is better off," Ralph answered slowly, looking across the valley +to a distant line of hills. + +"Ay, it's to be hoped so, for there ain't much better off here, I'm +thinkin'. It's mostly worse off. And as we get owlder we feel it more 'n +more." + +"So you regret taking the farm already?" Ralph questioned almost +unconsciously. + +"I ded'n say so. We've got to make a livin' somehow, leastways we've got +to try." And he turned suddenly round and walked into the house. + +Ralph walked across the fields to interview Peter Ladock, whose farm +adjoined. He struck the boundary hedge at a point where a gnarled and +twisted oak made a feature in the landscape. Half-way over the hedge he +paused abruptly. This was the point his father had asked him to keep in +his memory, and yet until this moment he had never once thought of it. + +Not that it mattered: the county was intersected with tin lodes, iron +lodes, copper lodes, and lead lodes, and most of them would not pay for +the working. And very likely this lode, if it existed--for, after all, +his father had had very little opportunity of demonstrating its +existence--would turn out to be no better than the rest. + +For a moment he paused to draw an imaginary line to the chimney-top, as +his father had instructed him, then he sprang off the hedge into +Ladock's field and made his way towards his house. Peter, who knew his +man, agreed to pay Ralph by the hour, and he could work as many hours as +he liked. + +To one less strong and healthy than Ralph it would have been killing +work; but he did not seem to take any harm. Once a week came Sunday, and +during that day he seemed to regain all that he had lost. Fortunately, +too, during harvest-time the farmers provided extra food. There was +"crowst" between meals, and supper when they worked extra late. + +No sooner was the hay crop out of the way than the oats and barley began +to whiten in the sunshine, and then the wheat began to bend its head +before the sickle. + +Ralph quadrupled his savings during the months of June, July, and +August, and before September was out he had taken a cottage and begun to +furnish it. + +Bice had a few things left that once belonged to his mother and father. +Ralph pounced upon them greedily, and bought them cheaply from the +assistant when Bice was out. + +On the first Saturday afternoon he had at liberty he went to St. Hilary +to interview his sister. Ruth was on the look-out for him. She had got +the afternoon off, and was eager to look into his eyes again. It was +nearly three months since she had seen him. + +She met him with a glad smile and eyes that were brimful of happy tears. + +"How well you look," she said, looking up into his strong, sunburnt +face. "I was afraid you were working yourself to death." + +"No fear of that," he said, with a laugh; "it is not work that kills, +you know, but worry." + +"And you are not worrying?" she asked. + +"Not now," he answered. "I think I'm fairly started, and, with hard work +and economy, there is no reason why we should not jog along comfortably +together." + +"And you are still of the same mind about my keeping house for you?" + +"Why, what a question! As if I would stay a day longer in 'diggings' +than I could help." + +"Are you not comfortable?" she questioned, glancing anxiously up into +his face. + +"Yes, when at work or asleep." + +"There is still another question," she said at length, with a smile. + +"And that?" + +"You may want to get married some time, and then I shall be in the way." + +He laughed boisterously for a moment, and then his face grew grave. + +"I shall never marry," he said at length. "At least, that is my present +conviction." + +She regarded him narrowly for a moment, and wondered. There came a look +into his eyes which she could not understand--a far-away, pathetic look, +such as is seen in the eyes of those who have loved and lost. + +Ruth was curious. Being a woman, she could not help it. Who was there in +St. Goram likely to touch her brother's fancy? Young men who have never +been in love often talk freely about getting married. + +She changed the subject a few minutes later, and carefully watched the +effect of her words. + +"I suppose nothing has been heard in St. Goram of Miss Dorothy?" + +"No," he said hurriedly. "Have you heard anything?" And he looked at her +with eager eyes, while the colour deepened on his cheeks. + +"I am not in the way of hearing St. Goram news," she said, with a smile. + +He drew in his breath sharply, and turned away his eyes, and for several +minutes neither of them spoke again. + +Ruth began unconsciously to put two and two together. She had heard of +such things--read of them in books. Fate was often very cruel to the +most deserving. Unlikelier things had happened. Dorothy was exceedingly +pretty, and since her accident she had revealed traits of character that +scarcely anyone suspected before. Ralph had been thrown into very close +contact at the most impressionable part of his life. He had succoured +her when she was hurt, carried her in his arms all the way from +Treliskey Plantation to the cross roads. Nor was that all. She had +discovered him after his accident, and when the doctor arrived on the +scene, he was lying with his head on her lap. + +If he had learned to love her, it might not be strange, but it would be +an infinite pity, all the same. The cruel irony of it would be too sad +for words. Of course, he would get over it in time. The contempt he felt +for Sir John, the difference in their social position, and last, but not +least, the fact that she had been effectually banished from Hamblyn +Manor, and that there was no likelihood of their meeting again, would +all help him to put her out of his heart and out of his life. +Nevertheless, if her surmise was correct, that Dorothy Hamblyn had +stolen his heart, she could quite understand him saying that he did not +intend to marry. + +"Poor Ralph!" she said to herself, with a sigh. And then she began to +talk about the things that would be needed in their new home. + +Ruth had saved almost the whole of her nine months' wages, which, added +to what Ralph had saved, made quite a respectable sum. To lay it out to +the best advantage might not be easy. She wanted so many things that he +saw no necessity for, while he wanted things that she pronounced +impossible. + +On the whole, however, they had a very happy time in spending their +savings and getting the little cottage in order. Everything, of course, +was of the cheapest and simplest. They attended most of the auction +sales within a radius of half a dozen miles, and some very useful things +they got for almost nothing. + +Both of them were in the best of spirits. Ruth looked forward with great +eagerness to the time of her release from service; not that she was +overworked, while nobody could be kinder to her than her mistress. +Nevertheless, a sense of servitude pressed upon her constantly. She had +lived all her life before in such an atmosphere of freedom, and had +pictured for herself a future so absolutely different, that it was not +easy to accommodate herself to the straitened ways of service. + +Ralph was weary of "diggings," and was literally pining for a home of +his own. He had endured for six months, because he had been lodged and +boarded cheap. He had shown no impatience while nothing better was in +sight, but when the cottage was actually taken, and some items of +furniture had been moved into it, he began to count the days till he +should take full possession. + +He went to bed, to dream of soft pillows and clean sheets, and dainty +meals daintily served; of a bright hearth, and an easy-chair in which he +might rest comfortably when the long evenings came; of a sweet face that +should sit opposite to him; and, above all, of quietness from the noisy +strife of quarrelsome and unruly children. + +Ruth returned from St. Hilary on the first of October--a rich, mellow +day, when all the earth seemed to float in a golden haze. William Menire +discovered that he had business in St. Hilary that day, and that it +would be quite convenient for him to bring Ruth and her boxes in his +trap. He put the matter so delicately that Ruth could not very well +refuse. + +It was a happy day for William when he drove through St. Goram with Ruth +sitting by his side, and a happy day for Ruth when she alighted at the +garden gate of their little cottage, and caught the light of a new hope +in her brother's eyes. + +It was a fresh start for them both, but to what it might lead they did +not know--nor even desire to know. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE ROAD TO FORTUNE + + +No sooner had Ralph got settled in his new home than his brain began to +work with renewed energy and vigour. He began making experiments again +in all sorts of things. He built a rough shed at the back of the +cottage, and turned it into a laboratory. He spent all his spare time in +trying to reduce some of his theories to practice. + +Moreover, he got impatient of the slow monotony of day labour. He did +not grumble at the wages. Possibly he was paid as much as he deserved, +but he did chafe at the horse-in-the-mill kind of existence. To do the +same kind of thing day after day, and feel that an elephant or even an +ass might be trained to do it just as well, was from his point of view +humiliating. He wanted scope for the play of other faculties. He was not +a mule, with so much physical strength that might be paid for at so much +per hour; he was a man, with brains and intelligence and foresight. So +he began to look round him for some other kind of work, and finally he +took a small contract which kept him and three men he employed busy for +two months, and left him at the end twenty-eight shillings and ninepence +poorer than if he had stuck to his day labour. + +He was nothing daunted, however. Indeed, he was a good deal encouraged. +He was afraid at one time that he would come out of his contract in +debt. He worked considerably more hours than when he was a day labourer, +and he was inclined to think that he worked considerably harder, and +there was less money at the end; but he was far happier because he was +infinitely more interested. + +Ruth, who had been educated in a school of the strictest economy, +managed to make both ends meet, and with that she was quite content. She +had great faith in her brother. She liked to see him busy with his +experiments. It kept him out of mischief, if nothing else. But that was +not all. She believed in his ultimate success. In what direction she did +not know, but he was not commonplace and humdrum. He was not willing to +jog along in the same ruts from year's end to year's end without knowing +the reason why. She rejoiced in his impatience and discontent, for she +recognised that there was something worthy and even heroic behind. +Discontent under certain circumstances and conditions might be +noble--almost divine. She wished sometimes that she had more of his +spirit. + +She never uttered a word of complaint if he gave her less money to keep +house upon, never hinted that his experiments were too expensive +luxuries for their means. Something would grow out of his enterprise and +enthusiasm by and by. He had initiative and vision and judgment, and +such qualities she felt sure were bound to tell in the end. + +When Ralph had finished his first contract he took a second, and did +better by it. He learned by experience, as all wise men do, and gathered +confidence in himself as the result. + +With the advent of spring rumours got into circulation that a large and +wealthy company had been formed for the purpose of developing +Perranpool. + +A few years previously it had been only a fishing village, distinguished +mainly for the quality of its pilchards. But some London journalist, who +during a holiday time spent a few days there, took it into his head to +turn an honest penny by writing a friendly article about it. It is to be +presumed he meant all he said, for he said a great deal that many people +wondered at. But, in any case, the article was well written and was +widely quoted from. + +The result was that the following year nearly every fisherman's wife had +to turn lodging-house keeper, and not being spoiled by contact with the +ordinary tripper, these worthy men and women made their visitors +comfortable with but small profit to themselves. + +The next year a still larger number of people came, for they had heard +that Perranpool was not only secluded and salubrious, but also +remarkably cheap. + +That was the beginning of Perranpool's fame. Every year more and more +people came to enjoy its sunshine and build sand-castles on its beach. +Houses sprang up like mushrooms, most of them badly built, and all of +them entirely hideous. A coach service was established between it and +the nearest railway station, a company was formed for the purpose of +supplying gas at a maximum charge for a minimum candle-power, while +another company brought water from a distance, so rich in microbes that +the marvel was that anyone drank it and lived. + +Since then things have further improved. A branch railway has been +constructed, and two or three large hotels have been built, a Local +Board has been formed, and the rates have been quadrupled. A "Town Band" +plays during the season an accompaniment to the song the wild waves +sing, and the picturesque sea-front has given place to an asphalted +promenade. At the time of which we write, however, the promenade existed +only in imagination, and some of the older houses were threatened by the +persistently encroaching sea. + +So a company was formed for the purpose of building a breakwater and a +pier, and for the purpose of developing a large tract of land it had +acquired along the sea-front, and tenders were invited for the carrying +out of certain specified work. + +None of the tenders, however, were accepted. There was no stone in the +neighbourhood fit for the purpose, and to bring granite from the distant +quarries meant an expense that was not to be thought of. The directors +of the company began to feel sick. The debenture holders were eating up +the capital, and the ordinary shareholders were clamouring for a +dividend, while the sea threatened to eat up the land. + +Meanwhile Ralph Penlogan had been looking at a huge heap of gravel and +mica and blue clay which had been accumulating during three generations +on the side of a hill some two or three miles inland. Every day and all +the year round men pushed out small trucks and tipped their contents +over the brow of this huge barrow. Every year the great heap extended +its base, engulfing hedges and meadows and even plantations. There was +no value in this waste whatever. In fact, it involved the company in a +loss, for they had to pay for the land it continued to engulf. Anyone +who liked to cart away a few loads for the purpose of gravelling his +garden-path was at liberty to do so. The company would have been +grateful if the whole mass of it could have been carted into the sea. + +Ralph got a wheelbarrowful of the stuff and experimented with it. Then +he wrote to the chairman of the company and asked permission to use some +of the waste heap for building purposes--a permission which was at once +granted. In fact, the chairman intimated that the more he could use the +more he--the chairman--and his co-directors would be pleased. + +Ralph's next step was to interview a local contractor who was very +anxious to build the new sea-wall and pier. The result of that interview +was that the contractor sent in a fresh tender, not to build the wall of +granite, but with a newly discovered concrete, which could be +manufactured at a very small cost, and which would serve the purposes of +the company even better than granite itself. + +Ralph registered his invention or discovery, got his concession from the +Brick, Tile, and Clay Company into the best legal form possible, and +then commenced operations. + +Telfer, the contractor, who was delighted with the quality of the +concrete, financed Ralph at the start, and helped him in every way in +his power. + +The Perranpool Pier and Land Company, after testing the new material in +every way known to them, accepted Telfer's tender, and the great work +was commenced forthwith. + +In a couple of months Ralph had as many men at work as he had room for. +Telfer had laid a light tram-line down the valley, and as fast as the +blocks were manufactured they were run down to Perranpool. + +Ralph was in high spirits. Having the material for nothing, and water in +abundance, he was able to manufacture his concrete even cheaper than he +had calculated. In fact, his profits were so good that he increased the +wages of his hands all round, and got more work out of them in +consequence. + +Robert Telfer, however, who was much more of a man of the world than +Ralph, was by no means satisfied with the condition of affairs. He +foresaw contingencies that never occurred to the younger man. + +"Look here," he said to Ralph one day, "you ought to turn out much more +stuff than you are doing." + +"Impossible," Ralph answered. "I have so many men at work that they are +getting in each other's way as it is." + +"But why not double your shifts? Let one lot get in at six and break off +at two, and the second come in at two and leave off at ten." + +"I never thought of that," Ralph answered. + +"Well, you take my advice. There's an old proverb, you know, about +making hay while the sun shines." + +"But the sun will shine as long as you take my concrete." + +"Don't be too sure of that." + +"How?" Ralph said, glancing up with questioning eyes. + +"The raw material may give out." + +Ralph laughed. + +"Why, there's stuff enough to last a hundred years," he said. + +"That may be; but don't be too sure that you will be allowed to use it." + +"Do you mean to suggest that the company will attempt to go behind their +agreement?" + +"More unlikely things have happened." + +"Then you have heard something?" + +"Nothing very definite. But some of the shareholders are angry at seeing +you make money." + +"But the stuff has been lying waste for generations, and accumulating +year by year. They rather gain than lose by letting me use it up." + +"But some of them are asking why they cannot use it themselves." + +"Well, let them if they know how." + +"You have patented your discovery?" + +"I have tried, but our patent laws are an outrage." + +"Exactly. And, after all, there's not much mystery in concrete." + +"Well?" he said, in a tone of inquiry. + +"Well, before you are aware you may have competition, or, as I said just +now, the raw material may run out." + +"I cannot conceive that honourable men will try to go behind their +promise." + +"As individuals, no; but you are dealing with a company." + +"Well, what is the difference?" + +Mr. Telfer laughed. + +"There ought to be no difference, I grant. Nevertheless, you will find +out as you grow older that companies and corporations and committees +will do what as single individuals they would never dream of doing. When +men are associated with a hundred others, the sense of individual +responsibility disappears. Companies or corporations have neither souls +nor consciences. You, as an individual, would not settle a dispute with +a revolver, or at the point of a sword. Possibly you think duelling a +crime, yet as a member of a community or nation you would possibly +applaud an appeal to arms in any quarrel affecting our material +interests." + +"Possibly I should," Ralph answered, looking thoughtful. + +"Then you see what I am driving at?" + +"And you advise making the most of my opportunity?" + +"I do most certainly. I don't deny I may be selfish in this. I want as +much of the stuff as I can buy at the present price. Nobody else can +make it as cheaply as you are doing." + +"Why not?" + +"First, because you are on good terms with your men, and are getting the +most out of them. Second, because you have no expenses to pay--that is, +you have no salaries to pay or directors to fee." + +"I'll think about it," Ralph said, and the interview came to an end. + +A week later he doubled his shift. He had no difficulty in getting men, +for the pay was good and the work was in the open air, and in no sense +of the word dangerous. + +He was on the spot nearly all the time himself. He left nothing to +chance. He delegated none of his own work to other people. Ruth saw very +little of him; he was off over the hill early in the morning, and he did +not return home till late at night. + +She understood he was prospering, but his prosperity made no difference +to their style of living. He was too fully occupied to think of anything +but his work, and too much of a man to be spoiled by a few months of +success. + +He had taken Mr. Telfer's advice, and was doubling his output, but he +was still of opinion that no attempt would be made to get behind the +concession that had been granted to him by the Brick, Tile, and Clay +Company. + +As the days passed away and grew into weeks and months, and he heard +nothing from the chairman or any of the directors, or of any +investigation, he was more than ever convinced that Mr. Telfer's fears +were entirely without foundation. + +It might be quite true that individual shareholders rather resented his +making money out of stuff that they threw away as waste. But, on the +whole, as far as he was able to judge, people appeared rather to rejoice +that the tide had turned in his favour. He had thought rather hard +things of some of his neighbours at one time, and it was still true that +they were more friendly disposed towards him in his prosperity than in +his adversity, but, on the whole, they were genuine, good-hearted +people, and none of them appeared to envy him his little bit of success. + +Sometimes William Menire took himself to task for not rejoicing as +heartily in Ralph's success as he felt he ought to do. But William had a +feeling that the more the Penlogans prospered the farther they would get +away from him. He pictured to himself, almost with a shudder, a time +when they would go to live in a big house and keep servants, and perhaps +drive their own carriage; while he, as a village shopkeeper, might be +allowed to call round at their back door for orders. + +If they remained poor, he might still help them in trifling things and +in unnoticeable ways; might continue on visiting terms with them; might +have the pleasure now and then of looking into Ruth's honest eyes; might +even reckon himself among their friends. + +But if they prospered, the whole world might be changed for him. Not +that he ever cherished any foolish hopes, or indulged in impossible +dreams. Had he been ten years younger, without a mother to keep, dreams +of love and matrimony might have floated before his vision. But +now----Well, such dreams were not for him. + +This is what he told himself constantly, and yet the dreams came back in +spite of everything. + +So the weeks and months slipped rapidly and imperceptibly away, and +everybody said that Ralph Penlogan was a lucky fellow, and that he had +struck a vein that was bound to lead on to fortune. + +But, meanwhile, directors had been arguing, and almost fighting, and +lawyers had been putting their heads together, and counsel's opinion had +been taken, and the power of the purse had been measured and discussed, +and even religious people had debated the question as to how far a +promise should be allowed to stand in the way of their material +interests, and whether even a legal obligation might not be evaded if +there was a chance of doing it. + +Unfortunately for Ralph, time had allayed all his suspicions, so that +when the blow fell, it found him unprepared, in spite of his +consultation with Mr. Telfer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +LAW AND LIFE + + +"Promises, like piecrust, are made to be broken," so runs the proverb, +and the average man repeats it without a touch of cynicism in his tones. +If you can keep your promise without loss or inconvenience to yourself, +then do it by all means; but if you cannot, invent some excuse and get +out of it. Most men place their material interests before everything +else. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness," is a +saying that few people regard to-day. The children of this age think +they have found a more excellent way. "Seek ye first the kingdom of this +world and the policy thereof," is the popular philosophy. + +Lawyers and statesmen are busily engaged in taking the "nots" out of the +Ten Commandments and putting them into the Sermon on the Mount, and this +not only in their own interests, but chiefly in the interests of rich +clients and millionaire trusts. "The race is not to the swift, nor the +battle to the strong," says the Bible. The modern method of +interpretation is to take the "not" out. It makes sense out of nonsense, +say the children of this world; for anyone with half an eye can see that +the "not" must have crept in by mistake, for the race is to the swift, +and the strong always win the battle. + +"The meek shall inherit the earth," said the Teacher of Nazareth; but +the modern interpreter, with the map of the world spread out before him, +shakes his head. There is evidently something wrong somewhere. Possibly +there is exactly the right number of "nots" in the Bible, but they have +been wrongly distributed. + +"The meek shall inherit the earth"? Look at England. Look at South +Africa. Look at the United States. The meek shall inherit the earth? +Take a "not" out of the Ten Commandments, where there are several too +many, and put it into the gap, then you have a statement that is in +harmony with the general experience of the world. + +When Ralph received a polite note from the chairman of the Brick, Tile, +and Clay Company, that from that date his directors would no longer hold +themselves bound by the terms of the concession they had made, he felt +that he might as well retire first as last from the scene; and, but for +Mr. Telfer, he would have done so. + +Mr. Telfer's contention was that he had a good point in law, and that it +would be cowardly "to fling up the sponge" without a legal decision. + +Ralph smiled and shook his head. + +"I have no respect for what you call the law," he said, a little +bitterly. "I have tasted its quality, and want no more of it." + +"But what is the law for, except to preserve our rights?" Mr. Telfer +demanded. + +"Whose rights?" Ralph questioned. + +"Why, your rights and mine, and everybody's." + +Ralph shook his head again. + +"I fear I have no rights," he said. + +"No rights?" Mr. Telfer demanded hotly. + +"Put it to yourself," Ralph said quietly. "What rights has a poor man; +or, if he thinks he has, what chance has he of defending them if they +are threatened by the rich and powerful?" + +"But is not justice the heritage of the poor?" Mr. Telfer asked. + +"In theory it is so, no doubt; but not in practice. To get justice in +these days, you must spend a fortune in lawyers' fees--and probably you +won't get it then. But the poor have no fortune to spend." + +"I'll admit that going to law is a very expensive business; but what is +one to do?" + +"Grin and abide." + +"Oh, but that is cowardly!" + +"It may be so. And yet, I do not see much heroism in running your head +against a stone wall." + +"But is it manly to sit down quietly and be robbed?" + +"That all depends on who the robbers are. If there are ten to one, I +should say it would be the wisest policy to submit." + +"I admit that the company is a powerful one. But it is a question with +me whether they have any right to the stuff at all. Their sett extends +from the line of Cowley's farm westward; but their tip has come a +quarter of a mile eastward. For years past they have had to pay for the +right of tipping their waste. In point of law, it isn't their stuff at +all. It isn't even on their land--the land belongs to Daniel Rickard." + +"That may be quite true," Ralph answered; "but I can't think that will +help us very much." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I heard this morning they were negotiating with Daniel for the +purchase of his little freehold." + +Mr. Telfer looked grave. + +"In any case," he said, "I would get counsel's opinion. Why not run up +to London and consult Sir John Liskeard? He is our member, you know, and +in your case his charge would not be excessive. You can afford to spend +something to know where you stand. I believe in dying game." And with a +wave of his hand, Mr. Telfer marched away. + +Two days later Ralph got a second letter from the chairman of the Brick, +Tile, and Clay Company which was much less conciliatory in tone. In +fact, it intimated, in language too plain to be misunderstood, that the +company held him guilty of trespass, and that by continuing his work +after the previous intimation he was rendering himself liable to an +action at law. + +Ralph toiled over the fields towards his home in a brown study. That the +letter was only bluff he knew, but it seemed clear enough that if he +resisted, the company was determined to fight the case in a court of +law. + +What to do for the best he could not decide. To fight the case would +probably ruin him, for even if he won, he would have to spend all his +savings in law expenses. To throw up the sponge at the outset would +certainly look cowardly. The only other alternative would be to try to +make terms with the company, to acknowledge their right, and to offer to +pay for every ton of stuff he used. + +When he got home he found Mary Telfer keeping his sister company. Mary +had been a good deal at the cottage lately. Ruth liked her to come; they +had a great deal in common, and appeared to be exceedingly fond of each +other. Mary was a bright, pleasant-faced girl of about Ralph's age. She +was not clever--she made no pretension in that direction; but she was +cheerful and good-tempered and domesticated. Moreover, as the only child +of Robert Telfer, the contractor, she was regarded as an heiress in a +small way. + +Ruth sometimes wondered whether, in the economy of nature, Mary might +not be her brother's best friend. Ralph would want a wife some day. She +did not believe in men remaining bachelors. They were much more happy, +much more useful, and certainly much less selfish when they had a wife +and family to maintain. + +Nor was that all; she had strong reasons for believing that Ralph had +been smitten with a hopeless passion for Dorothy Hamblyn. She did not +blame him in the least. Dorothy was so pretty and so winsome that it was +perhaps inevitable under the circumstances. But the pity of it and the +tragedy of it were none the less on that account. Hence, anything that +would help him in his struggle to forget was to be welcomed. For that +Ralph was honestly trying to put Dorothy Hamblyn out of his memory and +out of his heart, she fully believed. + +For months now he had never mentioned the squire or his "little maid." +Now and then Ruth would repeat the gossip that was floating about St. +Goram, but if he took any interest in it, he made no sign. + +Dorothy had never once come back since she was sent away. Whether she +was still at school, or had become a nun, or was living with friends, no +one appeared to know. Sir John kept his own counsel, and politely +snubbed all inquisitive persons. + +That Sir John was in a tight corner was universally believed. He had +reduced his household to about one-third its previous dimensions, had +dismissed half his gardeners and gamekeepers, had sold his hunters, and +in several other ways was practising the strictest economy. All this +implied that financially he was hard up. + +He got no sympathy, however, except from a few people of his own class. +He had been such a hard landlord, so ready to take every mean advantage, +so quick in raising rents, so slow in reducing them, that when he began +to have meted out to him what he had so long meted out to others, there +was rejoicing rather than sympathy. + +Ralph naturally could not help hearing the talk of the neighbourhood, +but he made no comment. Whether he was glad or sorry no one knew. As a +matter of fact, he hardly knew himself. For Sir John he had no sympathy. +He could see him starve without a pang. But there was another who loved +him, who would share his sufferings and be humbled in his humiliation, +and for her he was sorry. So he refused to discuss the squire's affairs, +either with Ruth or anyone else. He was fighting a hard battle--how hard +no one knew but himself. He did his best to avoid everything that would +remind him of Dorothy, did his best in every way to forget her. +Sometimes he found himself longing with an inexpressible desire for a +sight of her face, and yet on the whole he was exceedingly grateful that +she did not return to St. Goram. Time and distance had done something. +She was not so constantly in his thoughts as she used to be. He was not +always on the look-out for her, and he never started now, fancying it +was her face he saw in the distance; and yet he was by no means +confident that he would ever gain the victory. + +If he never saw her in his waking moments she came to him constantly in +his dreams. And, curiously enough, in his dreams there was never any +barrier to their happiness. In dreamland social distinctions did not +exist, and hard and tyrannical fathers were unknown. In dreamland happy +lovers went their own way unhindered and undisturbed. In dreamland it +was always springtime, and sickness and old age were never heard of. So +if memory were subdued in the daytime, night restored the balance. +Dorothy lived in his heart in spite of every effort to put her away. + +The sight of Mary Telfer's pleasant and smiling face on the evening in +question was a pleasant relief after the worries and annoyances of the +day. Mary was brimful of vivacity and good-humour, and Ralph quickly +caught the contagion of her cheerful temper. + +She knew all the gossip of the neighbourhood, and retailed it with great +verve and humour. Ralph laughed at some of the incidents she narrated +until the tears ran down his face. + +Then suddenly her mood changed, and she wanted to know if Ralph was +going to fight the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company. + +"What would you do if you were in my place?" Ralph questioned, with a +touch of banter in his voice. + +"Fight to the last gasp," she answered. + +"And what after that?" + +"Oh, that is a question I should never ask myself." + +"Then you don't believe in looking far ahead?" + +"What's the use? If you look far enough you'll see a tombstone, and +that's not cheerful." + +"Then you'd fight without considering how the battle might end?" + +"Why not? If you are fighting for principle and right, you have to risk +the cost and the consequences." + +"But to go to war without counting the cost is not usually considered +good statesmanship." + +"Oh, isn't it? Well, you see, I'm not a statesman--I'm only a woman. But +if I were a man I wouldn't let a set of bullies triumph over me." + +"But how could you help it if they were stronger than you?" + +"At any rate, I'd let them prove they were stronger before I gave in." + +"Then you don't believe that discretion is the better part of valour?" + +"No, I don't. Not only isn't it the better part of valour, it isn't any +part of valour. Besides, we are commanded to resist the devil." + +"Then you think the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company is the devil?" + +"I think it is doing the devil's work, and such meanness and wickedness +ought to be exposed and resisted. What's the world coming to if +gentlemen go back on their own solemn promises?" + +"It's very sad, no doubt," Ralph said, with a smile. "But, you see, they +are a hundred to one, and, however much right I may have on my side, in +the long-run I shall have to go under." + +"Then you have no faith in justice?" + +"Not in the justice of the strong." + +"But if you have the law on your side you are bound to win." + +He laughed good-humouredly. + +"Did you ever know any law," he said, "that was not in the interests of +the rich and powerful?" + +"I never gave the matter a thought," she answered. + +"If you had to spend a month in prison with nothing particular to do," +he laughed, "you would give more thought to the matter than it is +worth." + +She laughed heartily at that, and then the subject dropped. + +A little later in the evening, when they were seated at the +supper-table, Ruth remarked-- + +"Mary Telfer is like a ray of sunshine in the house." + +"Is she always bright?" Ralph questioned indifferently. + +"Always. I have never seen her out of temper or depressed yet." + +"Very likely she has nothing to try her," he suggested. + +"It's not only that, it's her nature to be cheerful and optimistic. +He'll be a fortunate man who marries her." + +"Is she going to be married soon?" + +"Not that I'm aware of," Ruth answered, looking up with a start. "I +don't think she's even engaged." + +"Oh, I beg pardon. I thought you meant----" + +"I was only speaking generally," Ruth interrupted. "Mary Telfer, in my +judgment, is a girl in a thousand--bright, cheerful, domesticated, +and--and----" + +"Gilt-edged?" Ralph suggested. + +"Well, she will not be penniless." + +That night as Ralph lay awake he recalled his conversation with Ruth, +and almost heard in fancy the bright, rippling laughter of Mary Telfer; +and for the first time a thought flashed across his mind which grew +bigger and bigger as the days and weeks passed away. + +Would it be possible to put Dorothy Hamblyn out of his heart by trying +to put another in her place? Would the beauty of her face fade from his +memory if he constantly looked upon another face? Would he forget her if +he trained himself to think continually of someone else? + +These were questions that he could not answer right off, but there might +be no harm in making the experiment--at least, there might be no harm to +himself, but what about Mary? + +So he found himself faced by a number of questions at the same time, and +for none of them could he find a satisfactory answer. + +Then came an event in his life which he anticipated with a curious +thrill of excitement, and that was a journey to London. He almost shrank +from the enterprise at first. He had heard and read so much about +London--about its bigness, its crowds, its bewildering miles of streets, +its awful loneliness, its temptations and dangers, its squalor and +luxury, its penury and extravagance--that he was half afraid he might be +sucked up as by a mighty tide, and lost. + +There seemed, however, no other course open to him. He had tried to come +to terms with the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company, had offered to pay them +a royalty on all the stuff he manufactured, to purchase from them all +the raw material he used. But every offer, every suggestion of a +compromise, was met with a stern and emphatic negative. + +So he decided to take Mr. Telfer's advice, and consult Sir John +Liskeard. In order to do this he would have to make a journey to London. +How big with fate that journey was he little guessed at the time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +IN LONDON TOWN + + +Ralph remained in London considerably longer than he had intended. Sir +John Liskeard was a very busy man, and the questions raised by Ralph +required time to consider. The equity of the case was simple and +straightforward enough; the law was quite another matter. Moreover, as +Sir John had been asked to give not merely a legal opinion, but some +friendly advice, the relative strength of the litigants had to be taken +into account. + +Sir John was anxious to do his best for his young client. Ralph appeared +to be a coming man in the division he represented in Parliament, and as +Sir John's majority on the last election was only a narrow one, he was +naturally anxious to do all he could to strengthen his position in the +constituency. Hence he received Ralph very graciously, got him a seat +under the gallery during an important debate in the House of Commons, +took him to tea on the Terrace, pointed out to him most of the political +celebrities who happened to be in attendance at the House, and +introduced him to a few whom Ralph was particularly anxious to meet. + +Fresh from the country and from the humdrum of village life, with palate +unjaded and all his enthusiasms at the full, this was a peculiarly +delightful experience. It was pleasant to meet men in the flesh whom he +had read about in books and newspapers, pleasant to breathe--if only for +an hour--a new atmosphere, charged with a subtle energy he could not +define. + +Of course, there were painful disillusionments. Some noted people--in +appearance, at any rate--fell far short of his expectations. Great men +rose in the House to speak, and stuttered and spluttered the weakest and +emptiest platitudes. Honourables and right honourables and noble lords +appeared, in many instances, to be made of very common clay. + +Ralph found himself wondering, as many another man has done, as he sat +watching and listening, by what curious or fatuous fate some of these +men in the gathering ever climbed into their exalted positions. + +He put the question to Sir John when he had an opportunity. + +"Most of them do not climb at all," was the laughing answer. "They are +simply pitchforked." + +"But surely it is merit that wins in a place like this?" + +Sir John laughed again. + +"In some cases, no doubt. For instance, you see that short, thick-set +man yonder. Well, he's one of the most effective speakers in the House. +A few years ago he was a working shoemaker. Then you see that +white-headed man yonder, with large forehead and deep, sad-looking eyes. +Well, he was a village schoolmaster for thirty years, and now he is +acknowledged to be one of the ablest men we have. Then there is Blank, +in the corner seat there below the gangway, a most brilliant fellow--a +farmer's son, without any early advantages at all. But I don't suppose +that either of them will ever get into office, or into what you call an +exalted position." + +"But why not?" + +"Ah, well"--and Sir John shrugged his shoulders--"you see, the ruling +classes in this country belong to--well, to the ruling classes." + +"But I thought ours was a purely democratic form of government?" + +"It is. But the democracy dearly love a lord. They have no faith in +their own order. The ruling classes have; so they remain the ruling +classes. And who can blame them?" + +"Still, when so much is at stake, the best men ought to be at the head +of affairs." + +"Possibly they are--that is, the best available men. Tradition goes for +a good deal in a country like this. Certain positions are filled, as a +matter of course, by people of rank. An historic name counts for a good +deal." + +"But suppose the bearer of the historic name should happen to be a +fool?" + +"Oh, well, we muddle through somehow. Get an extra war or two, perhaps, +and an addition to the taxes and to the national debt. But we are a +patient people, and don't mind very much. Besides, the majority of the +people are easily gulled." + +"Then promotion goes by favour?" Ralph questioned after a pause. + +"Why, of course it does. Did you ever doubt it? Take the case of the +Imperial Secretary. Does any sane man in England, irrespective of creed +or party, imagine for a moment that he would have got into that position +if he had not been the nephew of a duke?" + +"But isn't he a capable man?" + +"Capable?"--and Sir John shrugged his shoulders again. "Why, if he had +to depend on his own merits he wouldn't earn thirty shillings a week in +any business house in the City." + +Ralph walked away from the House of Commons with a curious feeling of +elation and disappointment. He had been greatly delighted in some +respects, and terribly disappointed in others. + +In St. James's Park he sat down in the shadow of a large chestnut tree +and tried to sort out his emotions. He had been in London three days, +but had scarcely got his bearings yet. Everything was very new, very +strange, and very wonderful. On the whole, he thought he would be very +glad to get away from it. It seemed to him the loneliest place on earth. +On every side there was the ceaseless roar of traffic, like the breaking +of the sea, and yet there was not a friendly face or a familiar voice +anywhere in all the throng. + +Suddenly he started and leaned eagerly forward. That was a familiar +face, surely, and a familiar voice. Two people passed close to where he +sat--a young man and a young woman. Her skirts almost brushed his boots; +her sunshade--which she was swinging--came within an inch of his hand. + +Dorothy Hamblyn! The words leapt to his lips unconsciously, but he did +not utter them. She passed on brightly--joyously, it seemed to him, but +she was quite unaware of his presence. In the main, her eyes were fixed +on the young man by her side--a slim, faultlessly dressed young man, +with pale face, retreating chin, and a bored expression in his eyes. + +Ralph rose to his feet and followed them. His heart was beating fast, +his knees trembled in spite of himself, his brain was in a whirl. What +he purposed doing or where he purposed going never occurred to him. He +simply followed a sudden impulse, whether it led to his undoing or not. + +He kept them in sight until they reached Hyde Park Corner. Then the +crowd swallowed them up for several moments. But he caught sight of them +again on the other side and followed them into the Park. For several +minutes he had considerable difficulty in disentangling them from the +crowd of people that hurried to and fro, but a large white plume Dorothy +wore in her hat assisted him. They came to a full stop at length, and +sat down on a couple of chairs. He discovered an empty chair on the +other side of the road, and sat down opposite. + +He was near enough to see her features distinctly, near enough to see +the light sparkle in her eyes, but not near enough to hear anything she +said. That, however, did not matter. He was content for the moment to +look at her. He wanted nothing better. + +How beautiful she was! She was no longer the squire's "little maid," she +was a woman now. Nearly two years had passed since he last saw her, and +those years had ripened all her charms and rounded them into perfection. + +He could look his fill without being observed. If she cast her eyes in +his direction she would not recognise him--probably she had forgotten +his existence. + +His nerves were still thrilling with a strange ecstasy. His eyes drank +in greedily every line and curve and expression of her face. In all this +great London there was no other face, he was sure, that could compare +with it, no other smile that was half so sweet. + +She rose at length, slowly and with seeming reluctance, to her feet. Her +companion at once sprang to her side. Ralph rose also, and faced them. +Why he did so he did not know. He was still following a blind and +unreasoning impulse. She paused for a moment or two and looked +steadfastly in his direction, then turned and quickly walked away, and a +moment later was swallowed up in the multitude. + +Ralph took one step forward, then turned back and sat down with a jerk. +He had come to himself at last. + +"Well, I have played the fool with a vengeance," he muttered to himself. +"I have just pulled down all I have been trying for the last two years +to build up." + +The next moment he was unconscious of his surroundings again. Crowds of +people passed and re-passed, but he saw one face only, the face that had +never ceased to haunt him since the hour when, in her bright, imperious +way, she commanded him to open the gate. + +How readily and vividly he recalled every incident of that afternoon. He +felt her arms about his neck even now. He was hurrying across the downs +once more in the direction of St. Goram. His heart was thrilling with a +new sensation. + +He came to himself again after a while and sauntered slowly out of the +Park. Beauty and wealth and fashion jostled him on every side, but it +was a meaningless show to him. Had Ruth been with him she would have +gone into ecstasies over the hats and dresses, for such creations were +never seen in St. Goram, nor even dreamed of. + +Men have to be educated to appreciate the splendours and glories of +feminine attire, and, generally speaking, the education is a slow and +disappointing process. The male eye is not quick in detecting the +subtleties of lace and chiffon, the values of furs and furbelows. + +"Women dress to please the men," somebody has remarked. That may be true +in some cases. More frequently, it is to be feared, they dress to make +other women envious. + +Ralph's education in the particular line referred to had not even +commenced. He knew nothing of the philosophy of clothes. He was vaguely +conscious sometimes that some people were well dressed and others ill +dressed, that some women were gowned becomingly and others unbecomingly, +but beyond that generalisation he never ventured. + +He had begun to dress well himself almost without knowing it. He +instinctively avoided everything that was loud or noticeable. Nature had +given him a good figure--tall, erect, and well proportioned. Moreover, +he was free from the vanity which makes a man self-conscious, and he was +sufficiently well educated to know what constituted a gentleman. + +He got back to the small hotel at which he was staying in time for an +early dinner, after which he strolled into the Embankment Gardens and +listened to the band. Later still, he found himself sitting on one of +the seats in Trafalgar Square listening to the splash of the fountains +and dreaming of home, and yet in every dream stood out the exquisite +face and figure of Dorothy Hamblyn. + +Next morning, because he had nothing to do, and because he was already +tired of sight-seeing, he made his way again into St. James's Park, and +found a seat near the lake and in the shadow of the trees. He told +himself that he came there in the hope that he might see Dorothy Hamblyn +again. + +He knew it was a foolish thing to do. But he had come to the unheroic +conclusion during the night that it was of no use fighting against Fate. +He loved Dorothy Hamblyn passionately, madly, and that was the end of +it. He could not help it. He had tried his best to root out the foolish +infatuation, and he had almost hoped that he was succeeding. But +yesterday's experience had torn the veil from his eyes, and revealed to +him the fact that he was more hopelessly in love than ever. + +How angry he was with himself he did not know. The folly of it made him +ashamed. His presumption filled him with amazement. If anyone else of +his own class had done the same thing he would have laughed him to +scorn. In truth, he could have kicked himself for his folly. + +Then, unconsciously, his mood would change, and self-pity would take the +place of scorn. He was not to blame. He was the victim of a cruel and +cynical Fate. He was being punished for hating her father so intensely. +It was the Nemesis of an evil passion. + +He spent most of the day in the Park, and kept an eager look-out in all +directions; but the vision of Dorothy's face did not again gladden his +eyes. A hundred times he started, and the warm blood rushed in a torrent +to his face, then he would walk slowly on again. + +On the following morning he met Sir John Liskeard, by appointment, in +his chambers in the Temple. + +"He had been going into the case," he explained to Ralph, "with +considerable care, but even now he had not found out all he wanted to +know. He had, however, discovered one or two facts which had an +important bearing on the case." + +He was careful to explain, again, that in equity he considered Ralph's +claim incontestable, while nothing could be more honourable than the way +in which he had tried to come to terms with the company. He spoke +strongly of the high-handed and tyrannous way in which a rich and +powerful company were trying to crush a poor man and rob him of the +fruits of his skill and enterprise. + +But, on the other hand, there was no doubt whatever that the company +would be able to cite a clear case. To begin with, the agreement, or the +concession, was very loosely worded. Moreover, no time limit had been +set, which might imply that the company retained the right of +withdrawing the concession at any moment. It was also contended by some +of the shareholders that the company, as a whole, could not be held +responsible for mistakes made by the chairman. That, however, he held +was a silly contention, inasmuch as the agreement was stamped with the +company's seal, and was signed by the secretary and two directors. + +On the other hand, there could be no doubt that the concession had been +hurriedly made, no one at the time realising that there was any value in +the rubbish heap that had been accumulating for the biggest part of a +century. On one point, however, the company had cleverly forestalled +them. It had purchased, recently, the freehold of Daniel Rickard's farm. +This, no doubt, was a very astute move, and mightily strengthened the +company's position. + +"I am bound, also, to point out one other fact," the lawyer went on. "I +have discovered that both Lord Probus and Lord St. Goram are +considerable shareholders in the concern. They are both tremendously +impressed by what I may term 'the potentialities of the tailing heap.' +In fact, they believe there's a huge fortune in it, and they are +determined that the company shall reap the reward of your discovery." + +"They need not be so greedy," Ralph said bitterly. "They have both far +more than they know how to spend, and they might have been willing to +give a beginner a chance." + +"You know the old saying," Sir John said, with a smile. "'Much would +have more.'" + +"I've heard it," Ralph said moodily. + +"You will understand I am not talking to you merely as a lawyer. There +is no doubt whatever that you have a case, and a very clear case. I may +add, a very strong case." + +"And what, roughly speaking, would it cost to fight it in a court of +law?" + +Sir John shrugged his shoulders and smiled knowingly. + +"I might name a minimum figure," he said, and he did. + +Ralph started, and half rose from his chair. + +"That settles the matter," he said, after a pause. + +"It would be a very unequal contest," Sir John remarked. + +"You mean----" + +"I mean, they could take it from court to court, and simply cripple you +with law costs." + +"So, as usual, the weak must go to the wall?" + +"To be quite candid with you, I could not advise you to risk what you +have made." + +"What I have made is very little indeed," Ralph answered. + +"I thought you had made a small fortune." + +"I could have made a little if I had been given time; but I have spent +most of the profit in increasing and improving the plant." + +"I am sorry. To say the least, it is rough on you." + +"It is what I have been used to all my life," Ralph said absently. "The +powerful appear to recognise no law but their own strength." + +When Ralph found himself in the street again his thoughts immediately +turned towards home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +TRUTH WILL OUT + + +Ralph went back to his hotel with the intention of packing his bag, and +returning home by the first available train. He had got what he came to +London to get, and there was no need for him to waste more time and +money in the big city. He was not disappointed. The learned counsel had +taken precisely the view he had expected, and had given the advice that +might be looked for from a friend and well-wisher. + +He was not sorry he had come. The reasoned opinion of a man of law and a +man of affairs was worth paying for. Though he had practically lost +everything, he would go back home better satisfied. He would not be able +to blame himself for either cowardice or stupidity. His business now was +to submit with the best grace possible to those who were more powerful +than himself. + +It was annoying, no doubt, to see the harvest of his research and +industry and enterprise reaped by other people--by people who had never +given an hour's thought or labour to the matter. But his experience was +by no means peculiar. It was only on rare occasions the inventor +profited by the labour of his brains. It was the financier who pocketed +the gold. The man of intellect laboured, the man of finance entered into +his labours. + +As Ralph made his way slowly along the Strand he could not help +wondering what his next move would be when he got home. As far as he +could see, he was on his beam-ends once more. There appeared to be no +further scope for enterprise in St. Ivel or in St. Goram. He might go +back to the mine again and work for fourteen shillings a week, but such +a prospect was not an inviting one. He was built on different lines from +most of his neighbours. The steady work and the steady wage and the +freedom from responsibility did not appeal to him as it appealed to so +many people. He rather liked responsibility. The question of wage was of +very secondary importance. He disliked the smooth, well-trodden paths. +The real interest in life was in carving out new paths for himself and +other people. + +But there were no new paths to be carved out in St. Ivel or in the +neighbouring parishes. The one new thing of a generation--born in his +own brain--had been taken out of his hands, and there was nothing left +but the old ruts, worn deep by the feet of many generations. + +He began to wonder what all the people who jostled him in the street did +for a living. Was there anything new or fresh in their lives, or did +they travel the same weary round day after day and year after year? + +The sight of so many people in the street doing nothing--or apparently +doing nothing--oppressed him. The side walks were crowded. 'Buses were +thronged, cabs and hansoms rolled past, filled, seemingly, with idle +people. And yet nearly everybody appeared to be eager and alert. What +were they after? What phantom were they pursuing? What object had they +in life? He turned down a quiet street at length, glad to escape the +noise and bustle, and sought the shelter of his hotel. + +Before proceeding to pack his bag, however, he consulted a time-table, +and discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that there was no train that +would take him to St. Goram that day. He could get as far as Plymouth, +but no farther. + +"It's no use making two bites at a cherry," he said to himself; "so I'll +stay where I am another day." + +An hour or two later he found himself once more in the Park in the +shadow of the trees. It was here he first saw Dorothy, and he cherished +a vague hope that she might pass that way again. He called himself a +fool for throwing oil on the flame of a hopeless passion, but in his +heart he pitied himself more than he blamed. + +Moreover, he needed something to draw away his thoughts from himself. If +he brooded too long on his disappointments, he might lose heart and +hope. It was much pleasanter to think of Dorothy than of the treatment +he had received at the hands of the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company, so he +threw himself, with a sigh, on an empty seat and watched the people +passing to and fro. + +Most people walked slowly, for the day was hot. The ladies carried +sunshades, and were clad in the flimsiest materials. The roar of the +streets was less insistent than when he sat there before. But London +still seemed to him an inexpressibly lonely place. + +He was never quite sure how long he sat there. An hour, perhaps. Perhaps +two hours. Time was not a matter that concerned him just then. His brain +kept alternating between the disappointments of the past and hopes of +the future. He came to himself with a start. The rustle of a dress, +accompanied by a faint perfume as of spring violets, caused him to raise +his head with a sudden movement. + +"I thought I could not be mistaken!" + +The words fell upon his ears with a curious sense of remoteness such as +one experiences sometimes in dreams. + +The next moment he was on his feet, his face aglow, his eyes sparkling +with intense excitement. + +"Did I not see you two days ago? Pardon me for speaking, but really, to +see one from home is like a draught of water to a thirsty traveller." +And Dorothy's voice ended in a little ripple of timid laughter. + +"It is a long time since you were at St. Goram?" he said, in a +questioning tone. + +"I scarcely remember how long," she answered. "It seems ages and ages. +Won't you tell me all the news?" + +"I shall be delighted," he said; and he walked away by her side. + +"Father writes to me every week or two," she went on, "but I can never +get any news out of him. I suppose it is that nothing happens in St. +Goram." + +"In the main we move in the old ruts," he answered slowly. "Besides, +your father will not be interested in the common people, as they are +called." + +"He is getting very tired of the place. He wants to get his household +into the very smallest compass, so that he can spend more time in London +and abroad." + +"Do you like living in London?" + +"In the winter, very much; but in the summer I pine for St. Goram. I +want the breeze of the downs and the shade of the plantation." + +"But you will be running down before the summer is over?" + +"I am afraid not. To begin with, I cannot get away very well, and then I +think my father intends practically to shut up the house at the end of +this month." + +"And your brother?" + +"He will stay with my Aunt Fanny in London--she is my father's sister, +you know--or he may go abroad with father for a month or two." And she +sighed unconsciously. + +For a while they walked on in silence. They had left the hot yellow path +for the green turf. In front of them was a belt of trees, with chairs +dotted about in the shadow. Ralph felt as though he were in dreamland. +It seemed scarcely credible that he should be walking and talking with +the daughter of Sir John Hamblyn. + +Dorothy broke the silence at length, and her words came with manifest +effort. + +"I hope my father expressed his regret, and apologised for the mistake +he made?" + +"Oh, as to that," he said, with a short laugh, "I am afraid I have given +him no opportunity. You see, I have been very much occupied, and then I +don't live in St. Goram now." + +"And--and--your people?" + +"You know, I suppose, that my mother is dead?" + +"No; I had not heard. Oh, I am so sorry!" + +"She died the day after I came back from prison." + +"Oh, how sad!" + +"I don't think she thought so. She was glad to welcome me back again, of +course, and to know that my innocence had been established. But since +father died she seemed to have nothing to live for." + +Then silence fell again for several minutes. They had reached the shadow +of the trees, and Dorothy suggested that they should sit down and rest a +while. Ralph pulled up a chair nearly opposite her. He still felt like +one in a dream. Every now and then he raised his eyes to her face, and +thought how beautiful she had grown. + +"Do you know," she said, breaking the silence again, "I was almost +afraid to speak to you just now." + +"Afraid?" + +"You have suffered a good deal at our hands." + +"Well?" His heart was in a tumult, but he kept himself well in hand. + +"It must require a good deal of grace to keep you from hating us most +intensely." + +"I am afraid I am not as good a hater as I would like to be." + +"As you would like to be?" + +"It has not been for want of trying, I can assure you. But Fate loves to +make fools of us." + +"I don't think I quite understand," she said, looking puzzled. + +"Do you want to understand?" he questioned, speaking slowly and +steadily, though every drop of blood in his veins seemed to be at +boiling point. + +"Yes, very much," she answered, making a hole in the ground with her +sunshade. + +"Then you shall know," he said, with his eyes on some distant object. He +had grown quite reckless. He feared nothing, cared for nothing. It would +be a huge joke to tell this proud daughter of the house of Hamblyn the +honest truth. Moreover, it might help him to defy the Fate that was +mocking him, might help to relieve the tension of the last few days, and +would certainly put an end to the possibility of her ever speaking to +him again. + +"You are right when you say I have suffered a good deal, I won't say at +your hands, but at the hands of your father, and Heaven knows my hatred +of him has not lacked intensity." Then he paused suddenly and looked at +her, but she did not raise her eyes. + +"You are his daughter," he went on, slowly and bitingly, "his own flesh +and blood. You bear a name that I loathe more than any other name on +earth." + +She winced visibly, and her cheeks became crimson. + +"But Fate has been cruel to me in every way. Your very kindness to me, +to Ruth, to my mother, has only added to my torture----" + +"Added to----" + +But he did not let her finish the sentence. His nerves were strung up to +the highest point of tension. He felt, in a sense, outside himself. He +was no longer master of his own emotions. + +"Had you been like your father," he continued, "I could have hated you +also. But it may be that, to punish me for hating your father so +bitterly, God made me love you." + +She rose to her feet in a moment, her face ashen. + +"Don't go away," he said, quietly and deliberately. "It will do you no +harm to hear me out. I did not seek this interview. I shall never seek +another. A man who has been in prison, and whose mother died in the +workhouse----" + +"In the workhouse?" she said, with a gasp. + +"Thanks to your father," he said slowly and bitterly. "And yet, in spite +of all this, I had dared to love you. No, don't sneer at me," he said, +mistaking a motion of her lips. "God knows I have about as much as I can +bear. I tried to hate you. I felt it almost a religious duty to hate +you. I fought against the passion that has conquered me till I had no +strength left." + +She had sat down again, with her eyes upon the ground, but her bosom was +heaving as though a tempest raged beneath. + +"Why have you told me this?" she said at length, with a sudden fierce +light in her eyes. + +"Oh, I hardly know," he said, with a reckless laugh. "For the fun of it, +I expect. Don't imagine I have any ulterior object in view, save that of +self-defence." + +"Self-defence?" + +"Yes; you will despise me now. My effrontery and impertinence will be +too much even for your large charity. I can fancy how the tempest of +your scorn is gathering. I don't mind it. Let it rage. It may help to +turn my heart against you." + +She did not answer him; she sat quite still with her eyes fixed upon the +ground. + +He looked at her for several moments in silence, and his mood began to +change. What spirit had possessed him to talk as he had done? + +She rose to her feet at length, and raised her eyes timidly to his face. +Whether she was angry or disgusted, or only sorry, he could not tell. + +He rose also, but he scarcely dared to look at her. + +"Good-afternoon," she said at length; and she held out her hand to him. + +"Good-afternoon," he answered; but he did not take her outstretched +hand, he pretended not even to see it. + +He stood still and watched her walk away out into the level sunshine; +watched her till she seemed but a speck of colour in the hazy distance. +Then, with a sigh, he turned his face towards the City. He still felt +more or less like one in a dream: there seemed to be an air of unreality +about everything. Perhaps he would come to himself directly and discover +that he was not in London at all. + +He did not return to his hotel until nearly bedtime. The porter handed +him a letter which came soon after he went out. + +It was from Sir John Liskeard, and requested that Ralph would call on +him again at his rooms in the Temple on the following morning, any time +between ten and half-past. No reason was given why Sir John wanted this +second interview. + +Ralph stood staring at the letter for several moments, then slowly put +it back into the envelope, and into his pocket. + +"Perhaps some new facts have come to light," he said to himself, as he +made his way slowly up the stairs, and a thrill of hope and expectancy +shot through his heart. "Perhaps my journey to London may not be without +fruit after all. I wonder now----" + +And when he awoke next morning he was still wondering. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +HOME AGAIN + + +"I am sorry to have troubled you to call again," was Sir John's +greeting, "but there is a little matter that quite slipped my memory +yesterday. Won't you be seated?" + +Ralph sat down, still hoping that he was going to hear some good news. + +"It is nothing about the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company," Sir John went +on, "and, in fact, nothing that concerns you personally." + +Ralph's face fell, and the sparkle went out of his eyes. It was foolish +of him ever to hope for anything. Good news did not come his way. He did +not say anything, however. + +"The truth is, a friend of mine is considering the advisability of +purchasing Hillside Farm, and has asked me to make one or two inquiries +about it." + +Ralph gave a little gasp, but remained silent. + +"Now, I presume," Sir John said, with a little laugh, "if there is a man +alive who knows everything about the farm there is to be known you are +that man." + +"But I do not understand," Ralph said. "I have always understood that +the Hamblyn estate is strictly entailed." + +"That is true of the original estate. But you may or you may not be +aware that Hillside came to Sir John by virtue of the Land Enclosures +Act." + +"Oh yes, I know all about that," Ralph said, with a touch of scorn in +his voice; "and a most iniquitous Act it was." + +Sir John shrugged his shoulders, a very common habit of his. It was not +his place to speak ill of an Act of Parliament which had put a good deal +of money into his pocket and into the pockets of his professional +brethren in all parts of the country. + +"Into the merits of this particular Act," he said, a little stiffly, "we +need not enter now. Suffice it that Hamblyn is quite at liberty to +dispose of the freehold if he feels so inclined." + +"And he intends to sell Hillside Farm?" + +"Well, between ourselves, he does--that is, if he can get rid of it by +private treaty. Naturally, he does not want the matter talked about. I +understand there is a very valuable stone quarry in one corner of the +estate." + +"There is a quarry," Ralph answered slowly, for his thoughts were intent +on another matter, "but whether it is very valuable or not I cannot say. +I should judge it is not of great value, or the squire would not want to +sell the freehold." + +"When a man is compelled to raise a large sum of money there is +frequently for him no option." + +"And is that the case with Sir John?" + +"There can be no doubt whatever that he is hard up. His life interest in +the Hamblyn estate is, I fancy, mortgaged to the hilt. If he can sell +Hillside Farm at the price he is asking for it, he will have some ready +cash to go on with." + +"What is the price he names?" + +"Twenty years' purchase on the net rental--the same on the mineral +dues." + +"There are no mineral dues," Ralph said quickly, and his thoughts flew +back in a moment to that conversation he had with his father. + +"Well, quarry dues, then," Sir John said, with a smile. + +"And is your friend likely to purchase?" Ralph questioned. + +"I believe he would like the farm. But he is a cautious man, and is +anxious to find out all he can before he strikes a bargain." + +"And will he be guided by your advice?" + +"In the main he will." + +"Then, if you are his friend, you will advise him to make haste slowly." + +"You think the farm is not worth the money?" + +"To the ordinary investor I am sure it is not. To the man who wants it +for some sentimental reason the case is different." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Well, if I were a rich man, for instance, I might be disposed to give a +good deal more for it than it is worth. You see, I helped to reclaim the +land from the waste. I know every bush and tree on the farm. I remember +every apple tree being planted. I love the place, for it was my home. My +father died there----" + +"Then why don't you buy it?" interrupted Sir John. + +Ralph laughed. + +"You might as well ask me why I don't buy the moon," he said. "If I had +been allowed to go on with my present work I might have been able to buy +it in time. Now it is quite out of the question." + +"That is a pity," Sir John said meditatively. + +"I don't know that it is," Ralph answered. "One cannot live on +sentiment." + +"And yet sentiment plays a great part in one's life." + +"No doubt it does, but with the poor the first concern is how to live." + +"Then, sentiment apart, you honestly think the place is not worth the +money?" + +"I'm sure it isn't. Jenkins told me not long ago that if he could not +get his rent lowered he should give up the farm." + +"And what about the quarry?" + +"It will be worked out in half a dozen years at the outside." + +"You think so?" + +"I do honestly. I've no desire to do harm to the squire, though God +knows he has been no friend to me. But twenty years' purchase at the +present rental and dues would be an absurd price." + +"I think it is rather stiff myself." + +"Is Sir John selling the place through some local agent or solicitor?" + +"Oh no. Messrs. Begum & Swear, Chancery Lane, are acting for him." + +An hour later, Ralph was rolling away in an express train towards the +west. He sat next the window, and kept his eyes steadily fixed on the +scenery through which he passed. And yet he saw very little of it; his +thoughts were too intent on other things. Towns, villages, hamlets, +homesteads, flew past, but he scarcely heeded. Wooded hills drew near +and faded away in the distance. The river gleamed and flashed and hid +itself. Gaily-dressed people made patches of colour in shady backwaters +for a moment; the sparkle of a weir caught his eye, and was gone. + +It was only in after days that he recalled the incidents of the journey; +for the moment he could think of nothing but Dorothy Hamblyn and the +sale of Hillside Farm. The sudden failure of his small commercial +enterprise did not worry him. He knew the worst of that. To cry over +spilt milk was waste both of time and energy. His business was not to +bewail the past, but to face resolutely the future. + +But Dorothy and the fate of Hillside Farm belonged to a different +category. Dorothy he could not forget, try as he would. She had stolen +his heart unconsciously, and he would never love another. At least, he +would never love another in the same deep, passionate, overmastering +way. He was still angry with himself for his mad outburst of the +previous day, and could not imagine what possessed him to speak as he +did. He wondered, too, what she thought of him. Was her feeling one of +pity, or anger, or amusement, or contempt, or was it a mixture of all +these qualities? + +Then, for a while, she would pass out of his mind, and a picture of +Hillside Farm would come up before his vision. On the whole, he was not +sorry that the squire was compelled to sell. It was a sort of Nemesis, a +rough-and-ready vindication of justice and right. + +The place never was his in equity, whatever it might be in law. If it +belonged to anybody, it belonged to the man who reclaimed it from the +wilderness. + +No, he was not sorry that the squire was unable to keep it. It seemed to +restore his faith in the existence of a moral order. A man who was not +worthy to be a steward--who abused the power he possessed--ought to be +deposed. It was in the eternal fitness of things that he should give +place to a better man. + +Ruth met him at St. Ivel Road Station, and they walked home together in +the twilight. They talked fitfully, with long breaks in the +conversation. He had told her by letter the result of his mission, so +that he had nothing of importance to communicate. + +"The men are very much cut up," she said, after a little lull in their +talk, which had been mainly about London. "Several of them called this +afternoon to know if I had heard any news; and when I told them that you +were not going to contest the claim of the company, and that the works +would cease, they looked as if they would cry." + +"I hope they will be able to get work somewhere else," he answered +quietly. + +"But they will not get such wages as you have been giving them. You +cannot imagine how popular you are. I believe the men would do anything +for you." + +"I believe they would do anything in reason," he said. "I have tried to +treat them fairly, and I am quite sure they have done their best to +treat me fairly. People are generally paid back in their own coin." + +"And have you any idea what you will do next?" she questioned, after a +pause. + +"Not the ghost of an idea, Ruth. If I had not you to think of, I would +go abroad and try my fortune in a freer air." + +"Don't talk about going abroad," she said, with a little gasp. + +"Yet it may have to come to it," he answered. "One feels bound hand and +foot in a country like this." + +"But are other countries any better?" + +"The newer countries of the West and our own Colonies do not seem quite +so hidebound. What with our land laws and our mineral dues, and our +leasehold systems, and our patent laws, and our precedents, and our +rights of way and all the bewildering entanglements of red-tapeism, one +feels as helpless as a squirrel in a cage. One cannot walk out on the +hills, or sit on the cliffs, or fish in the sea without permission of +somebody. All the streams and rivers are owned; all the common land has +been appropriated; all the minerals a hundred fathoms below the surface +are somebody's by divine right. One wonders that the very atmosphere has +not been staked out into freeholds." + +"But things are as they have always been, dear," Ruth said quietly. + +"No, not always," he said, with a laugh. + +"Well, for a very long time, anyhow. And, after all, they are no worse +for us than for other people." + +He did not reply to this remark. Getting angry with the social order did +not mend things, and he had no wish to carp and cavil when no good could +come of it. + +Within the little cottage everything was ready for the evening meal. The +kettle was singing on the hob, the table was laid, the food ready to be +brought in. + +"It is delightful to be home again," Ralph said, throwing himself into +his easy-chair. "After all, there's no place like home." + +"And did you like London?" + +"Yes and no," he answered meditatively. "It is a very wonderful place, +and I might grow to be fond of it in time. But it seemed to be so +terribly lonely, and then one's vision seemed so cramped. One could only +look down lines of streets--you are shut in by houses everywhere. The +sun rose behind houses, set behind houses. You wanted to see the distant +spaces, to look across miles of country, to catch glimpses of the +far-off hills, but the houses shut out everything. Oh, it is a lonely +place!" + +"And yet it is crowded with people?" + +"And that adds to the feeling of loneliness," he replied. "You are +jostled and bumped on every side, and you know nobody. Not a face in all +the thousands you recognise." + +"I should like to see it all some day." + +"Some day you shall," he said. "If ever I grow rich enough you shall +have a month there. But let us not talk of London just now. Has anything +happened since I went away?" + +"Nothing at all, Ralph." + +"And has nobody been to see you?" + +"Nobody except Mary Telfer. She has come in most days, and always like a +ray of sunshine." + +"She is a very cheerful little body," Ralph said, and then began to +attack his supper. + +A few minutes later he looked up and said-- + +"Did you ever hear the old saying, Ruth, that one has to go from home to +hear news?" + +"Why, of course," she said, with a laugh. "Who hasn't?" + +"I had rather a remarkable illustration of the old saw this morning." + +"Indeed?" + +"I had to go to London to learn that Hillside Farm is for sale." + +"For sale, Ralph?" + +"So Sir John Liskeard told me. I warrant that nobody in St. Goram +knows." + +"Are you very sorry?" she questioned. + +"Not a bit. The squire squeezed his tenants for all they were worth, and +now the money-lenders are squeezing him. It's only poetic justice, after +all." + +"Yet surely he is to be pitied?" + +"Well, yes. Every man is to be pitied who fools away his money on the +Turf and on other questionable pursuits, and yet when the pinch comes +you cannot help saying it serves him right." + +"But nobody suffers alone, Ralph." + +"I know that," he answered, the colour mounting suddenly to his cheeks. +"But as far as his son Geoffrey is concerned, it may do him good not to +have unlimited cash." + +"I was not thinking of Geoffrey. I was thinking of Miss Dorothy." + +"It may do her good also," he said, a little savagely. "Women are none +the worse for knowing the value of a sovereign." + +For several minutes there was silence; then Ruth said, without raising +her eyes-- + +"I wish we were rich, Ralph." + +"For why?" he questioned with a smile, half guessing what was in her +mind. + +"We would buy Hillside Farm." + +"You would like to go back there again to live?" + +"Shouldn't I just! Oh, Ralph, it would be like heaven!" + +"I'm not so sure that I should like to go back," he said, after a long +pause. + +"No?" she questioned. + +"Don't you think the pain would outweigh the pleasure?" + +"Oh no. I think father and mother wander through the orchard and across +the fields still, and I should feel nearer to them there; and I'm sure +it would make heaven a better place for them if they knew we were back +in the old home." + +"Ah, well," he said, with a sigh, "that is a dream we cannot indulge in. +Sir John Liskeard asked me why I did not buy it." + +"And what did you say to him?" + +"What could I say, Ruth, except that I could just as easily buy the +moon?" + +"Would the freehold cost so much?" + +"As the moon?" + +"No, no, I don't mean that, you silly boy; but is land so very, very +dear?" + +"Compared with land in or near big towns or cities, it is very, very +cheap." + +"But I mean it would take a lot of money to buy Hillside?" + +"You and I would think it a lot." And then the sound of footsteps was +heard outside, followed a moment later by a timid knock at the door. + +"I wonder who it can be?" Ruth said, starting to her feet. "I'm glad you +are at home, or I should feel quite nervous." + +"Do you think burglars would knock at the front door and ask if they +might come in?" he questioned, with a laugh. + +Ruth did not reply, but went at once to the door and opened it, much +wondering who their visitor could be, for it was very rarely anyone +called at so late an hour. + +It had grown quite dark outside, so that she could only see the outline +of two tall figures standing in the garden path. + +She was quickly reassured by a familiar voice saying-- + +"Is your brother at home, Miss Penlogan?" + +And then for some reason the hot blood rushed in a torrent to her neck +and face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A TRYING POSITION + + +William Menire was troubled about two things--troubles rarely come +singly. The first trouble arose a week or two previously out of a +request preferred by a cousin of his, a young farmer from a neighbouring +parish, who wanted an introduction to Ruth Penlogan. + +Sam Tremail was a good-looking young fellow of irreproachable character. +Moreover, he was well-to-do, his father and mother having retired and +left a large farm on his hands. He stood nearly six feet in his boots, +had never known a day's illness in his life, was only twenty-six years +of age, lived in a capital house, and only wanted a good wife to make +him the happiest man on earth. + +Yet for some reason there was not a girl in his own parish that quite +took his fancy. Not that there was any lack of eligible young ladies; +not that he had set his heart on either beauty or fortune. Disdainful +and disappointed mothers who had daughters to spare said that he was +proud and stuck-up--that they did not know what the young men of the +present day were coming to, and that Sam Tremail deserved to catch a +tartar. + +Some of these remarks were repeated to Sam, and he acknowledged their +force. He had a feeling that he ought to marry a girl from his own +parish. He admitted their eligibility. Some of them were exceedingly +pretty, and one or two of them had money in their own right. Yet for +some reason they left his heart untouched. They were admirable as +acquaintances, or even friends, but they moved him to no deeper emotion. + +He first caught sight of Ruth at the sale when her father's worldly +goods were being disposed of by public auction. She looked so sad, so +patient, so gentle, so meekly resigned, that a new chord in his nature +seemed to be set suddenly vibrating, and it had gone on vibrating ever +since. It might be pity he felt for her, or sympathy; but, whatever it +was, it made him anxious to know her better. Her sweet, sad eyes haunted +him, her tremulous lips made him long to comfort her. + +How to get acquainted with her, however, remained an insoluble problem. +She was altogether outside the circle of his friends. She had lived all +her life in another parish, and moved in an entirely different orbit. + +While she lived with Mr. Varcoe at St. Hilary, he met her several times +in the streets--for he went to St. Hilary market at least once a +fortnight--but he had no excuse for speaking to her. He knew, of course, +of the misfortune that had overtaken her, knew that she was earning her +living in service of some kind, knew that her mother was in the +workhouse, that her brother was in prison awaiting his trial, but all +that only increased the volume of his compassion. He felt that he would +willingly give all he possessed for the privilege of helping and +comforting her. + +For a long time he lost sight of her; then he learned that she had gone +to keep house for her brother at St. Ivel. But St. Ivel was a long way +from Pentudy, and there was practically no direct communication between +the two parishes. + +Then he learned that William Menire--a second cousin of his--was on +friendly terms with the Penlogans; but the trouble was he hardly knew +his relative by sight, and he had never made any effort to know him +better. In the past, at any rate, the Menires had not been considered +socially the equals of the Tremails. The Tremails had been large farmers +for generations. The Menires were nothing in particular. + +William was a grocer's assistant when his father died. How he had +managed to maintain his mother and build up a flourishing business out +of nothing was a story often told in St. Goram. The very severity of his +struggle was perhaps in his favour. His neighbours sympathised with him +in his uphill fight, and patronised his small shop when it was +convenient to do so. So his business grew. Later on people discovered +that they could get better stuff for the money at William's shop than +almost anywhere else. Hence, when sympathy failed, self-interest took +its place. As William's capital increased, he added new departments to +his business, and vastly improved the appearance of his premises. He +turned the whole side of his shop into a big window at his own expense, +not asking Lord St. Goram for a penny. + +At the time of which we write, William had reached the sober age of +thirty-six, and was generally looked upon as a man of substance. + +He was surprised one evening to receive a visit from his cousin, Sam +Tremail. The young farmer had to make himself known. He did so in rather +a clumsy fashion; but then, the task he had set himself was a delicate +one, and he had not been trained in the art of diplomacy. + +"It seems a pity," Sam said, with a benevolent smile, "that relatives +should be as strangers to each other." + +"Relationships don't count for much in these days, I fear," William +answered cautiously. "Nevertheless, I am glad to see you." + +"You think it is every man for himself, eh?" Sam questioned, with a +slight blush. + +"I don't say it is the philosophy or the practice of every man. But in +the main----" + +"Yes, I think you are right," Sam interjected, with a sudden burst of +candour. "And, really, I don't want you to think that I am absolutely +disinterested in riding over from Pentudy to see you." + +"It is a long journey for nothing," William said, with a smile. + +"Mind you, I have often wanted to know you better," Sam went on. "Father +has often spoken of your pluck and perseverance. He admires you +tremendously." + +"It is very kind of him," William said, with a touch of cynicism in his +tones. "I hope he is well. I have not seen him for years." + +"He is first rate, thank you, and so is mother. I suppose you know they +have retired from the farm?" + +"No, I had not heard." + +"I have it in my own hands now. For some things I wish I hadn't. I tried +to persuade father and mother to live on in the house, but they had made +up their minds to go and live in town, where they could have gas in the +streets, and all that kind of thing. If I had only a sister to keep +house it wouldn't be so bad." + +"But why don't you get married?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, that is the very thing I have come to talk +to you about." + +And Sam turned all ways in his chair, and looked decidedly +uncomfortable. + +"Come to talk to me about?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise. + +"You think it funny, of course; but the truth is----" And Sam looked +apprehensively towards the door. "We shall not be overheard here, shall +we?" + +"There's no one in the house but myself, except the cook. Mother's gone +out to see a neighbour." + +"Oh, well, I'm glad I've caught you on the quiet, as it were. I wouldn't +have the matter talked about for the world." + +William began to feel uncomfortable, and to wonder what his kinsman had +been up to. + +"I hope you have not been getting into any foolish matrimonial +entanglement?" he questioned seriously. + +Sam laughed heartily and good-humouredly. + +"No, no; things are not quite so bad as that," he said. "The fact is, I +would like to get into a matrimonial entanglement, as you call it, but +not into a foolish one." + +Then he stopped suddenly, and began to fidget again in his chair. + +"Then you are not engaged yet?" + +"Well, not quite." + +And Sam laughed again. + +William waited for him to continue, but Sam appeared to start off on an +entirely new tack. + +"I don't think I've been in St. Goram parish since the sale at Hillside +Farm. You remember it?" + +"Very well!" + +"How bad luck seems to dog the steps of some people. I felt tremendously +sorry for David Penlogan. He was a good man, by all accounts." + +"There was no more saintly man in the three parishes." + +"The mischief is, saints are generally so unpractical. They tell me the +son is of different fibre." + +"He's as upright as his father, but with a difference." + +"A cruel thing to send him to gaol on suspicion, and keep him there so +long." + +"It was a wicked thing to do, but it hasn't spoilt him. He's the most +popular man in St. Ivel to-day." + +"I remember him at the sale--a handsome, high-spirited fellow; but his +sister interested me most. I thought her smile the sweetest I had ever +seen." + +"She's as sweet as her smile, and a good deal more so," William said, +with warmth. "In fact, she has no equal hereabouts." + +"I hear you are on friendly terms with them." + +"Well, yes," William said slowly. "Not that I would presume to call +myself their equal, for they are in reality very superior people. +There's no man in St. Goram, and I include the landed folk, so well +educated or so widely read as Ralph Penlogan." + +"And his sister?" + +"She's a lady, every inch of her," William said warmly; "and what is +more, they'll make their way in the world. He's ability, and of no +ordinary kind. The rich folk may crush him for a moment, but he'll come +into his own in the long-run." + +"Are they the proud sort?" + +"Proud? Well, it all depends on what you mean by the word. Dignity they +have, self-respect, independence; but pride of the common or garden sort +they haven't a bit." + +"I thought I could not be mistaken," Sam said, after a pause; "and to +tell you the honest truth, I've never been able to think of any other +girl since I saw Miss Penlogan at the sale." + +William started and grew very pale. + +"I don't think I quite understand," he said, after a long pause. + +"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Sam questioned eagerly. + +"I don't know that I do," William answered. + +"Well, I do," Sam retorted. "A man may fall desperately in love with a +girl without even speaking to her." + +"Well?" William questioned. + +"That's just my case." + +"Your case?" + +Sam nodded. + +"Explain yourself," William said, with a curiously numb feeling at his +heart. + +"Mind, I am speaking to you in perfect confidence," Sam said. + +William assented. + +"I was taken with Ruth Penlogan the very first moment I set eyes on her. +I don't think it was pity, mind you, though I did pity her from my very +heart. Her great sad eyes; her sweet, patient face; her gentle, pathetic +smile--they just bowled me over. I could have knelt down at her feet and +worshipped her." + +"You didn't do it?" William questioned huskily. + +"It was neither the time nor the place, and I have never had an +opportunity since. I saw her again and again in the streets of St. +Hilary, but, of course, I could not speak to her, and I didn't know a +soul who could get me an introduction." + +"And you mean that you are in love with her?" + +"I expect I am," Sam answered, with an uneasy laugh. "If I'm not in +love, I don't know what ails me. I want a wife badly. A man in a big +house without a wife to look after things is to be pitied. Well, that's +just my case." + +"But--but----" William began; then hesitated. + +"You mean that there are plenty of eligible girls in Pentudy?" Sam +questioned. "I don't deny it. We have any amount. All sorts and sizes, +if you'll excuse me saying so. Girls with good looks and girls with +money. Girls of weight, and girls with figures. But they don't interest +me, not one of them. I compare 'em all with Ruth Penlogan, and then it's +all up a tree." + +"But you have never spoken to Miss Penlogan." + +"That's just the point I'm coming to. The Penlogans are friends of +yours. You go to their house sometimes. Now I want you to take me with +you some day and introduce me. Don't you see? There's no impropriety in +it. I'm perfectly honest and sincere. I want to get to know her, and +then, of course, I'll take my chance." + +William looked steadily at his kinsman, and a troubled expression came +into his eyes. He loved Ruth Penlogan himself, loved her with a +passionate devotion that once he hardly believed possible. She had +become the light of his eyes, the sunshine of his life. He hardly +realised until this moment how much she had become to him. The thought +of her being claimed by another man was almost torture to him; and yet, +ought he to stand in the way of her happiness? + +This might be the working of an inscrutable Providence. Sam Tremail, +from all he had ever heard, was a most excellent fellow. He could place +Ruth in a position that was worthy of her, and one that she would in +every way adorn. He could lift her above the possibility of want, and +out of reach of worry. He could give her a beautiful home and an assured +position. + +"I hope you do not think this is a mere whim of mine, or an idle fancy?" +Sam said, seeing that William hesitated. + +"Oh no, not at all," William answered, a little uneasily. "I was +thinking that it was a little bit unusual." + +"It is unusual, no doubt." + +"And to take you along and say, 'My cousin is very anxious to know you,' +would be to let the cat out of the bag at the start." + +"Do you think so?" + +"Don't you think so, now? There must be a reason for everything. And the +very first question Miss Penlogan would ask herself would be, 'Why does +this young man want to know me?'" + +"Well, I don't know that that would matter. Indeed, it might help me +along." + +"But when you got to know her better you might not care for her quite so +much." + +"Do you really think that?" + +"Well, no. The chances are the other way about. Only there is no +accounting for people, you know." + +"I don't think I am fickle," Sam answered seriously. + +"Still, so far it is only a pretty face that has attracted you." + +"Oh no, it is more than that. It is the character behind the face. I am +sure she is good. She appeals to me as no other woman has ever done. I +am not afraid of not loving her. It is the other thing that troubles +me." + +"You think she might not care for you?" + +"She could not do so at the start. You see I have been dreaming of her +for the last two years. She has filled my imagination, if you +understand. I have been worshipping her all the time. But on her side +there is nothing. She does not know, very likely, there is such an +individual in existence. I am not even a name to her. Hence, there is a +tremendous amount of leeway to make up." + +"Still, you have many things in your favour," William answered, a little +plaintively. "First of all, you are young"--and William sighed +unconsciously--"then you are well-to-do; and then--and then--you are +good-looking"--and William sighed again--"and then your house is ready, +and you have no encumbrances. Yes, you have many things in your favour." + +"I'm glad you think so," Sam said cheerfully, "for, to tell you the +truth, I'm awfully afraid she won't look at me." + +William sighed again, for his fear was in the other direction. And yet +he felt he ought not to be selfish. To play the part of the dog in the +manger was a very unworthy thing to do. He had no hope of winning Ruth +for himself. That Sam Tremail loved her a hundredth part as much as he +did, he did not believe possible. How could he? But then, on the other +hand, Sam was just the sort of fellow to take a girl's fancy. + +"I can't go over with you this evening," William said at length. "They +are early people, and I know Ralph is very much worried just now over +business matters." + +"Oh, there's no hurry for a day or two," Sam said cheerfully. "The great +thing is, you'll take me along some evening?" + +"Why, yes," William answered, slowly and painfully. "I couldn't do less +than that very well." + +"And I don't ask you to do more," Sam replied, with a laugh. "I must do +the rest myself." + +William did not sleep very much that night. For some reason, the thought +of Ruth Penlogan getting married had scarcely crossed his mind. There +seemed to him nobody in St. Goram or St. Ivel that was worthy of her. +Hence the appearance of Sam Tremail on the scene intent on marrying her +was like the falling of an avalanche burying his hope and his desire. + +"I suppose it was bound to come some time," he sighed to himself; "and +I'd rather she married Sam than some folks I know. But--but it's very +hard all the same." + +A week later Sam rode over to St. Goram again. But Ralph was in London, +and William refused to take him to the Penlogans' cottage during Ralph's +absence. + +On the day of Ralph's return, Sam came a third time. + +"Yes, I'll take you this evening," William said. "I want to see Ralph +myself. I've great faith in Ralph's judgment." And William sighed. + +"Is something troubling you?" Sam asked, with a sudden touch of +apprehension. + +"I am a bit worried," William answered slowly, "and troubles never come +singly." + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" + +"No, I don't think so," William answered. "But get on your hat; it's a +goodish walk." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +A QUESTION OF MOTIVES + + +William introduced his cousin with an air of easy indifference, +apologised for calling at so late an hour, but excused himself on the +ground that he wanted to see Ralph particularly on a little matter of +business. Sam was welcomed graciously and heartily, for William's sake. +William had been almost the best friend they had ever known. In the +darkest days of their life he had come to them almost a stranger, had +revealed the kindness of his heart in numberless little ways, had kept +himself in the background with a delicacy and sensitiveness worthy of +all praise, and had never once presumed on the kindness he had shown +them. + +For a moment or two William saw only Ruth, and he thought she had never +looked more charming and winsome. The warmth of her welcome he +attributed entirely to a sense of gratitude on her part, and he was very +grateful that she counted him worthy to be her friend. When he saw his +cousin glance at her with admiring eyes, a pang of jealousy shot through +him such as he had never experienced before. He had scarcely troubled +till now that his youth had slipped away from him; but when he looked at +Sam's smooth, handsome face; his wealth of hair, untouched by Time; his +tall, vigorous frame--he could not help wishing that he were ten years +younger, and not a shopkeeper. + +Sam and Ruth quickly got into conversation, and then Ralph led William +into a little parlour which he used as an office. + +"I haven't the remotest idea what I am going to do," Ralph said, in +answer to a question from William, "though I know well enough what I +would do if I only had money." + +"Yes?" William questioned, raising his eyes slowly. + +"I'd buy the freehold of Hillside Farm." + +"It isn't for sale, is it?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise. + +"It is." And Ralph informed him how he came by the information. + +For several minutes there was silence in the room, then William said, as +if speaking to himself-- + +"But the place isn't worth the money." + +"To a stranger--no; but to me it might be cheap at the price." + +"Are you so good at farming?" + +Ralph laughed. + +"Well, no," he answered. "I'm afraid farming is not exactly my forte; +but let us drop the subject. As I told Sir John Liskeard, I might as +well think of buying the moon." + +"But you are fond of the old place?" William questioned. + +"In a sense, yes; but I do not look at it with such longing eyes as Ruth +does." + +"She would like to live there again?" William questioned eagerly. + +"She would dance for joy at the most distant hope of it." + +"Then it is for your sister's sake you would like to turn farmer?" +William questioned, after a pause. + +"I have no wish to turn farmer at all," Ralph answered. "No, no, my +dreams and ambitions don't lie in that direction; but why talk about +impossibilities? You came across to discuss some other matter?" + +"Yes, that is true," William said absently; and then a ripple of +laughter from the adjoining room touched his heart with a curious sense +of pain. + +"They are on friendly terms already," he said to himself. "And in a +little while he will make love to her, and what will Hillside Farm be to +her then? I would do anything for her sake--anything." And he sighed +unconsciously. + +Ralph heard the sigh, and looked at him searchingly. + +"I'm in an awful hole myself," William blurted out, after a long pause. + +"In an awful hole?" Ralph questioned, with raised eyebrows. + +"It's always the unexpected that happens, they say," William went on, +"but I confess I never expected to be flung on my beam-ends as I have +been. If it were not for mother, I'd sell up and clear out of the +country." + +"Why, what is the matter?" Ralph questioned in alarm. + +"You know the part I took in the County Council election?" + +"Very well." + +"Of course, I knew that Lord St. Goram didn't quite like it. He expects +every tenant and lease-holder to vote just as he wishes them. Poor +people are not supposed to have any rights or opinions, but I thought +the day had gone by when a man was to be punished for thinking for +himself." + +"But what has happened?" Ralph asked eagerly. + +"I'm to be turned out of my shop." + +"No!" + +"It's the solemn truth. I had a seven years' lease, which expires next +March, and Lord St. Goram refuses to renew it." + +"For what reason?" + +"He gives no reason at all. But it is easy to guess. I opposed him at +the election, you know. I had a perfect right to do it, but rights go +for nothing. Now he is taking his revenge. I've not only to clear out in +March, but I've to restore the premises to the exact condition they were +in when I took them." + +"But you've improved the place in every way." + +"No doubt I have, but I did it at my own risk, and at my own expense. He +never gave his formal consent to my taking out the side of the house and +putting in that big window. His steward assured me it was all right, +though he hinted that in case I left his lordship might feel under no +obligation to grant compensation." + +"But why should he want you to restore the house to its original +condition?" + +"Just to be revenged, that's all. To show his power over me and to give +his tenants an object-lesson as to what will happen if they are unwise +enough to think for themselves." + +"It's tyranny," Ralph said indignantly. "It's a piece of mean, +contemptible tyranny." + +"You can call it by any name you like," William answered sadly, "and +there's no name too bad for it; but the point to be recollected is, I've +got to submit." + +"There's no redress for you?" + +"Not a bit. I've consulted Doubleday, who's the best lawyer about here, +and he says it would be sheer madness to contest it." + +"Then what will you do?" + +"I've not the remotest idea. There's no other place in St. Goram I can +get. His lordship professes that he would far rather have twenty small +shops and twenty small shopkeepers all living from hand to mouth than +one prosperous tradesman selling the best and the freshest and at the +lowest possible price." + +"Well, I can sympathise with him in that," Ralph answered, with a smile. + +"And yet you are no more fond of buying stale things than other people." + +"That may be true. And yet the way the big concerns are crushing out the +small men is not a pleasant spectacle." + +"But no shopkeeper compels people to buy his goods," William said, with +a troubled expression in his eyes. "And when they come to his shop, is +he to say he won't supply them? And when his business shows signs of +expansion, is he to say it shall not expand?" + +"No, no. I don't mean that at all. I like to see an honest business man +prospering. And a man who attends to his business and his customers +deserves to prosper. But I confess I don't like to see these huge +combines and trusts deliberately pushing out the smaller men--not by +fair competition, mind you, but by unfair--selling things below cost +price until their competitors are in the bankruptcy court, and then +reaping a big harvest." + +"I like that as little as you do," William said mildly. "Every honest, +industrious man ought to have a chance of life, but the chances appear +to be becoming fewer every day." And he sighed again. + +For several minutes neither of them spoke, then William said-- + +"I thought I would like to tell you all about it at the earliest +opportunity. I knew I should have your sympathy." + +"I wish I could help you," Ralph answered. "You helped me when I hadn't +a friend in the world." + +"I have your sympathy," William answered, "and that's a great thing; for +the rest we must trust in God." And he rose to his feet and looked +towards the door. + +William and Sam did not say much on their way back to St. Goram. They +talked more freely when they got into the house. + +"It's awfully good of you to introduce me," Sam said, when Mrs. Menire +had retired to her room. "I'm more in love with her than ever." + +William's heart gave a painful thump, but he answered mildly enough-- + +"You seemed to get on very well together." + +"She was delightfully friendly, but I owe that all to you. She said that +any friend of yours was welcome at their house." + +"It was very kind of her," William answered slowly. "Did she give you +permission to call again?" + +"I'm not exactly sure. She did say that any time you brought me along I +should be welcome, or words to that effect. So we must arrange another +little excursion soon." + +"Must we?" + +"We must; and what is more, you might, you know, in the meanwhile--that +is, if you can honestly do so--that is--you know what I mean, don't +you?" + +"I don't think I do," William answered, in a tone of mild surprise. + +"It's asking a lot, I know," Sam replied, fidgeting uneasily in his +chair. "But if you could--that--that is--without compromising yourself +in any way, speak a good word for me, it would go miles and miles." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I'm sure of it. She thinks the world of you, and a word from you would +be worth a week's pleading on my part." + +"I'm not so sure of that," William answered. "I think all love affairs +are best managed by those concerned. The meddling of outsiders generally +does more harm than good." + +"But there are exceptions to every rule," Sam persisted. "You see, I am +awfully handicapped by being so much of a stranger. If I can once get a +footing as a friend, the rest will be easy." + +William smiled wistfully. + +"I wouldn't be precipitate, if I were you," he said. "And in the +meanwhile I'll do my best." + +Sam slept soundly till morning, but William lay awake most of the night. +When he did sleep it was to dream that he was young and prosperous, and +that Ruth Penlogan had promised to be his wife. + +After an early breakfast, he saw his cousin mount his horse and ride +away toward Pentudy, and very soon after William climbed into his trap +and went out to get orders. + +One of his first places of call was Hillside Farm, and as he drove +slowly up to the house he looked at it with a new interest. All sorts of +vague fancies seemed to float about in his mind. He saw Ruth back there +again, looking happier than any queen; he saw himself with some kind of +proprietary interest in the place; he saw Ralph looking in when the +fancy pleased him; he saw a number of new combinations and +relationships, but so vaguely that he could not fit them into their +places. + +He found Farmer Jenkins in a very doleful mood. + +"I wish I had never seen the place," he declared. "I've lost money ever +since I came, and I'm going to clear out at the earliest opportunity." + +"Do you really mean it?" William questioned. + +"I was never more serious in my life. I sent a letter to the squire a +week ago, and told him unless he lowered the rent thirty per cent. I +should fling up the farm." + +"And has he consented to lower it?" + +"Not he. He says he'll call soon and talk the matter over with me, and +that in the meantime I'd better keep quiet; but I shan't keep quiet, and +I shan't stay." + +As William drove away from Hillside an idea, or a suggestion, shot +through his brain that made him gasp. Before he got to the village of +Veryan he was trembling on his seat. It seemed almost like a suggestion +from the Evil One, so subtle was the temptation. He had tried all his +life to do the thing that was right. He had never, as far as he knew, +taken an unfair advantage of anyone. He had aimed strictly to do what +was just and honourable between man and man. But if he bought Hillside +Farm, would it be fair dealing? Would it be fair to his Cousin Sam? +Would it be fair to Ruth? + +William tried to face the problem honestly. He would rather Ruth passed +out of his life altogether than do anything mean or unworthy. To keep +his conscience clean, and his love free from the taint of selfishness, +seemed to him the supreme end of life. But if he bought Hillside Farm, +what motive would lie at the back of it? Would it be that he wanted the +farm, that he wanted to turn farmer? or would it be the hope that Ruth, +with her passionate love of the place, would be willing even to accept +the protection of his arms? + +"All's fair in love and war," something seemed to whisper in his ear. + +But William drew himself up squarely, and a resolute look came into his +eyes. + +"No," he said to himself, "that is false philosophy. Nothing that is +mean or selfish or underhand can be fair or right. If the motive is +wrong, the transaction will be wrong." + +It took William a much longer time than usual to make his rounds that +morning. He was so absent-minded--or, more correctly, his mind was so +engrossed with other things--that he allowed his horse on several +occasions to nibble the grass by the roadside. + +He was no more interested in business matters when he got back. He would +pause in the middle of weighing a pound of sugar or starch, completely +forgetting where he was or what he was doing. + +His mother let him be. She knew that he was greatly troubled at Lord St. +Goram's refusal to renew the lease of his shop, and, like a wise woman, +did not worry him with needless questions. + +That evening, when the shutters were put up, he went to St. Ivel again. +He would have some further talk with Ralph about the farm. He would be +able also to feast his eyes again on Ruth's sweet face; perhaps, also, +if he had strength and courage enough, he might be able to speak a good +word for his Cousin Sam. + +His thoughts, however, were in such a tangle, and his motives so +uncertain, that he walked very slowly, and did not see a single thing on +the road. Before he reached the cottage he stopped short, and, taking an +order-book and a pencil from his pocket, he dotted down in a series of +propositions and questions the chief points of the problem. They ran in +this order:-- + +1. I have as much right to love Ruth Penlogan as anyone else. + +2. Though I'm only a shopkeeper, and a dozen years her senior, there's +nothing to hinder me from taking my chance. + +3. If buying Hillside would help me, and make Ruth happy, where's the +wrong? Cannot say. + +4. But if buying Hillside would spoil Sam's chance, is that right? +Doubtful. + +5. Am I called upon to help Sam's cause to the detriment of my own? Also +doubtful. + +6. Is Ruth likely to be influenced by anything I may do or say? Don't +know enough about women to answer that question. + +7. Have I the smallest chance? No. + +8. Has Sam? Most decidedly. + +9. Am I a fool for thinking about Ruth at all? Certainly. + +At this point William thrust his order-book into his pocket and +quickened his pace. + +"It's not a bit of use speculating on possibilities or probabilities," +he said to himself a little impatiently. "I'll have to do the thing that +seems right and wise. The rest I must leave." + +A minute or two later he was knocking at the cottage door. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +SELF AND ANOTHER + + +Ralph had gone to Perranpool to see Robert Telfer, but Ruth expected him +back every moment. + +"Won't you come in and wait for him?" Ruth questioned, looking beyond +him into the gathering twilight. + +William hesitated for a moment, and then decided that he would. + +"I am sure he will not be long," Ruth said, as she busied herself +getting the lamp ready. "Mr. Telfer wanted to settle with him, as--as he +can, of course, deliver no more concrete." + +"It's an awful shame," William said abruptly, and he dropped into +Ralph's easy-chair. + +"It seems very hard," Ruth said reflectively; "but I tell Ralph it may +be all for the best. Perhaps he was getting on too fast and too +suddenly." + +"He is not the sort to have his head turned by a bit of prosperity," +William said, watching his fair hostess out of the corner of his eye. + +"At any rate, the danger has been removed--if it was a danger." And Ruth +sighed gently. + +For several moments there was silence in the room. Ruth had the lamp to +light and the blind to pull down and a fresh cover to lay on the table. +William watched her with averted face and half-closed eyes. How womanly +she was in all her movements; how dainty in her appearance; how gentle +in her manner and speech! + +William felt as if he would almost risk his hope of heaven for the +chance of calling her his, and yet he had not the courage even to hint +at what he felt. Her very daintiness and winsomeness seemed to widen the +gulf between them. Who was he that he should dare make love to one who +was fit for the best in the land? It seemed to him--so unworthy did he +seem in his own eyes--utterly impossible that Ruth should ever care for +a man of his type. + +William was almost morbidly self-depreciatory when in the presence of +Ruth. His love so glorified her that by contrast he was commoner than +commonest clay. + +"I was so sorry to hear you are to be turned out of your shop," Ruth +said at length, taking a seat on the other side of the table. + +"Ralph told you?" he questioned. + +"We stayed up till quite late last night, talking about it," she +replied. "Ralph is very indignant." + +"I am very indignant myself," he answered; "but what's the good? Those +who have the power use it as they like." + +"I am sorry it has happened," she said gently; "sorry for all our sakes. +Ralph's reverence for the ruling classes was not great before. It is +less now." + +"You cannot wonder at that," he said quickly. + +"No, one cannot wonder. And yet there is a danger in judging the whole +by a few. Besides, if we had real power, we might not use it any more +wisely or justly. The best of people, after all, are only human." + +"That being so," he answered, with a smile, "it does not seem right that +any individual, or any class of individuals, should have so much power. +Who made these people rulers and dividers over us?" + +"Ah, now you are getting beyond me," she said; "but since things are as +they are, should we not make the best of them?" + +"And try to mend them at the same time?" + +"Oh yes, by all means--that is, if we can." + +"But you have not much hope of mending things?" he questioned. + +"Not very much. Besides, if you levelled things up to-morrow, they would +be levelled down again the day after." + +"Isn't that a rather fatalistic way of looking at things?" he +questioned, raising his eyes timidly to her face. + +"Is it?" she questioned, and a soft blush swept over her face as she +caught his glance. Then silence fell again for several moments. + +"The chances of life are very bewildering," he said at length, reopening +the conversation. "Some people seem to get all the luck, and others all +the misfortune. Look at my Cousin Sam." + +"Is he very unfortunate?" + +William laughed. + +"On the contrary, he has all the luck. He has never known what poverty +means, or sickness, or hardship. He was born to affluence, and now, at +twenty-six, he's his own master, with a house of his own and plenty of +money." + +"But he may not be a whit happier than those who have less." + +"I don't see how he can help it," William answered. "He's never worried +about ways and means. He has troops of friends, absolutely wants nothing +except a wife to help him to spend his money." + +"Then you should advise him to keep single," Ruth said, with a laugh, +"for if he gets married, his troubles may begin." + +"There's risk in everything, no doubt," William said meditatively. +"Still, if I were in his place, I should take the risk." + +"You would?" Ruth questioned, arching her eyebrows, "and you a +bachelor?" + +"Ah, that is my misfortune," William answered, looking hard at a picture +on the wall. "But Sam's way is quite clear." + +"Is it?" + +"He's a good fellow, too, is Sam. Never a word of slander has been +breathed against his name since he was born. He'll make a good husband, +whoever gets him." + +"I did not know you had such a cousin till last evening," Ruth said +meaningly. + +"Oh, well, no. We've never seen very much of each other. You see, the +Tremails have always been rather big people, and then we have lived a +long way apart, and I have never cared to presume on my relationship." + +"So he has hunted you up?" + +"Well, yes. He came to see me just a fortnight ago or so, and he has +ridden over once or twice since. Don't you think he's a fine, handsome +fellow?" + +"Yes; he is not bad-looking." + +"Oh, I call him handsome. It must be nice to be young and have so much +strength and energy." + +"Well, are you not young?" + +"I'm ten years older than Sam," he said, a little sadly, "and ten years +is a big slice out of one's life." + +"Are you growing pessimistic?" she questioned. "You are usually so +hopeful." + +"There are some things too good to hope for," he replied, "too +beautiful, too far away. I almost envy a man like my Cousin Sam. He has +everything within his reach." + +"You seem to be quite enthusiastic about your cousin," she said, with a +smile. + +"Am I? Oh, well, you know, he is my cousin, and a good fellow, and if I +can speak a good--I mean, if I can appreciate--that is, if I can +cultivate a right feeling toward him, and--and--all that, you know, +don't you think I ought to do so?" + +"Oh, no doubt," Ruth said, laughing. "It's generally well to be on good +terms with one's relations--at least so I've been told," and she went to +the door and looked out into the darkness. + +Ruth came back again after a few moments, and turned the lamp a little +higher. + +"Ralph is much longer than I expected he would be," she remarked, +without looking at William. + +"Perhaps Mr. Telfer was out," he suggested. + +"I don't think that. You see he went by appointment. I expect it has +taken them longer to square their accounts than they thought." + +"I hope Ralph will come well out of it," he said musingly. "He's had a +rough time of it so far." + +"I am sometimes afraid he will grow bitter and give up. He has talked +again and again of trying his fortune abroad." + +"But if he went abroad, what would become of you?" William asked, with a +sudden touch of anxiety in his voice. + +"He would send for me when he got settled." + +William gave a little gasp. + +"Would you like to go abroad?" he questioned. + +"I would much prefer to stay here if I could; but you see we cannot +always have what we would like best." + +"No, that is true," he said slowly and meditatively. "The things we +would like best are often not for us. I don't know why it should be so. +Some people seem to get all they desire. There is my Cousin Sam, for +instance." + +"He is one of the lucky ones, you say?" + +"It seems so from my point of view. Did he tell you when he first saw +you?" + +"No." + +"He would not like to remind you. It was the day of the sale at +Hillside. He was greatly--that is, of course he could not help noticing +you. Since then he has seen you lots of times. A fortunate fellow is +Sam." + +"Perhaps he does not think so." + +"Oh, I fancy he does. I don't see how he can help it. He lives in a +beautiful old house. It's years since I saw it, but it remains in my +memory a pleasant picture. His wife will have a rare time of it." + +"How do you know he does not intend to follow your example and remain a +bachelor?" + +"How? Sam knows better than that. Do you think I would remain a bachelor +if--if--but there! You remember what you said just now about the things +we want most?" + +"I did not know----" Then a step sounded on the gravel outside. "Oh, +here comes Ralph." And Ruth sprang to her feet and rushed to the door. + +A moment later the two men were shaking hands. + +"I hope I have not kept you waiting long," Ralph said. "The truth is, +Telfer and I have been settling up." + +"So your sister told me." + +"And I'm bound to say he's treated me most handsomely. Technically, he +might have got the better of me on a dozen points; but no! he's been +most fair. It's a real pleasure to come across a man who doesn't want to +Jew you." + +"Oh, bless you, there's lots of honest people in the world!" William +said, with a smile. + +"Yes, I suppose there are; the misfortune is one so often tumbles across +the other sort." + +"Perhaps you will have better luck in the future," William replied. + +"I only want fair play," Ralph answered; "I ask for nothing more than +that." + +"And have you hit upon anything for the future?" + +"Not yet. But I don't want to be in a hurry. I've ready money enough to +last me a year or two. I really didn't think I had done so well, for I'm +a duffer at figures. If I only had about four times as much I'd buy +Hillside." + +"And turn farmer?" + +"No, farming is not my forte." And he turned and looked towards the door +of the pantry behind which Ruth was engaged getting supper ready. + +"Let's go into my room," he continued, in a half-whisper. "I've +something I want to say to you." + +William followed him without a word. + +"I don't want to awaken any vain hopes in Ruth's mind," Ralph went on. +"The thing is too remote to be talked about almost. But you have +wondered why I should want Hillside Farm when I've no love for farming?" + +"I have supposed it was for your sister's sake." + +"No, it's not that exactly. It's my love of adventure, or you might call +it my love of speculation." + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Of course you don't. So I'll explain. You are the best friend I ever +had, and I can trust you. Besides, if I ever did anything I should want +your help. You are a business man, I'm a dreamer. You are good at +accounts, I'm a fool at them." + +William's eyes opened wider and wider, but he did not interrupt. + +"Now, there's just the possibility of a fortune in Hillside," Ralph went +on. "Not on the surface, mind you. The crops raised there will never be +a fortune for anybody; but my father believed there was a rich tin lode +running through it." + +"Why didn't he test it?" + +"He had no opportunity." + +"Why not? The farm was his as long as the 'lives' remained alive." + +"But all the mineral rights were reserved by the ground landlord. So +that if my father had discovered a gold mine he would have got nothing +out of it." + +"So he kept silent?" + +"Naturally; for if a mine was started, not only would he get no good out +of it, but his farm would be ruined." + +William remained silent and thoughtful. + +"Now, if I could get the freehold," Ralph went on, "I should be free +from every interference. I could sink a shaft for a few fathoms and test +the thing. If it proved to be worthless, very little harm would be done. +I should still have the farm to work or to let. Do you see my point?" + +"I do, but----" + +"I know what you would say. I have not the money," Ralph interrupted. +"That is quite true. But I've more than I thought I had. And if the +Brick, Tile, and Clay Company will take my plant at a fair valuation, I +shall have more. Now I want to ask you, as a business man, if you think +I could get a mortgage for the rest?" + +"Possibly you might," William said slowly, "but there are a good many +objections to such a course." + +"Well, what are they?" + +"We'll take one thing at a time," William answered meditatively. "To +begin with: I don't believe Sir John Hamblyn would sell the place to you +under any circumstances if he knew." + +"Why not?" + +"Because he has wronged you, and so he hates you. Nothing would please +him better than for you to leave the country." + +"Well?" + +"If you begin to look round for a mortgage, or for securities----" + +"Yes, I see." + +"If you are to get the place, your name must not be given at the outset; +you must buy through an agent or solicitor. You must be ready with the +money on the nail." + +Ralph looked thoughtful for several moments. + +"I'm afraid it's of no use hoping," he said at length; "though when +Robert Telfer handed me over his cheque this evening the world did look +bright for a moment." + +"But if you bought the farm you might lose everything," William +suggested; "and it would be a pity to throw away your first earnings." + +"Why so? There's no good in hoarding money. I want to be doing +something. Besides, I might find work for half the parish." + +"Then you have faith in the tin lode of which your father spoke?" + +"I am confident there is a lode there. My father was not likely to be +mistaken in a matter of that kind. As a practical miner and mineralogist +there was not his equal in the county." + +"But he did not test the lode?" + +"He had no chance." + +"Hence, it may be worthless." + +"I admit it. Mind you, my father was confident that it was rich in tin. +Of course, he may have been mistaken." + +"But you are prepared to risk your all on it?" + +"I am. I wish I had ten times as much to risk." + +The next moment Ruth appeared, with the announcement that supper was +ready. + +"Let me sleep over it," William whispered to Ralph; "and to-morrow +morning you come up to my shop and we'll see what we can make of it." + +And he turned and followed Ruth into the next room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A PARTNERSHIP + + +It was late when William left Ralph Penlogan's cottage, but he was in no +hurry to get to St. Goram. He sauntered slowly along the dark and +deserted lane with his hands in his pockets and his eyes nowhere in +particular. He tried to comfort himself with the reflection that he had +not been selfish--that he had done his best for his Cousin Sam, that he +had spoken the good word that he promised. + +But for some reason the reward of virtue was not so great as he had +hoped. There was no feeling of exultation in his heart at his triumph +over temptation; in truth, he was much more inclined to call himself a +fool for lending aid to his cousin at all. + +This reflection reacted on his spirits in another way. He was more +selfish than he could have believed. He was like the man who gave half a +crown at a collection, and regretted it all his life afterwards. He had +forced himself to speak a good word for his cousin, but there was no +virtue in it. Service rendered so grudgingly was deserving of no reward. + +"I am like the dog in the manger," he said to himself, a little +disconsolately; "I cannot have her myself, and I don't want anybody else +to have her." + +Then he fell to thinking of Ruth's many attractions. He had never seen +anyone before with such a wealth of hair, and he was sure there was no +one in the three parishes who arranged her hair so gloriously as Ruth +did. And then her figure was just perfection in his eyes. She was +neither too short nor too tall, too stout nor too thin. There was not a +single line or curve that he would have altered. + +And her character was as perfect as her form and as beautiful as her +face. William's love shed over her and around her a golden haze which +hid every fault and magnified every virtue. + +By morning he was able to see things a little more in their true +perspective, and when Ralph called he was able to put love aside and +talk business, though he was by no means sure that in business matters +Ruth did not influence him unconsciously. + +Ralph had great faith in William's judgment and sagacity. He always +looked at both sides of a question before deciding. If he erred at all, +it was on the side of excessive caution. + +Ralph could not help wondering what was in William's mind. He had said +practically nothing the previous evening. He had asked a few questions, +and pointed out certain difficulties, but he had committed himself to +nothing, yet it seemed clear that he had some scheme in his mind which +he would reveal when he had duly considered it. + +For a few minutes they talked generalities, then William plunged into +the subject that was uppermost in the thoughts of both. + +"I don't wonder that you want to get hold of the freehold of Hillside," +he said. "I should if I were in your place. Apart from sentiment, the +business side appeals strongly. The discovery of a good tin lode there +would be the making of St. Goram----" + +"And the ruin of the farm," Ralph interjected. + +"Well, the erection of a big engine-house on the top of the hill and +fire stamps in Dingley Bottom would certainly not improve the appearance +of things from an artistic point of view." + +"'There is no gain except by loss,'" Ralph quoted, with a smile. + +"True; but we all ought to consider the greatest good of the greatest +number." + +Ralph laughed. + +"Don't credit me with virtues I don't possess," he said. "I confess I'm +thinking in the first instance only of myself." + +"Well, I suppose that's only natural," William said seriously. "But now +to business. If you purchase the farm at the squire's price, how much +money will you require beyond what you have?" + +Ralph named the sum. + +"Is that all?" + +"Yes. I told you last night the concrete had turned out well." + +"It can be done easily," William said, with a sudden brightening of his +face. + +"How?"--with an eager look. + +"I will advance you all the money you want, either as a loan or on +mortgage." + +"You really mean it?" + +"I do. But on one condition--and that is that you do not say anything to +your sister about it." + +"But why not? I have no secrets from Ruth." + +William coloured and looked uncomfortable. + +"It's merely a whim of mine," he said. "Women don't understand business, +and she might think I was doing you a great favour, and I don't want her +to think anything of the kind." + +"But you are doing me an immense favour!" + +"I'm not, really. The margin of security will be, if not ample, at least +sufficient; and if the lode should prove of value, why, you will be able +to pay off the loan in no time." + +"If the lode should prove of any value, William, you shall go shares!" +Ralph said impulsively. + +"No, no! If I take no risk, I take no reward. You will risk everything +in testing the thing." + +"I'm fond of risks," Ralph said, with a laugh. "A little adventure is +the very spice of life. Oh, I do hope the farm is not already sold!" + +"I don't think it can be," William answered. "We have wasted no time +yet. If it is sold, you will have to wait, and hope the buyer will get +tired of his bargain." + +Ralph shook his head. + +"If I can't get it now," he said, "I shall try my fortune beyond the +seas." + +"Well, we needn't wait an hour longer. You can have my trap to drive to +St. Hilary. Let some lawyer whom you can trust act for you." + +"Won't you go with me?" Ralph questioned eagerly. "You see, the question +of security will come up first thing." + +"It would be almost better if you could keep out of sight altogether." + +"I know it. Couldn't you see the whole thing through for me?" + +"I might try." + +Half an hour later Ralph had sent word to Ruth that he would not be home +till evening, and was driving away with William Menire in the direction +of St. Hilary. + +They were both too excited to talk much. Ralph felt as though the whole +universe were trembling in the balance. If he failed, there would be +nothing left worth considering. If he succeeded, paradise threw open her +gates to him. + +Far away beyond the hills there was a great city called London, and in +that city dwelt one who was more to him than all the world beside. She +was out of his reach because he was poor and nameless and obscure. But +if he won for himself a position, what was to hinder him from wooing +her, and perhaps winning her? Money for its own sake he cared nothing +for. The passion for position had never been a factor in his life. He +loved beautiful things--art and music and literature--partly from +instinct, and partly because he had been educated to appreciate them, +but there was not an ounce of snobbery in his composition. He had no +reverence for rank as such, or for mere social position, but he had +sense enough to recognise their existence, and the part they played in +the evolution of the race. He could not get rid of things by shutting +his eyes to their existence. + +So they drove along the quiet road mainly in silence. Each was busy with +his own thoughts. Each had a secret that he dared not reveal to the +other. + +"I believe you will win," William said abruptly after a long interval of +silence. "I always said you would." + +"Win?" Ralph questioned absently, for he was thinking of Dorothy Hamblyn +at the time. + +"Your father was a shrewd man where mineral was concerned." + +"Yes. And yet he loved corn and cows far more than copper and tin." + +"I wouldn't mind being in your place." + +"You would not be afraid of the risk?" + +"No. I would like it." + +"Then let's go shares!" Ralph said eagerly. "It's what I've wanted all +along, but did not like to propose it." + +"You really mean it?" + +"My dear fellow, it is what I would desire above everything else! You +have business capacity, and I haven't a scrap." + +"If I were sure I could help you." + +"We should help each other; but the gain would be chiefly mine." + +"Partnerships don't always turn out well," William said reflectively. + +"I'll gladly risk it," Ralph answered, with a laugh. + +William dropped his driving whip into the socket and reached across his +hand. It was his way of sealing the contract. + +Ralph seized it in a moment. + +"This is the proudest day of my life!" William said. And there were +distinct traces of emotion in his voice. + +"I hope you will not be sorry later on," Ralph answered dubiously. + +"Never!" was the firm reply. And he thought of Ruth, and wondered what +the future had in store for him. + +For the rest of the way they drove in silence. There were things in the +lives of both too sacred to be talked about. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +FOOD FOR REFLECTION + + +There was widespread interest of a mild kind when it became known in St. +Goram that Sir John Hamblyn had disposed of the freehold of Hillside +Farm. It was an action altogether unprecedented in the history of the +Hamblyn family. What it portended no one knew, but it seemed to +crystallise into a concrete fact all the rumours that had been in +circulation for the last two or three years. + +The first news reached Farmer Jenkins in a letter from Sir John. It was +brief and to the point:-- + + "I have this day sold the freehold of Hillside Farm. Your new + landlord will no doubt communicate with you shortly.--Yours + truly, + + "JOHN HAMBLYN." + +Farmer Jenkins stared at the letter for a considerable time after he had +mastered its contents. + +"So-ho!" he said to himself at length. "Now I understand why he wanted +the matter of reduction of rent to stand over. 'Cute dog is Sir John. If +he's sold the place on the basis of present rental he's swindled +somebody. I wonder who the fool is who bought it. Anyhow, I won't stay +here after Lady Day." And he pushed the letter into his pocket, pulled a +weather-beaten wideawake hat over his bald pate, and started out in the +direction of St. Goram. + +William Menire was standing behind his desk when Jenkins stumbled into +his shop. He laid down his pen at once, and prepared himself to execute +the farmer's order. + +It was not a large order by any means--something that had been forgotten +on the previous day--and when the farmer had stuffed it into one of his +big pockets he looked up suddenly and said-- + +"You ain't heard no news, I expect?" + +"What sort of news?" William questioned. + +"Oh, any sort." + +"Well, no. There doesn't seem to be much stirring at the present time." + +"More stirring than you think, perhaps," Jenkins said mysteriously. + +"That's possible, of course. Have you been hearing something?" + +"Squire's cleared out, ain't he?" + +"I hear he has practically closed the Manor for an indefinite period." + +"Purty hard up, I reckon." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"Took to sellin' his estate." + +"No!" William said, with a little gasp. + +"It's solemn truth. I got a letter from him just now sayin' he'd sold +Hillside Farm." + +"Sold it?" + +"Them's his very words. Here's the letter, if you like to read it." + +William took the letter and retired to the window. He did not want the +farmer to see his agitation. He had been waiting day after day for +nearly a month for some definite news, and here it was in black and +white. He wondered what Ralph would say when he heard. Once more his +hopes had been blown to the wind. His dream of success, not for the +first time or the second, had been dashed to the ground. + +"Seems definite enough, don't it?" questioned the farmer, coming nearer. + +"Oh yes, there can be no mistake about it," William answered, trying his +best to keep his voice steady. + +"Well, it don't make no difference to me," the farmer said +indifferently. "I've made up my mind to clear out at Lady Day. There +ain't no luck about the place. I keep feelin' as though there was a kind +of blight upon it." + +"Indeed?" + +"The way the squire shoved it on to me wasn't square to David Penlogan. +I can see it clear enough now, and I've never felt quite comfortable +since David died. I keep feelin' at times as though he was about the +place still." + +"Who--David?" + +"Ay. He was terrible fond of the place by all accounts. It was a pity +Sir John didn't let him stay on. He might have been livin' to this day +if he had." + +"Yes, that is quite true; but we must not forget that David is better +off. He was a good man, if ever there was one." + +"Anyhow, the place don't prosper under me, somehow. And if the new +landlord is willin' to lower the rent I shan't stay on. I've got my eye +on something I think'll suit me better." And, turning slowly round, the +farmer walked out of the shop. + +William stood staring at the door long after the farmer had disappeared. +He had seen the possibility of the farm falling into other hands from +the first, but had never fully realised till now how much that might +mean to him. His own future was involved just as much as Ralph's. While +there was a prospect of getting the farm he had not troubled about his +own notice to quit. Now the whole problem would have to be thought out +again. Nor was that all--nor even the most important part. He had seen, +in fancy, Ruth installed in the old home that she loved so much; seen +how Hillside had called to her more loudly and potently than all the +pleadings of Sam Tremail; seen the gulf that now lay between them +gradually close up and disappear; seen her advance to meet him till +their hands had clasped in a bond that only death could break. + +It was a foolish fancy, perhaps, but he had not been able to help it +taking possession of him from time to time, and with the passing of the +days and weeks the fancy had become more and more vivid and real. + +"It is all over now," William said to himself, as he stood staring at +the door. "Ralph will go abroad and leave her alone at home. Then will +come the choice of going away to a strange country or going to Pentudy, +and Sam, of course, will win," and William sighed, and dropped into a +chair behind his desk. + +A minute or two later the door swung open again, and Ralph Penlogan +stalked into the shop. + +William rose at once to his feet, and moved down inside the counter. + +"Well, William, any news yet?" Ralph questioned eagerly. + +William dropped his eyes slowly to the floor. + +"Yes, Ralph," he said, in a half-whisper. "We've missed it." + +"Missed it?" + +"Ay! I've been a bit afraid of it all along. You remember their lawyer +told Mr. Jewell that there were several people after it." + +"Where's Jewell's letter?" Ralph questioned, after a pause. + +"I've not heard from Jewell." + +"Then how did you get to know?" + +"Jenkins told me. He got a letter from Sir John this morning saying he +had sold it." + +"To whom?" + +"He mentioned no name--possibly he didn't know. It went to the man, I +expect, who was willing to pay most for it." + +"Perhaps Sir John got to know we were after it." + +"Possibly, though I don't think Jewell would tell him." + +"Oh, well, it doesn't matter, I suppose," Ralph said, in a hard voice. +"It's all in the day's work." + +"I feel a good deal more upset about it than I thought I should," +William said, after a long pause. + +"Yes?" Ralph questioned. + +"I fancy the spirit of adventure had got a bit into my blood," William +answered, with a gentle smile. "I felt ready to speculate all I had. I +was itching, as one may say, to be at the lode." + +"Such an adventurous spirit needed checking," Ralph said, with a laugh +that had more bitterness in it than mirth. + +"Perhaps so. Now we shall have to face the whole problem over again." + +"I shall try my fortune abroad. I made up my mind weeks ago that if this +failed I should leave the country." + +"Yes, yes. But it comes hard all the same. There ought to be as much +room for enterprise in this country as in any other." + +"Perhaps there is, but we are in the wrong corner of it." + +"No, it isn't that. It is simply that we have to deal with the wrong +people. I grow quite angry when I think how all enterprise is checked by +the hidebound fossils who happen to be in authority, and the stupid laws +they have enacted." + +Ralph laughed. + +"My dear William, you will be talking treason next," he said, and then a +customer came in and put an end to further conversation. + +Ralph went back home, and without saying anything to his sister, began +quietly to sort out his things. + +"I may as well get ready first as last," he said to himself; "and the +sooner I take my departure the better." + +He was very silent when he came down to dinner, and his eyes had an +absent look in them. + +"What have you been doing all the morning?" Ruth asked at length. + +"Sorting out my things, Ruth; that's all." + +She started, and an anxious look came into her eyes. + +"But why have you been sorting them out to-day?" she questioned. + +"Because to-morrow will be Sunday," he said, with a smile, "and you are +strongly opposed to Sunday labour." + +"But still, I don't understand?" she interrogated uneasily. + +"I would like to get off on Tuesday morning if possible." + +"Do you mean----" she began. + +"I shall have to clear out sooner or later, Ruth," he interrupted, "and +the sooner the better." + +"Then you have decided to go abroad, Ralph?" And her face became very +pale. + +"What else can I do?" he asked. "I really have not the courage to settle +down at St. Ivel Mine at fourteen shillings a week, even if I were sure +of getting work, which I am not." + +"And I don't want you to do it," she said suddenly, with a rush of tears +to her eyes. + +"In a bigger country, with fewer restrictions and barbed wire fences, I +may be able to do something," he went on. "At worst, I can but fail." + +"I hoped that something would turn up here," she said, after a long +pause. + +"So did I, Ruth; and, indeed, until this morning things looked +promising." + +"Well?" + +"Like so many other hopes, Ruth, it has gone out in darkness." + +"You have said nothing to me about it," she said at length. + +"No. I did not wish to buoy you up with hopes that might end in +nothing." + +"What was it you had in your mind, Ralph?" And she raised her soft, +beseeching eyes to his. + +"Oh, well," he said uneasily, "no harm can come of telling you now, +though I did promise William that I would say nothing to you about it." + +"Oh, indeed!" she said, in hurt tones. "What has he to do with it?" + +"Well, as a matter of fact, he had nearly everything to do with it." + +"And he had so little confidence in me that I was not to be trusted?" + +"No, sis. William Menire is not that kind of man, as you ought to know +by this time." + +"Then why was I not to be told? Does he take me for a child?" + +"Perhaps he does. You see, he is years older than either of us; but his +main concern was that you should not feel in any way under an obligation +to him." + +"I do not understand." + +"William feels very sensitive where you are concerned. The truth is, he +was going to advance most of the money for the purchase of Hillside." + +"Ralph!" + +"It is true, dear; and until this morning we hoped we should get it." + +"Well?" + +"It has been sold to somebody else." + +For a long time no other word was spoken. Ruth made a pretence of +eating, but she had no longer any appetite for her dinner. Ralph had +given her food of another kind--food for reflection. A dozen questions +that had been the vaguest suggestions before suddenly crystallised +themselves into definite form. + +When the dinner was over, Ralph put on his hat and made for the door. + +"I am going down to Perranpool," he said. "I have one or two things I +want to talk over with Robert Telfer before I go." + +"Don't forget to remember me to Mary," Ruth said, following him to the +door. + +"Anything else?" he questioned, with a smile. + +"Yes. Tell her to come up and see me as soon as ever she is able." + +"All right," and, waving his hand, he marched rapidly away. + +Ruth sighed as she followed him with her eyes. It seemed to her a +thousand pities that his native land had no place for such as he. He was +not of the common order. He had gifts, education, imagination, +enterprise, and yet he was foiled at every point. + +Then for some reason her thoughts travelled away to William Menire, and +the memory of her brother's words, "William is very sensitive where you +are concerned," brought a warm rush of colour to her cheeks. + +Why should William be so sensitive where she was concerned? Why should +he be so shy and diffident when in her presence? Why was he ever so +ready to sing the praises of his cousin? + +She was brought back to herself at length by the sound of horse's hoofs, +and a minute or two later Sam Tremail drew up and alighted at the garden +gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A PROPOSAL + + +Sam did not wait for an invitation. Flinging the reins over the gate +post, he marched boldly up the garden path, and greeted Ruth at the +door. She received him courteously, as was her nature, but a more +sensitive man might have felt that there was not much warmth in her +welcome. + +"I was riding this way, and so I thought I would call," he explained. "I +hope I don't intrude?" + +"Oh no, not at all. Will you come inside?" + +"Thank you, I shall be pleased to rest a few minutes, and so will Nero. +Is your brother at home?" + +"No, he has just gone down to Perranpool." + +"Mr. Telfer has nearly finished his contract, I hear." + +"So I am told." + +"And the company have a mountain of concrete on their hands." + +"Ralph says they are charging so enormously for it. Besides, they have +not sought out new markets." + +"Markets would open if the stuff was not so poor. They managed to hustle +your brother out of his rights without getting his secret." + +"Is that so?" + +"So I am told. I know nothing about the matter myself. I can only repeat +what people are saying. By the by, I suppose you have heard that your +old home has been sold?" + +"Yes." + +"St. Goram seems to be quite excited about it. The people in my cousin's +shop can talk of nothing else." + +"Then you have called on your cousin?" + +"Just to say 'How d'ye do?' But Saturday afternoon appears to be a busy +day with him. Seems a shame that he has to turn out, doesn't it?" + +"It is a shame." + +"Of course, in a measure, it's his own fault. He ought not to have +opposed Lord St. Goram. A man in business ought not to have any +politics, and should keep out of public affairs." + +"But suppose he agreed with Lord St. Goram?" + +"Oh, that would make a difference, of course. A man ought to know on +which side his bread is buttered." + +"And principle and conviction should not count?" + +"I don't say that. A man can have any convictions he likes, so long as +he keeps them to himself; but in politics it is safest to side with the +powers that be." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it. Take the case of my Uncle Ned." + +"I never heard of him," Ruth said innocently. + +"Oh, well, his late landlord was a Liberal, and, of course, my uncle was +a Liberal. Then his landlord became a Unionist, and Uncle Ned became a +Unionist also. Well, then his landlord died and his son took possession. +He's a Conservative and true blue, and, of course, Uncle Ned is a Tory +of the Tories. What is the result? He gets no end of privileges. +Moreover, there is no fear of his being turned out of his farm." + +"And you admire your Uncle Ned?" + +"I think he might be a little less ostentatious. But he knows on which +side his bread is buttered. Now my Cousin William goes dead against his +own landlord; there's all the difference. Result, Ned remains and +prospers; William has notice to quit." + +"I'd rather be William than your Uncle Ned." + +"You would?" + +"A thousand times. A man who places bread and butter before conscience +and conviction is a coward, and a man who changes his political creed to +please his landlord is too contemptible for words." + +Sam turned uneasily in his chair and stared. He had never imagined that +this sweet-faced girl could speak so strongly. Moreover, he began to +fear that he had unconsciously put his foot into it. He had called for +the purpose of making love to Ruth, and had come perilously near to +making her angry. + +How to get back to safer ground was a work of no small difficulty. He +could not unsay what he had said, and to attempt to trim would only +provoke her scorn. Neither could he suddenly change the subject without +considerable loss of dignity. So, after an awkward pause, he said-- + +"Everyone has a right to his or her own opinions, of course. For myself, +I should not be prepared to express myself so strongly." + +"Perhaps you do not feel strongly," she said. + +"I don't think I do," he replied, in a tone of relief; "that is, on +public questions. I am no politician, and, besides, there is always a +good deal to be said on both sides of every question. I try as far as +possible, you know, to keep an open mind," and he smiled benevolently, +and felt well pleased with himself. + +After that conversation flagged. Ruth appeared to be absent-minded, and +in no mood for further talk. Nero outside champed at his bit, and was +eager to be on the move again. Sam turned his hat round and round in his +hands, and puzzled his brain as to how he should get near the subject +that was uppermost in his mind. + +He started a number of topics--the weather, the chances of a fine day +for Summercourt Fair, the outbreak of measles at Doubleday, the price of +tin, the new travelling preacher, the Sunday-school anniversary at +Trebilskey, the large catch of pilchards at Mevagissey--but they all +came to a sudden and ignominious conclusion. + +He rose to his feet at length almost in despair, and looked towards the +door. For some reason the task he had set himself was far more difficult +than he had imagined. In his ride from Pentudy he had rehearsed his +speech to the listening hedgerows with great diligence, and with +considerable animation. He had rounded his periods till they seemed +almost perfect. He had decided on the measure of emphasis to be laid on +certain passages. But now, when he stood face to face with the girl he +coveted, the speech eluded him almost entirely, while such passages as +he could remember did not seem at all fitting to the occasion. The time +clearly was not propitious. He would have to postpone his declaration to +a more convenient season. + +"I'm afraid I must be going," he said desperately. + +"Your horse seems to be getting impatient," Ruth replied, looking out of +the window. + +"It's not the horse I care for," he blurted out; "it's you." + +"Me?" she questioned innocently. + +"Do you think anything else matters when you are about?" he asked in a +tone almost of defiance. + +"I fear I do not understand," she said, with a bewildered expression in +her eyes. + +"Oh, you must understand," he replied vehemently. "You must have seen +that I love you." + +"No, no!" + +"Don't interrupt me, please, now that I've started. Give me a +chance--oh, do give me a chance. I've loved you ever since your father's +sale. I'm sure it's love I feel for you. Whenever people talk about my +getting married, my thoughts always turn to you in a moment. I waited +and waited for a chance of speaking to you, and thought it would never +come; and now that I've got to know you a bit----" + +"But you don't know me," she interrupted. + +"Yes, I do. Besides, William has told me how good you are; and then I'm +willing to wait until I know you better, and you know me better. I don't +ask you to say Yes to-day, and please don't say No. I'm sure I could +make you happy. You should have a horse of your own to ride if you +wanted one, and I would be as good to you as ever I could, and I don't +think I'm a bad sort. Ask my Cousin William, and he'll tell you that I'm +a steady-going fellow. I know I'm not clever, nor anything of that sort; +but I would look after you really well--I would, indeed. And think of +it. You may need a friend some day. You may be left alone, as it were; +your brother may get married. There's never any knowing what may happen. +But if you would let me look after you and care for you, you wouldn't +have a worry in the world. Think of it----" + +She put up her hand deprecatingly, for when his tongue was once unloosed +his words flowed without a break. He looked very manly and handsome, +too, as he stood before her, and there was evident sincerity in his +tones. + +He broke off suddenly, and stood waiting. He felt that he had done the +thing very clumsily, but that was perhaps inevitable under the +circumstances. + +Ruth looked up and met his eyes. She was no flirt; she was deeply moved +by his confession. Moreover, when he spoke of her being alone some day +and needing protection, he touched a sympathetic chord in her heart. She +was to be left alone sooner than he knew. Already preparations had begun +for her brother's departure. + +"Please do not say any more," she said gently. "I do not doubt your +sincerity for a moment." + +"But you are not offended with me?" he gasped. + +"No, I am not offended with you. Indeed, I feel greatly honoured by your +proposal." + +"Then you will think it over?" he interrupted. "Say you will think it +over. Don't send me away without hope." + +She smiled a sweet, pathetic smile, and answered-- + +"Yes, I will think it over." + +"Thank you so much," he said, with beaming face. "That is the most I +could hope for to-day," and he held out his hand to her, which she took +shyly and diffidently. + +"If you can only bring yourself to say Yes," he said, as he stood in the +doorway, "I will do my best to make you the happiest woman in the +world." + +She did not reply, however. From behind the window curtains she watched +him mount his horse and ride away; then she dropped into an easy-chair +and stared into space. + +It is sometimes said that a woman rarely gets the man she wants--that +he, unknowing and unseeing, goes somewhere else, and she makes no sign. +Later on she accepts the second best, or it may be the third best, and +tries to be content. + +Ruth wondered if contentment was ever to be found along that path, if +the heart grew reconciled to the absence of romance, if the passion of +youth was but the red glare of sunrise which quickly faded into the +sober light of day. + +Sam Tremail was not a man to be despised. He was no wastrel, no unknown +adventurer. He was a man of character and substance. He had been a good +son; he would doubtless make a good husband. Could she be content? + +No halo of romance gathered about his name. No beautiful and tender +passion shook her heart when she thought of him. Life at Pentudy would +be sober and grey and commonplace. There would be no passion flowers, no +crimson and scarlet and gold. On the other hand, there would be no want, +no mean and niggling economies, no battle for daily bread. Was solid +comfort more lasting, and therefore more desirable, than the richly-hued +vesture of romance? + +How about the people she knew--the people who had reached middle +life--the people who were beginning to descend the western slope? Had +there been any romance in their life? Had they thrilled at the beginning +at the touch of a hand? Had their hearts leaped at the sound of a voice? +And if so, why was there no sign of it to-day? Did familiarity always +breed contempt? Did possession kill romance? Did the crimson of the +morning always fade into the grey of noon? + +Would it be better to marry without dreams and illusions, to begin with +the sober grey, the prose and commonplace, than begin with some +richly-hued dreams that would fade and disappear before the honeymoon +came to an end? To be disillusioned was always painful. And yet, would +not one swift month of rich romance, of deep-eyed, passionate love, be +worth a lifetime of grey and sober prose? + +Ruth was still thinking when Ralph returned from Perranpool. + +Meanwhile Sam was trotting homeward in a very jubilant frame of mind. He +pulled up in front of William Menire's shop and beckoned to his cousin. + +"I want you to congratulate me, old man," he said, when William stood at +his horse's head. + +William's face fell in a moment, and his lips trembled in spite of +himself. + +"Have you--you--been to--to----?" William began. + +"I've just come from there," Sam interrupted, with a laugh. "Been there +for the last hour, and now I'm off home feeling that I have done a good +day's work." + +"You have proposed to her?" + +"I have! It required a good bit of courage, but I've done it." + +"And she has accepted?" + +"She has not rejected me, at any rate. I didn't ask for a definite +answer right off. But it is all right, my boy, I'm sure it is. Now, give +us your hand. You've been a good friend to me. But for you I might never +have got to know her." + +William reached up his hand slowly and silently. + +"It's often been a wonder to me," Sam said, squeezing his kinsman's +hand, "that you never looked in that direction yourself; but I'm glad +you never did." + +"It would have been no use," William said sadly. "I'm not the kind of +man to take any girl's fancy." + +"Oh, that's all nonsense," Sam said gaily. "I admit that a great many +girls like a fellow with a lot of dash and go, and are not particular +about his past so long as he has a winning tongue and a smart exterior. +But all girls are not built that way. Why, I can fancy you being a +perfect hero in some people's eyes." + +"You must have a vivid imagination," William said, with a smile; and +then Sam put spurs to his horse and galloped away. + +William went back to his work behind his counter with a pathetic and +far-away look in his eyes. He was glad when the little group of +customers were served, and he was left alone for a few minutes. + +He had intended going to see the Penlogans that evening, but he decided +now that he would not go. While Ruth was free he had a right to look at +her and admire her, but he was not sure that that right was his any +longer. + +He wondered if Sam noticed that he did not congratulate him. He could +not get out the words somehow. + +He sat down at length with his elbow on the counter, and rested his head +on his hand. He began to realise that he had built more on the +acquisition of Hillside Farm than he knew. He had hoped in some vague +way that the farm would be a bond between him and Ruth. Well, well, it +was at an end now; the one romance of his life had vanished. His +unspoken love would remain unspoken. + +The next day being Sunday, all the characters in this story had time for +meditation. Ruth and Ralph walked to Veryan that they might worship once +more in the little chapel made sacred to them by the memory of father +and mother. Ruth had great difficulty in keeping back the tears. How +often she had sat in that bare and comfortless pew holding her father's +hand. How she missed him again. How acute and poignant was her sense of +loss. + +She never once looked at her brother. He sat erect and motionless by her +side, but she doubted if he heard the sermon. The thought of the coming +separation lay heavy upon him as it did upon her. + +On their way back Ruth plucked up her courage and told Ralph of Sam +Tremail's proposal the previous afternoon. + +Ralph stopped short for a moment, and looked at her. + +"Now I understand why you have been so absent-minded," he said at +length. "I was afraid you were fretting because I was going away." + +"If I fretted, I should try and not let you see," she answered. "You +have enough to bear already." + +"The thought of leaving you unprotected is the hardest part," he said. + +"Would it be a relief to you if I accepted Sam Tremail's offer?" she +questioned. + +"Supposing you cared for him enough, it would be," he replied. "Sam is a +good fellow by all accounts. Socially, he is much above us." + +"I have nothing against him," she answered slowly, "nothing! And I am +quite sure he meant all he said." + +"And do you care for him?" + +She shook her head slowly and smiled-- + +"I neither like him nor dislike him. But he offers me protection and a +good home." + +"To be free from worry is a great thing," he answered, looking away +across the distant landscape; and then he thought of Dorothy Hamblyn, +and wondered if love and romance were as much to a woman as to a man. + +"Yes, freedom from worry is doubtless a great thing," she said, after a +long pause, "but is it the greatest and best?" + +But she waited in vain for an answer. Ralph was thinking of something +else. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A FRESH PAGE + + +William Menire got up early on Monday morning and helped to tidy up the +shop before breakfast. He was not sorry that the working week had begun +again. Work left him very little time for brooding and introspection. He +had been twice to church the previous day, but he could not remember a +word of the sermons. His own thoughts had drowned the voice of the +preacher. + +"I hope I shall have a busy week," he said to himself, as he helped his +apprentice to take down the shutters. "The less I think the happier I +shall be." + +During breakfast the postman called. There was only one delivery per +day, and during Sunday there was no delivery at all. + +William glanced at the letters, but did not open any of them. One, in a +blue envelope, was from Mr. Jewell, the solicitor. The postmark bore +Saturday's date. + +"His news is two days late," William reflected. "We really ought to have +two deliveries in a place like this." + +Then he helped himself to some more bacon. His mother was not so well, +and had her breakfast in bed. + +No one called him from the shop, so he was allowed to finish his +breakfast in peace. Then he turned his attention to his correspondence. +The blue envelope was left to the last. + +"I wonder if Jewell knows the name of the purchaser?" he reflected, as +he inserted a small paper-knife and cut open the envelope. He unfolded +the letter slowly, then gave a sudden exclamation. + +"Dear Sir,--I am advised by post this morning that your offer for +Hillside Farm has been accepted, and----" + +But he did not stop to read any further. Rushing into the passage, he +seized his hat, and without a word to anyone, hurried away in the +direction of St. Ivel as fast as his legs could carry him. + +Ralph was standing in the middle of the room measuring with his eye the +capacity of an open portmanteau, when William, breathless and excited, +burst in upon him. Ruth was seated at the table, the portmanteau by her +side. + +[Illustration: "WILLIAM, BREATHLESS AND EXCITED, BURST IN UPON HIM."] + +"I say, Ralph, we've got it," William cried excitedly, without noticing +Ruth. + +"Got what?" Ralph said, turning suddenly round. + +"Got the farm," was the reply. "We jumped to conclusions too soon on +Saturday. Jewell says our offer has been accepted." + +"Accepted!" + +"Ay. Here is the letter, if you like to read it. Shut up your +portmanteau, and take it out of sight. You are not going abroad yet +awhile." + +Ruth, who had risen to her feet on William's sudden appearance, now ran +out of the room to hide her tears. + +Ralph seized the lawyer's letter and read it slowly and carefully from +beginning to end. Then he dropped into a chair and read it a second +time. William stood and watched him, with a bright, eager smile lighting +up his face. + +"It seems all right," Ralph said at length. + +"Ay, it's right enough, but I wish we had known earlier." + +"It would have saved us a good many anxious and painful hours." + +"Never mind. All's well that ends well." + +"Oh, we haven't got to the end yet," Ralph said, with a laugh. "If that +lode turns out a frost, we shall wish that somebody else had got the +place." + +"Never!" William said, almost vehemently. + +"No?" + +"I shall never regret we've got it, or rather that you have, though +there isn't an ounce of tin in the whole place." + +"Why not?" + +"I don't know. One cannot give a reason for everything. But I have a +feeling that this opens up a fresh page in the life of both of us." + +"That's true enough, but everything depends on the kind of page it will +be." + +"I'm not worried about that. The thing that interests me is, the powers +that be are not going to shunt us as they hoped. Lord St. Goram meant to +drive me out of the parish, but I'm not going----" + +"Nor I," Ralph interposed, with a laugh; and he shut up the portmanteau, +and pushed it against the wall. + +"We shall have to keep dark, however, till the deeds are signed," +William said. "We must give Sir John no excuse for going back on his +bargain. I'd wager my Sunday coat, if I were a betting man, that he +hasn't the remotest idea we are the purchasers." + +"Won't he look blue when he discovers? You know how he hates me." + +"Ay, he has made no secret of that. It is rumoured, however, that he is +going to live out of the country, and so he may not get to know for some +time. However, we must walk warily till the thing is finally and +absolutely settled. Also"--and William lowered his voice to a +whisper--"you'd better say nothing yet to your sister." + +"Oh, but she knows," Ralph replied. + +William looked blank. + +"I told her on Saturday what we had been trying to do. I thought she +might as well know when the thing, as we thought, had come to an end. +Besides, she heard what you said when you came in." + +"I forgot all about her for the moment," William said absently. +"Perhaps, after all, it is as well she knows. I hope, however, she will +not feel in any way obligated to me." + +"My dear fellow, what are you talking about?" Ralph said, with a smile. +"Why, we owe nearly everything to you." + +"No, no. I couldn't have done less, and so far I have received far more +than I gave. But I must be getting back, or things will have got tied +into a knot," and putting on his hat, he hurried away. + +Ruth came back into the room as soon as William had disappeared. Her +eyes were still red and her lashes wet with tears, but there was a +bright, happy smile on her lips. + +"Oh, Ralph," she said, "isn't it almost too good to be true?" + +"It may not be so good as it looks," he said, in a tone of banter. + +"Oh, it must be, Ralph; for, of course, we shall go back again to +Hillside to live." + +"But we can't live on nothing, you know, and the whole thing may turn +out a frost." + +"But you are quite sure it won't, or you and William Menire would not be +so elated at getting it." + +"Are we elated?" + +"You are. You can hardly contain yourself at this moment. You would like +to get on the top of the house and shout." + +"Which would be a very unwise thing to do. We must not breathe a word to +anyone till the thing is absolutely settled." + +"And what will you do then?" + +"Begin prospecting. If I can get as much out of the place as father sunk +in it I shall be quite content." + +During the next few weeks William Menire and the Penlogans saw a good +deal of each other. Nearly every evening after his shutters had been put +up William stole away to St. Ivel. He and Ralph had so many plans to +discuss and so many schemes to mature. Ruth was allowed to listen to all +the debates, and frequently she was asked to give advice. + +It was in some respects a very trying time for William. The more he saw +of Ruth the more he admired her. She seemed to grow bonnier every day. +The sound of her voice stirred his heart like music, her smile was like +summer sunshine. Moreover, she treated him with increasing courtesy, and +even tenderness, so much so that it became a positive pain to him to +hide his affection. And yet he wanted to be perfectly loyal to his +Cousin Sam. Sam had proposed to her, Sam was waiting for an answer, if +he had not already received it, and it would be a very uncousinly act to +put the smallest obstacle in the way. + +Not that William supposed for a moment that he could ever be a rival to +Sam in any true sense of the word. On the other hand, he knew that Ruth +was of so generous and grateful a nature that she might be tempted to +accept him out of pure gratitude if he were bold enough and base enough +to propose to her. + +So William held himself in check with a firm hand and made no sign, but +what the effort cost him no one knew. To sit in the same room with her +evening after evening, to watch the play of her features and see the +light sparkle in her soft brown eyes, and yet never by word or look +betray the passion that was consuming him, was an experience not given +to many men. + +He was too loyal to his ideals ever to dream of marriage for any cause +less than love. Possession was not everything, nor even the greatest +thing. If he could have persuaded himself that there was even the +remotest possibility of Ruth loving him, he would have gone on his knees +to her every day in the week, and would have gladly waited any time she +might name. + +But he had persuaded himself of the very opposite. He was a dozen years +her senior. While she was in the very morning of her youth, he was +rapidly nearing youth's eventide. That she could ever care for him, +except in a friendly or sisterly fashion, seemed an utter impossibility. +The thought never occurred to him but he attempted to strangle it at +once. + +So the days wore away, and lengthened into weeks, and then the news +leaked out in St. Goram that William and Ralph had gone into partnership +and had purchased Hillside Farm. For several days little else was talked +about. What could it mean? What object could they have in view? For +agricultural purposes the place was scarcely worth buying; besides, +William Menire knew absolutely nothing about farming, while most people +knew that Ralph's tastes did not lie in that direction. + +A few people blamed Ralph for "fooling William out of his money," for +they rightly surmised that it was chiefly William's money that had +purchased the estate. Others whispered maliciously that William had +befriended Ralph simply that he might win favour with Ruth; but the +majority of people said that William was much too 'cute a business man +to be influenced by anybody, whether man or woman, and that if he had +invested his money in Hillside Farm he had very good reasons for doing +it. The only sensible attitude, therefore, was to wait and see what time +would bring forth. + +One of the first things Ralph did as soon as the deeds were signed was +to send for Jim Brewer. He had heard that the young miner was out of +work, and in sore need. He had heard also that Jim had never forgiven +himself for not confessing at the outset that it was he who shot the +squire by mistake. + +Ralph had never seen the young fellow since he came out of prison, and +had never desired to see him. He had no love for cowards, and was keenly +resentful of the part Brewer had played. Time, however, had softened his +feelings. The memory of those dark and bitter months was slowly fading +from his mind. Moreover, poor Brewer had suffered enough already for the +wrong he had done. He had been boycotted and shunned by almost all who +knew him. + +Ralph heard by accident one day of the straits to which Brewer had been +driven, and his resentment was changed as if by magic into pity. It was +easy to blame, easy to fling the word "coward" into the teeth of a +weaker brother; but if he had been placed in Jim Brewer's circumstances, +would he have acted a nobler part? It was Brewer's care for his mother +and the children that led him to hide the truth. Moreover, if he had +been wholly a coward, he would never have confessed at all. + +Ralph told Ruth what he intended to do, and her eyes filled in a moment. + +"Oh, Ralph," she said, "it is the very thing of all others I should like +you to do." + +"For what reason, Ruth?" + +"For every reason that is great and noble and worthy." + +"He played a cowardly part." + +"And he has paid the penalty, Ralph. Your duty now is to be magnanimous. +Besides----" Then she hesitated. + +"Besides what?" he asked. + +"I have heard you rail at what you call the justice of the strong. You +are strong now, you will be stronger in time, and so you must see to it +that you don't fall into the same snare." + +"Wise little woman," he said affectionately, and then the subject +dropped. + +It was dark when Jim Brewer paid his visit. He came dejectedly and +shamefacedly, much wondering what was in the wind. + +Ralph opened the door for him, and took him into his little office. + +"I understand you are out of work?" he said, pointing him to a seat. + +Jim nodded. + +"You understand prospecting, I believe?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I can give you a job if you are prepared to take it, and you can +begin work to-morrow if you like." + +Brewer looked up with dim and wondering eyes, while Ralph further +explained, and then he burst into tears. + +"I don't deserve it," he sobbed at length. "I did you a mean and +cowardly trick, and I've loathed myself for it ever since." + +"Oh, well, never mind that now. It is all over and past, and we'd better +try and forget it." + +"I shall never forget it," Jim said chokingly, "but if you can forgive +me, I shall be--oh, so happy!" + +"Oh, well, then, I do forgive you, if that is any comfort to you." + +Jim hid his face in his hands and burst into fresh weeping. + +"Forgive my giving way like this," he said at length. "I ain't quite as +strong as I might be. I had influenza a month agone, and it's shook me a +goodish bit." + +"Why, bless me, you look hungry!" Ralph said, eyeing him closely. + +"Do I? I'm very sorry, but the influenza pulls one down terrible." + +"But are you hungry?" Ralph questioned. + +Jim smiled feebly. + +"Oh, I've been hungrier than this," he said; "but I'll be glad to begin +work to-morrow morning." + +"I'm not sure you're fit. But come into the next room--we are just going +to have supper." + +Jim hesitated and drew back, but Ralph insisted upon it; and yet, when a +plate of meat was placed before him, he couldn't eat. + +"Excuse me," he said, his eyes filling, "but the little ones ain't had +nothing to-day, and they can't bear it as well as me. If you wouldn't +mind me taking it home instead?" + +Ruth sprang to her feet in a moment. + +"I'll let you have plenty for the little ones," she said, with trembling +lips. "Now eat your supper, and enjoy it if you can." And she ran off +into the pantry and quickly returned with a small basket full of food, +which she placed by his side. + +"That ain't for me?" he questioned. + +"For you to take home to your mother and the children." + +He laid down his knife and fork and rose to his feet. + +"I'd like to go home at once, if you don't mind?" he said brokenly. + +"But you haven't half finished your supper." + +"I'd like to eat it with the little ones and mother, if you wouldn't +mind?" + +"By all means, if you would rather," Ruth said, smiling through unshed +tears. + +"I should feel happier," he said; and he emptied his plate into the +basket. + +Ralph went and opened the door for him, and watched him as he hurried +away into the darkness. + +He came back after a few minutes, and sat down; but neither he nor Ruth +spoke again for some time. It was Ralph who at length broke the silence. + +"He may be a long way from being a hero," he said, "but he has a lot of +goodness in him. I shall never think hardly of him any more." + +Ruth did not reply for a long time, then she said, "I am glad Brewer is +to begin prospecting for you." + +"Yes?" he questioned. + +"I can't explain myself," she answered, "but it seems a right kind of +beginning, and I think God's blessing will be upon it." + +"We will hope so, at any rate. Yes, we will hope so." + +And then silence fell again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +FAILURE OR FORTUNE + + +Farmer Jenkins was grimly contemptuous. He hated miners. "They were +always messing up things," sinking pits, covering the hillsides with +heaps of rubbish, erecting noisy and unsightly machinery, cutting +watercourses through fruitful fields, breaking down fences, and, +generally speaking, destroying the peace and quietness of a +neighbourhood. + +He told Ralph to his face that he considered he was a fool. + +"Possibly you are right, Mr. Jenkins," Ralph said, with a laugh. + +"Ay, and you'll laugh t'other side of your face afore you've done with +it." + +"You think so?" + +"It don't require no thinking over. Yer father sunk all his bit of money +in this place, in bringing it under cultivation; and now you're throwing +your bit of money after his, and other folks' to boot, in undoin' all he +did, and turning the place into a desert again." + +"But suppose the real wealth of this place is under the surface, Mr. +Jenkins?" + +"Suppose the sky falls. I tell 'ee there ain't no wealth except what +grows. However, 'tain't no business of mine. If folks like to make fools +of their selves and throw away their bit of money, that's their own +look-out." And Farmer Jenkins spat on the ground and departed. + +Jim Brewer pulled off his coat, and set to work at a point indicated by +Ralph to sink a pit. + +That was the beginning of what Ruth laughingly called "Great St. Goram +Mine," with an emphasis on the word "great." + +After watching Jim for a few minutes, Ralph pulled off his coat also, +and began to assist his employee. It did not look a very promising +commencement for a great enterprise. + +The ground was hard and stony, and Jim's strength was not what it had +been, nor what it would be providing he got proper food and plenty of +it; while Ralph could scarcely be said to be proficient in the use of +pick and shovel. + +By the end of the third day they had got through the "rubbly ground," as +Jim called it, and had struck what seemed a bed of solid rock. + +Ralph got intensely excited. He had little doubt that this was the lode, +the existence of which his father had accidentally discovered. With the +point of his pick he searched round for fissures; but the rock was very +closely knit, and he had had no experience in rock working. + +Jim Brewer, as a practical miner, showed much more skill, and when Ralph +returned to his home that evening his pockets were full of bits of rock +that had been splintered from the lode. + +"Well, Ralph, what news?" was Ruth's first question when she met him at +the door. She was as much excited over the prospecting expedition as he +was. + +"We've struck something," he said eagerly, "but whether it's father's +lode or no I'm not certain yet." + +"But how will you find out?" + +"I've got a sample in my pocket," he said, with a little laugh. "I'll +test it after supper," and he went into his little laboratory and +emptied his pockets on the bench. + +By the time he had washed, and brushed his hair, supper was ready. + +"And who've you seen to-day?" he said, as he sat down opposite his +sister. + +"Not many people," she said, blushing slightly. "Mr. Tremail called this +afternoon." + +He looked up suddenly with a questioning light in his eyes. Sam's name +had scarcely been mentioned for the last two or three weeks, and whether +Ruth had accepted him or rejected him was a matter that had ceased to +trouble him. In fact, his mind had been so full of other things that +there was no place left for the love affairs of Sam Tremail and his +sister. + +"Oh, indeed," he said slowly and hesitatingly; "then I suppose by this +time it may be regarded as a settled affair?" + +"Yes, it is quite settled," she said, and the colour deepened on her +neck and face. + +"Well, he's a good fellow--a very good fellow by all accounts," he said, +with a little sigh. "I shall be sorry to lose you. Still, I don't know +that you could have done much better." + +"Oh, but you are not going to lose me yet," she answered, with a bright +little laugh, though she did not raise her eyes to meet his. + +"Well, no. Not for a month or two, I presume. But I have noticed that +when men become engaged they get terribly impatient," and he dropped his +eyes to his plate again. + +"Yes, I have heard the same thing," she replied demurely. "But the truth +is, I have decided not to get married at all." + +"You mean----" + +"I could not accept his offer, Ralph. I think a woman must care an awful +lot for a man before she can consent to marry him." + +"And _vice versa_," he answered. "Yes, yes, I think you are quite right +in that. But how did he take it, Ruth?" + +"Not at all badly. Indeed, I think he was prepared for my answer. When +he was leaving he met Mary Telfer outside the gate, and he stood for +quite a long time laughing and talking with her." + +"I did not know he knew her." + +"He met her here a fortnight ago." + +"Did Mary know why he came here?" + +"I don't know. I never told her." + +"I am very glad on the whole you have said No to him. Mind you, he's a +good fellow, and, as things go, an excellent catch. And yet, if I had to +make choice for you, it would not be Sam Tremail. At least I would not +place him first." + +"And who would you place first?" she questioned, raising her eyes +timidly to his. + +"Ah, well, that is a secret. No, I am not going to tell you; for women, +you know, always go by the rule of contrary." + +"If you had gone abroad," Ruth said, after a long pause, "and I had been +left alone, I might have given Mr. Tremail a different answer. I don't +know. When a good home is offered to a lonely woman the temptation is +great. But when I knew that you were going to stay at home, and that +Hillside was to be ours once more, I could think of nothing else. Do you +think I would leave Hillside for Pentudy?" + +"But Hillside is not ours altogether, Ruth." + +"It is as good as ours," she answered, with a smile. "William Menire +does not want it; he told me so. He said nothing would make him happier +than to see me living there again." + +"Did he tell you that?" + +"He did." + +"That's strange. I always understood he did his best to bring about a +match between you and Sam Tremail." + +"He may have done so. I don't know. He had always a good word for his +cousin. On the whole, I think he was quite indifferent." + +"William can never be indifferent where his friends are concerned." + +"Oh, then, perhaps he will be pleased that I am going to remain to keep +house for you." + +And then the subject dropped. + +Directly supper was over, Ralph retired to his work-room and laboratory, +and began with such appliances as he had to grind the stones into +powder. It was no easy task, for the rock was hard and of exceedingly +fine texture. + +Ruth joined him when she had finished her work, and watched him with +great interest. His first test was made with the ordinary "vanning +shovel," his second with the aid of chemicals. But neither test seemed +conclusive or satisfactory. + +"There's something wrong somewhere," he said, as he put away his tools. +"I must do my next test in the daylight." + +Ruth got very anxious as the days passed away. She learned from her +brother that he had employed more men to sink further prospecting pits +along the course of the lode, but with what results she was unable to +discover. + +Ralph, for some reason, had grown strangely reticent. He spent very +little time at home, and that little was chiefly passed in his +laboratory. His face became so serious that she feared for the worst, +and refrained from asking questions lest she should add to his anxiety. + +William Menire dropped in occasionally of an evening, but she noticed +that the one topic of all others was avoided as if by mutual consent. At +last Ruth felt as if she could bear the suspense no longer. + +"Do tell me, Ralph," she said; "is the whole thing what you call a +frost?" + +"Why do you ask?" he questioned. + +"Because you are so absorbed, and look so terribly anxious." + +"I am anxious," he said, "very anxious." + +"Then, so far, the lode has proved to be worthless?" she questioned. + +"It is either worthless, or else is so rich in mineral that I hardly +like to think about it." + +"I don't understand," she said. + +"Well, it is this way. The tests we have made so far show such a large +percentage of tin that I am afraid we are mistaken." + +"How? In what way?" + +"If there had been a less quantity, I should not have doubted that it +was really tin, but there is so much of it that I'm afraid. Now do you +understand?" + +"But surely you ought to be able to find out?" + +"Oh yes; we shall find out in time. A quantity of stuff is in the hands +of expert assayers at the present time, and we are awaiting their +report. If their final test should harmonise with the others, why--well, +I will not say what." + +"And when do you expect to hear?" + +"I hope, to-morrow morning." + +"But why have you kept me in the dark all this time?" + +"Because we did not wish to make you anxious. It is bad enough that +William and I should be so much on the _qui vive_ that we are unable to +sleep, without robbing you of your sleep also." + +"I don't think I shall be robbed of my sleep," she said, with a laugh. + +"Then you are not anxious?" he questioned. + +"Not very." + +"Why not?" + +"Because father was not the man to be mistaken in a matter of that kind. +If any man in Cornwall knew tin when he saw it, it was father." + +"I am glad you are so hopeful," he said; and he went off into his +laboratory. He did not tell her that the possibilities of mistake were +far more numerous than she had any conception of, and that it was +possible for the cleverest experts to be mistaken until certain tests +had been applied. + +William Menire turned up a little later in the evening, and joined Ralph +in his laboratory. He would have preferred remaining in the +sitting-room, but Ruth gave him no encouragement to stay. She had grown +unaccountably reserved with him of late. He was half afraid sometimes +that in some way he had offended her. There was a time, and not so long +ago, when she seemed pleased to be in his company, when she talked with +him in the freest manner, when she even showed him little attentions. +But all that was at an end. Ever since that morning when he had rushed +into the house with the announcement that their offer for Hillside Farm +had been accepted, she had been distinctly distant and cool with him. + +He wondered if Ruth had read his heart better than he had been able to +read it himself; wondered whether his love for her had coloured his +motives. He had been anxious to act unselfishly; to act without +reference to his love for Ruth. He was not so sure that he had done so. +And if Ruth had guessed that he hoped to win her favour by being +generous to her brother--and to her--then he could understand why she +was distant with him now. Ruth's love was not to be bought with favours. + +Unconsciously William himself became shy and reserved when Ruth was +about. The fear that she mistrusted him made him mistrustful of himself. +He felt as though he had done a mean thing, and had been found out. If +by chance he caught her looking at him, he fancied there was reproach in +her eyes, and so he avoided looking at her as much as possible. + +All this tended to deepen the reserve that had grown up between them. +Neither understood the other, and William had not the courage to have +the matter out with her. A few plain questions and a few plain answers +would have solved the difficulty and made two people as happy as mortals +could ever hope to be; but, as often happens in this world, the +questions were not asked and the unspoken fear grew and intensified +until it became absolute conviction. + +Ruth did not join her brother and William in the laboratory. She sat +near the fire with a lamp by her side and some unfinished work in her +lap. She caught up her work every now and then, and plied a few vigorous +stitches; then her hands would relax again, and a dreamy, far-away look +would come into her eyes. + +Now and then a low murmur of voices would come through from the little +shed at the back, but she could distinguish nothing that was said. One +thing she was conscious of, there was no note of mirth or merriment, no +suggestion of laughter, in the sounds that fell on her ear. The hours +were so big with Fate, so much was trembling in the balance, that there +was no place for anything but the most serious talk. + +"Nothing seems of much importance to men but business," she said to +herself, with a wistful look in her eyes. "Life consists in the +abundance of the things which they possess. They get their joy out of +conflict--battle. We women live a life apart, and dream dreams with +which they have no sympathy, and see visions which they never see." + +The evening wore away unconsciously. The men talked, the woman dreamed, +but neither the talk nor the dreams brought much satisfaction. + +Ruth stirred herself at length and got supper ready for three, but +William would not stay. He had remained much too long already, and had +no idea it was so late. + +Ruth did not press him, she left that to her brother. Once or twice +William looked towards her, but she avoided his glance. Like all women, +she was proud at heart. William was conscious that Ruth's invitation was +coldly formal. If he remained he would be very uncomfortable. + +"No, I must get back," he said decidedly, without again looking at Ruth; +and with a hasty good-evening he went out into the dark. + +For a few minutes he walked rapidly, then he slackened his pace. + +"She grows colder than ever," he said to himself. "She intends me to see +without any mistake that if I expected to win her love by favours, I'm +hugely mistaken. Well, well!" and he sighed audibly. "To-morrow morning +we shall know, I expect, whether it is failure or fortune," he went on, +after a long pause. "It's a tremendous risk we are running, and yet I +would rather win Ruth Penlogan than all the wealth there is in +Cornwall." + +William did not sleep well that night. Neither did Ralph nor Ruth. They +were all intensely anxious for what the morrow should bring. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +THE PENALTY OF PROSPERITY + + +By the evening of the following day all St. Goram had heard the news; by +the end of the week it was the talk of the county. The discovery of a +new tin lode was a matter of considerable importance, not only to the +few people directly interested, but to the entire community. It would +mean more work for the miner, more trade for the shopkeeper, and more +traffic for the railway. + +The "out-of-works" straggled into St. Goram by the dozen. Mining experts +came to see and report. Newspaper men appeared on the scene at all hours +of the day, and wrote astonishing articles for the weekly press. Ralph +found himself bombarded on every side. Speculators, financiers, company +promotors, editors, reporters, photographers, miners, and out-of-works +generally made his life a burden. He would have kept out of sight if he +could, and turned William Menire on the crowd. But William was busy +winding up his own business. Moreover, his mother was ill, and never +seemed happy if he was off the premises. + +Ralph almost wished sometimes that he had never discovered the lode. Men +came to him for employment who scarcely knew how to handle a shovel, and +he often had to take off his coat and show them the way. He was like a +beggar who had found a diamond and did not know what to do with it. On +all hands people spoke of his good fortune, but after a few weeks he +began to be in doubt. Difficulties and worries and vexations began to +gather like snowflakes in a winter's storm. Lord St. Goram put in a +claim for a certain right of way. The District Council threatened legal +proceedings if he interfered with a particular watercourse. Sir John +Hamblyn's legal adviser raised a technical point on the question of +transfer. The Chancellor of the Duchy sent a formidable list of +questions relating to Crown rights, while Farmer Jenkins wanted +compensation for the destruction of crops which had never been +destroyed. + +"I've raised a perfect hornets' nest," Ralph said to William Menire one +evening, in his little room at the back of the shop. "Everybody seems to +consider me fair game. There isn't a man in the neighbourhood with any +real or fancied right who has not put in some trumpery claim or other. +The number of lawyers' letters I have received is enough to turn my hair +grey." + +"Oh, never mind," William said cheerfully, "things will come out right +in the end! I am sorry you have to face the music alone, but I'm as fast +here as a thief in a mill." + +"I know you are," Ralph said sympathetically. "But to tell you the +candid truth, I am not so sure that things will come out right." + +"Why not?" + +"Because everybody is up in arms against us." + +"Not everybody." + +"Everybody who thinks he can get something out of us. Our little +dominion is surrounded by hostile tribes. I never realised till the last +few days how completely we are hemmed in. On two sides the Hamblyn +estates block our passage, on the third side Lord St. Goram's land +abuts, and on the fourth side old Beecham has his fence and his barbed +wire, and all these people have struck up a threatening attitude. Sir +John is naturally as mad as a hatter that he sold the farm at all. Lord +St. Goram is angry that a couple of plebeians should own land in what he +regards as his parish; while old Beecham, who regards himself as an +aristocrat, sides with his own class, and so between them our fate +promises to be that of the pipkin between the iron pots." + +"But we need not go beyond the bounds of our own property," William +said. + +"There you are mistaken," Ralph answered quickly. "Our small empire is +not self-contained. There is no public road through it or even to it. +Lord St. Goram threatens to block up the only entrance. And you know +what going to law with a landed magnate means." + +William looked grave. + +"Then we must have a 'dressing floor' somewhere," Ralph went on, "and +the only convenient place is Dingley Bottom. Water is abundant there. +But though God gave it, man owns it, and the owner, like an angry dog, +snarls when he is approached." + +"Very good," William said, after a pause, "but don't you see we are +still masters of the situation?" + +"No, I can't say that I do. We are only two very small and very obscure +men with a very limited amount of cash. As a matter of fact, I have got +to the end of mine. In a battle with these Titans of wealth, what can we +do?" + +"Sit tight!" + +"Easier said than done. Your business life in St. Goram has been +terminated. At the present time I am earning nothing. In order to sit +tight, we must have something to sit on." + +"We can farm Hillside, and live on vegetables." + +"Jenkins does not go out till March, and in the meanwhile he is claiming +compensation for damages." + +"We can easily deal with him. He won't go to law; he is too poor, and +has too genuine a horror of lawyers. So he will submit his claim to +arbitration." + +"But even with Jenkins out of the way, and ourselves installed as +farmers, we are still in a very awkward plight. Suppose St. Goram really +contests this right of way--which was never hinted at till now--he can +virtually ruin us with law costs." + +"He would never be so mean as to attempt it." + +Ralph laughed bitterly. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "I can see clearly enough there is going to +be an organised attempt to crush us. As for the question of meanness, +that will never be considered for a moment. We are regarded as +interlopers who have been guilty of sharp practice. Hence, we must not +only be checkmated, but ground into powder." + +"They haven't done it yet," William said, with a cheerful smile, "and +I'm not going to say die till I'm dead." + +Ralph laughed again, and a little less bitterly than before. William's +hopefulness was not without its influence upon him. + +For a while there was silence, then William spoke again. + +"Look here, Ralph," he said; "strength will have to be met with +strength. The strong too often know nothing of either mercy or justice. +One does not like to say such a thing, or even think it, but this is no +time for sentiment." + +"Well?" + +"You know our hope has been to work the lode ourselves; to increase our +plant, as we have made a little money; to employ only St. Goram men, and +give each one a share in the concern. It was a benevolent idea, but it +is clear we are not to be allowed to carry it out." + +"Well?" + +"Two courses are still open to us. The first is to fill in the +prospecting pits and let the lode lie undeveloped. The second is to let +the financiers come in and form a company that shall be strong enough to +meet Lord St. Goram and his class on their own ground." + +Ralph was silent. + +"I know you do not like either alternative," William went on, "but we +are pushed up into a corner." + +"The first alternative will fail for the reason I mentioned just now," +Ralph interposed. "St. Goram will dispute the right of way." + +"And he knows we cannot afford to go to law with him." + +"Exactly." + +"Then we are thrown back on the second alternative, and our little dream +of a benevolent autocracy is at an end. Strangers must come in. People +who have no interest in St. Goram will find the money. A board of +directors will manage the concern, and you and I will be lost in the +crowd." + +Ralph raised his eyes for a moment, but did not reply. + +"Such a plan has its advantages," William went on. "If we had been +allowed to carry out our plan, developments would be very slow." + +"Not so slow. You must remember that the lode is very rich." + +"It would necessarily be slow at the start," William replied. "By +letting the financiers come in, the thing will be started right away on +a big scale. Every man out of work will have a job, and money will begin +to circulate in St. Goram at once." + +"That is no doubt true, but--well, it knocks on the head much I had +hoped for." + +"I know it does; but living in our little corner here, our view may be +narrow and prejudiced. There is honest company promoting as well as +dishonest. Combination of capital need not be any more wrong than +combination of labour. No single man could build a railway from London +to Penzance, and stock it; and if he could, it is better that a company +should own it, and work it, than a single individual. You prefer a +democracy to an autocracy, surely?" + +Ralph's face brightened, but he remained silent. + +"Suppose you and I had been able to carry out our idea," William went +on. "We should have been absolute rulers. Are we either of us wise +enough to rule? We might have become, in our own way, more powerful than +Lord St. Goram and all the other county magnates rolled into one. Should +we have grace enough to use our power justly? We have benevolent +intentions, but who knows how money and power might corrupt? They nearly +always do corrupt. We complain of the way the strong use their strength; +perhaps it is a mercy the temptation is not put in our way." + +"Perhaps you are right, William," Ralph said at length, "though I +confess I distrust the whole gang of company promoters that have been +buzzing about me for the last month." + +"Why not consult Sir John Liskeard? He is our member; he is interested +in the place. He knows most people, and he would at least bring an +unprejudiced mind to bear on the question." + +Ralph gave a little gasp. To see Sir John he would have to go to London. +If he went to London, he might see Dorothy Hamblyn. + +He did not speak for a moment. The sudden vision of Dorothy's face +blotted out everything. It was curious how she dominated him still; how +his heart turned to her constantly as the needle to the pole; how her +face came up before him in the most unexpected places, and at the most +unexpected times; how the thought of her lay at the back of all his +enterprises and all his hopes. + +"It means money going to London," he said at length. + +"We must sow if we would reap," William replied, "and our balance at the +bank is not quite exhausted yet. Don't forget that we are partners in +this enterprise, and in any case we could sell the farm for a great deal +more than we gave for it." + +"We may be compelled to sell it yet," Ralph said ruefully. + +"But not until we are compelled," was the cheerful reply. "No, no; if we +don't win this time, it will not be for want of trying." + +"My experience has not been encouraging," Ralph answered. "In every +struggle so far, I have gone under. The strong have triumphed. Right and +justice have been set aside." + +"You have gone under only to come to the top again," William laughed. + +"But think of father and mother." + +"Martyrs in the sacred cause of freedom," William answered. "The rights +of the people are not won in a day." + +Ralph was silent for a while, then he looked up with a smile. + +"Your judgment is sounder than mine," he said. "I will go to London +to-morrow." + +He had no difficulty in getting an interview with Sir John. The member +for the St. Hilary division of the county had his eye on the next +election. Moreover, he was keenly interested in the new discovery, and +was not without hope that he might be able to identify himself with the +concern. He manifested distinct pleasure when Ralph was announced, and +gave all his attention to him at once. + +Ralph put the whole case before him from start to finish. Liskeard +listened attentively with scarcely an interruption. He smiled now and +then as Ralph explained his own hope and purpose--his benevolent +autocracy, as William called it--and how he had been foiled by the ring +of strong men--strong in wealth and social influence--who threatened to +strangle all his hopes and schemes. + +It took Ralph a long time to tell his story, for he was anxious to leave +no point obscure. Sir John listened without the least trace of weariness +or impatience. He was too keenly interested to notice how rapidly time +was flying. + +"I think your partner has the true business instinct," he said at +length. "It is almost impossible to carry out great schemes by private +enterprise." + +"Then you approve of forming a company?" + +"Most certainly. I have been expecting to see in the papers for weeks +past that such a company had been formed." + +"I mistrust the whole lot of them," Ralph said, with a touch of +vehemence in his tone. "Everybody appears to be on the make." + +"It is of very little use quarrelling with human nature," Sir John said, +with a smile. "We must take men as we find them, and be careful to keep +our eyes open all the time." + +"If someone stronger than yourself ties you to a tree and robs you, I +don't see much use in keeping your eyes open," Ralph answered bluntly. +"Indeed, it might be a prudent thing to keep your eyes shut." + +Liskeard lay back in his chair and laughed heartily. + +"I see where you are," he said at length. "Still, there is a soul of +honour alive in the world even among business men. Don't forget that our +great world of commerce is built on trust. There are blacklegs, of +course, but in the main men are honest." + +"I am glad to hear it," Ralph answered dubiously. "But now to get to the +main point. Will you help us in this thing? William Menire and myself +are both inexperienced, both ignorant, both mistrustful of ourselves, +and particularly of other people." + +"Can you trust me?" Liskeard questioned, with a laugh. + +"Yes, we can, or I should not have come to you." + +"Then I think I may say I can put the thing through for you." + +"It's a good thing," Ralph said warmly. "There is not a lode a quarter +so rich in the three parishes. I question if there is anything equal to +it in the whole county." + +"I have read the assayer's report," Sir John answered. + +"And because it is so good," Ralph went on, "I'd like St. Goram to have +the first claim, if you understand. If there are any preferences, let +them go to the people at home." + +"And your share?" + +"William and I will leave our interests in your hands. You are a lawyer. +All we want is justice and fair play." + +"I understand. If you will dine with me at the House to-morrow night I +think we shall be able to advance the case a step further." + +Ralph got into an omnibus in Fleet Street, and alighted at Westminster. +Thence he made his way into St. James's Park. The weather was raw and +cold, the trees bare, the paths muddy and deserted. He wandered up and +down for the best part of an hour--it was too cold to sit down--then he +made his way across Hyde Park Corner and struck Rotten Row. + +A few schoolgirls, accompanied by riding masters, were trotting up and +down. A few closed carriages rolled by on the macadam road, a few +pedestrians sauntered listlessly along under the bare trees. + +A few soldiers might be seen talking to giggling nursemaids, but the one +face he hungered to see did not reveal itself. He walked almost to +Kensington Palace and back again, by which time night had begun to fall. +Then with a little sigh he got into a 'bus, and was soon rolling down +Piccadilly. + +London seemed a lonely place in the summer time; it was lonelier than +ever in the winter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +LIGHT AND SHADOW + + +By the end of the following May, Great St. Goram Mine was in full +working order. Ralph was installed as managing director; William was +made a director and secretary to the company. Lord St. Goram was in +Scotland at the time, and when he applied for shares he was too late. +His chagrin knew no bounds. He had imagined that he had Ralph and +William in the hollow of his hand. That two country bumpkins, as he was +pleased to call them, would be able to float a company had not occurred +to him. He knew the project that first occupied their thoughts. He knew +that he could make it impossible for them to carry their ideas into +effect. + +His agent had hinted to William that his lordship would be willing to +take the farm off their hands at a price; hence, he believed that by +applying gentle pressure, and waiting, he would be able in a very short +time to get the whole thing into his hands. + +For a few weeks he threatened the company with all sorts of pains and +penalties, but the company was not to be bluffed. Private interest had +to give way before public convenience. Where the welfare of a whole +community was at stake, no petty and niggling contention about right of +way was allowed to stand. The company made its own right of way, and was +prepared to pay any reasonable damage. + +With the company at his back, Ralph laughed in the consciousness of his +strength. He had never felt strong before. It was a new experience, and +a most delightful sensation. He had never lacked courage or will power, +but he had been made to feel that environment or destiny--or whatever +name people liked to give it--was too strong for him. Strength is +relative, and in comparison with the forces arrayed against him, he had +felt weaker than an infant. + +When his father was driven from his home, he had bowed his head with the +rest in helpless submission. When he was arrested on a false and +ridiculous charge, he submitted without protest. When he saw his mother +dying in a workhouse hospital, he could only groan in bitterness of +spirit. When the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company gave him notice to +suspend operations, he had tamely to submit. In fact, submission had +been the order of his life. It had been given to others to rule; it had +been his to obey. + +This would not have been irksome if the rule of the strong had been wise +and just. But when justice was thrust aside or trampled under foot, as +if it had no place in the social order, when equity was only the +shuttlecock and plaything of interested people, when the weak were +denied their rights simply because they were weak, and the reward of +merit was to be cuffed by the tyrant, then his soul revolted and he grew +bitter and cynical in spite of himself. + +Now, however, the tables had been turned. For the first time in his life +he felt himself among the strong. He need no longer sit down tamely +under an injustice, or submit to insults in silence. Success was power. +Money was power. Combination was power. + +He pulled himself up suddenly at length with a feeling almost of terror. +He was in danger of becoming what he had condemned so much in others. +The force and subtlety of the temptation stood revealed as in a blinding +flash. It was so splendid to have strength, to be able to stalk across +the land like a giant, to do just what pleased him to do, to consult no +one in the doing of it. It was just in that the temptation and the +danger lay. It was so easy to forget the weak, to overlook the +insignificant, to treat the feeble as of no account. Strength did not +constitute right. + +That was a truth that tyrants never learned and that Governments too +frequently shut their eyes to. God would hold him responsible for his +strength. If he had the strength of ten thousand men, he still had no +right to do wrong. + +So at length he got to see things in their true proportion and +perspective. The strength that had come to him was only an adventitious +kind of strength, after all. Unless he had another and a better kind of +strength to balance it, it might prove his destruction. What he needed +most was moral strength, strength to use wisely and justly his +opportunities, strength to hold the balance evenly, strength to do the +right, whatever it might cost him, to suffer loss for conscience' sake, +to do to others what he would they should do to him. + +If he ever forgot the pit out of which he had been digged, success would +be a failure in the most direful sense. + +He trembled when he saw the danger, and prayed God to help him. He was +walking on the edge of a precipice and knew it; a precipice over which +thousands of so-called successful men had fallen. + +"Ruth," he said to his sister one evening, with a grave look in his +eyes, "if you ever see me growing proud, remind me that my mother died +in a workhouse." + +"Ralph?" she questioned, with a look of surprise on her face. + +"I am not joking," he said solemnly. "I was never in more sober earnest. +I have stood in slippery places many times before, but never in one so +slippery as this." + +"Are not things going well at the mine?" she asked, in alarm. + +"Too well," he answered. "The shareholders will get twenty per cent. on +their money the first year." + +"And you are a large shareholder," she said, with a look of elation in +her eyes. + +"Besides which, there are the dues to the landlord, as well as the +salary of the manager. Do you not see, Ruth, that this sudden change of +fortune is a perilous thing?" + +"To some people it might be, Ralph." + +"It is to me. It came to me this afternoon as I walked across the +'floors' and men touched their caps to me." + +"But you can never forget the past," she said. + +"But men do forget the past," he answered. "Would you ever imagine for a +moment that Lord Probus, for instance, was not to the manner born?" + +"I have seen him only two or three times," she answered; "but it seems +to me that he is always trying to be a lord, which proves----" + +"Which proves what?" + +"Well, you see, a man who is really a gentleman does not try to be one. +He is one, and there's an end of it; he hasn't to try." + +"Oh, I see. Then forgetting the past is all a pretence?" + +"A man may forget his poverty, but I do not think he can forget his +parents. You need not remember where mother died, but how she and father +lived; their goodness is our greatest fortune." + +He did not make any further reply then, and a little later he put on his +hat and said-- + +"I am going along to see William. He went home poorly this morning." + +"Poorly?" + +"Caught a chill, I fancy. The weather has been very changeable, you +know." + +Ruth felt a sudden tightening of the strings about her heart, and when +Ralph had disappeared she sat down by the window and looked with +unseeing eyes out across the garden. + +She was back again in the old home, the home in which she had spent so +many happy and peaceful years, and from which she had been exiled so +long. She was very happy, on the whole, and yet she realised in a very +poignant sense that Hillside could never be again what it had been. + +It was bound to be something more or something less. Nothing could +restore the past, nothing could give back what had been taken away. + +The twilight was deepening rapidly across the landscape, the tender +green of spring was vanishing into a sombre black. From over the low +hill came fitfully the rattle of stamps which had been erected in +Dingley Bottom, and occasionally the creak of winding gear could be +faintly heard. + +From the front windows of the house there was no change in the +landscape, but from the kitchen and dairy windows the engine-house, with +its tall, clumsy stack, loomed painfully near. Ralph had planted a +double line of young trees along the ridge, which in time would shut off +that part of the farm given over to mining operations, but at present +they were only just breaking into leaf. + +It was at first a very real grief to Ruth that the mine so disfigured +the farm. She recalled the years of ungrudging toil given by her father +to bring the waste land under cultivation, and now the fields were being +turned into a desert once more. She soon, however, got reconciled to the +change. The best of the fields remained unharmed, and the man and boy +who looked after the farm had quite as much as they could attend to. +Ralph did not mind so long as there was a bowl of clotted cream on the +table at every meal. Beyond that his interest in the farm ceased. + +But the mine was a never-failing source of pleasure to him. Tin was not +the only product of those mysterious veins that threaded their way +through the solid earth. There were nameless ores that hitherto had been +treated as of no account because no use had been found for them. + +Ralph began making experiments at once. His laboratory grew more rapidly +than any other department. His early passion for chemistry received +fresh stimulus, and had room for full play, with the result that he made +his salary twice over by what he saved out of the waste. + +William Menire's interest in the mine was purely commercial, and in that +respect he was of great value. He laboured quietly and unceasingly, +finding in work the best antidote to loneliness and disappointment. His +mother was no longer with him. She had joined the silent procession of +the dead. He was thankful for some things that she did not live to see +the winding up of his little business--for it seemed little to him now +in contrast with the wider and vaster interests of the company with +which he was connected. She had been very proud of the shop, +particularly proud of the great plate-glass window her son had put in at +his own expense. + +The edict of Lord St. Goram to restore the house to its original +position had been a great blow to her. She had adored the +aristocracy--they were not as other men, mean and petty and +revengeful--hence the demand of his lordship shattered into fragments +one of her most cherished illusions. + +She did not live to hear the click and ring of the trowel, telling her +that a brick wall was taking the place of the plate glass. On the very +last day of her life she heard as usual the tinkle of the shop bell and +the murmur of voices below. + +When William had laid her to rest in the churchyard he disposed of his +stock as rapidly as possible, restored the house to its original +condition as far as it was possible to do it, and then turned his back +upon St. Goram. + +The little village of Veryan was much nearer the mine, much nearer the +Penlogans, and just then seemed much nearer heaven. So he got rooms with +a garrulous but godly old couple, and settled down to bachelordom with +as much cheerfulness as possible. + +That he felt lonely--shockingly lonely at times--it was of no use +denying. He missed the late customers, the "siding up" when the shutters +were closed, the final entries in his day-book and ledger. Big and +wealthy and important as the Great St. Goram Tin Mining Company was, and +exacting as his labour was in the daytime, he was left with little or +nothing to do after nightfall. The evenings hung on his hands. Books +were scarce and entertainments few, and sometimes he smoked more than +was good for him. + +He went to see Ralph as often as he could find a reasonable excuse, and +always received the heartiest welcome, but for some reason the cloud of +Ruth's reserve never lifted. She was sweet and gentle and hospitable, +but the old light had gone out of her eyes and the old warmth from her +speech. She rarely looked straight into his face, and rarely remained +long in his company. + +He puzzled himself constantly to find out the reason, and had not the +courage to ask. He wanted to be her friend, to be taken into her +confidence, to be treated as a second brother. Anything more than that +he never dared hope for. That she might love him was a dream too foolish +to be entertained. He was getting old--at any rate he was much nearer +forty than thirty, while she was in the very flower of her youth. So he +wondered and speculated, and got no nearer a solution of the problem. + +Ralph was so engrossed in his own affairs that he never noticed any +change, and never guessed that Ruth was the light of William's eyes. + +The idea that William Menire might be in love occurred to no one. He was +looked upon as a confirmed bachelor, and when the public has assigned a +man to that position he may be as free with the girls as he likes +without awaking the least suspicion. + +Ruth sat by the window until it had grown quite dark, and then a maid +came in and lighted the lamp. She took up her work when the maid had +gone, and tried to centre her thoughts on the pattern she was working; +but her eyes quickly caught a far-away expression, and she found herself +listening for the footfall of her brother, while her hands lay +listlessly in her lap. + +Several times she shook herself--metaphorically--and plied her needle +afresh, but the effort never lasted very long. An unaccountable sense of +fear or misgiving stole into her heart. She grew restless and +apprehensive, and yet she had no tangible reason for anxiety. + +William Menire was more her brother's friend than hers, and the fact +that he had caught cold was not a matter of any particular moment. Of +course a cold might develop into something serious. He might be +ill--very ill. He might die. She caught her breath suddenly, and went +and opened the door. The stars were burning brightly in the clear sky +above, and the wind blew fresh and strong from the direction of +Treliskey Plantation. She listened intently for the sound of footsteps, +but the only noise that broke the silence was the rattle of the stamps +in Dingley Bottom. + +Somehow she hated the sound to-night. It grated harshly on her ears. It +had no human tone, no note of sympathy. The stamps were grinding out +wealth for greedy people, careless of who might suffer or die. + +She came in and shut the door after a few moments, and looked +apprehensively at the clock. Ralph was making a long call. + +The house grew very still at length. The servant went to bed. The clock +ticked loudly on the mantelpiece; the wind rumbled occasionally in the +chimney. + +Suddenly the door opened, and her brother stood before her. His face was +flushed, and there was a troubled look in his eyes. + +"You are late, Ralph," she said, scarcely daring to look at him. + +"William is very ill," he said, as if he had not heard her words, +"dangerously ill." + +"No!" + +"Pneumonia, the doctor fears. He is terribly anxious." + +"Who--the doctor?" + +"Yes. If William dies I shall lose my best friend." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +LOVE AND LIFE + + +Ruth lay awake long after she had retired to rest. The fear which had +been expressed by Ralph increased her own a thousandfold. If William +should die, not only would her brother lose his best friend--there was a +more terrible thought than that, a thought which need not be expressed +in words, for nobody understood. + +Somebody has said that a woman never loves until her love is asked for; +that though all the elements are there, they remain dormant till a +simple question fires the train. But love--especially the love of a +woman--is too subtle, too elusive a thing to be covered by any sweeping +generalisation. + +William had never spoken his love to Ruth, never even looked it, yet the +fire had got alight in Ruth's heart somehow. When it began she did not +know. For long she had no suspicion what it meant. Later on she tried to +trample it out; she felt ashamed and humiliated. The bare thought of +loving a man who had never spoken of love to her covered her with +confusion. + +Sometimes she tried to persuade herself that it was not love she felt +for William Menire, but only gratitude mingled with admiration. He had +been the best friend she and her brother had ever known. All their +present prosperity they owed to him, and everything he had done for them +was without ostentation. He was not a showy man, and only those who knew +him intimately guessed how great he was, how fine his spirit, how +exalted his ideals. + +She had never thought much about love until Sam Tremail proposed to her; +but when once the subject stared her in the face she was bound to look +at it. And while she was looking and trying to find what answer her +heart gave, William came with the announcement that the farm was theirs, +and theirs through his help and instrumentality. From that moment she +knew that it was not Sam Tremail she loved. Of course, she had known all +along that Sam was not the equal of his cousin in any sense of the word. +But Sam was young and handsome and well-to-do, while William was +journeying toward middle life, and had many of the ways of a confirmed +bachelor. + +It came to her as in a flash that all true love must be built on +reverence. Youth and good looks might inspire a romantic attachment, a +fleeting emotion, a passing fancy, but the divine passion of love grew +out of something deeper. It was not a dewdrop sparkling on a leaf. It +was a fountain springing out of the heart of the hills. + +With knowledge came pain and confusion. She had not the courage to look +William in the eyes. She was in constant dread lest she should reveal +her secret. She would not for the world that he should know. If he +should ever guess she would die of shame. + +From that day onward she had a harder battle to fight than anyone +knew--perhaps the hardest of all battles that a woman is called upon to +wage. William came and went constantly; helped them when they removed to +Hillside, and was never failing in friendly suggestions. Ralph was so +full of the mine that such small details as wallpapers and carpets and +curtains never occurred to him, and when they were mentioned he told +Ruth to make her own choice. It was William who came to the rescue in +those days, and saved her an infinity of trouble and anxiety. + +Ruth thought of all this as she lay awake, listening to the faint and +fitful rattle of the stamps beyond the hill. Was this brave, unselfish +life to be suddenly quenched--this meek but heroic soul to be taken away +from earth? + +She was pale and hollow-eyed when she came downstairs next morning, but +Ralph was too absorbed to notice it. He too had been kept awake thinking +about William, and directly breakfast was over he hurried away to Veryan +to make inquiries. + +Ruth waited till noon for news--waited with more impatience than she had +ever felt before. She had no need to ask Ralph if William was better. +She knew by the look in his eyes that he was not. After that, the hours +and days moved with leaden feet. Ralph went to Veryan twice every day, +and sometimes three times. Ruth grew more and more silent. Her task +became more painfully difficult. Other people could talk about William, +could praise his qualities, could recount the story of his simple and +heroic life, but she, by her very love for him, was doomed to silence. + +She envied the nurse who could sit by his bedside and minister to his +needs. She felt that it was her place. No one cared for him as she did. +It seemed a cruel thing that her very love should keep her from his +side, and shut her up in silence. + +Ralph came in hurriedly one evening, and sat down to table; but after +eating a few mouthfuls, he laid down his knife and fork, and pushed his +plate from him. + +"I suppose you know William is dying?" he said, without raising his +eyes. + +She looked at him with a startled expression, but did not speak. She +made an effort, but the words froze on her tongue. + +"One should not doubt the Eternal wisdom," he went on huskily, "but it +seems a huge mistake. There are a hundred men who could be better +spared." + +"God knows best," Ruth tried to say, but she was never sure that the +words escaped her lips. + +"He seems quite resigned to his fate," Ralph continued, after a pause. +"The doctor told him this morning that if he had any worldly affairs to +settle he should put them in order without delay. He appears to be +waiting now for the end." + +"He is not afraid?" Ruth questioned, bringing out the words with a great +effort. + +"Not a bit. He reminds me of father more than any man I have ever known. +His confidence is that of a little child. By-the-bye, he would like to +see you before he goes." + +"See me, Ralph?" + +"He expressed himself very doubtfully and timidly, and asked me if I +thought you would mind coming to say good-bye." + +"There could be no harm in it, Ralph?" + +"Not a bit. He has been like an elder brother to us both." + +"Yes--yes." And she rose from the table at once, and went upstairs to +get her hat and jacket. + +"What, ready so soon?" he questioned, when she appeared again. + +"I may be too late as it is," she answered, in a voice that she scarcely +recognised as her own. + +"I will go with you," he said, "for it will be dark when you return." + +For awhile they walked rapidly and in silence, but when the village came +in sight they slackened their pace a little. + +"It is hard to give up hope," Ralph said, as if speaking to himself. "He +was so healthy and so strong, and he has lived a life so temperate and +so clean that he ought to pull through anything." + +"Does the doctor say there is no hope?" + +"He has none himself." + +William was listening with every sense alert. He knew by some subtle +instinct, some spiritual telepathy, that Ruth was near. He caught her +whisper in the hall, he knew her footstep when she came quickly up the +stairs, and the beating of his heart seemed to get beyond all bounds. + +He was too weak to raise himself in bed, but his eyes were strained +toward the door. + +"You will leave me when she comes," he said to the nurse as soon as he +heard Ruth's voice in the hall, and directly the door was pushed open +the nurse disappeared. + +Ruth walked straight up to the bedside without faltering. William feebly +raised his wasted hand, and she took it in both hers. She was very +composed. She wondered at herself, and was barely conscious of the +effort she was making. + +He was the first to break the silence, and he spoke with a great effort, +and with many pauses. + +"Will you not sit there, where I can see you?" he said, indicating a +chair close to the bedside. "It is very good of you to come. I thought +you would, for you have always been kind to me." + +The tears came very near her eyes, but she resolutely raised her hand to +hide them from William. + +"You and your brother have been my dearest friends," he went on. "Ralph +is a noble fellow, and I do not wonder that you are proud of him. It has +been a great joy to me to know him--to know you both." + +"That feeling has been mutual," Ruth struggled to say; but William +scarcely waited to hear her out. Perhaps he felt that what he had to say +must be said quickly. + +"I thought I would like to tell you how much I have valued your +friendship--there can be no harm in that, can there?" + +"Why, no," she interposed. + +"But that is not all," he went on. "I want to say something more, and +there surely can be no harm in saying it now. I am nearing the end, the +doctor says." + +"Say anything you like," she interrupted, in a great sob of emotion. + +"You cannot be angry with me now," he continued. "You might have been +had I told you sooner. I know I have been very presumptuous, very +daring, but I could not help it. You stole my heart unconsciously. I +loved you in those dark days when you lived in the little cottage at St. +Goram. I wanted to help you then. And oh, Ruth, I have loved you ever +since--not with the blind, unreasoning passion of youth, but with the +deep, abiding reverence of mature years. My love for you is the +sweetest, purest, strongest thing I have ever cherished; and now that I +am going hence the impulse became so strong that I could not resist +telling you." + +She turned to him suddenly, her eyes swimming in tears. + +"Oh, William----" Then her voice faltered. + +"You are not angry with me, Ruth?" he questioned, almost in a whisper. + +"Angry with you? Oh, William----But why did you not tell me before?" + +"I was afraid to tell you, Ruth--afraid to put an end to our +friendship." + +She knelt down on the floor by his bedside and laid her face on his +hand, and he felt her hot tears falling like rain. + +For awhile neither of them spoke again; then she raised her head +suddenly, and with a pitiful smile on her face she said-- + +"You must not die, William!" + +"Not die?" he questioned. + +"No, no! For my sake you must get better," and she looked eagerly and +earnestly into his eyes, as though she would compel assent to her words. + +"Why for your sake?" he asked slowly and musingly. + +"Why? Oh, William, do you not understand? Can you not see----" + +"Surely--surely," he said, a great light breaking over his face, "you +cannot mean that--that----" + +"But I do mean it," she interrupted. "How could I mean anything else?" + +He half rose in bed, as if inspired with new strength, then lay back +again with a weary and long-drawn sigh. She rose quickly to her feet, +and bent over him with a little cry. A pallor so deathly stole over his +face that she thought he was dying. + +After a few moments he rallied again, and smiled reassuringly. Then the +nurse came back into the room. + +"You will come again?" he whispered, holding out his hand. + +She answered him with a smile, and then hurried down the stairs. + +She gave no hint to Ralph of what had passed between them, and during +the journey home through the darkness very little was said; but she +walked with a more buoyant step than during the outward journey, and in +her eye there was a brighter light, though Ralph did not see it. + +She scarcely slept at all that night. She spent most of the time on her +knees in prayer. Before Ralph got down to breakfast she had been to +Veryan and back again. She did not allude, however, to this second +journey. William was still alive, and in much the same condition. + +For nearly two days he dwelt in the valley of the shadow, and no one +could tell whether the angel of life or of death would prevail. The +doctor looked in every few hours, and did all that human skill could do. +William, though too spent to talk, and almost too weak to open his eyes, +was acutely conscious of what was taking place. + +To the onlookers it seemed as if he was passing into a condition of +coma, but it was not so. He was fighting for life with all the will +power he possessed. He had something to live for now. A new hope was in +his heart, a new influence was breathing upon him. So he fought back the +destroying angel inch by inch, and in the end prevailed. + +There came a day when Ruth again sat by his bedside, holding his hand. + +"I am getting better, sweetheart," he said, in a whisper. + +"Yes, William." + +"Your love and prayers have pulled me through." + +"I could not let you go," she said. + +"God has been very merciful," he answered reverently. "Next to His love +the most wonderful thing is yours." + +"Why should it be wonderful?" she asked, with a smile. + +"You are so beautiful," he answered, "and I am so unworthy, and so----" + +But she laid her hand upon his mouth and smothered the end of the +sentence. + +When once he had turned the corner he got better rapidly, but long +before he was able to leave the house all St. Goram knew that Ruth +Penlogan had promised to be his wife. + +Ralph saw very little of his sister in those days, she spent so much of +her time in going and coming between Hillside and Veryan. Fortunately +the affairs of the mine kept his hands occupied and his thoughts busy, +otherwise he would have felt himself neglected and alone. + +It was not without a pang he saw the happiness of William and his +sister. Not that he envied them; on the contrary, he rejoiced in their +newly found joy; and yet their happiness did accentuate his own +heartache and sense of loss. + +A year had passed since that memorable day in St. James's Park when he +told Dorothy Hamblyn that he loved her. He often smiled at his temerity, +and wondered what spirit of daring or of madness possessed him. + +He had tried hard since, as he had tried before, to forget her, but +without success. For good or ill she held his heart in bondage. What had +become of her he did not know. Hamblyn Manor was in possession of the +gardener and his wife, and one other servant. There were rumours that +some "up-the-country" people had taken it furnished for a year, but as +far as he knew no one as yet had appeared on the scene. Sir John, it was +said, was living quietly at Boulogne, but what had become of Dorothy and +her brother no one seemed to know. + +One afternoon he left Dingley Bottom earlier than usual, and wandered up +the long slant in the direction of Treliskey Plantation. His intention +was to cross the common to St. Goram, but on reaching the stile he stood +still, arrested by the force of memory and association. + +As he looked back into the valley he could not help contrasting the +present with the past. How far away that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon +seemed when he first came face to face with Dorothy Hamblyn! How much +had happened since! Then he was a poor, struggling, discontented, +ambitious youth, without prospects, without influence, and almost +without hope. + +Now he was rich--for riches are always relative--and a man. He had +prospects also, and influence. Perhaps he had more influence than any +other man in the parish. And yet he was not sure that he was not just as +discontented as ever. He was gaining the world rapidly, but he was still +unsatisfied. His heart was hungering for something he had not got. + +He might get more money, more power, more authority, more influence. +What then? The care of the world increased rather than diminished. It +was eternally true, "A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the +things he possesseth." + +His reflections were disturbed at length by the clicking of the gate +leading into the plantation. He turned his head suddenly, and found +himself face to face with Dorothy Hamblyn. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +PERPLEXING QUESTIONS + + +There was no chance of withdrawal for either. If Ralph had caught a +glimpse of Dorothy earlier, he would have hidden himself and let her +pass; but there was no possibility of that now. He could only stand +still and wait. Would she recognise him, or would she cut him dead? It +was an interesting moment--from his point of view, almost tragic. + +Wildly as his heart was beating, he could not help noticing that she +looked thin and pale, as though she had recovered from a recent illness. +She came straight on, not hesitating for a moment, and his heart seemed +to beat all the more tumultuously with every step she took. + +If in the long months that had elapsed since he saw her last he had +grown for a moment indifferent, his passion flamed up again to a white +heat at the first glimpse of her face. For him there was no other woman +on earth. Her beauty had increased with the passing of the years; her +character, strengthened and ennobled by suffering, showed itself in +every line of her finely expressive face. + +It was a trying moment for both, and perhaps more trying for Dorothy +than for Ralph. For good or ill she knew that this young man had +affected her whole life. He had crossed her path in the most critical +moments of her existence. He had spoken words almost at haphazard which +had changed the whole current of her thoughts. He had dared even to tell +her that he loved her, when influence was being brought to bear on her +to bestow her affection in another direction. + +There were moments when she felt half angry that she was unable to +forget him. He was out of her circle, and it seemed madness to let his +image remain in her heart for a single moment, and yet the fascination +of his personality haunted her. He was like no other man she had ever +met. His very masterfulness touched her fancy as nothing had ever done +before. If only he had been of her own set she would have made a hero of +him. + +When she left him in the Park after that passionate outburst of his, she +made up her mind that she must forget him--utterly and absolutely. The +situation had become dangerous; her heart was throbbing so wildly that +she could scarcely bear it; the tense glow and passion of his words rang +through her brain like the clashing of bells; her nerves were tingling +to her finger-tips. + +"Oh, what madness all this is," she said to herself--"what utter +madness!" And yet all the while her heart seemed to be leaping +exultantly. This clever, daring, handsome democrat loved her--loved her. +She lingered over the words unconsciously. + +Lord Probus had said he loved her, and had tempted her with a thousand +brilliant toys; Archie Temple--with whom she had walked in the Park more +than once--had professed unbounded and undying devotion; but her heart +had never leaped for a moment in response to their words. The only man +who moved her against her will, and sent the blood rushing through her +veins like nectar, was this son of the people, this man who hated her +class and tried his best to hate her. + +Nevertheless, her resolve was fixed and definite. She must forget him. +Unless she put him out of her thoughts he would spoil her whole life. +Socially, they belonged to different hemispheres. The fact that her +father was hard pressed for money, and was living abroad in order to +economise, did not alter their relative positions. A Hamblyn was still a +Hamblyn, though he lived in an almshouse. + +It was easier, however, to make good resolves than to carry them into +effect. Events would not allow her to forget. As the companion and +private secretary of the Dowager Duchess of Flint, she had to read the +papers every day, and not only the political articles, but the +commercial and financial. The success of the Great St. Goram Mine was +talked of far and wide, and the new discoveries of Ralph Penlogan, the +brilliant young chemist and mineralogist, were the theme of numberless +newspaper articles. Dorothy found herself searching all the papers that +came her way for some mention of his name, and her heart seemed to leap +into her mouth every time she saw it in print. + +The dowager often dabbled in stocks and shares for want of something +better to do. She liked to have what she called a "flutter" now and +then, and she managed to pick up a few Great St. Goram shares at eighty +per cent. premium. + +It came out one day in conversation that Dorothy knew the exact locality +of Great St. Goram Mine, knew the young man who had made the discovery, +knew all about the place and all about the people, in fact. The +dowager's interest grew. She began to make inquiries, and finally +decided to rent Hamblyn Manor for a year. Dorothy was in a transport of +excitement. To go back again to the dear old home would be like heaven, +even though her father and Geoffrey were not there. + +But that was not all. She would see Ralph Penlogan again--that would be +inevitable. It seemed as though the Fates had determined to throw them +together. The battle was not ended yet, it was only beginning. + +The second day after their arrival at Hamblyn Manor she went for a long +walk through the plantation. It was a lovely afternoon. The summer glory +lay upon land and sea. She stood still for several moments when she came +to the spot where she had found Ralph Penlogan lying senseless. How +vividly every circumstance came up before her, how well she remembered +his half-conscious talk. She did not see Ralph leaning against the stile +when she pushed open the gate, and yet she half expected he would be +there. It was the place where they first met, and Fate, or Destiny, or +Providence, had a curious way of bringing them together, and she would +have to face the inevitable, whatever it might be. + +She was not in the least surprised when she caught sight of him, nor did +she feel any inclination to turn back. Life was being shaped for her. +She was in the grasp of a power stronger than her own will. + +She looked at him steadily, and her face paled a little. He had altered +considerably. He looked older by several years. He was no longer a +youth, he was a man with the burden of life pressing upon him. Time had +sobered him, softened him, mellowed him, greatened him. + +Ought she to recognise him? For recognition would mean condoning his +daring, and if she condoned him once, he might dare again, and he looked +strong enough and resolute enough to dare anything. + +She never quite decided in her mind what she ought to do. She remembered +distinctly enough what she did. She smiled at him in her most gracious +and winning manner and passed on. She half expected to hear footsteps +behind her, but he did not follow. He watched her till she had turned +the brow of the hill toward St. Goram, then he retraced his steps in the +direction of his home. + +He too had a feeling that it was of no use fighting against Fate. Events +would have to take their course. She was not lost to him yet, and her +smile gave him fresh hope. + +He found the house empty when he got home, save for the housemaid. Ruth +was out with William somewhere. + +Ralph threw himself into an easy-chair and closed his eyes. His heart +was beating strangely fast, his hands shook in spite of himself. The +sight of Dorothy was like a match to stubble. He wondered if her beauty +appealed to other people as it did to him. + +Then a new question suggested itself to him, or an old question came up +in a new form. To tell Dorothy Hamblyn that he loved her was one thing, +to make love to her was another. Should he dare the second? He had dared +the first, not with any hope of winning her, but rather to demonstrate +to himself the folly of any such suggestion. But circumstances alter +cases, and circumstances had changed with him. He was no longer poor. He +could give her all the comforts she had ever known. As for the rest, her +name, her family pride, her patrician blood, her aristocratic +connections, they did not count with him. To ask a woman reared in +comfort and luxury to share poverty and hardship and want was what he +would never do. But the question of ways and means being disposed of, +nothing else mattered. He was a man and an Englishman. He had lived +honestly, and had kept his conscience clean. + +He believed in an aristocracy, as most people do, but the aristocracy he +believed in was the aristocracy of character and brains. He did not +despise money, but he despised the people who made it their god, and who +were prepared to sell their souls for its possession. To have a noble +ancestry was a great thing; there was something in blood, but a man was +not necessarily great because his father was a lord. The lower orders +did not all live in hovels, some of them lived in mansions. All fools +did not wear fustian, some of them wore fur-lined coats and drove +motor-cars; the things that mattered were heart and intellect. A man +might drop his "h's" and be a gentleman. The test of worth and manhood +was not the size of a man's bank balance, but the manner of his life. +Sir John Hamblyn boasted of his pedigree and was proud of his title, and +yet, to put it in its mildest form, he had played the fool for twenty +years. + +Ralph got up from his seat at length and walked out into the garden. He +had not felt so restless and excited for a year. The affairs of Great +St. Goram Mine passed completely out of his mind. He could think only of +one thing at a time, and just then Dorothy Hamblyn seemed of more +importance than anything else on earth. + +Up and down the garden paths he walked with bare head and his hands in +his pockets. Now and then his brows contracted, and now and then his +lips broke into a smile. The situation had its humorous as well as its +serious side. + +"If she had been the daughter of anybody else!" he said to himself again +and again. + +But outweighing everything else was the fact that he loved her. He could +not help it that she was the daughter of the man who had been his +greatest enemy. He could not help it that she belonged to a social +circle that had little or no dealings with his own. Love laughs at bolts +and bars. He was a man with the rights of a man and the hopes of a man. + +Before Ruth returned he had made up his mind what to do. + +Meanwhile, Dorothy was sauntering slowly homeward in a brown study. She +felt anything but sure of herself. She hoped she had done the right +thing in recognising Ralph Penlogan, but her heart and her head were not +in exact agreement. The conventions of society were very strict. The +Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans. + +"If only Ralph Penlogan had been in her circle," and her heart leaped +suddenly at the thought. How handsome he was, how resolute, how clever! +Unconsciously she compared him with her brother Geoffrey, with Archie +Temple, and with a number of other young men she had met in the +drawing-rooms of London society. + +The duchess had urged her to be friendly with Archie Temple. He was such +a nice young man. He was well connected, was, in fact, the nephew of an +earl, and was in receipt of a handsome salary which a generous +Government paid him for doing nothing. He was a type of a great many +others, impecunious descendants, many of them, of younger +sons--drawling, effeminate, shallow-pated nobodies. Socially, of course, +they belonged to what is called society printed with a capital S, but +that was the highest testimonial that could be given them. + +Dorothy found herself unconsciously revolting against the conventional +view of life and the ethics of the social Ten Commandments. Were the +mere accidents of birth the only things to be considered? Was a man less +noble because he was born in a stable and cradled in a manger? Did +greatness consist in possessing an estate and a title? Was worth to be +measured by the depth of a man's pocket? + +Measured by any true standard, she felt instinctively that Ralph +Penlogan overtopped every other man she had met. How bravely he had +fought, how patiently he had endured, how gloriously he had triumphed. +If achievement counted for anything, if to live purely and do something +worthy were the hall-marks of a gentleman, then he belonged to the +world's true aristocracy, he was worth all the Archie Temples of London +rolled into one. + +Before she reached Hamblyn Manor another question was hammering at her +brain-- + +"Did Ralph Penlogan still love her?" + +She looked apprehensively right and left, and was half afraid lest her +thoughts should take shape and reveal themselves to other people. + +What would people think if they knew she had put such a question to +herself? Had she forgotten that she was the daughter of Sir John +Hamblyn? + +No, she had not forgotten; but she was learning the truth that true +worth is not in title, or name, or fortune; that neither coronet nor +crown can make men; that fools clad in sables are fools still, and +rogues in mansions are still rogues. + +The love of a man like Ralph Penlogan was not a thing to resent. It was +something to be proud of and to be grateful for. + +She retired to rest that night with a strange feeling of wonder in her +heart. She was still uncertain of herself. + +"Suppose Ralph Penlogan still loved her, and suppose----" She hid her +face in the bedclothes and blushed in spite of herself. + +He was fearless, she knew, and unconventional, and had no respect for +names, or titles, or pedigrees as such. Moreover, he was not the man to +be discouraged by small obstacles or turned aside by feeble excuses, and +if he chose to cross her path she could not very well avoid him. The +place was comparatively small, the walks were few, and during this +glorious weather she could not dream of remaining indoors. + +She had encouraged him that afternoon by recognising him. She had smiled +at him in her most gracious way; and so, of course, he would know that +she had forgiven him for speaking to her as he had done when last they +met. And if he should seek her out; if, in his impetuous way, he should +tell her he loved her still; if he should ask for an answer, and for an +immediate answer. If--if---- + +She was still wondering when she fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +LOVE OR FAREWELL + + +With Ralph Penlogan, resolution usually meant action. Having made up his +mind to do a thing, he did not loiter long on the way. In any case, he +could only be rebuffed, and he preferred to know the truth at once to +waiting in doubt and uncertainty. A less impetuous nature would have +seen many more lions in the way than he did. For a son of the masses to +woo a daughter of the classes was an unheard-of thing, and had he taken +anyone into his confidence he would have been dissuaded from the +enterprise. + +In this matter, however, he did not wear his heart upon his sleeve. So +carefully had he guarded his secret, that even Ruth was under the +impression that if he had ever been in love with Dorothy Hamblyn, he had +outgrown the infatuation. Her name had not been mentioned for months, +and she had been so long absent from St. Goram that it scarcely seemed +probable that a youthful fancy would survive the long separation. + +Ralph did not tell her that the squire's "little maid" had once more +appeared on the scene. She would hear soon enough from other sources. He +intended to keep his own counsel. If he failed, no one would ever know; +but in any case, failure should not be due to any lack on his part +either of courage or perseverance. + +He was very silent and self-absorbed that evening, and had not Ruth been +so much taken up with her own love affair, she would not have failed to +notice it. But Ruth was living for the moment in a little heaven of her +own--a heaven so beautiful, so full of unspeakable delights, that she +was half afraid sometimes that she would wake up and find it was all a +dream. + +William was growing stronger every day, and expected soon to be as well +as ever. Moreover, he seemed determined to make up for all the years he +had lost. Ruth to him was a daily miracle of grace and beauty, and her +love for him was a perpetual wonder. He did not understand it. He did +not suppose he ever would. He accepted the fact with reverent gratitude, +and gave up attempting to fathom the mystery. + +He was very shy at first, and almost dubious. He felt so unworthy of so +great a gift, but comprehension grew with returning strength, and with +comprehension, courage. He believed himself to be the luckiest man on +earth, and the happiest. The most difficult thing of all to believe was +that Ruth could possibly be as happy as he. + +Conviction on that point came through sight. It was not what Ruth said; +it was the light that glowed in her soft brown eyes. A single glance +meant volumes. A shy glance darted across the room stirred his heart +like music. + +Ralph watched their growing intimacy and their deepening joy with a +sense of keen satisfaction. William was the one man in the world he +would have chosen for his sister if he had been called upon to decide, +and he was thankful beyond measure that Ruth had recognised his sterling +qualities, and, without persuasion from anyone, had made her choice. + +As the days passed away, Ralph had great difficulty in hiding his +restlessness from his sister. It seemed to him that Dorothy purposely +avoided him. He sought her out in all directions; lay in wait for her in +the most likely places; but, for some reason or other, she failed to +come his way. He spent hours leaning against the stile near Treliskey +Plantation, and on three separate occasions defied the notices that +trespassers would be prosecuted, and boldly marched through the +plantation till he came in sight of the gables of the Manor; but neither +patience nor perseverance was rewarded. He had to return disconsolate +the way he had come. + +Had he been of a less sanguine temperament, he would have drawn anything +but hopeful conclusions. Her avoidance of him could surely have but one +meaning, particularly as she knew the state of his feelings towards her. + +But presumptions and deductions did not satisfy Ralph. He would be +content with nothing short of actual facts. He was not sure yet that she +purposely avoided him, and he was sure that she had smiled when they +met, and that one fact was his sheet anchor just now. + +He went to St. Goram Church on the following Sunday morning, much to the +surprise of the vicar, for both he and Ruth were unswervingly loyal to +the little community at Veryan, to which their father and mother +belonged. Deep down in his heart he felt a little ashamed of himself. He +knew it was not to worship that he went to church, but in the hope of +catching a glimpse of Dorothy Hamblyn's face. + +The Hamblyn pew, however, remained empty during the whole of the +service. If he had gone to church from a wrong motive, he had been +deservedly punished. + +He began to think after awhile that Dorothy had paid a flying visit just +for a day, and had gone away again, and that consequently any hope he +ever had of winning her was more remote than ever. This view received +confirmation from the fact that he never heard her name mentioned. Ruth +had evidently not heard that she had been in St. Goram. Apparently she +had come and gone without anyone seeing her but himself--come and gone +like a gleam of sunshine on a stormy day--come and gone leaving him more +disconsolate than he had ever been before. + +For two days he kept close to his work, and never went beyond the bounds +of Great St. Goram Mine. For the moment he had been checkmated, but he +was not in despair. London was only a few hours away, and he had +frequently to go there on business. He should meet her again some time, +and if God meant him to win her he should win. + +It was in this hopeful spirit that he returned late from the mine. Ruth +brewed a fresh pot of tea for him, and put several dainties on the table +to tempt his appetite, for it had recently occurred to her that he was +not looking his best. + +"What do you think, Ralph?" she said at length. + +He looked up at her with a questioning light in his eyes, but did not +reply. + +"Dorothy Hamblyn is at the Manor." + +"Indeed," he said, in a tone of apparent indifference. "Who told you +that?" + +"She has been there a fortnight!" + +"A fortnight?" + +"Dr. Barrow told William. He has been attending her." + +"She is ill, then?" + +"She has been. Caught a chill or something of the kind, and was a good +deal run down to start with, but she is nearly all right again now. I +wonder if she will come to see me here as she used to do at the +cottage?" + +"Possibly." + +"I hope she will. It would be so nice to see her again. Her father may +be a tyrant, but she is an angel." + +Ralph gave a short, dry laugh. + +"You do not seem very much interested," Ruth continued. + +"Why should I be?" he questioned, looking up with a smile. + +"I thought you used to like her very much." + +"Oh, well, I did for that matter. But--but that's scarcely to the point, +is it?" + +"Well, no, perhaps it isn't. Only--only----" + +"Yes?" + +"Well, I sometimes wonder if you will ever do what William has done." + +"Oh, I fell in love with my sister long before he did." + +"Your own sister doesn't count." + +"She does with William--counts too much, I'm afraid. He's no eyes for +anything else." + +"Oh, go along!" + +"Not till I've had my tea. Remember, I'm hungry." + +Then a knock came to the door, and William entered. He was still thin +and pale, but there was a light in his eyes and a glow on his cheeks +such as no one ever saw in the old days. + +On the following afternoon Ralph made his way up the slant again in the +direction of Treliskey Plantation. It was a glorious afternoon. The hot +sunshine was tempered by a cool, Atlantic breeze. The hills and dales +were looking their best, the hedges were full of flowers, the woods and +plantations were great banks of delicious green. At the stile he paused +for several minutes and surveyed the landscape, but his thoughts all the +time were somewhere else. Hope had sprung up afresh in his heart, and a +determined purpose was throbbing through all his veins. + +After awhile he left the stile and passed through the plantation gate. +He was a trespasser, he knew, but that was a matter of little account. +No one would molest him now. He was a man of too much importance in the +neighbourhood. He hardly realised yet what a power he had become, and +how anxious people were to be on good terms with him. In himself he was +conscious of no change. So far, at any rate, money had not spoiled him. +Every Sunday as he passed through the little graveyard at Veryan he was +reminded of the fact that his mother had died in the workhouse. If he +was ever tempted to put on airs--which he was not--that fact would have +kept him humble. + +The true secret of his influence, however, was not that he was +prosperous, but that he was just. There was not a toiler in Great St. +Goram Mine who did not know that. In the past strength had been the +synonym for tyranny. Those who possessed a giant's strength had used it +like a giant. But Ralph had changed the tradition. The strong man was a +just man and a generous, and it was for that reason his influence had +grown with every passing day. + +Yet he was quite unconscious of the measure of his influence. In his own +eyes he was only David Penlogan's son, though that fact meant a great +deal to him. David Penlogan was an honest man--a man who, in a very real +sense, walked with God--and it was Ralph's supreme desire to prove +worthy of his father. + +But it was of none of these things he thought as he walked slowly along +between high banks of trees. The road was grass-grown from end to end, +and was so constructed that the pedestrian appeared to be constantly +turning corners. + +"I think she will walk out to-day," he kept saying to himself. "This +beautiful weather will surely tempt her out." + +He had made up his mind what to do and say in case they did meet. For +good or ill, he was determined to know his fate. It might be an act of +presumption, or a simple act of folly--that was an aspect of the +question that scarcely occurred to him. + +The supreme factor in the case, as far as he was concerned, was, he +loved her. On that point there was no room for doubt. The mere social +aspect of the question he was constitutionally incapable of seeing. A +man was a man, and if he were of good character, and able to maintain +the woman he loved, what mattered anything else? + +He came face to face with Dorothy at a bend in the road. She was walking +slowly, with her eyes on the ground. She did not hear his footsteps on +the grass-grown road, and when she looked up he was close upon her. +There was no time to debate the situation even with herself, so she +followed the impulse of her heart and held out her hand to him. + +"I thought I should meet you to-day," he said. "I am sorry you have been +ill." + +"I was rather run down when I came," she answered, glancing at him with +a questioning look, "and I think I caught cold on the journey." + +"But you are better now?" + +"Oh yes, I am quite well again." + +"I feared you had returned to London. I have been on the look-out for +you for weeks." + +She looked shyly up into his face, but did not reply. + +"I wanted to know my fate," he went on. "You know that I love you. You +must have guessed it long before I told you." + +"But--but----" she began, with averted eyes. + +"Please hear me out first," he interrupted. "I would not have spoken +again had not circumstances changed. When I saw you in London I was poor +and without hope. I believed that I should have to leave the country in +order to earn a living. To have offered marriage to anyone would have +been an insult. And yet if I had never seen you again I should have +loved you to the end." + +"But have you considered----" she began again, with eyes still turned +from his face. + +"I have considered everything," he interrupted eagerly, almost +passionately. "But there is only one thing that matters, and that is +love. If you do not love me--cannot love me--my dream is at an end, and +I will endure as best I am able. But if your heart responds to my +appeal, then the thing is settled. You are mine." + +"But you are forgetting my--my--position," she stammered. + +"I am forgetting nothing of importance," he went on resolutely. "There +are only two people in the world really concerned in this matter, you +and I, and the decision rests with you. It is not my fault that I love +you. I cannot help it. You did not mean to steal my heart, perhaps, but +you did it. It seems a curious irony of fate, for I detested your +father; but Providence threw me across your path. In strange and +inexplicable ways your life has become linked with mine. You are all the +world to me. Cannot you give me some hope?" + +"But my father still----" she began. + +"You are of age," he interrupted. "No, no! Questions of parentage or +birth or position do not count. Why should they? Let us get back to the +one thing that matters. If you cannot love me, say the word, and I will +go my way and never molest you again. But if you do love me, be it ever +so little, you must give me hope." + +"My father would never consent," she said quickly. + +"That is nothing," he answered, almost impatiently. "I will wait till he +does give his consent. Oh, Dorothy, the only thing I want to know is do +you love me? If you can give me that assurance, nothing else in the +world matters. Just say the little word. God surely meant us for each +other, or I could not love you as I do." + +She dropped her eyes to the ground and remained motionless. + +He came a step nearer and took her hand in his. She did not resist, nor +did she raise her eyes, but he felt that she was trembling from head to +foot. + +"You are not angry with me?" he questioned, almost in a whisper. + +"No, no; I am not angry," she said, almost with a sob. "How could I be? +You are a good man, and such love as yours humbles me." + +"Then you care for me just a little?" he said eagerly. + +"I cannot tell how much I care," she answered, and the tears came into +her eyes and filled them to the brim. "But what does it matter? It must +all end here and now." + +"Why end, Dorothy?" + +"Because my father would die before he gave me to you. You do not know +him. You do not know how proud he is. Name and lineage are nothing to +you, but they are everything to him." + +"But he would have married you to Lord Probus, a--a bloated brewer!" He +spoke angrily and scornfully. + +"But he had been made a peer." + +"What does that matter if Nature made him a clown?" + +"Which Nature had not done. No, no; give him his due. He was +commonplace, and not very well educated----" + +"And do these empty social distinctions count with you?" he questioned. + +"I sometimes hate them," she answered. "But what can I do? There is no +escape. The laws of society are as inflexible as the laws of the Medes +and Persians." + +"And you will fling love away as an offering to the prejudices of your +father?" + +"Why do you tempt me? You must surely see how hard it is!" + +"Then you do love me!" he cried; and he caught her in his arms and +kissed her. + +For a moment she struggled as if to free herself. Then her head dropped +upon his shoulder. + +"Oh, Ralph," she whispered, "let me love you for one brief minute; then +we must say farewell for ever!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE TABLES TURNED + + +Three days later Ralph paused for a moment in front of a trim +boarding-house or pension on the outskirts of Boulogne. It was here Sir +John Hamblyn was "vegetating," as he told his friends--practising the +strictest economy, and making a desperate and praiseworthy effort to +recover somewhat his lost financial position. + +Ralph told no one what he intended to do. Ruth supposed that he had gone +no farther than London, and that it was business connected with Great +St. Goram Mine that called him there. Dorothy, having for a moment +capitulated, had been making a brave but futile effort to forget, and +trying to persuade herself that she had done a weak and foolish thing in +admitting to Ralph Penlogan that she cared for him. + +Love and logic, however, were never meant to harmonise, and heart and +head are often in hopeless antagonism. Dorothy pretended to herself that +she was sorry, and yet all the time deep down in her heart there was a +feeling of exultation. It was delightful to be loved, and it was no less +delightful to love in return. + +Almost unconsciously she found herself meditating on Ralph's many +excellences. He was so genuine, so courageous, so unspoiled by the +world. She was sure also that she liked him all the better for being a +man of the people. He owed nothing to favour or patronage. He had fought +his own way and made his own mark. He was not like Archie Temple, who +had been pushed into a situation purely through favour, and who, if +thrown upon the open market, would not earn thirty shillings a week. + +It was an honour and a distinction to be loved by a man like Ralph +Penlogan. He was one of Nature's aristocracy, clear-visioned, +brave-hearted, fearless, indomitable. His handsome face was the index of +his character. How he had developed since that day he refused to open +the gate for her! Suffering had made him strong. Trial and persecution +had called into play the best that was in him. The fearless, defiant +youth had become a strong and resolute man. How could she help loving +him when he offered her all the love of his own great heart? + +Then she would come to herself with a little gasp, and tell herself that +it was her duty to forget him, to tear his image out of her heart; that +an attachment such as hers was hopeless and quixotic; that the sooner +she mastered herself the better it would be; that her father would never +approve, and that the society in which she moved would be aghast. + +For two days she fought a fitful and unequal battle, and then she +discovered that the more she fought the more helpless she seemed to +become. She had kept in the house lest she should discover him straying +in the plantation. + +On the third day she went out again. She said to herself that she would +suffocate if she remained any longer indoors. Her heart was aching for a +sight of Ralph Penlogan's face. She told herself it was fresh air she +was pining for, and a sight of the hills and the distant sea. She +loitered through the plantation until she reached the far end. Then she +sighed and pushed open the gate. She walked as far as the stile, and +leaned against it. How long she remained there she did not know; but she +turned away at length, and strolled out across the common and down into +the high road, and so home by way of the south lodge. + +The air had been fresh and sweet, and the blue of the sea peeped between +the hills in the direction of Perranpool, and the woods and plantations +looked their best in their summer attire, and the birds sang cheerily on +every hand. But she heard nothing, and saw nothing. The footfall she had +listened for all the time failed to come, and the face she was hungering +to see kept out of sight. + +He had evidently taken her at her word. She had told him that their +parting must be for ever, that it would be worse than madness for them +to meet, and she had meant it all at the time; and yet, three days +later, she would have given all she possessed for one more glimpse of +his face. + +The following day her duties were more irksome than she had ever known +them. The dowager wanted so many letters written, and so many articles +read to her. Dorothy was impatient to get out of doors, and the more +rapidly she tried to get through her work the more mistakes she made, +with the result that it had to be done over again. + +It was getting quite late in the afternoon when at length she hurried +away through the plantation. Would he come to meet her? She need not let +him make love to her, but they might at least be friends. Love and logic +were in opposition again. + +She lingered by the stile until the sun went down behind the hill, then, +with a sigh, she turned away, and began to retrace her steps through the +plantation. + +"I ought to be thankful to him for taking me at my word," she said to +herself, with a pathetic look in her eyes. "Oh, why did he ever love me? +Why was I ever born?" + +Meanwhile Ralph Penlogan and Sir John Hamblyn had come face to face. +Ralph had refused to send up his name, hence, when he was ushered into +the squire's presence, the latter simply stared at him for several +moments in speechless rage and astonishment. + +Ralph was the first to break the silence. + +"I must apologise for this intrusion," he said quietly, "but----" + +"I should think so, indeed," interrupted Sir John scornfully. "Will you +state your business as quickly as possible?" + +"I will certainly occupy no more of your time than I can help," Ralph +replied, "though I fear you are not in the humour to consider any +proposal from me." + +"I should think not, indeed. Why should I be? Do you wish me to tell you +what I think of you?" + +"I am not anxious on that score, though I am not aware that I have given +you any reason for thinking ill of me." + +"You are not, eh? When you cheated me out of the most valuable bit of +property I possessed?" + +"Did we not pay the price you asked?" + +"But you knew there was a valuable tin lode in it." + +"What of that? The property was in the market. We did not induce you to +sell it. We heard by accident that you wanted to dispose of it. If there +had been no lode we should have made no effort to get it." + +"It was a mean, dishonest trick, all the same." + +"I do not see it. By every moral right the farm was more mine than +yours. I helped my father to reclaim it. You spent nothing on it, never +raised your finger to bring it under cultivation. Moreover, it was +common land at the start. In league with a dishonest Parliament, you +filched it from the people, and then, by the operation of an iniquitous +law, you filched it a second time from my father." + +Sir John listened to this speech with blazing eyes and clenched hands. + +"By Heaven," he said, "if I were a younger man I would kick you down +these stairs. Have you forced your way in here to insult me?" + +"On the contrary, it was my desire rather to conciliate you; but you +charged me with dishonesty at the outset." + +"Conciliate me, indeed!" And Sir John turned away with a sneer upon his +face. + +"We neither of us gain anything by losing our tempers," Ralph said, +after a pause. "Had we not better let bygones be bygones?" + +Sir John faced him again and stared. + +"It is no pleasure to me to rake up the past," Ralph went on. "Probably +we should both be happier if we could forget. I don't deny that I vowed +eternal enmity against you and yours." + +"I am glad to hear it," Sir John snorted. + +"Time, however, has taken the sting out of many things, and to-day I +love one whom I would have hated." + +"You love----?" + +"It is of no use beating about the bush," Ralph went on. "I love your +daughter, and I have come to ask your permission----" + +He did not finish the sentence, however. With blazing eyes and clenched +fist Sir John shrieked at the top of his voice-- + +"Silence! Silence! How dare you? You----" + +"No, do not use hard words," Ralph interrupted. "You may regret it +later." + +"Regret calling you--a--a----" But no suitable or sufficiently +expressive epithet would come to his lips, and he sank into a chair +almost livid with anger and excitement. + +Ralph kept himself well in hand. He had expected a scene, and so was +prepared for it. Seizing his opportunity, he spoke again. + +"Had we not better discuss the matter without feeling or passion?" he +said, in quiet, even tones. "Surely I am not making an unreasonable +request. Even you know of nothing against my character." + +"You are a vulgar upstart," Sir John hissed. "Good heavens, +you!--you!--aspiring to the hand of my daughter." + +"I am not an upstart, and I hope I am not vulgar," Ralph replied +quietly. "At any rate, I am an Englishman. You are no more than that. +The accidents of birth count for nothing." + +"Indeed!" + +"In your heart you know it is so. In what do you excel? Wherein lies +your superiority?" + +For a moment Sir John stared at him; then he said, with intense +bitterness of tone-- + +"Will you have the good manners to take yourself out of my sight?" + +"I will do so, certainly, though you have not answered my questions." + +"If I were only a younger man I would answer you in a way you would not +quickly forget." + +"Then you refuse to give your permission?" + +"Absolutely. I would rather see my child in her coffin." + +"If you loved your child you would think more of her happiness than of +your own pride. I am sorry to find you are a tyrant still." + +"Thank you. Have you any further remarks to make?" + +"No!" And he turned away and moved toward the door. Then he turned +suddenly round with his hand on the door knob. + +"By-the-bye, you may be interested to know that I have discovered a very +rich vein that runs through your estate," he said quietly, and he pulled +the door slowly open. + +Sir John was on his feet in a moment. + +"A very rich vein?" he questioned eagerly. + +"Extraordinarily rich," was the indifferent reply. "Good-afternoon." + +"Wait a moment--wait a moment!" Sir John cried excitedly. + +"Thank you, but I have no further remarks to make." And Ralph passed out +to the landing. + +Sir John rushed past him and planted himself at the head of the stairs. + +"You are not fooling me?" he questioned eagerly. "Say honestly, are you +speaking the truth?" + +"Do you wish to insult me?" Ralph asked scornfully. "Am I in the habit +of lying? Please let me pass." + +"No, no! Please forgive me. But if what you say is true, it means so +much to me. You see, I am practically in exile here." + +"So I understand. And you are likely to remain in exile, by all +accounts." + +"But if there is a rich vein of mineral that I can tap. Why, don't you +see, it will release me at once?" + +"But, as it happens, you cannot tap it, for you don't know where it is. +I am the only individual who knows anything about it." + +"Exactly, exactly! Don't go just yet. I want to hear more about it." + +"I fear I have wasted too much of your time already," Ralph said +ironically. "You asked me just now to take myself out of your sight." + +"I know I did. I know I did. But I was very much upset. Besides, this +lode is a horse of quite another colour. Now come back into my room and +tell me all about it." + +"There is really not very much to tell," Ralph answered, in a tone of +indifference. "How I discovered its existence is a mere detail. You may +be aware, perhaps, that I occupy most of my time in making experiments?" + +"Yes, yes. I know you are wonderfully clever in your own particular +line. But tell me, whereabouts is it?" + +"You flatter me too much," Ralph said, with a laugh. "To tell you the +truth, it was largely by accident that I discovered the lode I am +speaking of. Unfortunately, it is outside the Great St. Goram boundary, +so that it is of no use to our shareholders." + +The squire laughed and rubbed his hands. + +"But it will be of use to me," he said. "Really, this is a remarkable +bit of luck. You are quite sure that it is a very valuable discovery?" + +"As sure as one can be of anything in this world. The Hillside lode is +rich, but this----" + +"No, no," Sir John interrupted eagerly. "You don't mean to say that it +is richer than your mine?" + +"I shall be greatly surprised if--if----" Then he paused suddenly. + +"Go on, go on," cried Sir John excitedly. "This bit of news is like new +life to me. Think of it. I shall be able to shake off those Jewish +sharks and hold up my head once more." + +"I don't think it is at all necessary that you should hold your head any +higher," Ralph replied deliberately and meaningly. "You think far too +much of yourself already. Now I will say good-afternoon for the second +time." + +"You mean that you will tell me nothing more?" + +"Why should I? If your justice had been equal to your greed, I might +have been disposed to help you; but I feel no such disposition at +present." + +"You want to bargain with me?" Sir John cried angrily. + +"Indeed, no. What I came about is too sacred a matter for bargaining." +And, slipping quickly past Sir John, he hurried down the stairs and into +the street. + +The squire stared after him for several minutes, then went back into the +room and fetched his hat, and was soon following. + +When he got into the open air, however, Ralph was nowhere visible. He +ran a few steps, first in one direction, then in another. Finally, he +made his way down into the town. He did not go to the wharf, for no boat +was sailing for several hours; but he loitered in the principal streets +till he was hungry, and then reluctantly made his way toward his +temporary home. He was in a state of almost feverish excitement, and +hardly knew at times whether he was awake or dreaming. + +What his exile in France meant to him, no one knew but himself. But his +financial affairs were in such a tangle, that it was exile or disgrace, +and his pride turned the scale in favour of exile. Now, suddenly, there +had been opened up before him the prospect of release--but release upon +terms. + +He tried, over his lonely dinner, to review the situation; tried to put +himself in the place of Ralph Penlogan. It was a profitable exercise. +The lack of imagination is often the parent of wrong. He was bound to +admit to himself that Ralph was under no obligation--moral or +otherwise--to reveal his secret, or even to sell his knowledge. + +"No doubt I have behaved badly to him," Sir John said to himself, "and +badly to his father. He has good reason for hating me and thwarting me. +By Jove! but we have changed places. He is the strong man now, and if he +pays me back in my own coin, it is no more than I deserve." + +Sir John did not make a good dinner that evening. His reflections +interfered with his appetite. + +"Should I tell if I were in his place?" he said to himself. And he +answered his own question with a groan. + +Under the influence of a cigar and a cup of black coffee, visions of +prosperity floated before him. He saw himself back again in Hamblyn +Manor, and in more than his old splendour. He saw himself free from the +clutches of the money-lenders, and a better man for the experiences +through which he had passed. + +But his visions were constantly broken in upon by the reflection that +his future lay in the hands of Ralph Penlogan, the young man he had so +cruelly wronged. It was a hard battle he had to fight, for his pride +seemed to pull him in opposite directions at the same time. + +Half an hour before the boat started for Folkestone he was on the wharf, +eagerly scanning the faces of all the passengers. He had made up his +mind to try to persuade Ralph to go back with him and stay the night. +His pride was rapidly breaking down under the pressure of unusual +circumstances. + +He remained till the boat cast off her moorings and the paddle-wheels +began to churn the water in the narrow slip, then he turned away with a +sigh. Ralph was not among the passengers. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +COALS OF FIRE + + +Ralph returned home by way of Calais and Dover, and on the following day +he came face to face with Dorothy outside the lodge gates. He raised his +hat and would have passed on, but she would not let him. + +"Surely we may be friends?" she said, extending her hand to him, and her +eyes were pleading and pathetic. + +He stopped at once and smiled gravely. + +"I thought it was your wish that we should meet as strangers," he said. + +"Did I say that?" she questioned, and she turned away her eyes from him. + +"Something to that effect," he answered, still smiling, though he felt +as if every reason for smiles had passed from him. + +"I have been expecting to see you for days past," she said, suddenly +raising her eyes to his. + +"I have been from home," he answered. "In fact, I have been to +Boulogne." + +"To Boulogne?" she asked, with a start, and the blood mounted in a +torrent to her neck and face. + +"I went across to see your father," he said slowly. + +"Yes?" she questioned, and her face was set and tense. + +"He was obdurate. He said he would rather see you in your coffin." + +For a moment there was silence. Then she said-- + +"Was he very angry?" + +"I am sorry to say he was. He evidently dislikes me very much--a feeling +which I fear is mutual." + +"I wonder you had the courage to ask him," she said at length. + +"I would dare anything for your sake," he replied, with averted eyes. "I +would defy him if you were willing. And, indeed, I cannot see why he +should be the arbiter of your fate and mine." + +"You must not forget that he is my father," she said quietly and +deliberately. + +"But you defied him in the case of Lord Probus." + +"That was different. To have married Lord Probus would have been a sin. +No, no. The cases are not parallel." + +"Then you are still of the same mind?" he questioned. + +"It would not be right," she said, after a long pause, "knowing father +as I do, and knowing how keenly he feels all this." + +"Then it is right to spoil my life, to fling all its future in shadow?" + +"You will forget me," she said, with averted eyes. + +"Perhaps so," he answered a little bitterly; "time is a great healer, +they say," and he raised his hat again and turned away. + +But her hand was laid on his arm in a moment. + +"Now you are angry with me," she said, her eyes filling. "But don't you +see it is as hard for me as for you? Oh, it is harder, for you are so +much stronger than I." + +"If we are to forget each other," he replied quietly and without looking +at her, "we had better begin at once." + +"But surely we may be friends?" she questioned. + +"It is not a question of friendship," he answered, "but of forgetting, +or of trying to forget." + +"But I don't want to forget," she said impulsively. "I could not if I +tried. A woman never forgets. I want to remember you, to think of your +courage, your--your----" + +"Folly," he interrupted. + +She looked at him with a startled expression in her eyes. + +"Is it folly to love?" she questioned. + +"Yes, out of your own station. If I had loved anyone else but you----" + +"No, no! Don't say that," she interrupted. "God knows best. We are +strengthened and made better by the painful discipline of life." + +He took her outstretched hand and held it for a moment, then raised it +to his lips. So they parted. He could not feel angry or resentful. She +was so sweet, so gentle, so womanly, that she compelled his reverence. +It was better to have loved her and lost, than to have won any other +woman on earth. + +On the following afternoon, on reaching home, Ruth met him at the door +with a puzzled expression in her eyes. + +"Who do you think is in the parlour?" she questioned, with a touch of +excitement in her voice. + +"William Menire," he ventured, with a laugh. + +"Then you are mistaken. William has gone to St. Hilary. But what do you +say to the squire?" + +"Sir John Hamblyn?" + +She nodded. + +"He's been waiting the best part of an hour." + +For a moment he hesitated, then he strode past her into the house. + +Sir John rose and bowed stiffly. Ralph closed the door behind him and +waited for the squire to speak. + +"I went down to the boat, hoping to catch you before you left Boulogne," +Sir John began. + +"I returned by way of Calais," was the quick reply. + +"Ah, that explains. I was curious to have a little further talk with +you. What you said about the lode excited me a great deal." + +"I have little doubt of it." + +"I own I have no claim upon you," Sir John went on, without heeding the +interruption. "Still, keeping the knowledge to yourself can do you no +good." + +"That is quite true." + +"While to me it would be everything." + +"It might be a bad thing. In the past, excuse me for saying it, you have +used your wealth and your influence neither wisely nor well. In fact, +you have prostituted both to selfish and unworthy ends." + +"I have been foolish, I own, and I have had to pay dearly for it. You +think I pressed your father hard, but I was hard pressed myself. If I +hadn't allowed myself to drift into the hands of those villainous Jews I +should have been a better man." + +"But are you not in their hands still?" + +"Well, yes, up to a certain point I am. At present they are practically +running the estates." + +"And when will you be free?" + +"Well, I hardly know. You see they keep piling up interest in such a way +that it is difficult to discover where I am. But a rich lode would +enable me to clear off everything." + +"I am not sure of that. If during your lifetime they have got a hold on +the estates, how do you know they would not appropriate the lode with +the rest?" + +Sir John looked blank, and for several moments was silent. + +"Do you know," he said at length, "that I have already paid three times +more in interest than the total amount I borrowed?" + +"I can quite believe that," was the answer. "Would you mind telling me +the amount you did borrow?" + +Sir John named the sum. + +Ralph regarded him in silence for several moments. + +"It is a large sum," he said at length, "a very large sum. And yet, if I +am not greatly mistaken, it is but a trifle in comparison with the value +of the lode I have referred to." + +"You do not mean that?" the squire said eagerly. + +"But it would be folly to make its existence known until you have got +out of the hands of those money-lenders," Ralph went on. + +"They would grab it all, you think?" + +"I fear so. If all one hears about their cunning is true, there is +scarcely any hope for a man who once gets into their clutches. The law +seems powerless. You had better have made yourself a bankrupt right +off." + +"I don't know; the disgrace is so great." + +Ralph curled his lip scornfully. + +"It seems to me you strain at a gnat and swallow a camel," he said. + +"I have been hard pressed," the squire answered dolefully. + +For several seconds neither of them spoke again. Ralph was evidently +fighting a hard battle with himself. It is not easy to be magnanimous +when it is more than probable your magnanimity will be abused. Why +should he be kind to this man? He had received nothing but cruelty at +his hands. Should he turn his cheek to the smiter? Should he restrain +himself when he had the chance of paying off old scores? Was it not +human, after all, to say an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth? Was +not revenge sweet? + +They were facing each other in the very house from which he and his +mother and Ruth had been evicted, the house in which his father had died +of a broken heart. Did not every stone in it cry out for vengeance? This +man had shown them no mercy. In the hour of their greatest need he had +been more cruel than any fabled Shylock. He had insisted upon his pound +of flesh, though it meant beggary to them all. He had pursued them with +a vindictiveness that was almost without a parallel. And now that the +tables had been turned, and the tyrant, bereft of his power, was +pleading for mercy, was he to kiss the hand that before had struck him? + +Moreover, what guarantee was there that if this man were restored to his +old position he would be any better than he was before? Was not his +heart what it had always been? Was he not a tyrant by nature? + +Sir John watched the look of perplexity gather and deepen on Ralph's +face, and guessed the struggle that was going on within him. He felt +very humble, and more penitent than Ralph knew. + +The younger man lifted his head at length, and his brow cleared. + +"I have been strongly tempted," he said slowly, "to mete out to you what +you have measured to us." + +"I have no claim to be considered," Sir John said humbly. + +"You have thwarted me, or tried to thwart me, at every stage of my +life," Ralph went on. + +"I know I have been no friend to you," was the feeble reply. + +"And if I help you back to power, I have no guarantee that you will not +use that power to thwart me again." + +The squire let his eyes fall to the ground, but did not reply. + +"However, to play the part of the dog in the manger," Ralph went on, "is +not a very manly thing to do, so I have decided to tell you all I know." + +"You will reveal the lode to me?" he questioned eagerly. + +"Yes. It will be good for the neighbourhood and the county in any case." + +The squire sat down suddenly, and furtively wiped his eyes. + +"But the money-lenders will have to be squared first. Will you allow me +to tackle them for you? I should enjoy the bull-baiting." + +"You mean----" + +"I mean that in any case they must not be allowed to get the lode into +their hands." + +"I don't know how it is to be avoided." + +"Will you leave the matter to me and William Menire?" + +"You mean you will help me?" + +"We shall be helping the neighbourhood." + +Sir John struggled hard to keep the tears back, but failed. + +"And you impose no condition?" he sobbed at length. + +"No, I impose no condition. If the thing is to be done, let it be done +freely." + +"You unman me altogether," the squire said, with brimming eyes. "I did +not expect, I really didn't. I have no claim, and I've been beastly hard +on you. I know I have, and I'm sorry, real sorry, mind you; and +if--if----" + +"We'll let the 'ifs' go for the present, if you don't mind," Ralph said, +with a dry laugh. "There are a good many present difficulties to be met. +I should like to see your agreement with the money-lenders." + +"You shall see everything. If you can only get me out of this hole you +will make me the most thankful man alive!" + +Ralph smiled dubiously. + +"When can I see the papers?" he asked. + +"To-day if you like. They are at the Manor." + +"Very good. I will walk across after tea, or will you fetch them here?" + +"If it would not be troubling you to walk so far----" + +"I will come with pleasure." + +The squire felt very chastened and humble as he made his way slowly back +to the Manor, through Treliskey Plantation. Magnanimity is rarely lost +on anyone, kindness will melt the hardest heart. The squire's pride was +being slowly undermined, his arrogance seemed almost a contemptible +thing. + +By contrast with Ralph's nobler character he began to see how mean and +poor was his own. He had prided himself so much on his name and +pedigree, and yet he was only beginning to see how unworthy he had +proved of both. What, after all, was the mere accident of birth in +comparison with moral greatness? Measured by any right standard, Ralph +Penlogan was an infinitely better man than he. He had not only +intellect, but heart. He possessed that true nobility which enabled a +man to forgive his enemy. He was turning in a very literal sense his +cheek to the smiter. + +Sir John entered the house with a curious feeling of diffidence. His +home, and yet not his. The dowager made him welcome, and placed the +library and a bedroom above at his disposal for as long as he might care +to stay. + +Dorothy was delighted to have her father with her again, and yet she was +strangely puzzled as to the object of his visit. She was puzzled still +more when a little later Ralph Penlogan was shown into the room where +she and her father sat. + +She rose to her feet in a moment, while a hot blush swept over her neck +and face. For a second or two she stood irresolute, and glanced hastily +from one to the other. What was the meaning of it all? Her father, +instead of glaring angrily at his visitor, received him with the +greatest cordiality and even deference, while Ralph advanced with no +sign of fear or hesitation. + +Neither of them appeared for the moment to be conscious of her presence. +Ralph did not even look towards her. + +Then her father said in a low voice-- + +"You can leave us for a little while, Dorothy." + +She hurried out of the room with flaming cheeks and fast-beating heart. +What could her father want with Ralph Penlogan? What was the mystery +underlying his hurried visit? Could it have any reference to herself? +Had her father relented? Had he at last come to see that character was +more than social position--that a man was great not by virtue of birth, +but by virtue of achievement? + +For the best part of an hour she sat in her own room waiting and +listening. Then the dowager summoned her to read an article to her out +of the _Spectator_. + +It grew dark at last, and Dorothy sought her own room once more, but she +was so restless she could not sit still. The very air seemed heavy with +fate. Her father and Ralph were still closeted in the library. What +could they have to say to each other that kept them so long? + +When the lamps were lighted she stole out of her room and waited for a +few moments on the landing. Then she ran lightly down the stairs into +the hall. The library door was still closed, but a moment later it was +pulled slightly open. She drew back into a recess and pulled a curtain +in front of her, though why she did so she hardly knew. + +She could hear distinctly a murmur of voices, then came a merry peal of +laughter. She had not heard her father laugh so merrily for years. + +Then the two men walked out into the hall side by side, and began to +converse in subdued tones. She could see them very distinctly. How +handsome Ralph looked in the light of the lamp. + +The squire went with his visitor to the front door, and opened it. She +caught Ralph's parting words, "I will see to the matter without delay. +Good-night!" + +When the squire returned from the door he saw Dorothy standing under the +lamp with a look of inquiry in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +SIR JOHN ATONES + + +Dorothy did not see Ralph again for nearly a month, and the hope that +had animated her for a brief period threatened to go out in darkness. +Her father, much to her surprise, remained at the Manor, he and the +dowager having come to terms that appeared to be mutually satisfactory. +But for what purpose he had returned to St. Goram, and why he remained, +she did not know, and more puzzling still was why he had held that long +and friendly interview with Ralph Penlogan. + +More than once she had tried to get at the truth. But her father was +completely on his guard against every chance question. He had never been +in the habit of taking Dorothy into his confidence in business matters. +He was of opinion that the less girls knew about matters outside the +domestic realm the better. Moreover, until he was safely out of the +clutches of the money-lenders, it would not be safe to take anyone into +his confidence. So to Dorothy, at any rate, he remained a mystery from +day to day, and the longer he remained, the deeper the mystery seemed to +grow. + +There was, however, one compensation. He was more cheerful and more +affectionate than he had ever been since her refusal to marry Lord +Probus. What that might mean she was unable to guess. There appeared to +be no particular reason for his cheerfulness. For the moment he was +living on charity, for of course he could not dream of paying the +dowager for his board and lodgings. He did not appear to be engaged on +any gambling adventure or business enterprise. No one came to see him. +He went nowhere, except for an occasional long walk after dark, and he +scarcely ever received a letter. + +One evening he was absent several hours, and did not return till after +midnight. Dorothy waited up for him, and had begun to be greatly +concerned at his non-arrival. She was standing at the open door +listening when she caught the sound of his footsteps, and she ran a +little way down the drive to meet him. + +"Oh, father, wherever have you been?" she cried out anxiously. + +"Why, little girl, why are you not in bed?" he answered, with a laugh. + +"Because I waited up for you, and I expected you an hour ago. I have +been terribly anxious." + +"Nobody is likely to run away with me," he said, bending over and +kissing her. + +"But it is so late for you to be out alone. If there was anyone you have +been in the habit of visiting, I should not have worried, but I feared +you had been taken ill, or had met with an accident." + +"I did not know you cared for your old father so much," he said, with a +note of tenderness in his voice that was new to her. + +"But I do care," she answered impulsively, "and care lots and lots more +than I can tell you." + +He kissed her again, and then taking her arm, he led her into the house. +Bolting the front door, he followed her into the library. + +She was standing against the fireplace when he entered, and she noticed +that his eyes were unusually bright. + +"I have been to Hillside Farm," he said, and a broad smile spread itself +over his face. + +"To Hillside Farm?" she questioned. + +"Young Penlogan has had some business affairs of mine in hand, and +to-night we have settled it." + +She stared at him with a look of wonder in her eyes, but did not reply. + +"It's been a ticklish task, and, of course, I have said nothing about +it. But I've been in high hopes ever since I came back. Penlogan is +really a remarkable fellow." + +"Yes?" she questioned, wondering more than ever. + +"It's a curious turn of the tables," he went on; "but he's behaved +splendidly, and there's no denying it. He might have heaped coals of +fire on my head at every point. He might--but--well, after one straight +talk--not another word. He's behaved like a gentleman--perhaps I ought +to say like a Christian. No conditions! Not a condition. No. Having made +up his mind to do the straight thing, he's carried it through. It's been +coals of fire, all the same. I've never felt so humbled in my life +before. I could wish--but there, it's too late to wish now. He's spared +me all he could. I'm bound to say that for him, and he's carried it +through----" + +"Carried what through, father?" + +He started, and smiled, for his thoughts had evidently gone wandering to +some distant place. + +"I'm afraid it's too long a story to tell you to-night." + +"No, no, father. I'm quite wide awake. And, indeed, I shall not sleep +for the night, unless you tell me." + +"I'm wide awake myself," he said, with a laugh. "By Jove! I feel as if I +could dance. You can't imagine what a relief it is to me. Life will be +worth living again." + +"But what is it all about, father?" + +"Oh, that clever dog, Penlogan, discovered a rich vein of ore in my +ground, and he's given me all the benefit of the discovery. I've been +hard up for a long time, as you know; been in the hands of sharks, in +fact. I feel ashamed to tell you this, though I expect you have guessed. +Well, thanks to Penlogan, I've shaken them off, got quite free of them. +Now I'm free to go ahead." + +"And has Ralph Penlogan done all this for nothing?" + +"Absolutely. He wanted you when he came to see me at Boulogne, but I +told him I'd see you buried first. Good heavens! I could have wrung his +neck." + +She smiled pathetically, but made no answer. + +"He's a greater man than I knew," Sir John went on, after a pause. "He +was strongly tempted to be even with me--he told me so--but the finer +side of him conquered. Good heavens! if only Geoffrey were such a man, +how proud I should be." + +"Geoffrey has been trained in a different school." + +"There may be something in that. Some natures expand under hard knocks, +are toughened by battle and strife, greatened by suffering, and +sweetened by sorrow." + +She looked up into his face with a wondering smile. + +"Ah, my Dorothy," he said, with a world of tenderness in his tones, "I +have learned a great deal during the last few weeks. In the past I've +been a fool, and worse. I've measured people by their social position. +I've set value on filigree and embroidery. I've been proud of pedigree +and name, and I've tried to put my heel upon people who were my +superiors in every way. Good heavens! what vain fools we are in the +main. We value the pinchbeck setting and kick the diamond into the +gutter." + +"Then you have finished with Mr. Penlogan now?" she questioned, after a +long pause. + +"Finished with him? Why so? I hope not, anyhow." + +"But you have got all you want out of him." + +"I never said so. No, no. We shall have to form a company to work the +new lode, and he will be invaluable." + +"And he will get nothing?" + +"I don't know that he wants anything. He has plenty as it is." + +She made no reply, and for a moment or two they looked at each other in +silence. Then Sir John said, with a chuckle-- + +"A penny for your thoughts, Dorothy!" + +"A penny for yours, father." + +"Do you really care very much for the fellow?" + +"For the fellow?" + +"I mean for Penlogan, of course. Mind you, I'm not surprised if you do. +He's the kind of fellow any girl might fall in love with, and, to be +quite candid, I shouldn't object to him for a son-in-law." + +"Oh, father!" and she ran to him and threw her arms about his neck. + +"Then you do care for him, little girl?" + +But the only answer he got was a hug and a kiss. + +"Oh, very good," he went on. "I'll let him know to-morrow morning that +he may come along here and see you if he likes. I don't expect he will +lose very much time. What! crying, little girl? Come, come, you mustn't +cry. Crying spoils the eyes. Besides, it is time we were both in bed." + +She kissed him more than once, and then ran hurriedly out of the room. + +On the following afternoon she went for a walk through the plantation +alone. + +"He will come this way," she said to herself. "He will be sure to come +this way. He knows it is my favourite walk." + +She walked slowly, but with every sense alert. She knew that her father +had been to see Ralph, and, of course, he would be impatient to see her. +If he were half as impatient as she was he would be on his way now. + +She espied him at length a long way down the road, and she drew back a +little in the shadow of the trees and waited. Her heart was beating very +fast, and happy tears kept welling up into her eyes. + +She was looking away from him when at length he came upon her. + +"Dorothy!" he said, in a voice that thrilled her like a strain of music. + +"Yes, Ralph," and she turned her perfect face full upon him. + +"Your father said I might come." + +"Yes, I know," and she placed both her hands in his. + +"I have waited long for this day," he said. + +"We are the happier for the waiting." + +"You are satisfied?" + +"I am very happy, Ralph." + +He gathered her to himself slowly and tenderly, and kissed her. There +was no need for many words just then. Silence was more eloquent than +speech. + +That evening the dowager came to the conclusion that she would have to +look out for a new companion and secretary. + + + + +Mr. Silas K. Hocking's + +THE FLAMING SWORD. + + _SOME PRESS OPINIONS_ + + "This is told in Mr. Hocking's usual bright and sprightly + manner. When over a million copies of a man's books have been + sold, all his readers want to know is if the book under review + presents the characteristics of the author, and is worthy of + his reputation; both of which questions can be answered in the + affirmative."--_Queen._ + + "The novel is remarkable, because of its intensely human + interest, of the intricacy of the plot, and of the freshness + and vigour with which it is developed. The tale is wound up in + the happiest possible manner. Mr. Hocking has produced a + finished piece of literary workmanship--a novel that will be + widely read and enjoyed."--_Scotsman._ + + "In 'The Flaming Sword' he is at his best, and the book will + gratify his multitudinous admirers."--_Sheffield Daily + Telegraph._ + + "An admirable story--supremely interesting. The whole story is + brimful of surprises and complications, woven together with + great ingenuity. The plot is wonderfully good, and grips the + reader from start to finish."--_Aberdeen Free Press._ + + "It will be strange indeed if 'The Flaming Sword' does not + become one of the most popular products of Mr. Silas Hocking's + pen."--_Christian Commonwealth._ + + "It immediately lays hold of one, and the grip is maintained + throughout."--_Dundee Advertiser._ + + "An exciting and intensely interesting story."--_Canadian + Bookseller._ + + "A novel which is sure to have multitudes of readers and to be + enthusiastically received."--_Free Methodist._ + + "A volume that will keep up the reputation of the author, since + it is written in his best vein."--_Irish Times._ + + "Mr. S. K. Hocking has a big circle of admirers, which is + likely to be considerably widened by his latest novel, 'The + Flaming Sword.' The story grips one from the + opening."--_Lloyd's News._ + + +PIONEERS. + + _SOME PRESS OPINIONS_ + + "Mr. Hocking has written many admirable stories, but none, one + may venture to say, so effective as this. He has presented his + characters with convincing fidelity to human nature.... The + reader will follow their careers with interest, and in especial + that of the heroine, who is a pronounced and most attractive + individuality. In a word, the novel is a notable + success."--_Scotsman._ + + "Mr. Hocking has seldom drawn two more notable and more lovable + characters. The novel teems with stirring adventure and has the + prettiest love story, with the happiest of endings."--_Evening + News._ + + "Is a story of sustained power--power controlled by a practised + hand which quickly grips the interest of the reader and holds + it undiminished to the end."--_Birmingham Post._ + + "Conceived and executed in the author's most vigorous style, we + are carried breathlessly forward from the first page to the + last; almost every chapter contains some hair-breadth 'scape. + It is all very exciting and picturesque."--_Westminster + Gazette._ + + "It is a skilful and well-knit story, full of exciting + episodes. It arouses human sympathy, and sustains a good level + of interest. It is probably one of the best of Mr. Silas + Hocking's recent books."--_Sheffield Independent._ + + "Mr. Hocking's latest novel is intensely interesting and + exciting. The scene is laid in Russia, and the plot embraces + the struggles and adventures of two soldiers who have deserted + from the Russian army. They are arrested and taken to Siberia, + and their privations and struggles for freedom are depicted + with a master hand. The character of the heroine is one which + will draw the sympathy of all, and the story one which should + appeal to a large circle of readers."--_Canadian Bookseller._ + + "There is a vivid realism in the story. The exciting adventures + of the heroine, etc., form a chapter of incidents which keep + the reader chained to the book till the last page is turned. + The story is one of the best, if not the best that Mr. Hocking + has written."--_Daily News._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Squire's Daughter, by Silas K(itto) Hocking + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER *** + +***** This file should be named 36384.txt or 36384.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/3/8/36384/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://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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